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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..ccda67b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60398 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60398) diff --git a/old/60398-0.txt b/old/60398-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c5f1a98..0000000 --- a/old/60398-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9444 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Westover of Wanalah, by George Cary Eggleston - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Westover of Wanalah - A story of love and life in Old Virginia - -Author: George Cary Eggleston - -Illustrator: Emil Pollak Ottendorff - -Release Date: September 30, 2019 [EBook #60398] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WESTOVER OF WANALAH *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines & the online Distributed Proofreaders -Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - - - - - - - - - - - WESTOVER OF - WANALAH - - - - GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON - - - - - WESTOVER OF WANALAH - - _A Story of Love and Life in Old Virginia_ - - -[Illustration: Her rescuer knew not whether she lived.--_Page 8._] - - - - - - WESTOVER OF - WANALAH - - A STORY OF LOVE AND LIFE IN - OLD VIRGINIA - - BY - - GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON - - _ILLUSTRATED BY EMIL POLLAK OTTENDORFF_ - - - - BOSTON - LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. - - - - - - Published, August, 1910 - - Copyright, 1910, - By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. - - _All rights reserved_ - - WESTOVER OF WANALAH - - Norwood Press - Berwick & Smith Co. - Norwood, Mass., U. S. A. - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. Peril and Passion 1 - II. A Song without Words 14 - III. The Best Laid Plans 31 - IV. A Woman's Word 27 - V. Pleasant Dreams and an Ugly Awakening 40 - VI. Out of a Clear Sky 50 - VII. In the Valley of the Shadow 63 - VIII. The Shadows Fall 72 - IX. The Courage of Womanhood 83 - X. The Packet of Papers 88 - XI. The Events of a Morning 99 - XII. After the Storm 117 - XIII. "Aunt Betsy" Takes the Helm 130 - XIV. Westover at Wanalah 138 - XV. Up at Judy's 152 - XVI. Judy Peters's Diagnosis 161 - XVII. Judy Informs Herself and Makes Plans 171 - XVIII. Judy Plans a Campaign 184 - XIX. The Beginning of a Campaign 199 - XX. The Satisfaction of W. W. Webb 212 - XXI. Flags Flying 227 - XXII. An Unmistakable Cure 239 - XXIII. Court Day 254 - XXIV. A Perfect Woman--and a Man 266 - XXV. The Great Renunciation 279 - XXVI. Moonlight Resolutions 308 - XXVII. The Philosophy of Jack Towns 316 - XXVIII. The Events of a Day 330 - XXIX. The Work of a Wild Wind 341 - XXX. What Had Happened at The Oaks 359 - XXXI. A Sunset Interview 372 - XXXII. What Happened at Fighting Creek 388 - XXXIII. Conspiracies 396 - XXXIV. Judy's Plans of Campaign 413 - XXXV. A Mountain Top Revelation 425 - XXXVI. The Meeting at The Oaks 433 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - -Her rescuer knew not whether she lived (Page 8) _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - -"Now come out here, Boyd" 162 - -With the first onset of the wind 342 - -"It will be better, I think, to accept my decision as final" 366 - -He dismounted, and, with his bridle rein over his arm, joined her 374 - -"Margaret!" . . . "Boyd!" 436 - - - - -Westover of Wanalah - - - - -I - -PERIL AND PASSION - - -One midsummer morning in the late eighteen-fifties, Boyd Westover of -Wanalah was riding along a Virginia plantation road, accompanied by -half a dozen hounds, for whose discipline and restraint he carried a -long, flexible black-snake whip. The weapon played the part of sceptre -rather than that of sword. The young man had no intention of striking -the dogs with it, but whenever their exuberance broke bounds he cracked -the lash in air, making a report like that of a pistol shot, and the -reminder of his authority was quite sufficient for purposes of canine -discipline. - -He was not hunting. He was merely riding to a distant part of the -plantation he controlled, to inspect the work of the negroes there and -to give directions for its proper doing. But he liked the company of -his dogs and enjoyed their mad relish of the morning. - -The glory of it gladdened his own spirit in spite of the vexing -problems that were never quite absent from his mind. - -Boyd Westover, a young man of not more than twenty-three or twenty-four -years, had never known a serious care until the spring of that year. -Then a burden of responsibility had fallen upon him that threatened to -bend even his broad shoulders beneath its weight. - -His father had died suddenly in the early spring, leaving a widow and -this one son who in the ordinary course of affairs became administrator -of the estate and master of the plantation. - -Then it was that the burden fell upon him. The plantation was an -unusually large one, and its late owner had been accounted the richest -man in all the region round about, just as his forbears for generations -past had been. Wanalah, the ancestral seat of the family, had been for -two hundred years the home of a hospitable, high living, high mettled -race of men and women, but during the reign of Boyd Westover's father -the hospitality of Wanalah had outdone itself in lavishness. There were -always guests in numbers there, and a multitude of servants were -withheld from profitable industry to minister to their comfort. There -were thoroughbred horses enough in the stables to mount half a company -of cavalry, and a like profusion was apparent in the case of every -other provision for enjoyment and the unstinted entertainment of -guests. In brief the late master of Wanalah had kept open house for all -gentlemanly comers. - -But when Boyd Westover took his degree at the University in early June -and returned to Wanalah to assume his duties as administrator, he -learned for the first time that the plantation had not been earning the -cost of all this high living. There was not only the hereditary debt -upon the place--a debt that so great a plantation, wisely conducted, -might have borne comfortably--but added to it was a confused mass of -fresh debts accumulated during his father's lifetime and in consequence -of his extravagance. - -The entertainment of pleasure-seeking guests was suspended now, of -course, during the period of mourning, and in view of the ill health -into which his mother had fallen since the shock of his father's sudden -death, the suspension seemed likely to endure for a long period to come. - -In the meantime Boyd Westover was both perplexed and appalled by the -magnitude of the problem he was set to solve. For a time he doubted -even the solvency of the estate, but later reckonings had shown him -that this fear was not justified, though the fact brought small relief -to his mind, for peculiar reasons connected with the character of the -property itself. If he might have sold out everything, he could have -paid off all the debts, leaving a small but sufficient competency for -his mother's support. As for himself, he gave no thought for the -future. He was young, strong and fit to meet fate unarmed. - -But he could not sell the property without unpardonable offence to his -own soul and to the sentiment of the community which was to him the -world. For by far the greater part of that property and altogether the -most salable part of it consisted of the negroes, every one of whom had -been born on Wanalah plantation as their parents and grandparents and -great-grandparents had been before them. Among the high class -Virginians--the class to which Boyd Westover belonged by immemorial -inheritance--it was held to be a shamefully impossible thing to sell a -negro except for incorrigible crime, or for the purpose of bringing a -man and wife together, on one plantation. - -"I simply will not sell the servants," the young man said to himself -when matters seemed at their worst. "Rather than do that, I'll run them -all off north, set them free and let the estate fall into bankruptcy." - -Since that time the young man's close study of the situation had -convinced him that neither of these courses was necessary. By cutting -down the force of house servants to the measure of his own and his -mother's modest needs, and putting every able-bodied negro at -profitable work in the crops, he was confident that he could make the -plantation carry its load of debt and slowly reduce it. - -That was now his task, and in spite of the glory of the midsummer -morning his mind was busy planning ways and means, when suddenly a -combined baying from the hounds arrested his attention. Looking up he -saw a young woman on horseback in a pasture not far ahead--a young -woman in difficulty and sore danger. - -Streamers of flaming red--the reason for which he could in no wise -guess--were flying from her shoulders and a maddened bull of huge bulk -was charging her with the fury of a bovine demon. - -Instantly the young man plunged the rowels into the flanks of his -horse. An eight-rail fence lay in his way, but there was no time in -which to throw off even one of its rails. Without a thought of pause he -urged his horse toward it at the top of his speed, determined to force -him over it or through it as the case might be. The weight of the steed -and the speed at which he was moving would be sufficient, Boyd Westover -thought, to crush a way through the barrier. It was likely to cost the -beautiful animal his life, but what of that? There was another life at -stake, in rescue of which the young man was ready to sacrifice even his -own--for the life in peril was that of the woman he loved, the woman -who had awakened all the passion, all the tenderness, all the chivalry -of his brave young soul. To save her he would have doomed any and every -other living thing to cruel death. - -The horse he rode seemed to realize the perilous choice his rider was -forcing upon him and to choose the safer but far more difficult course. -Putting forth all his superb strength in utmost endeavor, he cleared -the barrier at a flying leap. - -As he did so his rider saw to his horror that the young woman's mount -had faltered in her frightened flight, and in the next instant the -beautiful mare was lifted bodily from the ground, impaled upon the -sharp horns of the bull and evidently done to death by the goring. As -the animal fell the young woman was hurled forward half a dozen yards, -and before the wrath-blinded bull could gather himself together for a -charge upon her prostrate form, Boyd Westover forced his own horse -between the bull and his victim and with three or four rapid swishes of -the cruel black-snake whip across the animal's face and eyes, sent him -staggering back. - -The delay, as the young man knew, would be but for a few seconds, but -these proved sufficient for his purpose. Turning his horse toward the -unconscious girl, he hooked his left knee around the cantle of his -saddle and, hanging almost head downwards, seized her about the waist. -Recovering his position, he placed her across the horse's withers. The -bull was almost upon him now, but a sharp touch of the spurs caused the -horse to spring forward at a full run in time to save himself and his -riders, though the escape was so narrow that one of the bull's horns -tore an ugly gash in the calf of Boyd Westover's leg. - -The body of the girl hung limp across the withers, so that her rescuer -knew not whether she lived or had been killed by her fall. Until his -horse cleared the fence again--this time scattering the upper rails as -he did so--there was no time for inquiry. But once out of the field, -the young man reined in the frantic creature, and lifting the girl's -head to his shoulder, felt her fluttering breath upon his cheek. - -"Thank God she lives!" he exclaimed with reverent fervor, but his -efforts to rouse her to consciousness were unavailing. - -"It may be only a faint," he thought, but such fainting as he had seen -among women had been far less enduring than this, and the memory of -that fact greatly alarmed him. - -He reflected that in any case the shock produced by the dashing of -water into the face is desirable at such times, and turning his horse's -head he rode down a slope into a shaded, grass-carpeted dell, where a -bubbling spring arose. Gently laying the girl on the greensward, but -resting her head in his lap, he dashed handfuls of water into her face, -with the result of arousing her almost at once. When she opened her -eyes they were vacant and dreamy, like those of one only half awakened -from sleep, but a few moments later the light came back into them, and -she spoke. - -"Is it you, Boyd? Then you're not dead, as I dreamed you were." - -"Oh, no, I'm not hurt," he replied--ignoring his lacerated leg--"but -you mustn't talk yet. Lie still till you feel better." And with that he -gently passed his hand over her eyes, closing them. - -She lay quiet for a minute or two seemingly asleep, and he, moved by a -sudden impulse--whether of passion or pity he knew not--bent over and -pressed his lips to hers--gently uttering her name--"Margaret." - -Instantly he repented, as she opened her eyes and with a flushing face -tried to raise herself to a sitting posture, saying as she made the -effort. - -"I reckon you mustn't do that." - -But the effort to rise was futile. Sharp pain caused her to grow pale -again and she sank back as she had been. - -"Where are you hurt, Margaret?" Boyd asked in sympathetic distress. - -"I don't know; all over I reckon." - -"Are any of your bones broken? Feel of them and see." - -"I reckon not. I can't tell. The pains are all over me--mostly inside. -I reckon I'm going to faint." - -Boyd Westover was now seriously alarmed. He vaguely remembered hearing -of persons dying of "internal injuries," though externally showing no -hurt. Instantly he lifted the girl again and, mounting with her in his -arms, set off at a gallop toward the great house at Wanalah. - -The sharp prick of a pin, as he adjusted his burden on the withers, -attracted his attention to the two flaming red bandana kerchiefs, -pinned by their corners to Margaret's shoulders, and in the midst of -his apprehensions for her life he found time to wonder why she had -decorated herself in that extraordinary way. He was too full of anxious -concern to question her on so trivial a matter, but she, recovering -herself, volunteered an explanation, after asking him to reduce the -horse's gait to a walk. - -"I reckon I was right foolish," she said, laughing in spite of her -pain. "You see this is one of old Aunt Sally's birthdays. She has one -every three or four months now, and she's rapidly adding to her ninety -years--a year at each birthday. She was my Mammy you know, and so I -always take her a present on her birthdays." - -The girl paused in her speech as some sharp twinge of pain changed her -smile into a grimace. It was only for a moment, and she continued: - -"On her last birthday, two or three months ago, she told me I would -some day be an angel with red wings, and so when I set out this morning -to take her these two turban kerchiefs, the foolish whim came to me to -pin them to my shoulders and make red wings of them." - -Again an access of severe pain silenced speech and she closed her eyes -while her lips grew pale. Evidently the effort to chatter had been too -much for her, and Boyd rightly guessed that she had been forcing -herself to talk of her little prank by way of preventing him from -saying more serious things which she did not wish just then to hear. - -He in his turn resolved to say those more serious things at the -earliest opportunity. He felt that in caressing her as he had done, -down there by the spring, he had placed himself under a binding -obligation to explain at the first possible opportunity, and the -explanation could take but one form--a full and free declaration of his -yet unspoken passion. This, he felt, he had no right to delay one -moment longer than he must, but as she lay still with closed eyes, her -head upon his shoulder and his arm about her, he realized that his -present and very pressing task was to place her as soon as possible in -the tender care of his mother and her maids. - -The rest must wait. - - - - -II - -A SONG WITHOUT WORDS - - -The physician for whom Boyd Westover sent a young negro at breakneck -speed, while his mother's maids were getting Margaret Conway to bed, -reported that she had "sustained painful contusions" and was -additionally "suffering from shock," but that no bones were broken and, -so far as he could determine, no serious internal injuries had -befallen. He directed that she should remain in bed for a few days, and -then stay quietly at Wanalah, without attempting a homeward journey -until he should himself give permission. - -"Above all," he said to Boyd, "she must not be excited in any -way--pleasurably or the reverse--lest hysteria supervene." - -Boyd smiled a little over the medical man's stilted diction, and -rejoiced in the assurance of Margaret's safety which the ponderous -phraseology gave him. But upon reflection he chafed a good deal over -the restraint the doctor's instructions required him to put upon -himself. He was impatient now to put into words the declaration of love -which his caresses had implied and promised. He was still more -impatient for her reply to that declaration, for, like the modest young -lover that he was, he gravely feared his fate and was annoyed by the -necessity of waiting before putting it to the test. - -Her words, spoken half consciously when she had received or repelled -his embraces--for he could not determine in his own mind whether she -had meant to do the one or the other--in no wise encouraged his -self-confidence. He recalled those words:--"I reckon you mustn't do -that"--and questioned them closely as to their significance, but no -satisfactory answer came. The utterance might mean anything or nothing. -And what did the suddenly flushing face that accompanied it suggest? -Was it joy or sorrow, pleasure or resentment that had sent the blood to -her cheeks in that way, and prompted her attempt to escape him by -rising? Wonder as he might he could not tell, and as he paced the -colonnaded porch that night after all the house was asleep, he -succeeded only in working himself into a passionate fury of impatience -and maddening perplexity. - -He tried to reason with himself, only to find himself utterly -unreasonable. Doubtless Margaret would be enjoying the air in the porch -within a few days, resting and perhaps interestingly helpless still. -The attentions he must lavish upon her in that case promised abundant -opportunity for a tenderness of care which would open the way for his -passionate declaration. At that point in his planning another and a -very annoying thought obtruded itself. - -"Confound it!" he muttered, "Colonel Conway is a stickler for all the -conventions of our artificial social life. He will insist upon the -idiotic rule that a young man mustn't address a girl in his own house -or at any time when she is under his protection. What utter nonsense it -is, anyhow! But I suppose I must obey it or bring down Colonel Conway's -wrath upon my head. I must let all my opportunities slip away, and -restrain my impulses during all the time she's here, making myself seem -to her a cold-blooded brute who has taken advantage of her helplessness -to force caresses upon her and then doesn't think enough of her dignity -to explain himself." - -Perhaps Boyd Westover's mood was playing tricks with his logical -faculties. It is certain that if he had been asked at any ordinary time -his opinion of the social requirement which he now scorned as an -idiotic convention, he would have answered that it was eminently right -and reasonable, that it was imperatively necessary indeed, for the -protection of the young woman in the case against the embarrassment of -having to accept hospitality or escort or favor of other kind from a -man whose proffer of love she has just rejected. - -But who expects an impatient lover to be reasonable--who that has ever -been himself a lover? Reasonable or unreasonable, Boyd Westover felt -himself bound to observe the rule that imposed so annoying a restraint -upon him. He might fret and fume in revolt against it, but he must bend -to the custom. He resolved to wait with what grace he could until -Margaret's return to her own home. He worked out in his mind all the -situations that were likely to occur during her convalescence at -Wanalah, and framed all the conversations to fit the embarrassing -circumstances. - -Of course the situations that actually arose were totally different -from those he had imagined, and the dialogues he had rehearsed proved -to be as unfit for use as the text of a Greek tragedy would be on a -modern comedy stage. - -Colonel Conway, who happened to be in Richmond when his daughter's -mishap occurred, returned at once and, after learning the details, -delivered his thanks and commendations in a way that overwhelmed her -rescuer with embarrassment. It was in vain that Boyd protested, -disclaimed any right or title to the Colonel's extravagant eulogies of -his conduct, and declared that he had done no more than any other man -would have done under like circumstances. Colonel Conway would not have -it so. - -"You gravely imperilled your own life, sir," he replied in his -peremptory way. "You went to the rescue of a damsel in distress as only -a gallant knight would do, with reckless disregard of all consequences -to yourself. That's what I call heroism, sir, heroism worthy of the -name you bear and the proud race from which you are sprung. Now don't -protest, don't contradict, don't argue, don't answer. It is only your -modesty that shrinks from the recognition of your gallantry"--and so on -with what Boyd felt to be "damnable iteration." - -But when the old gentleman had gone back to Richmond, leaving his -daughter to the care of Boyd Westover's mother, the young man reflected -that the Colonel's enthusiasm would probably stand him in good stead if -ever Margaret should smile upon his suit and give him leave to ask her -father for her hand. - -Thus in meditations sometimes hopeful and joyous, sometimes perplexed -and desponding, Boyd Westover worried through the days until the glad -morning came when Margaret Conway rebelled against her physician's -orders and made her appearance in the porch. She was still weak enough -and enough distressed by her bruises to be treated as a convalescent to -whom solicitous attention was due, and of course Boyd elected himself -her "gentleman in waiting." - -These two, brought up on adjoining plantations, had known each other -from their earliest childhood, but in later years they had seen little -of each other. Boyd had been away, first at boarding-school and -afterwards at the University, while the motherless girl had been slowly -and awkwardly growing to womanhood, under care of her aunt and the -tutelage of an accomplished governess. It was only during vacations -that the two had met, and during the last two summers they had not met -at all, for the reason that Margaret, with her father, had been -travelling in the North and Canada and in what was then the great West -during both those seasons. - -It was with surprise, therefore, not unmixed with the awe of -strangeness, that on his return from the University this year he had -found his little playmate grown into a beautiful and very dignified -womanhood. She presided now at The Oaks, her father's plantation, with -all the gracious ease that enabled Virginia women of that time to make -of plantation houses delightful centres of unruffled hospitality, where -the coming and going of guests was in no way a matter of previous -arrangement and where neither the coming nor the going created the -smallest ripple in the placid self-composure of the well-ordered life -of the mansion. - -So great was the change in her, or so great did it seem to Boyd, that -at first he hesitated and faltered over the old familiar form of -address. It did not seem possible to him to call this dignified and -almost stately young woman "Margaret" as he had always called the -little girl that she had been. He could not address her as "Miss -Conway" but he thought he might compromise on the form "Miss Margaret." -The first time he addressed her in that fashion was the only time. She -looked at him in dignified surprise for a moment; then with a rippling -little laugh that seemed to him singularly charming, she said: - -"If we have become such strangers, Boyd, that you must put a handle to -my name, I'll give you all your honors and address you as 'Boyd -Westover, Esq., M. A., University of Virginia.' You are to call me just -'Margaret,' please, as you've always done, if you wish to be just -'Boyd' to me." - -As she spoke the words all the winsomeness he remembered in the girl -came back again, but it did not dissipate the stately dignity that had -grown upon her with her ripening womanhood. It was perhaps at that -moment that he fell in love with her. Of that he could never be sure, -but he knew now that his love for her was the one supreme passion of -his life. That knowledge had come to him at the moment when he first -realized her danger out there in the pasture. He recalled now the -impulse that had prompted him in his half mad determination to let no -obstacle stand in the way of his reaching her in time for rescue. He -remembered the horror that had rended his very soul as he saw the -maddened bull lift the mare and her rider and fling them from his gory -horns. He knew now that he had done and dared in those maddening -moments, not with the humane impulse to save an imperilled life that -must come to every man with blood in his veins, but actuated by his -passionate love's instinct of self-preservation. - -As he ministered to her after her return to the porch, all these -memories were awakened in him by a certain change that had come over -her, a shyness that was not quite reserve, but yet resembled it. He was -too little acquainted with the ways of women to understand this or to -estimate it aright. It did not occur to him that the revelation he had -made to her by his passionate caress as she lay half conscious in his -arms might explain her impulse of reserve. He was too scantily versed -in the impulses of womanhood to understand that after such a -manifestation of his love womanly modesty must stand upon its defence -until such time as he should see fit to give more formal and definite -expression to his purpose. - -Yet to that caress he attributed the change. It was only that he -misinterpreted its meaning. The thought came to him that he had -mortally offended her, that she resented his act in the only way -possible to her so long as she must remain a guest in his mother's -house, and that upon her release from that restraint she would banish -him forever from her presence and her acquaintance. - -So severely did all this torture him that on the second day of her -convalescence the impulse to make an end of suspense overcame him, -banishing for the moment all considerations of prudence and all regard -for conventionalities. He had read to her for an hour, and when the -book was finished, he observed a certain restlessness on her part, for -which he suggested one or two remedies, only to have his suggestions -negatived. Presently she said: - -"It is only that I need exercise, I reckon. I think I'll try to walk a -little, up and down the porch." She rose with some difficulty, he -taking her hand in assistance. But no sooner was she on her feet than -she relaxed her grasp upon his hand, and, as he did not relax his own -so readily, she seemed to shake it off. The act was not an impatient -one, but he mistook it for such. Instantly he faced her, asking: - -"Why did you do that, Margaret? Why have you tried in every way to show -me that my presence is disagreeable to you? What have I done to offend -you? Tell me, and I'll quit the plantation at once and stay away so -long as you remain. I have a right to know. Tell me!" - -For answer the young woman looked at him in silence but with tear drops -glistening in her eyes. At last she said: - -"You have done nothing that you ought not, I reckon--nothing to offend -me. Oh, Boyd, I'm not angry with you--I can never feel that way. I owe -my life to you, but that isn't it. I don't know what it is. May be it's -just because I'm weak--or may be just because." - -With that the tears released themselves and trickled down her cheeks. -She could not restrain them and she made no effort to hide them. She -simply stood there facing him and letting the honest tears flow -unrestrained. - -There was no need of second sight to foretell the result. Nothing in -all the world so unseats a man's resolution as the vision of the woman -he loves in tears. Boyd Westover was a full-blooded young man and he -acted after his kind. He took the unresisting girl in his arms and -passionately embraced her. Words on either side were unnecessary. Love -is quick to understand. But the words came also, after a space--words -of love beyond recalling, words of the kind that make or mar human -lives and set Destiny its tasks. - - - - -III - -A WOMAN'S WORD - - -Those were halcyon days that followed, while Margaret lingered at -Wanalah. The barriers were broken down now between these two; the -vexing suspense was over and the most precious certainty that human -kind can know had taken its place. - -And there was not the embarrassment of others' knowing. No word of -their awakened love had been spoken, or could be spoken until -Margaret's return to The Oaks should impose upon her lover the duty of -announcing their understanding to her father and invoking his sanction -of their troth. Until that time should come they were not "engaged" and -might pass their days and nights under one roof without offending even -Virginian propriety. Convention had no claim to control over them in -those blissful intervening days. - -But the shadow of it fell on the morning of the day when Margaret was -to journey homewards in company with her maid. - -"I will visit Colonel Conway at The Oaks to-morrow," Boyd promised as -the pair strolled through the garden during the morning hours that -alone remained to them now. - -"I wonder how he will receive the news--our news, Margaret?" - -"How he will receive it? Why, of course he--" - -"He's rather rigid, you know, in his views of propriety, and I've -sinned against light in that respect. You see I addressed you in my own -home, and not only so, but at a time when you were not able to run -away." - -Margaret laughed half below her breath. - -"That was very terrible of course," she said in an amused tone. "But I -see a way out of it, Boyd." - -"Of course you do. That's feminine instinct. But tell me about it." - -"Why, it's simple enough. If Father finds fault with that, you can take -it all back and say it all over again at The Oaks." - -Boyd smiled over the conceit, but he was not reassured by it. The case -was one in which the least shadow of uncertainty seemed more than he -could endure. - -"Oh I forgot," the girl went on, teasingly; "perhaps it wouldn't be -agreeable to you to rehearse the scene." - -Boyd said not a word in reply, but he managed in another way to -convince her that her doubt on that point was unfounded. When she had -readjusted the "flat" that she wore as headgear--it had somehow become -disarranged--she put jest aside, saying: - -"I think we needn't fear anything of that sort, Boyd. My father is apt -to make distinctions, just as other people are. If he disliked you or -disapproved of you, he would make trouble of course; but as it is I -reckon he will brush the thing aside and scold about the idiocy that -makes such silly rules." - -She paused in her speech for a space. Then she added, in a tone which -the young man afterwards recalled in doubt and distress: - -"At any rate it makes no difference. Nothing can make any -difference--now." - -"Tell me, please," he said gently, "just what you mean by that." - -"I am not a women to love lightly, or lightly to forget. Love seems to -me a holy thing and to trifle with it is blasphemy. I have given you my -love, Boyd, and there is no power in all the universe that can make me -take it back. Even you could not do that. Nothing you might do--even if -it were crime itself--could alter the fact that my love is all yours, -now and forever." - -He drew her to him in a tender embrace, but spoke no word in reply. -Speech in such a case must be an impertinence. Presently she went on: - -"That is what I meant, Boyd. I have promised to be your wife. I shall -keep that promise if the stars fall. I have no doubt my father will -cordially give his consent; but if it should be otherwise, it will make -no difference--I shall keep my promise." - -How those words came back in after time to Boyd Westover! And how he -pondered them in amazement and bitterness of soul! - - - - -IV - -THE BEST LAID PLANS - - -Margaret was right in her anticipations regarding Colonel Conway's -attitude. He highly approved of the young man upon whose gallantry in -rescue he had enthusiastically and incessantly descanted in all -companies. He was in no mood to find fault with the slight lapse of -Boyd Westover from conventional propriety. He liked the way in which -Boyd presented his case, neither justifying his conduct by argument nor -offering excuses for it, but treating it as a matter of manhood -necessity. - -"I suppose I should not have addressed Margaret when I did," he said in -manly fashion; "I ought to have waited, but under the circumstances I -couldn't help myself. Hang it, Colonel, there are times when a man must -do things he ought not." - -"Right, my boy, altogether right, absolutely right, eternally right," -was the enthusiastic response. "It's blood that flows in your -veins--hot blood--and not tepid milk and water. Why, sir, I courted -Margaret's mother as we hung to the gunwale of a capsized sailboat, and -I've been proud of it all my life, sir. A mollycoddle would have waited -for her to comb her hair and put on dry clothes while he was making up -pretty speeches for the occasion. That's the mollycoddle's way. The -man's way is to tell the girl he loves her, whenever the right moment -comes, and leave the dry clothes and the pretty speeches for another -time. So don't apologize, don't fret, don't give the thing another -thought. You shall have Margaret's hand with her father's blessing -whenever you and she choose to fix upon the day. I'll pack The Oaks -with the best of good company; there shall be feasting and--oh, by the -way, there's one little formality I suppose you'll have to go through. -There's Margaret's aunt,--my sister Betsy, you know. It'll be best all -around if you treat her with distinguished consideration. She's apt to -stand upon her dignity, and I've always found it best to recognize the -fact, gracefully. It ministers to peace and comfort. I think you and -Margaret had better present yourselves to her together, and do the -thing up with all the formalities. It will not be necessary to mention -to her the little slip you've been confessing to me. She'd probably -take it seriously. It's a way she has. You can just let her think the -thing occurred here to-day. You and Margaret can go out into the garden -after dinner, and when you return present yourselves to Betsy and tell -her about it as if it had just happened." - -With the reassurance of the solemn words Margaret had spoken the day -before, Boyd Westover had no great fear of anything "Aunt Betsy" might -say, but he was disposed to humor Colonel Conway, and besides he -foresaw that life at The Oaks might be pleasanter for Margaret with the -old lady's approval than without it. So the little diplomatic stratagem -was carried out so successfully that Aunt Betsy--always chary in the -bestowal of praise--said to Margaret that night: - -"If you must marry,--and I suppose you must,--I'm glad you're to marry -a young gentleman who observes the courtesies of life and knows how to -treat his elders with proper respect. I rather approve of Mr. Boyd -Westover." - -"Thank you, Aunt Betsy," Margaret answered, concealing a smile. "You -don't often say so much in praise of a young man." - -"Of course not. In these days it's not easy to find young gentlemen who -deserve any praise at all. Manners are so dreadfully lax nowadays. Even -you shock and distress me frequently, in spite of the pains I've taken -to train you properly." - -"Why, Aunt Betsy, what have I been doing now? Is it something dreadful?" - -"From my point of view it is. You spoke of Mr. Boyd Westover just now, -by implication at least, as a 'young man.' A young lady doesn't -associate with 'young men'; those whom she recognizes are young -_gentlemen_." - -"If you'd seen him encounter that bull and snatch me from under his -horns, Aunt Betsy, I reckon you'd have thought him a good deal of a -man." - -"No--a good deal of a gentleman rather. The distinction is important, -my dear, though I can't make you see it. And besides he's so polite to -his elders, especially ladies. I was never more respectfully treated in -my life. He's just like the young gentlemen of my time. Of course when -he addressed you he sank upon his knees--" - -"He certainly did nothing of the kind," Margaret answered hotly. "If he -had I should have spurned him with contempt. No man who respects -himself would bend his knee to any woman." - -"I wish you would say 'gentleman' and 'lady'--and especially wouldn't -call yourself a 'woman,' Margaret. It's positively shocking. But it's -so with everybody in these degenerate days--even well-bred young girls, -and Heaven is my witness that I've tried hard, to raise you well. When -did he address you the first time?" - -"There was only this one time," Margaret answered, dreamily, as she -recalled the scene on the porch. - -"Do you mean, Margaret, that you accepted him the first time he asked -you?" - -"Yes, Aunt Betsy, why not? I loved him." - -"Margaret, you shock me; worse than that, your conduct grieves and -afflicts me. Haven't I told you a thousand times that no lady ever -forgets her dignity so far as that?" - -"I haven't counted the times, Aunt Betsy, but probably your estimate of -a thousand isn't far wrong. It is more than five hundred at any rate." - -"Margaret, you trifle, and I'm not accustomed to be trifled with." - -"I beg your pardon, Aunt Betsy. I didn't mean to trifle. Listen to me -seriously now. I hold the love of a man and a woman to be the holiest -thing on earth. I regard all trifling with it as blasphemy, and I think -all your rules and conventionalities concerning it silly and sinful -nonsense. If there is ever a time when a woman should be honest and -truthful it is when the man she loves tells her of his love and asks -for hers in return. There, I have shocked you dreadfully, I know, but -you forced me to do it. I have spoken the truth as my soul sees it." - -Without another word the high-strung girl quitted the room. It was the -first time in her life that she had "broken bounds" with her aunt, and -her self-assertion astonished even herself. But she did not and would -not repent of it. Love had brought to her a new dignity of womanhood, -that was all. - -During the week that followed Boyd Westover found himself a busier man -than he had ever been before. He was up at dawn to set going the day's -work in the crops, and not long after sunrise he was apt to appear at -The Oaks where Margaret awaited his coming for their early morning -ride. After breakfast with her he returned to his fields, but by four -o'clock he was at The Oaks again for dinner. His evenings were spent in -his own chamber, where he toiled over papers until far into the night, -in an effort to master every detail of the financial condition of the -Wanalah estate. - -When he had done so, he asked for a conference with Colonel Conway, to -whom he explained his plans. - -"I find that the interest charged on nearly all the notes my father -gave is higher than it ought to be; on some it is positively -extortionate. My father was an optimist, I suppose, and he seems to -have fallen among thieves--money lenders, I should say." - -"One and the same thing," said the elder man. "I know their kind. I'm -myself a victim. Go on." - -"Well, as I figure it out, the excessive interest the estate is -paying--I mean the amount of interest in excess of a reasonable -rate--eats up about half the tobacco crop every year, and I've decided -to stop it, just as we stop the depredations of the worms and -grasshoppers." - -"Good! But how?" - -"Why, I'm going to Richmond, and perhaps to the North if necessary, to -find some one who will take a single mortgage loan for the whole amount -of the estate's debts, a loan carrying a reasonable rate of interest. -With the proceeds I'll cancel all the present debts, and thereafter the -estate will have but one creditor, pay a moderate interest and devote -every dollar of surplus earnings to a steady reduction of the -principal. I've figured the whole thing out, and with ordinarily fair -crops and a reasonable style of living, I can extinguish the entire -debt in ten years or less." - -The two went together over the figures, and the older man, who was both -shrewd and experienced, pronounced the plan entirely sound and -feasible. It remained only to find the bank, insurance company, or -other financial institution that would make the loan. - -In search of that, Boyd Westover set off almost at once for Richmond. -As he rode away after parting with Margaret he turned in his saddle and -gaily waved her a last adieu, quite as if the parting were expected to -be for months or years instead of for the brief tale of days the youth -assigned to it. - - - - -V - -PLEASANT DREAMS AND AN UGLY AWAKENING - - -Boyd Westover sat in his hotel room about nine o'clock in the evening. -Papers, mostly memoranda, lay scattered about upon his table, while -some large sheets were spread out before him. On these he was making -calculations. - -He was a thorough-going person by nature and habit, and he was making -careful estimates of the several offers he had secured for the making -of the desired loan on Wanalah plantation, in an effort to determine -which of them he might most wisely accept. - -Finally he said to himself: - -"The Milhauser offer is the best, or will be if I can persuade the -agent to accept a mortgage instead of the deed of trust he wants. -Perhaps I can. He didn't make the condition peremptory, and he clearly -wants to secure the loan as an investment. I'll see him in the morning. -No, by the way, he said I'd find him at home this evening if I should -want to see him. I'll walk out to his house now." - -Turning to the table he took up one of the memorandum sheets and read -at top the number of the agent's house in far upper Broad Street. - -"It's almost out of town," he muttered. "Must be out beyond Richmond -College. But the walk will do me good, and I'll sleep better if I can -get the thing settled to-night." - -He put an extinguisher over the camphene lamp, and set out without -overcoat or wrap of any kind. It was a warm, cloudy summer night, and -the Virginians rarely wore overcoats even in winter. They were -horsemen, all of them, and even the lightest overcoat is a burden and a -nuisance to one riding on horseback. - -As he walked up Grace Street beneath the spreading shade trees, it -began to rain, not heavily but steadily. Westover was too well -accustomed to the out of door life to think of turning back because of -a drizzle, but as the rain increased he turned up the collar of his -coat and drew his soft felt hat down over his eyes. Presently he -stopped under a street lamp and consulted a paper which he drew from -his pocket. Some detail of the negotiation had escaped his mind and he -stopped thus to refresh his memory. - -As he stood there under the lamp with his back turned away from the -sidewalk Sam Anderson, an acquaintance of his own, passed, and -recognizing him called out: - -"Hello, Boyd! Reading a love letter by the light of a street lamp in a -soaking rain? You'd better go indoors somewhere unless you want to -imagine tear drops punctuating the tender missive." - -Boyd turned and made some careless reply. The two separated--Boyd going -on up Grace Street and turning north to Broad, while Anderson hurried -down town. - -The incident was utterly trifling in itself, but it was destined to -exercise a baleful influence upon Boyd Westover's life. - -It was nearly an hour after midnight when the young man presented -himself again at the hotel office and asked for his key. The night -clerk observed that he was soaked and dripping, for the rain was -falling in torrents now, and suggested the need of a little fire in -Boyd's room. The fire was ordered, as the night had grown chill in -spite of the season, and by the time he had got himself into dry -clothes, the blaze of the soft coal had made the room so cheerful that -the young man decided to write letters before going to bed. One of them -was addressed to Colonel Conway, and in it Boyd announced his success -in arranging the loan, setting forth the terms secured and going -minutely into detail. In the other, which was addressed to Colonel -Conway's daughter, he told again of his success, giving no details at -all, but setting forth his rosy anticipations of the coming time--now -not far away--when she should be "my lady of Wanalah." - -The letter to Colonel Conway was a long one of necessity; that to -Margaret was much longer without any necessity at all. But even the -longest letter must come to an end sometime, and at last, about four -o'clock in the morning, Boyd Westover crept into bed, a man altogether -happy in the present and confidently hopeful of the future. And why -not? Fortune was bringing him its richest gifts. Love was already his -and the future held out to him an assured promise of happiness and -peace in the plantation life he loved. Now that he had succeeded in -arranging his financial affairs to his liking, he had no vexing -problems to wrestle with, no cause of anxiety of any kind. With -Margaret for his wife, with an ample sufficiency of this world's goods, -he had only to conduct his plantation affairs, to entertain his -friends, and to keep company with his books. - -It was of all this he dreamed when he sank to sleep. - -When he awoke a constable stood by his bedside, with two of his -assistants a few feet farther away. - -"Sorry, sir," said the constable. "I don't like to wake a gentleman, -sir, and still less in a case like this. If it was only a common -criminal, sir, I shouldn't mind, but with a young gentleman, my duty -ain't no ways a pleasant job." - -"What do you mean, you ruffian?" angrily asked Westover springing out -of bed. "Why do you presume to--" - -"'Taint presumin' I reckon," answered the constable, "when I've got -this fer my authority. Read it, sir, and see." - -Boyd hastily glanced at the paper. It was a warrant for his arrest on a -charge of burglary. - -He laughed a little, as he proceeded to dress, saying: - -"Of course this is a ludicrous mistake, but you are not to blame for -it. Those who are will have to answer for their blundering. I'm ready. -Take me to the magistrate." - -"He don't git up this soon in the mornin', sir. He was woke up to 'tend -to this thing, an' he wa'n't in no pleasant frame o' mind 'bout it -nuther. I reckon he'll lay abed late this mornin' to make up his lost -sleep, like. I don't reckon he'll show hisself in court till 'long -'bout noon." - -"Where will you take me, then?" - -"I reckon it'll have to be the lock-up, sir." - -"The lock-up? You mean a jail?" - -"Well jail's the straightaway name fer it, but we mostly calls it -lock-up. Seems softer like." - -"Now my man, listen to me. You have no right to put me in jail. Your -warrant merely directs you to arrest me and bring me to court. It says -nothing about locking me up in jail. I tell you there's some absurd -mistake about this thing, and when I'm brought before the magistrate it -will all be cleared up. You can detain me until then without putting a -jail indignity upon me. Stay here at the hotel with me. Go with me to -breakfast, leaving your men on guard outside. When the time comes take -me before the magistrate. In the meanwhile I'll send for my lawyer and -find out what's to be done." - -The constable ran his eye over the muscular young man, and shook his -head. - -"Can't be did," he replied. "You mout make up your mind to break away, -and I don't brag o' stren'th enough to handle a limber twig like you." - -"Well then, you can bring your men with you into the dining room and -keep them with you." - -"See here, Mr. Westover," interrupted the bailiff, "this here ain't -noways a pleasant job fer me, an' ef you'll give me your word of honor -as a gentleman that you won't git me into no trouble by givin' me the -slip or tryin' to break bounds, I'll take the chances on you. I won't -go to breakfast with you, 'cause it 'ud make talk ef folks saw a -gentleman like you a entertainin' a feller like me that a ways. I'll -jest set down furder down the table like, an' leave my men outside. Is -it a go?" - -"Yes, and thank you for your consideration. I give you my word of honor -as a gentleman that I will make no attempt to escape, either during -breakfast or at any other time, and that when you wish me to go to the -court with you I'll go without a word. Is that sufficient?" - -"Yes, sir, that's enough. A gentleman may do things that gits him into -trouble with the courts, but I ain't never knowed a gentleman to break -his word of honor." - -The constable was by no means an over-confiding person, but the dictum -he announced was based upon the facts of a social system with which he -had been familiar all his life. It would have been accepted without -question by any other man of his class in the commonwealth. Thanks to -it, Boyd Westover was left free to go and come at will within the -precincts of the hotel. He hurriedly summoned his friend and attorney, -Jack Towns, and remained in conference with him throughout the morning. - -Neither could frame any plausible conjecture as to the meaning of the -arrest. There was nothing in any of the morning newspapers to give even -a hint toward the solution of the mystery. It was not the practice of -the Richmond newspapers at that time to print news, except such as -related to politics. If by chance they recorded any local happening, it -was by mere mention, in small type in some out of the way corner of -columns which were mainly devoted to ponderous editorial essays on -affairs of state, and to a reprint of the proceedings of Congress on -the day before. - -It was not until the two friends, lawyer and client, were escorted by -the bailiff to a magistrate's court that they learned aught of the -charge against the accused man. What they learned there was very -little, but it furnished a basis for further inquiry on their part. As -this is not a detective story, all that they learned in court and by -subsequent inquiry may best be related directly, in another chapter. - - - - -VI - -OUT OF A CLEAR SKY - - -On a corner of Grace Street in that part of it which Westover had twice -traversed on the evening before, stood a very spacious dwelling house, -used at that time as a "Select Educational Establishment for Young -Ladies." That was what the proprietor, Monsieur Le Voiser, called it in -his circulars and the like; everybody else called it "Le Voiser's -School." - -There young women, mostly the daughters of the well to do planters, -were "finished" after the most approved fashion. The training they had -received at the hands of their governesses and tutors was supplemented -by certain refinements of education which were deemed necessary to the -perfection of their minds and manners. They had already learned to -strum on the piano; here they were taught how to do so with ease and -grace and with the air of accomplished _pianistes_. Instead of Stephen -C. Foster's melodious but idiotically sentimental songs, which they -loved, they were trained to screech "Hear me Norma," and other -"operatic pieces," which they loathed. More important than all, they -were taught French until they could dream in that language--bad dreams -probably, if they were in harmony with the French in which they were -cast. - -Boyd Westover was acquainted with a dozen or more of Monsieur Le -Voiser's pupils, they being the daughters of his neighbors and friends. -He knew the place also, having delivered a brief course of lectures -there during the preceding year. - -About half past twelve o'clock on the night on which he had stopped -under a street lamp to read a paper in the rain, there was an alarm in -Le Voiser's school. There were shriekings that might have been heard a -block away; there were a few faintings, and there was a general muster -of scantily robed young women headed by the matron of the -establishment, who was madly bent upon marching them into the garden in -spite of the pouring rain. - -The alarm had gone forth that there was "a man in the house." One girl -had imprudently asked, "Is it a burglar?" only to bring down the -matron's wrath upon her head. - -"What does that matter to you, Mademoiselle? As a properly brought up -young lady it is enough for you to know that he's a man. You should be -ashamed to need more than that to alarm you." - -It was Monsieur Le Voiser's proud boast that "French is the language of -the establishment, and no young lady attending it is permitted to -employ any other tongue." It is perhaps an illustration of the -untrustworthiness of educational veneering, that in this time of -excitement nobody spoke a word of French, until the intruder, who had -been hiding behind a door, slipped from his place of concealment and -made a dash for the verandah through the French window by which he had -entered. As he did so the light of three or four bedroom candles held -high in air fell full upon him, and half a dozen of the girls shouted -in chorus: - -"_Regardez_ him! It's Mr. Boyd Westover!" - -The consternation which fell upon the excited group at this -announcement seemed to afford a sufficient occasion for several -interesting attacks of hysteria, in the execution of which one damsel -made the startling announcement: - -"He came to kidnap me!" repeating it several times. When she grew a -little calmer so that she might be questioned as to her meaning she -declared that Boyd Westover was madly in love with her. Then, having -set the inventive machinery of her creative imagination going, she told -a romantic story interesting to hear and perfectly delicious to tell. - -In it she figured as a heroine of romance, beset by the passionate -entreaties of a lover to whom she found it impossible to give her love -in return, and so forth to the end of as pretty a story of love and -coldness, persuasion and pleading, as any that Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz -or Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth ever manufactured for the delectation of -languishing Lydias. - -The girl's ambition to win interest in her own behalf somewhat -overreached itself. The other girls were jealous of her romantic -distinction and, when they grew calm while she got herself carried to -bed, they flatly refused to believe her story. - -But there was no room for doubt that the intruder was Boyd Westover, or -that he had forced the fastenings of a bolted window in gaining -entrance. One girl, whose father was a lawyer, explained that this -forcing of fastenings, however frail they might have been, constituted -the crime of burglary. - -Then somebody remembered that the intruder had escaped and some one -else ventured the suggestion that steps ought to be taken to apprehend -him. To that end Monsieur Le Voiser was summoned from his private -residence in the next street. After all the girls who personally knew -Boyd Westover, and all those who had attended his course of lectures -had borne witness that the intruder was unmistakably he, Monsieur -proceeded to set the machinery of the law in motion, with the results -already set forth. - -When Boyd, with Jack Towns as his counsel, presented himself before the -magistrate, there was a group of Monsieur Le Voiser's pupils there, -whom Jack Towns, borrowing his text from the circus posters, called "A -bevy of beauty and galaxy of grace." They were there under command of -their matron to testify to the facts of the burglary and the identity -of the burglar, which they one and all did with so much confidence that -Jack Towns found it impossible to shake their beliefs in the smallest -degree. - -Sam Anderson was there too, very reluctantly indeed and under -compulsion of a subpÅ“na. The Commonwealth's Attorney had somehow -learned of his encounter with Westover near the scene of the burglary -under what appeared to be suspicious circumstances. The hotel clerk was -present to testify concerning the hour and circumstances of Westover's -return to the hotel on the night before. - -To meet all this array of testimony, Boyd Westover had no single -witness of any kind. And if there had been any such Jack Towns would -not have put him on the stand. It was clear that the accused young man -must be committed in any case to await the action of the Grand Jury, -and Jack Towns was much too shrewd a lawyer to waste strength--if he -had had any strength--in this preliminary hearing. He devoted himself -instead to the task of getting the bail fixed at as low a sum as -possible. When he pleaded that his client was well known to be a -gentleman of the best family connections and the most scrupulous honor, -a man to whom the commission of such a crime was utterly impossible, -the magistrate reminded him that the witnesses were young gentlewomen -of equally good families, in whom perjury was not even conceivable; -that their number was too great and their testimony too positive to -leave room for the theory of possible mistake; and finally that the -very fact of Boyd Westover's high place in life rendered any crime on -his part especially heinous. He felt bound, he said, to fix bail at -five thousand dollars--a very great sum in those days. - -Within the hour, however, Boyd's friends and those who had been friends -of his father, rallied about him, ready and eager to furnish bonds for -any amount. Not one of them knew aught of the merits of the case, and -not one of them asked a question concerning it. They simply did not -believe that Boyd Westover had broken by night into a girls' school for -any purpose whatever, and they were determined that he should not go to -jail while awaiting indictment and trial on so absurd a charge. - -"Now come with me," said Jack Towns as soon as the matter of the bail -bonds was settled. "We'll go to my house, not to my office, to avoid -interruptions. I must get at the very marrow of this matter before a -word is said about it. Come." - -When the two were seated in an untidy room of Jack Towns's untidy -bachelor establishment, and Jack had locked the front door for the -first time within his recollection, he turned to his friend, saying: - -"I want you to tell me every thing you did last night--the unimportant -things even more than the important. Don't be afraid of boring me with -details, and relate everything in the order in which it occurred. Then -I'll cross-examine you as rigidly as if you were a witness concealing -something. Perhaps we may discover something to shed light upon what -seems the most perplexing mystery I ever knew. Go on." - -Boyd told the story in minute detail, ending it by saying: - -"I can make oath to all that and swear that nothing else of any kind -occurred." - -"No, you can't," said Jack Towns. "The court won't let you swear to any -of it." - -"Can I not make a statement of facts in a case that involves my -liberty, my reputation, and everything else that I care for?" - -"No. The law of Virginia does not permit an accused person to testify -in his own behalf. That is the Common Law rule, and Virginia is under -the Common Law. Don't tell me the thing is absurd, unjust, cruel, -barbaric, and all that; for I know it already. It is the law, and you -and I cannot change it. Let us go on with our inquiry instead. Do you -know approximately at what hour you passed Le Voiser's school on your -return from your visit to Milhauser?" - -"I know exactly. It was precisely half-past twelve. I saw lights -carried about in the school and, wondering at the fact, looked at my -watch to see the hour." - -"And you left Milhauser's house at what time?" - -"Half-past ten." - -"Why did it take you so long to get back to the hotel?" - -"Milhauser's house, as you know, is away out of town--beyond Richmond -College. There's a horse car which runs at irregular intervals between -the college and the Broad Street end of the Fredericksburg Railroad, -using the track of that railroad when no train is due. When I got to -the college gate it was raining heavily and I took shelter under a sort -of shed opposite the gates to wait for the car. It didn't come, and at -last I decided to walk on." - -"Why did you turn south and into Grace Street, instead of coming on -down Broad?" - -"Because it was raining and muddy, and the sidewalks are better in -Grace Street. Besides, as my hotel is in Main Street I had to turn -south at some point on the journey." - -"Yes, of course." - -After a period of silent thinking to no purpose, Jack Towns said: - -"It's a queer case. All those girls swear you were in the school a -little after twelve. Milhauser, if questioned, would have to swear that -you left his house at half-past ten. You saw nobody else after that, -who could even suggest an alibi. You got to the hotel drenched and -dripping, at precisely the time you would have got there if you had -been chased out of the school at the time the intruder was. You admit -that you passed the school at the time of the disturbance. The case is -so clearly made out against you, both by the positive testimony of -eyewitnesses, and by all the circumstances, that any jury ever -empanelled would have to convict you. Why, I'd feel bound to convict -you myself--" - -"Do you mean that you have the remotest shadow of doubt as to my -innocence of this charge?" sternly demanded Westover, rising. - -"Certainly not. Don't be an idiot. Sit down. But as the case stands we -haven't a straw to cling to. We can't impeach the testimony of a dozen -high-bred young women, every one of whom swears positively that she -knows you well and that she saw you make your escape from the invaded -precincts. There is no way in which we can so much as cast a doubt upon -your guilt. With the case presented as it stands, any juror who should -hesitate to pronounce you guilty would be a perjurer. The only hope is -that we may find some way out before the case comes to trial." - -"When will that be?" asked Boyd Westover, in a tone so stoically calm -that Jack Towns looked at him to see what had happened to him. - -"Are you ill?" he asked. - -"No, not at all. It is only that I see the utter hopelessness of the -case. I am a man condemned to worse than death. But I am a _man_ and -must face even such calamity without flinching. When the trial is over, -I shall be a convicted felon. It will do no good to assert my -innocence. Nobody will believe it--nobody can, in face of the -testimony. My life is ruined, my reputation blasted, my doom sealed. -But I shall neither whine nor whimper. Now tell me when the blow is to -fall? When will the trial occur?" - -"The court is in session now. The indictment will be found to-morrow, -but I shall secure a postponement of the trial until the next term." - -"Do nothing of the kind. Let the trial come on at once--the sooner the -better. Delay will do no sort of good. I believe every accused person -is entitled to 'a speedy trial.' Demand that for me, and secure it." - -Towns argued and pleaded, but to no purpose. He could offer no -suggestion of advantage in delay, except by saying: - -"I have always found it worth while to trust to the unexpected. If we -have time, something may happen that we don't anticipate." - -"And I, in the meantime?" answered Boyd. "No. Bring the thing to a head -at once. How soon can you make it?" - -"Within forty-eight hours," answered the lawyer. "I advise against it, -but--" - -"I quite understand. The responsibility rests upon me. Go on and make -an end of the horrible thing." - - - - -VII - -IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW - - -It was the chivalric custom of the Virginians to protect their -woman-kind in all circumstances, at all costs and at all hazards, not -only against wrong and danger, but equally against annoyance and -especially the annoyance of publicity. Women in Virginia were proudly -feminine; men intensely and bravely masculine. - -Accordingly the news of Boyd Westover's case had only begun to spread -abroad when all the male relatives of all the girls in Le Voiser's -school set themselves to hurry their daughters, sisters and nieces into -secure hiding, so that they might be spared the annoyance of appearing -in court as witnesses in a criminal case. - -Short as the time was, the officers sent to serve summonses upon such -as were wanted found the school well nigh deserted. Some even of those -on whom they succeeded in serving their subpÅ“nas were protectingly -abducted before the day of the trial by relatives who braved the -penalties of contempt of court in rescue of delicately nurtured maidens -dear to them. - -Nevertheless there were one or two of the girls present in court when -Boyd Westover was called to the bar. These had been in hiding, but -their places of concealment had been discovered and the girls -themselves brought by force to the court. Then too the matron was there -prepared to bear unhesitating witness to Boyd's identity with the -offender. - -A good deal of time was consumed in securing a jury. The first man -called declared: - -"I would not believe this charge against Boyd Westover even if I had -been present, seeing him with my own eyes." Others expressed their -incredulity in different forms of words but with equal positiveness, -and of course all such were rejected. It thus happened that the jury -was not completed till a late hour in the day. But on the other hand it -took very little time for the Commonwealth's witnesses to give their -testimony, and after one or two fruitless attempts to secure from them -an admission of doubt or possible mistake, Jack Towns forbore to cross -examine them. - -He had no witnesses to offer in his client's behalf. He had nothing to -depend upon indeed except a certain persuasive eloquence which had -often served him well, and this he brought to bear with all his -passionate nature to stimulate it. He spoke for an hour. He argued, -pleaded, persuaded. He set forth the character of his client and of the -distinguished family from which he was sprung. He dwelt upon the utter -improbability of the commission of such a crime by such a man. He -pointed out and emphasized the fact that a girls' school was not the -place that any housebreaker in his senses would think of entering in -search of booty. He ended with an impassioned setting forth of the ruin -and disgrace that must fall upon this high-charactered young man as the -result of an adverse verdict. So eloquently and so pathetically did he -present the pitiful aspect of the matter that tears ran down scores of -cheeks, and the Judge himself bowed his head upon the desk in front of -the bench, as if to conceal an emotion he could not control. - -The Commonwealth's Attorney--the prosecuting officer--rose, but instead -of making the usual speech, simply said, in a voice choked with sobs: - -"The testimony is before you, gentlemen of the jury. I have nothing to -add to it." - -There was but one result possible. Ten minutes after the jury retired, -it filed into court again bearing a verdict of "Guilty." - -Boyd Westover was a convicted felon. The sun of his fair young life had -gone down amid clouds of black disgrace, and it could know no rising. -Worse than death a thousand fold, worse than the cruelest torture was -this to a proudly sensitive nature, nurtured in traditions of honor -that held every slightest character stain to be an indelible blot. - -Yet it was with head erect, with dry eyes, with unshaken nerves and -unflinching spirit that he met this decree of doom. It was the -tradition of his race to meet Fate without faltering, to fight while -the possibility of fighting lasted, and when it failed, to shroud an -undaunted soul in the chain mail of unconquerable courage. - -When the verdict was rendered, the young man turned to his friend and -counsellor, and in an entirely unemotional voice, said: - -"I thank you sincerely for all you have done and tried to do. I have -need of a little time in which to arrange my affairs. Can you do me a -final favor by securing it for me?" - -The matter was easily arranged. The Judge, full of compassion for the -ruined youth, and in spite of reason, testimony, and everything else, -still not believing in Boyd Westover's guilt, asked if ten days would -suffice. Then without renewing the bail bonds that had expired with the -beginning of the trial, he appointed the tenth day thereafter for -sentence. It was the Commonwealth's Attorney's business to move for the -renewal of the bonds, without which the condemned man was in fact under -no restraint whatever, but he made no motion of the kind. When asked by -Jack Towns some time afterwards why he had not done his duty in that -respect, he replied: - -"I simply couldn't. Boyd Westover and I were schoolmates, you know, and -I lived for many months in his father's house. I _knew_ he wouldn't run -away. Who ever heard of a Westover flinching? Why should I subject him -to an indignity?" - -Thus, in Virginia, did character--personal and inherited--count. There -were some things that a gentleman could not do. He might commit a crime -of violence, but he could not do a cowardly or treacherous act. The -bailiff who had trusted Boyd Westover's word of honor, knew that and -risked the loss of his place upon his confidence in it. The -Commonwealth's Attorney knew it and took the chance of impeachment upon -it. - -The net result was that on the day of his conviction Boyd Westover -walked out of court an absolutely free man except in so far as he was -bound by his own sense of honor and by the traditions of the race from -which he was sprung. These bound him to appear in court for sentence at -the end of the ten days allowed to him, and as everybody knew, the bond -was amply sufficient. - -Jack Towns took him in the meanwhile to his own house. - -"You'll be my guest," he said, "and I'll see that we aren't -interrupted." - -"You still don't mind that?" Boyd asked. - -For response he got an earnest look in the eyes, and the verbal answer: - -"Don't be a fool, Boyd." - -After a minute, Boyd asked, reflectively: - -"How is it, Jack, that you and some others seem still to believe in me? -In view of the evidence--" - -"Hang the evidence," interrupted the lawyer. "Don't you know that -character is the most important and the most trustworthy fact in life? -You don't suppose for a moment that I have a doubt in your case, do -you? If you do, you grievously wrong my friendship." - -"How then do you account for the facts as set forth in the testimony -against me?" - -"What do you mean, Boyd? Are you trying to convince me that you are -guilty of a crime that I know to be utterly impossible to you?" - -"No. I am only trying to find out the grounds of your confidence in me, -so that I may know how far to impose on them in making my arrangements -for the future. That's the purport of my question, which, by the way, -you haven't answered yet." - -"Oh well, as to that, you're the victim of some hideous mistake. If you -had let me stave off your trial for six months the chances are we -should have found out what the mistake is. As it is--" - -"As it is, I couldn't have lived for six months in such suspense as -that. Neither could you, in like case. We're the sort of men who say to -the lightning, 'Strike if you will, but don't prolong your threats.' -Besides, I cannot see how this thing could have been bettered by delay. -Those girls honestly believe they recognized me as an intruder in the -school. They would believe that quite as firmly six months hence as -now." - -"Perhaps so. But six months hence not one of them would have been in -Virginia to testify against you. Their friends would have taken care of -that." - -"Yes, I know. And I should have been suspected of securing my acquittal -by spiriting away the witnesses against me. I couldn't live under so -black a shadow as that." - -"I understand. But all this is profitless. We have much to do to get -your affairs in order. Let us address ourselves to that. First of all -I've had all your mail sent up here from the hotel. Suppose you read it -now, and after supper we'll set to work." - - - - -VIII - -THE SHADOWS FALL - - -When the shadows begin to fall upon a human life, they fall quickly and -darkly. - -In Boyd Westover's mail was a letter from the agent who had arranged -the mortgage loan upon Wanalah plantation, threatening to abandon the -arrangement on the ground that young Westover's conviction impaired the -security. This sorely troubled Boyd Westover--for if he was to go to -prison his mother's financial ease was a matter of primary concern to -him. It didn't trouble Jack Towns in the least. - -"Leave that to me for answer," the lawyer said, taking possession of -the letter. "The man ought to seek employment as an oyster-opener at -Rockett's. That's about his size. That mortgage is completely executed. -I've seen to it, pending--other things. That will stand, and, as the -property is amply good for it, the fellow's an idiot to want to fly his -bargain." - -There was news in the next mail that could not be so lightly dismissed. -The family physician wrote that Boyd's mother, already in feeble and -precarious health, had been shocked by the tidings of her son's -calamity into a condition that threatened the worst. This calamity was -one which even Boyd Westover's stoicism could not face without -flinching. From childhood his affection for his mother had been a -dominant passion, and since his father's death it had become fatherly -as well as filial. He had jealously guarded that "little mother," as he -called her, against every shock, every care, every breath of an adverse -wind as it were. He had made a veritable pet of her, and while never -for a moment laying aside his chivalric respect and reverence, he had -added to them a certain big brotherly manner in which she had found joy -untellable. If she wearied while walking with him in the house grounds, -he would pick her up, as he might have done with any child, and in -spite of her laughing protests, carry her into the porch and deposit -her in a hammock. If a light shone disagreeably in her eyes he -discovered it and shut it off before she became conscious of its glare. -If she went to her room to rest he quietly stationed a maid at the foot -of the stairs with orders to permit no noise and no passing up or down. - -Now that news came of this dearly loved little mother's serious -illness, the young man was made to suffer agonies by the consciousness -that her affliction was on his account, so that it required all of Jack -Towns's eloquence to convince him that he was himself in nowise to -blame for it. By way of emphasizing that, the young lawyer had to put -the matter into brutally plain phrase. - -"If you were guilty of the crime of which you have been convicted, and -for which you will have to serve a term in state's prison, you would do -well to scourge your soul with a whip of scorpions for your sin against -the mother who bore you. As you are innocent of that and of all other -crimes you have no right to hold yourself responsible for the -consequences of other people's mistakes." - -"Am I free to go to my mother while she yet lives?" Boyd asked in an -agony of apprehension. - -Then Jack Towns lied--like the generous gentleman he was. - -"No," he said. "Legally you are free to go anywhere you please--to -Mozambique or the dominions of Mumbo Jumbo if you choose. But you are -free only because of the generous confidence of the Judge and the -Commonwealth's Attorney in your honor as a gentleman. You are bound by -that honor not to leave Richmond during the days granted you." - -As a matter of fact Jack Towns had in his possession a letter addressed -to him by the Westover family physician in which were written these -words: - -"Whatever else happens, for heaven's sake don't let Boyd come home now. -The shock of seeing him would kill his mother out of hand." - -But Jack Towns was a lawyer and he found a better way of putting the -matter by way of accomplishing his purpose. - -Still another thing darkened the young man's way. It was not because of -news, but because of no news at all. - -There was no line in any of his mails from Margaret Conway, the woman -he loved with all his soul, the woman who had plighted her troth to him -in the impassioned words he so well remembered: - -"I am not a woman to love lightly or lightly to forget. Love seems to -me a holy thing, and to trifle with it a blasphemy. I have given you my -love, Boyd, and there is no power in all the universe that can make me -take it back. Even you could not do that. Nothing you might do--even if -it were crime itself--could alter the fact that my love is all yours, -now and forever." - -Upon reflection, he absolved Margaret from blame, and with good reason. -Upon his first accusation he had not written to her at all in -supplement to the love letter of that night. He had regarded the whole -matter as a thing preposterous, which a hearing in the magistrate's -court would promptly dissipate into thin air, and it had been his -kindly thought not to tell her of the absurd accusation until he could -tell her also of the ridiculous end made of it at a court hearing. When -at last the matter had assumed a serious aspect he had written her a -letter in which he had asserted his innocence but without protesting it -in any impassioned way. To that he had added: - -"Of course if I am a man of honor I am bound to offer you a release -from the engagement between us, while if I am not an honorable man but -the criminal I am accused of being, you are free to take your release -without permission from me." - -A calculation showed that if that letter had reached its destination -when it should, and if an answer had been sent by the first returning -mail, he should now have the reply. But mails were slow and uncertain -in those days and The Oaks lay far up near the Blue Ridge and seven -miles from the post office. It might easily have happened that his -letter to Margaret had not reached her as soon as it should; or that -the shock of it might have unfitted her to reply immediately; or that -her answer might have been delayed in transmission. All these were -possibilities, and they comforted the young man. - -But as the days went by and still no letter came from Margaret the -comfort became less and less, until at last he despaired and summoned -his stoicism to his relief. - -"Why should I have expected her to write to me?" he asked himself. -"What obligation can she owe to a convicted criminal? I was a fool to -look for a letter. I must bear my burden alone. I must meet my fate -with a calm mind." - -Then another thought came to him. - -"I am living in a fool's paradise. Jack Towns professes still to -believe in me, and perhaps he does. But how can I expect anybody else -to do so? In view of the testimony against me, there is no room or -reason for doubt of my guilt in any sane mind. I must recognize that -and face it with what courage I can. I am a convicted criminal, and I -must expect everybody to regard me as such. I must go through my life -with that brand upon my brow. There is an end of hope for me. I must -simply endure." - -It was characteristic of him that in all this melancholy meditation, no -thought of suicide entered his mind. He had from his youth up held his -life in readiness for sacrifice in any worthy behalf. There was never a -time when he would not have given it as a forfeit in behalf of those he -loved, never a time when he would not have laid it down gladly in -answer to any call of duty. But the cowardly thought of destroying it -by way of himself escaping from intolerable sufferings did not suggest -itself to his brave young soul. It is a man's part to endure what comes -to a man, and Boyd Westover was altogether a man. - -He remembered Margaret's impassioned promise, and he doubted not the -sincerity of her soul in giving it. But he absolved her now and -accepted the result as part and parcel of the strangely bewildering -Fate that had overtaken him. - -To that effect he wrote to her on the night before the day appointed -for his sentencing. On that day had come to him the crushing news of -his mother's death, and very bitterly he had felt the cruelty of a fate -that forbade him even to go home to bury his dead. - -He wrote to Margaret: - -"I find that I have been expecting some letter from you in reply to my -late one. I realize that I had neither right nor reason to expect -anything of the kind. I am a convicted criminal, convicted upon -testimony so conclusive that no sane person can doubt its truth. -To-morrow morning I shall be sentenced. You can have no relations with -me. You can bear me no duty of any kind. It is only to say this that I -write to you now, to say that I hold you absolved from any and all -obligations toward me, and that I shall live and die cherishing in full -measure my faith in your loyalty and truth. You are never to let a -doubt of that vex your mind." - -With that he finally banished all thought of his past life, its joys, -its sorrows, its aspirations and its apprehensions, from his mind. - -"How long a sentence will they give me, Jack?" he asked his lawyer. - -"I don't know. The shortest, probably, or very nearly the shortest that -the law allows; not over two years at any rate." - -"Of course it doesn't matter," Boyd answered. "Two minutes or two years -of shame are all one to a sensitive man, and as for the 'hard labor,' -I'm strong and well. I probably shall not find it interesting to grind -stove lids or do whatever else the prison authorities set me at, but at -any rate the work will occupy the time and prevent me from thinking too -deeply. It will tire me, too, so that I shall sleep of nights." - -Jack Towns found nothing to say by way of reply, and he said nothing. -Presently Boyd drew a package of papers from his pocket and passed it -over to the man he regarded as the one friend left him in all the world -now. - -"Perhaps you'd better look into that," he said. "It may help Wanalah -out of difficulty. I don't know. The thing came in my mail a week ago, -but it didn't interest me then and I slipped it into my pocket and -forgot all about it. No, don't bother with it now. Read it later. Just -now I have something else to talk to you about. You've promised to look -after my affairs while I'm in prison, and there's one thing I want to -ask you. Don't let the overseer at Wanalah work the servants too hard. -There is no need. With only ordinary crops the plantation can easily -carry its load now, and I don't want the people there overworked. See -to it please. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. To-morrow night -I'll lie in a cell." - -With that the young man withdrew, and after half an hour of sad gazing -at the moonlight that streamed in through the window, Jack Towns turned -up the gas and set to work reading the papers that had failed to -interest their owner. They interested Jack Towns amazingly, and he had -no sooner finished the reading of them than he hurried unceremoniously -into Boyd's room, and shaking him said: - -"Here, get up. This thing must be attended to immediately. There are -papers to be drawn and executed at once. So hustle into some clothes -quick." - - - - -IX - -THE COURAGE OF WOMANHOOD - - -When rumors came to The Oaks of Boyd Westover's trouble, Margaret -Conway's first impulse was to drive over to Wanalah and comfort Boyd's -mother with assurances that there could be no truth in the reports. -Margaret had always cherished a very tender affection for Mrs. -Westover, and during the brief time since her love had been pledged to -Boyd, she had found that affection rapidly taking upon itself the -character of a girl's tenderness for her mother. Having never known a -mother of her own, the girl was quick to make herself a daughter in -affection where she was presently to become a daughter in law and in -fact. She drove every day to Wanalah and spent loving hours there with -the gentle invalid who had so warmly welcomed her daughterly love. - -But when the evil news of Boyd's conviction came and Margaret planned -to go earlier than usual to Wanalah, Colonel Conway objected. - -"You will only distress yourself and afflict her," he said. "This thing -will be your only topic of conversation, and what can either of you say -that will bring comfort to the other?" - -"I can tell her I love her and that I loyally believe in Boyd," -answered the girl with all the pride of her race in her voice and -attitude. - -"But how can you say that, daughter, in face of the evidence?" - -"It isn't evidence--it's merely testimony. The evidence lies in Boyd -Westover's character and it flatly contradicts the testimony. The -testimony is false; the evidence is subject to no possible question. -I'm sorry you don't see it so, Father." - -The old man paced the floor for a space and then answered: - -"Perhaps I do see it so. I'd like to, at any rate; I'm strongly -disposed to give the young man the benefit of the doubt, but--" - -"There isn't any doubt," interjected the passionate girl with -vehemence. "There isn't any doubt, and I shall quarrel even with you, -Father, if you suggest such a thing." - -"Be calm, my child," pleaded the old man placatively. "Perhaps you are -right. I'm disposed to take your view--strongly so. But there's your -Aunt Betsy, you know." - -"Yes, I know. She's the only human being you were ever afraid of, -Father. But you're afraid of her as everybody else is--everybody but -me. I don't know why." - -"But your Aunt Betsy presents the matter in a way that must be -considered. She says--" - -"Oh, I know what she says," interrupted the overwrought girl. "She has -said it all to me, over and over again. She urges the conventions--the -cowardly shams and falsities of our artificial life. She talks of 'what -people will say,' as if it made any difference what people say when we -know we are doing right. You _know_ that Boyd Westover is an honorable -man, just as I know it. If you hadn't been afraid of Aunt Betsy, you'd -have done your duty like a man; you'd have gone to Boyd's side. You'd -have stood by him in his hour of need--" - -"But, Margaret, what good would that have done in face of the evidence -or the testimony, for I agree with you that there's a difference?" - -"It would have strengthened and encouraged him with the assurance that -one brave man at least knew his character and was ready to face calumny -with an assertion of his confidence. But you were afraid of Aunt Betsy. -It is the only cowardice I ever knew you to be guilty of. She talks of -placing 'blots on our escutcheon'--as if we had an escutcheon, whatever -that sort of thing may be; I tell you the worst blot of all was made by -your failure to go to Richmond and stand by Boyd in his undeserved -trouble. You played the part of a coward there. Pardon me if my words -are harsh. I feel them and mean them. Now I am going to Wanalah. I, at -least, will do my part as a descendant of a brave race, if all the -demons of perdition stand in the way." - -With that the girl moved proudly out of the house, mounted the horse -that a negro held waiting for her, and rode away. - -She did not return until after the funeral at Wanalah, which her father -and her aunt attended, and when she returned, her attitude was one of -stately reserve which appalled her father and "grieved" her aunt. - -In the meanwhile she had written every day a loyal letter to Boyd -Westover. - -Not one of those letters ever reached him. Nor did any of his letters -come to her. Aunt Betsy had deemed it her "duty to the family" to see -to that, and Aunt Betsy prided herself upon doing her duty, no matter -how disagreeable it might be--to others. - -But the failure of the missives left Margaret in sorely distressing -perplexity. Why did not Boyd write to her? Why did he not take her into -his confidence? Especially why did he not respond, in some way, to her -repeated avowals of splendid loyalty and confidence? - -She could not understand. She could not even inquire. She could only -mourn. - - - - -X - -THE PACKET OF PAPERS - - -Jack Towns was accustomed to have about him whatever there was that -could make his hard-working life comfortable, if any reasonable -expenditure of money could secure it. And he interpreted the words -"reasonable expenditure," in that connection, rather liberally. His -income was large and he had nobody anywhere dependent upon him. -Accordingly he was one of the two or three self-indulgent men in -Richmond at that time, who possessed a set bath tub with water taps -running into it and a showering apparatus above. - -When he roused his friend that night, after hurriedly running through -the packet of papers, he was full of an eagerness and enthusiasm which -the other did not seem to share. Boyd Westover was sleepy, and worse -still, in his present case, he was indifferent. What good could a -packet of papers or anything else bring to a man disgraced, condemned, -doomed to a life of lost repute? He heartily wished that Jack had kept -the papers and done whatever he pleased with them after the closing of -the prison doors behind himself on the approaching day. But in response -to Jack's insistence, he arose, drew on a light dressing gown and -slippers, and offered his dully uninterested presence in Jack's dining -room. 4 Promptly recognizing his condition of mind, Jack took matters -into his own hands, after a masterful habit he had. He seized Boyd by -the elbow and led him into the bath room. - -"There," he said; "lay off your gown and pull your toes out of those -slippers. Hop into the tub and I'll wake you up." - -At the next instant the cold shower descended upon the young man's head -and person, and Jack continued his chatter. - -"Now you're awake, rub yourself down and come into the dining room. -I've got to have you awake and you and I are going to work all night. -I've sent Dick for half a hundred oysters and a dozen bottles of cold -ale, and later he'll make black coffee for us. Hurry up now, and 'do -try to be interested' as a bashful friend of mine said to a girl when -he was about to propose to her." - -As he left the bath room abruptly, Boyd made no reply until he joined -the lawyer in the dining room where the papers from the packet lay -spread out in the order in which they were to be taken up for -consideration. Then he said: - -"I will try to be interested, Jack; for your sake I'll do my best. But -what interest can a man in my position feel in anything?" - -"Now listen to me, Boyd!" Jack Towns said commandingly, and rising to -his feet to say it. "Listen to me. You are morbid. You need calomel or -something. You're the victim of some mistake and you're in sore -trouble. But you are not disgraced. Nobody can disgrace a man but the -man himself. You are conscious of your own honor; what matters it what -others think? Besides, no honest man in Virginia believes that you are -guilty of a sneaking crime or capable of it. The jury that convicted -you didn't believe it and not one of them believes it now. The Judge -who will sentence you doesn't believe it. If the envious and malignant -falsely pretend to believe it, why should you care for the despicable -pretense of people so utterly unworthy? If cowards fight shy of your -acquaintance, lest recognition of you should compromise themselves, why -should you care for the acquaintance of such poltroons? You are -Westover of Wanalah--inheritor of an honorable name. You will be that -so long as you shall live. It behoves you to bear that name with head -erect and with contempt alone for those who do not recognize your -worthiness to bear it. This affair is an unfortunate incident. It will -soon be over, and you will have a lifetime before you in which to teach -men the falsity of the accusation against you. There. My lecture is -done. Let us get to these papers. They hold great news for you." - -When the two were seated, Jack took up a letter, which was first of the -papers in the order of consideration. - -"This is from a firm of lawyers, Dodge, Denslow and Deming of -Denver--charmingly alliterative throughout--do you happen to know who -they are?" - -"Yes, in a way. There was a memorandum among my father's papers, that -mentioned them." - -"Well, go on. What did it say, or reveal, or suggest? This is business, -Boyd. Put your thinking machine on it." - -"I will,--to oblige you, Jack. The memorandum catalogued a long list of -mining lands and mining claims somewhere up in the Rocky Mountains or -in some side issue of a range--you'll find the paper in my desk at -home--lands and claims which my father had bought during one of his -journeys out that way and had placed in my name, as a provision for me -in case of accident." - -"That accounts for these papers being in your name and not your -father's," interrupted Jack. "I was puzzled by that. But go on. I want -to hear all about it." - -"Well, you know my father was an optimist--a dreamer almost--and he was -possessed of an idea, reflected in the memorandum, that these things -would make the future Westover of Wanalah--myself or my son if I should -have one--enormously rich. As nearly as I could make out, the -multitudinous lands and mining claims he bought in my name covered a -large area of entirely untillable and not very accessible land -somewhere up in the high mountains, where grub-staked miners scratched -the surface for silver ore, with now and then a little find of gold. -They worked on shares somehow, and this law firm collected my share -from time to time and remitted it. It was so small a part of the assets -of the estate that I've forgotten how much it was. That's all I know of -Dodge, Denslow & Deming." - -"You're likely to know a good deal more about them hereafter," said -Jack, "if I can awaken in your mind a reasonable interest in a matter -that promises to make you the richest man in Virginia, twice or thrice -over." - -"Cui bono?" responded Boyd. "When my prison term ends I shall have -enough, without that, to feed me, and I've nobody else to feed." - -"Boyd Westover, if you go on in that mood, I'll chuck you into the bath -tub again and set the shower going without giving you a chance to shed -your clothes. Can't you see that when you--when--well, when present -difficulties are over, this thing will give you an interest in life, -something to occupy your mind, something to manage and--oh, I forgot, -you don't know the facts yet. It appears from these papers--we won't -bother now to read them in detail--that the mining lands your father -bought in your name, have proved to be about the richest in the world. -They cover practically all of one of the richest deposits of gold, -silver, lead, and quicksilver, ever discovered. Listen. This is the way -Jake Greenfield puts it in a letter. Jake seems to be a shrewd Yankee -whom your lawyers have established on the lands to watch operations and -prevent trespass. He writes to the lawyers: - - -"'I don't s'pose Mr. Westover nor you neither's got a krect idee of -what he's got up here. It's like an injun's blanket, with fringes all -round it. He's got the blanket an' these fellers what's opened up mines -north an' south of him has got the fringes. Nachurly they's a tryin' to -git in under the blanket, but I'm a watchin' out an' they're a doin' no -trespassin'. They's got the fence corners an' Mr. Weststover's got the -field. They's plannin' to buy him out an' they's got experts an' -engineers an' lawyers enuff here to run a ship or an orphan asylum. My -say to Mr. West Stover is don't bargain with 'em till you know for -yourself. That used to be our way in Varmont, whare I come from. This -is my wink to a blind hoss, an' a nod with it.' - - -"The lawyers seem to have taken Jake Greenfield's counsel seriously, so -far at least as to send experts of their own to study the situation, -and these seem to confirm Jake's judgment. So do these other letters, -from the mining men who want to buy you out. I'll read them." - -"Can't you summarize them in your own words, Jack?" interrupted Boyd. -"The thing doesn't greatly interest me, and--" - -"Well, listen then, and perhaps I can awaken your interest. These -people it appears are amply backed by New York and Boston bankers. In -fact the bankers really constitute the company, and they seem to know -their own minds. They have spent some hundreds of thousands in setting -up machinery and all that sort of thing, and they say their mining -operations are paying heavy dividends--twenty-five or thirty per cent. -on their investment. But the richest leads or lodes or veins or -whatever they are called, lie beneath your land. You've got the blanket -and they only the fringe, as Jake picturesquely puts it. They want to -buy the blanket, or get in under it somehow, and they're prepared to -pay for what they want. They propose to organize a new company to work -the whole thing; they to put in their plant, their costly machinery, -their mining privileges and all their other assets, and you to put in -your mineral lands. They make you a flat offer of nine hundred thousand -dollars in money, and thirty-nine per cent. of the stock of the new -company, if you will join them in this project by ceding your lands, -mining rights, etc., to the joint concern. Perhaps they can be induced -to do better even than that, as they seem very eager, but that is what -they offer to begin with. It means fabulous wealth to you if their -hopes as to the profits of the new company are measurably fulfilled, -and even if they are not fulfilled at all it means that you can wear -Wanalah plantation as a watch charm for all your life to come. Isn't -that a fine prospect?" - -Jack was disappointed in Boyd's reply. He had hoped that this startling -happening might awaken his friend to a new interest in life and life's -affairs, but, after swallowing two oysters and slowly sipping half a -glass of ale, the unfortunate young man said, in a melancholy tone: - -"I suppose the thing ought to be looked into. If I were a free man -again, I'd make my way out into those wilds and see what could be done. -As it is--" - -"As it is," broke in Jack Towns, "you're going to execute a sweeping -power of attorney authorizing me to act for you, and I'm going out -there. When you--well, I mean later,--you'll take hold of the thing -yourself, and those hustling fellows out there will wake you up, if I -can't. Go to bed now, if you feel like it. I'll prepare the power of -attorney and you can execute it at breakfast time. I must say you're -uncommonly bad company." - -"I suppose I am," said Boyd as he shuffled off to his bedroom. - - - - -XI - -THE EVENTS OF A MORNING - - -It was with a firm step and with head erect, and, more significant -still, with eyes that looked straight into other eyes without a -suggestion of flinching, that Boyd Westover entered the court room on -the morning appointed for the pronouncement of sentence upon him. Jack -Towns, who accompanied him, thought he had never seen so superb an -exhibition of stoicism as that which Boyd had given throughout this -affair. - -"But this caps the climax," he said to the Commonwealth's Attorney, -whose drawn features showed clearly the distress he felt in view of the -duty he had to do in moving that sentence be pronounced upon his old -schoolmate, his boyhood's comrade, whom he had been compelled to -prosecute and convict of an infamous crime. - -"Just look at him," Jack whispered. "For all that his appearance or his -manner could mean you'd think he had come here to deliver an oration on -some distinguished occasion. It's simply magnificent!" - -"It is simply horrible--my part of it, I mean," answered the other with -a suppressed groan. - -There was no further time for conversation. The moment had come when -Boyd Westover must be called to the bar to receive the sentence of the -court. The Commonwealth's Attorney made the necessary motion in a voice -that could hardly be heard because of his lack of control over his -organs of speech. The Judge tried hard to deliver the little address he -had carefully prepared as a means of suggesting what he could not -say--that in spite of everything he could not personally regard Boyd -Westover as a man actually guilty of crime. His voice behaved so badly -that after a futile attempt he gave up the effort to say anything, -except the formal words that condemned the prisoner to serve a term at -hard labor in the State prison. - -The term fixed by the sentence was the shortest that the law allowed, -but what comfort was there in that to a sensitive man like Boyd -Westover, to whom disgrace for half a minute meant the same thing as -disgrace for all time? It is doubtful that he even grasped the meaning -of the words used in limiting the sentence to the briefest time allowed. - -As there were papers to be made out and signed, Jack Towns and his -client sat for a brief while waiting. Presently there was a little -commotion in the outer corridor and a moment later a bailiff hurriedly -entered and made his way to the Commonwealth's Attorney, to whom he -whispered excitedly. That officer asked a brief question or two under -his breath. Then he turned to the court and said, while all listened -with the greatest interest: - -"If your honor please, something has happened--something out of the -ordinary, something important, something which if I am correctly -informed vitally concerns business now before the court. I ask to be -excused for a few minutes in order that I may learn the facts and -report them to the court." - -With that, receiving a nod of approval from the Judge, he withdrew. - -When he had gone the Judge said: - -"We may as well save what we can of the time of waiting. Mr. Clerk, if -you have the papers ready in the Westover case I'll sign them." - -They were passed to him and, after he had signed them, handed over to -the sheriff, thus completing that matter at once. - -A moment later, the Commonwealth's Attorney returned, pale to the lips, -trembling like one in an ague fit, and with the muscles about his mouth -twitching in a way that was positively painful to all who looked at him. - -In a voice that was hard, metallic, and obviously controlled only by a -supreme effort of the will, he addressed the court. - -"There has been a terrible mistake made," he said with none of the -formalities of speech usual in addressing a tribunal,--"a disastrous, -cruel, irreparable mistake, for my share in which I hide my head in -shame as I ask God and man to pardon me. In convicting and sentencing -Boyd Westover, we have convicted and sentenced an innocent man. The -real culprit is now in a jury room adjoining this apartment. He has -been caught in a repetition of the act for which Boyd Westover has been -convicted and sentenced. He has confessed that he was the offender on -the former occasion, and the committing magistrate before whom he was -brought this morning has brought him hither to repeat his confession -and to let your honor look upon him. It is the most phenomenal case of -mistaken identity I ever knew or heard of. Even fiction, with its -limitless license of invention, offers no parallel that I ever heard -of. The resemblance between this man and Boyd Westover is so perfect, -so startling in its completeness that I could never have believed it -upon any testimony other than that of my own eyes. I ask permission to -bring the prisoner into court." - -By this time the court room was packed with all sorts and conditions of -men, for the news of what had happened during the night before had -spread like wildfire over the city. - -A minute later the prisoner, who gave his name as "Dolly Andrews," but -admitted that "Dolly" was short for Adolphus, was brought to the bar. -At the Commonwealth's Attorney's request, Boyd Westover moved forward -and stood by his side. - -The two men were precisely alike in size, form and feature, but -strangely unlike in expression. As Jack Towns put the matter: "Boyd -Westover, being a gentleman, looks into your eyes when he speaks to you -or you to him; the other fellow looks anywhere but at you. In the one -face there is intelligence,--in the other a low cunning; in the one an -alert outlook, in the other a look of morbid introspection. Still the -two men are absolutely alike in all physical respects--more alike than -I supposed that even twins could be. I could myself easily mistake one -for the other, and I don't wonder that a lot of excited school girls, -routed out of bed in the middle of the night and with only bedroom -candles to see by, made the terrible mistake they did." - -The problem now was what to do. Fortunately the committing magistrate -was a man of wise discretion. He presented himself in court and said to -the Judge: - -"I have not yet committed this man, though he was caught in the act and -has made full confession, both as to his present offence and as to the -former crime, of which another has been mistakenly convicted. I have -thought it better to bring him before your honor and ask you to sit as -committing magistrate in the case, in order that you may yourself hear -his confession. It has seemed to me that this course was best in aid of -justice in another case." - -After an exchange of dignified compliments, the Judge, sitting as a -committing magistrate, heard the case. During the preceding night there -had been an alarm of "burglars" in Le Voiser's school. As before, the -matron marshalled her charges for retreat, but this time there were two -stalwart men on the premises and awaiting call. Monsieur Le Voiser had -looked out for that, by ordering his furnace man and his steward to -sleep in a room within convenient call, and when the intruder attempted -to escape they were there to seize and hold him by physical force. - -They testified to the facts. - -Then the culprit repeated the confession he had already made. He seemed -in no way ashamed, and he did not hesitate. He declared that it was he, -and not Boyd Westover, who had invaded the school on the former -occasion, and when asked what his motive was, he disclaimed all -purposes of robbery and sought to justify himself by the solemn -declaration: - -"On both occasions I went there under the command of the Supreme Being." - -"Just what do you mean by that?" asked the Judge, testily. - -"I am divinely commissioned to marry Miss--" - -"Stop!" commanded the Judge. "Don't mention the young lady's name. Just -say 'a certain young lady.' We won't have her name dragged into the -case." - -"Very well," said the culprit. "It is only that I am acting under a -divine commission and have nothing to conceal. I must marry the young -lady in question. I met her in the street once, and talked to her on -the subject. She mistook me for Boyd Westover, and I thought it best to -use that name in my dealings with her. You see, Judge, when one is -divinely commissioned to achieve a purpose, details make no difference." - -"Go on," said the Judge; "omit explanations and arguments, and tell -what happened." - -"The young lady rejected my addresses. I was not discouraged by that. I -had been divinely warned to expect it. I wrote her many notes, but she -did not reply to them. Then I saw my duty clearly. I decided to use -gentle force and carry her away with me, leaving the divine influence -to chasten her proud spirit and teach her the duty of loving me. I have -been twice defeated in my endeavors. I shall succeed when the appointed -time is ripe. I must be patient and faithful, that is all." - -"After all," whispered Jack Towns to the Commonwealth's Attorney, "that -hysterical girl who said he had come to abduct her was right, except in -her identification of the man." - -"Yes, but the exception is one of disastrous consequences. Help me, -Towns, to right this wrong! I'll never do the like again. I'll never -prosecute another case so long as I live. I've already sent in my -resignation from office." - -"You're a sublimated idiot," said Jack. "Listen. The Judge is speaking." - -"I will commit this man to await the action of the Grand Jury," the -Judge said. "In the meanwhile the Court suggests to the Commonwealth's -Attorney the propriety of asking for a commission in lunacy to inquire -into this man's sanity." - -Thus spurred out of the lethargic collapse into which he had fallen, -the official prosecutor made the necessary motion and the court -promptly appointed the commission. - -Then Jack Towns arose to ask: - -"What is to be done to right the wrong in the case of my client? And -more especially, what is to be done to prevent the aggravation of that -wrong? I call attention to the fact that the papers committing this -obviously innocent man to the penitentiary are already in the hands of -the sheriff, who has no right to exercise discretion in the case. In -the ordinary course of events my client, innocent of offence as he -obviously is, must pass the portals of the prison within the hour. I -ask the court to prevent this crowning wrong in a case in which enough -and too much of wrong has been done already." - -The Judge was in full sympathy, but for order's sake he asked if the -Commonwealth's Attorney desired to be heard in opposition to the -request of the counsel. - -"Not in opposition," said the official, "but in full and hearty -sympathy. I feel that a great wrong has been done; I feel this so -strongly that I have sent to the proper authority my resignation of the -office I hold, in order that I may never again have part or lot in a -wrong so grievous. I earnestly second the request of the counsel for -the prisoner that everything shall be done which the law permits, to -prevent further wrong and to right the wrong already done." - -"Very well," said the Judge. "The sheriff is ordered to return to the -clerk the papers in his possession. The prisoner is paroled in the -custody of his counsel, to await further proceedings. Unfortunately the -court knows of no process of law by which the fact of this innocent -man's conviction and sentence can be undone. It is not within the power -of man to make that not to be which has been. The court cannot undo the -proceedings that have been had in this case. It can only make an -earnest effort to prevent the wrongful results of those proceedings. To -that end I purpose to go in person before the Governor of the State to -ask for the fullest reparation that can be made, namely, a -pardon--pardon for a crime that has not been committed. It seems almost -a mockery, but it is the best that is possible under the law. In order -to give all the emphasis I can to the proceedings, I shall adjourn -court for a time, and ask the Commonwealth's Attorney to accompany me -on this mission of justice. Further than that, I direct him to summon -the members of the jury that convicted Boyd Westover of a crime of -which he is not guilty, to go with us before the Governor and join us -in our request. So far as the securing of a pardon is concerned, no -effort of this kind is necessary; but the court deems it proper in this -case to make this united appeal of judge, jury, and prosecutor by way -of emphasizing our recognition of the injustice done. The court stands -adjourned until four o'clock this afternoon, at which hour Mr. Boyd -Westover"--the Judge no longer spoke of him as "the prisoner"--"will -present himself here and the court will itself deliver to him--as it is -fitting that the court should do in such a case--the papers relieving -him, so far as it is possible now to relieve him, of all the -consequences of a clearly erroneous accusation and conviction." - -When the Judge ceased speaking, Boyd Westover made a profound bow to -him, saying simply: "I thank you." Then turning to Towns he said: - -"Come, Jack! I'm faint and hungry. Let's go to Tom Griffin's and get -something to eat." - -Tom Griffin's was a place well known in the Richmond of that old time. -Tom himself was a negro slave who enjoyed vastly more liberty than any -free man of color ever did in Virginia. Every gentleman in Richmond was -his personal friend; so was every aristocratic planter east of the Blue -Ridge. Any one of them would have drawn his check in payment for Tom's -liberty, if Tom had desired to be free. But Tom Griffin wanted nothing -of the kind. He was happy and he knew when he was well off. If his -freedom had been bought, he must, under the law, have left his native -state, whose people were his friends and whose associations meant to -him all that life could mean. - -He knew all there was to know of catering and of cookery. Better still, -as he phrased it, he "instincted just how to make things good to eat." -He had genius, in short, and the fact was recognized and celebrated by -every man in Virginia who had a palate and the price--and who enjoyed -Tom Griffin's favor. For Tom Griffin's place was no ordinary -restaurant. Men of the common herd were not welcomed there. Only those -whom he recognized as his friends--and his friendships were rigidly -restricted to the aristocratic class--were privileged to sit at Tom's -polished old mahogany table, and enjoy sora, or canvas backs or -terrapin in perfection. Only such were served with his glorified chine -and spare-ribs, his roast turkey or his forequarters of spring lamb. -And those who were so privileged could never be persuaded to believe -that anybody else in all the world could even by accident serve any -viand in such perfection as that in which every viand came from Tom -Griffin's expert hands. - -Tom probably knew who his master was, but nobody else ever asked. Tom -probably paid his master a liberal compensation for his time; he could -well afford to do so. For Tom Griffin was rich--so rich that many a -young Virginian whose frequent rash expenditures threatened to involve -him in argument with his father, found relief in a loan from Tom -Griffin's hand, concerning which no papers were passed. These loans -were certain to be repaid. They were debts of honor, seeing that as a -suitor Tom Griffin--a negro slave--would have had no standing in court. - -Tom Griffin had waiters in adequate force, but he never permitted them -to serve a gentleman without his personal superintendence. If a -gentleman wanted a glass of water during his meal--as even Virginia -gentlemen sometimes did--Tom regarded his waiter as a person competent -to serve it. The waiter could clear away the used crockery, too, and -see to it that lighted wax candles were in place for cigar-lighting -purposes. There were other minor offices that Tom permitted to his -waiters. But when it came to serving a dish, Tom took the function upon -himself. - -"You see," he once explained, "the boys is so stupid. If I've laid -myself out to have a dish just right, I ain't a goin' to spile all my -work by lettin' a clumsy nigger slap-bang it on the table, like as if -he was a sellin' fish in the market." - -In accordance with his custom, therefore, Tom personally served a -dinner that Boyd Westover had not ordered. There were soft crabs to -begin with. There was a whole fore-quarter of genuine spring lamb for -Boyd to carve at will. There were the earliest peas of the season, -secured by Tom Griffin's "System," which consisted in letting all the -market gardeners know that he paid higher prices than anybody else for -the first and best of every garden's product, and, more important -still, that any gardener failing to give him first choice would be cut -off his list, a proscription too serious to be faced with composure. -There were the first tomatoes of the season, too, and there was -everything else that was possible, including a _meringe a la créme_, -black coffee and cigars at the end. - -Boyd Westover had ordered nothing of the sort, but Tom Griffin served -it all quite as if he had done so, and when it came upon the table Tom -busied himself and a corkscrew in opening a dusty, cobwebbed bottle of -antique Madeira, saying as he did so: - -"Dis is Ann Maria wine, Mas' Boyd, an' dere ain't much of it left in -Old Virginia, I reckon. Will you 'scuse me ef I say I ain't paid no -attention to your order in gittin' your dinner ready, an' I ain't asked -what sort o' wine you wanted? De explanation is dat Tom Griffin is a -furnishin' this here dinner an' this here Ann Maria Madeira, as his -contribution to de joyful occasion. Gentlemen, I trust your appetites -is good." - -With that Tom withdrew too hastily for protest or remonstrance. As he -went he snatched a napkin from a vacant table, with which to dry his -dusky cheeks of the tears that were streaming down them in spite of all -his efforts at self-control. - -Tom had learned from his customers to speak fairly correct English, and -his lapse into the negro dialect of his boyhood on this occasion was -the "outward and visible sign of the inward" emotional disturbance that -Boyd Westover's experience had wrought in his all-affectionate soul. - - - - -XII - -AFTER THE STORM - - -Hungry as Boyd Westover had declared himself to be, and tempting as was -the dinner that Tom Griffin served, the young man ate with scant -appetite, and when the meal was over his friend was anxiously worried. - -"See here, Boyd!" he said. "In view of all the circumstances you ought -to be the jolliest fellow in Richmond to-day. You've borne up -astonishingly during the real stress of this affair. Why should you -flunk now that it's all over and you're a victor?" - -"I'm not flunking. I'll never flunk, but stoicism costs," answered -Westover. - -"Just how do you mean?" - -"I mean that my determination to bear a bold and unflinching front as -it becomes a Westover to do when the penitentiary doors were yawning -for me, with lifelong disgrace as my portion, has taken more out of me -than you can easily believe. To a man raised in our traditions, the -prospect of disgrace and shame is a fearful thing to face. A score of -agonizing deaths by torture would have been to me as nothing in -comparison with what I have suffered in contemplation of this horror. I -have faced the thing as bravely as I could. That much I owed to my -name, my caste, my lineage--call it what you will. But my bank account -of endurance is running low now. My drafts upon it have been heavy -and--well, there have been no deposits to strengthen it." - -He was thinking bitterly of Margaret Conway's defection. - -"Don't let us talk of that. I'm as nearly on the verge of collapse as a -healthy man can be, that's all." - -"But you are vindicated, and when your pardon comes this afternoon--" - -"Pardon? Yes. For a crime I did not commit. Think of it, Jack. From -this hour forth I shall be a man accused, convicted and sentenced for a -crime of infamous character, and graciously pardoned for it. It -couldn't be worse--except to my own soul--if I were guilty. The pardon -undoes nothing but the punishment. It doesn't wipe out the stain. It -doesn't--oh, well, you understand. I am free, but my life is ruined. If -I were called as a witness in court, the opposing attorney would be -free to ask me if I had not been convicted of a felony and sentenced, -and I should have to answer yes. Then he could forbid me to explain. -The thing is horrible. The law as it stands is infamously unjust. Why -should I be a pardoned criminal when I have committed no crime? Why -should not the court that convicted me and sentenced me under a mistake -have power to undo the wrong by another trial or procedure of some -kind? Why should I not be acquitted of a false accusation instead of -being 'pardoned' for an offence never committed? No, don't bother to -answer. I know the answer already. Such cases are too rare for the law -to have provided for them, though it is the law's boast that there is -no wrong for which it doesn't provide a remedy. However, let's talk of -something else. I'm going off for rest. I suppose this Rocky Mountain -matter ought to be looked after. Will you go out there as my -representative, under your blanket power of attorney, and do whatever -you think best about it? There seems to be money enough in it to pay -you all you want in the way of fees, according to your representation." - -"I'll go, of course. But I wish you would go instead, or go with me. It -would divert your mind, and, believe me, Boyd, you need such diversion -more than anything else. Why can't you go?" - -"Because I must rest, and because--well, because of many things. Never -mind. I'm not going and you are. I'm going a fishing. Draw up all the -necessary papers and I'll execute them. Can you get them ready -to-night? I want to go away to-morrow morning and forget." - -"Where will you go? To Wanalah?" - -"No; except for brief preparations. To the mountains. You know I own -three or four high mountain tops up in the Blue Ridge, with the swales, -called valleys, that lie between. The land is worthless, but the woods -up there are full of game and the brooks alive with trout. My -grandfather bought the vast tract as an indulgence and my father kept -it with a like purpose. There's a shack of some sort up there I -believe. If not, I can build one in a half day, and it will interest me -to chink and daub it." - -Jack Towns sat silent for a time. Then he said: - -"I heartily disapprove of your plan. It means solitude, and you need -association with men to cure you of morbid and unwholesome feelings." - -"But I can associate with men only upon sufferance. You've heard of the -person who said: 'The more I see of men, the better I like dogs.' I'm -not quite of his mind, but anyhow I'm going up into the high mountains -with my dogs, my guns and my fishing tackle. So get all the papers -ready, Jack, and let me get away as soon as possible." - -Again, Jack Towns sat silent and troubled. After awhile he said: - -"Of course you'll go to my house to-night and be my guest so long as -you remain in Richmond?" - -"Thank you, I will if you'll see to it that no visitors get at me. I -want to go to sleep as soon as this thing's over and I'd like to stay -asleep forever." - -"You're all wrong, but of course as a guest in my house you'll be -protected from everything that is reasonably or unreasonably -disagreeable to you. But really, Boyd, the people who are sure to call -to-night--" - -"Yes, I know. They will call to offer congratulations which are in fact -commiserations and condolences. I don't care to attend my own funeral -in the capacity of chief mourner, just yet. I shouldn't mind the -funeral, with myself for the corpse, but I'm not prepared to play the -part of chief mourner." - -"You're morbid, Boyd." - -"Perhaps so, but I'm going to become healthy again. Now listen. I'm -going off into the mountains to match my wits with those of the wiliest -trout, the shyest deer, the most experienced wild turkey gobblers, and -now and then perhaps to try conclusions with a sly old bear. By the -time I return to civilization, I'll have decided upon my career. I'm -going to do something--I don't know what. But by that time I'll know." - -"Good! That's the way to look at things. After all, the strain your -stoicism has put upon you hasn't robbed you of your robust manhood, and -that is what I feared." - -"My dear Jack, I couldn't lose that and go on living. It is only that I -must have a little time in which to pull myself together and see what I -can do. If your mission to the Rocky Mountains proves that those -fellows out there are right, and that a great wealth is ready to my -hand, I may turn philanthropist, or I may enter upon great business -undertakings which by their employment of multitudes of men at good -wages are perhaps the most philanthropic of all endeavors. I don't -know. I can't think till I sleep and rest. At any rate while I am -recovering tone up in the high mountains of the Blue Ridge, you will -find out what monetary tools I have to work with. Theology teaches us -that the primal curse was a condemnation to work. It was the primal -blessing instead. That's an aside. I have good friends up in the -mountains, chief among whom is Judy Peters." - -"The Queen of the mountains? I've heard of her. She's an erratic -political factor with whom every candidate must reckon, I'm told." - -"She's all that. She controls the mountain vote in her district as -absolutely as the Superintendent of the Penitentiary was to have -controlled me--" - -"Now, my dear Boyd, I beg you to put aside that sort of brooding. It's -morbid, it's hurtful to your character, it's--" - -"Yes, I know. But I'm not pardoned yet, you know, and naturally--never -mind. I was speaking of Judy. She doesn't abuse her political power. In -many elections she doesn't use it at all. She says to her subjects: 'I -ain't choosed 'twixt them two candidates. Choose for yourselves.' But -when she does choose and intimates her choice the men of the mountain -all vote her way, and their vote makes an end of all uncertainty as to -the result of that election. But it isn't only in politics that she -rules. A Baptist preacher went up that way once and became pastor of a -church. For a while he 'cut a wide swath,' as Judy said. But he made -the mistake of offending her majesty by some indiscreet criticism of -her. She manifested no displeasure, but on the next Sunday and the next -he found a meeting house full of empty benches to preach to. Then he -quit, as Judy afterwards explained, 'because his usefulness was at its -end.' It's the same way with everything else. Ordinarily she does not -interfere, but when she does her interference is instantly effective. -It's a common saying up there that 'ef you want to stay in the -mountings comfortable like, you don't want to git yourself into Judy -Peters's bad books.'" - -"On what does her extraordinary influence rest?" - -"It would be hard to say. Partly I should say upon her extraordinary -sagacity, especially in her judgment of men and her penetration of -their motives. My father used to say she had second sight of the -Scottish sort. It is certain that no man ever deceives her for long, no -false pretense ever endures her scrutiny, and she never falters in her -judgments. She is as relentless as Fate itself and as merciless in her -dealings with what she adjudges to be wrong. As she doesn't know what -fear means, she is equally resolute in her active support of all causes -that enlist her sympathy. She is ignorant, as we reckon such things, -but her sagacity is well nigh supernatural, and she keeps herself -informed on all matters that interest her, with an accuracy that a -detective bureau might envy. She is kindly, but not courteous. She -hates shams with an elemental intensity. If you are a guest in her -house she fulfils every obligation of hospitality, but she tells you no -lies either in word or deed. She will lay herself out to serve you with -sublime fried chicken and glorified waffles, but if she catches you in -a falsehood she'll tell you you are a liar even while she presses the -apple butter or the maple syrup upon your acceptance. In brief, Judy -Peters is altogether a natural human being, whose elemental passions -have never been curbed by convention, whose courage is of the kind that -never shrinks from the recognition of truth or from its telling in -plain words. If she likes you she will say so. If she dislikes you she -will tell you the fact in equally plain words. If she is in doubt about -you, she will tell you she 'ain't choosed yit' as to you. That's Judy. -Still my description utterly lacks something, I don't know -what--personality perhaps. You must know Judy personally if you would -understand her. Her malignity, in cases that seem to her to call for -it, is well nigh beyond conception in its devilish ingenuity and -persistence; her loyalty, on the other hand, stops at nothing that may -serve its fortunate beneficiary. She was my father's friend, in her odd -way, and she is mine. My father once rendered her a service; I don't -know what it was, and she won't tell me. He always said it was a trifle -of no consequence; she always answers my inquiries about it by saying: - -"''Tain't none o' your business, Boyd, what he done for me, but ef I -could 'a' turned these here mountings upside down an' he'd 'a' give the -word as how he wanted it done, over the mountings would 'a' gone, you -kin bet your bottom dollar on that proposition.' - -"She is my friend on my father's account and nothing can change that. -If I should try to deceive her she'd denounce me to my face as a liar, -but she'd make the mountains too hot to hold anybody else who should -suggest such a thing, and she'd go on doing her mightiest in my -interest, in spite of my fault. In her way she is a wholesome sort of -person for me to meet just now, and I'm going to spend a few days with -her, just for the bracing up she'll give me. After that I'll go on up -into the high mountains." - -So ended the dinner and the conversation. Next morning Westover set out -for Wanalah, where he intended to spend a few days giving necessary -directions and equipping himself with supplies for his sojourn in the -mountains. These consisted of books, mainly, with a bag of corn meal, a -ham or two, a few sides of bacon, guns, ammunition, fishing tackle and -rough clothing, all of which were loaded into an ox cart, which a negro -boy was to drive in leisurely fashion to Judy Peters's. Beyond that, in -the climb up the mountainside, oxen would be of less use than bother, -and Westover depended upon the long legs and strong arms of -mountaineers to manage the further transportation. - - - - -XIII - -"AUNT BETSY" TAKES THE HELM - - -It would have been a dangerous thing for any man to accuse Colonel -Conway of cowardice. Personal courage was his in full measure. Three -times during the Mexican war he had been promoted--rising from -lieutenant to colonel--and each time in special recognition of -"conspicuous gallantry in action." He was afraid of no man and no -company of men. He did and dared throughout his life with absolute -disregard of danger. - -But Colonel Conway was mightily afraid of his sister Betsy, as his -daughter had said. Why, he could not have told, but the fact remained -that he was afraid of that elderly little woman, encased as she was in -an armor of conventionalities, gentle but resolute, and mercilessly -insistent upon what she decreed to be "proper" conduct. - -When the negro boy who daily brought the letter bag from the post -office to The Oaks reported that Mr. Boyd Westover had come up from -Richmond and was to stay only for a day or two at Wanalah, Colonel -Conway promptly announced his purpose to ride over and congratulate -him. The family were at the breakfast table at the time and the Colonel -observed that his daughter paled at the mention of his purpose, though -she said nothing in reply to his declaration. His sister, "Aunt Betsy," -also said nothing. It was her habit to say nothing till the time was -ripe. - -Immediately after breakfast Margaret sought speech with her father. - -"You are right, father, and what you purpose is the part of an -honorable man. You ought to go to Boyd and take his hand, and make him -feel that men of your kind and his kind understand. But--" She paused -uncertainly. - -"'But' what, daughter?" asked the Colonel, eagerly scanning her face. - -"Nothing. I was only going to say that perhaps it will be just as well -not to mention me--unless he does so first." - -There was that in her hesitating utterance which awakened the Colonel's -attention and curiosity. - -"But why not, Margaret?" he questioned. "Surely it is about you he will -be most eager to hear." - -"If so he will ask. If he doesn't, I beg of you--" - -"Why, surely you've heard from him frequently during this trouble--and -you've written to him?" - -"I've written to him, yes." - -"And he has written to you, of course?" - -The girl stood silent, while she plucked honeysuckles from the vines -that shrouded the porch in which they stood, and nervously pulled them -to pieces. - -"Answer me, child," the Colonel said in a tone of command. "Hasn't Boyd -Westover written to you during all this trouble?" - -"I have received no letter from him," she answered hesitatingly. - -"Do you mean that he hasn't written to you of his arrest, trial and all -the rest of it, of his vindication and--" - -"I have had no letter from him," she repeated. - -"Hasn't he even offered you a release from your engagement?" - -"I have had no letter from him," she said again, but this time she lost -her self control and blurted out the thought that had troubled her for -many days. - -"Oh Father," she said, seizing his arm as if to detain him, "there has -been some cruel mistake, some miscarriage, something, I don't know -what. I only know that Boyd Westover is a gentleman and would never -have neglected such a duty." - -"As he _has_ neglected it, he is unworthy of a gentleman's recognition, -Margaret. I shall not go near him." - -"You are judging him unheard," she promptly and passionately answered; -"and oh, Father, that isn't like you, because it is unworthy, and -nothing unworthy or unjust is like you. I beg of you, give him a -chance. You need do nothing but make a call. The explanation will -follow--if there is an explanation. If there isn't--well, we shall -know." - -"I'll go, daughter, of course. It is my duty. But I'll force the -explanation. I have a right to ask him why, being engaged to marry my -daughter, he has sent her no release, in view of the circumstances. -That will bring out all there is to say on the subject." - -At that point in their conversation the father and daughter were -interrupted by the advent of "Aunt Betsy," who passed from the house -into the porch quite casually, and said to Margaret: - -"When you have leisure, dear, you'd better see Janet. She has come to -say that Diana is much worse this morning and that the doctor, who was -in a hurry, left some important written directions out at the quarters." - -Quick to respond to duty, especially where the sick of the plantation -were concerned, Margaret was in the saddle a minute later and galloping -toward the "quarters," as the negro village was called in plantation -nomenclature. - -No sooner had her sorrel palfry's white tail flashed its signal of -departure through the outer grove, than "Aunt Betsy" turned to her -brother, saying: - -"Of course you forgot yourself, brother, when you impulsively declared -your purpose to visit Mr. Boyd Westover to-day. The one serious fault -in your nature is impulsiveness. You are too chivalric, too trusting, -too confident of others, too apt to think of them as men like yourself." - -"What is it you want to say, Betsy?" asked the Colonel as he sank -limply into one of the porch chairs. - -"Only that upon reflection you must see that it won't do for you to -call upon Mr. Westover." - -"But why not?" - -"There are a dozen reasons. He's a man under a cloud you know. He has -been regularly convicted of a crime, and sentenced for it, and--" - -"But he has been fully vindicated and pardoned," interrupted the -Colonel. - -"Yes, of course. Fully vindicated by the confession of a demented man -who may or may not know what he is saying. It may be--well, anything -may be, you know, and opinions in this community are likely to be -divided as to the matter of Mr. Boyd Westover's guilt. So long as that -remains unsettled the Master of The Oaks cannot afford to take sides by -visiting Wanalah." - -"You mean that I, Colonel Robert Conway, of The Oaks, am not free to do -as I damn please just because a lot of pestilent old gossips think to -say me nay?" - -"You misunderstand me, Robert, and you grieve me to the heart by the -violence of your language." - -"Did I swear? If so I beg pardon, but sometimes oaths will slip out. -It's a bad habit I acquired in the army." - -"You utterly fail to understand me," said "Aunt Betsy." "I am not -concerned about myself or you, or the family name, though that is -dearer to me than all else in the world. I'm concerned for Margaret. -You are a man, of course, but even a man ought to see that for -Margaret's father to visit Westover of Wanalah, under existing -circumstances, would be everywhere interpreted as throwing Margaret at -his head, challenging him to fulfil his engagement with her. In brief -it would be almost the equivalent of that vulgar impossibility in -Virginia, a breach of promise suit." - -"Aunt Betsy" saw in Colonel Conway's face that she had carried her -point, and she did not imperil the result by further speech. She -suddenly applied her handkerchief to her eyes instead, and hastily -retreated to her room, confident that on that day at least her brother -would not ride over to Wanalah. - - - - -XIV - -WESTOVER AT WANALAH - - -But if Colonel Conway did not visit Westover during his brief stay at -Wanalah, some others did. In the main they were elderly men of his own -social class, whose purpose was sincere to express their pleasure in -his escape from an embarrassing perplexity. But their very sincerity -proved to be the undoing of their purpose. They hardly knew how to -approach the subject of his trouble without offence and yet it seemed -necessary to speak of it. It isn't easy to tell a man of high place in -the world that you are pleased with his accidental escape from a term -of penal servitude in the penitentiary. As a result of this -embarrassment the congratulations of these gentlemen, which were meant -to be cordial, seemed to Westover to be coldly commiserative instead. -Meant to be comradely, they seemed to him condescending almost to the -point of offensiveness. To make matters worse, Westover's visitors were -as sorely embarrassed as he was, and by way of escape, every one of -them, upon one pretext or another, declined his invitation to stay to -dinner which, under ordinary circumstances, every one of them would -have accepted quite as a matter of course. To him this suggested -avoidance of intimacy. - -Perhaps all this was emphasized to his mind by his experience with the -earliest of his visitors on that day. This was William Wilberforce -Webb, a young lawyer who as representative of the county in the House -of Delegates--the legislature of Virginia--regarded himself as "a -rising young statesman, in the direct line of promotion." - -Mr. Webb was not a man in Westover's class, and in visiting Wanalah at -all he was guilty of something approaching presumption, under the rules -of the social régime of that time and country. Still, as the -representative of the county in the legislature, he had a right perhaps -to regard himself as privileged to that extent. - -However that might be, Westover welcomed him cordially as the first of -his neighbors to call. He extended the customary hospitalities of the -house, which the other accepted. Then the two fell into conversation -upon general topics, drifting into more personal themes by natural -processes. Lacking the tact that comes of good breeding, the voluble -and self appreciative lawyer presently sought to exalt his own -condescension in promptly calling upon Westover. - -"You see I have no hidebound prejudices, Westover, and in my position, -as the representative of the people, the promptitude of my visit may -encourage others to recognize you, in spite of what has happened." - -Pale to the lips with passion, Westover rose as the man spoke, moved to -the edge of the porch in which they had been sitting, and, calling to a -negro boy, said: - -"Bring this gentleman's horse to the door at once; do you hear? He has -imperative business elsewhere than at Wanalah." - -There was no mistaking the meaning of this, and Webb was quick to -comprehend it. Rising angrily he asked: - -"What do you mean, sir?" - -"You heard my instruction to the boy," answered Westover in an even, -unexcited voice. "You can infer my meaning from that. By the way, the -boy has obeyed promptly and your horse is waiting for you." - -The man was unaccustomed to such deliberation and self control in the -speech of an angry person, but he sought to imitate it as he had sought -before to copy the manners of those whose social position he envied. He -suppressed the impulse of intemperate speech and, assuming the dignity -that he thought belonged to him in right of his "position," said: - -"You will hear from me, promptly, Mr. Westover." - -"At your pleasure, sir," answered Westover. "I shall remain at Wanalah -for four days, after to-day. After that I shall be absent for a time, -but should your message to me be delayed so long, which I can hardly -conceive to be possible, you can communicate with me later through my -overseer, with whom I shall leave an address to be used only in -emergencies. Should you leave any message with him he will have -instructions to forward it to me by a special courier who will lose no -time in its delivery." - -This was a crowning affront to a man of Webb's extraction, and perhaps -Westover meant it to be such. The overseer class in Virginia was the -most inferior of all, and the very suggestion of one gentleman that he -would communicate with another through his overseer would have implied -insult. If Westover had been speaking to one whom he regarded as an -equal he would have said: - -"My address for a time will be uncertain, but my overseer will have it -and I'll instruct him to keep my lawyer informed of it from time to -time." - -To make matters worse, it was the bitterest drop of gall in Webb's cup -that he was himself descended from a race of overseers. His father, -indeed, had never served in that capacity, for the reason that the -grandfather had left him enough money to buy a little plantation of his -own and struggle for recognition as a member of the planter class. But -Webb had learned by experience that there was vitality in the Virginian -dogma that "it takes three generations to make a gentleman." - -The suggestion, therefore, that he might, if necessary, communicate -with Westover through the Wanalah overseer, was peculiarly offensive to -Webb. Whether Westover had intended it to be so or not, there is no -means of finding out. He was angry enough to intend anything. - -But this encounter spoiled Westover's capacity to enjoy the visits of -his later coming friends. It set his sensitiveness on edge, as it were, -and prompted his mind to misinterpretation, so that when he was left to -dine alone at Wanalah that day the very spaciousness of the dining room -seemed to mock his solitude, while the polished furniture that had -witnessed so much of joyous festivity in that great banquet hall seemed -to have put on mourning for its master. - -About sunset, however, relief came to Westover's spirit in the person -of Dr. Carley Farnsworth. His real name was Don Carlos Farnsworth, and -he was a physician, but to Westover as to every other friend he had -ever had, he was known as "Carley." Carley was in many ways peculiar. -He was cynical at times and always disposed to take a whimsical view of -things. His sense of humor was alert and keen, though he never in his -life made a joke and very rarely laughed. His most whimsical -interpretations of events and situations were delivered in solemn, -philosophical fervor, and with a seriousness that well nigh undid the -humor of them. - -He arrived at Wanalah about sunset, and greeted his old friend -cordially, and quite as if his visit had been an ordinary one with no -"circumstances" of any kind behind it. Carley Farnsworth was a -gentleman, that was all. He had tact and _nous_, and above all a -sympathy so abounding that trespass upon another's sensibilities was -impossible to him. Even in examining patients, it was said of him that -he asked all his questions in a way that made them seem a matter of -course. - -After the first greetings were over he said: - -"I've been rather impatiently waiting for your return to Wanalah, Boyd, -because I've been wanting to floor you with half a dozen authorities -that agree with me as to the construction of _ut_ with the subjunctive -in that passage we came so near fighting about. I've devoted all my -time lately to the task of accumulating ammunition and after supper I'm -going to blow you clear out of the arena. But supper first, of course. -I'm a hungry hygienist and I know the flavor of the Wanalah hams. By -the way, you and I are alone; why shouldn't we be dissolute? If you'll -tell your cook to serve us some roasted black-eyed peas, such as you -and I ate here a year ago,--roasted in the pod you know, and served -with the hot ashes on them,--I'll promise to be happy for a whole year -to come. Of course there'll be broiled tomatoes as an adjunct to the -cold ham, and paper thin wafer biscuit to keep our digestions in order, -and after supper we'll discuss '_ut_ with the subjunctive' as far into -the night as you please." - -"Thank you," said Westover, smiling for the first time that day. "I'm -ready for the contest, though really I don't think either of us is -Latin scholar enough to be entitled to 'views' on the subject." - -"There you annoyingly agree with the authorities," answered Dr. -Farnsworth. "You see I wrote to Professor Anthon on the subject, -submitting my contentions, and he replied most courteously, suggesting -that if I would supplement my obviously rudimentary Latin studies with -a more considerable reading of Latin texts,--he mentioned fifteen -hundred or so that he thought I might profitably run through in my -leisure moments,--I would gain some slight insight into the grammatical -problem I had undertaken to settle out of my own inner consciousness -and Bullion's Latin Grammar. The thing put me on my mettle, so I wrote -to our own University professor, Dr. Gessner Harrison. What do you -think? He replied: 'My dear Dr. Farnsworth: You're a sublimated idiot -and a good many different kinds of a donkey.' Those weren't his exact -words, you understand, but the paraphrase fairly interprets the spirit -of his reply. However, we'll leave all that till after supper." - -So he chattered on, after his habit, and he succeeded not only in -preventing talk of depressing things, but in amusing his host so far as -to awaken something like jollity in him. - -But an occurrence during supper threatened to spoil all. A missive -arrived from Webb, borne not by a friend commissioned to "act for him," -but by a negro servant. - -Westover tore the envelope open and read the few lines written upon the -sheet within. They ran as follows: - -"Mr. Webb intimated to Mr. Westover today that he would presently send -him a hostile note. Upon reflection Mr. Webb has decided that he cannot -afford to send anything of the kind. It seems to him and to such -friends as he has had time to consult that recent events affecting Mr. -Westover's status in society--events which need not be specified in -detail--have rendered it unnecessary and unbecoming for any gentleman -to pay attention to anything that Mr. Westover may say or do." - -Having read the insolent message with no sign of anger that would have -been observed by anybody, Westover turned to his dining-room servant -and said, quite indifferently: - -"Send the boy who brought that note to me. I wish to speak to him." - -When the negro messenger entered, Westover asked: - -"Do you belong to Mr. Webb?" - -"No, sir. Laws a Massy, Mas' Boyd, he don't own no folks er nothin' -else. He jes' hires me to fetch and carry for him sometimes." - -"I thought so. How much did he pay you to bring this note to me?" - -"Eighteen pence, sir." - -"Well, now I want you to carry it back to him and I'll give you two and -threepence for the service. I'll make it half a dollar, if you'll tell -him just what I say." - -In old Virginia "eighteen pence" meant a quarter of a dollar, and "two -and threepence" meant thirty-seven and a half cents, the shilling then -being sixteen and two-thirds cents, as the result of some ancient -debasement of coin in England. - -"Suttenly, sir. Ef what you wants me to say is so superfluous like as -to make him mad, I reckon I kin run faster'n he kin." - -"Very well then. I want you to hand him back his letter and say: - -"'Mas' Boyd Westover says he hasn't time just now to ride seven miles -to the Court House to pull your nose or slap your jaws, but he'll -attend to the matter at the first convenient opportunity.' Can you say -that?" - -"No," interrupted Carley Farnsworth. "Why should you want him to? It -wouldn't add a cubit to the stature of your dignity and it wouldn't be -any worse affront to Webb than you can put upon him by sending his note -back without a word. He would rejoice in a quarrel with you--a safe one -at arm's length I mean. It would exalt him in the eyes of others, and -as he's a member of the legislature sure of his reelection, you can't -challenge him or he you. You may hold any view you please as to '_ut_' -with the subjunctive, but on this matter you simply mustn't obey the -impulses of temporary anger. Send the letter back without a word, and -to-morrow you'll thank me for bringing philosophy and common sense to -the restraint of an impulse that has its root in the dormant but still -potential savagery of your nature." - -Westover laughed at the solemn ponderousness of his friend's utterance, -and the laughter was good for him. - -"You're right, of course," he said. "Here, Sam, just take this letter -back to Mr. Webb and tell him I sent no message of any kind. And here's -your half dollar." - -Then, as the negro left the room the young man said: - -"After all, my time hasn't come yet, and meanwhile I must preserve my -dignity. You see, Carley, I am still Westover of Wanalah, and I mean to -prove it to all men by doing things. I don't know yet what things they -are to be, but they must be worthy of the name I bear. I'm going off to -rest and think for a while, and when I come back to Wanalah Jack Towns -will tell me what tools I have to work with. Meanwhile brawling with an -underbred fellow like Webb would be most unbecoming." - -"I'm glad to see that you have lucid intervals, Boyd," answered his -friend. "I reckon we won't bother with Latin Grammar to-night. Let's -play backgammon instead. But in the meantime let me give you a -professional opinion and some professional advice. You are neurasthenic -and you've got to get over it. Your mountain trip will be good for you, -but it would be better still if you could get up a fight of some sort. -I'll try to stir up something of the kind for you, when you get back. -Anyhow, you've got to _quit thinking about yourself_. Let me assure you -that there are thousands of more interesting topics to think about. -There's lettuce, for example, and there is music, to say nothing of -onions and roe herrings and the Missouri Compromise, and the relations -of agriculture to national wealth, and 'possum hunting, and black-eyed -peas and the Dred Scott decision and the morality of flipping quarters -at crack loo. Oh, here's the backgammon board. Let's get to work." - - - - -XV - -UP AT JUDY'S - - -Robust as he was, Boyd Westover felt himself somewhat weary and -footsore when he put one hand on the top rail of Judy Peters's gateless -fence and sprang over it to greet his hostess. - -She was waiting for him of course. She had caught sight of him far down -the mountain, at one of the many turns of the road which were -conveniently visible from her door or her other points of observation. -It was not Judy's habit to be surprised by any arrival. She had had no -warning of Westover's intended visit, but she was keen of vision, and -had had no difficulty in recognizing the wayfarer four miles away, if -measured by the tortuosities of the road, and perhaps a mile away as -the crow flies. - -That had been two or three hours before the time of his actual arrival, -but Judy had not wondered at the delay. She knew Boyd's ways and she -had made out that he had fishing tackle with him. - -"Sapphiry," she had asked her daughter, "how many chickens has you got -picked an' fixed in the spring house." - -"Four," answered Sapphira. "Why, Mammy?" - -"Never you mind why." Then relenting toward the girl's curiosity she -said: - -"Boyd Westover's a comin', an' he'll be mighty hungry fer supper. He's -afoot an' it's more'n twenty mile from his place here. Besides that -he's got four big branches to fish afore he gits here an' that'll take -a heap o' walkin' to say nothin' o' the len'th o' the road. So you jes' -go on with your ironin' till I tell you to set about gittin' supper." - -"May be he won't fish the branches," suggested the girl. - -"Yes, an' may be the moon'll rise in the west to-night an' run wrong -way 'crost the firmament. It's the same sort of a may be, an' that sort -never happens." - -"What you reckon he's a comin' fer, Mammy?" asked Sapphira as she held -up a stiffly starched garment to inspect her work. - -"Dunno, an' it don't make no difference neither, as the feller says. -Boyd Westover's father always found a welcome a waitin' at the fence -when he come to Judy Peters's house, an' I's got the same sort o' -welcome a holdin' out both han's for Boyd when he comes." Then by way -of a more direct though conjectural answer to her daughter's question -she added: - -"Reckon he wants to git away from them stuckups down his way. I hear -they's a been a botherin' of him o' late. Coffey, William, son to -Jesse, was a tellin' me all about it." - -The form "Coffey, William, son to Jesse," was one in familiar use in -the mountains as a means of identifying one among a multitude of men -bearing the same name. There were several families whose membership was -so all pervasive of that region that some such method of identification -on the polling lists and elsewhere was a necessity, and the polling -list nomenclature had been very generally adopted into ordinary use. - -"What was 't all 'bout, Mammy?" - -"I dunno, only, whatever 'twas, another feller done it." - -With that lucid explanation Judy set her flatiron on a trivet in front -of the fire and went to one of her points of vantage to scan the road -below. On her return she took Sapphira's flatiron from her hand, saying: - -"I'll finish up the ironin'. They ain't but three or four pieces. You -run over to the furdest 'tater patch an' gravel a pan o' potaters. Git -a plenty of 'em, kase they's mighty good with fish." - -To "gravel" potatoes is to dig into the "hill" in which the vines grow, -from its side remove the larger potatoes from the rootlets, close up -the opening and leave the vines to bring the remaining tubers to -perfection. It is a process that yields new potatoes before their time -and without destroying the growths. The potatoes secured in that way -are very small, very unwholesome, but altogether delicious. - -"May be he didn't git no fish," said Sapphira doubtingly. - -"Well, you jes' look after the potater maybes. That's your job. The -fish'll git here all right kase I seen him a cleanin' of 'em on the -rocks down 'long Samson's branch. He won't fish no more this evenin' -an' he'll be here in less 'n an hour. So mosey along an' git them -potaters. Soon's I git through with this petticoat, I'll sif' some meal -fer batter bread, git out a crock o' apple butter, an' cut up some -tomatuses. Boyd Westover's hungry an' he's a goin' to have a good -supper ef Judy Peters knows her business, an' she thinks she do." - -When Boyd nimbly swung himself over the fence, all preliminary -preparations for the evening meal were completely made, and Judy stood -ready to welcome him. In his honor she had changed the limp, hot -weather gown that had served her during her ironing, for a stiffly -starched calico in the violently high colors of which her barbaric soul -mightily rejoiced. - -For greeting Judy said: - -"You's come up to shake off the stuck-ups, Boyd, an' git among natural -folks I s'pose. Anyhow you're welcome. Them's beauties," looking into -Boyd's fish basket, "an' they's a flat-back an' two catfish among 'em. -I'd ruther eat a catfish or a flat-back any time than a trout. Trout's -sort o' stuck up fish, even ef they does live up here in the mountings. -But I ain't forgot how to make trout good with the sauce your pappy -learnt me how to make--sauce All on Days he called it,--an' I'll make -you some fer supper." - -Presumably Judy meant sauce Hollandaise. At any rate the sauce she -served with the trout that night was a glorified example of the -dressing that _chefs_ call by that name, improved by the gastronomic -genius of the late Westover of Wanalah, and made by Judy Peters, whose -instinct was infallible in the manufacture of things delectable to the -palate. - -Suddenly Judy observed something in Boyd Westover's face,--a look of -utter weariness that she was sagacious enough to interpret aright, -though she made no mention of her interpretation. - -"He's got things on his mind," she reflected; "an' they's more tiresome -like than all the trampin' a feller can do. His legs is good fer twice -the walkin' he's done to-day. Never mind. We'll fix that up afore we're -through." - -Then turning to Westover she said: - -"You is awful tired, Boyd, even ef you did clear the fence like a -yearlin' colt. Now you's a goin' to rest. Never min' tellin' me nothin' -'bout what you're here for nor none o' the rest of it. You's a-goin' to -have a nap. It'll be a hour or may be two hour afore supper's ready, -'cause I's got that sauce All on Days to make, an' it's a slow job. -It's awful hot this evenin'"--Judy meant afternoon, but like the more -aristocratic Virginians she called everything between noon and -nightfall "evening" and everything after dusk "night," as in very fact -it was. - -"It's awful hot this evenin', but they's a good breeze a blowin' -through the passage, an' they's a broad sofy there, three foot wide an' -seven foot long, an' there you's a goin' to spen' the time twix this -an' supper. They's pillers a plenty, an' you ain't got nothin' to do -only to lay down an' git a good rest. Come on in." - -Five minutes later Boyd Westover was comfortably asleep, with the -assurance that there were no shams or false pretenses in the -hospitality he was enjoying, and it was more than two hours later -before Judy permitted him to be waked. She was accustomed to dominate -everything in her own household, suppers included, and this particular -supper she had "sot back" by a full hour in order that her guest might -have his nap out. Even then she forbade a rude awakening. She simply -parsed two or three times through the broad passageway between the two -log houses that constituted her home, until the swish of her starched -calico skirts awakened him "drop by drop like," as she explained to -Sapphira and those of her long-legged sons who had "turned up" for -supper in the maternal home. Those boys, Webster, Henry Clay, Andrew -Jackson and Theonidas--heaven only knows where Judy got that name--were -always uncertain quantities in the household. Each was a law unto -himself. They came and went at their own free will, giving no account -of themselves. Home was home to them. They appeared there, sure of a -welcome, whenever it suited their convenience to do so. Sometimes all -four would be there; sometimes not one of them would appear for months -at a time. In either case no questions were asked and no accounts -given. The boys were strong of limb, alert, industrious, independent. -They made their own living by doing any sort of work that fell in their -way, and they envied no man his lot or his possessions. They were types -of a robust citizenship of which the Trusts and the Trades -Unions--conspiracies both in restraint alike of trade and of -liberty--have left us small trace in this modern world. - -Their ages varied from thirteen to nineteen years; their height from -five feet ten to six feet three; their muscularity and their sturdy -self reliance not at all. - - - - -XVI - -JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS - - -"Now come out here, Boyd," said Judy when the supper was over. "They's -a full moon or purty nigh onto it, an' it's a raisin', an' the -weather's good an' hot,--good fer growin' corn, an' not bad fer apples -an' pertaters. You an' me is a goin' to have a good long talk. Take -that there rockin' chair an' make yourself comfortable, like, 'cause I -want to hear all about it." - -[Illustration: "Now come out here, Boyd."--Page 161.] - -The rocking chairs sat upon a broad porch or platform, for it had no -roof over it, and the rising moon flooded the place with light. - -"Now tell me all about it," said Judy when the two were seated. - -It is to be said that Judy knew "all about it" already, at least all -about what had happened up to a very few days before. It was her habit -to keep herself fully informed on all subjects that interested her, and -she was mightily interested in everything that concerned any Westover. - -Her loyalty to the Westovers had its own reasons for being. These she -never explained. She rarely explained anything personal to herself. But -that loyalty was barbaric in its intensity of devotion, savage in its -vindictiveness toward whatever and whomsoever antagonized the -Westovers, and recklessly relentless in its manifestations. - -As soon as Boyd Westover fell into difficulties in Richmond, she sent -one of her henchmen there with instructions to employ a lawyer to keep -her informed. When Boyd returned to Wanalah she sent Edgar Coffey to -the county seat to report happenings and conditions. She said to him: - -"Edgar, I has choosed you fer this job, bekase o' several pints in your -character. You is slick an' sly, an' you ain't got no principles to -stand in your way, an' you seems to be stupid, so's nobody'll suspect -you or keep silent when you's about. You kin lie so natural like that -nobody but me'd ever suspect you was a lyin' at all. What you's got to -do is to go down there to the Court House on some sort o' made up -business like, an' hang 'round an' listen, an' find out how the -stuck-ups is a treatin' Boyd Westover. Then you come back here an' tell -me 'bout it. Ef them stuckups treats him fa'r an' squa'r like, it'll be -all right. Ef they don't, I'll make some of 'em wisht they hadn't never -'a' been borned." This last utterance was addressed only to herself. - -Edgar Coffey had returned on the evening before Westover's arrival and -his report had included some account of Webb's boasting that he had -"declined to consider Boyd Westover as a man entitled to the attention -of a gentleman." - -"Now wait, Edgar," Judy said, when Coffey reported this; "don't let -your loose tongue git away with you. Did you hear him say that -hisself--the durned little two-cent postage?" - -"Yes, Judy, sure an' certain; an' everybody down that way's a laughin' -in their sleeves 'bout it. They says, says they, 'Why, ef Boyd Westover -was to git a real mad on him, that feller wouldn't make a mouthful fer -him.'" - -"No more would he," said Judy, addressing herself. - -So Judy knew in advance the whole story that she asked Westover to tell -her; but she wanted to hear his version of it and find out his mood of -mind concerning it, and so she gave no sign of knowing anything. That -was Judy's way. - -Just as the two comfortably seated themselves Theonidas--the thirteen -year old son of the house--emerged from within bearing a tray on which -were a stone jug, a vase-like glass, containing honey in the comb, two -tumblers and a little array of spoons. - -"Now wait a minute, Boyd," said Judy as she directed the placing of the -tray on a table that stood between her and Westover. "You's got a lot -o' durned temperance nonsense mixed up with your good sense, but this -is a 'ceptional occasion; I ain't yit had a chanst to drink to the new -'Westover of Wanalah,' nor yit to congratulate you; an' besides that, -they ain't no harm in a glass o' peach an' honey when I raised the -honey an' made the peach myself, an' specially when the peach is -thirteen year ole in the bar'l. So you an' me is a goin' to have a -glass o' peach an' honey together, sich as folks don't often taste -these days. They was three bar'ls o' that there peach brandy, when my -husband, Marcellus, an' me made it, thirteen year ago, an' that jug's -got the last drop that's left of it. An' the best of it is they ain't -never anybody but the best been let to let it trickle down their -throats. When it were five year old I sold one bar'l of it to Tom -Griffin in Richmond, 'cause he never would let anybody but the best -have any of it. When it were ten year old I give one bar'l of it to -your pappy, 'cause I jes' know'd what sort o' folks he'd let drink it. -You see the peaches that year--thirteen year ago--was extra superfine, -an' I picked out the very best of 'em for them three bar'ls o' brandy, -an' they ain't been no peach like it ever made in these here mountings. -So now you an' me's a goin' to have a glass o' peach an' honey, an' sip -it slow like, while we talk, so's that we kin git the taste in our -throats an' all the way down. You see, Boyd, they's tricks in makin' -peach jes' as they is in politics an' religion an' school teachin' and -gittin' married. They wa'n't no trick when I got married, mind. I don't -mean that. Marcellus Peters was as good a man as these here mountings -ever raised, an' now he's been dead more'n a dozen years I ain't got no -complaint to make 'bout him. Only he hadn't much 'git there' in him. It -didn't make much difference, 'cause I could ten' to that part o' the -business myself. But he did know how to make peach an' apple brandy. -You see, Boyd, they's tricks in makin' peach, as I was a sayin', an' -Marcellus he know'd all of 'em. I ain't a sayin' he didn't work 'em off -on folks as didn't know nor care. He'd git a order fer peach when he -hadn't no peach, an' he'd fill the order. He'd take ten pound or so o' -dried peaches an' set 'em to stew fer an hour or so. Then he'd put 'em -through the bung hole of a bar'l o' apple brandy, an' let 'em 'sociate -with the brandy like, fer three or four days, rollin' the bar'l now an' -then to shake it up, like. Then he'd draw that brandy off into another -bar'l, an' it was fine old peach. Same with cherry brandy, or -blackberry, an' the stuck-ups didn't know the difference. But this here -peach is differenter. It was made of peaches, good peaches, such as -you'd smile to eat, an' Tom Griffin was glad to pay me seven dollars a -gallon for the bar'l of it he got. I reckon he'd pay twice that ef he -could git another bar'l of it now." - -Judy Peters was not talking without a definite purpose. She never did -that. Even when her conversation rambled as it did on this occasion, it -rambled of set purpose and with deliberate intent. This time her -purpose was to induce a like rambling impulse on Boyd Westover's part, -so that she might not only hear from his lips the whole story of his -tribulations, but gather, by the wayside of his conversation as it -were, a clear impression of his present mood and attitude of mind, -something which could not be gained by direct questioning. - -In all this the shrewdly wise old woman succeeded, and when Boyd -Westover bade her good night as the clock struck twelve, she knew all -she wanted to know about him. After he had gone to bed she lighted her -pipe anew and summed up her conclusions in the case of the young man -beneath her roof in reflections to the following effect: - -"He's a feelin' it more'n's good fer him. - -"He's wrong in his mind or his liver or his lights, an' the fust -needfulness is to set 'em right. - -"He's a doin' the right thing in a goin' off up into the high -mountings. It'll straighten out the liver an' lights an' I'll make -Theonidas go with him, jes' to take the rough off, an' to keep him in -company like. That'll be healthier fer him. - -"They's somethin' about a gal in the case, but jes' naturally I -couldn't git at that. Men is sech fools 'bout women anyhow! A young -feller will pick one purty gal out'n a dozen, all on 'em jes' as purty -an' jes' as smart as she is, an' ef she gives him the mitten he'll go -mournin' about, jes' as ef she was the onliest tadpole in the puddle, -while all the rest o' the dozen purty gals is a standin' ready to make -as big a fool out'n him as ever she could 'a' done. It's cur'ous but -'tain't to be helped no way, I reckon. - -"Howsomever the thing to do is to git him interested in somethin', an' -I kin manage that. He'll git healthy like, up thar' in the high -mountings, an' by the time he comes back I'll git somethin' ready fer -him to do." - -Boyd was already better in spirits when he greeted the sun the next -morning from the top of a hill near Judy's place. The air of the -mountains had been good for him. Better still had been Judy's -cordiality and her naturalness. After all his depression had been -rooted in the artificialities of human association, and in Judy -Peters's company there was no such artificiality. She had not hesitated -to interrupt his narrative of events at various points to tell him that -in this or that particular he had been a "darned fool," or a "frosted -potater vine," or a "dod dasted idjit," or something else of the sort -that she thought helpful to her endeavor to bring him back to a healthy -mental condition. - -Her main reliance for his restoration to normality, however, was in -getting something strenuous for him to do. "Hard work's the calomel he -needs, an' a good hard fight's his quinine. It'll cure his chills, an' -I'll git it ready fer him." - -With that determination fixed in her mind, Judy knocked the ashes out -of her pipe, covered up the kitchen fire, set some roe herrings to -soak, and went to bed. Sleep was to her healthy soul a matter of course. - - - - -XVII - -JUDY INFORMS HERSELF AND MAKES PLANS - - -It was well past midsummer when Westover after a stay of three days -went from Judy Peters's place up into the higher and more desolate -parts of the mountain region. He was accompanied by Theonidas, whose -instructions from his mother were minute and explicit. - -"B'ar in mind, Theonidas," she said to him in an intimate conversation, -"as how your duty's to keep him busy with things outsiden' hisself. -He's got too many books 'long with him, but they's good ef he don't git -to readin' of 'em by daylight. You's got to look out fer that. Ef you -find him a readin' an' a broodin' by daylight, you jes' find out -somethin' 'bout a b'ar or a catamount hangin' round, an' git him to -lookin' fer that. An' ef he gits to readin' too late o' nights, showin' -as how his min's oneasy like, you kin git up a night hunt or somethin' -like that, or ef that don't work you kin go out an' yell like a painter -till he gits his gun." - -A "painter," in mountain parlance, meant a panther, or more properly -the mountain lion, a catlike, predatory beast between whom and the -mountaineers there was eternal war. - -"Anyhow, Theonidas," concluded Judy, "you ain't no fool, an' now as you -knows my intentions, you's to carry 'em out. Keep him a goin'. Keep him -busy. Keep him so durned tired that he can't help sleepin' o' nights. -That's your cawntract. Ef he gits contrary an' won't git sleepy an' you -can't think o' nothin' else to do, jes' you set down an' tell him a lot -o' your yarns. He's too perlite not to let you talk on, an' I ain't -never knowed nothin' as would put a feller to sleep quicker'n one o' -your yarns, Theonidas." - -In the event there proved to be no need of the soporific influence of -Theonidas's yarns. Westover had gone into the mountains to distract his -mind with sport, and he pursued that purpose ceaselessly by day and by -night. He would hunt deer, bears, turkeys, squirrels, pheasants and -every other species of game as it came into the advancing season, -throughout the day, and at night after a campfire dinner which he -cooked for himself, he and Theonidas would go eagerly in quest of night -prowlers--'coons, 'possums, and painters. Now and then he would send -Theonidas down the mountain with a present of game for Judy, while he -himself exercised his wits in controversy with a certain wily old trout -that was accustomed to jeer at him from one or another pool of the -stream that flowed by the cabin door. Sometimes he sent a haunch of -venison, a half dozen pheasants or a brace of young wild turkey -gobblers, with a request that Judy should arrange for their delivery to -Carley Farnsworth, a commission he knew she would execute to the letter. - -In brief, young Westover was growing healthy of mind and body again, -while the books he had brought with him to serve as a means of killing -time lay unopened in the log cabin where he slept for long hours at -such times as physical weariness forbade him further to follow the -sports of the glorious out of doors. - -In the meanwhile Judy Peters was maturing her plans. She kept Edgar -Coffey most of the time in the plantation part of the county, with -instructions to find out how the people down there felt toward -Westover, and who among them might be trusted to aid her in a project -she had formed, when the time should be ripe for its execution. As a -result of Edgar's mousing inquiries and her own shrewd skill in -discriminating between truth and falsehood in his periodical reports, -Judy Peters knew more about sentiment in the piedmont region than -anybody there did, not excepting William Wilberforce Webb, whose -personal concern it was to inform himself accurately as to that. She -knew, as Webb did not, that the great majority of the men of Westover's -own class--the men of assured social position--were strongly disposed -to regard his misfortune with generous sympathy, while those of less -well assured standing were disposed to shrug shoulders and give hints -of doubt. - -She learned one thing, however, that troubled her a good deal. Among -those of Westover's own class there was a vague, undefined but none the -less hurtful suspicion that he had somehow failed of manly chivalry in -his treatment of Margaret Conway. The suspicion had its origin in the -fact that Colonel Conway would in no way discuss Westover's case or -express any opinion concerning him or his conduct. On the other hand it -lacked definiteness for the same reason. If there were no truth in it, -people argued, Colonel Conway would certainly plant a heavy heel upon -the rumor as an act of simple justice to a falsely accused young man; -if there were truth in it, it was difficult to understand why Colonel -Conway did not call the young man to account in some way. - -Of all these conditions Judy was fully informed and when the autumn -came, with the general election in prospect, she directed Edgar Coffey -to find out definitely concerning the prospective "enominations," as -she and all the rest of the mountain folk called them. - -"Is that there fadey calico feller, Webb, a goin' to be enominated fer -State senator from our distric'," she asked of her emissary when he -returned from his mission. - -"No, he's a strikin' higher like. He's a goin' to be enominated fer -State senator from this distric'; in fac' he's enominated a'ready, an' -he's mighty proud like over it." - -"Yes, well, what's he a sayin' 'bout it?" - -"He says as he's got the reg'lar Whig enomination, an' as this is a -strong Whig distric', he's got the 'lection sure." - -Judy sat silent for awhile. Then she asked: - -"Is he a standin' on one leg while he's a waitin' fer it, Edgar? 'Case -ef he is he's a goin' to git mighty tired 'fore he gits the other foot -down. You tramp over to Marcellus McGrath's this evenin' an' tell him I -want to see him to-morrer mornin', sure. Tell him I've got a job fer -him, an' don't fergit to say he's to do it with his head. Ef he thought -'twas work, he would forgit to come. Git along now. Time's money you -know, though you can't never git nobody to give you silver change fer -it." - -Marcellus McGrath was the mountain schoolmaster, who read everything -from quack medicine almanacs to patent office reports, remembered -everything he read to the last detail, and never in his life made the -smallest use of the information with which the lumber room he called -his mind was packed full. Facts were everything to him; the -significance of facts had never occurred to him as a thing worthy of -consideration. - -He came promptly in response to Judy's summons, and he brought with him -his big, shaggy headful of unrelated facts and figures, more securely -lodged in his memory than in any book of reference or any table of -statistics. - -Judy "tapped him," as she described the process, as soon as he had -lighted his pipe after a barbaric feast of fried chicken, jowl and -greens, pot cheese, green corn, batter bread, cold ham, tomatoes, -souse, roast venison from Westover's camp, cucumbers, onions, apple -butter, rice pudding, apple dumplings, and ice cream. - -By way of explanation to Sapphira, while the meal was in process of -preparation, she had said: - -"Mark McGrath don't git none too much to eat at home, I reckon, an' I'm -a goin' to pump enough facts an' figgers out'n him to leave room for -the other things." - -But she did not begin the pumping process until McGrath's pipe was -comfortably lighted, and then she did so gently at first. She had -placed a slate and pencil on a table by his side, so that he might -"figger out" anything she wanted elucidated. - -"How many voters is they in this here senate distric'?" she asked him -to begin with; and he gave the figures promptly. - -"Set that down on the slate," she directed, and the order was obeyed. - -"'Bout how many o' them is planters' votes--countin' in the overseers -an' the rest o' them as always votes the way the planters tells 'em to?" - -McGrath thought for a brief while and then gave his estimate. - -"How many of 'em is Democratic votes?" - -"Oh, the district is almost solidly Whig. The Democratic vote is really -a negligible quantity," the schoolmaster, beginning to feel his -importance, replied. - -"I ain't a fishin' fer big words, Mark. I's a huntin' fer facts. Don't -you make no mistake about that. Now, tell me, how many Democratic votes -was they in the last election?" - -So she went on with her catechism, making her interlocutor set down on -the slate such figures as she wished to use in her calculations. With -these as factors she made the schoolmaster do a deal of abstruse -reckoning, the purport and purpose of which he could not at all -conjecture, but the results of which seemed to satisfy her, as she said -at the end of it all: - -"It kin be did, an' by the Hokey Pokey Fenokey it's a goin' to be did. -That little worm-eaten, blossom-blasted chestnut of a Webb'll wish he -hadn't never let go of his hold on the tree when Judy Peters gits -through with him. Say, Mark, what does William Wilberforce mean?" - -"It's a name," McGrath began. - -"Yes, I know that. But what does it mean? Whose name was it fust off? -An' what was it he done? An' how'd that miserable little bob-tailed -rooster Webb git a hold onto it?" - -Judy's antagonisms were implacable, and they were apt to find -expression in her epithets and her metaphors. She knew next to nothing -of Webb, and she had permitted her mountaineers to vote for him at the -last preceding election. But now that she recognized in him an enemy of -Boyd Westover, she hated him with an intensity and an unreason possible -only to a nature such as hers, in which the primal passions of humanity -had yielded themselves to no chastening of circumstance or civilization. - -McGrath, to whom no hint of Judy's purposes had been given, answered -her questions as if reading from a cyclopædia: - -"William Wilberforce was an Englishman, celebrated as a philanthropist -and especially distinguished by his work for the abolition of negro -slavery. He was known in England as 'the great abolitionist.'" - -"That's all right," said Judy with a grunt of satisfaction. "I ain't -got no way o' findin' out how that bow-legged hoppergrass, Webb, got a -holt'n the name, but he'll wish't he hadn't 'fore I git through with -him. Now, Mark, I want you to write down jes' what you's tole me--no -more an' no less--'bout that there abolitionist Wilberforce. Jest write -it down on paper an' leave it." - -"What are you up to, Judy, anyhow?" McGrath ventured to ask. - -"That's what the queen bee axed the b'ar when he clum' the bee tree, -an' the b'ar says: 'I'm up to the hole that's got the honey in it'." - -And Judy vouchsafed no further explanation of her purposes. - -Next day she sent for Edgar Coffey and questioned him. - -"Who's this here Don Carlos Farnsworth that Westover's always a sendin' -game to? Do you know him?" - -"Yes. He's a white man." - -In the parlance of Virginia at that time there was no phrase that meant -so much as that. To say of one that he was "a white man" was to say -that he was honest, upright, true and loyal to the tips of his fingers. -Judy perfectly understood and so far was satisfied. - -"Kin he talk?" she asked. - -"Well I reckon. I ain't never seed him when he was a doin' anything -else. Words streams out'n him like water out'n a spoutin' spring, an' -they's the sort o' words that wallops you all up an' don't leave you no -chanst to argify." - -"You go down thar to-morrow, Edgar, an' tell him please to come up here -jes' as quick as he kin, an' have dinner an' a night's lodgin' like. -Tell him I want to see him 'bout Boyd Westover, an' ef he backs an' -pulls on the halter like, you tell him I say Boyd's in a bad way in -certain respec's. Remember to say 'in certain respec's.' Ef you don't -you'll mislead him." - -"Why not write him a letter, Judy, an' let me carry it? Then you'd be -sure." - -"I ain't a writin' no letters. You see's long as you jes' send word -like, they ain't nothin' for anybody to git a hold on. Nobody kin be -sure you said jest them words, and nobody kin prove you didn't say 'em -jes' a little differenter. But ef you put yourself down in writin' -they's got you. No, I ain't a writin' nothin', partic'lar when I's got -a hen on the nest fer some feller. So you jes' go down there to-morrow -an' tell Don Carlos Farnsworth I'm a invitin' him up here on Boyd -Westover's account. Ef he says he'll come, you hain't got no need to -say no more. But ef he backs in the traces like, you jes' tell him what -I tole you about Boyd a bein' in a bad way in certain respec's. -Remember them words an' say 'em right--'_in certain respec's_.'" - - - - -XVIII - -JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN - - -Judy's summons brought Carley Farnsworth up into the mountains within -the fewest possible hours after she gave it to her emissary to deliver. -For Carley Farnsworth was Westover's friend, and in Virginia at that -time friendship meant a readiness to serve at any cost or hazard. - -It was nearing supper time when Farnsworth appeared at Judy's -hospitable door and introduced himself. - -"This is Mrs. Peters, I suppose?" he said as she confronted him. - -"Judy Peters is my name," she answered in that spirit of mountain -democracy which scorns titles and distinctions and shams of every other -sort. - -Farnsworth was quick to catch the underlying significance of her -correction and both diplomacy and humor prompted him to play the game -as she wanted it played. - -"That's what I hoped for," he responded quickly; "for Judy Peters is -the very person I most want to see in all the world just now. I am -Carley Farnsworth, Judy. Of course Boyd has written the name 'Don -Carlos' every time he has sent me game through you, and so you don't -know me as 'Carley,' but that's what I am to all my friends, and I -count you as one of the best of them because you're a friend of Boyd -Westover, just as I am." - -"Now that's spoke up like a real, natural young feller, an' not like a -drasted stuck-up," responded Judy, shaking hands and bestowing him in a -porch chair where a minute later she pressed a toddy of apple brandy -upon his acceptance, as a sure cure for the weariness he must feel -after his trapes up the mountain. - -As he sipped the seductive beverage he and she talked. But neither -alluded even in the most distant way to the occasion for his visit or -to Judy's summons, or to anything else relating to Boyd Westover. They -were both fencing for position. Each wanted to "size up" the other, -before approaching matters of confidence and consequence. But by the -time Judy's generous supper was at an end these two understood each -other and each trusted the other. Judy had told him how many "hawgs" -she sent down the mountain every year to be sold to planters, to be -corn fed for three weeks, and converted into hams, bacon, souse, and -all the rest of the good things in which Virginian appetites revelled. -She had told him how many "bar'ls" of apple brandy she made "in a -average year," how much cider, how much vinegar, and where her market -was for all these things. Incidentally she had given him her -picturesque opinions upon many questions of human character, life and -conduct, and he in his turn had told her everything he could think of, -concerning himself. - -"Now you an' me's acquainted," Judy said when she thought the time ripe -for the revelation of her plans. "You's the sort o' feller to git -acquainted with, easy an' natural like, 'case you ain't got nothin' to -keep up your sleeve, an' you ain't got up in a lot o' shams an' frills. -You is straight goods, Carley, all wool, a yard wide an' dyed in the -hanks. May be it's 'cause you's a real 'ristocrat what don't need to -keep on tellin' 'bout it." - -"Thank you for the compliment, Judy," said Farnsworth, interrupting. - -"They ain't no compliment to thank anybody for," she replied. "They -ain't never no compliments a flyin' about when Judy Peters is mixed up -in the talk; or ef they is they's purty apt to git holes punched in -'em. Ef I thought you was a palaverin' liar, Carley, I'd tell you so -straight out. Ef I thought you was a feller what would say one thing -an' do another, you'd hear that opinion from Judy Peters's lips, an' -what's more you wouldn't hear none o' the things I axed you to come up -here to hear about. Now le's git down to business, as the feller said -when the sheriff was slow about a hangin' of him. You see, Carley, Boyd -Westover's had a shakin' up, an' he ain't right in his sperits. He's -got a notion into his head that folks is down on him an' all that. -S'long as he's up there a huntin' an' fishin' an' listenin' to -Theonidas's yarns an' sleepin' tight he's all right. But that notion -'bout folks a bein' down on him is still a stickin' in his mind, like -mutton gravy sticks in the roof of your mouth, an' you an' me's got to -cure him of it. I's already laid out plans, an' ef you're game to help -me, we'll rub that thing off'n his slate." - -"I'm game to help you, Judy, in any way you like. You may bet all the -apple brandy you've got on that." - -"Is that a hint, like? Does you want another nip? 'Cause ef you do, -it'll be here quicker'n lightnin'." - -"No, Judy. I don't want another dram, and I never indulge in hints, -especially with a straightforward person like you. If I wanted a drink -I'd tell you so, but in fact I hardly ever taste liquor of any sort, -and that toddy you gave me was the first I've sipped in a year or more." - -"Yes, it's curious, but they's a good many young men nowadays as don't -take to their drams natural like. I s'pose it's all right, but I don't -understand it. Anyhow, that's no matter. As I was a sayin', Boyd -Westover's got that notion in his head 'bout folks a bein' down on him, -an' it'll come back to him when the snow drives him down out'n the -mountings. Now the way to cure him of it's to git him 'lected to -somethin', an' I's got the somethin' picked out. When he fin's as folks -has voted for him agin t'other feller, he jes' naturally can't go on a -thinkin' folks is down on him. See?" - -"Yes, I see that, and your idea is a good one, Judy, if we can get him -to run for some office." - -"Git him to run? We won't ax him. We'll jes' run him ourselves, an' -we'll 'lect him too, ef the big figgers tops the little ones as I's -always seed 'em do in a 'lection count." - -Judy was apt to be confident in her predictions, chiefly for the reason -that she never made a prediction till she knew all the facts that might -bear in any way upon its fulfilment. - -"That's what I wanted to see you about, Carley. This is the way of it. -You kin help, an' I'm a bettin' my fingers agin fishhooks you'll do it." - -"It's a good bet, Judy," he interrupted. "I'd do anything imaginable -for Westover, and, now that I know you, I'd do even more than that for -you. Go on. What's your plan?" - -"Well, you see that measly little soap-locked sap-head, William -Wilberforce Webb--they's more name to the man than man to the name--has -gone an' got hisself enominated fer the Senate. That suits me down to -the ground. You an' me is a goin' to beat him out'n his boots, an' -'lect Westover in his stid. That's the game an' the way the wind blows, -an' the lay o' the land." - -"But, Judy, can we do it? You see Webb has secured the regular Whig -nomination, and this is a strong Whig district." - -"That's all right," answered Judy, confident of the "figgerin'" she had -made Marcellus McGrath do on her slate. "You see it's this a'way. The -Democrats ain't got no chanst to 'lect a man o' their own, but they're -a layin' low to rip the righteousness out'n the reg'lar Whig candidate -ef they git the chanst, an' you an' me's a goin' to give 'em the -chanst. We'll enominate Westover as a 'Independent Whig candidate' an' -every Democrat in the distric' 'll vote for him. They won't be no -Democrat candidate." - -"Are you sure of that, Judy? With two Whigs running they might think -they had a chance to slip a Democrat in." - -"They mout, of course, but they won't," answered Judy, confidently. -"I's seen to that. You don't s'pose Judy Peters was borned day before -yesterday, do you, Carley?" Then, without waiting for him to protest a -greater respect for her age and experience, she continued: - -"Shouldn't wonder ef the Democrats got some local offices this year. -You see the mounting vote is uncertain. Anyhow, they won't enominate -anybody for the Senate; or, yes they will. They's a makin' the -enomination to-day. But after you an' me has got Westover a goin' their -candidate will withdraw hisself an' urge all Democrats to vote fer -Westover an' 'lect him. You see the Democrat vote is a leetle more'n -twenty-five per cent. in this Senate distric'. I got Marcellus McGrath -to figger that out. An' twenty-five per cent. is a quarter, Mark says, -an' he knows. Now the vote up here in the mountings is more'n half o' -the whole, 'cause us folks up here raises more children than the -planter people does. They ain't no profit in boastin', but I kin tell -you jes' confidential like, that ef Judy Peters lets her tongue git too -loose an' the secret slips out that she wants Boyd Westover 'lected, -you could count on your fingers an' toes the votes the other feller'd -git up here in the mountings. Seems to me like a sure thing, Carley." - -With that Judy chuckled in satisfaction. - -"But you've hearn talk o' 'moral effec',' haven't you, Carley?" - -Farnsworth intimated that he had some small perception of the meaning -of the terms, and Judy went on: - -"Well, what you an' me's a playin' for is moral effec' on Boyd -Westover. As fer 'lectin' him, they won't be no trouble 'bout that. But -ef the moral effec' is to be strong, we mus' git the biggest vote we -kin for him down among the plantation people. Fust off, then, he's got -to be enominated by that sort o' folks, without no hint o' Judy Peters -or the mountings in it. That's your fust job. You go down there, sayin -nothin' 'bout Judy Peters or the mountings, an' git a lot o' the -stuck-ups to jine you in enominatin' him." - -In those days the "Reformers" who plead for independence in politics -had not yet invented their ingenious devices for compelling the voter -to make a choice of evils in deciding for whom he would vote. There -were no such things as "official ballots" limiting the choice of the -voter to men formally nominated. Every man was free, as every man -everywhere ought to be, to vote for whomsoever he pleased without -consulting an "Australian" ballot sheet to find out what men he was -permitted to vote for. And any man who aspired to office was at liberty -to announce his candidacy in person or through friends as an appeal to -his fellow citizens for their free suffrages, without asking permission -of any caucus or boss or primary or convention, and without the -necessity of spending money corruptly in order to secure the privilege -of being voted for if his fellow citizens wished to vote for him. - -Judy continued: - -"When you git all the big-bug signatures you kin, jest send a nigger -round to post up the enomination papers everywhere. Have 'em printed, -Carley, 'cause print sort o' carries weight, an' printin' don't cost -much, an' even ef it did, 'twouldn't make no difference, 'cause I'd pay -the bill." - -"You can't do that, Judy. Westover's friends down there'll attend to -that. I'll have twenty or twenty-five signatures to the paper, and I'll -have five or six hundred printed, so as to post one on every gate post -and every tree that anybody's likely to look at. How many do you want, -for use in the mountains?" - -"None at all! Not one!" answered Judy, emphatically. "They won't be -needed up here, 'cause I'm a takin' care o' the mounting vote, an' I -ain't a sayin' nothin'. Let 'em keep a guessin' 'bout how the mountings -is a goin' till they hears the answer to the riddle when the polls is -closed. You see ef they find out the mountings is agin 'em they'll try -to do somethin' up here, an' ef they's uncertain they won't care to -stir up things. But besides all that, there's the drymatic climax to -think of. Tom Hardaway tole me all about that wunst, so I know what a -drymatic climax is, an' I mean to have one this time, jest for the sake -o' that banty rooster, William Wilberforce Webb, who'll find all his -tail feathers pulled out by the roots when the 'lection's over." - -It will perhaps be inferred from Judy's utterances that her hatreds -were implacable as her likings were limitless. For explanation it is -only necessary to remember that Judy Peters was an entirely natural -person, unaffected by any of the agencies of civilization. To her, in -sentiment and emotion, compromises were as impossible as concessions; -qualifications as unthinkable as cowardice itself--and there was no -cowardice in Judy. Toward those whose conduct had aroused neither -animosity nor affection in her soul, she was always fair with a -frankness that had no hypocrisy and no reserve in it; toward those whom -she cherished as friends her loyalty was of a sort that knew no bounds -and asked no questions; toward those whom she recognized as her -enemies, and still more toward those who were the enemies of her -friends, she cherished a malevolence that knew no mercy and that -stopped at nothing in the accomplishment of its malignant purposes. - -Such was Judy--a typical representative of the human animal in his -untamed and natural state. - -"Then they's another thing, Carley, an' it's fust an' foremost in my -thinkin'." - -"What is it, Judy?" - -"Well, it's this aways. You see you an' me's a workin' an' a plannin' -to bring Westover round all right again. Now the 'lection '11 do a -mighty sight that way, but 'twon't do it all. What Boyd needs is a -good, hard fight, an' that's what you an' me's got to give him. He -ain't to know nothin' 'bout the way the 'lection's a goin' when he -hears of his enomination. He ain't to know as how Judy Peters had -anything to do with it. He's jest to be told as how a lot o' you -stuck-ups has enominated him, and how nobody knows where he's a been, -an' how they's a sayin' an' a insinuatin' all sorts o' things, an' -specially that he's afeard to face his constituents. That'll stir up -all the fightin' blood they is in him, an' they's apt to be a lot o' -that sort o' blood in a Westover. It'll set him hot when he gits down -your way, an' from then tell the 'lection's over he'll fight like a -catamount when a dozen hounds gits him cornered. That's what he needs, -an' when the thing's over, an' he fin's himself 'lected by a large -majority, an' sees that water-soaked piece o' cheap soap that calls -hisself William Wilberforce Webb a slinkin' off into his hole like a -drownded rat, he won't git to thinkin' agin' that folks is down on him." - -Judy's metaphors were a trifle mixed perhaps, but her rhetoric had -behind it an intensity and a sincerity of purpose that left her auditor -in no doubt as to her meaning. - -"Judy, you're a brick!" exclaimed Carley Farnsworth rising and grasping -her hand. "You've got blood in your veins, and sand in your gizzard, -and a headpiece on your shoulders. I'm with you, all over and clear -through. I'm going back down the mountain to-morrow morning. I'll get -the nomination papers out, and I'll speak three times a day for -Westover. I never made a speech in my life, but I can do it now, and -all between the speeches I'll talk. The words'll flow out of me like -water through a mill-tail. And one thing more, Judy; I'm a little -fellow, as you know. I don't weigh a hundred and ten pounds, I'm only -five feet three in my shoes, but I can pull a trigger. I'll see to it -that nobody says anything shameful about Boyd Westover without being -called to an interview with me at ten paces." - -So was the compact made. Judy went inside and brewed a bowl of hot -apple toddy which she insisted that Carley should share with her "jes' -to bind the bargain," she said, and Carley, unused as he was to such -indulgence, took the risk of a next morning's headache by drinking fair -with her. - - - - -XIX - -THE BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN - - -Carley Farnsworth never did anything by halves. His methods were those -of one engaged in killing snakes. When he undertook the accomplishment -of a purpose he tirelessly left nothing undone that might in the -smallest degree assist in that accomplishment. - -In this case he appealed personally and quietly to all the planters in -the district to aid in the choice of a man of their own class to -represent them in the upper house of the Legislature, instead of a -shifty lawyer of "insecure antecedents, unripened position, and as yet -unproved character." That was the careful phrase he had framed for use -while trudging down the mountain, and he used it so effectively that he -soon had a score of the most influential names in all that region -appended to his announcement of Boyd Westover's candidacy. - -But he was not satisfied with that. He reminded the two store keepers -at the Court House that Westover's constituency represented in a large -degree the purchasing capacity of the region, and the two store -keepers, alert to conserve their own interests, not only signed the -nomination announcement, but secured a number of other and humbler -signatures, and made of their stores a species of campaigning centres -in Westover's interest, thus giving a needed flavor of democracy to the -aristocratic appeal to the planters to "choose for their senator a man -whose character, attainments and social position render him fitly -representative of the district and its people." - -Carley Farnsworth was a doctor in large practice. As such he was versed -in what he called "the gospel of keeping the mouth shut." Accordingly -he made his preliminary canvas silently, secretly and with so little -ostentation that neither Webb nor any of his friends dreamed of what -was going on. Their first intimation of it was the discovery one -morning that the nominating placards were posted on the court house -doors, all over the fronts of all the blacksmiths' and wheelrights' -shops, on all the school houses, on the posts of every gate that was -licensed to obstruct a public road, and upon every conspicuous tree in -the piedmont part of the Senate district. - -For Carley Farnsworth had adopted Judy Peters's view of "drymatic -effect," and had had all his placards posted between midnight and -morning of a single day. - -The dramatic effect was instantly apparent. All tongues were set -wagging and before another night came everybody in the region round -about knew that Boyd Westover was a candidate for the Senate, nominated -in his absence and supported by many of the most influential men in the -community. - -What it meant, nobody knew, and everybody asked everybody else. Those -who asked Carley Farnsworth got for reply: - -"Oh, it is only that some of us think we ought to have a fitter man -than Webb to represent us in the Senate, and we've nominated Westover -without his knowledge or consent." - -"But where is he?" was sure to be the next question. "Is he afraid to -face the public?" - -"No," Carley answered in every case. "If you get it into your head that -Boyd Westover is afraid of anything or anybody, you'll be as badly -mistaken as if you'd burnt your boots. He's away on a hunting and -fishing expedition, just now, and he knows nothing of his nomination. -When we notify him of it he'll be here to face anything or anybody, and -in the meanwhile there are some others of us who are prepared to do any -'facing' that may be necessary." - -This last utterance was intended to check unfavorable references to -Boyd Westover's unfortunate experience, and it was in the main -effective. For Carley Farnsworth, small as he was, had a reputation as -a fighting force of no mean pretensions. Three times he had met -antagonists on the duelling field. On one of those occasions he had -seriously wounded his foe, and then had tenderly cared for him, nursing -him back to health in his own house. On the two other occasions his -antagonists had apologized. In still another case Carley had shown a -loftier courage. After accepting a challenge he had said to his seconds: - -"I am satisfied that I'm in the wrong in this matter. I was entirely -sincere in making the charge for which I am challenged, but I made it -upon misinformation, and I am prepared to withdraw and apologize for -it. Communicate that decision to my antagonist. If he still wants a -shot at me, he can have it of course." - -Such was Carley Farnsworth, and in view of the veiled warning his words -gave, it was felt that an extreme discretion in discussing matters -pertaining to Westover's candidacy was, to say the least, desirable. - -Yet Webb and his friends felt that something must be done to stem the -tide created by the Westover nomination. The names appended to it were -those of such men that their support of any candidacy in opposition, -seriously imperilled Webb's chance of election, which until then had -been regarded as a foregone conclusion that needed no looking after. - -"Something must be done," and the fact that Colonel Conway's signature -was conspicuously absent from the nomination paper, suggested the -nature of that "something." It was known that The Oaks and Wanalah were -adjoining plantations; that the Conways and the Westovers had been the -closest intimates for generations; that Colonel Conway had wearied all -ears with his eulogiums of Westover's gallantry in rescuing his -daughter in time of peril. Why then was Colonel Conway's name absent -from a list that it should naturally have headed? Was it that he -believed in Westover's guilt in spite of the revealed facts, as some -others professed to do? Or was there truth in the rumor, which was -vaguely floating about, that Westover had jilted Colonel Conway's -daughter? - -That last suggestion was quickly negatived in all well ordered minds by -the certain knowledge that if Westover or any other man on earth had -been guilty of such offence toward a daughter of the house of Conway, -the head of that house would have horse-whipped the offender in public -and at the point of a pistol. - -Nevertheless there remained the fact that Colonel Conway's name did not -appear among those nominating Boyd Westover, and that fact greatly -encouraged Webb and his adherents when they found that they must fight -tooth and nail for an election which they had deemed secure beyond the -necessity of endeavor of any sort. They set to work, not so much to -find out the reason for Colonel Conway's refusal of his name, as to -insinuate conjectural solutions of that riddle that might be hurtfully -whispered into doubting ears. - -"There must be something wrong in that quarter." - -"It isn't easy to explain." - -"Of course Colonel Conway has his reasons, even if he doesn't give -them." - -"If there wasn't something wrong, why didn't Colonel Conway put his -name first on the list?" - -These, and like things could be said without incurring a challenge from -Carley Farnsworth's wrath, and they were diligently and hurtfully said; -hurtfully because in that community the least suspicion that a man had -been other than chivalrous in his treatment of a woman was damning -beyond the possibility of forgiving. - -This thing troubled Carley Farnsworth more than he liked to admit even -to himself. A good many signatures had been denied to his nominating -paper on the sole ground that Colonel Conway had refused to sign it, -and the absence of his signature was the one effective plea of Webb and -his followers. - -When Carley Farnsworth had gone to Colonel Conway to ask his aid, the -sturdy old planter had replied: - -"I have reasons of my own for not signing your paper, Dr. Farnsworth. -Please do not ask me what they are." - -To that there was no possible response. The request with which the -Colonel concluded his reply made a peremptory end of the conversation -so far as that subject was concerned, and so Carley Farnsworth talked -of crops and the curing of hams instead. - -But Carley Farnsworth felt that this doubt, this question, this -suspicion, was a seriously undermining influence in his campaign for -his friend, which there was no means of meeting in Boyd Westover's -absence. For, in whispers and by questions that could not be challenged -as assertions, Webb and his followers were suggesting that Colonel -Conway was only waiting for Westover's return before making public the -reasons that impelled him to withhold his approval of his neighbor's -candidacy, and that the fear of Colonel Conway's wrath was the real -reason for Boyd Westover's continued absence. - -Carley's first impulse was to write to Judy Peters, telling her that -Boyd's presence was necessary and giving her the reasons. But upon -reflection he decided that this was a case in which Judy's objection to -"puttin' things down in writin'" was peculiarly applicable and valid. -So he sought converse with Edgar Coffey, who, under Judy's -instructions, was "a hangin' round" the lower parts of the district, -and confided to him the urgent and explanatory message he wished Judy -to receive. - -On receipt of the message, Judy acted promptly, but in her own way. To -Edgar Coffey she said: - -"You go home now, an' look after things there. You's got nine good hogs -to kill this fall an' your wife's a feedin' 'em on apples. Your wife's -purty, Edgar, an' her ways is pleasin', but she ain't got the sense she -was borned with. She mixes the strippin's with the milk jes' as ef -strippin's wa'n't purty nigh the same as cream, an' she hitches a horse -to the body of a tree, 'stead of a swingin' limb, so's the beast can -break the halter an' go home, leavin' her to walk. She done that at -church only two weeks ago come nex' Sunday. An' now she's a feedin' -hogs on apples when she orter be a givin' 'em corn to harden the meat -fer killin' time. So you better go home an' fix things. I'll ten' to -the rest." - -Edgar was grievously disappointed. He had confidently hoped to be -himself Judy's messenger to Boyd Westover, but Judy was much too -sagacious to permit that. - -"Boyd'll ax questions," she reflected, "'cause he'll be full o' -wonderment 'bout this here thing, an' Edgar mout let the right answers -slip out. Theonidas can't do that, 'cause he don't know nothin' 'bout -the answers." - -She expected Theonidas to visit her that evening to secure a bag of -corn meal that she knew he and Boyd sorely needed. She would send her -message by Theonidas, therefore, and would leave the message to take -the place of the meal. - -It was supper time when Theonidas arrived, bringing a wild turkey -gobbler and a dozen squirrels on his back. - -"Them's all right," said Judy, feeling of the game. "Tell Boyd he'd -orter 'a' saved 'em to take to Wanalah to-morrow. He'll be a -entertainin' folks there an' it 'ud 'a' been handy to have some game in -the house." - -"He ain't a thinkin' o' comin' down the mounting yit," replied the boy -in open eyed wonder. - -"I know he ain't," Judy replied. "But when you git back up there -to-night--an' you's a goin' to start back soon's you git yer -supper--he'll _be_ a thinkin' about it, an' 'twon't take much thinkin' -to set them legs o' his'n a movin'. You come an' git your supper, an' -then mosey up the mounting as fast as yer feet kin foller one another. -An' you're to tell Boyd that they's the devil to pay an' no funds, down -Wanalah way. Tell him I says he's got to git down thar' quick an' face -the music." - -"What's it all about, Mammy?" asked Theonidas with not unnatural -curiosity. - -"That ain't none o' your business," Judy replied, "an' ef you don't -know nothin' you can't git it wrong in tellin' it. You jes' say what -I's tole you to say, an' by midnight he'll be a stumblin' down the -mounting to find out what's the matter. But tell him--now _mind_, -Theonidas, an' listen to what I's a sayin'--" for the boy was reaching -across the table for a second helping of some dish he specially -relished, and Judy feared that he was not attending to her -instructions--"listen to what I's a sayin'--" - -"I's _is_ a listenin', Mammy," the boy replied. "I's heard every word." - -"Is you? Then what was it I said last?" she demanded. - -"You said as how that by midnight he'd be a stumblin' down the mounting -to find out what's the matter." - -"Right you is!" said Judy approvingly. "Now that's business, an' so is -what I'm a goin' to say. You is to tell him _not to come near Judy -Peters's place_. Tell him they's reasons. Tell him to go down t'other -road Arricktown way. It's shorter an' quicker, but tell him they's -reasons besides the shortness an' quickness. An' when you's tole him -all that tell him your Mammy says he kin count on her tell death! -That'll cheer him up, like." - - - - -XX - -THE SATISFACTION OF W. W. WEBB - - -When William Wilberforce Webb found that he had to fight for an -election which he had supposed to be securely his by virtue of his -regular nomination as the candidate of the dominant party, he hastily -called his friends and advisers together for consultation. - -In the course of the discussion it was decided that the weak spot in -Webb's campaign lay in his neglect to do anything to secure the -mountain vote. - -"We'll divide about even down here," said the shrewdest politician -among Webb's following. "You see the whole Democratic vote is just so -much withdrawn from Westover's strength among the planters, and the -Democrats seem to be in earnest this year. That leaves us with a small -but secure majority in this part of the district. The decision will -rest with the mountain vote, and so far as I can see we've done nothing -to secure that." - -"I haven't thought it necessary," answered Webb, "until now. You see -the mountain people have seemed entirely indifferent, and they seem so -now. As they gave me a big majority at the last election, I have -reckoned upon party lines to give me a like majority this time." - -"Have you seen Judy Peters?" asked one of the advisers. - -"No. I have taken the mountain vote for granted, as about three-fourths -Whig and one-fourth Democratic. You see none of us expected this -intrusion of Boyd Westover into the campaign." - -"No, none of us expected it," answered another, "but we've run up -against the unexpected, and we've got to meet it. Webb, you've got to -go up and see Judy Peters. If you please her she'll settle the election -out of hand, but if you offend her, then God save us, for no lesser -power can!" - -"I'll go," answered Webb, "but I really don't think it necessary. I had -a talk with Edgar Coffey the other day--in fact I had him dine with me -at the hotel--and he assured me that Judy Peters was taking no interest -in the campaign. He said Judy cares so little about it that even he -hadn't heard an expression of opinion from her lips. So I have taken -the normal Whig majority in the mountains for granted." - -Thereupon "Foggy"--he had some other name but nobody ever remembered -it--arose and walked twice across the floor before speaking. He was -barkeeper, constable, jailor, livery man, faro dealer, hound-master, -money lender, note shaver, and pretty nearly everything else that was -disreputable, whether official or unofficial, at the county seat, and -in his various capacities he was rightly supposed to know politics and -men as nobody else in the county did. At last he turned to Webb and -asked: - -"Was it yesterday or the day before, that you were born? Because if it -was longer ago than yesterday there really can be no excuse for your -faith in Edgar Coffey. Don't you know he was never caught telling the -truth but once in his life, and that time he was talking in his sleep -after too heavy a load of apple jack, and took it all back as soon as -he waked up? Now my advice to you is to get your walking boots on as -quick as ever you can, and go up to Judy Peters's for a consultation as -to the mountain vote. And you want to mind your eye with Judy, for if -you offend her your goose is cooked and your cake's dough." - -In accordance with this suggestion, Webb prepared himself for a journey -up the mountain road, but as he had a speaking engagement to keep, he -could not make the proposed visit until a day later. In the meanwhile, -and by way of placation, he sent a messenger with a note to Judy, in -which he wrote: - -"I feel that I have neglected my duty in not visiting you before, but I -have had my days and nights so full of work that it has really seemed -impossible until now. I am going up to-morrow to enjoy one of your -matchless suppers and have a talk with you about whatever interests -you. As for my campaign for the Senate, I know your loyalty too well to -doubt that it has your approval; and now that the intrusion of a third -candidate has rendered the result somewhat insecure in the piedmont -part of the district, I hope to interest you so far that you will help -me stir up a rousing vote in the mountains." - -Judy's sole comment on the letter was: - -"They'll be a rousin' vote in the mountings sure enough." - -Then she turned to Sapphira and with a relish in her tone, said: - -"Say, Sapphiry, you an' me's got to lay ourselves out on tomorry -night's supper. They's a candidate a comin'." - -"Is he one you's a goin' to 'lect?" - -"Yes--to stay at home. But may be you's noticed, Sapphiry, that -whenever I picks out a shoat to be turned into victuals next day, I -always gives that shoat fust chanst at the buttermilk, an' see to it as -how he kin jes' lay down all night, 'longside o' more corn 'n he could -eat in a week. They ain't much difference 'twix' candidates an' shoats -I reckon,--leastways some candidates. So you an' me's jes' got to git -up a supper fer to-morry night sich as the candidate never seen in his -life before. You go to the smoke house an' git the ham that hangs wrong -end up on the third row o' hooks, three hams from the left end. Wash it -an' put it on to bile right away so's that it'll have time to git firm -cold. They's half a shoat in the spring house, an' we'll wring the -necks o' some fryin'-size chickens to-night so's to have 'em ready. -To-morry's the reg'lar twice a week churnin' day, so's that they'll be -fresh butter an' plenty o' buttermilk ef the candidate happens to like -buttermilk. I'll set a bakin' o' bread to-morry mornin' so's we kin -have a hot loaf fer supper. As fer beat biscuit an' batter bread, we -kin make 'em when the time comes. Say, Sapphiry, le's surprise the -candidate!" - -Judy uttered that sentence with enthusiasm and with a smile on her -face. A happy thought had come to her. - -"Tain't hog-killin' time yit, nor yit 'twon't be fer more'n a month to -come, an' so nobody ain't seen no sassage sence last winter. Le's make -some, out'n the trimmin's o' that half a shoat! You an' me kin chop it -an' season it to-night an' it'll be extry superfine by supper time -to-morrow." - -"Well, you certainly is a layin' yourself out fer that there candidate, -Mammy," said Sapphira in admiration of her mother's enthusiasm. "Is you -a goin' to give him a chanst at your old peach and honey?" - -"What! peach an' honey fer that miserable wild mustard patch of a -candidate? Well, not ef I see it fust. Apple jack he'll drink, an' -it'll come out o' that there bar'l as was made out o' last year's -windfalls an' cullin's, at that. They ain't no fine flavor to that -slop, but it'll make drunk come just the same, an' I reckon that's all -a half breed like Webb's got any call to expect o' liquor. The best o' -victuals ain't none too good fer anybody as sets down to Judy Peters's -table, but politeness an' liquor goes by favor, an' I ain't got no -favor to spare fer that doggoned counterfeit-copper cuss, Webb." - -When Webb appeared, he found Judy arrayed in colors that the lilies of -the field never dared assume and that Solomon in all his glory did not -dream of. She had even put on her bracelets and her breast pin of green -glass, simulating a setting of emeralds. She had borrowed Sapphira's -earrings--great golden hoops that had cost a dollar and a quarter--and -was wearing them in honor of the occasion. - -Her gorgeousness of adornment and the barbaric lavishness of the supper -she served him, convinced Webb at the outset that her favor was -altogether his, that the mountain vote was secure, and that in spite of -all alarms his triumphant election was as certain as any human event -could be. Perhaps Judy had intended to create that impression on his -mind. Certainly she did nothing to correct or remove it, and by the -time supper was over Webb was so well satisfied with things as they -were that he did not hesitate to indulge freely in the apple jack that -Judy set out for his consumption. - -When she had got his tongue "loosened up" to her liking, and not till -then, she brought the conversation around to subjects connected with -the political campaign. Webb had not ventured to introduce those -subjects earlier. His instinct was keen enough to realize that in Judy -Peters's house Judy Peters was herself the director of the -conversation, and he had heard, till the fact was deeply impressed on -his mind, that the person who forced the talk into channels of his own -choosing was pretty sure to find himself snubbed and snuffed out by -some caustic and high-flavored utterance of her majesty the Queen of -the Mountains. - -"Tell me 'bout your campaign, William Wilberforce Webb," she said after -he had had a third or fourth helping of apple jack. Then she changed -her mind--or perhaps the change had been in her mind all the while--and -said: "No, don't bother 'bout that yit. Tell me, instid o' that, what -you's a luggin' all that name around for. I s'pose when you was a boy -they called you jes' Billy Webb. Why ain't that a good 'nough name for -you now? You see us folks up here in the mountings ain't got much -respec' nor patience like with names bigger'n the men what wears 'em. -They was wunst a feller come up here what called hisself James Augustus -de Forrest Hyde, an' we run him out'n the mountings. He come back arter -a while a callin' hisself plain Jim Hyde, an' he's been a breedin' -mules successful, like, ever since. You see when he fust come he -brought more name along than he could tote, an' that's jest what you's -a doin' with your William Wilberforce Webb. It sounds well down 'mong -the stuck ups, but 'tain't no go up here in the mountings. Us folks -likes somethin' plainer--somethin' like Boyd Westover." - -"Of course you're right, Judy," answered Webb flinching a little at the -name of his antagonist, "but when a man's parents have given him a long -name what's he to do but wear it? A man's name's a part of him." - -"Yes, an' it's that part us folks up here in the mountings don't like. -It's the fool part. Why ain't 'W. W. Webb' a good enough name fer a -one-horse vehicle like you?" - -It was the epithet rather than the question that staggered Webb, but -that it did stagger him was indicated to Judy's shrewd observation by -the fact that he took three deep draughts of the apple brandy before -answering. At last he said: - -"Well, you see, Judy--" - -"No, I don't see," she interrupted, "an' you ain't a goin' to make me -see sense in a thing what ain't got no sense in it." - -"I was going to say--" he began again. - -"Yes, I know you was. Never mind a sayin' it. Listen to me. Ef I'm to -help you in your canvass up here in the mountings, you's got to shorten -your name somehow. Mind I don't say I's a goin' to help you,"--Judy's -sturdy love of truth in the abstract prompted this qualification of -what was essentially a lie in the concrete--"but _ef_ I'm to help you, -you's got to give me a shorter name 'n William Wilberforce Webb to call -you by. You see every time I try to say anything 'bout you my mouth -gits so choked up, like, with that durned worm fence of a name that the -rest o' the words won't come out nohow." - -"I'm sorry, Judy, awfully sorry that my name offends you. Just call me -Billy hereafter." - -"That's all right for me," answered Judy, "but you was enominated by -the name of William Wilberforce Webb, an that's the way it'll be wrote -on the pollin' books. How's the folks up here in the mountings to know -as how Billy Webb an' William Wilberforce Webb is the same feller? The -two don't sound much alike. Howsomever we'll try an' manage that. Now -tell me 'bout how things is a goin' down plantation ways." - -In the embarrassment created by Judy's critical reflections upon his -name, Webb had filled his large tumbler again with the insidious -intoxicant, forgetting to add water, and had taken several swigs of the -"reverend spirits," which is what Virginians always called undiluted -brandy or whiskey. Judy had observed the fact but had not discouraged -it. Her son, Daniel Webster, was at home that night to put Webb to bed -if need be, and meanwhile she wanted to find out from Webb's -indiscretion what she had no hope of learning in any other way, namely, -"all about the gal that's mixed up in the matter." - -To that end she interrupted Webb many times, checking his tendency to -indulge in generalities and holding him down to facts. He told her how -greatly Boyd Westover's intrusive nomination had disturbed what had -promised to be a "walk-over campaign"; how the refusal of Colonel -Conway to sign Boyd's nomination paper was exciting suspicion, and much -else of interest to which Judy paid no heed. She harked back instead to -the Conway matter. - -"What was the matter with Conway?" she asked. "Has him an' young -Westover had any fallin' out?" - -Webb had attained that condition of alcoholic indiscretion in which the -impulse is to be confidential and to say things far better left unsaid. -He unbosomed himself. - -"Well, you see, Judy," he said, "there are some things we don't -mention, but you're a friend of mine, Judy, and you're entitled to my -confidence. You see it's this way. The talk is that Boyd Westover and -Colonel Conway's daughter Margaret were engaged to be married, when -Westover committed--or was accused of committing the crime of which he -was convicted and for which he was sentenced to the penitentiary. Some -say she stood by him and he threw her over; some suggest that he -couldn't explain things to her satisfaction--that she asked him -questions he couldn't answer; some say he went back to Wanalah eager to -marry the girl, and she threw him over because she didn't believe in -his innocence. You see, Judy, he is, after all's said and done, only a -pardoned criminal, and his pardon was based only on the confession of a -poor demented fellow who has since been sent to Staunton as a lunatic. -Anyhow it's plain that Colonel Conway believes Boyd Westover to be -guilty, just as I do and as a good many other folks down our way do. If -he isn't guilty, why's he hiding himself? Why don't he come into the -district and face the music, instead of leaving that little monkey, -Carley Farnsworth, to do everything for him? You never saw Carley -Farnsworth, did you, Judy? Of course you didn't. Well, he's a little -jackanapes of a doctor that's equally ready to give his blue pills by -the mouth or at the point of a pistol. Boyd Westover has put him -forward to overawe and intimidate everybody; but the Democrats will -hold their vote this year and with your help, Judy, we'll make this -election memorable." - -"I don't know jest what that last word means, Billy, but after what -you's been a tellin' me you kin bet your next winter's meat I'll have a -hand in this here 'lection." - -Judy never made promises that she did not fulfil. But if a candidate -misinterpreted the phrases she used in making promises, she stoutly -held that the fault was his and not hers. - -"My words is good for what they call fer," she was accustomed to say, -"but good money don't stand fer no counterfeits." - -When she had got all she wanted out of Webb, she sent that worthy to -bed, satisfied in his soul with things as they were, and as confident -of the mountain vote in his behalf as of the excellence of Judy's -cookery and the exhilaration that resided in her apple jack. - - - - -XXI - -FLAGS FLYING - - -Judy was right in her reckoning as to the effect of her blind message -upon the mood and movements of Boyd Westover. It was not far from -midnight when Theonidas reported what his mother had said, and although -the night was one of extreme darkness and a drizzling rain was falling, -Boyd Westover set out at once to stumble down the precipitous mountain -path to the scarcely less precipitous mountain road three miles away, -and thence down, down, down, to whatever level the road might -ultimately reach. - -As he had never journeyed over that road before, and as its perils by -night were very real and very great, Theonidas besought him to postpone -the start until the dawn, but he refused to heed, and bidding the boy -transfer the camp equipments to Judy Peters's house, to await orders, -set off with the energy of a madman. Yet he had never been saner in all -his life or in better condition to meet difficulty. - -The delphic character of Judy's message left him, of course, in doubt -as to the occasion of the talk about himself and to his detriment in -his own neighborhood, but from the first he had not a shadow of doubt -as to the substance and subject of that talk. He knew without telling -that his fellow men had found some occasion--he could not guess -what--for discussing his character and conduct and for recalling to his -disadvantage his conviction of crime, his pardon and all the rest of it. - -But he faced this sort of thing now in very different mood from that -which had been his a few weeks before. Where before his impulse had -been to shrink away from the horror, his mood now was to seek it out, -to dare it, to defy it, to fight it with all the determination of a -vigorous manhood aroused to self defence and not averse to vengeance. -Where before he had instinctively sought solitude as a refuge, his -impulse now was to seek the haunts of his fellow men, to challenge the -criticism that had before so appalled him, to face the world with head -erect and dare Fate to meet him hand to hand, foot to foot, eye to eye -in combat. - -The simple fact was that he had ceased to be morbid. In his life up -there among the mountain tops he had regained his health of mind and -body. In his contests with Nature's forces and his triumph over them in -a thousand petty ways, he had become normal again. He was no longer the -introspective, morbidly self-conscious victim of adverse circumstance -that Judy Peters had found him to be, but a strong man rejoicing in his -strength, a Westover of Wanalah who shrank from no danger and blanched -in no foe's presence. He tramped down the mountain through six or seven -hours of darkness in eager quest of those malignities from which he had -before sought escape in a refuge of solitude. He wanted now to hear and -combat the criticism from the very thought of which he had before been -moved to flee in something like terror. - -It was in this mood that he encountered the first news of what had -happened. It presented itself in the shape of one of Carley -Farnsworth's nominating placards, tacked to the great hewn log posts of -a gate that spanned the road, and Westover, after nearly twenty miles -of tramping, came upon it about sunrise. He could not imagine what to -make of it, and after a minute's consideration he dismissed it as -somebody's practical joke--a part perhaps of that "devil to pay" in his -own neighborhood of which Judy Peters had sent him warning. - -But as he continued his journey he found the thing repeated on every -gatepost, on every conspicuous tree by the roadside, and all over the -front of a blacksmith's shop which he had to pass. - -There was nobody in the shop to answer questions at that early hour, -but at that point the road forked, one arm of it leading to Wanalah and -the other to Chinquapin Knob, the home of Carley Farnsworth. It was -only three miles from that point to Wanalah, and it was full five miles -to Chinquapin Knob, but, weary as his legs ought to have been and were -not, after his twenty odd miles of tramping over rough roads, he turned -his face not toward Wanalah but in the opposite direction, resolving to -take breakfast with Carley Farnsworth at Chinquapin Knob. He quickened -his pace too, after a glance at his watch. - -"It's half-past six," he said to himself, "and Carley has the barbaric -habit of breakfasting at eight. I must do the five miles in an hour and -a half, if I don't want a breakfast of leftovers, and this morning I -don't." - -As he trudged on up a glutinous red clay hill road, it began to rain -again in dismal fashion, but the fact did not depress him. - -"It'll make the clay road soapy," he reflected, "so I must put a little -more vim into my leg motions if I'm to do the trick on time." - -With that he added ten or a dozen steps per minute to his pace and -thought no more about the matter. - -Boyd Westover was himself again. That was all. - -Tree after tree, as he passed on, confronted him with a repetition of -the announcement that "We the undersigned, deeming it desirable that," -etc., etc., "hereby nominate Boyd Westover, Esq., of Wanalah, for -election as the representative of this Senate district in the upper -house of the Legislature, and we appeal to the pride and patriotism of -our friends, fellow citizens and neighbors," and so on to the end of -the chapter of Carley Farnsworth's free flowing rhetoric. Westover did -not pause to look at any of them. There was no need. He had already -learned what the placards proclaimed, and he had already observed the -conspicuous absence of Colonel Conway's name from the list of those who -thus urged his election. He could no more guess the meaning of its -absence than others had been able to do, but he was not surprised by -the fact. In view of Colonel Conway's failure to call upon him during -the days of his late stay at Wanalah, he would have been astonished if -that gentleman's name had appeared on the paper. But his mood was not -now what it had been before. He was no longer disposed to be submissive -even to Fate, or to reconcile himself to its unjust decrees. As he -strode onward at the pace he had set himself he reflected: - -"Of course Colonel Conway was under no obligation to call upon me, -except the obligation of old friendship, and that he was free to regard -as cancelled, if he chose. And of course he was under no obligation to -sign that nominating paper, if he did not wish. But he knew that his -failure to call upon me was a conspicuous neglect to which others would -attach importance, and he knew that his refusal to sign the paper would -be everywhere interpreted as an accusation that must put shame upon me. -I have a right to demand a greater explicitness of accusation, and I -will. His silence does me a greater hurt than any other man's utterance -could. I have a right to challenge it on the ground of its injustice. I -have a right to insist that he shall speak, and I will make that demand -and enforce it." - -Obviously Boyd Westover had recovered his vigor and was again fit to -call himself by the name his forebears had borne for generations -past--Westover of Wanalah--a name which in that community had always -stood for virility, courage and uncompromising honor; a name that had -meant secure peace to those who deserved peace and quick war to those -who were hostilely disposed; a name that had always represented what is -best in manhood, both in its tenderly forbearing gentleness of impulse -and its relentless strength of purpose. - -As he approached Chinquapin Knob the evidences of his candidacy rapidly -multiplied. The outer gate of Carley Farnsworth's plantation was -plastered all over with the nomination placards, and as the house came -into view Boyd saw a great flagstaff there carrying in the breeze three -long tailed streamers on which, as he presently made out, were -inscribed the legends: - -"For Senator--Boyd Westover!" - -"Vote for a Gentleman!" - -"Westover of Wanalah!" - -"I don't understand it," Westover reflected as he climbed the last hill -and saw by a glance at his watch that he was a quarter of an hour ahead -of his scheduled time, "I don't understand it, but obviously I'm a -candidate for Senator and with equal obviousness I'm in for a fight if -I am to win. So much the better. I don't care a fig about the -Senatorship, but I'll enjoy the fight. I'm in the mood for it. And -besides I like to win the game, whatever the stake may be. I'll fight -for this election as I never fought for anything before in my life. I -wonder who the other fellow is, anyhow--my opponent?" - -Clearly his twenty-five mile walk, made between midnight and breakfast -time, had not robbed Boyd Westover of any of the vigor of mind and -temper that were his by inheritance and that the mountains had given -back to him. - -"I'm almost famished," he said to himself. "It suddenly occurs to me -that I was out after a catamount last night and forgot all about my -supper. I wonder if Carley has a roe herring for my breakfast. Anyhow -he'll have a lot of other good things." - -As he finished his wondering he entered the house grounds at Chinquapin -Knob, and Carley Farnsworth, who was smoking his before-breakfast pipe -in the porch, caught sight of him. - -Their greetings and questions were like shots from a rapid fire gun, an -implement of slaughter which had not then been invented by the devilish -ingenuity of greed in the service of murder. - -Out of the cross fire Carley Farnsworth managed to extract the -information that his friend had been tramping since midnight with a -stomach empty since noon of the preceding day. - -"Good!" he exclaimed. "Excellent! You're altogether fit. You're in -shape or you never could have done that. But I won't answer any -question you can conceivably ask"--for Boyd had already begun a -clamorous catechism as to what it all meant--"until we've had breakfast -and a pipe. Enos!" addressing a negro boy, "go to the kitchen and tell -Elsie there'll be a lot of trouble at Chinquapin Knob if breakfast -isn't on the table in five minutes,--do you hear?" - -"Now tell me, Carley, what all this means," pleaded Westover. - -"I'll do nothing of the kind until after breakfast," answered the -other. "I'm a doctor you know, and I have the honor to be the family -physician at Wanalah. By the way, Boyd, you've got three cases of -typhoid in your lower quarters, and as I suspected the well I've -ordered it filled up, and the negroes down there are carrying their -water half a mile or so. That isn't what I wanted to talk about. As -your family physician I have your health in charge. You're in superb -condition now, and it's my business to keep you so. You've made a long -tramp on an empty stomach--a very unwise thing to do, but as a doctor -I'm used to that sort of thing. There wouldn't be any serious work for -us doctors to do, if people generally were wise. But you've made a -tremendous draft upon your bank account of vigor, and it is time for -you to make a deposit to keep the account good. You need breakfast, -before you burden your mind even with anything I have to say. And by -the way, Johnny is bringing in the breakfast two whole minutes before -the time. There's the loaf of hot light bread, and the roe herrings and -the biscuits and the batter bread. There's a cold ham on the dresser -and the batter cakes or waffles or something of that kind will come in -later. Kizzy, my housekeeper, is making the coffee; she always does -that the last thing in order that it may be fresh. She frequently -utters the dictum, 'Coffee ain't no good ef you don't drink it while -the aromatics is in it.' I don't know where she got that word, but -there is always a supply of delicious 'aromatics' in Kizzy's coffee. -Come. Here's a cold jowl if you care for it, and there's sausage before -you, and liver and chidlings--you see I killed half my hogs the other -day. Eat your breakfast and make it a good one. If you don't I'll -refuse to tell you any of the interesting things you're so anxious to -hear about." - - - - -XXII - -AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE - - -When the breakfast was over and, with long-stemmed pipes alight, the -two friends foregathered in front of a blazing fire--for the drizzling -autumn day was chill--Westover again demanded to know "what all this -thing means." - -"You must have seen some of the placards?" - -"_Some_ of them? It seems to me that all the woods have been papered -with them. But what does it mean?" - -"Oh, that's obvious enough. It means that a goodly number of your -neighbors and friends have nominated you for Senator, moved thereto by -a conviction that the intelligence and character of the district -deserve a better representative than William Wilberforce Webb." - -Farnsworth was careful not to suggest Judy Peters's initiative or -interest in the matter. That was a secret between him and her. - -The mention of Webb's name as that of his opponent, started Westover -out of his chair, and as he stood upon the hearth he said, in tones -that were kept in subjection by sheer force of a resolute will: - -"Oh, then it is Webb I'm running against. That puts a new face on the -affair. I like that. Against him I'll make a whirlwind campaign. But -how on earth did that fellow manage to secure a nomination by so -respectable a party as the Whigs?" - -"Chiefly by general neglect. He worked for the nomination and all the -rest of us let it go to him by default. That's the substance of the -story." - -"Well," answered Westover, "the news that he is my opponent gives me a -new and eager interest in the campaign. We'll get up squirrel stews and -barbecues, late as the season is, and militia musters and every other -kind of thing that draws men together, and I'll make my little, red hot -speech at all of them. Is there anything in sight?" - -"Nothing available, so far as your presence is concerned. This is Court -day, of course, and I'm going to make a speech--" - -"So am I," interjected Westover. - -"But how can you? You've tramped all night and I've ordered a bath and -a bed for you." - -"Thank you sincerely. I'll enjoy the bath and the bed some other time. -To-day I'm going to the Court House with you. I'll ride one of your -plugs, if you don't mind, and may be you'll send a boy over to Wanalah -with a note to my overseer. I want him to send a horse to the Court -House to meet me--a real horse that I'll have a fight with every time I -come to a gate." - -Carley Farnsworth did not answer immediately. Instead he walked into -the dining room under pretence of refilling his pipe--really for the -sake of a good chuckle over his friend's condition. - -"He's as fit as a fiddle," he said to himself. "He's full of vigor and -full of fight. He's Westover of Wanalah again, and that's what I've -been working for. That mountain air, and the hunting and fishing and -rough tramping have done more for him than all the calomel, quinine and -strychnine I've got in my saddle bags could do. It's great! And we'll -crown the cure--Judy and I--by making him Senator. Really Judy is a -great diagnostician in her way. It was she who found out what was the -matter with Boyd and prescribed the remedy. I used to think she had -only one medicine, that apple jack was her panacea. I know better now." - -Then, with his pipe refilled, he returned to the parlor only to find it -empty. Going to the porch he saw Westover astride a three-year-old -filly that had been turned loose to graze in the house grounds. Without -saddle or bridle the young man was gaily cavorting on the spirited -mare's back and rapidly reconciling her to control of his will. - -"Well, certainly he's fit," muttered the little doctor. "There aren't -many men in Virginia who would prefer that sort of thing to a -comfortable bed after an all night's tramp down a mountain side, over -the roughest roads that adverse natural conditions, supplemented by the -evil ingenuity of road supervisors, ever managed to create. Houp la! -I'll dismiss him as cured. But we'll go on and elect him." - -Then, as the negro boy for whom he had sent appeared, Farnsworth called -out: - -"I say, Boyd, I've a boy waiting for you here. Come and give him -instructions." - -And when Westover reached the steps, his host added: - -"Sam may as well bring your horse to the Court House himself. It is -hardly at all out of his way in coming back. So give him your -instructions." - -"Very well. Go to my overseer, Sam, and tell him to send Rob Roy to me -by you. And mind you, you are to lead him. If you try to ride him he'll -pitch you head first into the deepest mud puddle he can find, and then -he'll go galloping home again. Tell the overseer to put the -double-bitted snaffle and curb bridle on him and the lightest flat -saddle in the stables. And mind, Sam, keep the stirrups crossed over -the saddle. If you don't, Rob Roy will mount himself and ride away -heaven knows where." - -"Yes, sir," answered Sam. "I hear, an' I'll be keerful. I prides myself -on ridin' anything they is short'n a hurricane, but I's contumaciously -opposed to gittin' on the back o' that there Rob Roy o' yourn. He's -wuss'n a hurricane an' a' earthquake an' a 'clipse o' de moon all put -togedder. Dat's my jedgment o' his pussonal character generally. He's -wuss now, o' course." - -"Why, Sam?" - -"'Cause he's done been stabled up fer free or four months, now, 'thout -no exercise 'ceptin' bein' led to de branch fer water." - -"Do you know that, Sam? Have they kept that horse--" - -"Yes, sir, I knows it. Yo' see dey ain't nobody on Wanalah plantation -dat dares git on dat dar hoss's back, an' 'taint much fun to exercise a -hoss by leadin' of him. 'Sides dat--" - -Sam faltered, and his master interposed: - -"Go on--'sides what." - -"Well, 'taint nothin', sir." - -"All right. I like to hear about nothings. Who is she, Sam?" - -"Who's who, Mastah?" - -"Why, the girl you've been courting over at Wanalah? Of course I know -you've been stealing a mule out of the stables and riding over there -every night for a month without asking my permission. But I don't know -who the girl is or whether she's worthy of you, Sam." - -"'Fore de Lawd, Mastah, I ain't--" - -"Don't forswear yourself, Sam. I know all about it. I visit my stables -every night, and I've missed you and the mule. I don't mind, only, if -you had asked me, I'd have let you have a better mule and a saddle. -Never mind that now. Take the mare Medora, and get away from here. -Bring your Mas' Boyd's horse to the Court House, and mind you, don't -stop at Wanalah to sweetheart with Patty Jane--for you see after all I -know all about this thing." - -"And Sam, tell my body servant to send me some clothes by you," added -Westover. - -When the boy had gone, in some confusion over what seemed to him his -master's supernatural knowledge of things he had carefully guarded -against discovery, Farnsworth explained to his companion: - -"I always take pains to know what goes on on the plantation, and I -never mention it except in sensational ways, calculated to impress the -African mind with the conviction that as a doctor I am possessed of -strange, occult powers of discovery against which it is useless to -practise the ordinary arts of concealment. It's a handy way to keep -things in order on a plantation, the master of which has to attend to a -medical practice. Now we must be off. Here are our horses. I've -assigned to your use the maddest piece of horseflesh I possess. It's a -mare that broke my overseer's arm a year ago, and when harnessed to a -vehicle for purposes of subjugation and discipline kicked the vehicle -into kindling wood and scrap iron and then kept on kicking till there -was nothing left on her but a collar. She'd have kicked that off too, I -reckon, if it had been behind her shoulders. She has been a good deal -tamed since then, but she still has spirit enough to satisfy any -reasonable rider. You, of course, are unreasonable. What's your fancy -anyhow, Boyd, for riding cataclysms and cyclones instead of -serious-minded animals that know their business and do it docilely?" - -"Oh I don't know. I like struggle, contest, and all that. I like to -match my wits against brute strength. I like--well I suppose I like a -fight." - -As he spoke the two mounted. - -"There's no trace of neurasthenia in him, anyhow," thought Farnsworth. -Aloud he said: - -"All that is very fortunate, for just now you've got all the fight -ahead of you that any reasonable person of fighting temperament could -desire." - -"Tell me all about it, Carley. I've been trying to worm the facts out -of you ever since I got to Chinquapin Knob." - -"Oh, the thing's simple enough. You see Webb hates you of course, and -he's afraid of you. When he secured the regular nomination he thought -he had his fox by the tail. There was only the Democratic candidate, -Sam Butler, opposing him, and of course in so strong a Whig district as -this is, that candidacy didn't count. But when we nominated you as an -independent Whig, things began to cloud up in Webb's sky. He got ugly, -but--well, he was made to understand that there were limits to what it -would be safe to say about you." - -"I understand, Carley," said Boyd, grasping his hand warmly; "I -understand, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for a -friendship that has no bottom so far as plummet line can discover. But -all that's my job now. Go on, I want to hear." - -"Well, he hasn't dared say a thing in any open fashion, but there are a -lot of his followers whom no gentleman can afford to honor by slapping -their jaws or kicking them off the steps of a barroom, and through them -Webb has managed to circulate insinuations." - -"Of what sort?" asked Westover quickly. - -"It isn't easy to pin them down to a definition. They have mainly taken -the form of questions. 'Where is Boyd Westover, anyhow? Why doesn't he -present himself to the people he asks to vote for him? What's he afraid -of? Why didn't his oldest and best friend Colonel Conway sign the paper -nominating him? Does Colonel Conway doubt his innocence after all? -Isn't he satisfied with the other fellow's confession? Or does he think -the confession of a lunatic insufficient?' These are some of the -questions set afloat, nobody knows how or by whom." - -"What are the others?" demanded Westover with set teeth and a jaw that -seemed to have added to its massiveness by reason of the determination -of the mind behind it. "Go on. Tell me the whole story. I want to know -just what I have got to fight." - -"That's right, and I'll be with you in the fight. We'll run these -questions down till we make it unsafe to ask them. I've already made a -good many people quit asking them by notifying them that I should treat -any repetition of the questions as an assertion for which the -questioner could be and should be and would be held responsible; -confound that grammar rule about can and will and could and should and -would, I never could remember it, but I've given notice to all and -singular that I recognize no distinction between insinuation and -assertion in such a case as this, and that--oh, well, you know what a -notice of that kind suggests." - -"Oh, yes, I know, and I thank you. But you're evading my question, -Carley. What is the other insinuation? I quite understand that you -shrink from mentioning it, but you must. I have a right to demand that -much from a friendship so loyal as yours has proved itself to be. Go -on. Tell me the worst." - -"I will. But the thing has been so subtilely put forth that I've found -it impossible even to find anybody who has asked the question. Indeed -everybody who has helped to circulate the slander has done so not by -asking if there was truth in it but by declaring his utter disbelief in -it. I never knew anything so cleverly managed in my life, or anything -so malignant." - -"You haven't yet told me what the scandal was," said Boyd, with lips so -tightly compressed that the purple had all gone out of them. - -"In substance it amounted to this, that you had in some way treated -Colonel Conway's daughter with unchivalrous disrespect--that you had -put some unforgivable slight upon her--nobody suggests what. In fact -the thing is so vague and shadowy and unsubstantial that it is -difficult even to define it. But Colonel Conway's refusal to join with -us in nominating you has lent a sort of color to it, and this thing, -utterly unsubstantial as it is, has done more than all else to -embarrass our campaign. In your absence it has been impossible to meet -it and throttle it, for nobody but you could have a shadow of authority -to question Colonel Conway on such a subject." - -"I understand," answered Boyd; "I'll deal with that matter in a way -that will satisfy myself at any rate, and possibly my friends also. -Thank you for all. I know the situation now, and knowing it, I think I -know how to meet it." - -As he said this the pair were entering the Court House village, and -their road took them within a few feet of the house and law office of -Sam Butler, the Democratic candidate for Senator. As they passed, -Butler stepped out into the porch accompanied by Edgar Coffey, and -engaged in the earnest end of a conversation. They could not avoid -hearing Coffey say: - -"Well, that's what Judy tole me to tell you, an' ef you do as she says, -she'll take keer o' the rest." - -Neither Westover nor Farnsworth said a word until they had passed well -beyond hearing. Then Westover exclaimed: - -"I wonder what on earth that means! Surely Judy Peters isn't going to -throw the mountain vote for him." - -"Very certainly not," answered Farnsworth, but he said nothing of his -visit to the Queen of the Mountains or of her initiative in Boyd -Westover's nomination. - -"No," answered Westover, recalling Judy's last message to himself, -"that isn't even one of the possibilities." But he did not explain the -grounds of his confidence. - -After a little, as the two rode into the stable yard of the hotel to -put up their horses, Westover said: - -"Nevertheless I'd give something handsome to know what that meant." - -"So would I," answered Farnsworth. - -They were destined to find out, before the campaign ended, but not yet. - - - - -XXIII - -COURT DAY - - -Court Day in old Virginia was an institution. It happened once a month -and it served all the purposes of club, exchange, political assemblage, -muster, and social meeting time. Pretty nearly the whole adult male -population of the county was sure to be present at the county seat on -that day, so that the Virginian who wanted to see anybody, whether to -collect a note or give one, to make a contract or to cancel one, to -arrange a religious meeting or a barbecue, to trade horses or to -exchange views concerning the latest philosophy, to make speeches or to -listen to them, was sure to find present the people who were in any way -related to the matter he had in hand. Those leisurely folk never -thought of bothering themselves to visit anybody on business. Whatever -the business was, it could wait until Court Day, and it did. - -Sometimes there was political speaking or the like on Court Day, but -not always. The orators had need of an audience, and if there was -anything of interest going on in Court, everybody was sure to be there -and the orators had nobody to address. - -It was so on this occasion. It was a quarterly Court--a grand jury term -of the County Court--and there was a murder trial of sensational -character in progress. As a result everybody who could find a square -foot of space within the Court room, in which to bestow his person, -sought place there the moment the Court opened, and held it tenaciously -throughout the session. The struggle for place was all the greater -because Jack Towns, just returned from his Rocky Mountain trip, was -present as attorney and counsellor for the accused man, and Jack -Towns's eloquence was something that everybody wanted to hear. Besides -that, his skill in confusing a witness and reducing him to pulp was -something that nobody wanted to miss. Jack was a lawyer whose equipment -lacked little of perfection. His learning was adequate, his sagacity -almost preternatural, and when he had a case to conduct the -Commonwealth's Attorney was in a tremor of blue funk from the -beginning, the Judge was alertly mindful lest his judgment should be -unduly swayed by persuasive eloquence, and the populace was in the -humor that possesses an audience when a great star and a great company -are to present a great drama or tragedy or comedy as the case may be. - -Jack was too deeply engaged with "the work of saving a human life," as -he said, to talk for more than half a minute with Westover, when the -two met at the stables of the inn. - -"I'm going to Wanalah for the night," he said. "Then and there we can -talk. At present I have only time to tell you that you are, three times -over, the richest man in Virginia and that your wealth includes a -practically limitless supply of ready money. I haven't time now to tell -you more, but I tell you this in the interest of your campaign. Give -all the jamborees you think of; let the money flow like water, and I'll -take care of the results." - -"But, Jack, I'm not buying my election, and--" - -"Of course not. I understand all that. I only want you to know that for -legitimate expense your bank account is ample. Now I must go. I've a -human life in my hands. I'll be with you at Wanalah to-night. Go home -when you get ready. I'll be there when I can. So long."[1] - - -[Footnote 1: The expression "so long," as here used, is not an -anachronism. It was in use in Virginia, and in well nigh universal use -in South Carolina before the war. Its adoption at the North came much -later, I believe. Mr. James Russell Lowell once suggested to me that it -might be a corruption of "salaam."--Author.] - - -In Virginia in those old, sunny days, hospitality was taken for granted -in that confident fashion, and the welcome always justified the -assumption. - -But before the court was opened, and during its noon recess, which was -shortened to three-quarters of an hour because of the importance of the -case at bar, Boyd Westover found it difficult to move about, because of -the besetting eagerness of his friends to greet him. In answer to -questions he frequently repeated a little impromptu speech. - -"I was in utter ignorance of my nomination until I saw placards this -morning. I haven't even yet found out what it means, and I really care -nothing for the place. I'd far rather stay at Wanalah and look after my -affairs. But as my friends have nominated me I'm a candidate and I -shall stay in the race till the polls close on election day. I learn -that some persons--I don't know who--have been suggesting things to my -detriment. I am here to ask about that, to challenge every insinuation -against my character and every criticism of my conduct. I stand ready -to answer. I ask only that those who seek to injure me shall come out -into the open, make themselves known and put their accusations into -definite form so that they may be met and either refuted or -established. I don't relish attacks in the dark or from behind masks, -and I am going to make known my opinion of the sneaks and cowards who -make such attacks. I'm going to attend every gathering of my fellow -citizens between now and election day, and at every one of them I'm -going to challenge any and every body as I do now, who has aught to say -against my character or my conduct to say it openly like a man. If any -one does that, I shall reply in such fashion as I think appropriate in -each case. I stand before the community as Westover of Wanalah, a man -conscious of his own rectitude and prepared to vindicate the honor of -the name he bears at all times, against all comers and at all hazards. -That is all I have to say, and it ought to be enough to satisfy -honorable men and to silence sneaks and slanderers." - -So far as the men of honest mind who were gathered together that day -were concerned, this challenge seemed abundantly satisfying. Many who -had entertained doubts because of the candidate's absence, abandoned -their doubts and frankly declared their purpose to support Westover at -the election. As for Webb and his friends, they found themselves sorely -embarrassed. Their opportunity had lain in Westover's unexplained -absence. His appearance now, and his frank and manly challenge, robbed -them of their weapons and their ammunition. They dared not say aught -that might be construed into an accusation, and if any of them -insinuated aught to Westover's discredit he was sure of a peremptory -challenge to say just what he meant. - -It was obvious to Webb and his supporters that something must be done -to meet and neutralize the effect of Boyd Westover's presence and -defiance. They still had "regularity" behind them. Webb was the -regularly nominated candidate of the Whig party, strongly dominant in -that region, and presumably he would receive the regular party vote. -Then, too, as he explained to his partisans, most of the Democrats, who -would of course support their own party candidate, were men friendly to -Westover, whose votes were so many subtracted from the support that -would otherwise be his. - -"I regard Sam Butler's candidacy as a thing altogether in my interest," -he said confidently, "and then," he jubilantly added, "I have -satisfactory assurance that the whole mountain vote will be mine, and -so I regard my election as a foregone conclusion, a triumphant -assurance of a future that holds human affairs securely within its -grasp." - -That was a phrase dear to Webb's soul. He had spent half a night in -concocting it and committing it to memory. "You know I've been up in -the mountains, and I've been royally entertained by Her Majesty the -Queen." - -"Has she definitely promised you the mountain vote?" asked one who had -a passion for exactitude. - -"Practically, yes. You know Judy Peters talks in parables and never -commits herself; but a wink is as good as a nod to a blind horse, and -her parting words to me left nothing of assurance to be desired. Now -what I want to say is this: My election is secure, but I want my -constituency to include as large a proportion of the planters, men of -my own class, as possible, and so I have accepted Sam Butler's -challenge to meet him and divide time at the Barbecue he's going to -give over at Fighting Creek, the day after to-morrow. I suppose -Westover will be there by Sam's invitation, and between Sam and me he -won't be left a leg to stand on." - -"Well, may be so," muttered Foggy, whose experience in politics had -bred chronic scepticism in his mind; "but Boyd Westover has been -talkin' right out in meetin' to-day, an' besides--" - -"What is it, Foggy?" - -"Well, Jack Towns is here, you know, an' if he happens to make a speech -over there he'll tangle you up like a fish-line after you've caught an -eel on it." - -"I'm not afraid of him," answered Webb, confidently. - -"So much the worse," muttered Foggy. "Maybe he wouldn't do you up so -badly if you were properly afraid of him. However, we must take things -as we find 'em, and candidates likewise, and I'll be over at Fighting -Creek with a lot o' fellows to shout for you, Webb." - -When Court opened and everybody made a rush for places in the court -house, Boyd strolled over to the inn whose proprietor insisted upon -calling it a hotel, and, going to the room he had taken there for the -day, threw himself upon the bed for a sleep of two or three hours. At -the end of that time he arose refreshed, took a cold sponge bath, and -proceeded to change his rough mountain costume for the more -conventional garments his body servant had sent him from Wanalah. After -the fashion of the time and country, these consisted of a "pleated -bosom" shirt, a damask silk vest, a long tailed broadcloth coat, a pair -of "doe-skin" trousers, white socks with silken clocks, and a pair of -"low quarter" shoes with broad silken ties. It was certain that before -mounting his horse again for the journey to Wanalah, Boyd Westover -would shed the shoes at any rate and don his high-topped boots instead, -but for the present he felt a social obligation upon him to dress -conventionally; for he had found at the hotel a note from Major -Magister, the leader of the bar, saying: - -"Of course you'll dine with me at four o'clock, Westover. The Judge -will be present, and I hope Jack Towns and the Commonwealth's Attorney -also, prepared to reconcile the differences created by this trial, and -become friends again. But none of these is what I mean when I say 'of -course' you'll dine with me. The 'of course' takes the much more -pleasing form of a charming young gentlewoman from Boston,--Miss -Millicent Danvers,--to whom we all want to show every possible -attention, and especially to introduce you as a typical young gentleman -of Virginia. She is with us only for the day. So don't send any -excuses, but come in your own proper person." - -Remembering that Boyd Westover was a gallant, hot-blooded young -Virginian, and that it had been many moons since he had enjoyed -association with young women of his class and caste, it is easy to -understand the eagerness with which he welcomed this opportunity to -"get himself civilized again," as he framed the thought in his mind. - -"From Boston?" he reflected. "I suppose she'll have gold-rimmed -spectacles and talk philosophy. I never met a Boston girl, so this will -be a new experience. After all, I suppose women are very much alike, no -matter where they come from. Doubtless this one has pulses, just as -other girls have, and perhaps I shall be able to put my finger on them. -At any rate it will interest me to try. My opportunities promise to be -good. Major Magister and the Judge and Jack Towns and the -Commonwealth's Attorney are sure to fall foul of each other over -abstruse law points that the rest of us know nothing about, and that -will leave mine hostess and the Boston maid to me." - -It was in this mood of pleasurable but by no means enthusiastic -anticipation that Westover entered the home of his host, half an hour -after the jury had returned a verdict of "not guilty," in the case of -Jack Towns's client--a verdict that was based rather upon the absence -of evidence that Jack Towns had succeeded in excluding than upon the -evidence actually presented at the trial. - - - - -XXIV - -A PERFECT WOMAN--AND A MAN - - -When his hostess presented him to Millicent Danvers, Westover could -scarcely believe that this was the young woman he had been invited to -meet. He had constructed a portrait of her in his imagination and she -did not satisfy any of the details of the picture. He had expected to -find her tall, bony, Roman-nosed, and sallow. She was instead of -moderate height, plump, with delicately moulded Grecian features, and a -complexion of pink and white that had no suggestion of sallowness in -it. He had expected spectacles; instead he found a pair of gray-blue -eyes that looked into his own with candor and fearless trustfulness, -like those of a child of four or five years of age, and yet with the -confidence and courage that come only of good breeding allied to -perfect innocence. He had prepared himself to meet an aggressive, self -assertive manner; instead he found all the shyness of young girlhood, -all the modesty of maiden inexperience, allied with a frank, -self-respecting truthfulness that was fearless because of its -confidence of right intent. - -They talked, of course, about the young woman's impressions of Virginia. - -"It is lovely," she said. "You know it is all a surprise, an -astonishment to me." - -"How so? Would you mind explaining that?" - -"I cannot exactly explain it. You see it's like a pleasant dream. You -know it made you happy while you were dreaming it, and you know it -makes you happy after you're awake, but you can't tell just what it was -you dreamed or just why it made you happy. It is so elusive that you -can't grasp it and put it into words. I'm still dreaming Virginia, and -I know I shall never be able to tell anybody why the dream is so -delicious. I try to think it out sometimes, but I can't. Whenever I -make up my mind that it is because of this thing or that, I say 'No, -that isn't it.' I suppose it's a thousand little things put together. -But tell me about this election of yours. I'm talking too much about -myself and my thoughts." - -"No, you are not. The election doesn't interest me, and what you've -been saying does. Go on, please. You had more in your mind." - -"How can you know that?" she asked in genuine surprise. - -"Because you spoke of 'a thousand little things.' I wish you would tell -me about a dozen of them, or even half a dozen." - -With a world of childlike seriousness in her wide open eyes the girl -responded: - -"I suppose I ought not to have said a thousand. That was an -exaggeration, and exaggeration is as bad as any other kind of fibbing, -isn't it?" - -"In some cases, yes--in some, no. Certainly it was not so in this case. -Your phrase carried to my mind precisely the thought you had in your -own, and so it was perfectly truthful." - -"I'm glad you think so. I try always to tell the truth." - -"So I should imagine. Now will you not go on and tell me some of the -things that please you in our Virginia life? Is it so different from -your life up North? You see I have never been North." - -"Oh, yes, so different! I think most of us up North are good people, -just as I suppose most people are everywhere. But there's a -difference--a something, I don't know just what. Yes, I do, too, in -part at least, though I'm not sure I can put it into words. We live -within ourselves, and you don't. We love our friends and are kind to -them, but we aren't close to them, as people down here are. It is -because we are shy, I suppose. Our attitude toward money values is -different. I don't know that our people care more about money than you -do, but--well, we take it into account as you do not. But that isn't -what I mean. There is a certain graciousness in your ways of living, a -warmth, a color--I don't know what to call it--that fascinates me. We -are scrupulously polite to each other; you are cordially courteous -instead. I suppose that too is because we are shyer than you are. We -shrink from self revelation as you do not. I think we are really as -warm-hearted as you Virginians are, but we are more reserved." - -"You are doubtless right. I've observed that temperamental peculiarity -in the Northern men I've met. At the University there was a young man -from Boston who became my chum under rather peculiar circumstances, and -I studied him closely. Because of a certain delicacy of constitution -which rendered your Boston winters dangerous to his health, he was sent -to the University of Virginia instead of Harvard. He didn't know our -ways, and as a 'Yankee'--you know how unjustly that word has come to -have evil significance with us--he was a good deal shunned, and things -were said, and--well, it so came about that he and I became chums and -occupied a room together on the lawn." - -"Yes, I know," she answered dreamily, as if recalling a story. "But you -are suppressing the truth, Mr. Westover." - -In an astonishment that well nigh made him spring from his chair, he -asked: - -"How do you know that?" - -"Our hostess is rising," she replied with a calm dignity that was -fascinating to the young man. "We ladies must leave you gentlemen to -your wine and cigars." - -"I do not take wine," he replied, "and as for cigars I shall gladly -give them up in favor of a further conversation with you. If you -permit, I will quit the table with you." - -"There!" she exclaimed. "That's one of the 'thousand' things I spoke -of. In Virginia you gentlemen manifest a certain deference toward women -that I have seen nowhere else. It is gallantly protective, -respectfully, not servilely submissive, a tribute of strength to -weakness which carries with it no reflection upon the weakness, and to -women it is the most fascinating thing imaginable. I've expressed it -lamely, but--" and with that she took a handful of cigars from the -passing box and added: - -"At any rate your courtesy to me shall not cost you your smoke. We -won't go into the drawing room, but into the porch. The day is mild, -and I want to tell you that story." - -"Tell me first," he said as they passed into the porch, "how you happen -to know anything about it." - -"It is simple enough. I've heard my brother tell the story with -enthusiasm many, many times." - -"Your brother?" - -"Yes. Holmes Wentworth is my elder brother. My mother was married -twice, you know." - -"I see. I didn't know. If I had known--" - -"If you had known you wouldn't have spoken of the matter at all. And as -it was, you were suppressing all the interesting facts. Now I'm going -to relate them according to the gospel of Holmes Wentworth. In a -debating society one night he expressed some opinions that gave offence -to certain of the students, and some proposal of censure was made and -hotly advocated. You opposed it, declaring that debate without absolute -free speech must be a mockery. Your impassioned utterance won approval, -and the resolution was voted down with only three or four men voting -for it. They were not Virginians and--" - -"They were the sons of negro traders, every man of them," interrupted -Westover; "and for the negro trader and his belongings Virginia -gentlemen have neither recognition nor tolerance. They are the vilest--" - -He paused in search of a more effective epithet, and she spoke. - -"I know all about that," she said, "and you needn't bite an inch off -your next cigar by way of expressing yourself. Let me go on with the -story. Those 'lewd fellows of the baser sort' went down into -Charlottesville and organized a crew of ruffians to drive Holmes -Wentworth out of the University and out of Virginia. You heard of the -thing, and arming yourself with all the Colt's revolvers you could -borrow, you hurried into the town. There you found Holmes sorely beset -by a dozen armed ruffians and a crowd of other jeering dissolutes. You -pushed him up into a corner, thrust a pair of the pistols into his -hands, and took your place beside him, saying: 'If they rush us, shoot -with both hands, and _shoot to kill_; there's no good in wasting -ammunition.' Then you called out to the mob: 'Now do your worst, you -cowards! But the first man that crosses that curbstone dies the death -of the dog that he is, and we'll send some others to--' really you used -some dreadful language, Mr. Westover, which I can't repeat, though I -know it all by heart. And a little later, after the mob had quailed -before you, you swore worse than ever, ordering them to disperse or -you'd fire into them and send some of them to the place you had already -mentioned. Oh, it was glorious! But the sheriff came and drove the -crowd away. You see I know the whole story. Do you wonder that I find -things to like in Virginia? Then you took Holmes to live in the same -room with you, and after you learned to understand him as well as he -already understood you, he and you became bosom friends." - -"Thank you," he replied, throwing away a cigar that he had forgotten to -light; "but really Holmes's imagination is creative and he has made too -much of a trifle." - -"He hasn't any imagination at all," she replied; "he's the most -prosaic, literal, realistic fact mongerer imaginable, as you very well -know. But now I'm going to turn woman again and talk about myself." - -Westover thought that about the most tactful turning of a conversation -that he had ever known. But she gave him no time to wonder over it. - -"I'm staying at The Oaks, you know, with Margaret Conway. She's the -very sweetest, truest, loveliest girl I ever knew. She's fit to be the -wife of the noblest man in Virginia." - -Westover winced, and the girl observed the fact without recognizing it -in any way. Instead she went on: - -"You see she was my guest for six weeks a year ago, and I'm returning -her visit and incidentally enjoying life better than I ever dreamed -that one could do. By the way, there's to be a dance at Dr. Carver's -over at Fighting Creek, wherever that is, to-morrow night--no, it's the -next night, and as there is to be some sort of public meeting near -there that day, I suppose I shall see you at the party." - -At that moment there was a double irruption from the dining room on the -one side and the drawing room on the other, into the porch to see an -autumn sunset of peculiar gorgeousness. A little later Boyd Westover -took his leave, and bidding Jack Towns follow at his convenience, set -out for Wanalah. - -As he went he found himself thinking of Millicent Danvers with far more -admiration and greatly tenderer sentiment than he had believed himself -capable of feeling toward any woman since Margaret had been lost to him. - -"She is certainly charming," he said to himself; then correcting his -thought he said, "No, that is not the word; it is commonplace, -conventional, cheap, and nothing commonplace, conventional or cheap can -describe Millicent Danvers. She is all woman--that's it, and I can't -imagine anything better as belonging to this world or the next. She is -honest, truthful, genuine, but those are ordinary virtues, and her -virtues are not confined to the ordinary. She is sympathetic with all -things that are essentially right and of good report. Still, that is -not the secret of her charm, for many women--perhaps most women--are -all that. She has high ideals and she is loyal to them. She's the sort -of woman Jephtha's daughter is supposed to have been, and at the same -time she has all the qualities that make the story of Ruth the greatest -masterpiece of all literature. Heroism is hers, and gentleness not -less. She is a Joan of Arc and she is the most trusting child that was -ever gently dandled on one's knee. I have it! She has faith; she -believes; she trusts, and in her belief she dares and honors daring. -Heroism is to her an object of worship; devotion a divine inspiration; -truth an inborn characteristic. It is just as I said before--she is all -woman, and in all God's work he created nothing else so good or so -great as that." - -As he reached this point in his meditations he was passing the outer -gates of The Oaks plantation, and suddenly his thought reverted to -Margaret. - -"She, too, is a woman of that type," he reflected. "I do not understand -her silence, but I should be unworthy of any woman's love if I doubted -her truth. I will not doubt her. I will let no other take her place in -my heart so long as I live. She is all that Millicent Danvers is, and -to me she is more and always must be. She is the woman who gave me love -for love, and even in an estrangement that can now never be undone, I -cannot forget the troth we plighted before Fate interposed to spoil my -life. I shall not attend the dance at Dr. Carver's." - - - - -XXV - -THE GREAT RENUNCIATION - - -The drizzling rain that had marred the day had ceased during the -afternoon. The late October sun had set in a golden glory while yet -Westover lingered by the side of Millicent Danvers in the porch of the -Magister homestead. The evening that followed was irresistibly tempting -to lovers of the out of doors. - -Two men sat in converse in the porch at Wanalah. - -Two women sat in converse in the porch at The Oaks. - -The two men were Boyd Westover and Jack Towns. - -The two women were Margaret Conway and Millicent Danvers. - -The conversations in the two porches were utterly unlike in substance, -in tone and in effect. Nevertheless they were not unrelated--in part at -least. - -Jack Towns had come to give an account of his stewardship, but -Westover, with his habitual indifference to petty details, insisted -upon it that the report should be broadly general. - -"When a man has arranged a matter," he said, "involving nine seven -times over, I like him to say sixty-three at the outset, instead of -seven times nine. I hate to multiply and divide and add and subtract." - -"Why the deuce are you doing it, then?" demanded Jack. - -"As how?" - -"Why by making the wholly needless and utterly idle computation that -seven times nine is sixty-three. Why didn't you just say you liked -totals rather than the factors producing them?" - -"I suppose it is because I never studied law and therefore haven't a -well ordered mind." - -"And I don't suppose anything of the sort. I suppose it's because your -mind is fascinated with some other subject--and by the way she really -is charming--so that it wearies you to think of anything else. Perhaps -you'll feel otherwise when you hear what I have to tell you. Are you -ready to listen?" - -"Yes, certainly. Go on." - -"Very well then. That father of yours was never so wise in all his life -as when he bought all that mining land up in the Rocky Mountains. I -don't know and I can't even guess how he found out the value of what he -was buying." - -"Perhaps he didn't," said Boyd. "May be he was simply coppering on the -ace and taking the chances." - -"I had thought of that. It's the most probable solution. However that -may be, he managed to buy Golconda and Ophir and California and -Australia and the mint and the assay office all in one when he -disbursed a few thousand dollars for about the most desolate spot on -earth, a place where you not only can't raise a potato but can't even -boil one because of the altitude. It takes half an hour up there to -produce a soft-boiled egg. You can boil water in two minutes, and as it -boils it is so cool you can bathe in it half a minute later. I have -some counterfeit continental currency in a cabinet at my house, and -upon my word, if anybody had offered me all the land your father bought -for you up there in exchange for one of those old and doubly -discredited shin-plasters, I wouldn't have made the trade." - -"Then the whole thing--" - -"Nothing of the kind. I didn't say that or suggest it. I've put your -land and mining rights into a new company that already has machinery -and management and technical skill and brains established there. The -stock of that company will pay heaven only knows how many hundred per -cent. per annum in the way of dividends, and thirty-nine per cent. of -it is yours. By way of boot, as horse traders call it, I brought away -nine hundred and fifty thousand dollars in sight drafts on New York and -Boston. I tried hard to force them to make it a million just for the -name of the thing, but I couldn't because they are men of affairs with -no sense of the picturesque. And after all--" - -"What on earth am I to do with all that money?" asked Boyd in a tone of -distressed perplexity. - -"Oh, you'll manage that easily enough after you get used to having it. -And if you don't want to bother yourself about it, you needn't. I've -already invested it for you, acting under my blanket power of attorney, -so that the interest is all you'll have to look out for." - -"What have you done with it, Jack?" - -"In view of the disturbed condition of politics in this country and the -rumors of possible war, I have had something more than half of it sent -to the Barings in London to be invested in British consols and French -rentes. The rest is invested in Virginia sixes and other good, interest -paying bonds, and is in the vaults of August Belmont & Co. in New York. -By way of providing you with pocket money, I've placed twenty-five -thousand dollars to your credit in the Farmers' Bank of Virginia. -There. There isn't a seven times nine problem in that whole story for -you to wrestle with. You've got only your sixty-three to consider, and -when you grow quite sane again you can go over the detailed statements -that I shall leave with you. Now tell me, what does it mean--Colonel -Conway's attitude I refer to of course." - -"Frankly, I don't know." - -"Tell me all you do know, and perhaps I can figure out the rest. You -see it doesn't appall me to have a seven to multiply by a nine." - -"As I said before, I don't know. Colonel Conway's attitude is a puzzle -to me. Either he thinks I've done something to offend, or he doesn't. -If he thinks so, it isn't conceivable that he should sulk. It is his -habit in such cases to make an open issue of the matter. He's a -fighter, you know, and not a moody, secretive hater. If he doesn't -think I have done anything that should offend him, I cannot understand -why he does not call upon me, and especially I don't understand why he -avoided meeting me by staying away from the Court House to-day, where I -happen to know he had important business. I shall challenge his -attitude pretty soon and force some sort of explanation." - -"Yes, and by way of preparation for that, you are falling in love with -the girl from Boston. That will complicate matters charmingly. Really, -Boyd, for a man of brains, education, culture and all that, you now and -then make the most elaborately embroidered idiot of yourself I ever -knew." - -"But I'm not in love with Miss Danvers; I never saw her until to-day." - -"I quite understand that. Nevertheless after you have met her three or -four times more, you'll make the mistake of thinking yourself in love -with her, and you'll court her and she will accept you--for she's -positively daffy about you, as I easily found out after you left this -evening. Then you'll awake to the fact that after all a man's -affections are not so easily transferred as shares of stock are. You've -never told me so, but I know, nevertheless, that the one love of your -life is for Margaret Conway, and if you permit yourself to attempt a -transfer of that passion, you'll repent it in sackcloth and ashes so -long as you live. No, don't interrupt me. I'm in desperate earnest, and -I'm going to say my say out, even if it results in your ordering my -horse and bidding me be gone from Wanalah forever. Now listen to me. I -once had a case of quarrelling heirs to deal with. If they had been -left to their own devices, the whole estate they were fighting for -would have been dissipated in chancery proceedings. I went to each of -them separately and compelled each to tell me his side of the story. I -found that the whole trouble lay in a lot of mutual misunderstandings, -as most quarrels do. I multiplied seven by nine and found it made -sixty-three, and after a little I got all of them to accept sixty-three -as the product of the factors. In other words, I settled the whole -affair, merely by finding out both sides of the facts. - -"Now in this case of yours, I am satisfied that the entire trouble -arises from a mutual misunderstanding. I insist that you shall tell me -all the facts as you understand them. I shall find means of discovering -just what the facts are as the other side understands them. It is -impertinent in an extreme degree for me to inquire into the matter at -all. But in the practice of the law it is my function and duty to be -impertinent. Go on, then, and tell me the facts as you understand them." - -When Jack began his speech, Westover foresaw what was coming, and was -resentfully determined to permit no trespass of such sort upon his -privacy. But before Jack had finished, the old dream of life and love, -with Margaret for its saint and sovereign, had revived in his mind. -What if, after all, Jack Towns should be able to unravel the mystery of -Margaret's silence and open a way for him? In that moment all the love -he had cherished for Margaret surged back upon his soul in an -overwhelming flood that made all other women objects of courteous but -complete indifference. He saw clearly that no woman on earth could ever -take the place in his heart that this one woman had made her own. He -could not even conjecture how the result could be brought about, but -the very dream of it so far fascinated him that he was ready to put -aside all reserve and respond in perfect candor to Jack Towns's -impertinence. - -"I hardly know how to tell the story, Jack," he responded, "but I'll -tell it somehow, if you'll give me time. Margaret and I were brought up -together. Never mind that; it is unimportant. The time came when I -loved her and she loved me, and we told each other so. With her -father's enthusiastic consent we became engaged, and it was planned -that the marriage should take place during the late summer--as soon as -I should get the affairs of Wanalah adjusted. With that in view I went -to Richmond. You know what happened there. I wrote to Margaret many -times. I got no word of reply. I hoped for her sympathy; I had silence -instead. I expected Colonel Conway to come to my side during my -trouble, and to lend me at least the encouragement of belief in me. He -neither came nor sent a line of sympathy in support of my courage. Even -the death of my mother--the cruellest blow that fate had ever dealt -me--brought no word or line from him or from Margaret. When my name was -cleared of stigma by the confession of the real culprit, I came back -here to Wanalah with the avowed purpose of making necessary -preparations for my sojourn in the mountains. In point of fact, as I -know now--my purpose was to open the way for some communication between -Wanalah and The Oaks. No such communication came. Colonel Conway did -not call upon me, and Margaret sent me no line. Since then Colonel -Conway has emphasized his disapproval of me in other ways, as you are -aware." - -"Yes, well? You believe yourself possessed of ordinary common sense, I -suppose?" asked Jack Towns in the tone he was in the habit of using -when cross examining a witness whom he intended to discomfit. - -"Yes, of course." - -"Are you acquainted with Margaret Conway?" - -"Why, of course you know--" - -"I know nothing. I'm trying to find out. Answer the question. Are you -acquainted with Margaret Conway?" - -"Yes. I've known her ever since she was born." - -"Is she the sort of woman who would or could do what she appears to -have done in this case? Is it conceivable that she has left you in a -crisis like that which you have gone through, without a word of reply -to letters received from you? Is it probable? Is it even possible? Is -it thinkable?" - -"Apparently--" - -"Oh, hang 'apparently.' Apparently the sun circles round the earth, but -we know better. Apparently the moon is made of green cheese, but it -isn't. Apparently you are a crass idiot, but in the ultimate analysis -you are nothing of the kind. Now answer my question: Is it probable or -even conceivably possible that under the circumstances of your trouble -in Richmond, Margaret Conway, pledged as she was to be your wife, and -possessed as she is of an exalted conception of womanly truth and -honor, and saturated as she is with the courage of a proud race, the -courage that does duty and dares consequences--is it conceivably -possible that she has under such circumstances sat still and left -unanswered letters received from you in your travail?" - -"It seems unaccountable--" began Boyd, and his companion interrupted -him: - -"Nobody has asked you to account for that which could not have -happened. I am asking you to search your own soul and say whether or -not this thing can be true. If anybody should tell me that Boyd -Westover had set up a counterfeiting plant in one of his barns and was -busily 'shoving the queer,' would you expect me to go bothering about -how such a thing could have come about? Would you not expect rather -that I should give the story the lie without further ado? This is a -like case. If you know Margaret Conway, you know she has not been -guilty of this stupendous wrong. You have no right to go on acting as -if she had been." - -"You are right of course," Boyd replied, "so far at least as the -principle is concerned. But how do you account for the facts?" - -"It isn't my business to account for the facts. I know and you know -that under the circumstances which arose in this case, Margaret Conway -_did not leave unanswered any letter she received from you_. Either she -did not receive your letters, or you did not receive her replies, or, -more probably, both things happened." - -"But how could that be? I--" - -"I don't know. I'm not the proper person to ask. I'm going up to bed -now, if you don't mind. I've said all I had in mind to say." - - -The conversation in the other porch was not like this, and yet in its -way it was not unlike it. - -"I hope you enjoyed yourself at the Magisters' to-day, Millicent," said -Margaret as the two seated themselves in the porch. "I'm sorry I -couldn't be with you, but you see old Judy was very low, and I really -had to stay with her." - -"Of course. Only it's all an astonishment to me--I mean the way in -which you look after negroes who are ill." - -"Why, of course we must do that--" - -"Yes, I understand now, but I didn't. I thought you treated them as so -many cattle. Of course I knew you looked after your own maids and other -personal serving women, but I thought field negroes--" - -"I know, dear. The whole system, is bad and I wish we were rid of it. -But people up North always imagine that its worst possibilities are the -daily facts, and we naturally resent that. We aren't angels by any -means, but at least we are human beings. Never mind that now. Tell me -about the dinner and the company." - -"Well, I didn't see much of the company. The Judge and Mr. Towns, and -the Judge's wife and the Commonwealth's Attorney talked hotly about law -things that I didn't at all understand, so I talked mainly with Mr. -Boyd Westover. Margaret, I'd like to spend my whole life listening to -him talk. You see he's so big and strong, and yet so gentle and -chivalric. He makes you feel that you ought to think yourself worth -while, because he respects you so, and is so deferential to you. Why, -even my poor little thinkings seemed to me of some account because of -the way in which he listened to me and treated my utterances. I tell -you, Margaret, he is the most perfect type of the gentleman I ever saw -or dreamed of." - -The night was starlit, but there was no moon as yet, for it was far -past the full, and the porch was dark. Margaret Conway was grateful for -the shadow. It hid her countenance and prevented self-revelation of a -kind that must have filled her soul with humiliation and shame. It gave -her time in which to recover her self-control. Presently she forced -herself to say: - -"Mr. Westover is certainly a good example of our best type of -gentleman. You'll like him more as you become better acquainted with -him, and fortunately you'll meet him again almost immediately. He's -sure to be at the dance at Dr. Carver's over at Fighting Creek." - -"Yes, he's to speak over there. Oh, Margaret, I wonder if I might hear -his speech? Do they let women attend? You see he is so big and brave -and manly and _so_ handsome. He's sure to make a speech worth listening -to. Do you think I might get a chance to hear it?" - -"Yes, dear, certainly," responded Margaret in a voice that in spite of -her had something of hardness in it. "I will arrange that. You'll sit -in a carriage on the outskirts of the crowd, and you can hear every -word, unless--" - -"Unless what, Margaret?" - -"Oh, I was only thinking out loud. You see your carriage will be -surrounded by half a dozen young men, all in love with you, all madly -jealous, and all eager to win and hold your attention. If you can -suppress them, you'll hear the whole speech." - -"Tell me, Margaret, have you known him a long time?" - -"Yes, all my life." - -"I see," she answered. What she had in her mind was that the intimacy -between these two was perhaps too close and too familiar to permit a -softer feeling to grow up between them. "Otherwise," she reflected, -"they would have been lovers of course. How could either of them help -that?" - -But she gave no utterance to the thought. She only subconsciously -rejoiced that matters were as she supposed them to be. - -"I don't think I can be with you over at Fighting Creek, Millicent," -said Margaret after she had mastered herself and formed a plan. - -"But why not? I shall not go if you can't," answered the girl with -emphasis. - -"Oh, yes, you will. I wish you to be there. You'll meet everybody in -this whole region who is worth meeting. I wouldn't have you miss that -on any account. Besides, I should get up a very unlovely reputation for -selfishness, if I suffered you to miss such a festivity merely because -I can't enjoy it with you." - -"But why can't you, Margaret?" - -"There are several reasons. For one thing my father is laid up with an -attack of the gout, you know. That's why he turned back after he had -started to Court to-day. He doesn't seem to be suffering much, but gout -is treacherous, and I must be within call of him. Then again there are -two or three cases of fever at the far quarters." - -Then, as if fearing to have the sufficiency of her excuses too closely -questioned, she hurriedly added: - -"I've planned it all beautifully, Millicent. I'll send you over to -Fighting Creek in The Oaks carriage. My maid shall go with you as -escort, and I'll send for Carter Barksdale to go on horseback as your -gallant outrider. You see Carter is only seventeen years of age, and he -reads Byron and Shelley and Scott till he's saturated with romance. -He's perfectly charming, and you'll enjoy his escort all the more -because he's just old enough to fall madly in love with you at first -sight, and just young enough to be afraid to tell you so. He's a -Virginia type that I want you to meet. That sort of boy is at his best -when he's seventeen and takes himself so seriously that he shrinks from -the open declaration of the fancies he mistakes for passions. He will -revel in a silent, unspoken, unrequited love for one as far removed -from his approach as the northern star, 'of whose true, fixed, and -resting quality' he will quote, 'there is no fellow in the firmament.' -Of course, after he has thoroughly enjoyed the unspeakable wretchedness -of a blighted passion, he will fall in love with the next young woman -several years older than himself who comes in his way, and have the -romance all over again." - -"Margaret," said Millicent seriously and tenderly, "you are not happy -to-night. You are cynical. Something has disturbed you. Don't you feel -that you can tell me what it is and let me share your sorrow as freely -as you let me share your more joyful moods?" - -Margaret Conway was too inherently truthful to protest that she had no -cause of unhappiness when she had. But, with an instinctive flinching -from self-revelation, which every sensitive soul experiences at such a -time, she carefully framed her speech for purposes of avoidance. - -"I don't think I'm cynical, Millicent. I don't feel so. I meant only to -be amusing in talking of something that always amuses me. It has always -seemed to me funny that young men should be so desperately afraid of us -young women even when we are trembling in holy awe of them. I've seen -so much of that sort of thing. Sometimes it becomes tragical and spoils -lives that do not deserve to be spoiled. I knew one case in which it -was saved from doing that only by the impertinent interference of a -very peculiar young woman." - -"Oh, it's a story," exclaimed Millicent, "and a love story at that. -Tell it please." - -"It isn't much of a story, but I'll tell it. I had a governess whom I -loved dearly and with reason. She taught me all I know, and--" - -"She must have been a woman of wonderful acquirements then." - -"She was and is, but such culture as I possess is not an adequate -indication of her learning or of her capacity to teach. I owe her all I -ever learned; I owe to my own indifference all the defects in my -education." - -There was something in Margaret's tone as she said this, that attracted -Millicent's attention. - -"She is certainly cynical, self-accusative, unsatisfied," she -reflected. "She isn't happy, and it behooves you, Millicent Danvers, to -find out the cause and remedy the condition if you can." - -Without uttering that thought, she said: - -"You aren't telling me the love story, Margaret, and I'm eager to hear -that before I let Carter Barksdale fall in love with me. You see I'm -young and wholly inexperienced, and I naturally want to learn how such -things are conducted." - -Margaret laughed lowly, as she thought: "A girl like you doesn't need -lessons in the conduct of love affairs. To such as you, love,--like 'to -write and read, comes by nature.'" - -Then she resumed her story: - -"Apart from her learning, Miss Jane was an altogether admirable woman, -and very naturally our neighbor, Mr. Skipwith, fell in love with her. -He came over here to see her every day for more than a year. He sent -her flowers from his garden, and when the frosts put an end to that he -built a green house, in order that he might keep on sending her -flowers. But somehow he never could get up courage enough to ask for -her hand, until one day Harriet Middleton brought about a crisis. -Harriet was an English girl of peculiarly good family whose father had -migrated to Virginia in search of health. Harriet was almost an old -maid, though not quite. She was blunt and aggressive in manner, though -as gentle and good as anybody could be when you came really to know -her. She was quick and shrewd of observation, and it did not take her -long to find out how matters stood between Mr. Skipwith and Miss Jane. -But the days and weeks went on and still there were no results. One -evening when the moon shone dreamily through a soft haze, Mr. Skipwith -and Miss Jane sat here in the porch, while Harriet and I walked away -through the orchard, by way of leaving them alone, and picking up some -good apples. When we returned, the pair were sitting precisely as we -had left them, at a respectful distance from each other, and both their -attitude and their manner bore convincing witness that even the hazy -moonlight had failed to bring about a crisis. - -"Harriet's patience gave way. She stalked into the porch, with that -horse-like tread that Englishwomen use for a walk, and, taking her -stand between the two, said: - -"'You two people love each other. You want to tell each other about it -but you don't dare; so I'm telling you instead. Now that I've -introduced the subject, perhaps you'll talk it out.' - -"With that she passed on into the house, and a few weeks later Mr. -Skipwith and Miss Jane were married." - -"And have they lived happily ever afterwards?" - -"Indeed they have. They are well to do and very hospitable, and a -pleasanter place to visit than the Skipwith plantation doesn't exist in -Virginia." - -"And Miss Middleton?" - -"She's enjoying herself, bossing an insane asylum. She's only a patient -there, but she believes she's the superintendent, and they let her give -all the orders she thinks fit. Matilda," addressing a maid who at that -moment appeared with some lemonade, "send for the carriage please, and -send word that I want old Michael to drive me. Johnny is apt to go to -sleep." - -"But where on earth are you going to drive at eleven o'clock at night?" -asked Millicent in wonder. - -"Why, you know I have some fever patients out at the far quarters." - -She was at pains not to say that she was going to visit them, though -she half intended to do so. Her desire--imperative and passionate--was -to separate herself from human companionship and think out the problems -that beset her soul. - -"But mayn't I go with you?" - -"No, no, no. You might get the fever, and besides, you must get your -beauty sleep. After you are married to--to some Virginia gentleman, and -become the mistress of a plantation, you will of course look after your -sick servants. Just now it is your duty to go to bed. There's an old -novel 'Dunallan' on the dressing case in my room. Go in there and get -it. It's the very sleepiest thing I ever saw in my life. Read half a -dozen pages of it and you'll be sound asleep. Good night. I won't speak -to you when I come back, lest I disturb your slumbers. Oh, by the way, -tell Diana to put three candles on my candle stand and place it close -to my bed. And tell her please to go to bed as soon as she gets things -ready in our rooms. I shall not want her to-night, and she has had a -hard day." - -As she finished speaking the carriage drove up, with the white-haired -old coachman Michael on the box. He had long ago ceased to have active -duties of any kind to do, but when his "young missus" asked for him to -drive her anywhere, at any time and under any circumstances, the loyal -old servitor was ready and eager in response. He had driven Margaret's -mother on her wedding journey to the mountain resorts. He had driven -Margaret herself to her christening. He had grown old but never lax in -the service, and now in his old age, when he was excused from all -service, it was his chief joy to drive his "young missus" whenever she -honored him by asking that he should do so. - -On this occasion he saw clearly enough that Margaret was distraught, -and when she entered the carriage he forbore to distress her with -questions. He simply picked out the best roads and followed them. After -awhile she spoke to him. - -"I reckon you'd better drive to the far quarters, Uncle Michael. I -ought to see the sick ones." - -"Dey ain't sick, Miss Margaret. Leastways dey ain't sick enough for you -to go botherin' 'bout 'em. Dey's jes' a sufferin' dere own calamities. -Dey stole a shoat night before last an' gorged on it all night. 'Course -dey had a fever yestiddy an' to-day. Don't you go a botherin' 'bout dem -no 'count niggas, Miss Margaret. Jes' you let ole Michael pick out de -roads fer you and drive you 'bout, comfortable like." - -With this reassuring release from obligation, the girl sank back among -the cushions as the late rising, gibbous moon came up from the horizon, -and abandoned herself to thought. - -She was a woman, young, strong, passionate; she cherished still that -dream of love which had so recently inspired and illumined her life. -She could not understand why or how it had been snatched away by -circumstance. It was hard for her to believe that all she had hoped for -and held dear had been banished from her life by a final, arbitrary, -inexplicable decree of fate. - -"And yet," she reflected, "it is so. Between Boyd and me there is a -great gulf fixed, and nothing can furnish a bridge across it." - -Then another thought occurred to her. - -"Suppose I should write to Boyd and ask him for an explanation? - -"No, I could not do that without sacrificing that pride of womanhood -without which a woman is nothing and worse than nothing. No, that can -never be. I wonder why he does not himself offer an explanation and -seek a restoration of old relations? No, that can never be. It would -involve such a sacrifice of manhood as is inconceivable. There is never -any explanation possible, never any solution to this riddle, never -anything." - -She sat still for awhile, not thinking at all. Suddenly she reflected: - -"After all it is his happiness that I care for. My own is of no -consequence. He is a man, and it will be easy for him to transfer his -affections. Men are not like women in that way. Millicent will make a -fitter wife for him than I ever could. He will be happy with her, and -as for me--well, it doesn't matter. I have my duties and my -occupations. The rest is of no consequence. He shall love Millicent and -marry her, and may be, when I'm an old, old woman, he and I will come -to understand each other again, at least so far that neither shall -accuse the other of treachery." - -With a mind attuned to the great renunciation, she called to Michael -and bade him drive back to The Oaks. - - - - -XXVI - -MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS - - -Millicent Danvers was a frank, open-minded young woman, almost -childlike in her simplicity of soul in every case where candor was met -with equal candor. But her childlikeness included a child's subtle -instinct as to the moods and motives of others, and where affection -prompted her scrutiny she was not often at fault in her judgments of -human conduct. - -When Margaret, refusing her company, drove away that night Millicent -knew perfectly that her friend's spirit was disturbed in some unusual -way, for until then these two had been comrades in every such -expedition, and Margaret had been the one most insistent that they -should be so. - -"I want you to see every phase of our Virginia life," she had many -times said, "so that when you go back to Boston you may know what there -is in it to approve, what to admire, what to condemn, and what merely -to laugh at. For I'm sure there is much in it that must strike Northern -people as ludicrous. Anyhow I want you to see it all and understand all -of it. Then I'm not afraid to trust our life and our ways and our -impulses to your hands for explanation and exposition to people who are -ignorant of them or know them only by prejudiced hearsay." - -The events of this day, and especially Margaret's own conduct had been -so different from all this as to awaken curiosity and compel attention. -Both the curiosity and the attention had a deep and sincere affection -for their prompting. - -When Margaret drove away and the late rising, gibbous moon appeared -above the tree tops and shone softly through the windows of Millicent's -southeast room, the girl sat down there by a casement to wonder, to -conjecture, to "guess," and, better still, to "think this thing out to -the end." - -"There is something wrong with Margaret," was her first thought. "She -is disturbed and distressed, and she isn't the kind of person to be -disturbed and distressed without adequate reason. Why didn't she go -over to the Court House with me this morning and dine at the -Magisters'? She intended to do so. She and I had planned it all out, -and she had accepted Mrs. Magister's invitation. It was only at the -last moment that she decided to stay and nurse her father's purely -mythical gout. It was only five minutes before that that a note had -come from Mrs. Magister, saying that Mr. Boyd Westover had come down -out of the mountains and that she should 'compel' him to be one of her -dinner guests. I wonder if that news brought on the attack of gout, and -decided Margaret to stay at the Oaks and nurse it? - -"Then again it is clear that Margaret does not expect Mr. Westover to -visit her in the near future. I wonder why? His plantation adjoins -this, and everybody says the two families have been intimate for -generations. There must be some special reason. In fact there is. -Somebody told me to-day that Colonel Conway had refused to join in the -nomination of Mr. Westover, and that the fact is injuring Mr. -Westover's canvass. I wonder what it means? Naturally Mr. Westover and -Margaret should be sweethearts, and after a while they should marry -each other. I wonder why things haven't gone that way? May be they have -been too intimate in their childhood. No, that isn't the solution. It -doesn't explain Margaret's care to avoid Mr. Westover. It doesn't -explain her plan to send me to Fighting Creek without her. It doesn't -explain her drive to-night. It doesn't explain anything. If they were -mere intimates, too intimate to think of love, Mr. Westover would be a -frequent guest at The Oaks and the relations of the two would be -comradely." - -She paused for a while in the formulation of her thinking into orderly -phrases. Then she reflected: - -"When I mentioned Margaret to him at dinner to-day he distinctly -winced. Every time I have mentioned him to her to-night, she has turned -the conversation to other subjects." - -There was another long pause in the formulation of her thought. At last -her common sense asserted itself and she said to herself: - -"Millicent Danvers, you are treading upon dangerous ground, and you -must get off it as quickly as possible. There has been a love affair -between Margaret and Westover. You can't shut your eyes to that fact or -pretend not to see it. Some break has come, but such breaks may be -repaired, and it is your function to repair this one." - -A wave of melancholy swept over her soul as she thought of this. She -mightily admired Boyd Westover, and she had even dreamed a little dream -with regard to him. She was a proud maiden in her way and as she -searched her heart there in the moonlight, she decided that she had not -suffered herself to fall in love with Westover. - -"How could I?" she challenged herself to answer. "I have met him but -once. The thing is absurd. Besides, no self-respecting young woman -gives her love to any man until he asks for it. No, of course I'm not -in love with Mr. Westover. It is nothing but admiration that I feel for -him." - -Then, as she looked out into the tree-studded house grounds, where all -nature seemed to sleep in the soft haze of the moonlight, she added to -her thought: - -"But it would be easy for such a man to change a woman's admiration -into love by a phrase, a word, a look into her eyes. Thank God he has -not yet looked into my eyes in that way, and, God being my helper, he -never shall. After all,--well, after all there are only a few men in -the world that--well, anyhow, it isn't so terrible a thing to be an old -maid, and I'll do my duty in this case if the stars start from their -courses, as a consequence." Then she laughed under her breath, and -jeered in mocking fashion at the absurdity of her thought: - -"Of course the stars will do nothing of the kind. That was a bit of -heroics, and I'm not a heroine of romance. I'm only a simple, honest, -Boston girl. I love Margaret dearly, and I'm resolved to do all I can -to bring about a reconciliation between her and Mr. Westover, for I'm -satisfied there is need for something of the sort. That's sane and -sensible at any rate, and the stars have nothing to do with it." - -She had been reading an essay entitled, "The Great Renunciation," and -she was full of its spirit, almost a devotee to the impulses it sought -to inspire. But as she recalled it she laughed. - -"That had to do with the great religions of the world. It didn't refer -to the case of a sensible girl who finds herself particularly attracted -by a young man at a first meeting and decides that she will not let him -fall in love with her because she realizes that the best loved friend -of her life is, or has been or ought to be his affianced wife. -Millicent, I'm ashamed of you. After all the instruction you've had as -to the conduct of life and the behavior of young women, this thing is -ridiculous." - -Nevertheless there was sadness in that inexperienced heart of hers, as -she saw the carriage reënter the house grounds, and herself hastened -to bed lest her friend should discover her vigil. But if hers had not -been the great renunciation, at least it had been a resolution of -loyalty and good faith, and perhaps in the eyes of the angels the two -things are very nearly the same. Her exacting New England conscience at -any rate was satisfied, so that it let her sleep, just as Margaret's -Virginia conscience--different in kind but equally exigent in its -demands--permitted slumber, sweet and refreshing, to come to her. - -When the morning came these two met, each intently resolved to render -to the other the supreme service of sacrifice, and neither dreaming of -the other's thought. But in all human affairs circumstance has its part -to play, and while it cannot alter purposes it often plays havoc with -results. It was so in this case. Things happened, and the happening was -more decisive than the moonlight meditations of a pair of maidens could -possibly be. - - - - -XXVII - -THE PHILOSOPHY OF JACK TOWNS - - -Boyd Westover had the excellent mental habit of attending carefully to -more than one thing at a time. - -Just now he had the election on his hands, and with it some problems of -personal dignity and repute that required his closest attention. But he -also had Wanalah plantation to look after, and in view of his long -absence he felt that home affairs were pressing. - -Accordingly he was up before the dawn, on the morning after his -arrival, and for half an hour after dawn he waited, not at all -patiently, for the coming of his overseer, to whom he had sent a -summons over night to be with him "at the crack of day." Then instead -of waiting longer, he mounted his horse and rode away on a tour of -inspection. - -It was well after sunrise when he returned to find the overseer -hitching his horse to the rack. - -"Good afternoon, Mr. Wilkinson," he said; "I had hoped to see you this -morning." - -"I'm sorry, sir, but ÃŽ was very tired last night." - -"So was I. I had walked all through the night before. Never mind that -now. I wanted to see you at dawn. The sun is now half an hour high. -That means that you have wasted an hour and a half of my time, and my -time is just now precious." - -"I'm very sorry, sir--" - -"Don't bother to apologize. I can't waste any further time listening to -excuses. Why are you seeding the Gaston field in wheat? I directed -otherwise, you know." - -"Well, sir, the fall has given us good weather, and we can get in that -two hundred acres as well as not." - -"But how about harvesting it?" - -"Oh, I'll manage that." - -"Yes, by making the negroes work by moonlight, as you did last summer -to the everlasting shame of Wanalah plantation, and just as you made -too many hogsheads of tobacco and too many barrels of corn to the hand. -I have told you before and I tell you now that I will not have the -hands over-worked. Is the Gaston field seeded?" - -"No, sir. We begin on that to-day." - -"Don't seed it. Let it lie fallow." - -"But my gracious, Mr. Westover,--" - -"Never mind about your gracious. I tell you not to seed that field. And -another thing: You planted seven hundred thousand hills of tobacco last -year. I want you to write it up in your hat that four hundred thousand -is Wanalah's limit. I want you to understand that this plantation is -not run for money. If it supports itself, giving a decent living to the -whites and blacks on it, I shall be satisfied. If it doesn't quite do -that, I'll find a way in which to make up the deficiency. Now I want -you to give all the negroes on the plantation a whole holiday -to-morrow. I understand there's to be a big picnic with all-day -preaching over at Mount Moriah church, and I want everybody on the -plantation to attend it. By the way, Bob!" calling to a passing negro, -"go at once and tell old Joe I want him to kill two sheep--good fat -ones--three shoats and four turkeys this morning; tell him to hang 'em -in the ice house as soon as they're dressed, and send them over to -Mount Moriah early to-morrow morning. Do you hear?" - -"Yassir!" responded Bob, his mouth already watering for the share he -expected to eat of the good things thus promised. - -"And, Bob, tell Uncle Joe to take them over there himself and say that -Mas' Boyd Westover hopes the folks will have a good time and get as -much religion as they need." - -"But, Boyd," said Jack Towns, who had sleepily strolled into the porch, -"don't you think--" - -"No, decidedly not, Jack. You see Wanalah is the plantation nearest to -Mount Moriah, and it's the natural base of supplies for a meeting -there. If I don't furnish the provender they'll steal it out of my -pasture, my pig pen and my turkey yard. I very much prefer that they -should get the things honestly, and it costs me no more." - -Then, returning to business, he said to the overseer: - -"You understand the general spirit of my instructions, Mr. Wilkinson, -and I beg you to bear it in mind. I'll give more specific orders from -time to time, as they are needed." - -"But what about me?" answered the overseer. "I've got a reputation for -makin' more tobacco to the hand an' more wheat to the acre an' more -corn on top o' that than any other man as oversees a plantation -anywheres for forty mile around here." - -"Well, what of it?" - -"Well, it's this a ways. I ain't a-goin' to lose a reputation I prides -myself on. Ef you don't want your niggers worked fer all they's worth, -perhaps you'd better look out fer another overseer." - -Westover flushed angrily, more at the tone than at the words, and -answered instantly: - -"Perhaps I had. At any rate I will. I shall not renew my contract with -you for another year." - -The Virginians were very tolerant of insolence on the part of a negro. -Usually they treated it as badinage, quite harmlessly and humorously -meant. But insolence on the part of an overseer was always taken -seriously and instantly resented. The overseers constituted a pariah -class, for whom there was tolerance only so long as they "minded their -manners." - -As the overseer lingered in hope of some modification of the sentence -he had brought upon himself, Westover impatiently turned upon him, -saying: - -"I think I have nothing more to say to you, Mr. Wilkinson, and I wish -to talk with Mr. Towns. You may go now." - -As the man walked down the road that led to the outer gates, he -muttered: - -"I'll git back at him for that. He's a sneak-in' abolitionist. I'll be -over at Fighting Creek to-morrow, seein's he's made it a holiday here." - -"Now I want to talk with you, Jack," said Westover when the man was -well out of earshot. - -"So I understood you to say to Mr. Wilkinson; and you may go on and -talk to me till the cows come home, if it amuses you to do so, but if -you expect me to talk back in any rational way, you've simply got to -wait till after breakfast. When I've had two cups of coffee, the best -part of a roe herring, three or four slices of cold ham, a wedge or two -of hot light bread, some beaten biscuit, and one of your belated -cantaloupes, I shall begin to appreciate the fact that I have a brain. -Till then I decline to consider myself a rational being. Go on and -talk, if you want to." - -"I will," answered Westover, passing into the house. To one of the -dining-room servants he said: - -"Serve a pot of coffee to Mr. Towns immediately, do you hear? Is it -ready?" - -Half a minute later Cilla appeared in the porch bearing a tray with -coffee and its accessories daintily arranged upon a napkin. The -servants at Wanalah had not yet lost their memory of the training they -had received in youth. - -"There," said Westover, "saturate your soul and stimulate your system -with coffee. And by the way, there's a frost-bitten tomato sliced up to -deceive your eyes and your appetite. How long before breakfast, Cilla?" - -"It's a-bein' brung in now," answered the serving girl, "all but the -hot buckwheat cakes, an' them'll come a little later." - -It was the custom of the Virginians to talk freely at table, paying no -heed whatever to the presence of their servitors. Accordingly, as soon -as Jack Towns began to discover his brains again, under the influence -of a breakfast that might have made a chatterer of the Sphinx itself, -the two talked of plans. - -"My first endeavor," said Westover, "will be to compel Colonel Conway -to declare himself. To that end, as soon as breakfast is done, I shall -send him a letter that will require a response of some sort. You see, -Jack, his attitude is far more hurtful to me than the most aggressive -antagonism on his part could be. Everybody knows that the Westovers and -the Conways have been the most intimate friends possible throughout -generations past. If he and I had had a quarrel, everybody would -understand. But we have had no quarrel, and so nobody understands and -everybody wonders. If he believes I was guilty down there in Richmond--" - -"He can't think that, unless he's an idiot of extraordinary capacity -for the lunatic misinterpretation of facts," interrupted Towns. - -"Perhaps not. Still, I remember hearing a 'Pennsylvania Dutch' -magistrate declare from the bench that 'Nodings is possible mit Gott,' -and so it may be that, he believes that. If so he has a perfect right -to express his belief. All I ask is that he shall say what it is he has -against me." - -"Stuff and nonsense! Rot and rubbish! Scammony and gamboge! Moonlight, -music, love and flowers! Transcendentalism and green cheese!" exclaimed -Jack Towns, multiplying words as a man of oratorical habit is apt to -do. "You know perfectly well that he believes nothing of the sort. -Recall our conversation of last night." - -"I remember it perfectly, and that is why I'm going to write to Colonel -Conway this morning. It may open the way to an explanation." - -"It may, of course. But if I were in your place I'd write to Margaret -instead." - -"How can I? I have written to her again and again, and she has not -answered. Self-respect forbids me--" - -"I quite understand. It was self-respect that caused a cat to lose an -eye in a scrimmage rather than explain to the other cat that the fence -he was sitting on was the personal property of his own master. Never -mind. If you won't write to Margaret, write to her father by all means. -It may provoke a crisis of some sort, and that is the one thing to be -desired just now." - -But Boyd Westover was not destined to send that letter. He toiled over -it half the day and more. He wrote it in forty different forms. He used -up more letter paper than had been consumed at Wanalah during a year or -more past, but he could not get the thing into a shape that would do. -Finally he threw down his pen and turning to Jack Towns said: - -"The trouble is, Jack, that when I try to formulate my complaint there -isn't a thing to challenge or question. Colonel Conway has not been -here to call upon me, but I cannot decently complain of that. He has -refused to join with others in nominating me, but that too was his -right and I cannot question it. The whole thing is so negative that -really there isn't a point I can mention as a ground of complaint." - -"Yes? Well--" - -"Yes, well, what? Why don't you say something?" - -"I will. I'll say that you're irritable to-day. You showed it your -confab with your overseer, who is a very worthy man with an exaggerated -notion of the work a field hand ought to do in a day. You showed it at -breakfast, when you complained because the buckwheat cakes didn't make -their appearance precisely on time. Is there anything else you'd like -me to say?" - -"Yes. What am I to do in this matter, by way of bringing about a -tolerable situation?" - -"Why, nothing, of course. I could have told you that this morning, but -you wouldn't have believed it then. Now that you've exhausted your -literary capacity and most of the Wanalah stationery in a futile effort -to do the impossible, it may be worth my while to say to you that in a -case of this kind there is nothing you can do except await events with -due respect for your own dignity. Shut up your desk and send for some -horses. Let's have a gallop before dinner time. And by the way, I'd -like to ride that young iron gray mare you've got in your stables. She -impresses me so favorably that I should buy her if she belonged to -anybody who would sell." - -"Why, when did you inspect her, Jack? I hadn't a thought--" - -"I know you hadn't, but while you've been busy at your desk, trying to -accomplish the impossible, I've been down to the stables and had the -mare out for inspection. She's a beauty and, so far as I know the -points of a horse, she has all of them that are worth while. She's a -Red Eye of course?" - -"Yes--Red Eye and Nina. She's Nina's own colt. I'll tell you what I'll -do, Jack. If you'll stay with me, making Wanalah your home till this -confounded election is over,--just to keep me sane, you know,--the mare -shall be yours, as a souvenir of your safe return from the Rocky -Mountains." - -"Done!" exclaimed Jack. "But if I have to club you by way of keeping -you sane, you won't too greatly mind, will you?" - -"Not in the least. It's the clubbing I want. Really, Jack, I often -think I haven't quite grown up and never shall. I have my full -complement of inches, of course, and I can be dignified upon occasion, -but when it comes to emotional things, somehow--" - -"Somehow you're nothing but a romantic, sentimental boy. I've heard you -quote Keats and Shelley when an arithmetic or a geography would have -been much more to the purpose. I was born that way myself, and so you -see I understand your malady and sympathize with you, but as for myself -I've worked a complete cure." - -"How did you manage it, Jack?" asked Westover in amused anticipation. - -"Oh, easily enough. I have cultivated catholicity of taste in the -matter of girls. You know all sentimentality in men has its ultimate -origin in their attitude toward women. Now in sentiment, as in -everything else, moderation is desirable and excess is destructive. -Realizing that fact I have cultivated moderation, by falling madly in -love with every pretty young woman I have met, and with some pretty old -ones also. But as one encounters a rapid succession of pretty young -women, the habit of falling in love with each of them is a securely -protective agency. You see I never have time to become idiotically in -love with one young woman before meeting another who knocks all that -out of my head. To-day's girl rescues me from yesterday's. It's a case -of one nail driving out another." - -"You are the worst cynic I ever knew, Jack." - -"Perhaps I am. But I see the boys are here with the horses. Let's be -off and away, forgetting philosophy and girls and pessimism and -moonlight and molasses candy for a time at least. Is that a quarter of -shoat Cilla is toting from the ice-house? In verity it is, and a decent -respect for its succulent attractiveness should prompt us to arm -ourselves and meet it with an appetite. So here goes for a good hard -gallop, with stiff fences by the way." - - - - -XXVIII - -THE EVENTS OF A DAY - - -Only once had Westover been interrupted during his hours of laborious -and futile effort to write his letter to Colonel Conway. Jack Towns, -being an ideal guest, had occupied himself with books, strolls, and -other silent means of passing the time, so that his host had been in no -way reminded of his existence. But the weather had not been so -unobtrusive a guest. Considerably before noon there came a squall which -for ten or fifteen minutes threatened destruction to everything movable -about the place. It unroofed a cellar door at the back of the house. It -carried away the shed of a tobacco barn, and curiously enough one of -the cook's pigs, which she was bringing up luxuriously on "pot liquor -and kitchen stuff," disappeared during the brief hurricane. Whether the -obese porker was really blown away, as most of the house servants -stoutly contended, or whether it was that some colored person with an -appetite had simultaneously seized the opportunity and the pig and got -away with both, was a point never accurately determined. - -Boyd Westover cared nothing for damages that might be repaired, but he -was sorely distressed by the wreckage of a favorite mimosa tree that -flourished near one corner of the porch. He even quitted his writing, -when the little squall had passed away, and with Jack Towns's very -inexpert assistance, attempted some repairs. But when there arose the -question of sawing off a broken limb, he abandoned the undertaking, -saying: - -"We'll leave that till Carley Farnsworth comes. He's due here to-day to -see some of my people who are ill. He's a much better horticulturist -than either of us, Jack, and besides he's a surgeon and will know -better how to give the poor tree a chance to grow into symmetry again." - -Then, as he sorrowfully contemplated the torn and broken mimosa, he -muttered: - -"I shouldn't have cared half so much if the squall had blown away every -barn I've got. The ruin of that tree is all that it means to me." - -He little dreamed what other and immeasurably greater consequences were -to come to him as the result of that brief atmospheric disturbance, but -he was destined, after a time, to find out. - -When the two friends returned from their ride of a dozen miles or so, -bringing with them a pair of wild turkey gobblers shot upon the flush, -they found Carley Farnsworth in the hall, as the broad passageway -through a Virginia house was called, very busily writing upon small -slips of paper, of which he had prepared a considerable number before -beginning to write. He was too busy to give more than a scant greeting -to his friends, but in lieu of greater cordiality he handed one of his -written slips to each, saying: - -"Read that, and don't interrupt me, please. I'm expecting a messenger -every moment." - -On each of the slips was written: - - -"I am authorized by Colonel Robert Conway to add his name to the list -of those who urge Mr. Boyd Westover's election. - -"(Signed) Don Carlos Farnsworth." - - -As Westover and Towns looked wonderingly at each other, after reading -the slips, Carley Farnsworth threw down his pen, exclaiming: - -"There! that's fifty. Talk will do the rest." - -Then, filling and lighting a long-stemmed pipe, he said to the others: - -"Something has happened. Don't ask me what it is, for I don't know. -Yonder comes Dick Ventress, and the slips are ready for him. He has a -pot of gum stick'em in his pocket and he's going to paste those slips -to all the nominating placards within twenty miles between now and -to-morrow morning. They'll set everybody talking, and talk will do the -rest." - -When Dick Ventress had received the papers and galloped away, Carley -vouchsafed some small and exceedingly unsatisfying explanation. - -"Something has happened at The Oaks," he said. "I don't know what it -is, but when I got there to-day to attend Miss Margaret's sick people, -I found everybody agitated, Miss Betsy in something like collapse, and -Colonel Conway littering up the house with the torn fragments of -letters he'd been trying to write but couldn't. I gave him something to -quiet his nerves, and suggested that in his state of mind perhaps -literary endeavors were unadvisable. Presently he exclaimed: 'I'll -arrange the whole thing. I'll write a letter to you.' - -"With that he set to work and wrote this." - -He offered a sheet of paper on which was written: - - -"Dr. D. C. Farnsworth. - -"_My dear Sir_:-- - -"When you asked me to join you and others in nominating Mr. Boyd -Westover for Senator, I felt bound to decline, for reasons which I did -not, because I could not, offer. Through very distressing and to me -embarrassing circumstances, I now discover that I have been acting -under a misapprehension. There are peculiar circumstances which forbid -me to explain myself further. I cannot do so without injustice to -others. But so far as Mr. Boyd Westover is concerned I earnestly desire -to make such atonement as is still possible. To that end I hereby -authorize you to add my name to the list of those who urge Mr. Boyd -Westover's election. You are free to make this public in any and every -way that may seem to you desirable. If it were possible, I should -myself announce it from the platform at Fighting Creek to-morrow. As it -is I authorize you to do so in my absence. I beg you to use all the -influence you can command to spare me the necessity of explanation in -this case. I cannot explain. The situation is the most distressing one -possible to me. I place it and myself in your hands, and I am always, -my dear Dr. Farnsworth, - -"Your sincere friend, - "Robert Conway." - - -"There you have the whole story, so far as I know anything about it," -said the Doctor. - -"I must say," said Jack Towns, "it is a very manly effort to make -reparation under difficulties." - -"Yes," answered Westover, "and that is characteristic of Colonel -Conway. I'd gladly sacrifice the election in exchange for the privilege -of reading that note. He is altogether a man, and I must meet his -manliness as a man. I'll write to him at once." - -"He does not invite that," said Jack Towns. - -"On the contrary he forbids it," added Carley Farnsworth, "and I forbid -it in his name. Your impulse is manly and generous, Boyd, but you see -he has asked me to use all the influence I can to spare him the -necessity of explaining. A note from you would simply compel an -explanation at his hands. It was to avoid that that he tore up all the -letters he tried to write to you to-day. It is to avoid that that he -doesn't mount his horse and ride over here to shake hands with you and -tell you about this thing, whatever it is. It is to avoid that that he -is going to absent himself from the meeting at Fighting Creek -to-morrow, leaving me to announce his change of mind in his stead. What -do you think, Jack?" - -"Oh, there's only one thing to think. Until Colonel Conway shall see -fit to open direct communication with Westover of Wanalah, it will be -an extreme and unpardonable impertinence for Westover of Wanalah to -address any personal communication to him. Circumstances forbid it. -Courtesy forbids it. Consideration, conscience, common sense, -convenience, convention, custom,--everything that begins with a 'c' or -with any other letter of the alphabet,--forbids it." - -"I suppose you two are right," answered Westover, "but to a man of my -temperament it seems an ungracious thing not to recognize in some -personal way the courtesy Colonel Conway has shown me. My impulse is to -write to him and thank him." - -"Well, under the circumstances you mustn't," said Carley Farnsworth, -"and you're lucky, Boyd, to have sane friends to advise and control -you." - -"I reckon I am. But really, Carley, what do you suppose has happened -over at The Oaks?" - -"I am doing no supposing. It may be anything or nothing. We -Virginians--all but Jack Towns and me--are so emotional, so -sentimental, so chivalric if you prefer the term, that I long ago -ceased my efforts to make a diagnosis of things of that sort. I only -know that the Colonel is wrought up to a pitch that requires the remedy -of going to bed, and that everybody else at The Oaks is correspondingly -wrought up. Everybody except that thoroughly admirable Boston girl, -Miss Danvers. She has a head, and she keeps it poised above her -shoulders. If I hadn't an entirely satisfactory wife of my own in -prospect, though not yet in possession, I should be strongly tempted to -persuade that girl to stay south of Mason and Dixon's line. As it is, I -really think some other fellow ought to do that as a service to -Virginia society. Miss Danvers is a true blue, a thoroughbred. She has -character, manners, breeding, beauty, simplicity, honesty, sincerity, -loyalty, good sense, and all the other qualities that go to make a -woman admirable. She is the only person who knows what the ruction over -at The Oaks was, and she's the only one there capable of handling the -situation sanely. She seems to have everybody there well in hand, and -to be controlling all of them wisely. She has a persuasive gift that -astonished me when she actually got Colonel Conway to go to bed in the -middle of the afternoon, and induced Margaret to do the same thing as a -precaution against a nervous breakdown that was clearly threatened. I -had ordered both those goings to bed, with all the authority of a -medical adviser, but to no purpose. When I spoke to that Boston girl -about it, she answered gently but confidently: 'If you think that -advisable, Doctor, I will see that it is done,' and by Jove she did the -trick so promptly that before I left I saw them both in bed, and gave -each of them a sleeping potion that will keep them quiet for many hours -to come." - -Under ordinary circumstances, Jack Towns would have declared his -purpose to go over to The Oaks at once and make love to the Boston -girl. For some reason, on this occasion, he shrank from all jesting. He -had talked for an hour with Millicent Danvers on the evening before. He -wanted now to talk with her for another hour, but, contrary to his -custom, he said nothing of his purpose. He went to dinner with the -other two, and after the dinner was done he slipped away to the -stables, mounted the superb mare that was now his, and rode away to The -Oaks. - - - - -XXIX - -THE WORK OF A WILD WIND - - -This is the story of what the wind-storm did at The Oaks, to disturb -the usual placidity of life there. - -It was Aunt Betsy's custom, as it was that of many or most other women -in Virginia, to write a multitude of "notes" each day, some of them -filling six or eight sheets of paper, with criss-crossings to make them -seem undecipherably interesting, and to despatch them by young negroes -on bare-backed horses to their more or less neighborly destination. A -statistical economist once made a careful reckoning by which he -convinced himself that this practice cost the planter families of -Virginia about seven and one-half times the amount they contributed in -stamps to the postal revenues of the nation. - -It was the practice of the young women of the plantations to write all -these letters before breakfast. It was Aunt Betsy's more leisurely -practice to write them whenever she pleased, and she usually pleased to -write them between ten o'clock in the morning and the one o'clock hour -that was sacred to the luncheon known in Virginia as "snack." - -On the morning of the happening at The Oaks, the day being sufficiently -warm, Aunt Betsy brought out her desk--an oblong box which when opened -offered a slanting writing surface, with spaces below its lids for -letter paper, envelopes, and papers of every kind. Women usually laid -these so-called "desks" upon their laps and managed somehow to write -there, as no man ever could have done. But it was Aunt Betsy's habit -also to retire into the house now and then upon occasions of real or -imagined necessity, and in anticipation of such interruptions she -always had a slender-legged stand at hand--a thing "drunkenly -artistic," as Boyd Westover had once said--upon which to place her desk -whenever she was minded to suspend her writing for a while. - -On the morning in question she had a gown in course of construction by -her seamstresses, who were working in the back porch with a room -opening off it which her modesty used for purposes of "fitting" and -"trying on." - -She had therefore frequent occasion to suspend her writing. - -It was during one of her most exigent fits of trying on that the squall -struck the place. As a good deal of thunder and lightning accompanied -the weather disturbance, and as Aunt Betsy was possessed of that sort -of cowardice concerning thunder and lightning which persons so -afflicted call "nervousness," she promptly shut herself up in a dark -closet and remained there until the squall had passed away. - -[Illustration: With the first onset of the wind.--_Page 343._] - -But with the first onset of the wind the frail table on which she had -left her open desk toppled over; the desk was whirled out into the -grounds and dashed against a tree with a force that instantly reduced -it to splinters, while its contents--correspondence and curl papers -alike--were scattered, if not to the four winds, at least to the one -wind which was blowing with demoniacal fury. - -Margaret and Millicent who had just returned from a morning stroll -rushed frantically, picturesquely and, in an unconscious way, -gracefully, to the rescue. The desk was in fragments and far past -praying for; but by a deal of scurrying the two girls and some of the -house servants managed to collect the scattered papers and place them -upon a table within, while Aunt Betsy was still ensconced in her dark -closet, waiting for the last rumble of the thunder to cease. As -Millicent deposited her share of the spoils upon the table, she looked -at Margaret with frightened eyes and said: - -"Please send everybody out of the room but you and me." - -For Millicent had not yet accustomed herself to talk freely in the -presence of servants as if they were deaf, dumb, and blind, incapable -of understanding what might be said in their presence and therefore -incapable of repeating it. That habit of the Virginians had its origin -probably in two facts: they never said anything that they were afraid -to stand by; and the negro was not, in law or in fact, permitted to -testify against a white person. In the courts his testimony was barred -by statute; in social life it was even more absolutely barred by -convention. No negro ventured to report anything he had heard white -people say, and if he had done so, no white person would for one moment -have listened to him. To have done that would have been to invite and -incur absolute and eternal ostracism. - -But Millicent, brought up in a totally different atmosphere, could -never accustom herself to this, and so she asked to have the servants -dismissed from the room before saying what she had to say about the -papers in her hand. Margaret smiled at the request, but after the -revelation was made she rejoiced that it had been preferred and acted -upon. - -When the servants had left the room, Millicent held out a handful of -letters that she had picked up in the wild scramble of rescue. - -"There is something wrong here, Margaret," she said in her open, honest -way. "Some of these are unopened letters addressed to you--letters that -bear stamps and post marks, letters that have come through the mail. -These others are sealed letters addressed in your handwriting to Mr. -Boyd Westover. They are stamped, but they bear no postmarks. They have -never been mailed." - -She stood silent for a moment, rigid with an indignation that she knew -not how to express in words. - -Meanwhile Margaret stood looking at the letters, dazed, pale to the -lips, paralyzed. Then she looked from the letters to Millicent and the -girl thought she was dying or already dead, so white was her face at -first and so livid a moment later. - -With the womanly instinct of ministry, reinforced by a passionate -impulse of friendship, Millicent passed around the table, threw her arm -about the stricken girl and gently forced her to lie upon one of the -broad lounges or settees, or whatever else they should be called, that -in those days invited repose in every dining room and every hallway of -the plantation houses. - -With that ready appreciation of necessity which is characteristic of -womanhood, she went to the sideboard, poured a thimble glass of sherry -and compelled Margaret to drink it. Then she tinkled a bell and when -the servant appeared gave quick, concise orders for the summoning of -Margaret's maid and other strong-armed servitors. - -"You must get your mistress to bed at once," she commanded, "and send -some one to summon Dr. Farnsworth quickly. He's at the lower quarters." - -But Margaret, rising to a sitting position, promptly negatived all -this. Sustained by wrath, indignation, resentment of insult, and by -outraged pride, she forced upon herself the calm control that for the -moment she had lost, though only for the moment. With that instinct of -race, that courage, that self-mastery that had been always a precious -possession of the Conways, she dismissed the superfluous servants who -had hastened to her upon hearing that she was in trouble, and assumed -control of the situation. - -"Thank you, Millicent, dear, for bringing those letters to me. They are -mine, and I will dispose of them. Diana, bring me my desk, please." - -When the desk was placed before her she selected a sheet of paper and -an envelope as calmly as if she had meant to send a note to Hallie -Harvey or any other girl friend, asking her for the proper count of -stitches in a piece of fancy knitting work. - -Then she wrote upon the sheet of paper, this note: - - -"Aunt Betsy:--Your desk was blown out into the grounds and wrecked, -during the squall. We have gathered up the fragments of the desk and -rescued all the widely scattered papers. I am sending you all of them -that in any way belong to you. Those that belong to me I am keeping. I -send you this note, instead of seeing you in person, because your maid -tells me you have gone to bed. - -"Margaret." - - -She sent the note, sealed, by the hand of a maid, and she sent with it -the entire paper contents of the wrecked desk, except the unopened -letters of Boyd Westover to herself and her own unopened letters to -him. These she gathered together into a bundle which she thrust into -her corsage. - -Then she turned to a servant and gave the order: - -"Send to the stables for saddle horses for your Miss Millicent and me. -We are going for a ride." - -To Millicent she said under her breath: "You must go with me, dear. I -must control myself or I shall not be able to carry this thing through -to the end with dignity. I must have a dash on horseback. You don't -mind, do you, dear?" - -"Mind? _I mind_, Margaret? Why, you know that I would ride to the ends -of the earth with you and for you, even under ordinary circumstances. -Now that you're in trouble, of course I am ready. I don't know the -facts--though I guess some of them--and I don't understand all that -these things mean, but I know you have been wronged, outraged, placed -in a false position, humiliated by some trespass upon your privacy or -your personality, and I am here to stand by you till the wrong is -righted, the outrage undone, and the humiliation lifted from your -spirit. I'll do anything, everything--oh, Margaret, you don't know how -I love you or how eager I am to help you!" - -Margaret looked at her with loving and teary eyes. Presently she said: - -"I know it all, dear. And yet you Yankees are supposed to be cold and -calculating and hard. How utterly mistaken people are in their -judgments! But here are the horses. We'll have a spin, and then--" - -She paused as if in doubt and apprehension. Presently she added: - -"And then I must confront my father. He is the proper person and he -must set this thing right." - -After a brisk gallop of half a mile, Margaret reined her horse down to -a walk, and entered into conversation with her friend. - -"I feel, Millicent," she began, "that I ought to take you completely -into my confidence, and tell you all that this thing means. Your -loyalty and your affection deserve that. But there are reasons which I -cannot explain that forbid so full a confidence. I am going to tell you -all I can, and I want you to believe and know that whatever reserves I -practise are practised solely for your sake." - -"But how can that be, Margaret? Of course you are to tell me as much or -as little as you please, but--" - -"I see. I can't explain. I can only say that if I practise reserve at -all, it is only because of my tender affection for you. Can you believe -that blindly, without explanation? And will you?" - -"I believe whatever you tell me, Margaret, and I do not wish to hear -anything that for any reason you do not wish me to hear." - -"Thank you, dear," said the agitated girl as she again pressed her -horse to his paces; "God help me if I'm wrong!" - -There was so strong a suggestion of tragedy in the girl's tone that -Millicent felt herself called upon to interfere with Margaret's -purpose, which she instinctively understood and which seemed to her -scarcely less than suicidal. She said nothing so long as the horses -were moving swiftly. When they resumed the walk, she turned to her -companion and asked: - -"Do you believe in my friendship, Margaret, and do you trust its -loyalty so far as to forgive an impertinence in its behalf?" - -"I certainly do, Millicent. I could never--" - -"Listen, then, and don't interrupt. I know far more about this matter -than anybody has ever told me. My woman's instinct has instructed me. -It may be in error as to details, but I am right as to the essentials, -and in such a case it is the essentials alone that need be considered. -I'll tell you the story of the situation as I understand it. You are -not a woman to love lightly, or lightly to forget." - -Margaret well nigh fell from her horse as she heard her own -passionately uttered words thus repeated in merely explanatory fashion, -but in a moment she realized that this was purely a coincidence. -Millicent had chosen the words for herself; she could not have heard -them as a quotation. - -"There may be many fancies to a woman like you, but there can be only -one passionate, self-giving, all-surrendering love. It is commonly said -that there is no such thing as self-sacrificing loyalty or friendship -between women--that while we may heroically sacrifice ourselves for the -love of a man we never sacrifice that love in loyalty to a woman. It is -a slander on our sex. I accepted it as true until very recently; indeed -I saw many things to confirm it. I know better now." - -She paused for a considerable time, but Margaret did not prompt her to -go on. Perhaps she foresaw what was coming, and at any rate she saw -clearly that there was struggle and disturbance in Millicent's mind. - -After awhile the girl resumed: - -"The one love of your life, Margaret, is for Mr. Boyd Westover. It -began long before you knew it and it will last as long as you live. Now -I am going to make a shameful confession," she added. Then she broke -into a gallop, but when the horses resumed a moderate pace she did not -make the confession. Perhaps she shrank from it. Perhaps she deemed it -unnecessary. Perhaps she thought its making might tend rather to -complicate than to simplify the problems in hand. However that may be, -she made no further reference to the matter, but took up her parable -where she had laid it down. - -"Something, I don't know what--yes, I do, but I don't know why--has -come between you and Mr. Boyd Westover. I am not blind, and I think I -am not stupid. There were unopened letters there from him to you, and -other unopened letters from you to him. Without asking anybody any -questions I know that for some reason somebody has sought to cut off -communication between him and you. I see clearly that that purpose has -been accomplished, and I see that as a consequence he has been thinking -you fickle and treacherous, as women so often are, and you have been -thinking him disloyal and dishonorable." - -"No, no, no," interrupted Margaret. "I have never accused him of -disloyalty or dishonor, even in my wildest moments of perplexity and -distress. I have never for one moment doubted his honor. It is only -that I have been unable to conjecture why he left me in silence, when -in fact he was writing great, manly, loving letters to me every day. -Oh, Millicent, it was cruel, and I can never forgive--" - -She did not need mention the name. - -"You haven't read Mr. Westover's unopened letters," suggested Millicent. - -"No, I have no right now. They were written in the past, when he loved -and trusted me. He might not wish me to read them now. He might not -feel in the same way toward me now that he did then." - -"That's stuff and nonsense, I think, Margaret. I really do. If I were -you I should read the letters carefully. Then I should sit down and -write to Mr. Boyd Westover, enclosing the letters you wrote to him at -that time and explaining how all the trouble had come about." - -"That would never, never do. It would be throwing myself like a -cast-off garment at his feet. It would be asking him to renew relations -that he may have been glad to forget." - -"You say that, Margaret, but you don't believe it. Neither do I." - -"I think, Millicent, you don't understand our conventionalities down -here. It would be impossible for any Virginia girl, under such -circumstances, to take the initiative in reopening relations. That is -the prerogative of the gentleman in the case." - -"But when the gentleman doesn't know the facts, and the woman does, -what then?" - -"That makes no possible difference." - -"You are right on one point, Margaret. I do not understand your -conventions, nor do I in the least sympathize with them. They are shams -and falsities, as all conventionalities are, and they are cruel beyond -measure. They decree that where a mistake has been made and the woman -discovers it, she must let wreck and ruin overwhelm two lives--her own -and that of the man she loves--rather than send to him a simple and -easy explanation of the mistake that has made the trouble. No, I do not -understand such conventions. What are you going to do?" - -"I'll place the whole thing in my father's hands, and he shall do what -he will with it." - -"And as to the one who has wrought all this mischief?" - -"My relations with my Aunt Betsy will be changed. Come! We must hurry -back to the house. I want my father to know what has happened." - -They trotted on for a space, when suddenly Millicent reined in her -horse and Margaret stopped in company, for Millicent had come to a -complete halt in the roadway. For a moment the two confronted each -other without a word, for Millicent, sitting on her horse with -compressed lips and set jaw, did not at first explain herself. After a -while she said: - -"I cannot sit idly by and see two glorious young lives wrecked when a -next to nothing would save both. I am a Yankee, of Boston, but so was -Paul Revere. Let me have those letters. Ask me no questions, but let me -ride as Paul Revere did!" - -For a moment Margaret hesitated. The temptation was very great, but she -put it aside. - -"That would never do, Millicent," she said. "I understand your loving -loyalty and I am grateful for it, but that would never do. To Mr. -Westover you would be my emissary, no matter what you might say. It -would be the same as if I went to him myself." - -"Is your decision final, or may I argue the matter?" Millicent asked. - -"It is final," Margaret answered, and not another word was spoken -during the remainder of the homeward journey. - - - - -XXX - -WHAT HAD HAPPENED AT THE OAKS - - -That little jaunt on horseback that Margaret, with her friend, took by -way of steadying her nerves, was perhaps a mistake. If she had gone to -her father at once, while "Aunt Betsy" was making herself comfortable -in bed, the impulsive old gentleman would have been off on a journey to -Wanalah within five minutes, and his intent to explain and make -reparation would have accomplished its purpose instantly. - -But Margaret went riding instead, and no sooner did "Aunt Betsy" learn -of the fact than she made a quick recovery from her illness, and almost -before the two young women were out of sight of the house, "Aunt -Betsy," tearful and in every other way appealing, was closeted with -Colonel Conway. She thus gained the distinct advantage of being first -on the ground. Her tears and her agitation appealed strongly to the -protective instinct of the chivalric old soldier. She told him in her -own way what had happened, diverting his attention from her own -misconduct by lamentations and copious weepings and protestations that -in all she had done she had sought only to protect the honor and -dignity of the family and to prevent Margaret--"an unformed girl"--from -compromising herself in her ignorance of the world. - -It would be too much to say that she convinced her brother of the -righteousness of her conduct. Tampering with letters--even without -reading them--was to him a point of special sensitiveness, and there -were other matters involved which he could in no wise reconcile with -his conceptions of honorable conduct. But he recognized the weakness of -women as a palliation of misconduct, and his sister's tearful appeals -to him for the protection of her dignity affected him in the tenderest -part of his nature. - -He was profoundly displeased with her, but she was his sister, -nevertheless, and he was her natural protector. It was his duty and his -desire to spare her, so far as might be possible, but he felt also the -obligation to censure and correct her. - -"You have done a gravely improper thing, Betsy," he said, with -sternness and tenderness struggling for mastery in his tone. "Indeed -what you have done is unpardonable, inexcusable,--except that as a -woman you did not know the enormity of your act." - -"That is the main point, Robert," she interrupted, "and I beg you to -bear it in mind. All I did was done with good intentions. I am -naturally solicitous for the honor of our family, and I--" - -"And you did a dishonorable thing in that behalf," he said with -severity in his tone. "In your desire to protect the family name you -did a thing that would forever subject it to shame, if it should become -known." - -"That is it, Robert. It mustn't become known. I depend upon you, as the -head of the family, to prevent that. Blame me as severely as you will, -but don't expose me, don't subject me to criticism and scorn! Oh, -Robert, I beg you to protect me!" - -"I'll protect you of course," he replied, "but you have made it -difficult and exceedingly embarrassing for me to do so. I have my own -conscience to reckon with. You have made me do things, in ignorance of -the facts--I may as well be frank and say you have deliberately -deceived me into the doing of wrongs for which I know not how to atone -or even apologize. If you were not my sister, if you were not under my -protection, if I could be indifferent to your feelings--my course would -be simple and easy. A frank, manly statement of the facts would -exonerate me. As it is--" - -"As it is, Robert, you cannot subject your sister to humiliation. You -_must_ protect me from shame. You must take pains that what has -happened shall never be known outside this house!" - -It was at this stage of the conversation that Margaret entered. "Aunt -Betsy," confident that she had secured herself, said: - -"I will leave you to talk with your father, Margaret, if you desire." - -"No," the young woman answered; "I prefer that you should remain. I, at -least, have nothing to conceal, and I do not seek, as you do, to get my -father's ear in private. Besides, I have some things to say to you, and -I prefer to say them in my father's presence. I am mistress of The -Oaks. Hitherto, out of a respect which you have not justified, I have -permitted you to exercise certain functions that belong to me. I shall -do so no longer. I have given directions that hereafter I will make up -the outgoing mail bag and open the incoming one." - -"But, my dear child--" - -"I am not a child, Aunt Betsy. You have made some grievous mistakes in -forgetfulness of that fact. It shall not be forgotten again while I -remain mistress of this plantation. What was it you were going to say, -Aunt Betsy? I beg pardon for interrupting, but it seemed necessary." - -"I was going to ask what the servants will think." - -"I do not know what they will think, Aunt Betsy." - -"On that point I must appeal to your father," "Aunt Betsy" replied. - -"On that point it is _very dangerous for you to appeal_," answered the -younger woman, still preserving an extraordinary calm that was at once -astonishing and alarming to her aunt, but speaking with a degree of -emphasis that suggested something behind the words. - -"What do you mean? Explain yourself," said "Aunt Betsy," in that -authoritative tone which she had all her life employed in addressing -her niece. - -"I will explain if you wish," Margaret answered; "but I'd rather spare -you the explanation." - -"I insist upon knowing what you mean," the elder woman unwisely replied. - -"Very well, then; you shall hear. In addition to the wrong you have -done me, wrecking my life and placing me in a grievously false -position; in addition to the wrong you have done to another, you have -been guilty of the crime of robbing the United States mails, Aunt -Betsy, and as the minimum penalty of that crime is a long term in -prison, I do not think it wise of you to suggest appeals in this case. -It will be better, I think, to accept my decision as final." - -[Illustration: "It will be better, I think, to accept my decision as -final." _Page 365_.] - -The old lady rose in wrath, alarm, indignation and all the other -emotions of an exciting sort, and demanded to know what her niece meant -by such an accusation of infamy. At the same time Colonel Conway -exclaimed: - -"Oh, daughter, daughter, you do not mean what you say. Take it back! -You are excited. You are beside yourself!" - -"I am not in the least excited," the young woman answered. "I did not -wish or intend to mention that aspect of the matter, but Aunt Betsy -insisted upon it. I have no desire to emphasize it or to insist upon -it, if only my authority as mistress at The Oaks is properly -recognized. As your daughter, Father, I am entitled to that dignity -which you yourself have been fond of insisting upon; and as your -daughter I intend to exercise the authority and maintain the dignity of -that position so long as you permit me to hold it. When you cease to -permit that, I shall leave The Oaks and go to my own plantation of Tye, -which my mother left me. You must remember that I am a grown woman of -twenty-one, and that I am not a dependent upon anybody." - -"Now, daughter," interrupted Colonel Conway with affection, "you are -talking nonsense. You know that you are mistress of The Oaks, and--" - -"That is quite all I am insisting upon. As mistress of The Oaks I do -not intend to have my authority questioned or my affairs interfered -with by anybody. I'm sorry I have this occasion to assert myself, but -the circumstances are not of my making." - -"But what do you mean, you--you--you ill-regulated girl,--in charging -me with a crime?" almost shrieked the elder woman as she confronted her -niece in an attitude that suggested a desire to shake her. "What do you -mean? What do you mean?" - -"You'd better let that phase of the affair drop, Aunt Betsy," answered -the girl with a calm that additionally exasperated her aunt. - -"No, I will not let it drop. You have uttered an accusation that I -cannot and will not let pass. You must say what you meant by it." - -"I will say it if you insist," answered Margaret, still preserving her -exasperating calm. - -"I do insist. I will not rest under such an accusation. Go on! Tell me -what you meant." - -"I will," said Margaret. "You remember that five years ago an attempt -was made to open our mail bag in some political interest. Father -appealed to the Government for its protection, and from that day to -this it has gone back and forth under a United States mail lock. In -tampering with its contents--in abstracting from it letters addressed -to me, you--I don't like to put the matter into plain words. Let me say -instead that you violated the law which renders the United States mail -sacred. I'm sorry I have had to call your attention to such a matter, -but you forced the necessity upon me." - -By this time it was necessary to summon maids and get "Aunt Betsy" back -to bed again,--genuinely ill this time. - -It was not until she was made as comfortable as circumstances -permitted, that Colonel Conway and his daughter returned to the library -and resumed their conversation. - -"Now, daughter," said the old soldier, "I am ready to do anything to -right this wrong--anything, of course, that will not compromise your -aunt." - -"Father," responded the girl with a world of tenderness in her voice, -"you ought not to have anything to do in the matter. It is Aunt Betsy -who has wrought all the mischief. She has deceived you; she has -deceived me; she has deceived Mr. Westover. It should be her duty, not -yours, to undo the wrong she has done." - -"But, my dear daughter, how can she? She is a woman." - -"I know that, Father, and I know our Virginian view of such things. But -it is all wrong. You men of Virginia have granted to us women a license -that ought not to be. If one of us utters a slander, you hold -yourselves responsible for it even unto death. If one of us lies--it -isn't a ladylike term, I know, but it is what I mean--if one of us lies -you hold yourselves bound to maintain the lie and answer for it, even -at the pistol's point. You Virginia gentlemen insist upon only one -point of honor for women. So long as we observe that, we may lie and -cheat and slander at will and you sustain us in it. It is all wrong. If -a woman does mischief, she should herself atone for it. In this case it -is Aunt Betsy who has wrought the wrong and it is Aunt Betsy who should -undo it." - -"But how can she, dear?" - -"By going to Mr. Westover, or writing to him, and saying frankly: 'I -robbed the post bag of your letters to Margaret and her letters to -you.' That is what a brave man would do. Why should not a brave woman -do the same?" - -"But, daughter, your aunt is a lady and excessively sensitive." - -"She forgot to be a lady when she did this infamous thing, and her -sensitiveness is mainly a pretence assumed to play upon your chivalry -and to deceive you and others. If she were honest in mind, a real, -genuine, conscientious sensitiveness would prompt her to make precisely -the reparation I have suggested. As she is utterly dishonest and -dishonorable instead, I quite understand that no force, moral or -physical, could ever compel her to an act of reparation like that." - -"My dear, you are very hard upon your poor old aunt." - -"Not at all, Father. Truth is as much an obligation of women as of men. -So is courage of the moral sort. But it is idle to expect that after -generations in which you gentlemen of Virginia have excused us from all -obligations except that of chastity. You have assumed our protection, -and you have met that obligation bravely; but--well, I have thought -much on that subject, and what I have thought is of no consequence. -What are you going to do by way of righting the wrong Aunt Betsy has -done, as you excuse her from the obligation of herself righting it?" - -"I'll do anything you suggest--anything that will not compromise your -aunt. You see I must protect her." - -"I understand. The one who has wrought the wrong must be spared the -consequences. The victims of it must bear them. I have nothing whatever -to suggest, Father." - -And with that she advanced, kissed him tenderly, said: - -"Poor, dear old Dad!" and quietly left the room. - -Then it was that Colonel Conway set himself to satisfy his daughter's -conscience and his own by writing a letter to Boyd Westover. Then it -was that, after repeated failures, he compromised with his conscience -by writing to Dr. Carley Farnsworth instead. - -Then it was that under Dr. Carley Farnsworth's instructions Millicent -Danvers sent Colonel Conway and Margaret to bed. - -"Aunt Betsy" was already sleeping the sleep of one who feels that she -has adroitly escaped uncomfortable consequences. - - - - -XXXI - -A SUNSET INTERVIEW - - -The days were growing short, and so when Jack Towns approached The Oaks -that afternoon, the sun was setting and Millicent was watching it from -a little hilltop just beyond the orchard and perhaps half a mile from -the house. - -Jack came upon her there and was fascinated with the picture she -presented. With her head bare and her hair in some disorder as a result -of facing the west wind too fearlessly, she wore upon her shoulders a -voluminous mass of fleecy knitted work known in those days as a -"nubia," or, by those who preferred good English to very bad dog-Latin, -a "cloud." As he approached from the east he saw her figure silhouetted -against the glowing western sky, and the grace of it fascinated him. It -was like a great picture--suggesting one of Turner's interpretations of -Venice, with an absorbing human interest added to the glow and glory of -it. - -For to Jack Towns the girl who turned to greet him as he rode up was a -very absorbing human interest indeed. The hour he had passed in -converse with her on the day before, had left him with a glamor upon -him which even his jaunty indifference to permanent impressions could -not dismiss. He had been moved to make this special visit to The Oaks -by an irresistible desire to see more of a young woman whose -superiority of mind and character was strongly impressed upon him, and -whose very peculiarities--mainly due to differences of environment and -education--were strangely appealing to his imagination. - -Upon approaching her there upon the little, sun illumined hilltop, he -dismounted, and, with bridle rein over his arm, joined her in -admiration of the glowing sunset. - -[Illustration: He dismounted, and, with his bridle rein over his arm, -joined her.--_Page 373_.] - -After the first greetings were over she said: - -"Do you know, Mr. Towns, I think that is where your chivalry comes -from?" And as she said it, she waved her hand toward the horizon with -its gold and purple, intermingled with pinks and blues and exquisite -greens that the dyer's art has never matched. - -"I mean," she added without waiting to be asked for an explanation, -"that you Virginians are inspired with gentleness and chivalry by the -quality of the climate in which you live, and that your sunsets give -color to your imaginings of courage, optimism, and high endeavor." - -"I doff my hat in acknowledgement of the double compliment," he said, -"to our climate and to our manhood. But surely fine sunsets are not our -exclusive possession. You must have such at the North?" - -"Sometimes--not often. They are so rare indeed that we make note of -them and recall them afterwards as pleasant memories." - -"But isn't that because you live in a large city where the vapors of -industry cloud the sky and shut out nature's displays?" - -"I do not live in a large city, Mr. Towns, except for the two or three -worst months of the year, and not always even then. I live on the 'blue -hills of Milton.' My father has a country place there, and since he has -grown old enough to relax a little in his business enterprises, we live -there almost all the year round. So you see I know our climate quite -irrespective of the factory chimneys and their fumes. The sunset is -dying out. I don't like to see the death of beauty or grandeur or glory -of any kind. Let's turn our faces toward the house." - -As they turned Jack Towns in his own mind formulated his impressions in -this wise: - -"Here is a young woman who can think for herself and without any regard -whatever for the conventions of thought; she is inspired with an -appreciation of truth and beauty, which is only another way of saying -that she is a poet in her soul--thank God she is not a poet in the -magazines, for that would be dreadful. She has common sense, too, in an -uncommon abundance. Jack Towns, you are falling in love in a way you -never dreamed of before, and the fact doesn't alarm you in the least." - -As his meditations kept him silent for a longer time than is usual when -youth and beauty walk together in the gloaming, Millicent was the first -to speak. - -"I wish you could know our 'blue hills of Milton.' They have some -attractions of their own." - -"They certainly have," he answered. "I know them--at least in a small -way." - -"Why, how did that come about?" she asked in surprise. "I understood -you to say you were never in Boston but once." - -"'And that same is thrue for you,' as my Irish office attendant would -say. I was never in Boston until a few weeks ago, when I went thither -to arrange some financial affairs for a client of mine"--he did not -mention Westover's name. "I had some negotiations with a banking firm -there, and the head of the establishment was exceedingly courteous to -me. He took me to his country place to spend the Sunday. By a curious -coincidence, his surname is the same as yours--Danvers. He's the head -of the banking house of Danvers, Appleton and Wentworth. I wonder if by -any chance he's a relative of yours. At any rate he deserves to be. For -a more courtly gentleman I have never met. He's the sort of educated, -refined, polished, considerate person that only three States in this -Union produce, so far as I have been able to observe." - -"Which are the three States, please,--that is to say, if you are free -to designate them?" - -"Massachusetts, Virginia, and South Carolina. Mind, I don't say that -such gentlemen are not found in other States. It is only that those of -them whom I have personally met have happened to be sons of one or -other of the three States mentioned." - -"I suppose there is a reason for that," answered Millicent. - -"What is it?" he inquired in answer. - -"They are the three oldest commonwealths," she answered, "and the three -most conservative. You have a saying here in Virginia--a true saying, I -think--that 'it takes three generations to make a gentleman.' The three -States you have named have lived their own lives for a good many more -than three generations, and so they have had time to make gentlemen. -Still--" - -She did not continue her sentence, till Towns urged her to do so. Then -she said: - -"I was going to say that about the most perfect gentleman I ever met -was Jake Greenfield, a Vermonter, without education beyond what he -called the 'rujimenteries,' whom I met in the Rocky Mountains." - -"Tell me about him," implored Jack, saying nothing of his own -acquaintance with Jake, who had been his companion and shrewd adviser -during his stay in the Rocky Mountains in Boyd Westover's interest. -"Tell me about him." - -"I will," she answered. "I am always pleased to celebrate his virtues. -Jake is ignorant, unfamiliar with the ways of society, and wholly -unformed as to his manners, but he is instinctively a gentleman. He -habitually eats with his knife--a dirk-like thing that he carries in -his belt. He has no hesitation about sitting at table and picking his -teeth with a fork. It never occurs to him to apologize for lighting his -pipe at table or quitting the company before the others have done. None -of the conventions of civilized life have dawned upon his intelligence -as matters worthy of attention. When I knew him, if a single pie sat -before him he would carefully count noses and divide it equally; but if -the table were well dotted with pies he would seize upon the one -nearest him and devour it from his hand without enlisting the services -of knife or fork in aid of the process. - -"I met him in the Rocky Mountains where my father had some mining -interests, and I was a good deal distressed and disgusted by his lack -of manners until I came to know the real man who lived under so rough -an exterior." - -"How did that come about? Tell me, please," said Jack Towns as he -handed his companion up the two or three steps that led to the porch. - -"It was a rather thrilling experience," she answered, "at least in its -beginning. I was only a girl then of eighteen or nineteen. I had gone -to the Rockies with my father for the sake of 'roughing it,' as they -say out there, and enjoying the out-of-door life. I was in the habit of -riding alone, anywhere I pleased, for the region was a wilderness and -nobody lived in it except a few surface miners. One day I rode away -till I came to a little stream, a few inches deep, which was crossed by -a ford. The road to and from the stream had been cut by nature or by -man, through bluff banks, twenty feet high. I crossed the stream, -scarcely wetting the fetlocks of my horse. I rode up through the cut on -the other side to the high ground above, and thence on through a -delightfully wild region, until presently it began to rain in that -sudden and torrential way that belongs to the Rocky Mountains. I turned -my horse about and trotted him somewhat hurriedly toward the ford I had -crossed. When I got there I found the trickling little brook swollen to -a mountain torrent, but I did not recognize the change as a matter of -consequence. I saw that the water had risen, but to me that meant only -that where I had had to make my horse wade fetlock deep before, I must -make him wade knee deep now. I pushed him into the stream and almost -instantly he was swept from his footing. The depth required swimming, -and the onrush of the waters was so great that swimming across the -stream was impossible. The horse made a gallant struggle to reach the -other side within the roadway space, but he was swept away down stream. -I was afloat on his back, imprisoned as it were between two -perpendicular bluffs that offered no point of possible landing or -rescue. - -"Just as I fully realized my situation Jake Greenfield, mounted upon a -strong horse, appeared on the bank above. - -"'Hold on for your life!' he cried to me, 'an' I'll be with you in half -a minute.' With that he turned his horse's head and rode away for -thirty or forty paces. Then, suddenly turning about, he rode straight -toward the bluff, digging spurs into his horse's flanks at every step, -and lashing his rumps with a black snake whip by way of making sure -that he should not refuse the leap. A moment later there was a splash -and a struggle in the water. Jake Greenfield's horse had leaped into -the stream from the bluff twenty feet or more above, with Jake -Greenfield on his back, and the two had sunk beneath the flood within a -few feet of me as I clung to my horse. - -"After a few moments both came to the surface, and the snortings of the -horse indicated that his breathing capacity was impaired. By way of -sparing him Jake slipped off the saddle and took hold of a stirrup -strap as a towing line. But his poor horse's powers were exhausted and -he could sustain himself no longer. He gave up the struggle and sank -beneath the flood, a martyr to the duty he owed to his master--man. -Pardon me, I'm making a long story of this, but the details interest me -so." - -"They interest me, too," quickly responded her companion. "You cannot -narrate them in too minute detail to please me. I could listen all -night to the story. Go on, please." - -"Well, Jake continued to swim until presently he caught my horse's tail -and used it as a means of keeping up with me. Then he said: - -"'Turn him to the right! Keep close in shore. There's a little break in -the bluffs just ahead, and may be we can make it! More to the right! -Closer in shore! There! There's the break. Make him catch bottom there -if you can,' You see, Mr. Towns, every word spoken at that time was -burned into my memory, and I recall every detail as vividly as if the -thing had happened yesterday, or even to-day. - -"I succeeded in 'beaching' my horse at that little break in the bank. -It was literally like beaching him, for no sooner had he taken three or -four steps through shoaling water toward the land, than he lay down, -utterly exhausted." - -Here the girl stopped in her narrative, as if it had been done. Jack -Towns had no mind thus to lose the climax. - -"You haven't told me yet in what way Jake proved himself a gentleman." - -"That is true," she answered, "and it was that that I set out to tell -you. Somehow heroism always appeals to me, and in telling you of Jake's -heroism I forgot the other end of the story. I was soaked through, of -course, and chilled to the bone. So Jake took me by the arm--he wanted -to take me on his back but I wouldn't let him--and hurried me to one of -his cabins. You see, as caretaker of the mining lands, he had several -cabins, scattered about over them. He told me there was a motherly old -squaw there who would look after me, but when we got there the squaw, -after the manner of her race, had wandered away somewhere and was not -likely to return. Jake built a big fire in the cabin chimney, and then -went outside, telling me to 'shuck off them soakin' clothes' and wrap -myself up in the quilts that covered the sole orderly bed in the place. -As I did so I bethought me of the conventionalities, and when Jake came -back to cook my supper and dry my clothes, I protested that I could not -consent to stay there alone, and without even a squaw to sustain my -dignity. I simply must go to my father, I said, and when he objected -that the mountain torrent lay between and was by this time twenty-fold -fiercer in its fury than when I had dared it before, I declared that it -made no difference; that at all hazards I must make my way to my -father's quarters that night. By way of making the matter impersonal -and in that way sparing his feelings, I dwelt upon the anxiety my -father must feel for me. I think Jake understood my real objection to -the situation. Indeed I know he did, for by way of reply he said: - -"'Ef you only could rest quiet here an' not worrit overmuch, I've been -a-plannin' to go up the mountain to where the stream don't 'mount to -nothin', an' cross it an' go down an' tell Mr. Danvers as how you is -safe an' sound nevertheless of your bein' tired out an' chilly an' all -that. Ef you kin spare me, I'd like to do that.' - -"Not at all realizing the fact that that torrent had its beginning -twenty miles away and in mountains so precipitous that no man could -scale them, I gave eager consent to his proposal, and after preparing -such supper as he could for me, the devoted fellow--no, the chivalric -gentleman, I mean--set forth in the torrential rain. I learned -afterwards that he toiled up the stream for six miles, plunged into it -and the darkness, breasted his way across it as it swept him down its -resistless current, and with difficulty effected a landing on the -opposite side four miles below his starting point. Thence he trudged -through the darkness and the rain to my father's quarters, where rescue -parties were forming to hunt for me. That's the story. Don't you agree -with me that Jake's a gentleman in the true sense of the word?" - -"All that is what I should have expected of Jake," answered the young -man. "You see I've just returned from that region, and during my stay -there I was closely associated with him." - -The girl uttered a little exclamation of astonishment; then, with that -perfect self-possession which Jack Towns had found to be the most -fascinating thing about her, she added: - -"Confidence deserves confidence in return, and before you go," for Jack -had risen and the two were advancing toward his restless, pawing horse, -"it seems only fair to tell you that what you have said of the Boston -banker who entertained you over Sunday has been very gratifying to me, -for the reason that the gentleman concerned is my father, and the house -you found so hospitable is my home. I sincerely hope you'll have other -occasions to visit us there." - -Jack's instant thought was: - -"I'll make the occasions, and I'll do it pretty soon too," but he -confined his speech to the courtesies of the moment, and a minute later -he was riding at half speed toward Wanalah, wondering if his absence -had kept supper waiting, and not caring in the least whether it had -done so or not. - - - - -XXXII - -WHAT HAPPENED AT FIGHTING CREEK - - -In Virginia in the late fifties there was no question of principle or -policy or anything else at issue between the Whig and Democratic -parties. Even in national politics there was none. The Whigs were -supposed to represent tariff protection and internal improvements. The -Democrats stood for free trade and sailors' rights, but neither the one -nor the other of these cries represented anything vital, any policy -that was pending. - -In Virginia the instinct of self-preservation, awakened by hostility at -the North to the institution of slavery, had stimulated both parties to -an intemperate, uncompromising, relentless advocacy of slavery as a -system right in itself,--a thing that nobody really believed,--and -whenever Whig and Democrat met in debate, the only question between -them was which could go to the greatest extreme in that direction. -There were the old antagonisms between the two parties. They were still -remembered with bitterness, and men grew excited and even violent in -their discussion; but nobody on either side could have said what they -meant, for the sufficient reason that they meant just nothing at all. -There was a new, Free Soil party rapidly gaining strength at the North, -and by both Whigs and Democrats in Virginia that party was regarded as -the common enemy, to be fought to the death. But while waiting for -that, the Whigs and Democrats fought each other for precedence and -place. - -Political speaking under such conditions was apt to be uninteresting to -others than the speakers, unless it involved something of accidental -and unusual moment. If any speaker under the excitement of perfervid -oratory happened to use terms which his adversary could construe to be -offensive to himself, there was instantly awakened the interest that -pertains to a quarrel which may presently ripen into a duel or a street -fight. - -Nothing of that kind occurred at Fighting Creek on the day after Jack -Towns's visit to Millicent, but some other things occurred that gave -peculiar interest to the occasion. Carley Farnsworth read from the -platform the note in which Colonel Conway pledged himself to the -support of Westover's nomination. That in itself was a staggering blow -to Webb's candidacy. As Foggy, whose phrases were apt to be -picturesque, put the matter: - -"It knocks the underpinnin' out of our campaign, and it looks to me, -Webb, as if it might knock the stuffin' out'n you." - -But staggering as the announcement was, there was far worse to come. - -When Sam Butler, the Democratic candidate for Senator, had emptied his -mind and mouth of all the florid rhetorical phrases he had sat up of -nights to construct, he brought a matter of practical political -importance to the front. - -"I have endeavored to show you, my fellow citizens, that Democratic -principles ought to triumph in this election; but neither you nor I can -fail to see that there is no chance of that in this senatorial -district. After consultation with my friends and political advisers, I -have decided that the issue lies solely between the regular and the -independent Whig candidates; and as between these two I think no -Democrat can hesitate to choose Mr. Boyd Westover as the fittest man to -represent us. I therefore resign my own candidacy in Mr. Westover's -behalf, and I urge all my friends, all loyal Democrats in the district, -to vote for him. I have been moved to this decision by impulses of -patriotism and by a sense of duty to the district and to my fellow -citizens." - -This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, and for a full minute the -crowd stood paralyzed with astonishment. Then Butler's most active -supporter--by prearrangement of course--leaped to the platform and -cried out: - -"Friends, Democrats, patriots! It occurs to me that our party in this -county has named no candidate for the lower house of the Legislature. -In order that the Democratic vote shall not be completely unrecorded, I -move that we now name Samuel Butler, Esq., for that honorable place. -His candidacy for that will in no way interfere with his -self-sacrificing decision to take himself out of the senatorial -campaign. I ask all Democrats here present to gather in the prize barn -across the road, to consider this suggestion." - -A "prize barn" was one in which there were appliances for pressing leaf -tobacco into hogsheads. - -Ten minutes later it was announced that the late Democratic candidate -for Senator had been unanimously nominated for the House of Delegates. - -"Now I know," said Carley Farnsworth to himself, "what Edgar Coffey's -message from Judy to Butler meant. It's the shrewdest bit of play I -ever heard of. By securing his withdrawal from the senatorial contest, -the Queen of the Mountains has enormously swelled Boyd's planter vote. -And by way of accomplishing that she has promised the mountain vote to -Butler for the lower office, and it will elect him beyond a doubt. On -the whole, I reckon I won't explain the matter to Westover. He's -quixotic, and he knows nothing of politics. But, by Jove, it was a -master stroke on Judy's part." - -That night when Edgar Coffey made his report to Judy, telling her of -the adroit and graceful way in which the program had been carried out -by Butler, her comment was: - -"Some folks has more sense'n you'd think." - -When he had told her of the confidence with which Webb was reckoning -upon the mountain vote to offset the loss, she added: - -"An' some folks ain't got the sense the law allows 'em." - -But if Webb had less political sense "than the law allowed him," there -were certain of his followers who were better endowed. Foggy, in -particular, realized the situation, and, by way of meeting it, summoned -Webb and a dozen or so of his immediate supporters to a conference in -the hostelry of a neighboring county seat. - -There Foggy laid down the law to the optimistic candidate. - -"These here two happenings," he said, "mean trouble. All the swell Whig -planters who were holding back because of Colonel Conway's stand will -now vote for Westover, and use their influence to make their overseers -and others do the same. Every Democrat in the district will vote for -him as a matter of course. They want to beat the regular Whig nominee, -and now that they haven't a candidate of their own, they'll vote for -Westover. Now what have we got to meet all this with?" - -Webb suggested the mountain vote, and Foggy instantly replied: - -"So far as I can see, we ain't got no mortgage on that, and if we are -to carry it we've got to go after it." - -So they went on discussing the situation, ending by ordering a vigorous -campaign in the mountains with Webb for leader and Judy Peters as the -Dominant Power to be approached with negotiations. - -When Jack Towns heard of this program, he went to Carley Farnsworth in -some alarm, to suggest some counter move. - -"I am conducting this campaign," answered the little doctor, "and I am -in confidential relations with Judy. I'll tell you, Jack, but you must -keep the secret, that it was Judy herself who conceived and planned and -organized Boyd's candidacy. She made one of the best diagnoses I ever -heard of in his case, and her therapeutics is matchless. Let her alone. -She has made up her mind to elect Westover with such a majority as -shall be convincing even to him, and she will do it you may be sure. If -she wants to see any of us she'll have Edgar Coffey whisper a hint of -her desire into our ears. Until she does that we mustn't interfere. She -might resent it as a reflection on her skill in political management. -Now let me drop a hint into your ear. I said just now that I was -managing this campaign. That was a vainglorious boast. I didn't -persuade Butler to retire in Westover's favor, but somebody arranged -that. Have you any idea who it was? And if at the end of the campaign -Butler should find himself elected to the lower house of the -Legislature by virtue of the entire mountain vote added to the regular -Democratic poll down here, do you imagine for an instant that the -result would take him by surprise? Now keep mum about all these things. -I am only making suggestions by way of preventing you from making -mistakes. Don't say a word to Boyd about it." - - - - -XXXIII - -CONSPIRACIES - - -Jack Towns was particularly pleased with the reassurance that -Farnsworth gave him respecting the campaign. It set him free. In his -loyalty to Boyd Westover he would have ridden all night and all day in -aid of his friend's election; but he greatly preferred to go to Dr. -Carver's and dance all night with Millicent. - -In fact he did very nearly that. He put his name down on her card for -every set that wasn't taken in advance, and he danced all of them but -three or four which she elected to "sit out." If she had been -accompanied by a chaperon, she would have had to restrict Mr. Towns's -allowance of sets, but chaperons were not deemed necessary for -well-bred young women in Virginia. Such young women were supposed to -know how to behave properly, and as for protection, was not the entire -adult male population ready and eager to render it upon occasion? - -Moreover, Jack Towns did not in fact secure an undue proportion of -Millicent's sets, for the reason that all the young men in the company, -who managed to get possession of her card in time, put their names on -it, for one dance each. She rigidly restricted them to one. Perhaps she -considered Jack. But she put no restriction on Jack Towns in the -matter, and Jack was so ill-mannered in his infatuation that he asked -no other young woman for her card, except in the case of Charlotte -Deane. Charlotte was no longer as young as she could have wished, and -she was distinctly not beautiful or brilliant. So Jack, observing that -there were no throngs of young men about her, asked for her card and -put his name down for two dances. - -For the rest, he devoted his attention to Millicent Danvers until -everybody was set wondering if at last Jack Towns had really and truly -fallen in love. The same question arose in Jack's own mind, but he, at -least, was able to answer it. "Yes," he admitted to himself, "I have -had many fleeting fancies before, but none that resembled this. I am -determined to win Millicent Danvers if devotion can accomplish it. I -never felt in that way before. Always I have felt, that while one young -woman pleased me, there were others who might be equally pleasing. I -don't feel so now. It is Millicent Danvers now, or nobody with me. I -wonder what she will think of my big, disorderly bachelor establishment -if she ever consents to be its mistress? I'll wager something handsome -that she'll--well, it will be time enough to speculate on that when I -have won her. By the way, she would say that differently--'when I shall -have won her.' Anyhow my present task is to win her. If I do that she -will take care of the rest. And after all a bachelor establishment -isn't a home. Just think of the difference between my big house, where -everything is in chaos, and that home of hers among the blue hills of -Milton." - -So he went on, thinking, wondering, speculating, so long as she was -fulfilling an engagement to dance with somebody else whom he hated and -held in unmerited contempt without any assignable reason. And when his -own turn came and he danced with her, his fancies floated before his -eyes as a dream pervades the mind, a dream that so rejoices as to make -of waking a calamity. - -Millicent did well whatever she did at all. In dancing with her, Jack -felt that she simply lifted herself half an inch or so from the floor -and floated about without again touching it. It was a delight to dance -with her, as every young man who had enjoyed the experience stood ready -to testify, but Jack Towns rejoiced even more in "sitting out" a set. -For then, with her arm in his he could promenade the porches, or the -pair could stroll out into the grounds where common prudence and -courtesy required him frequently to readjust the wrappings that -protected her otherwise bare arms and shoulders, or, better still, he -could seek out a secluded nook in the porch or elsewhere, where they -two might talk of things that held interest for both of them in common. - -It was during one of these confabs, when they sat out two dances in -succession, that Jack Towns invited himself to Boston and to -Millicent's home in the blue hills of Milton. It came about in this -way. Jack was really and earnestly in love, for the first time in his -life, and the impulse to tell Millicent so was well nigh irresistible. -But Jack was a Virginian, and he recognized the right of a young woman -to be courted in her own home. He restrained his impulse of speech, -therefore, so far as open avowals were concerned, but his utterances, -short of a declaration, were such as to leave the young woman in no -doubt as to his attitude and purpose. - -When she spoke of her prospective home-going, he asked, a little -eagerly perhaps, when that was to occur. She answered: - -"It must be very soon--as soon as I shall have done a duty that rests -upon me. I'm sorry Mr. Boyd Westover isn't here to-night. He told me, -when I met him casually this afternoon, that he was obliged to return -to Wanalah." - -"I suppose he was," answered Jack Towns in a peculiarly inscrutable -tone that he adopted upon occasion. "But why? Do you particularly want -to see him?" - -"Yes, not only particularly but peremptorily. It is a part of the duty -I have set myself. I cannot go back to Boston till I do." - -"I see," he answered. "If you like I'll call at The Oaks and ask you to -ride with me. We can ride over to Wanalah, and I'll see to it that he -shall be there at the time." - -"Oh, no, no, no! That would never do. There are reasons which I cannot -explain, if you'll excuse me. I must meet Mr. Westover casually, quite -by accident as it were." - -"Very well, then," answered Jack, with all the confidence he was -accustomed to assume at a court trial when his case was an uncertain -one. "I'll arrange the accident and create the 'casualty.' You have -only to respond favorably to the invitations you receive during the -next few days. I'll take care of the rest." - -There was a certain masterful self-confidence in his words and tone -that was somehow exceedingly pleasing to Millicent. She felt that Jack -Towns was a man of limitless resource, a man accustomed to do things -and to get others to do things, a man to be leant upon with confidence, -and the feeling was altogether comforting. The thought that floated -vaguely through her mind, though she shrank from formulating it, was -that if ever Jack Towns should love a woman, that woman would be -exceedingly comfortable in the certainty that his care of her would be -always tenderly solicitous in its impulse, aggressively masterful in -its manifestation, and measurelessly ingenious in its devices of safety -for her against every ill. If she had permitted her thought to frame -itself, as she resolutely refused to do, it would have been to the -effect that he was a man into whose arms the woman he loved might throw -herself in full assurance of a welcome and in trustful confidence of -all-loving, all-daring protection. She did not let the thought -formulate itself, but it floated nebulously in her mind, which was -perhaps even more dangerous--if indeed there was any danger involved. - -In answer to his words she said: - -"You are certainly very good. I'll leave it to you to arrange for me, -and as soon as I know definitely that my duty is done, I shall go back -to Boston,--or at least as soon after that as my brother can come down -here to escort me. You know the journey is a trying one." - -"Yes, I know. But why trouble your brother needlessly? I shall be -obliged to go to Boston sometime soon, and if you permit, I shall be -glad to be your escort." - -Jack was not fibbing. It is true that he had no business that required -him to visit Boston, and yet he really felt it necessary for him to go -thither. He had fully decided to ask Millicent Danvers to become his -wife, and he must go to Boston for that. - -Millicent was right in saying that the journey was a trying one. In -that infant age of railroad service the trip from Richmond to Boston -involved eight or ten changes of cars, some of them at midnight. There -were no sleeping cars, no parlor cars, no dining cars, no buffet -cars--nothing in fact but rattletrap coaches, linked together with -chains and pins and controlled only by hand brakes. No car ran through, -or further than its own railway terminus. The connections were never -close, and for the waiting times between there were no accommodations -other than those which an open and often rain-drenched railway platform -afforded. - -But there was the question of chaperonage to be considered. Boston -notions on that subject were different from Virginia notions. In -Virginia it was held that a man in escort of a woman was in honor bound -to protect her not only against all others but against himself as well. -He must not, under such circumstances, permit his conversation even -remotely to approach the confines of courtship. He must maintain, from -beginning to end of the escorting, the attitude of one performing a -duty with absolutely unemotional and impersonal temper. The man -escorting was supposed to be a gentleman who would suffer no harm to -come to the woman under his escort, even if his life should be the -forfeit. - -But Jack Towns understood the difference between Northern and Southern -manners in that respect, and so, to his offer of escort, he promptly -added: - -"My good old negro Mammy will go with you, of course. She'll see that -you have all the comforts that are possible on such a trip." - -"But if you take her to Massachusetts she will be free, will she not?" -asked Millicent. - -"Free? Yes. She is free now to do as she pleases, and she regulates me -with the high hand, just as she did when I was a baby. Why she even -dominates my dress. Not long ago I came to breakfast with a blue cravat -on, and she made me change it on the ground that I had a murder case to -defend that day and she thought black would be more appropriate. When I -get ready to go to the club in the afternoon, she inspects me, and if -any detail of my costume fails to meet the exigent requirements of her -code, I have to make a change, no matter how hurried I am. Oh, she's -free. Why, she took away the breakfast I had ordered the cook to -prepare for me the other day because it included fried eggs, and she -was persuaded that fried eggs didn't agree with me. She is absolute -mistress in my establishment, and every darkey there recognizes the -fact. Her authority is supreme; mine is utterly subordinate. If I want -any change made in the household arrangements, I must appeal to her to -order it. Fortunately she always gives the order because she still -regards me as her 'precious chile,' for whom everything must be done, -and whose uttermost whim is to be gratified, regardless of the -convenience of other folk, high or low." - -"But she is a slave," answered Millicent, "and--" - -"In a way, I suppose she is," he interrupted, "but all the eloquence of -all the orators of Boston could not convince her that her condition in -life could be improved. She is absolute mistress of an establishment -and of the poor fellow who owns it. She has everything that her heart -desires, everything that her imagination can conjure up as a want. Her -present is provided for, and her old age is secure. I don't know any -device of freedom that can match that." - -"Neither do I," Millicent answered; "but I cannot approve slavery as an -institution. I am prejudiced, perhaps, but--" - -"I am not prejudiced," he answered, "but I thoroughly agree with your -dislike of slavery as an institution. All our great Virginians, Thomas -Jefferson, John Randolph, George Wythe, Henry Clay, and the rest, have -regarded the institution as an inherited evil to be got rid of in any -way that might be practicable, in any way that might give to the -negroes a chance to become self-supporting citizens. Thomas Jefferson -put the Virginian thought into an apt phrase when he said that in -freeing the negroes we must not 'arm them with freedom and a dagger.' -He might have added, as many Virginians have done in practice, that we -must arm them with a hoe and a plow." - -"I see," she said, "and history teaches us that Virginia has done more -for the restriction of slavery than any other State. It was in her -cession of the Northwest territory that a clause was written forever -excluding slavery from that region; and we cannot forget that in the -convention which framed the constitution, the Virginia delegates fought -vigorously for a provision to stop the African slave trade in the year -1800, and the New England delegates fought to continue it for eight -years longer. I think these things are not understood, and I think I -sympathize with your Virginian resentment of outside interference by -people who do not understand. At any rate I shall carry back to Boston -with me a very different impression of your attitude from that which I -had before. I shall be honored to have you for my escort, Mr. Towns, -and delighted to be coddled all the way home by your dear old Mammy." - -At that moment one of the young men who had secured a place on -Millicent's card came to claim his dance, and the conversation was at -an end. - -But Jack Towns had a problem to solve. He had promised to bring -Millicent and Westover together without seeming intention, and he did -not know how he was to do it. Suddenly a thought came to him, and, as -he had exhausted his claim upon Millicent's dancing card, he took -French leave, mounted his mare and set off for Chinquapin Knob, whither -Carley Farnsworth had preceded him many hours before. He arrived there -about breakfast time and entered at once into negotiations. - -Carley Farnsworth, as Jack Towns knew, was in close touch with Judy -Peters; for these two friends of Boyd Westover had many confidences -with respect to the campaign, of which Westover himself knew nothing, -and Towns had learned all about Judy's attitude and initiative in -Boyd's campaign. - -"Of course Boyd's election is secure," said Jack, as he buttered a -slice of the hot breakfast bread; "and now that Butler has withdrawn -and Colonel Conway has endorsed his candidacy, his support will include -a large majority of the vote down here." - -"Yes, and that is what Judy and I have been working for. Her influence -in the mountains, when she gets ready to give the word, will settle the -question of election. But Judy is practising psychological -therapeutics. She wouldn't recognize the words, but they represent the -facts. Her sole interest in this thing is to brace Boyd up by showing -him that his fellow men believe in him. To that end she has planned to -secure as heavy a vote for him as possible down here among the planter -people. To that end she has held back all intimations of her purpose in -the mountains. To that end she arranged with Butler to withdraw from -the senatorial contest and run for the lower house instead. Of course -you understand that she means to elect him to that." - -"No, does she?" asked Towns in astonishment. "I hadn't thought of that. -How astonishing!" - -"Well, it is only a conjecture of mine, but it is what is going to -happen. Judy always pays her debts to the last cent. In this case, by -his own withdrawal Butler throws every Democratic vote in the district -to Boyd, and you don't imagine, do you, that he did that without -prospect of a recompense? Of course Judy negotiated it, and it is my -conjecture that the price she is to pay is the mountain vote for -Butler's election to the House of Delegates, which, with the Democratic -vote down here, will elect him. Of course I know nothing about the -matter. It is only that I can see through a millstone if there is a -hole in it. And besides I know Judy's ways. She doesn't care a fig for -this election except to make it serve her purpose of setting Boyd up -again and making him feel that he is Westover of Wanalah." - -"I see," answered Jack; "and the old woman would do anything in reason, -I suppose, to aid in the accomplishment of that purpose?" - -"Anything in reason? Yes. And anything out of reason too. What is it -you have in mind?" - -"Well, I want Judy to give a frolic of some kind, and I'll take Miss -Danvers to it. Can you arrange that?" - -"Easily, if it is likely to benefit Boyd. But I don't see--" - -"Of course you don't. But I tell you it will do more for his -rejuvenation than would his unanimous election to the Senate. Of course -he must be there, and so must Miss Danvers. I will take care of the -rest." - -"What is it you're up to, Jack?" asked Farnsworth in not unnatural -curiosity. - -"I shall not tell you, except that I want Miss Danvers and Boyd -Westover to meet casually. Besides, Miss Danvers is an interested and -sympathetic student of Virginia life, and I want to show her the -mountain side of it before she goes back to Boston. How soon can you -arrange the thing, Carley?" - -"Well, let's see. Edgar Coffey, who is not supposed to know me by sight -or by name is to be here to-night. He will see Judy tomorrow, some -time, and deliver my messages about Butler's withdrawal and the rest of -it. Will next Saturday do for the party?" - -"Yes, if you can arrange it so soon." - -"Judy does things promptly, when she is minded to do them at all, and -in this case she is sure to be so minded. You may safely invite Miss -Danvers to be one of the guests at next Saturday's frolic. Now you must -go to bed. You had a hard day yesterday, and made a brilliant speech, -and of course you danced all night with Miss Danvers. Since then you -have ridden fifteen miles with a load on your mind. It is time for you -to take some rest. The front room in the west wing is prepared for you. -Go!" - - - - -XXXIV - -JUDY'S PLANS OF CAMPAIGN - - -The events at Fighting Creek threw Webb's political advisers into -something like panic. They realized that Butler's withdrawal and -Colonel Conway's support of Westover's candidacy would give Westover a -majority vote in the piedmont section of the district. If Webb was to -win at all, it must be by securing the mountain vote. To that end they -sent all their speakers into the mountains, arranging that Webb himself -should speak there twice or thrice a day. He was a plausible fellow, -persuasive in his oratory and capable of verbal acrobatics of a kind -likely to be attractive to simple minded audiences. But chiefly, Webb's -backers relied upon negotiations with Judy Peters, whose control over -the mountain vote of her own county was almost absolute, and whose -influence over the vote in other mountain parts of the district was apt -to be controlling if she saw fit to exercise it, as in many cases she -did not. - -In the present campaign Judy had given no sign. Apparently she was -altogether indifferent. If she should persist in that indifference, -then a vigorous speaking campaign might turn the battle; but if she -could be induced to take an active interest in Webb's election, the -result would be secure. - -So Webb and some of his most persuasive lieutenants were set to "arouse -Judy's interest." They visited her immediately after the Fighting Creek -disaster, and told her of the danger that impended. She entertained -them with glorified fried chicken, stewed shoat, salt pork with cream -gravy, apple butter, and limitless apple jack, but she declined to -commit herself. To all their solicitations she replied in carefully -equivocal phrases that left them pleased, encouraged, but by no means -satisfied. - -"The old gal's a-goin' back on us, it's my belief," said Foggy when -these results were reported to him. - -"You are certainly mistaken," Webb answered. "I had a long, -confidential talk with her and I came away from the conference with an -unshakable conviction that she means to throw her uttermost influence -in my favor." - -"Did she say so in plain words?" asked Foggy. - -"No, not precisely that, but she certainly intended to give me that -impression. You don't know Judy, or you would understand. She likes to -keep one hanging on, as it were. She never commits herself by definite -promises. Sometimes she doesn't let even her henchmen know how they are -going to vote until the night before election. We can safely trust -ourselves in Judy's hands." - -"Well, I hope you're right, but I'd feel a good deal better," responded -Foggy, "if we had a definite promise." - -No sooner was the visit of the Webb forces over than Judy turned to -Sapphira and said: - -"Go an' hang my red petticoat on the frontmost panel o' the fence, an' -leave it there." - -"Is Edgar Coffey a-comin' long by here this evenin'?" asked the girl -who had rendered this service on several former occasions. - -"Don't be too knowin', Sapphiry, an' don't git yourself into a -inquirin' frame o' mind. That there red petticoat's enough fer you to -think about jest now." - -About sunset Edgar Coffey came slouching up the road, apparently -intending to pass the place without stopping, but when he saw the red -petticoat hanging over the top rail of the fence he seemed suddenly to -remember that he wanted a drink of water from Judy's glacial spring, -with something to temper its coldness perhaps. So he leaped the fence, -and passing around the house, toward the spring, confronted Judy at her -back door. Quite casually she invited him in, and after her hospitable -habit she brought forth a decanter of apple jack for his entertainment. - -"Now drink sparin'-like, Edgar," she said, "'cause you's got business -to ten' to an' I don't want none o' that confusion o' tongues the Bible -tells about. But mend your drink an' git over your tired an' then I'll -give you your pinters." - -Edgar Coffey was habitually a sober man. That is to say he never drank -liquor that he must pay for; but when the tipple cost him nothing he -was apt to make up for lost time. Judy, whose habit it was to know all -about the men she dealt with, knew this, and upon occasion tempered her -alcoholic hospitality with prudent reserve. If she had had no mission -for Edgar Coffey to fulfil, he might have emptied the bottle without -interference on her part. As it was, she withdrew the supply as soon as -he had filled his little tumbler for the third time, and as soon as he -had emptied it again she addressed herself to the business in hand. - -"That there William Wilberforce Webb has been here with his gang, to -'lectioneer me," she said. She would have used some opprobrious epithet -with Webb's name if she could have thought of one that seemed to her -more scornful than the man's own cumbersome name did. - -"Yes, I knowed they was a-comin'," answered Edgar. - -"Never mind what you knowed. Listen to me. You is to go an' git Morris -Bryant an' Lem Fulcher, an' Wyatt Fletcher an' two or three others, an' -'tend his speakin' meetin's, specially' them as don't lay close to -here--them as is held in the furder parts o' the mountings where may be -a word from me don't count for as much as it does round here." - -"Is we to raise a racket an' break up the meetin's?" - -"No. Yous is to be as meek as Moses, an' ax questions, jest as ef you -was doubtful like an' a seekin' information. But you ain't to ax -William Wilberforce Webb none o' the questions, 'cause he mout answer -'em an' spile the game. 'Tain't answers we want, but effec's. You is to -ax everybody you see, what that feller's wagon-load o' name means. An' -you's to wonder, jest curious like whar he got it to tote round. An' -then you can sort o' explain your curiosity by sayin' you's heard -somewhere's as how William Wilberforce is one o' the biggest -abolitionists, an' wonder whether Webb is his nephew or his son, an' if -Webb ain't maybe a abolitionist in disguise, a tryin' to git into the -Legislatur. Ef anybody answers your questions an' tries to explain, you -can jest say, 'Well, I dunno nothin' 'bout it, only it looks sort o' -'spicious like,' an' go away an' hunt up another crowd. You know how to -do a sneakin' thing like that, Edgar, better'n anybody I ever seen, an' -the men I's named fer your feller sinners ain't no slouches at that -sort o' thing nuther. You's got no call to argify or say anything as -anybody can pick up. You-all's business is jest to ax questions, raise -suspicions an' make impressions." - -She chuckled as Edgar winked at her in token of complete comprehension, -and as she did so she muttered: - -"That feller's name'll be the death of him yit." - -Then she added: - -"Now you can have another pull at the apple jack, Edgar, an' then you -must be off, fer they's a big Webb gatherin' 'pinted fer to-morrer over -at Olivet church, an' I want all you fellers to be thar." - -"Wait a minute, Judy," said the hulking mountaineer as he unlimbered -his legs and sat upright in his chair. "I's got a message fer you from -Dr. Carley Farnsworth." - -"Why didn't you tell me that fust off?" asked Judy almost angrily. - -"'Cause 'twouldn't 'a' been polite, like, tell you was done speakin'. -'Ladies fust' is my motto." - -"All right. Limber up your tongue an' tell me what 'tis." - -"Well, he says he'll cover all expenses, but you is to give a very -select--them was his words--a _very select_ Brunswick Stew here next -Saturday an' let him bring up a wagon-load o' folks from down below. He -says it'll do more'n the 'lection itself for Westover in the way you -an' him is a-thinkin' of. I didn't ax him what he meant by that, 'cause -he seemed to think you'd know all about it. Oh, he said you must be -sure to send a partic'lar invite to Westover. He's to speak over at Cob -Station Friday." - -Judy received the message placidly, and, without comment upon it, -hurried Edgar Coffey away on his mission. - -"Well," she said to herself presently, "Carley Farnsworth ain't no -fool; but I'd give somethin' purty to know how he expects me to make a -Brunswick Stew this late in the fall when they ain't a tomato or a ear -o' green corn left alive in all the land." - -Then suddenly she called for her three sons, Daniel Webster, Henry -Clay, and Theonidas, who happened to be at home at the time. - -"We's a goin' to give a barbecue nex' Saturday, right out in the patch -o' red oak an' black gum woods. So you's got to git to work. Kill an' -dress a shoat an' two lambs an' 'bout a dozen chickens, an' hang 'em in -the spring house to cool. Then you three haul out the lumber from the -corn crib an' knock up a lot o' tables. No, Daniel Webster an' Henry -Clay can ten' to that, while Theonidas digs the roastin' pits an' chops -some oak an' hickory wood to roast with. Chop it short, Theonidas, an' -split it fine, so's it'll go to coals quick." - -After she had given these orders and instructed Sapphira as to duties -that must devolve on her, she busied her mind with other things -relating to the affair. First of all she filled and lighted her pipe -and sat down in a big rocking chair to "do a little studyin'." - -"Very select," she mused. "That means I mustn't let the fellers drink -too much. I can ten' to that, so they ain't no bother. He's a goin' to -bring a lot o' stuck-ups with him. That's all right, an' I'll make 'em -think we's purty nigh on to bein' sort o' civilized ourselves. Le's -see; Burch Wrigley an' Lewis Vance an' Jim Woodson won't do. They'd go -round chawin' meat an' a holdin' it in their han's what hain't been -washed sence Noah's flood cleaned things up, like. Them fellers ain't -to have no invites. I'll send 'em a feed in a bucket instid. - -"Le' me see! Jim Wood's a-goin' down to the speakin' at Cob Station, -Friday. I'll tell him to tell Boyd to come up here Friday night. Then -I'll have him on the ground fer Saturday. Oh say, Judy, I'll send a -invite to William Wilberforce Webb! It'll be good fun to see him when -he fin's out what sort o' party I's got, an' oh Jemimy! When he fin's -Boyd here! An' jes' ten days 'fore the 'lection too! It'll be fun all -over the woods!" - -And Judy was so pleased with her little device for amusement that she -chuckled over it for full ten minutes afterward. She wound up her -chuckling with the exclamation: - -"William Wilberforce Webb! Blue lightning what a name! By the time -Edgar Coffey an' them fellers is through with him he'll wish he'd boxed -up that name an' put it in his cellar 'fore ever he come up into the -mountings. An' I'll string out the whole o' that name every time I -speak to him on Saturday." - -Having thus settled upon her arrangements and set them going, Judy -turned her meditations into another channel. - -"Of course Carley Farnsworth knows what he's about, but I don't. May be -I can figger it out, though. He sent word as how this thing would do -more good to Boyd than the 'lection itself. I reckon it somehow tetches -on his trouble with that gal what's been a preyin' on his mind. I -reckon that's it, an' Carley sees how to make it patch things up like. -Course that's it. They wouldn't be no sense in it ef that wasn't the -meanin'. All right. Ef we can straighten things out, twix' Boyd an' the -gal, they won't be no more trouble o' no sort 'bout him. They ain't -never no cause to worry 'bout a feller that's got a big office an' a -little gal all to wunst, I reckon." - - - - -XXXV - -A MOUNTAIN TOP REVELATION - - -The barbecue at Judy's was successful in every way. Jack Towns and -Carley Farnsworth took two crowded wagon-loads of young women up the -mountain, starting early in the morning, and there were a dozen or -twenty young men on horseback to complete the piedmont contingent. Boyd -Westover was already at Judy's, and the Queen had summoned all the -presentable mountain folk, male and female, to the feast and frolic. - -Millicent had begged Margaret to go, but there were conclusive reasons -why she should not, some of which she mentioned in excuse and some of -which she forbore to mention. Her aunt was really ill, as a result of -shock. Her father was by no means well. She herself was in distress, -and above and beyond all, she did not wish to meet Boyd Westover. She -could conceive of nothing more embarrassing than a meeting with him -under the circumstances. She did not say so to Millicent, but Millicent -understood, and Millicent had plans of her own, in aid of which, as -Jack Towns had clearly set forth, to her, this expedition had been -organized. - -Another absentee, whose absence Judy resented rather angrily and -vituperatively, because his absence robbed her of anticipated fun, was -William Wilberforce Webb. He was on his way to Judy's when he learned -that Boyd Westover was there. Then suddenly he remembered some -engagement that took him in a different direction and far away from the -festivity. He sent an elaborately apologetic and rhetorically -grandiloquent letter of apology, which Judy did not read further than -the opening sentences that announced his inability to be present. - -Having dug so much of meaning out of the rubbish of words in which it -was hidden, she muttered: - -"The durned coward!" and cast the letter into the fire. - -But there was fun enough and to spare. The mountaineers understood that -this was a show, that they were the performers and that the guests from -the piedmont region were the audience. They put forth their utmost -endeavors to entertain, and they were abundantly successful. Their -contests of strength and agility, their exhibitions of skill with the -rifle, in throwing "rocks" at a minute mark, and in other ways, won a -degree of applause that might have satisfied even the morbid desires of -an opera company. - -Millicent was standing by Westover's side, talking of indifferent -things, when some change of program in the athletics created an -unannounced intermission. She seized upon the occasion for the -accomplishment of the purpose that had brought her thither. - -"There must be a grand view," she suggested, "from the top of that rock -up there." - -"There is," he answered, "and I'd like you to enjoy it. Will you mind -walking--or perhaps I should say climbing--up there?" - -She responded gladly and the two set off. The climb was not an easy -one, and it was quite half an hour before they reached the summit. When -they arrived there Westover led his companion to the best points of -observation, but he was disappointed to find that her enthusiasm was -less than he had hoped. - -"You don't care much for the views after all," he ventured to say, half -reproachfully. - -"Yes, I do. Or rather, I should enjoy them intensely, if it were not -that I have something on my mind, something that it is my duty to do -and that I fear I shall go wrong in doing. It was for that that I came -up here with you, Mr. Westover, in order that I might talk with you -apart from the crowd down there." - -She paused timorously, and nervously stripped the glove she had -unconsciously removed from her hand. By way of encouragement, Boyd -Westover said: - -"Go on. I shall be glad to hear anything you have to tell me." - -She remained meditatively silent for half a minute more. Then she -asked, with great, open, honest eyes looking into his: - -"Mr. Westover, can you, do you believe a woman--in the same way that -you take a man's word, I mean? If Mr. Towns, or Dr. Farnsworth, should -solemnly assure you of the perfect truth of anything they might have to -say to you, you would believe him as implicitly as if his statement -were a fact within your personal knowledge. Can you believe a woman's -solemn assurance in the same way and to the same extent?" - -"When you are the woman making the statement, yes!" he answered -gallantly, but with an assurance of sincerity in his voice, and with a -still more emphatic assurance of sincerity in the eyes that looked -straight into hers. "I shall believe anything you tell me as firmly as -I believe in my own existence, or in the stability of the rocks under -our feet." - -"I thank you sincerely," she said, with that Bostonian fulness of -expression that had peculiarly charmed all the Virginians who had -enjoyed a meeting with her. "Now I'll make the statement that you are -to believe as absolutely true." - -She paused, as if framing her utterance carefully. After a moment she -said: - -"In what I am going to say to you, and in seeking this opportunity to -say it, I do not represent anybody but myself. Especially I do not -represent Margaret Conway." - -He started a little at the name, and she observed the fact, but she -went on, not heeding it. - -"Indeed in telling you what I am going to tell you, I am violating -Margaret's earnest and express commands. Perhaps I am even violating a -confidence of friendship. I don't know, and it makes no difference. It -is my duty to tell you, and I'll do that duty at all hazards. It -involves the life-long happiness or unhappiness of two persons whom I -hold in affectionate regard." - -By this time Westover, nervous, restless, troubled and enthusiastic as -he was, was wrought up to the verge of delirium. - -"Tell me!" he cried earnestly. "Tell me quickly! I can endure the -suspense no longer." - -In reply the girl, who had completely recovered her self-control, said -very deliberately: - -"What I have to tell you may perhaps explain many things that you have -not hitherto understood. It is this: the letters you wrote to Margaret -Conway at the time of your trouble were never delivered to her; the -letters she wrote to you at that time were never posted. That is all." - -"How do you know this?" he asked, seizing her by the shoulders as if -intent upon shaking the answer out of her. "Do you _know_ it or is it -only conjecture? Tell me, quick, how do you know it?" - -"I have seen the letters," she answered, calmly enjoying his half-mad -excitement. - -"But how do you know mine were not received and hers not mailed?" - -"I have seen them," she answered. "Yours were not opened and Margaret -had never seen them. Hers were addressed and stamped, but bore no -postmarks. Be perfectly sure, Mr. Westover, that I know all I say." - -"But who interfered? Why were the letters stopped in transit?" he asked -almost angrily. - -"That I am not free to tell you. I am concerned only for you and -Margaret. The rest concerns another person, and I have no right--" - -"Was it Colonel Conway? Did he--" - -"Mr. Westover, you know Colonel Conway. Therefore you know it was not -he, just as you know that he isn't a coward or anything else -dishonorable. Now please don't ask me any further questions. I have -already violated obligations, I suppose. At any rate I have put you in -possession of the essential facts. The rest lies with you. We must go -down the hill now." - -The two started off together, but before they had journeyed far, -Westover stopped suddenly and, taking both the girl's hands in his, -said fervently: - -"I thank God, and I thank you, Millicent Danvers. To the end of my life -I shall thank you. Now let us be off, for I must get away from here." - -She did not ask him why, but she understood and approved. - - - - -XXXVI - -THE MEETING AT THE OAKS - - -As the two neared the scene of Judy's festivities, Millicent suddenly -stopped and, looking straight into Westover's eyes, asked: - -"You are very sure you believe me, and that I have acted upon the -prompting of conscience alone?" - -"Millicent Danvers, I never believed anything in my life more -confidently than I do that." - -"And do you think I have done right?" - -"Right? Yes. You have saved two lives from wreck and wretchedness. -Could anything be righter than that? You have a sensitive conscience; -bid it rest easy in the consciousness of a brave deed well done. -Charles Kingsley says: 'God gives it to few men to carry a line to a -stranded ship.' That is what God has given it to you to do. Be sure I -shall not compromise you in any way, and may God always bless you!" - -Both were too much overwrought to indulge in further speech. They -hurried on to the house, and Boyd went instantly to Judy, saying: - -"I'm sorry to miss the rest of the frolic and especially the evening -dance; but I find I must leave immediately." - -"That's all right, Boyd, ef it's becase o' the gal," answered Judy with -womanly sympathy. "Jest set still here fer five minutes an' I'll have -Theonidas bring your horse round to the road back o' the house, so's -nobody'll see you a settin' off. Say, Boyd, that Boston gal's awful -nice. I wish 'twas her." - -"Let Jack Towns dance with her to-night, Judy, and you'll be satisfied." - -Five minutes later Westover was in the saddle and hurrying down the -mountain as rapidly as his concern for the welfare and the bones of Rob -Roy would permit. That enthusiastic quadruped had an unconquerable -preference for the faster gaits familiar to horse flesh, and, if left -to himself, he would have gone at a gallop all the way down the -mountain. But his master, with a discretion superior to his, restrained -him, permitting only a trot on the levels and compelling what the horse -evidently regarded as an absurd walk down the steeper inclines. - -In spite of all restraints the good horse carried him over the -twenty-mile distance in little more than two hours' time, and it was at -the gloaming time that he approached The Oaks. - -He had formed no plans when he rode away from Judy Peters's place. His -first thought as he went down the mountain was that he would go to -Wanalah, write a letter to Margaret, enclose it in a note to Colonel -Conway and send it by a special messenger. He abandoned that program -promptly, and after framing and rejecting several others of less -elaborate formality, he resolved to go straight to Margaret. - -"I have a right to do that," he said to himself. "Now that I know what -her attitude has been it is not only my privilege but my duty to deal -directly with her, to tell her what I have learned, to tell her of the -misapprehension I have labored under, to renew my suit and to learn -from her lips what her present feeling is. I know that, already, but it -will be reassuring to have her tell me of it. God bless that Boston -girl and her New England conscience and her courage! For it required -courage of a high order to do what she did. Not many people would have -dared do it." - -So thinking he rode into the house grounds at The Oaks while the last -glow of daylight was fading out of the sunset side of the sky. - -Seeing a young negro, he dismounted and tossed the rein to the boy, -saying: - -"Don't stable him; just walk him back and forth till he cools down and -then hitch him somewhere handy; I shall ride again presently." - -Walking rapidly up the path he stepped upon the porch, and there met -Margaret face to face for the first time since he had gaily bidden her -adieu at midsummer. - -"Margaret!" he exclaimed. - -"Boyd!" she answered, and a moment later he had taken her in his arms -and caressed her fervently. - -[Illustration: "Margaret!" . . . "Boyd!"--_Page 436._] - -"You have come at last!" she said as she withdrew herself from his -embrace. - -"At last?" he asked in answer. "It was only two hours ago that I -learned that I might come at all. I was twenty miles away then, and I -am here now, here to claim fulfilment of the most glorious promise a -woman ever made to a man--here to claim you, Margaret." - -"I know," she answered, as they sank into porch chairs. "Don't let us -waste time in explanations, now that they are so utterly unnecessary. -Just let us be happy." - -The conversation thus begun lasted until near supper time. It is not -necessary to report it for the information of any who have been lovers, -and as for the rest, they would never understand. - -Just before the late supper time Westover suddenly awakened to his duty. - -"I must see your father," he said. "Without his permission I have no -right to consider myself a guest in his house." - -Margaret, knowing her father's perplexed eagerness to see Westover and -be reconciled with him, smiled as she answered: - -"I'll send for Father." - -She did so, and presently the old Colonel came limping into the porch. -As he approached, Margaret slipped into the house, leaving the two men -alone. - -They greeted each other with a cordiality that rendered all -explanations and apologies needless, but Colonel Conway insisted upon -explaining and apologizing. - -"I've been a coward, Boyd! I've been an abject coward." - -"I don't know any other man living who would dare say that, Colonel." - -"Perhaps not. No, I suppose not. Still it is true, and I'm profoundly -ashamed of it." - -"Now my dear Colonel Conway," interjected Westover, "let us not talk of -that. This is the happiest hour of my life and, I hope, of Margaret's. -Let us not spoil it by discussing disagreeable things which are -completely past and gone." - -"But there are some things that I must explain, Boyd, and you must -listen to me. I ought to have gone to you in Richmond at the time of -your trouble. I didn't, because I was forbidden to do so by an -authority which I was cowardly enough to yield to. Margaret--great -woman that she is--told me then I was a coward, and she was right. When -you came back to Wanalah my purpose was to go to you at once, but the -same authority forbade, giving me a sufficient reason in the fact that -you had written no line to Margaret. I know better now, but only within -the past few days. Under that mistaken belief I refused to join in your -nomination. A few days ago a catastrophe here revealed the truth to -both Margaret and me. She appealed to me to do what my sense of honor -might suggest. That meant that I should go to you at once, grasp your -hand, tell you of the misapprehension and of the facts that removed it, -and ask your pardon. No, don't interrupt. You are generously disposed -to spare me, but I shall not consent to be spared. My first impulse was -to do what Margaret expected of me. But an appeal was made to me to -spare another--the culprit in the case--and I weakly yielded to it. I -compromised with my conscience and my honor. I wrote to Dr. Farnsworth -the letter you have doubtless seen, and I did no more. It was all -cowardice, and I am heartily ashamed of it. Will you forgive me, Boyd?" - -"Colonel Conway," answered Boyd with intense earnestness, "no man with -a cowardly nerve in his body could ever have made the manly -self-accusing apology you have offered to me. You grievously wrong -yourself. It was not cowardice that restrained you, but a tender and -generous consideration for a helpless person who was entitled to every -protection you could give her. Now let us talk no more of this! Let us -never refer to it! Let it be a dead thing of a dead past--a thing done -with, forgotten, banished forever from our minds!" - -"You are very generous," answered the now feeble old man. "But that is -not a thing to be wondered at. You are Westover of Wanalah, and for -nearly two hundred years that name has stood for all there is of -gentle, generous and courageous manhood. You'll stay to supper of -course?" - -"No, Colonel. I have much to do to-night. I must ride at once--as soon -as I shall have said 'good night' to Margaret." - -It took a considerable time for the saying of that good night. - -"I'll be over here at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, Margaret," he -said, "and we'll go for a ride. I'll have a servant bring over a young -filly I have in my stables, that you'll be delighted to ride. She's -spirited, but as gentle as a zephyr--that's what I've named -her--'Zephyr'--and her paces are perfect. She's to be yours from this -time forth. I personally educated her for you last summer, -before--before the trouble came." - -"But to-morrow is Sunday; aren't we to go to church?" - -"No. We are going to Wanalah, so that you may look over the place and -see what alterations are needed. I must tell you, Margaret, that an -investment,--very wise or very lucky, I don't know which,--made by my -father in my name, has suddenly borne fruit, making me, Jack Towns -says--and he has charge of the business--three times over the richest -man in Virginia. The wealth is of no consequence in itself, but I -mention it so that in deciding what shall be done at Wanalah you need -have no fear of expense before your eyes." - -"But church is at Round Hill, to-morrow, almost under our noses. If we -don't attend, what will people say?" - -"Hang 'people.' We are 'people' now. We're happy and we're going to -stay happy. And after all what can they say? They'll say that Boyd -Westover and Margaret Conway are very much in love with each other, and -we don't care to contradict that, do we?" - -"I do not," she answered. - -"Neither do I. So let them say on. They'll wonder when it is to be, and -I'm wondering about that myself now. When is it to be, Margaret?" - -"I don't know. Of course I must have time to make a trousseau." - -"What for?" he asked. "Hang the trousseau, or make it after we're -married. What's the difference? You've plenty of clothes, and you're -charming in any of them." - -"But Boyd, dear,--" - -"But Margaret dear," he interrupted, "you see our marriage was to have -occurred in the late summer or early fall. It has already been -unreasonably delayed. It is nonsense to delay it further. Think a -little, and think quick, and name a day." - -"If you must have it so, I suppose it must be so. You are the Master -now. And besides--" - -She did not finish her sentence till he challenged it, saying: - -"Besides what, Margaret?" - -"I was only thinking," she answered, "that I can't persuade Millicent -to stay much longer, and I do want her to be my first bridesmaid. You -see, Boyd, it isn't only that I'm very fond of her--I am _very grateful -to her_." - -"So am I," he answered with emphasis, but neither the one nor the other -said aught of the occasion for gratitude. They both understood. But he -eagerly grasped at the helping hand: - -"Then you _must_ name a very early day, or she will have flitted." - -"Let me see," she said; "the election will occur one week from next -Tuesday; that is ten days hence. Our wedding shall occur on the day -after you are elected Senator." - -"But suppose I should not be elected?" - -"In that case the day will come round just the same," she said; "but -you will be elected. I have Dr. Farnsworth's positive assurance that -you will be elected by the largest majority any candidate ever received -in this district, and Dr. Farnsworth is a man who deals exclusively in -facts, never in conjectures." - -"Then you have concerned yourself about my election?" - -"How could it be otherwise? As I told you in the long ago, Boyd, I am -not a woman who loves lightly or lightly forgets." - -"I know," he answered. "Your father is taking his supper alone. Go to -him at once. I'll mount and away." - - - - -XXXVII - -THE OLD CLOCK TICKS AGAIN - - -"It's a rambling old place," Westover said, as he and Margaret strolled -through the vast spaces of the Wanalah rooms with their highly polished -white ash floors, their wealth of stoutly built, time darkened -furniture, their ancient, oaken wainscots and their hospitably spacious -fireplaces. "I suppose a modern judgment would say tear it down and -build anew--" - -"Then the modern judgment shall have no welcome when I am mistress -here. Tear down Wanalah, with its walls of thick masonry, its -generously large rooms, and its memories? Only a vandal would do that. -I'll tell you, Boyd, there is only one change I'd like you to make -here." - -"I'll make it. What is it?" - -"There's a beautiful old standing clock in the dining room that has -never ticked since I have known Wanalah. Won't you have somebody put -new works into it and set it going again?" - -"Yes," he answered, "but it shall not run until you and I return from -our wedding trip and you enter the house as its mistress. We'll go to -it together then and set it going, to mark time in a new era at -Wanalah." - -"You are very good and thoughtful and tender, Boyd. I suppose you are a -trifle romantic also, but I shall certainly not quarrel with that, now -or ever." - -"Speaking of our wedding trip, Margaret," he said eagerly, "what is it -to be? We can go anywhere you like and everywhere you like and for as -long as you like." - -"Am I really free to choose?" she asked, looking into his eyes. - -"Yes, really and absolutely." - -"What I would like best, then, would be to go up to that place of yours -in the high mountains. It was there that you suffered most on my -account; I want you to rejoice and be happy there, Boyd, by way of -recompense." - -"But it's rough living up there, Margaret; perhaps you'd find it----" - -"I'd find it delightful. How could it be otherwise, with just you and -me there?" - -"It shall be so then. Nothing could delight me more. I'll get Theonidas -to carry my things back up there at once. They are still at Judy's. And -we'll take along with us whatever baggage you want." - -"That will be very little. It is the air, the sunshine, the rain, the -freedom and _you_, Boyd, that I want. And besides, you know you have -forbidden me to have a trousseau. I'll be a wood nymph or a water witch -or something of that sort, and such beings do not bother with baggage, -I suppose." - - -During the next week, Westover was speaking day and night, all over the -district. He really cared nothing for the office he was running for, -but it was his temperament to do his mightiest to win in any contest in -which he had a part, and in this case he had the additional impulse to -gratify Margaret by securing the biggest majority possible for his -election. - -Meanwhile, in his enthusiasm, Colonel Conway forgot all about his gout, -and busied himself in the fulfilment of the promise he had long ago -given, to fill The Oaks at the wedding time with the most brilliant -company the country could furnish, and to have feasting there of a kind -that might make the occasion memorable. He even made a journey to -Washington and fairly forced his old commander in the Mexican War, -General Scott, to be a guest, honored and honoring the occasion. - -Judy Peters was also an honored guest. When Westover learned at last -what part she had borne in his nomination and in his campaign, he rode -all the way up to her place to persuade her to come. And when the time -arrived, he sent the Wanalah carriage to fetch her. She appeared at the -ceremony, in a gown more gaudily gorgeous than any that had been seen -in that region since "the time whereof the memory of man runneth not to -the contrary." - -Colonel Conway devoted his particular attention to her. Among other -special courtesies he shared with her a bottle of precious old -Madeira--too precious, as he told her, to be "wasted on a lot of young -fellows whose palates are not educated up to it." - -She drank the wine with relish, and after the third thimbleful glass -she gave judgment. - -"It's better 'n apple jack, but in the matter o' taste, 'tain't quite -up to peach an' honey, is it now, Bob?" - -Since his boyhood nobody had ever ventured to address Colonel Conway as -"Bob," but as it came from Judy's barbaric and privileged lips, he -rather liked it. - -The wedding was held in the early morning because Boyd Westover had -explained, without a hint of whither they were bound, that he and -Margaret had a long journey to make before nightfall. - -The wedding morn was on the day following the election, and the returns -were all in. Carley Farnsworth summarized them to the company by -announcing that Westover was elected by the vote of more than -three-fourths and nearly four-fifths of the citizens of the district. - -Then he added: - -"And Sam Butler, Democrat, is elected to the House of Delegates, -chiefly by the mountain vote, which seems to have been pretty nearly -solid for him." - -Judy Peters beamed upon Colonel Conway, and ventured the remark: - -"'Tain't no use a-votin', Colonel, ef you don't stick together an' vote -to 'lect. That's our way up in the mountings." - -"Ah, Judy," the Colonel replied, "I'm afraid you're a sad sinner. I'm -afraid you manipulated that vote." - -"I ain't close acquainted with that big word o' your'n, Bob, but I was -purty nigh right in my jedgment as to how this here 'lection was a -goin' to come out. Say, Bob, what d'you think that there comb-cut -rooster William Wilberforce Webb thinks of hisself by now? I wonder ef -he'll unload some o' that name?" - - -Westover and his bride left as soon as the ceremony was over, but -Colonel Conway kept the festivities going all day, and there was a -dance at night. - -The occasion was rich in opportunities for Jack Towns, and, with the -alert energy which was characteristic of him, he made the most of them. -When, two days later, he left for Boston as Millicent's escort, there -was no room for doubt in anybody's mind as to the outcome of his visit -to the blue hills of Milton. - - -It was a month later, and winter had begun, when Westover and -Margaret--just entering the house--went to the clock and set it going. -She said something--no matter what. He said nothing, but gathering her -head to his breast, he caressed her. Words seemed superfluous. - - -THE END. - - - - -The Potter and the Clay - -A Romance of To-day - -By MAUD HOWARD PETERSON. Illustrated by Charlotte Harding. l2mo, -decorated cloth, $1.50 - - -A strong and impressive story--one of the most forceful of recent -novels by a new author of promise and ability. The motive is love -versus loyalty; the characters are alive and human; the plot is -puzzling, and the action is remarkably vivid. - - - - -A Carolina Cavalier - -A Romance of the Revolution - - -By GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON. Illustrated by C. D. Williams. 12mo, cloth, -rough edges, gilt top, $1.50 - - -This is a historical romance of love, loyalty, and fighting. The action -passes in South Carolina during the stormy days of British invasion, in -the region once made famous by Simms and not touched since his day. It -is full of vigor, plot, and action. Tories and patriots, war and -adventure, love and valor crowd its pages and hold the reader's -attention from first to last. - - - - -The Little Green Door - -_By MARY E. STONE BASSETT_ - -Eight illustrations by _Louise Clarke_ and twenty-five decorative -half-title pages by _Ethel Pearce Clements_ - -12mo Cloth $1.50 - - - - -A charming romance of the time of Louis XIII. The door which gives the -title to the book leads to a beautiful retired garden belonging to the -King. In this garden is developed one of the sweetest and tenderest -romances ever told. The tone of the book is singularly pure and -elevated, although its power is intense. - - -"This is a tale of limpid purity and sweetness, which, although its -action is developed amid the intrigues and deceptions of a corrupt -French court, remains fine and delicate to the end. There is power as -well as poetry in the little romance, so delicate in -conception."--_Chicago Daily News_. - -"Tender, sweet, passionate, pure; a lily from the garden of -loves."--_Baltimore Herald_. - -"The story is exquisitely pure and tender, possessing a finished -daintiness that will charm all clean-minded persons."--_Louisville -Courier-Journal_. - -"This book carries with it all the exhilaration of a beautiful nature, -of flowers, birds, and living things, and the beauty of a winsome -personality of a pure, beautiful girl. It is a romance entirely of the -fancy, but a refreshing one."--_Chicago Tribune_. - -"The little romance is charmingly wrought, and will be sure to find its -way to the heart of the reader."--_Boston Transcript_. - - - - Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. - BOSTON - - - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Westover of Wanalah, by George Cary Eggleston - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WESTOVER OF WANALAH *** - -***** This file should be named 60398-0.txt or 60398-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/3/9/60398/ - -Produced by Al Haines & the online Distributed Proofreaders -Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Westover of Wanalah - A story of love and life in Old Virginia - -Author: George Cary Eggleston - -Illustrator: Emil Pollak Ottendorff - -Release Date: September 30, 2019 [EBook #60398] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WESTOVER OF WANALAH *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines & the online Distributed Proofreaders -Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="illustration"> -<a id="img-front"></a> -<img src="images/img-front.jpg" alt="Her rescuer knew not whether she lived." /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Her rescuer knew not whether she lived.</span>—<i><a href="#p8">Page 8</a>.</i> -</p> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - WESTOVER OF<br /> - WANALAH<br /> -</h1> - -<p class="t3b"> - A STORY OF LOVE AND LIFE IN<br /> - OLD VIRGINIA<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t4"> - <i>ILLUSTRATED BY EMIL POLLAK OTTENDORFF</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - BOSTON<br /> - LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - Published, August, 1910<br /> -<br /> - <span class="smcap">Copyright, 1910</span>,<br /> - <span class="smcap">By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.</span><br /> -<br /> - <i>All rights reserved</i><br /> -<br /> - WESTOVER OF WANALAH<br /> -<br /> - Norwood Press<br /> - <span class="smcap">Berwick & Smith Co.</span><br /> - Norwood, Mass., U. S. A.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b" style="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 30%"> -CONTENTS -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="content1">CHAPTER </span> <span class="content2">PAGE</span> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="content1">I. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap01">Peril and Passion</a></span></span> <span class="content2"> 1</span><br /> -<span class="content1">II. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap02">A Song without Words</a></span></span> <span class="content2">14</span><br /> -<span class="content1">III. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap03">The Best Laid Plans</a></span></span> <span class="content2">31</span><br /> -<span class="content1">IV. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap04">A Woman's Word</a></span></span> <span class="content2"> 27</span><br /> -<span class="content1">V. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap05">Pleasant Dreams and an Ugly Awakening</a></span></span> <span class="content2">40</span><br /> -<span class="content1">VI. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap06">Out of a Clear Sky</a></span></span> <span class="content2">50</span><br /> -<span class="content1">VII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap07">In the Valley of the Shadow</a></span></span> <span class="content2">63</span><br /> -<span class="content1">VIII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap08">The Shadows Fall</a></span></span> <span class="content2">72</span><br /> -<span class="content1">IX. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap09">The Courage of Womanhood</a></span></span> <span class="content2">83</span><br /> -<span class="content1">X. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap10">The Packet of Papers</a></span></span> <span class="content2">88</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XI. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap11">The Events of a Morning</a></span></span> <span class="content2">99</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap12">After the Storm</a></span></span> <span class="content2">117</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XIII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap13">"Aunt Betsy" Takes the Helm</a></span></span> <span class="content2">130</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XIV. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap14">Westover at Wanalah</a></span></span> <span class="content2">138</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XV. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap15">Up at Judy's</a></span></span> <span class="content2">152</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XVI. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap16">Judy Peters's Diagnosis</a></span></span> <span class="content2">161</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XVII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap17">Judy Informs Herself and Makes Plans</a></span></span> <span class="content2">171</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XVIII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap18">Judy Plans a Campaign</a></span></span> <span class="content2">184</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XIX. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap19">The Beginning of a Campaign</a></span></span> <span class="content2">199</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XX. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap20">The Satisfaction of W. W. Webb</a></span></span> <span class="content2">212</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXI. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap21">Flags Flying</a></span></span> <span class="content2">227</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap22">An Unmistakable Cure</a></span></span> <span class="content2">239</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXIII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap23">Court Day</a></span></span> <span class="content2">254</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXIV. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap24">A Perfect Woman—and a Man</a></span></span> <span class="content2">266</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXV. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap25">The Great Renunciation</a></span></span> <span class="content2">279</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXVI. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap26">Moonlight Resolutions</a></span></span> <span class="content2">308</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXVII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap27">The Philosophy of Jack Towns</a></span></span> <span class="content2">316</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXVIII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap28">The Events of a Day</a></span></span> <span class="content2">330</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXIX. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap29">The Work of a Wild Wind</a></span></span> <span class="content2">341</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXX. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap30">What Had Happened at The Oaks</a></span></span> <span class="content2">359</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXXI. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap31">A Sunset Interview</a></span></span> <span class="content2">372</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXXII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap32">What Happened at Fighting Creek</a></span></span> <span class="content2">388</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXXIII. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap33">Conspiracies</a></span></span> <span class="content2">396</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXXIV. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap34">Judy's Plans of Campaign</a></span></span> <span class="content2">413</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXXV. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap35">A Mountain Top Revelation</a></span></span> <span class="content2">425</span><br /> -<span class="content1">XXXVI. <span class="smcap"><a href="#chap36">The Meeting at The Oaks</a></span></span> <span class="content2">433</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> -ILLUSTRATIONS -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="content1"><span class="smcap"><a href="#img-front">Her rescuer knew not whether she lived</a></span></span> -<span class="content3">(Page 8) <i>Frontispiece</i></span> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="content1"><span class="smcap"><a href="#img-162">"Now come out here, Boyd"</a></span></span> <span class="content3">162</span> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="content1"><span class="smcap"><a href="#img-342">With the first onset of the wind</a></span></span> <span class="content3">342</span> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="content1"><span class="smcap"><a href="#img-366">"It will be better, I think, to accept my decision as final"</a></span></span> <span class="content3">366</span> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="content1"><span class="smcap"><a href="#img-374">He dismounted, and, with his bridle rein over his arm, joined her</a></span></span> <span class="content3">374</span> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="content1"><a href="#img-436"><span class="smcap">"Margaret</span>!" . . . "<span class="smcap">Boyd!"</span></a></span> <span class="content3">436</span> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t2"> -Westover of Wanalah -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap01"></a> -I -<br /> -PERIL AND PASSION -</h3> - -<p> -One midsummer morning in the late -eighteen-fifties, Boyd Westover of -Wanalah was riding along a Virginia -plantation road, accompanied by half a dozen -hounds, for whose discipline and restraint he -carried a long, flexible black-snake whip. The -weapon played the part of sceptre rather than -that of sword. The young man had no intention -of striking the dogs with it, but whenever -their exuberance broke bounds he cracked the -lash in air, making a report like that of a pistol -shot, and the reminder of his authority was -quite sufficient for purposes of canine discipline. -</p> - -<p> -He was not hunting. He was merely riding -to a distant part of the plantation he controlled, -to inspect the work of the negroes there and -to give directions for its proper doing. But he -liked the company of his dogs and enjoyed -their mad relish of the morning. -</p> - -<p> -The glory of it gladdened his own spirit in -spite of the vexing problems that were never -quite absent from his mind. -</p> - -<p> -Boyd Westover, a young man of not more -than twenty-three or twenty-four years, had -never known a serious care until the spring of -that year. Then a burden of responsibility had -fallen upon him that threatened to bend even -his broad shoulders beneath its weight. -</p> - -<p> -His father had died suddenly in the early -spring, leaving a widow and this one son who -in the ordinary course of affairs became administrator -of the estate and master of the -plantation. -</p> - -<p> -Then it was that the burden fell upon him. -The plantation was an unusually large one, -and its late owner had been accounted the richest -man in all the region round about, just as -his forbears for generations past had been. -Wanalah, the ancestral seat of the family, had -been for two hundred years the home of a -hospitable, high living, high mettled race of -men and women, but during the reign of Boyd -Westover's father the hospitality of Wanalah -had outdone itself in lavishness. There were -always guests in numbers there, and a multitude -of servants were withheld from profitable -industry to minister to their comfort. There -were thoroughbred horses enough in the stables -to mount half a company of cavalry, and a like -profusion was apparent in the case of every -other provision for enjoyment and the unstinted -entertainment of guests. In brief the -late master of Wanalah had kept open house -for all gentlemanly comers. -</p> - -<p> -But when Boyd Westover took his degree -at the University in early June and returned -to Wanalah to assume his duties as administrator, -he learned for the first time that the -plantation had not been earning the cost of all -this high living. There was not only the -hereditary debt upon the place—a debt that -so great a plantation, wisely conducted, might -have borne comfortably—but added to it was -a confused mass of fresh debts accumulated -during his father's lifetime and in consequence -of his extravagance. -</p> - -<p> -The entertainment of pleasure-seeking guests -was suspended now, of course, during the -period of mourning, and in view of the ill -health into which his mother had fallen since -the shock of his father's sudden death, the suspension -seemed likely to endure for a long -period to come. -</p> - -<p> -In the meantime Boyd Westover was both -perplexed and appalled by the magnitude of -the problem he was set to solve. For a time -he doubted even the solvency of the estate, but -later reckonings had shown him that this fear -was not justified, though the fact brought small -relief to his mind, for peculiar reasons connected -with the character of the property itself. -If he might have sold out everything, he could -have paid off all the debts, leaving a small but -sufficient competency for his mother's support. -As for himself, he gave no thought for the -future. He was young, strong and fit to meet -fate unarmed. -</p> - -<p> -But he could not sell the property without -unpardonable offence to his own soul and to -the sentiment of the community which was to -him the world. For by far the greater part -of that property and altogether the most salable -part of it consisted of the negroes, every -one of whom had been born on Wanalah plantation -as their parents and grandparents and -great-grandparents had been before them. -Among the high class Virginians—the class -to which Boyd Westover belonged by immemorial -inheritance—it was held to be a -shamefully impossible thing to sell a negro except -for incorrigible crime, or for the purpose -of bringing a man and wife together, on one -plantation. -</p> - -<p> -"I simply will not sell the servants," the -young man said to himself when matters -seemed at their worst. "Rather than do that, -I'll run them all off north, set them free and -let the estate fall into bankruptcy." -</p> - -<p> -Since that time the young man's close study -of the situation had convinced him that neither -of these courses was necessary. By cutting -down the force of house servants to the measure -of his own and his mother's modest -needs, and putting every able-bodied negro at -profitable work in the crops, he was confident -that he could make the plantation carry its load -of debt and slowly reduce it. -</p> - -<p> -That was now his task, and in spite of the -glory of the midsummer morning his mind was -busy planning ways and means, when suddenly -a combined baying from the hounds arrested -his attention. Looking up he saw a young -woman on horseback in a pasture not far -ahead—a young woman in difficulty and sore -danger. -</p> - -<p> -Streamers of flaming red—the reason for -which he could in no wise guess—were flying -from her shoulders and a maddened bull of -huge bulk was charging her with the fury of -a bovine demon. -</p> - -<p> -Instantly the young man plunged the rowels -into the flanks of his horse. An eight-rail -fence lay in his way, but there was no time in -which to throw off even one of its rails. Without -a thought of pause he urged his horse -toward it at the top of his speed, determined -to force him over it or through it as the case -might be. The weight of the steed and the -speed at which he was moving would be sufficient, -Boyd Westover thought, to crush a way -through the barrier. It was likely to cost the -beautiful animal his life, but what of that? -There was another life at stake, in rescue of -which the young man was ready to sacrifice -even his own—for the life in peril was that -of the woman he loved, the woman who had -awakened all the passion, all the tenderness, -all the chivalry of his brave young soul. To -save her he would have doomed any and every -other living thing to cruel death. -</p> - -<p> -The horse he rode seemed to realize the -perilous choice his rider was forcing upon him -and to choose the safer but far more difficult -course. Putting forth all his superb strength -in utmost endeavor, he cleared the barrier at -a flying leap. -</p> - -<p> -As he did so his rider saw to his horror that -the young woman's mount had faltered in her -frightened flight, and in the next instant the -beautiful mare was lifted bodily from the -ground, impaled upon the sharp horns of the -bull and evidently done to death by the goring. -As the animal fell the young woman was hurled -forward half a dozen yards, and before the -wrath-blinded bull could gather himself together -for a charge upon her prostrate form, -Boyd Westover forced his own horse between -the bull and his victim and with three or four -rapid swishes of the cruel black-snake whip -across the animal's face and eyes, sent him -staggering back. -</p> - -<p> -The delay, as the young man knew, would -be but for a few seconds, but these proved sufficient -for his purpose. Turning his horse -toward the unconscious girl, he hooked his left -knee around the cantle of his saddle and, hanging -almost head downwards, seized her about -the waist. Recovering his position, he placed -her across the horse's withers. The bull was -almost upon him now, but a sharp touch of the -spurs caused the horse to spring forward at -a full run in time to save himself and his riders, -though the escape was so narrow that one -of the bull's horns tore an ugly gash in the -calf of Boyd Westover's leg. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="p8"></a> -The body of the girl hung limp across the -withers, so that her rescuer knew not whether -she lived or had been killed by her fall. Until -his horse cleared the fence again—this time -scattering the upper rails as he did so—there -was no time for inquiry. But once out of the -field, the young man reined in the frantic -creature, and lifting the girl's head to his -shoulder, felt her fluttering breath upon his -cheek. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank God she lives!" he exclaimed with -reverent fervor, but his efforts to rouse her to -consciousness were unavailing. -</p> - -<p> -"It may be only a faint," he thought, but -such fainting as he had seen among women had -been far less enduring than this, and the memory -of that fact greatly alarmed him. -</p> - -<p> -He reflected that in any case the shock produced -by the dashing of water into the face is -desirable at such times, and turning his horse's -head he rode down a slope into a shaded, grass-carpeted -dell, where a bubbling spring arose. -Gently laying the girl on the greensward, but -resting her head in his lap, he dashed handfuls -of water into her face, with the result of arousing -her almost at once. When she opened her -eyes they were vacant and dreamy, like those -of one only half awakened from sleep, but a -few moments later the light came back into -them, and she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it you, Boyd? Then you're not dead, -as I dreamed you were." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, no, I'm not hurt," he replied—ignoring -his lacerated leg—"but you mustn't talk -yet. Lie still till you feel better." And with -that he gently passed his hand over her eyes, -closing them. -</p> - -<p> -She lay quiet for a minute or two seemingly -asleep, and he, moved by a sudden impulse—whether -of passion or pity he knew not—bent -over and pressed his lips to hers—gently uttering -her name—"Margaret." -</p> - -<p> -Instantly he repented, as she opened her -eyes and with a flushing face tried to raise herself -to a sitting posture, saying as she made the -effort. -</p> - -<p> -"I reckon you mustn't do that." -</p> - -<p> -But the effort to rise was futile. Sharp -pain caused her to grow pale again and she -sank back as she had been. -</p> - -<p> -"Where are you hurt, Margaret?" Boyd -asked in sympathetic distress. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know; all over I reckon." -</p> - -<p> -"Are any of your bones broken? Feel of -them and see." -</p> - -<p> -"I reckon not. I can't tell. The pains are -all over me—mostly inside. I reckon I'm going -to faint." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd Westover was now seriously alarmed. -He vaguely remembered hearing of persons -dying of "internal injuries," though externally -showing no hurt. Instantly he lifted the -girl again and, mounting with her in his arms, -set off at a gallop toward the great house at -Wanalah. -</p> - -<p> -The sharp prick of a pin, as he adjusted his -burden on the withers, attracted his attention -to the two flaming red bandana kerchiefs, -pinned by their corners to Margaret's shoulders, -and in the midst of his apprehensions for -her life he found time to wonder why she had -decorated herself in that extraordinary way. -He was too full of anxious concern to question -her on so trivial a matter, but she, recovering -herself, volunteered an explanation, after asking -him to reduce the horse's gait to a walk. -</p> - -<p> -"I reckon I was right foolish," she said, -laughing in spite of her pain. "You see this -is one of old Aunt Sally's birthdays. She has -one every three or four months now, and she's -rapidly adding to her ninety years—a year at -each birthday. She was my Mammy you -know, and so I always take her a present on -her birthdays." -</p> - -<p> -The girl paused in her speech as some sharp -twinge of pain changed her smile into a grimace. -It was only for a moment, and she continued: -</p> - -<p> -"On her last birthday, two or three months -ago, she told me I would some day be an angel -with red wings, and so when I set out this -morning to take her these two turban kerchiefs, -the foolish whim came to me to pin them to -my shoulders and make red wings of them." -</p> - -<p> -Again an access of severe pain silenced -speech and she closed her eyes while her lips -grew pale. Evidently the effort to chatter had -been too much for her, and Boyd rightly -guessed that she had been forcing herself to -talk of her little prank by way of preventing -him from saying more serious things which -she did not wish just then to hear. -</p> - -<p> -He in his turn resolved to say those more -serious things at the earliest opportunity. He -felt that in caressing her as he had done, down -there by the spring, he had placed himself under -a binding obligation to explain at the first -possible opportunity, and the explanation could -take but one form—a full and free declaration -of his yet unspoken passion. This, he felt, he -had no right to delay one moment longer than -he must, but as she lay still with closed eyes, -her head upon his shoulder and his arm about -her, he realized that his present and very pressing -task was to place her as soon as possible -in the tender care of his mother and her maids. -</p> - -<p> -The rest must wait. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap02"></a> -II -<br /> -A SONG WITHOUT WORDS -</h3> - -<p> -The physician for whom Boyd Westover -sent a young negro at breakneck -speed, while his mother's maids were -getting Margaret Conway to bed, reported that -she had "sustained painful contusions" and -was additionally "suffering from shock," but -that no bones were broken and, so far as he -could determine, no serious internal injuries -had befallen. He directed that she should remain -in bed for a few days, and then stay -quietly at Wanalah, without attempting a -homeward journey until he should himself give -permission. -</p> - -<p> -"Above all," he said to Boyd, "she must -not be excited in any way—pleasurably or the -reverse—lest hysteria supervene." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd smiled a little over the medical man's -stilted diction, and rejoiced in the assurance -of Margaret's safety which the ponderous -phraseology gave him. But upon reflection he -chafed a good deal over the restraint the doctor's -instructions required him to put upon -himself. He was impatient now to put into -words the declaration of love which his caresses -had implied and promised. He was still -more impatient for her reply to that declaration, -for, like the modest young lover that he -was, he gravely feared his fate and was annoyed -by the necessity of waiting before putting -it to the test. -</p> - -<p> -Her words, spoken half consciously when -she had received or repelled his embraces—for -he could not determine in his own mind -whether she had meant to do the one or the -other—in no wise encouraged his self-confidence. -He recalled those words:—"I reckon -you mustn't do that"—and questioned them -closely as to their significance, but no satisfactory -answer came. The utterance might mean -anything or nothing. And what did the suddenly -flushing face that accompanied it suggest? -Was it joy or sorrow, pleasure or resentment -that had sent the blood to her cheeks -in that way, and prompted her attempt to -escape him by rising? Wonder as he might -he could not tell, and as he paced the colonnaded -porch that night after all the house was -asleep, he succeeded only in working himself -into a passionate fury of impatience and maddening -perplexity. -</p> - -<p> -He tried to reason with himself, only to find -himself utterly unreasonable. Doubtless Margaret -would be enjoying the air in the porch -within a few days, resting and perhaps interestingly -helpless still. The attentions he must -lavish upon her in that case promised abundant -opportunity for a tenderness of care which -would open the way for his passionate declaration. -At that point in his planning another -and a very annoying thought obtruded itself. -</p> - -<p> -"Confound it!" he muttered, "Colonel -Conway is a stickler for all the conventions of -our artificial social life. He will insist upon -the idiotic rule that a young man mustn't address -a girl in his own house or at any time -when she is under his protection. What utter -nonsense it is, anyhow! But I suppose I must -obey it or bring down Colonel Conway's wrath -upon my head. I must let all my opportunities -slip away, and restrain my impulses during all -the time she's here, making myself seem to her -a cold-blooded brute who has taken advantage -of her helplessness to force caresses upon her -and then doesn't think enough of her dignity -to explain himself." -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps Boyd Westover's mood was playing -tricks with his logical faculties. It is certain -that if he had been asked at any ordinary time -his opinion of the social requirement which -he now scorned as an idiotic convention, he -would have answered that it was eminently -right and reasonable, that it was imperatively -necessary indeed, for the protection of the -young woman in the case against the embarrassment -of having to accept hospitality or escort -or favor of other kind from a man whose -proffer of love she has just rejected. -</p> - -<p> -But who expects an impatient lover to be -reasonable—who that has ever been himself -a lover? Reasonable or unreasonable, Boyd -Westover felt himself bound to observe the -rule that imposed so annoying a restraint upon -him. He might fret and fume in revolt against -it, but he must bend to the custom. He resolved -to wait with what grace he could until -Margaret's return to her own home. He -worked out in his mind all the situations that -were likely to occur during her convalescence -at Wanalah, and framed all the conversations -to fit the embarrassing circumstances. -</p> - -<p> -Of course the situations that actually arose -were totally different from those he had imagined, -and the dialogues he had rehearsed -proved to be as unfit for use as the text of a -Greek tragedy would be on a modern comedy -stage. -</p> - -<p> -Colonel Conway, who happened to be in -Richmond when his daughter's mishap occurred, -returned at once and, after learning the -details, delivered his thanks and commendations -in a way that overwhelmed her rescuer -with embarrassment. It was in vain that -Boyd protested, disclaimed any right or title -to the Colonel's extravagant eulogies of his -conduct, and declared that he had done no -more than any other man would have done -under like circumstances. Colonel Conway -would not have it so. -</p> - -<p> -"You gravely imperilled your own life, -sir," he replied in his peremptory way. "You -went to the rescue of a damsel in distress as -only a gallant knight would do, with reckless -disregard of all consequences to yourself. -That's what I call heroism, sir, heroism worthy -of the name you bear and the proud race from -which you are sprung. Now don't protest, -don't contradict, don't argue, don't answer. It -is only your modesty that shrinks from the -recognition of your gallantry"—and so on -with what Boyd felt to be "damnable iteration." -</p> - -<p> -But when the old gentleman had gone back -to Richmond, leaving his daughter to the care -of Boyd Westover's mother, the young man -reflected that the Colonel's enthusiasm would -probably stand him in good stead if ever Margaret -should smile upon his suit and give him -leave to ask her father for her hand. -</p> - -<p> -Thus in meditations sometimes hopeful and -joyous, sometimes perplexed and desponding, -Boyd Westover worried through the days until -the glad morning came when Margaret Conway -rebelled against her physician's orders and -made her appearance in the porch. She was -still weak enough and enough distressed by her -bruises to be treated as a convalescent to -whom solicitous attention was due, and of -course Boyd elected himself her "gentleman in -waiting." -</p> - -<p> -These two, brought up on adjoining plantations, -had known each other from their earliest -childhood, but in later years they had seen -little of each other. Boyd had been away, -first at boarding-school and afterwards at the -University, while the motherless girl had been -slowly and awkwardly growing to womanhood, -under care of her aunt and the tutelage -of an accomplished governess. It was only -during vacations that the two had met, and -during the last two summers they had not met -at all, for the reason that Margaret, with her -father, had been travelling in the North and -Canada and in what was then the great West -during both those seasons. -</p> - -<p> -It was with surprise, therefore, not unmixed -with the awe of strangeness, that on his return -from the University this year he had found -his little playmate grown into a beautiful and -very dignified womanhood. She presided now -at The Oaks, her father's plantation, with all -the gracious ease that enabled Virginia women -of that time to make of plantation houses delightful -centres of unruffled hospitality, where -the coming and going of guests was in no way -a matter of previous arrangement and where -neither the coming nor the going created the -smallest ripple in the placid self-composure of -the well-ordered life of the mansion. -</p> - -<p> -So great was the change in her, or so great -did it seem to Boyd, that at first he hesitated -and faltered over the old familiar form of address. -It did not seem possible to him to call -this dignified and almost stately young woman -"Margaret" as he had always called the little -girl that she had been. He could not address -her as "Miss Conway" but he thought he -might compromise on the form "Miss Margaret." -The first time he addressed her in that -fashion was the only time. She looked at -him in dignified surprise for a moment; then -with a rippling little laugh that seemed to him -singularly charming, she said: -</p> - -<p> -"If we have become such strangers, Boyd, -that you must put a handle to my name, I'll -give you all your honors and address you as -'Boyd Westover, Esq., M. A., University of -Virginia.' You are to call me just 'Margaret,' -please, as you've always done, if you wish to -be just 'Boyd' to me." -</p> - -<p> -As she spoke the words all the winsomeness -he remembered in the girl came back again, -but it did not dissipate the stately dignity that -had grown upon her with her ripening womanhood. -It was perhaps at that moment that he -fell in love with her. Of that he could never -be sure, but he knew now that his love for her -was the one supreme passion of his life. That -knowledge had come to him at the moment -when he first realized her danger out there in -the pasture. He recalled now the impulse that -had prompted him in his half mad determination -to let no obstacle stand in the way of his -reaching her in time for rescue. He remembered -the horror that had rended his very soul -as he saw the maddened bull lift the mare and -her rider and fling them from his gory horns. -He knew now that he had done and dared in -those maddening moments, not with the humane -impulse to save an imperilled life that -must come to every man with blood in his -veins, but actuated by his passionate love's instinct -of self-preservation. -</p> - -<p> -As he ministered to her after her return to -the porch, all these memories were awakened -in him by a certain change that had come over -her, a shyness that was not quite reserve, but -yet resembled it. He was too little acquainted -with the ways of women to understand this -or to estimate it aright. It did not occur to -him that the revelation he had made to her by -his passionate caress as she lay half conscious -in his arms might explain her impulse of reserve. -He was too scantily versed in the impulses -of womanhood to understand that after -such a manifestation of his love womanly modesty -must stand upon its defence until such -time as he should see fit to give more formal -and definite expression to his purpose. -</p> - -<p> -Yet to that caress he attributed the change. -It was only that he misinterpreted its meaning. -The thought came to him that he had mortally -offended her, that she resented his act in the -only way possible to her so long as she must -remain a guest in his mother's house, and that -upon her release from that restraint she would -banish him forever from her presence and her -acquaintance. -</p> - -<p> -So severely did all this torture him that on -the second day of her convalescence the impulse -to make an end of suspense overcame him, -banishing for the moment all considerations of -prudence and all regard for conventionalities. -He had read to her for an hour, and when the -book was finished, he observed a certain restlessness -on her part, for which he suggested -one or two remedies, only to have his suggestions -negatived. Presently she said: -</p> - -<p> -"It is only that I need exercise, I reckon. -I think I'll try to walk a little, up and down the -porch." She rose with some difficulty, he taking -her hand in assistance. But no sooner -was she on her feet than she relaxed her grasp -upon his hand, and, as he did not relax his -own so readily, she seemed to shake it off. -The act was not an impatient one, but he mistook -it for such. Instantly he faced her, asking: -</p> - -<p> -"Why did you do that, Margaret? Why -have you tried in every way to show me that -my presence is disagreeable to you? What -have I done to offend you? Tell me, and I'll -quit the plantation at once and stay away so -long as you remain. I have a right to know. -Tell me!" -</p> - -<p> -For answer the young woman looked at -him in silence but with tear drops glistening -in her eyes. At last she said: -</p> - -<p> -"You have done nothing that you ought not, -I reckon—nothing to offend me. Oh, Boyd, -I'm not angry with you—I can never feel -that way. I owe my life to you, but that isn't -it. I don't know what it is. May be it's just -because I'm weak—or may be just because." -</p> - -<p> -With that the tears released themselves and -trickled down her cheeks. She could not restrain -them and she made no effort to hide -them. She simply stood there facing him and -letting the honest tears flow unrestrained. -</p> - -<p> -There was no need of second sight to foretell -the result. Nothing in all the world so -unseats a man's resolution as the vision of the -woman he loves in tears. Boyd Westover was -a full-blooded young man and he acted after -his kind. He took the unresisting girl in his -arms and passionately embraced her. Words -on either side were unnecessary. Love is quick -to understand. But the words came also, after -a space—words of love beyond recalling, -words of the kind that make or mar human -lives and set Destiny its tasks. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap03"></a> -III -<br /> -A WOMAN'S WORD -</h3> - -<p> -Those were halcyon days that followed, -while Margaret lingered at -Wanalah. The barriers were broken -down now between these two; the vexing suspense -was over and the most precious certainty -that human kind can know had taken its place. -</p> - -<p> -And there was not the embarrassment of -others' knowing. No word of their awakened -love had been spoken, or could be spoken until -Margaret's return to The Oaks should impose -upon her lover the duty of announcing their -understanding to her father and invoking his -sanction of their troth. Until that time should -come they were not "engaged" and might -pass their days and nights under one roof without -offending even Virginian propriety. Convention -had no claim to control over them in -those blissful intervening days. -</p> - -<p> -But the shadow of it fell on the morning of -the day when Margaret was to journey homewards -in company with her maid. -</p> - -<p> -"I will visit Colonel Conway at The Oaks -to-morrow," Boyd promised as the pair strolled -through the garden during the morning hours -that alone remained to them now. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder how he will receive the news—our -news, Margaret?" -</p> - -<p> -"How he will receive it? Why, of course -he—" -</p> - -<p> -"He's rather rigid, you know, in his views -of propriety, and I've sinned against light in -that respect. You see I addressed you in my -own home, and not only so, but at a time when -you were not able to run away." -</p> - -<p> -Margaret laughed half below her breath. -</p> - -<p> -"That was very terrible of course," she said -in an amused tone. "But I see a way out of -it, Boyd." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you do. That's feminine instinct. -But tell me about it." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, it's simple enough. If Father finds -fault with that, you can take it all back and -say it all over again at The Oaks." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd smiled over the conceit, but he was not -reassured by it. The case was one in which -the least shadow of uncertainty seemed more -than he could endure. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh I forgot," the girl went on, teasingly; -"perhaps it wouldn't be agreeable to you to -rehearse the scene." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd said not a word in reply, but he managed -in another way to convince her that her -doubt on that point was unfounded. When she -had readjusted the "flat" that she wore as -headgear—it had somehow become disarranged—she -put jest aside, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"I think we needn't fear anything of that -sort, Boyd. My father is apt to make distinctions, -just as other people are. If he disliked -you or disapproved of you, he would make -trouble of course; but as it is I reckon he will -brush the thing aside and scold about the -idiocy that makes such silly rules." -</p> - -<p> -She paused in her speech for a space. Then -she added, in a tone which the young man -afterwards recalled in doubt and distress: -</p> - -<p> -"At any rate it makes no difference. Nothing -can make any difference—now." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me, please," he said gently, "just -what you mean by that." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not a women to love lightly, or lightly -to forget. Love seems to me a holy thing and -to trifle with it is blasphemy. I have given -you my love, Boyd, and there is no power in -all the universe that can make me take it back. -Even you could not do that. Nothing you -might do—even if it were crime itself—could -alter the fact that my love is all yours, -now and forever." -</p> - -<p> -He drew her to him in a tender embrace, but -spoke no word in reply. Speech in such a case -must be an impertinence. Presently she went -on: -</p> - -<p> -"That is what I meant, Boyd. I have promised -to be your wife. I shall keep that promise -if the stars fall. I have no doubt my father -will cordially give his consent; but if it should -be otherwise, it will make no difference—I -shall keep my promise." -</p> - -<p> -How those words came back in after time -to Boyd Westover! And how he pondered -them in amazement and bitterness of soul! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap04"></a> -IV -<br /> -THE BEST LAID PLANS -</h3> - -<p> -Margaret was right in her anticipations -regarding Colonel Conway's -attitude. He highly approved of the -young man upon whose gallantry in rescue he -had enthusiastically and incessantly descanted -in all companies. He was in no mood to find -fault with the slight lapse of Boyd Westover -from conventional propriety. He liked the -way in which Boyd presented his case, neither -justifying his conduct by argument nor offering -excuses for it, but treating it as a matter -of manhood necessity. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose I should not have addressed -Margaret when I did," he said in manly fashion; -"I ought to have waited, but under the -circumstances I couldn't help myself. Hang -it, Colonel, there are times when a man must -do things he ought not." -</p> - -<p> -"Right, my boy, altogether right, absolutely -right, eternally right," was the enthusiastic -response. "It's blood that flows in your veins—hot -blood—and not tepid milk and water. -Why, sir, I courted Margaret's mother as we -hung to the gunwale of a capsized sailboat, -and I've been proud of it all my life, sir. A -mollycoddle would have waited for her to comb -her hair and put on dry clothes while he was -making up pretty speeches for the occasion. -That's the mollycoddle's way. The man's way -is to tell the girl he loves her, whenever the -right moment comes, and leave the dry clothes -and the pretty speeches for another time. So -don't apologize, don't fret, don't give the thing -another thought. You shall have Margaret's -hand with her father's blessing whenever you -and she choose to fix upon the day. I'll pack -The Oaks with the best of good company; -there shall be feasting and—oh, by the way, -there's one little formality I suppose you'll have -to go through. There's Margaret's aunt,—my -sister Betsy, you know. It'll be best all -around if you treat her with distinguished consideration. -She's apt to stand upon her dignity, -and I've always found it best to recognize -the fact, gracefully. It ministers to peace and -comfort. I think you and Margaret had better -present yourselves to her together, and do the -thing up with all the formalities. It will not -be necessary to mention to her the little slip -you've been confessing to me. She'd probably -take it seriously. It's a way she has. You -can just let her think the thing occurred here -to-day. You and Margaret can go out into the -garden after dinner, and when you return present -yourselves to Betsy and tell her about it -as if it had just happened." -</p> - -<p> -With the reassurance of the solemn words -Margaret had spoken the day before, Boyd -Westover had no great fear of anything "Aunt -Betsy" might say, but he was disposed to -humor Colonel Conway, and besides he foresaw -that life at The Oaks might be pleasanter -for Margaret with the old lady's approval than -without it. So the little diplomatic stratagem -was carried out so successfully that Aunt Betsy—always -chary in the bestowal of praise—said -to Margaret that night: -</p> - -<p> -"If you must marry,—and I suppose you -must,—I'm glad you're to marry a young -gentleman who observes the courtesies of life -and knows how to treat his elders with proper -respect. I rather approve of Mr. Boyd Westover." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, Aunt Betsy," Margaret answered, -concealing a smile. "You don't often -say so much in praise of a young man." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course not. In these days it's not easy -to find young gentlemen who deserve any -praise at all. Manners are so dreadfully lax -nowadays. Even you shock and distress me -frequently, in spite of the pains I've taken to -train you properly." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Aunt Betsy, what have I been doing -now? Is it something dreadful?" -</p> - -<p> -"From my point of view it is. You spoke -of Mr. Boyd Westover just now, by implication -at least, as a 'young man.' A young lady -doesn't associate with 'young men'; those -whom she recognizes are young <i>gentlemen</i>." -</p> - -<p> -"If you'd seen him encounter that bull and -snatch me from under his horns, Aunt Betsy, -I reckon you'd have thought him a good deal -of a man." -</p> - -<p> -"No—a good deal of a gentleman rather. -The distinction is important, my dear, though -I can't make you see it. And besides he's so -polite to his elders, especially ladies. I was -never more respectfully treated in my life. -He's just like the young gentlemen of my time. -Of course when he addressed you he sank -upon his knees—" -</p> - -<p> -"He certainly did nothing of the kind," -Margaret answered hotly. "If he had I should -have spurned him with contempt. No man -who respects himself would bend his knee to -any woman." -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you would say 'gentleman' and -'lady'—and especially wouldn't call yourself -a 'woman,' Margaret. It's positively shocking. -But it's so with everybody in these degenerate -days—even well-bred young girls, -and Heaven is my witness that I've tried hard, -to raise you well. When did he address you -the first time?" -</p> - -<p> -"There was only this one time," Margaret -answered, dreamily, as she recalled the scene -on the porch. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean, Margaret, that you accepted -him the first time he asked you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Aunt Betsy, why not? I loved him." -</p> - -<p> -"Margaret, you shock me; worse than that, -your conduct grieves and afflicts me. Haven't -I told you a thousand times that no lady ever -forgets her dignity so far as that?" -</p> - -<p> -"I haven't counted the times, Aunt Betsy, -but probably your estimate of a thousand isn't -far wrong. It is more than five hundred at -any rate." -</p> - -<p> -"Margaret, you trifle, and I'm not accustomed -to be trifled with." -</p> - -<p> -"I beg your pardon, Aunt Betsy. I didn't -mean to trifle. Listen to me seriously now. -I hold the love of a man and a woman to be -the holiest thing on earth. I regard all trifling -with it as blasphemy, and I think all your rules -and conventionalities concerning it silly and -sinful nonsense. If there is ever a time when -a woman should be honest and truthful it is -when the man she loves tells her of his love -and asks for hers in return. There, I have -shocked you dreadfully, I know, but you forced -me to do it. I have spoken the truth as my -soul sees it." -</p> - -<p> -Without another word the high-strung girl -quitted the room. It was the first time in her -life that she had "broken bounds" with her -aunt, and her self-assertion astonished even -herself. But she did not and would not repent -of it. Love had brought to her a new dignity -of womanhood, that was all. -</p> - -<p> -During the week that followed Boyd Westover -found himself a busier man than he had -ever been before. He was up at dawn to set -going the day's work in the crops, and not -long after sunrise he was apt to appear at The -Oaks where Margaret awaited his coming for -their early morning ride. After breakfast with -her he returned to his fields, but by four o'clock -he was at The Oaks again for dinner. His -evenings were spent in his own chamber, where -he toiled over papers until far into the night, -in an effort to master every detail of the financial -condition of the Wanalah estate. -</p> - -<p> -When he had done so, he asked for a conference -with Colonel Conway, to whom he explained -his plans. -</p> - -<p> -"I find that the interest charged on nearly -all the notes my father gave is higher than it -ought to be; on some it is positively extortionate. -My father was an optimist, I suppose, -and he seems to have fallen among thieves—money -lenders, I should say." -</p> - -<p> -"One and the same thing," said the elder -man. "I know their kind. I'm myself a victim. -Go on." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, as I figure it out, the excessive interest -the estate is paying—I mean the amount -of interest in excess of a reasonable rate—eats -up about half the tobacco crop every year, -and I've decided to stop it, just as we stop -the depredations of the worms and grasshoppers." -</p> - -<p> -"Good! But how?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, I'm going to Richmond, and perhaps -to the North if necessary, to find some -one who will take a single mortgage loan for -the whole amount of the estate's debts, a loan -carrying a reasonable rate of interest. With -the proceeds I'll cancel all the present debts, -and thereafter the estate will have but one -creditor, pay a moderate interest and devote -every dollar of surplus earnings to a steady -reduction of the principal. I've figured the -whole thing out, and with ordinarily fair crops -and a reasonable style of living, I can extinguish -the entire debt in ten years or less." -</p> - -<p> -The two went together over the figures, and -the older man, who was both shrewd and experienced, -pronounced the plan entirely sound -and feasible. It remained only to find the -bank, insurance company, or other financial institution -that would make the loan. -</p> - -<p> -In search of that, Boyd Westover set off -almost at once for Richmond. As he rode -away after parting with Margaret he turned in -his saddle and gaily waved her a last adieu, -quite as if the parting were expected to be for -months or years instead of for the brief tale of -days the youth assigned to it. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap05"></a> -V -<br /> -PLEASANT DREAMS AND AN UGLY AWAKENING -</h3> - -<p> -Boyd Westover sat in his hotel -room about nine o'clock in the evening. -Papers, mostly memoranda, lay scattered -about upon his table, while some large -sheets were spread out before him. On these -he was making calculations. -</p> - -<p> -He was a thorough-going person by nature -and habit, and he was making careful estimates -of the several offers he had secured for the -making of the desired loan on Wanalah plantation, -in an effort to determine which of -them he might most wisely accept. -</p> - -<p> -Finally he said to himself: -</p> - -<p> -"The Milhauser offer is the best, or will be -if I can persuade the agent to accept a mortgage -instead of the deed of trust he wants. -Perhaps I can. He didn't make the condition -peremptory, and he clearly wants to secure the -loan as an investment. I'll see him in the -morning. No, by the way, he said I'd find -him at home this evening if I should want to -see him. I'll walk out to his house now." -</p> - -<p> -Turning to the table he took up one of the -memorandum sheets and read at top the number -of the agent's house in far upper Broad -Street. -</p> - -<p> -"It's almost out of town," he muttered. -"Must be out beyond Richmond College. -But the walk will do me good, and I'll sleep -better if I can get the thing settled to-night." -</p> - -<p> -He put an extinguisher over the camphene -lamp, and set out without overcoat or wrap -of any kind. It was a warm, cloudy summer -night, and the Virginians rarely wore overcoats -even in winter. They were horsemen, -all of them, and even the lightest overcoat is -a burden and a nuisance to one riding on -horseback. -</p> - -<p> -As he walked up Grace Street beneath the -spreading shade trees, it began to rain, not -heavily but steadily. Westover was too well -accustomed to the out of door life to think of -turning back because of a drizzle, but as the -rain increased he turned up the collar of his -coat and drew his soft felt hat down over his -eyes. Presently he stopped under a street lamp -and consulted a paper which he drew from his -pocket. Some detail of the negotiation had escaped -his mind and he stopped thus to refresh -his memory. -</p> - -<p> -As he stood there under the lamp with his -back turned away from the sidewalk Sam Anderson, -an acquaintance of his own, passed, -and recognizing him called out: -</p> - -<p> -"Hello, Boyd! Reading a love letter by the -light of a street lamp in a soaking rain? You'd -better go indoors somewhere unless you want -to imagine tear drops punctuating the tender -missive." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd turned and made some careless reply. -The two separated—Boyd going on up Grace -Street and turning north to Broad, while Anderson -hurried down town. -</p> - -<p> -The incident was utterly trifling in itself, -but it was destined to exercise a baleful influence -upon Boyd Westover's life. -</p> - -<p> -It was nearly an hour after midnight when -the young man presented himself again at the -hotel office and asked for his key. The night -clerk observed that he was soaked and dripping, -for the rain was falling in torrents now, -and suggested the need of a little fire in Boyd's -room. The fire was ordered, as the night had -grown chill in spite of the season, and by the -time he had got himself into dry clothes, the -blaze of the soft coal had made the room so -cheerful that the young man decided to write -letters before going to bed. One of them was -addressed to Colonel Conway, and in it Boyd -announced his success in arranging the loan, -setting forth the terms secured and going minutely -into detail. In the other, which was -addressed to Colonel Conway's daughter, he -told again of his success, giving no details at -all, but setting forth his rosy anticipations of -the coming time—now not far away—when -she should be "my lady of Wanalah." -</p> - -<p> -The letter to Colonel Conway was a long -one of necessity; that to Margaret was much -longer without any necessity at all. But even -the longest letter must come to an end sometime, -and at last, about four o'clock in the -morning, Boyd Westover crept into bed, a man -altogether happy in the present and confidently -hopeful of the future. And why not? Fortune -was bringing him its richest gifts. Love -was already his and the future held out to him -an assured promise of happiness and peace in -the plantation life he loved. Now that he had -succeeded in arranging his financial affairs to -his liking, he had no vexing problems to -wrestle with, no cause of anxiety of any kind. -With Margaret for his wife, with an ample -sufficiency of this world's goods, he had only to -conduct his plantation affairs, to entertain his -friends, and to keep company with his books. -</p> - -<p> -It was of all this he dreamed when he sank -to sleep. -</p> - -<p> -When he awoke a constable stood by his -bedside, with two of his assistants a few feet -farther away. -</p> - -<p> -"Sorry, sir," said the constable. "I don't -like to wake a gentleman, sir, and still less in -a case like this. If it was only a common -criminal, sir, I shouldn't mind, but with a -young gentleman, my duty ain't no ways a -pleasant job." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean, you ruffian?" angrily -asked Westover springing out of bed. "Why -do you presume to—" -</p> - -<p> -"'Taint presumin' I reckon," answered the -constable, "when I've got this fer my authority. -Read it, sir, and see." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd hastily glanced at the paper. It was -a warrant for his arrest on a charge of burglary. -</p> - -<p> -He laughed a little, as he proceeded to dress, -saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Of course this is a ludicrous mistake, but -you are not to blame for it. Those who are -will have to answer for their blundering. I'm -ready. Take me to the magistrate." -</p> - -<p> -"He don't git up this soon in the mornin', -sir. He was woke up to 'tend to this thing, -an' he wa'n't in no pleasant frame o' mind -'bout it nuther. I reckon he'll lay abed late -this mornin' to make up his lost sleep, like. I -don't reckon he'll show hisself in court till 'long -'bout noon." -</p> - -<p> -"Where will you take me, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"I reckon it'll have to be the lock-up, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"The lock-up? You mean a jail?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well jail's the straightaway name fer it, -but we mostly calls it lock-up. Seems softer -like." -</p> - -<p> -"Now my man, listen to me. You have no -right to put me in jail. Your warrant merely -directs you to arrest me and bring me to court. -It says nothing about locking me up in jail. I -tell you there's some absurd mistake about this -thing, and when I'm brought before the magistrate -it will all be cleared up. You can detain -me until then without putting a jail indignity -upon me. Stay here at the hotel with me. Go -with me to breakfast, leaving your men on -guard outside. When the time comes take me -before the magistrate. In the meanwhile I'll -send for my lawyer and find out what's to be -done." -</p> - -<p> -The constable ran his eye over the muscular -young man, and shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"Can't be did," he replied. "You mout -make up your mind to break away, and I don't -brag o' stren'th enough to handle a limber -twig like you." -</p> - -<p> -"Well then, you can bring your men with -you into the dining room and keep them with -you." -</p> - -<p> -"See here, Mr. Westover," interrupted the -bailiff, "this here ain't noways a pleasant job -fer me, an' ef you'll give me your word of -honor as a gentleman that you won't git me -into no trouble by givin' me the slip or tryin' -to break bounds, I'll take the chances on you. -I won't go to breakfast with you, 'cause it 'ud -make talk ef folks saw a gentleman like you -a entertainin' a feller like me that a ways. I'll -jest set down furder down the table like, an' -leave my men outside. Is it a go?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, and thank you for your consideration. -I give you my word of honor as a gentleman -that I will make no attempt to escape, either -during breakfast or at any other time, and -that when you wish me to go to the court with -you I'll go without a word. Is that sufficient?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir, that's enough. A gentleman may -do things that gits him into trouble with the -courts, but I ain't never knowed a gentleman -to break his word of honor." -</p> - -<p> -The constable was by no means an over-confiding -person, but the dictum he announced -was based upon the facts of a social system -with which he had been familiar all his life. -It would have been accepted without question -by any other man of his class in the commonwealth. -Thanks to it, Boyd Westover was -left free to go and come at will within the precincts -of the hotel. He hurriedly summoned -his friend and attorney, Jack Towns, and remained -in conference with him throughout the -morning. -</p> - -<p> -Neither could frame any plausible conjecture -as to the meaning of the arrest. There -was nothing in any of the morning newspapers -to give even a hint toward the solution of the -mystery. It was not the practice of the Richmond -newspapers at that time to print news, -except such as related to politics. If by -chance they recorded any local happening, it -was by mere mention, in small type in some -out of the way corner of columns which were -mainly devoted to ponderous editorial essays -on affairs of state, and to a reprint of the proceedings -of Congress on the day before. -</p> - -<p> -It was not until the two friends, lawyer and -client, were escorted by the bailiff to a magistrate's -court that they learned aught of the -charge against the accused man. What they -learned there was very little, but it furnished a -basis for further inquiry on their part. As -this is not a detective story, all that they -learned in court and by subsequent inquiry -may best be related directly, in another chapter. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap06"></a> -VI -<br /> -OUT OF A CLEAR SKY -</h3> - -<p> -On a corner of Grace Street in that part -of it which Westover had twice traversed -on the evening before, stood a -very spacious dwelling house, used at that time -as a "Select Educational Establishment for -Young Ladies." That was what the proprietor, -Monsieur Le Voiser, called it in his -circulars and the like; everybody else called it -"Le Voiser's School." -</p> - -<p> -There young women, mostly the daughters -of the well to do planters, were "finished" -after the most approved fashion. The training -they had received at the hands of their -governesses and tutors was supplemented by -certain refinements of education which were -deemed necessary to the perfection of their -minds and manners. They had already learned -to strum on the piano; here they were taught -how to do so with ease and grace and with -the air of accomplished <i>pianistes</i>. Instead of -Stephen C. Foster's melodious but idiotically -sentimental songs, which they loved, they were -trained to screech "Hear me Norma," and -other "operatic pieces," which they loathed. -More important than all, they were taught -French until they could dream in that language—bad -dreams probably, if they were in harmony -with the French in which they were -cast. -</p> - -<p> -Boyd Westover was acquainted with a dozen -or more of Monsieur Le Voiser's pupils, they -being the daughters of his neighbors and -friends. He knew the place also, having delivered -a brief course of lectures there during -the preceding year. -</p> - -<p> -About half past twelve o'clock on the night -on which he had stopped under a street lamp -to read a paper in the rain, there was an alarm -in Le Voiser's school. There were shriekings -that might have been heard a block away; -there were a few faintings, and there was a -general muster of scantily robed young women -headed by the matron of the establishment, -who was madly bent upon marching them into -the garden in spite of the pouring rain. -</p> - -<p> -The alarm had gone forth that there was -"a man in the house." One girl had imprudently -asked, "Is it a burglar?" only to bring -down the matron's wrath upon her head. -</p> - -<p> -"What does that matter to you, Mademoiselle? -As a properly brought up young lady -it is enough for you to know that he's a man. -You should be ashamed to need more than that -to alarm you." -</p> - -<p> -It was Monsieur Le Voiser's proud boast -that "French is the language of the establishment, -and no young lady attending it is permitted -to employ any other tongue." It is perhaps -an illustration of the untrustworthiness of -educational veneering, that in this time of excitement -nobody spoke a word of French, until -the intruder, who had been hiding behind a -door, slipped from his place of concealment -and made a dash for the verandah through the -French window by which he had entered. As -he did so the light of three or four bedroom -candles held high in air fell full upon him, and -half a dozen of the girls shouted in chorus: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Regardez</i> him! It's Mr. Boyd Westover!" -</p> - -<p> -The consternation which fell upon the excited -group at this announcement seemed to -afford a sufficient occasion for several interesting -attacks of hysteria, in the execution of -which one damsel made the startling announcement: -</p> - -<p> -"He came to kidnap me!" repeating it several -times. When she grew a little calmer so -that she might be questioned as to her meaning -she declared that Boyd Westover was -madly in love with her. Then, having set the -inventive machinery of her creative imagination -going, she told a romantic story interesting -to hear and perfectly delicious to tell. -</p> - -<p> -In it she figured as a heroine of romance, -beset by the passionate entreaties of a lover to -whom she found it impossible to give her love -in return, and so forth to the end of as pretty -a story of love and coldness, persuasion and -pleading, as any that Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz -or Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth ever manufactured -for the delectation of languishing Lydias. -</p> - -<p> -The girl's ambition to win interest in her -own behalf somewhat overreached itself. The -other girls were jealous of her romantic distinction -and, when they grew calm while she -got herself carried to bed, they flatly refused to -believe her story. -</p> - -<p> -But there was no room for doubt that the -intruder was Boyd Westover, or that he had -forced the fastenings of a bolted window in -gaining entrance. One girl, whose father was -a lawyer, explained that this forcing of fastenings, -however frail they might have been, -constituted the crime of burglary. -</p> - -<p> -Then somebody remembered that the intruder -had escaped and some one else ventured -the suggestion that steps ought to be taken -to apprehend him. To that end Monsieur Le -Voiser was summoned from his private residence -in the next street. After all the girls -who personally knew Boyd Westover, and all -those who had attended his course of lectures -had borne witness that the intruder was unmistakably -he, Monsieur proceeded to set the -machinery of the law in motion, with the results -already set forth. -</p> - -<p> -When Boyd, with Jack Towns as his counsel, -presented himself before the magistrate, there -was a group of Monsieur Le Voiser's pupils -there, whom Jack Towns, borrowing his text -from the circus posters, called "A bevy of -beauty and galaxy of grace." They were there -under command of their matron to testify to -the facts of the burglary and the identity of -the burglar, which they one and all did with -so much confidence that Jack Towns found it -impossible to shake their beliefs in the smallest -degree. -</p> - -<p> -Sam Anderson was there too, very reluctantly -indeed and under compulsion of a subpÅ“na. -The Commonwealth's Attorney had -somehow learned of his encounter with Westover -near the scene of the burglary under what -appeared to be suspicious circumstances. The -hotel clerk was present to testify concerning -the hour and circumstances of Westover's return -to the hotel on the night before. -</p> - -<p> -To meet all this array of testimony, Boyd -Westover had no single witness of any kind. -And if there had been any such Jack Towns -would not have put him on the stand. It was -clear that the accused young man must be -committed in any case to await the action of -the Grand Jury, and Jack Towns was much too -shrewd a lawyer to waste strength—if he had -had any strength—in this preliminary hearing. -He devoted himself instead to the task -of getting the bail fixed at as low a sum as -possible. When he pleaded that his client was -well known to be a gentleman of the best family -connections and the most scrupulous honor, -a man to whom the commission of such a crime -was utterly impossible, the magistrate reminded -him that the witnesses were young -gentlewomen of equally good families, in -whom perjury was not even conceivable; that -their number was too great and their testimony -too positive to leave room for the theory of -possible mistake; and finally that the very fact -of Boyd Westover's high place in life rendered -any crime on his part especially heinous. He -felt bound, he said, to fix bail at five thousand -dollars—a very great sum in those days. -</p> - -<p> -Within the hour, however, Boyd's friends -and those who had been friends of his father, -rallied about him, ready and eager to furnish -bonds for any amount. Not one of them knew -aught of the merits of the case, and not one of -them asked a question concerning it. They -simply did not believe that Boyd Westover -had broken by night into a girls' school for -any purpose whatever, and they were determined -that he should not go to jail while -awaiting indictment and trial on so absurd a -charge. -</p> - -<p> -"Now come with me," said Jack Towns as -soon as the matter of the bail bonds was settled. -"We'll go to my house, not to my office, -to avoid interruptions. I must get at the very -marrow of this matter before a word is said -about it. Come." -</p> - -<p> -When the two were seated in an untidy -room of Jack Towns's untidy bachelor establishment, -and Jack had locked the front door -for the first time within his recollection, he -turned to his friend, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"I want you to tell me every thing you did -last night—the unimportant things even more -than the important. Don't be afraid of boring -me with details, and relate everything in -the order in which it occurred. Then I'll cross-examine -you as rigidly as if you were a witness -concealing something. Perhaps we may -discover something to shed light upon what -seems the most perplexing mystery I ever -knew. Go on." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd told the story in minute detail, ending -it by saying: -</p> - -<p> -"I can make oath to all that and swear that -nothing else of any kind occurred." -</p> - -<p> -"No, you can't," said Jack Towns. "The -court won't let you swear to any of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Can I not make a statement of facts in a -case that involves my liberty, my reputation, -and everything else that I care for?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. The law of Virginia does not permit -an accused person to testify in his own behalf. -That is the Common Law rule, and Virginia -is under the Common Law. Don't tell -me the thing is absurd, unjust, cruel, barbaric, -and all that; for I know it already. It is the -law, and you and I cannot change it. Let us -go on with our inquiry instead. Do you know -approximately at what hour you passed Le -Voiser's school on your return from your visit -to Milhauser?" -</p> - -<p> -"I know exactly. It was precisely half-past -twelve. I saw lights carried about in the -school and, wondering at the fact, looked at -my watch to see the hour." -</p> - -<p> -"And you left Milhauser's house at what -time?" -</p> - -<p> -"Half-past ten." -</p> - -<p> -"Why did it take you so long to get back -to the hotel?" -</p> - -<p> -"Milhauser's house, as you know, is away -out of town—beyond Richmond College. -There's a horse car which runs at irregular -intervals between the college and the Broad -Street end of the Fredericksburg Railroad, -using the track of that railroad when no train -is due. When I got to the college gate it was -raining heavily and I took shelter under a sort -of shed opposite the gates to wait for the car. -It didn't come, and at last I decided to walk -on." -</p> - -<p> -"Why did you turn south and into Grace -Street, instead of coming on down Broad?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because it was raining and muddy, and the -sidewalks are better in Grace Street. Besides, -as my hotel is in Main Street I had to turn -south at some point on the journey." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, of course." -</p> - -<p> -After a period of silent thinking to no purpose, -Jack Towns said: -</p> - -<p> -"It's a queer case. All those girls swear -you were in the school a little after twelve. -Milhauser, if questioned, would have to swear -that you left his house at half-past ten. You -saw nobody else after that, who could even -suggest an alibi. You got to the hotel drenched -and dripping, at precisely the time you would -have got there if you had been chased out of -the school at the time the intruder was. You -admit that you passed the school at the time -of the disturbance. The case is so clearly made -out against you, both by the positive testimony -of eyewitnesses, and by all the circumstances, -that any jury ever empanelled would have to -convict you. Why, I'd feel bound to convict -you myself—" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean that you have the remotest -shadow of doubt as to my innocence of this -charge?" sternly demanded Westover, rising. -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly not. Don't be an idiot. Sit -down. But as the case stands we haven't a -straw to cling to. We can't impeach the testimony -of a dozen high-bred young women, -every one of whom swears positively that she -knows you well and that she saw you make -your escape from the invaded precincts. There -is no way in which we can so much as cast a -doubt upon your guilt. With the case presented -as it stands, any juror who should -hesitate to pronounce you guilty would be a -perjurer. The only hope is that we may -find some way out before the case comes to -trial." -</p> - -<p> -"When will that be?" asked Boyd Westover, -in a tone so stoically calm that Jack -Towns looked at him to see what had happened -to him. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you ill?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"No, not at all. It is only that I see the -utter hopelessness of the case. I am a man -condemned to worse than death. But I am a -<i>man</i> and must face even such calamity without -flinching. When the trial is over, I shall be -a convicted felon. It will do no good to assert -my innocence. Nobody will believe it—nobody -can, in face of the testimony. My life -is ruined, my reputation blasted, my doom -sealed. But I shall neither whine nor whimper. -Now tell me when the blow is to fall? -When will the trial occur?" -</p> - -<p> -"The court is in session now. The indictment -will be found to-morrow, but I shall secure -a postponement of the trial until the next -term." -</p> - -<p> -"Do nothing of the kind. Let the trial -come on at once—the sooner the better. Delay -will do no sort of good. I believe every -accused person is entitled to 'a speedy trial.' -Demand that for me, and secure it." -</p> - -<p> -Towns argued and pleaded, but to no purpose. -He could offer no suggestion of advantage -in delay, except by saying: -</p> - -<p> -"I have always found it worth while to trust -to the unexpected. If we have time, something -may happen that we don't anticipate." -</p> - -<p> -"And I, in the meantime?" answered Boyd. -"No. Bring the thing to a head at once. -How soon can you make it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Within forty-eight hours," answered the -lawyer. "I advise against it, but—" -</p> - -<p> -"I quite understand. The responsibility -rests upon me. Go on and make an end of the -horrible thing." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap07"></a> -VII -<br /> -IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW -</h3> - -<p> -It was the chivalric custom of the Virginians -to protect their woman-kind in all circumstances, -at all costs and at all hazards, -not only against wrong and danger, but equally -against annoyance and especially the annoyance -of publicity. Women in Virginia were -proudly feminine; men intensely and bravely -masculine. -</p> - -<p> -Accordingly the news of Boyd Westover's -case had only begun to spread abroad when all -the male relatives of all the girls in Le Voiser's -school set themselves to hurry their daughters, -sisters and nieces into secure hiding, so that -they might be spared the annoyance of appearing -in court as witnesses in a criminal case. -</p> - -<p> -Short as the time was, the officers sent to -serve summonses upon such as were wanted -found the school well nigh deserted. Some -even of those on whom they succeeded in serving -their subpÅ“nas were protectingly abducted -before the day of the trial by relatives who -braved the penalties of contempt of court in -rescue of delicately nurtured maidens dear to -them. -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless there were one or two of the -girls present in court when Boyd Westover -was called to the bar. These had been in hiding, -but their places of concealment had been -discovered and the girls themselves brought by -force to the court. Then too the matron was -there prepared to bear unhesitating witness to -Boyd's identity with the offender. -</p> - -<p> -A good deal of time was consumed in securing -a jury. The first man called declared: -</p> - -<p> -"I would not believe this charge against -Boyd Westover even if I had been present, seeing -him with my own eyes." Others expressed -their incredulity in different forms of -words but with equal positiveness, and of -course all such were rejected. It thus happened -that the jury was not completed till a -late hour in the day. But on the other hand -it took very little time for the Commonwealth's -witnesses to give their testimony, and after -one or two fruitless attempts to secure from -them an admission of doubt or possible mistake, -Jack Towns forbore to cross examine -them. -</p> - -<p> -He had no witnesses to offer in his client's -behalf. He had nothing to depend upon indeed -except a certain persuasive eloquence -which had often served him well, and this he -brought to bear with all his passionate nature -to stimulate it. He spoke for an hour. He -argued, pleaded, persuaded. He set forth the -character of his client and of the distinguished -family from which he was sprung. He dwelt -upon the utter improbability of the commission -of such a crime by such a man. He -pointed out and emphasized the fact that a -girls' school was not the place that any housebreaker -in his senses would think of entering -in search of booty. He ended with an impassioned -setting forth of the ruin and disgrace -that must fall upon this high-charactered -young man as the result of an adverse verdict. -So eloquently and so pathetically did he present -the pitiful aspect of the matter that tears -ran down scores of cheeks, and the Judge himself -bowed his head upon the desk in front of -the bench, as if to conceal an emotion he could -not control. -</p> - -<p> -The Commonwealth's Attorney—the prosecuting -officer—rose, but instead of making -the usual speech, simply said, in a voice choked -with sobs: -</p> - -<p> -"The testimony is before you, gentlemen of -the jury. I have nothing to add to it." -</p> - -<p> -There was but one result possible. Ten -minutes after the jury retired, it filed into -court again bearing a verdict of "Guilty." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd Westover was a convicted felon. The -sun of his fair young life had gone down amid -clouds of black disgrace, and it could know no -rising. Worse than death a thousand fold, -worse than the cruelest torture was this to a -proudly sensitive nature, nurtured in traditions -of honor that held every slightest character -stain to be an indelible blot. -</p> - -<p> -Yet it was with head erect, with dry eyes, -with unshaken nerves and unflinching spirit -that he met this decree of doom. It was the -tradition of his race to meet Fate without faltering, -to fight while the possibility of fighting -lasted, and when it failed, to shroud an undaunted -soul in the chain mail of unconquerable -courage. -</p> - -<p> -When the verdict was rendered, the young -man turned to his friend and counsellor, and -in an entirely unemotional voice, said: -</p> - -<p> -"I thank you sincerely for all you have -done and tried to do. I have need of a little -time in which to arrange my affairs. Can -you do me a final favor by securing it for -me?" -</p> - -<p> -The matter was easily arranged. The Judge, -full of compassion for the ruined youth, and -in spite of reason, testimony, and everything -else, still not believing in Boyd Westover's -guilt, asked if ten days would suffice. Then -without renewing the bail bonds that had expired -with the beginning of the trial, he appointed -the tenth day thereafter for sentence. -It was the Commonwealth's Attorney's business -to move for the renewal of the bonds, -without which the condemned man was in fact -under no restraint whatever, but he made no -motion of the kind. When asked by Jack -Towns some time afterwards why he had not -done his duty in that respect, he replied: -</p> - -<p> -"I simply couldn't. Boyd Westover and I -were schoolmates, you know, and I lived for -many months in his father's house. I <i>knew</i> he -wouldn't run away. Who ever heard of a -Westover flinching? Why should I subject -him to an indignity?" -</p> - -<p> -Thus, in Virginia, did character—personal -and inherited—count. There were some -things that a gentleman could not do. He -might commit a crime of violence, but he could -not do a cowardly or treacherous act. The -bailiff who had trusted Boyd Westover's word -of honor, knew that and risked the loss of his -place upon his confidence in it. The Commonwealth's -Attorney knew it and took the chance -of impeachment upon it. -</p> - -<p> -The net result was that on the day of his -conviction Boyd Westover walked out of -court an absolutely free man except in so far -as he was bound by his own sense of honor -and by the traditions of the race from which -he was sprung. These bound him to appear -in court for sentence at the end of the ten days -allowed to him, and as everybody knew, the -bond was amply sufficient. -</p> - -<p> -Jack Towns took him in the meanwhile to -his own house. -</p> - -<p> -"You'll be my guest," he said, "and I'll -see that we aren't interrupted." -</p> - -<p> -"You still don't mind that?" Boyd asked. -</p> - -<p> -For response he got an earnest look in the -eyes, and the verbal answer: -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be a fool, Boyd." -</p> - -<p> -After a minute, Boyd asked, reflectively: -</p> - -<p> -"How is it, Jack, that you and some others -seem still to believe in me? In view of the -evidence—" -</p> - -<p> -"Hang the evidence," interrupted the lawyer. -"Don't you know that character is the -most important and the most trustworthy fact -in life? You don't suppose for a moment that -I have a doubt in your case, do you? If -you do, you grievously wrong my friendship." -</p> - -<p> -"How then do you account for the facts as -set forth in the testimony against me?" -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean, Boyd? Are you trying -to convince me that you are guilty of a -crime that I know to be utterly impossible to -you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. I am only trying to find out the -grounds of your confidence in me, so that I -may know how far to impose on them in making -my arrangements for the future. That's -the purport of my question, which, by the way, -you haven't answered yet." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh well, as to that, you're the victim of -some hideous mistake. If you had let me stave -off your trial for six months the chances are we -should have found out what the mistake is. -As it is—" -</p> - -<p> -"As it is, I couldn't have lived for six -months in such suspense as that. Neither -could you, in like case. We're the sort of men -who say to the lightning, 'Strike if you will, -but don't prolong your threats.' Besides, I -cannot see how this thing could have been -bettered by delay. Those girls honestly believe -they recognized me as an intruder in the school. -They would believe that quite as firmly six -months hence as now." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps so. But six months hence not one -of them would have been in Virginia to testify -against you. Their friends would have taken -care of that." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know. And I should have been suspected -of securing my acquittal by spiriting -away the witnesses against me. I couldn't live -under so black a shadow as that." -</p> - -<p> -"I understand. But all this is profitless. -We have much to do to get your affairs in -order. Let us address ourselves to that. First -of all I've had all your mail sent up here from -the hotel. Suppose you read it now, and after -supper we'll set to work." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap08"></a> -VIII -<br /> -THE SHADOWS FALL -</h3> - -<p> -When the shadows begin to fall upon -a human life, they fall quickly and -darkly. -</p> - -<p> -In Boyd Westover's mail was a letter from -the agent who had arranged the mortgage -loan upon Wanalah plantation, threatening to -abandon the arrangement on the ground that -young Westover's conviction impaired the security. -This sorely troubled Boyd Westover—for -if he was to go to prison his mother's -financial ease was a matter of primary concern -to him. It didn't trouble Jack Towns in the -least. -</p> - -<p> -"Leave that to me for answer," the lawyer -said, taking possession of the letter. "The -man ought to seek employment as an oyster-opener -at Rockett's. That's about his size. -That mortgage is completely executed. I've -seen to it, pending—other things. That will -stand, and, as the property is amply good for -it, the fellow's an idiot to want to fly his bargain." -</p> - -<p> -There was news in the next mail that could -not be so lightly dismissed. The family physician -wrote that Boyd's mother, already in -feeble and precarious health, had been shocked -by the tidings of her son's calamity into a condition -that threatened the worst. This calamity -was one which even Boyd Westover's stoicism -could not face without flinching. From -childhood his affection for his mother had been -a dominant passion, and since his father's death -it had become fatherly as well as filial. He -had jealously guarded that "little mother," as -he called her, against every shock, every care, -every breath of an adverse wind as it were. -He had made a veritable pet of her, and while -never for a moment laying aside his chivalric -respect and reverence, he had added to them -a certain big brotherly manner in which she -had found joy untellable. If she wearied while -walking with him in the house grounds, he -would pick her up, as he might have done with -any child, and in spite of her laughing protests, -carry her into the porch and deposit her -in a hammock. If a light shone disagreeably -in her eyes he discovered it and shut it off -before she became conscious of its glare. If -she went to her room to rest he quietly stationed -a maid at the foot of the stairs with -orders to permit no noise and no passing up or -down. -</p> - -<p> -Now that news came of this dearly loved little -mother's serious illness, the young man was -made to suffer agonies by the consciousness -that her affliction was on his account, so that -it required all of Jack Towns's eloquence to -convince him that he was himself in nowise to -blame for it. By way of emphasizing that, -the young lawyer had to put the matter into -brutally plain phrase. -</p> - -<p> -"If you were guilty of the crime of which -you have been convicted, and for which you -will have to serve a term in state's prison, you -would do well to scourge your soul with a -whip of scorpions for your sin against the -mother who bore you. As you are innocent -of that and of all other crimes you have no -right to hold yourself responsible for the consequences -of other people's mistakes." -</p> - -<p> -"Am I free to go to my mother while she -yet lives?" Boyd asked in an agony of apprehension. -</p> - -<p> -Then Jack Towns lied—like the generous -gentleman he was. -</p> - -<p> -"No," he said. "Legally you are free to -go anywhere you please—to Mozambique or -the dominions of Mumbo Jumbo if you choose. -But you are free only because of the generous -confidence of the Judge and the Commonwealth's -Attorney in your honor as a gentleman. -You are bound by that honor not to -leave Richmond during the days granted -you." -</p> - -<p> -As a matter of fact Jack Towns had in his -possession a letter addressed to him by the -Westover family physician in which were -written these words: -</p> - -<p> -"Whatever else happens, for heaven's sake -don't let Boyd come home now. The shock -of seeing him would kill his mother out of -hand." -</p> - -<p> -But Jack Towns was a lawyer and he found -a better way of putting the matter by way of -accomplishing his purpose. -</p> - -<p> -Still another thing darkened the young -man's way. It was not because of news, but -because of no news at all. -</p> - -<p> -There was no line in any of his mails from -Margaret Conway, the woman he loved with -all his soul, the woman who had plighted her -troth to him in the impassioned words he so -well remembered: -</p> - -<p> -"I am not a woman to love lightly or lightly -to forget. Love seems to me a holy thing, and -to trifle with it a blasphemy. I have given you -my love, Boyd, and there is no power in all the -universe that can make me take it back. Even -you could not do that. Nothing you might -do—even if it were crime itself—could alter -the fact that my love is all yours, now and -forever." -</p> - -<p> -Upon reflection, he absolved Margaret from -blame, and with good reason. Upon his first -accusation he had not written to her at all in -supplement to the love letter of that night. -He had regarded the whole matter as a thing -preposterous, which a hearing in the magistrate's -court would promptly dissipate into thin -air, and it had been his kindly thought not to -tell her of the absurd accusation until he could -tell her also of the ridiculous end made of it -at a court hearing. When at last the matter -had assumed a serious aspect he had written -her a letter in which he had asserted his innocence -but without protesting it in any impassioned -way. To that he had added: -</p> - -<p> -"Of course if I am a man of honor I am -bound to offer you a release from the engagement -between us, while if I am not an honorable -man but the criminal I am accused of being, -you are free to take your release without -permission from me." -</p> - -<p> -A calculation showed that if that letter had -reached its destination when it should, and if -an answer had been sent by the first returning -mail, he should now have the reply. But mails -were slow and uncertain in those days and The -Oaks lay far up near the Blue Ridge and seven -miles from the post office. It might easily have -happened that his letter to Margaret had not -reached her as soon as it should; or that the -shock of it might have unfitted her to reply -immediately; or that her answer might have -been delayed in transmission. All these were -possibilities, and they comforted the young -man. -</p> - -<p> -But as the days went by and still no letter -came from Margaret the comfort became less -and less, until at last he despaired and summoned -his stoicism to his relief. -</p> - -<p> -"Why should I have expected her to write -to me?" he asked himself. "What obligation -can she owe to a convicted criminal? I was -a fool to look for a letter. I must bear my -burden alone. I must meet my fate with a -calm mind." -</p> - -<p> -Then another thought came to him. -</p> - -<p> -"I am living in a fool's paradise. Jack -Towns professes still to believe in me, and -perhaps he does. But how can I expect anybody -else to do so? In view of the testimony -against me, there is no room or reason for -doubt of my guilt in any sane mind. I must -recognize that and face it with what courage -I can. I am a convicted criminal, and I must -expect everybody to regard me as such. I -must go through my life with that brand upon -my brow. There is an end of hope for me. -I must simply endure." -</p> - -<p> -It was characteristic of him that in all this -melancholy meditation, no thought of suicide -entered his mind. He had from his youth up -held his life in readiness for sacrifice in any -worthy behalf. There was never a time when -he would not have given it as a forfeit in behalf -of those he loved, never a time when he -would not have laid it down gladly in answer -to any call of duty. But the cowardly thought -of destroying it by way of himself escaping -from intolerable sufferings did not suggest itself -to his brave young soul. It is a man's -part to endure what comes to a man, and Boyd -Westover was altogether a man. -</p> - -<p> -He remembered Margaret's impassioned -promise, and he doubted not the sincerity of -her soul in giving it. But he absolved her -now and accepted the result as part and parcel -of the strangely bewildering Fate that had -overtaken him. -</p> - -<p> -To that effect he wrote to her on the night -before the day appointed for his sentencing. -On that day had come to him the crushing -news of his mother's death, and very bitterly -he had felt the cruelty of a fate that forbade -him even to go home to bury his dead. -</p> - -<p> -He wrote to Margaret: -</p> - -<p> -"I find that I have been expecting some -letter from you in reply to my late one. I -realize that I had neither right nor reason to -expect anything of the kind. I am a convicted -criminal, convicted upon testimony so conclusive -that no sane person can doubt its truth. -To-morrow morning I shall be sentenced. -You can have no relations with me. You can -bear me no duty of any kind. It is only to -say this that I write to you now, to say that I -hold you absolved from any and all obligations -toward me, and that I shall live and die cherishing -in full measure my faith in your loyalty -and truth. You are never to let a doubt of -that vex your mind." -</p> - -<p> -With that he finally banished all thought of -his past life, its joys, its sorrows, its aspirations -and its apprehensions, from his mind. -</p> - -<p> -"How long a sentence will they give me, -Jack?" he asked his lawyer. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. The shortest, probably, or -very nearly the shortest that the law allows; -not over two years at any rate." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course it doesn't matter," Boyd answered. -"Two minutes or two years of shame -are all one to a sensitive man, and as for the -'hard labor,' I'm strong and well. I probably -shall not find it interesting to grind stove lids -or do whatever else the prison authorities set -me at, but at any rate the work will occupy the -time and prevent me from thinking too deeply. -It will tire me, too, so that I shall sleep of -nights." -</p> - -<p> -Jack Towns found nothing to say by way of -reply, and he said nothing. Presently Boyd -drew a package of papers from his pocket and -passed it over to the man he regarded as the -one friend left him in all the world now. -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps you'd better look into that," he -said. "It may help Wanalah out of difficulty. -I don't know. The thing came in my mail a -week ago, but it didn't interest me then and -I slipped it into my pocket and forgot all about -it. No, don't bother with it now. Read it -later. Just now I have something else to talk -to you about. You've promised to look after -my affairs while I'm in prison, and there's one -thing I want to ask you. Don't let the overseer -at Wanalah work the servants too hard. -There is no need. With only ordinary crops -the plantation can easily carry its load now, -and I don't want the people there overworked. -See to it please. Now if you don't mind, I'm -going to bed. To-morrow night I'll lie in a -cell." -</p> - -<p> -With that the young man withdrew, and -after half an hour of sad gazing at the moonlight -that streamed in through the window, -Jack Towns turned up the gas and set to work -reading the papers that had failed to interest -their owner. They interested Jack Towns -amazingly, and he had no sooner finished the -reading of them than he hurried unceremoniously -into Boyd's room, and shaking him said: -</p> - -<p> -"Here, get up. This thing must be attended -to immediately. There are papers to -be drawn and executed at once. So hustle into -some clothes quick." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap09"></a> -IX -<br /> -THE COURAGE OF WOMANHOOD -</h3> - -<p> -When rumors came to The Oaks of -Boyd Westover's trouble, Margaret -Conway's first impulse was to drive -over to Wanalah and comfort Boyd's mother -with assurances that there could be no truth in -the reports. Margaret had always cherished a -very tender affection for Mrs. Westover, and -during the brief time since her love had been -pledged to Boyd, she had found that affection -rapidly taking upon itself the character of a -girl's tenderness for her mother. Having -never known a mother of her own, the girl -was quick to make herself a daughter in affection -where she was presently to become a -daughter in law and in fact. She drove every -day to Wanalah and spent loving hours there -with the gentle invalid who had so warmly -welcomed her daughterly love. -</p> - -<p> -But when the evil news of Boyd's conviction -came and Margaret planned to go earlier -than usual to Wanalah, Colonel Conway objected. -</p> - -<p> -"You will only distress yourself and afflict -her," he said. "This thing will be your only -topic of conversation, and what can either of -you say that will bring comfort to the other?" -</p> - -<p> -"I can tell her I love her and that I loyally -believe in Boyd," answered the girl with all -the pride of her race in her voice and attitude. -</p> - -<p> -"But how can you say that, daughter, in -face of the evidence?" -</p> - -<p> -"It isn't evidence—it's merely testimony. -The evidence lies in Boyd Westover's character -and it flatly contradicts the testimony. The -testimony is false; the evidence is subject to -no possible question. I'm sorry you don't see -it so, Father." -</p> - -<p> -The old man paced the floor for a space and -then answered: -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps I do see it so. I'd like to, at any -rate; I'm strongly disposed to give the young -man the benefit of the doubt, but—" -</p> - -<p> -"There isn't any doubt," interjected the -passionate girl with vehemence. "There isn't -any doubt, and I shall quarrel even with you, -Father, if you suggest such a thing." -</p> - -<p> -"Be calm, my child," pleaded the old man -placatively. "Perhaps you are right. I'm disposed -to take your view—strongly so. But -there's your Aunt Betsy, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know. She's the only human being -you were ever afraid of, Father. But you're -afraid of her as everybody else is—everybody -but me. I don't know why." -</p> - -<p> -"But your Aunt Betsy presents the matter -in a way that must be considered. She -says—" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I know what she says," interrupted the -overwrought girl. "She has said it all to me, -over and over again. She urges the conventions—the -cowardly shams and falsities of -our artificial life. She talks of 'what people -will say,' as if it made any difference what -people say when we know we are doing right. -You <i>know</i> that Boyd Westover is an honorable -man, just as I know it. If you hadn't been -afraid of Aunt Betsy, you'd have done your -duty like a man; you'd have gone to Boyd's -side. You'd have stood by him in his hour -of need—" -</p> - -<p> -"But, Margaret, what good would that have -done in face of the evidence or the testimony, -for I agree with you that there's a difference?" -</p> - -<p> -"It would have strengthened and encouraged -him with the assurance that one brave -man at least knew his character and was ready -to face calumny with an assertion of his confidence. -But you were afraid of Aunt Betsy. -It is the only cowardice I ever knew you to be -guilty of. She talks of placing 'blots on our -escutcheon'—as if we had an escutcheon, -whatever that sort of thing may be; I tell you -the worst blot of all was made by your failure -to go to Richmond and stand by Boyd in his -undeserved trouble. You played the part of a -coward there. Pardon me if my words are -harsh. I feel them and mean them. Now I -am going to Wanalah. I, at least, will do my -part as a descendant of a brave race, if all the -demons of perdition stand in the way." -</p> - -<p> -With that the girl moved proudly out of the -house, mounted the horse that a negro held -waiting for her, and rode away. -</p> - -<p> -She did not return until after the funeral at -Wanalah, which her father and her aunt attended, -and when she returned, her attitude -was one of stately reserve which appalled her -father and "grieved" her aunt. -</p> - -<p> -In the meanwhile she had written every day -a loyal letter to Boyd Westover. -</p> - -<p> -Not one of those letters ever reached him. -Nor did any of his letters come to her. Aunt -Betsy had deemed it her "duty to the family" -to see to that, and Aunt Betsy prided herself -upon doing her duty, no matter how disagreeable -it might be—to others. -</p> - -<p> -But the failure of the missives left Margaret -in sorely distressing perplexity. Why did not -Boyd write to her? Why did he not take her -into his confidence? Especially why did he not -respond, in some way, to her repeated avowals -of splendid loyalty and confidence? -</p> - -<p> -She could not understand. She could not -even inquire. She could only mourn. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap10"></a> -X -<br /> -THE PACKET OF PAPERS -</h3> - -<p> -Jack Towns was accustomed to have -about him whatever there was that could -make his hard-working life comfortable, -if any reasonable expenditure of money could -secure it. And he interpreted the words -"reasonable expenditure," in that connection, -rather liberally. His income was large and he -had nobody anywhere dependent upon him. -Accordingly he was one of the two or three -self-indulgent men in Richmond at that time, -who possessed a set bath tub with water taps -running into it and a showering apparatus -above. -</p> - -<p> -When he roused his friend that night, after -hurriedly running through the packet of papers, -he was full of an eagerness and enthusiasm -which the other did not seem to share. -Boyd Westover was sleepy, and worse still, in -his present case, he was indifferent. What -good could a packet of papers or anything else -bring to a man disgraced, condemned, doomed -to a life of lost repute? He heartily wished -that Jack had kept the papers and done whatever -he pleased with them after the closing of -the prison doors behind himself on the approaching -day. But in response to Jack's insistence, -he arose, drew on a light dressing -gown and slippers, and offered his dully uninterested -presence in Jack's dining room. -4 -Promptly recognizing his condition of mind, -Jack took matters into his own hands, after a -masterful habit he had. He seized Boyd by -the elbow and led him into the bath room. -</p> - -<p> -"There," he said; "lay off your gown and -pull your toes out of those slippers. Hop into -the tub and I'll wake you up." -</p> - -<p> -At the next instant the cold shower descended -upon the young man's head and person, -and Jack continued his chatter. -</p> - -<p> -"Now you're awake, rub yourself down and -come into the dining room. I've got to have -you awake and you and I are going to work -all night. I've sent Dick for half a hundred -oysters and a dozen bottles of cold ale, and -later he'll make black coffee for us. Hurry up -now, and 'do try to be interested' as a bashful -friend of mine said to a girl when he was -about to propose to her." -</p> - -<p> -As he left the bath room abruptly, Boyd -made no reply until he joined the lawyer in the -dining room where the papers from the packet -lay spread out in the order in which they were -to be taken up for consideration. Then he -said: -</p> - -<p> -"I will try to be interested, Jack; for your -sake I'll do my best. But what interest can -a man in my position feel in anything?" -</p> - -<p> -"Now listen to me, Boyd!" Jack Towns -said commandingly, and rising to his feet to -say it. "Listen to me. You are morbid. You -need calomel or something. You're the victim -of some mistake and you're in sore trouble. -But you are not disgraced. Nobody can -disgrace a man but the man himself. You -are conscious of your own honor; what matters -it what others think? Besides, no honest -man in Virginia believes that you are -guilty of a sneaking crime or capable of it. -The jury that convicted you didn't believe it -and not one of them believes it now. The -Judge who will sentence you doesn't believe it. -If the envious and malignant falsely pretend -to believe it, why should you care for the despicable -pretense of people so utterly unworthy? -If cowards fight shy of your acquaintance, -lest recognition of you should compromise -themselves, why should you care for the -acquaintance of such poltroons? You are -Westover of Wanalah—inheritor of an honorable -name. You will be that so long as you -shall live. It behoves you to bear that name -with head erect and with contempt alone for -those who do not recognize your worthiness -to bear it. This affair is an unfortunate incident. -It will soon be over, and you will have -a lifetime before you in which to teach men -the falsity of the accusation against you. -There. My lecture is done. Let us get to -these papers. They hold great news for you." -</p> - -<p> -When the two were seated, Jack took up a -letter, which was first of the papers in the -order of consideration. -</p> - -<p> -"This is from a firm of lawyers, Dodge, -Denslow and Deming of Denver—charmingly -alliterative throughout—do you happen -to know who they are?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, in a way. There was a memorandum -among my father's papers, that mentioned -them." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, go on. What did it say, or reveal, -or suggest? This is business, Boyd. Put -your thinking machine on it." -</p> - -<p> -"I will,—to oblige you, Jack. The memorandum -catalogued a long list of mining lands -and mining claims somewhere up in the Rocky -Mountains or in some side issue of a range—you'll -find the paper in my desk at home—lands -and claims which my father had bought -during one of his journeys out that way and -had placed in my name, as a provision for me -in case of accident." -</p> - -<p> -"That accounts for these papers being in -your name and not your father's," interrupted -Jack. "I was puzzled by that. But go on. -I want to hear all about it." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you know my father was an optimist—a -dreamer almost—and he was possessed -of an idea, reflected in the memorandum, that -these things would make the future Westover -of Wanalah—myself or my son if I should -have one—enormously rich. As nearly as I -could make out, the multitudinous lands and -mining claims he bought in my name covered -a large area of entirely untillable and not very -accessible land somewhere up in the high -mountains, where grub-staked miners scratched -the surface for silver ore, with now and then -a little find of gold. They worked on shares -somehow, and this law firm collected my share -from time to time and remitted it. It was so -small a part of the assets of the estate that I've -forgotten how much it was. That's all I know -of Dodge, Denslow & Deming." -</p> - -<p> -"You're likely to know a good deal more -about them hereafter," said Jack, "if I can -awaken in your mind a reasonable interest in -a matter that promises to make you the richest -man in Virginia, twice or thrice over." -</p> - -<p> -"Cui bono?" responded Boyd. "When my -prison term ends I shall have enough, without -that, to feed me, and I've nobody else to -feed." -</p> - -<p> -"Boyd Westover, if you go on in that mood, -I'll chuck you into the bath tub again and set -the shower going without giving you a chance -to shed your clothes. Can't you see that when -you—when—well, when present difficulties -are over, this thing will give you an interest -in life, something to occupy your mind, something -to manage and—oh, I forgot, you don't -know the facts yet. It appears from these -papers—we won't bother now to read them -in detail—that the mining lands your father -bought in your name, have proved to be about -the richest in the world. They cover practically -all of one of the richest deposits of gold, -silver, lead, and quicksilver, ever discovered. -Listen. This is the way Jake Greenfield puts -it in a letter. Jake seems to be a shrewd Yankee -whom your lawyers have established on -the lands to watch operations and prevent trespass. -He writes to the lawyers: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"'I don't s'pose Mr. Westover nor you -neither's got a krect idee of what he's got up -here. It's like an injun's blanket, with fringes -all round it. He's got the blanket an' these -fellers what's opened up mines north an' south -of him has got the fringes. Nachurly they's -a tryin' to git in under the blanket, but I'm a -watchin' out an' they're a doin' no trespassin'. -They's got the fence corners an' Mr. Weststover's -got the field. They's plannin' to buy -him out an' they's got experts an' engineers an' -lawyers enuff here to run a ship or an orphan -asylum. My say to Mr. West Stover is don't -bargain with 'em till you know for yourself. -That used to be our way in Varmont, whare I -come from. This is my wink to a blind hoss, -an' a nod with it.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"The lawyers seem to have taken Jake -Greenfield's counsel seriously, so far at least -as to send experts of their own to study the -situation, and these seem to confirm Jake's -judgment. So do these other letters, from the -mining men who want to buy you out. I'll -read them." -</p> - -<p> -"Can't you summarize them in your own -words, Jack?" interrupted Boyd. "The thing -doesn't greatly interest me, and—" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, listen then, and perhaps I can -awaken your interest. These people it appears -are amply backed by New York and Boston -bankers. In fact the bankers really constitute -the company, and they seem to know their own -minds. They have spent some hundreds of -thousands in setting up machinery and all that -sort of thing, and they say their mining operations -are paying heavy dividends—twenty-five -or thirty per cent. on their investment. -But the richest leads or lodes or veins or whatever -they are called, lie beneath your land. -You've got the blanket and they only the -fringe, as Jake picturesquely puts it. They -want to buy the blanket, or get in under it -somehow, and they're prepared to pay for what -they want. They propose to organize a new -company to work the whole thing; they to -put in their plant, their costly machinery, their -mining privileges and all their other assets, and -you to put in your mineral lands. They make -you a flat offer of nine hundred thousand dollars -in money, and thirty-nine per cent. of the -stock of the new company, if you will join -them in this project by ceding your lands, mining -rights, etc., to the joint concern. Perhaps -they can be induced to do better even than -that, as they seem very eager, but that is what -they offer to begin with. It means fabulous -wealth to you if their hopes as to the profits -of the new company are measurably fulfilled, -and even if they are not fulfilled at all it means -that you can wear Wanalah plantation as a -watch charm for all your life to come. Isn't -that a fine prospect?" -</p> - -<p> -Jack was disappointed in Boyd's reply. He -had hoped that this startling happening might -awaken his friend to a new interest in life and -life's affairs, but, after swallowing two oysters -and slowly sipping half a glass of ale, the -unfortunate young man said, in a melancholy -tone: -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose the thing ought to be looked -into. If I were a free man again, I'd make -my way out into those wilds and see what -could be done. As it is—" -</p> - -<p> -"As it is," broke in Jack Towns, "you're -going to execute a sweeping power of attorney -authorizing me to act for you, and I'm going -out there. When you—well, I mean later,—you'll -take hold of the thing yourself, and those -hustling fellows out there will wake you up, -if I can't. Go to bed now, if you feel like it. -I'll prepare the power of attorney and you can -execute it at breakfast time. I must say you're -uncommonly bad company." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose I am," said Boyd as he shuffled -off to his bedroom. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap11"></a> -XI -<br /> -THE EVENTS OF A MORNING -</h3> - -<p> -It was with a firm step and with head erect, -and, more significant still, with eyes that -looked straight into other eyes without a -suggestion of flinching, that Boyd Westover -entered the court room on the morning appointed -for the pronouncement of sentence -upon him. Jack Towns, who accompanied -him, thought he had never seen so superb an -exhibition of stoicism as that which Boyd had -given throughout this affair. -</p> - -<p> -"But this caps the climax," he said to the -Commonwealth's Attorney, whose drawn features -showed clearly the distress he felt in view -of the duty he had to do in moving that sentence -be pronounced upon his old schoolmate, -his boyhood's comrade, whom he had been -compelled to prosecute and convict of an infamous -crime. -</p> - -<p> -"Just look at him," Jack whispered. "For -all that his appearance or his manner could -mean you'd think he had come here to deliver -an oration on some distinguished occasion. -It's simply magnificent!" -</p> - -<p> -"It is simply horrible—my part of it, I -mean," answered the other with a suppressed -groan. -</p> - -<p> -There was no further time for conversation. -The moment had come when Boyd Westover -must be called to the bar to receive the sentence -of the court. The Commonwealth's Attorney -made the necessary motion in a voice -that could hardly be heard because of his lack -of control over his organs of speech. The -Judge tried hard to deliver the little address -he had carefully prepared as a means of suggesting -what he could not say—that in spite -of everything he could not personally regard -Boyd Westover as a man actually guilty of -crime. His voice behaved so badly that after -a futile attempt he gave up the effort to say -anything, except the formal words that condemned -the prisoner to serve a term at hard -labor in the State prison. -</p> - -<p> -The term fixed by the sentence was the shortest -that the law allowed, but what comfort was -there in that to a sensitive man like Boyd Westover, -to whom disgrace for half a minute -meant the same thing as disgrace for all time? -It is doubtful that he even grasped the meaning -of the words used in limiting the sentence -to the briefest time allowed. -</p> - -<p> -As there were papers to be made out and -signed, Jack Towns and his client sat for a -brief while waiting. Presently there was a -little commotion in the outer corridor and a -moment later a bailiff hurriedly entered and -made his way to the Commonwealth's Attorney, -to whom he whispered excitedly. That -officer asked a brief question or two under his -breath. Then he turned to the court and said, -while all listened with the greatest interest: -</p> - -<p> -"If your honor please, something has happened—something -out of the ordinary, something -important, something which if I am correctly -informed vitally concerns business now -before the court. I ask to be excused for a -few minutes in order that I may learn the facts -and report them to the court." -</p> - -<p> -With that, receiving a nod of approval from -the Judge, he withdrew. -</p> - -<p> -When he had gone the Judge said: -</p> - -<p> -"We may as well save what we can of the -time of waiting. Mr. Clerk, if you have the -papers ready in the Westover case I'll sign -them." -</p> - -<p> -They were passed to him and, after he had -signed them, handed over to the sheriff, thus -completing that matter at once. -</p> - -<p> -A moment later, the Commonwealth's Attorney -returned, pale to the lips, trembling like -one in an ague fit, and with the muscles about -his mouth twitching in a way that was positively -painful to all who looked at him. -</p> - -<p> -In a voice that was hard, metallic, and obviously -controlled only by a supreme effort of -the will, he addressed the court. -</p> - -<p> -"There has been a terrible mistake made," -he said with none of the formalities of speech -usual in addressing a tribunal,—"a disastrous, -cruel, irreparable mistake, for my share -in which I hide my head in shame as I ask God -and man to pardon me. In convicting and -sentencing Boyd Westover, we have convicted -and sentenced an innocent man. The real culprit -is now in a jury room adjoining this apartment. -He has been caught in a repetition of -the act for which Boyd Westover has been -convicted and sentenced. He has confessed -that he was the offender on the former occasion, -and the committing magistrate before -whom he was brought this morning has -brought him hither to repeat his confession -and to let your honor look upon him. It is -the most phenomenal case of mistaken identity -I ever knew or heard of. Even fiction, with -its limitless license of invention, offers no parallel -that I ever heard of. The resemblance -between this man and Boyd Westover is so -perfect, so startling in its completeness that I -could never have believed it upon any testimony -other than that of my own eyes. I ask -permission to bring the prisoner into court." -</p> - -<p> -By this time the court room was packed with -all sorts and conditions of men, for the news -of what had happened during the night before -had spread like wildfire over the city. -</p> - -<p> -A minute later the prisoner, who gave his -name as "Dolly Andrews," but admitted that -"Dolly" was short for Adolphus, was brought -to the bar. At the Commonwealth's Attorney's -request, Boyd Westover moved forward -and stood by his side. -</p> - -<p> -The two men were precisely alike in size, -form and feature, but strangely unlike in expression. -As Jack Towns put the matter: -"Boyd Westover, being a gentleman, looks -into your eyes when he speaks to you or you -to him; the other fellow looks anywhere but -at you. In the one face there is intelligence,—in -the other a low cunning; in the one an alert -outlook, in the other a look of morbid introspection. -Still the two men are absolutely -alike in all physical respects—more alike than -I supposed that even twins could be. I could -myself easily mistake one for the other, and I -don't wonder that a lot of excited school girls, -routed out of bed in the middle of the night -and with only bedroom candles to see by, made -the terrible mistake they did." -</p> - -<p> -The problem now was what to do. Fortunately -the committing magistrate was a man of -wise discretion. He presented himself in court -and said to the Judge: -</p> - -<p> -"I have not yet committed this man, though -he was caught in the act and has made full -confession, both as to his present offence and -as to the former crime, of which another has -been mistakenly convicted. I have thought it -better to bring him before your honor and ask -you to sit as committing magistrate in the case, -in order that you may yourself hear his confession. -It has seemed to me that this course -was best in aid of justice in another case." -</p> - -<p> -After an exchange of dignified compliments, -the Judge, sitting as a committing magistrate, -heard the case. During the preceding night -there had been an alarm of "burglars" in Le -Voiser's school. As before, the matron marshalled -her charges for retreat, but this time -there were two stalwart men on the premises -and awaiting call. Monsieur Le Voiser had -looked out for that, by ordering his furnace -man and his steward to sleep in a room within -convenient call, and when the intruder attempted -to escape they were there to seize and -hold him by physical force. -</p> - -<p> -They testified to the facts. -</p> - -<p> -Then the culprit repeated the confession he -had already made. He seemed in no way -ashamed, and he did not hesitate. He declared -that it was he, and not Boyd Westover, who -had invaded the school on the former occasion, -and when asked what his motive was, he disclaimed -all purposes of robbery and sought to -justify himself by the solemn declaration: -</p> - -<p> -"On both occasions I went there under the -command of the Supreme Being." -</p> - -<p> -"Just what do you mean by that?" asked -the Judge, testily. -</p> - -<p> -"I am divinely commissioned to marry -Miss—" -</p> - -<p> -"Stop!" commanded the Judge. "Don't -mention the young lady's name. Just say 'a -certain young lady.' We won't have her name -dragged into the case." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well," said the culprit. "It is only -that I am acting under a divine commission and -have nothing to conceal. I must marry the -young lady in question. I met her in the street -once, and talked to her on the subject. She -mistook me for Boyd Westover, and I thought -it best to use that name in my dealings with -her. You see, Judge, when one is divinely -commissioned to achieve a purpose, details -make no difference." -</p> - -<p> -"Go on," said the Judge; "omit explanations -and arguments, and tell what happened." -</p> - -<p> -"The young lady rejected my addresses. -I was not discouraged by that. I had been -divinely warned to expect it. I wrote her -many notes, but she did not reply to them. -Then I saw my duty clearly. I decided to use -gentle force and carry her away with me, -leaving the divine influence to chasten her -proud spirit and teach her the duty of loving -me. I have been twice defeated in my endeavors. -I shall succeed when the appointed time -is ripe. I must be patient and faithful, that is -all." -</p> - -<p> -"After all," whispered Jack Towns to the -Commonwealth's Attorney, "that hysterical -girl who said he had come to abduct her was -right, except in her identification of the man." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but the exception is one of disastrous -consequences. Help me, Towns, to right this -wrong! I'll never do the like again. I'll -never prosecute another case so long as I live. -I've already sent in my resignation from office." -</p> - -<p> -"You're a sublimated idiot," said Jack. -"Listen. The Judge is speaking." -</p> - -<p> -"I will commit this man to await the action -of the Grand Jury," the Judge said. "In the -meanwhile the Court suggests to the Commonwealth's -Attorney the propriety of asking for -a commission in lunacy to inquire into this -man's sanity." -</p> - -<p> -Thus spurred out of the lethargic collapse -into which he had fallen, the official prosecutor -made the necessary motion and the court -promptly appointed the commission. -</p> - -<p> -Then Jack Towns arose to ask: -</p> - -<p> -"What is to be done to right the wrong in -the case of my client? And more especially, -what is to be done to prevent the aggravation -of that wrong? I call attention to the fact -that the papers committing this obviously innocent -man to the penitentiary are already in -the hands of the sheriff, who has no right to -exercise discretion in the case. In the ordinary -course of events my client, innocent of offence -as he obviously is, must pass the portals of the -prison within the hour. I ask the court to prevent -this crowning wrong in a case in which -enough and too much of wrong has been done -already." -</p> - -<p> -The Judge was in full sympathy, but for -order's sake he asked if the Commonwealth's -Attorney desired to be heard in opposition to -the request of the counsel. -</p> - -<p> -"Not in opposition," said the official, "but -in full and hearty sympathy. I feel that a -great wrong has been done; I feel this so -strongly that I have sent to the proper authority -my resignation of the office I hold, in order -that I may never again have part or lot in a -wrong so grievous. I earnestly second the request -of the counsel for the prisoner that everything -shall be done which the law permits, to -prevent further wrong and to right the wrong -already done." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well," said the Judge. "The sheriff -is ordered to return to the clerk the papers in -his possession. The prisoner is paroled in the -custody of his counsel, to await further proceedings. -Unfortunately the court knows of -no process of law by which the fact of this -innocent man's conviction and sentence can be -undone. It is not within the power of man to -make that not to be which has been. The -court cannot undo the proceedings that have -been had in this case. It can only make an -earnest effort to prevent the wrongful results -of those proceedings. To that end I purpose -to go in person before the Governor of the -State to ask for the fullest reparation that can -be made, namely, a pardon—pardon for a -crime that has not been committed. It seems -almost a mockery, but it is the best that is possible -under the law. In order to give all the -emphasis I can to the proceedings, I shall adjourn -court for a time, and ask the Commonwealth's -Attorney to accompany me on this -mission of justice. Further than that, I direct -him to summon the members of the jury that -convicted Boyd Westover of a crime of which -he is not guilty, to go with us before the Governor -and join us in our request. So far as -the securing of a pardon is concerned, no effort -of this kind is necessary; but the court -deems it proper in this case to make this united -appeal of judge, jury, and prosecutor by way -of emphasizing our recognition of the injustice -done. The court stands adjourned until four -o'clock this afternoon, at which hour Mr. -Boyd Westover"—the Judge no longer spoke -of him as "the prisoner"—"will present -himself here and the court will itself deliver -to him—as it is fitting that the court should -do in such a case—the papers relieving him, -so far as it is possible now to relieve him, of -all the consequences of a clearly erroneous accusation -and conviction." -</p> - -<p> -When the Judge ceased speaking, Boyd -Westover made a profound bow to him, saying -simply: "I thank you." Then turning to -Towns he said: -</p> - -<p> -"Come, Jack! I'm faint and hungry. Let's -go to Tom Griffin's and get something to -eat." -</p> - -<p> -Tom Griffin's was a place well known in the -Richmond of that old time. Tom himself was -a negro slave who enjoyed vastly more liberty -than any free man of color ever did in Virginia. -Every gentleman in Richmond was his -personal friend; so was every aristocratic -planter east of the Blue Ridge. Any one of -them would have drawn his check in payment -for Tom's liberty, if Tom had desired to be -free. But Tom Griffin wanted nothing of the -kind. He was happy and he knew when he -was well off. If his freedom had been bought, -he must, under the law, have left his native -state, whose people were his friends and whose -associations meant to him all that life could -mean. -</p> - -<p> -He knew all there was to know of catering -and of cookery. Better still, as he phrased it, -he "instincted just how to make things good -to eat." He had genius, in short, and the fact -was recognized and celebrated by every man in -Virginia who had a palate and the price—and -who enjoyed Tom Griffin's favor. For -Tom Griffin's place was no ordinary restaurant. -Men of the common herd were not welcomed -there. Only those whom he recognized as his -friends—and his friendships were rigidly restricted -to the aristocratic class—were privileged -to sit at Tom's polished old mahogany -table, and enjoy sora, or canvas backs or terrapin -in perfection. Only such were served -with his glorified chine and spare-ribs, his roast -turkey or his forequarters of spring lamb. -And those who were so privileged could never -be persuaded to believe that anybody else in all -the world could even by accident serve any -viand in such perfection as that in which every -viand came from Tom Griffin's expert hands. -</p> - -<p> -Tom probably knew who his master was, -but nobody else ever asked. Tom probably -paid his master a liberal compensation for his -time; he could well afford to do so. For Tom -Griffin was rich—so rich that many a young -Virginian whose frequent rash expenditures -threatened to involve him in argument with his -father, found relief in a loan from Tom Griffin's -hand, concerning which no papers were -passed. These loans were certain to be repaid. -They were debts of honor, seeing that as a -suitor Tom Griffin—a negro slave—would -have had no standing in court. -</p> - -<p> -Tom Griffin had waiters in adequate force, -but he never permitted them to serve a gentleman -without his personal superintendence. If -a gentleman wanted a glass of water during -his meal—as even Virginia gentlemen sometimes -did—Tom regarded his waiter as a -person competent to serve it. The waiter could -clear away the used crockery, too, and see to it -that lighted wax candles were in place for -cigar-lighting purposes. There were other -minor offices that Tom permitted to his waiters. -But when it came to serving a dish, Tom -took the function upon himself. -</p> - -<p> -"You see," he once explained, "the boys is -so stupid. If I've laid myself out to have a -dish just right, I ain't a goin' to spile all my -work by lettin' a clumsy nigger slap-bang it -on the table, like as if he was a sellin' fish in -the market." -</p> - -<p> -In accordance with his custom, therefore, -Tom personally served a dinner that Boyd -Westover had not ordered. There were soft -crabs to begin with. There was a whole fore-quarter -of genuine spring lamb for Boyd to -carve at will. There were the earliest peas -of the season, secured by Tom Griffin's "System," -which consisted in letting all the market -gardeners know that he paid higher prices than -anybody else for the first and best of every -garden's product, and, more important still, -that any gardener failing to give him first -choice would be cut off his list, a proscription -too serious to be faced with composure. There -were the first tomatoes of the season, too, and -there was everything else that was possible, -including a <i>meringe a la créme</i>, black coffee -and cigars at the end. -</p> - -<p> -Boyd Westover had ordered nothing of the -sort, but Tom Griffin served it all quite as if -he had done so, and when it came upon the -table Tom busied himself and a corkscrew in -opening a dusty, cobwebbed bottle of antique -Madeira, saying as he did so: -</p> - -<p> -"Dis is Ann Maria wine, Mas' Boyd, an' -dere ain't much of it left in Old Virginia, I -reckon. Will you 'scuse me ef I say I ain't -paid no attention to your order in gittin' your -dinner ready, an' I ain't asked what sort o' -wine you wanted? De explanation is dat Tom -Griffin is a furnishin' this here dinner an' this -here Ann Maria Madeira, as his contribution -to de joyful occasion. Gentlemen, I trust your -appetites is good." -</p> - -<p> -With that Tom withdrew too hastily for -protest or remonstrance. As he went he -snatched a napkin from a vacant table, with -which to dry his dusky cheeks of the tears that -were streaming down them in spite of all his -efforts at self-control. -</p> - -<p> -Tom had learned from his customers to -speak fairly correct English, and his lapse into -the negro dialect of his boyhood on this occasion -was the "outward and visible sign of the -inward" emotional disturbance that Boyd -Westover's experience had wrought in his all-affectionate -soul. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap12"></a> -XII -<br /> -AFTER THE STORM -</h3> - -<p> -Hungry as Boyd Westover had declared -himself to be, and tempting as -was the dinner that Tom Griffin -served, the young man ate with scant appetite, -and when the meal was over his friend was -anxiously worried. -</p> - -<p> -"See here, Boyd!" he said. "In view of -all the circumstances you ought to be the jolliest -fellow in Richmond to-day. You've -borne up astonishingly during the real stress -of this affair. Why should you flunk now that -it's all over and you're a victor?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'm not flunking. I'll never flunk, but -stoicism costs," answered Westover. -</p> - -<p> -"Just how do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"I mean that my determination to bear a -bold and unflinching front as it becomes a -Westover to do when the penitentiary doors -were yawning for me, with lifelong disgrace -as my portion, has taken more out of me than -you can easily believe. To a man raised in our -traditions, the prospect of disgrace and shame -is a fearful thing to face. A score of agonizing -deaths by torture would have been to me -as nothing in comparison with what I have -suffered in contemplation of this horror. I -have faced the thing as bravely as I could. -That much I owed to my name, my caste, my -lineage—call it what you will. But my bank -account of endurance is running low now. -My drafts upon it have been heavy and—well, -there have been no deposits to strengthen -it." -</p> - -<p> -He was thinking bitterly of Margaret Conway's -defection. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't let us talk of that. I'm as nearly -on the verge of collapse as a healthy man can -be, that's all." -</p> - -<p> -"But you are vindicated, and when your -pardon comes this afternoon—" -</p> - -<p> -"Pardon? Yes. For a crime I did not commit. -Think of it, Jack. From this hour forth -I shall be a man accused, convicted and sentenced -for a crime of infamous character, and -graciously pardoned for it. It couldn't be -worse—except to my own soul—if I were -guilty. The pardon undoes nothing but the -punishment. It doesn't wipe out the stain. -It doesn't—oh, well, you understand. I am -free, but my life is ruined. If I were called -as a witness in court, the opposing attorney -would be free to ask me if I had not been convicted -of a felony and sentenced, and I should -have to answer yes. Then he could forbid -me to explain. The thing is horrible. The -law as it stands is infamously unjust. Why -should I be a pardoned criminal when I have -committed no crime? Why should not the -court that convicted me and sentenced me under -a mistake have power to undo the wrong -by another trial or procedure of some kind? -Why should I not be acquitted of a false accusation -instead of being 'pardoned' for an -offence never committed? No, don't bother -to answer. I know the answer already. Such -cases are too rare for the law to have provided -for them, though it is the law's boast that there -is no wrong for which it doesn't provide a -remedy. However, let's talk of something else. -I'm going off for rest. I suppose this Rocky -Mountain matter ought to be looked after. -Will you go out there as my representative, -under your blanket power of attorney, and do -whatever you think best about it? There -seems to be money enough in it to pay you all -you want in the way of fees, according to -your representation." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll go, of course. But I wish you would -go instead, or go with me. It would divert -your mind, and, believe me, Boyd, you need -such diversion more than anything else. Why -can't you go?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because I must rest, and because—well, -because of many things. Never mind. I'm -not going and you are. I'm going a fishing. -Draw up all the necessary papers and I'll execute -them. Can you get them ready to-night? -I want to go away to-morrow morning -and forget." -</p> - -<p> -"Where will you go? To Wanalah?" -</p> - -<p> -"No; except for brief preparations. To -the mountains. You know I own three or four -high mountain tops up in the Blue Ridge, with -the swales, called valleys, that lie between. -The land is worthless, but the woods up there -are full of game and the brooks alive with -trout. My grandfather bought the vast tract -as an indulgence and my father kept it with -a like purpose. There's a shack of some sort -up there I believe. If not, I can build one in -a half day, and it will interest me to chink and -daub it." -</p> - -<p> -Jack Towns sat silent for a time. Then he -said: -</p> - -<p> -"I heartily disapprove of your plan. It -means solitude, and you need association with -men to cure you of morbid and unwholesome -feelings." -</p> - -<p> -"But I can associate with men only upon -sufferance. You've heard of the person who -said: 'The more I see of men, the better I -like dogs.' I'm not quite of his mind, but anyhow -I'm going up into the high mountains -with my dogs, my guns and my fishing tackle. -So get all the papers ready, Jack, and let me -get away as soon as possible." -</p> - -<p> -Again, Jack Towns sat silent and troubled. -After awhile he said: -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you'll go to my house to-night -and be my guest so long as you remain in -Richmond?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, I will if you'll see to it that -no visitors get at me. I want to go to sleep -as soon as this thing's over and I'd like to stay -asleep forever." -</p> - -<p> -"You're all wrong, but of course as a guest -in my house you'll be protected from everything -that is reasonably or unreasonably disagreeable -to you. But really, Boyd, the people -who are sure to call to-night—" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know. They will call to offer congratulations -which are in fact commiserations -and condolences. I don't care to attend my -own funeral in the capacity of chief mourner, -just yet. I shouldn't mind the funeral, with -myself for the corpse, but I'm not prepared to -play the part of chief mourner." -</p> - -<p> -"You're morbid, Boyd." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps so, but I'm going to become -healthy again. Now listen. I'm going off into -the mountains to match my wits with those -of the wiliest trout, the shyest deer, the most -experienced wild turkey gobblers, and now and -then perhaps to try conclusions with a sly old -bear. By the time I return to civilization, I'll -have decided upon my career. I'm going to do -something—I don't know what. But by that -time I'll know." -</p> - -<p> -"Good! That's the way to look at things. -After all, the strain your stoicism has put upon -you hasn't robbed you of your robust manhood, -and that is what I feared." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear Jack, I couldn't lose that and go -on living. It is only that I must have a little -time in which to pull myself together and see -what I can do. If your mission to the Rocky -Mountains proves that those fellows out there -are right, and that a great wealth is ready to -my hand, I may turn philanthropist, or I may -enter upon great business undertakings which -by their employment of multitudes of men at -good wages are perhaps the most philanthropic -of all endeavors. I don't know. I can't think -till I sleep and rest. At any rate while I am -recovering tone up in the high mountains of -the Blue Ridge, you will find out what monetary -tools I have to work with. Theology -teaches us that the primal curse was a condemnation -to work. It was the primal blessing -instead. That's an aside. I have good -friends up in the mountains, chief among -whom is Judy Peters." -</p> - -<p> -"The Queen of the mountains? I've heard -of her. She's an erratic political factor with -whom every candidate must reckon, I'm -told." -</p> - -<p> -"She's all that. She controls the mountain -vote in her district as absolutely as the Superintendent -of the Penitentiary was to have controlled -me—" -</p> - -<p> -"Now, my dear Boyd, I beg you to put -aside that sort of brooding. It's morbid, it's -hurtful to your character, it's—" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know. But I'm not pardoned yet, -you know, and naturally—never mind. I -was speaking of Judy. She doesn't abuse her -political power. In many elections she doesn't -use it at all. She says to her subjects: 'I ain't -choosed 'twixt them two candidates. Choose -for yourselves.' But when she does choose -and intimates her choice the men of the mountain -all vote her way, and their vote makes an -end of all uncertainty as to the result of that -election. But it isn't only in politics that she -rules. A Baptist preacher went up that way -once and became pastor of a church. For a -while he 'cut a wide swath,' as Judy said. -But he made the mistake of offending her -majesty by some indiscreet criticism of her. -She manifested no displeasure, but on the -next Sunday and the next he found a meeting -house full of empty benches to preach to. -Then he quit, as Judy afterwards explained, -'because his usefulness was at its end.' It's -the same way with everything else. Ordinarily -she does not interfere, but when she does her -interference is instantly effective. It's a common -saying up there that 'ef you want to -stay in the mountings comfortable like, you -don't want to git yourself into Judy Peters's -bad books.'" -</p> - -<p> -"On what does her extraordinary influence -rest?" -</p> - -<p> -"It would be hard to say. Partly I should -say upon her extraordinary sagacity, especially -in her judgment of men and her penetration -of their motives. My father used to say she -had second sight of the Scottish sort. It is -certain that no man ever deceives her for long, -no false pretense ever endures her scrutiny, -and she never falters in her judgments. She -is as relentless as Fate itself and as merciless -in her dealings with what she adjudges to be -wrong. As she doesn't know what fear means, -she is equally resolute in her active support of -all causes that enlist her sympathy. She is -ignorant, as we reckon such things, but her -sagacity is well nigh supernatural, and she -keeps herself informed on all matters that interest -her, with an accuracy that a detective -bureau might envy. She is kindly, but not -courteous. She hates shams with an elemental -intensity. If you are a guest in her house she -fulfils every obligation of hospitality, but she -tells you no lies either in word or deed. She -will lay herself out to serve you with sublime -fried chicken and glorified waffles, but if she -catches you in a falsehood she'll tell you you -are a liar even while she presses the apple -butter or the maple syrup upon your acceptance. -In brief, Judy Peters is altogether a -natural human being, whose elemental passions -have never been curbed by convention, -whose courage is of the kind that never shrinks -from the recognition of truth or from its telling -in plain words. If she likes you she will say -so. If she dislikes you she will tell you the -fact in equally plain words. If she is in doubt -about you, she will tell you she 'ain't choosed -yit' as to you. That's Judy. Still my description -utterly lacks something, I don't know -what—personality perhaps. You must know -Judy personally if you would understand her. -Her malignity, in cases that seem to her to -call for it, is well nigh beyond conception in -its devilish ingenuity and persistence; her loyalty, -on the other hand, stops at nothing that -may serve its fortunate beneficiary. She was -my father's friend, in her odd way, and she is -mine. My father once rendered her a service; -I don't know what it was, and she won't tell -me. He always said it was a trifle of no consequence; -she always answers my inquiries about -it by saying: -</p> - -<p> -"''Tain't none o' your business, Boyd, what -he done for me, but ef I could 'a' turned these -here mountings upside down an' he'd 'a' give -the word as how he wanted it done, over the -mountings would 'a' gone, you kin bet your -bottom dollar on that proposition.' -</p> - -<p> -"She is my friend on my father's account -and nothing can change that. If I should try -to deceive her she'd denounce me to my face -as a liar, but she'd make the mountains too hot -to hold anybody else who should suggest such -a thing, and she'd go on doing her mightiest -in my interest, in spite of my fault. In her -way she is a wholesome sort of person for me -to meet just now, and I'm going to spend a -few days with her, just for the bracing up -she'll give me. After that I'll go on up into -the high mountains." -</p> - -<p> -So ended the dinner and the conversation. -Next morning Westover set out for Wanalah, -where he intended to spend a few days giving -necessary directions and equipping himself with -supplies for his sojourn in the mountains. -These consisted of books, mainly, with a bag -of corn meal, a ham or two, a few sides of -bacon, guns, ammunition, fishing tackle and -rough clothing, all of which were loaded into -an ox cart, which a negro boy was to drive in -leisurely fashion to Judy Peters's. Beyond -that, in the climb up the mountainside, oxen -would be of less use than bother, and Westover -depended upon the long legs and strong -arms of mountaineers to manage the further -transportation. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap13"></a> -XIII -<br /> -"AUNT BETSY" TAKES THE HELM -</h3> - -<p> -It would have been a dangerous thing for -any man to accuse Colonel Conway of -cowardice. Personal courage was his in -full measure. Three times during the Mexican -war he had been promoted—rising from -lieutenant to colonel—and each time in special -recognition of "conspicuous gallantry in -action." He was afraid of no man and no -company of men. He did and dared throughout -his life with absolute disregard of danger. -</p> - -<p> -But Colonel Conway was mightily afraid of -his sister Betsy, as his daughter had said. -Why, he could not have told, but the fact remained -that he was afraid of that elderly little -woman, encased as she was in an armor of -conventionalities, gentle but resolute, and mercilessly -insistent upon what she decreed to be -"proper" conduct. -</p> - -<p> -When the negro boy who daily brought the -letter bag from the post office to The Oaks -reported that Mr. Boyd Westover had come up -from Richmond and was to stay only for a -day or two at Wanalah, Colonel Conway -promptly announced his purpose to ride over -and congratulate him. The family were at -the breakfast table at the time and the Colonel -observed that his daughter paled at the mention -of his purpose, though she said nothing -in reply to his declaration. His sister, "Aunt -Betsy," also said nothing. It was her habit to -say nothing till the time was ripe. -</p> - -<p> -Immediately after breakfast Margaret -sought speech with her father. -</p> - -<p> -"You are right, father, and what you purpose -is the part of an honorable man. You -ought to go to Boyd and take his hand, and -make him feel that men of your kind and his -kind understand. But—" She paused uncertainly. -</p> - -<p> -"'But' what, daughter?" asked the Colonel, -eagerly scanning her face. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing. I was only going to say that -perhaps it will be just as well not to mention -me—unless he does so first." -</p> - -<p> -There was that in her hesitating utterance -which awakened the Colonel's attention and -curiosity. -</p> - -<p> -"But why not, Margaret?" he questioned. -"Surely it is about you he will be most eager -to hear." -</p> - -<p> -"If so he will ask. If he doesn't, I beg of -you—" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, surely you've heard from him frequently -during this trouble—and you've written -to him?" -</p> - -<p> -"I've written to him, yes." -</p> - -<p> -"And he has written to you, of course?" -</p> - -<p> -The girl stood silent, while she plucked -honeysuckles from the vines that shrouded the -porch in which they stood, and nervously -pulled them to pieces. -</p> - -<p> -"Answer me, child," the Colonel said in a -tone of command. "Hasn't Boyd Westover -written to you during all this trouble?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have received no letter from him," she -answered hesitatingly. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean that he hasn't written to you -of his arrest, trial and all the rest of it, of his -vindication and—" -</p> - -<p> -"I have had no letter from him," she repeated. -</p> - -<p> -"Hasn't he even offered you a release from -your engagement?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have had no letter from him," she said -again, but this time she lost her self control -and blurted out the thought that had troubled -her for many days. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh Father," she said, seizing his arm as -if to detain him, "there has been some cruel -mistake, some miscarriage, something, I don't -know what. I only know that Boyd Westover -is a gentleman and would never have neglected -such a duty." -</p> - -<p> -"As he <i>has</i> neglected it, he is unworthy -of a gentleman's recognition, Margaret. I -shall not go near him." -</p> - -<p> -"You are judging him unheard," she -promptly and passionately answered; "and oh, -Father, that isn't like you, because it is unworthy, -and nothing unworthy or unjust is -like you. I beg of you, give him a chance. -You need do nothing but make a call. The -explanation will follow—if there is an explanation. -If there isn't—well, we shall -know." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll go, daughter, of course. It is my duty. -But I'll force the explanation. I have a right -to ask him why, being engaged to marry my -daughter, he has sent her no release, in view of -the circumstances. That will bring out all -there is to say on the subject." -</p> - -<p> -At that point in their conversation the father -and daughter were interrupted by the advent -of "Aunt Betsy," who passed from the house -into the porch quite casually, and said to Margaret: -</p> - -<p> -"When you have leisure, dear, you'd better -see Janet. She has come to say that Diana is -much worse this morning and that the doctor, -who was in a hurry, left some important written -directions out at the quarters." -</p> - -<p> -Quick to respond to duty, especially where -the sick of the plantation were concerned, Margaret -was in the saddle a minute later and galloping -toward the "quarters," as the negro -village was called in plantation nomenclature. -</p> - -<p> -No sooner had her sorrel palfry's white tail -flashed its signal of departure through the -outer grove, than "Aunt Betsy" turned to her -brother, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you forgot yourself, brother, -when you impulsively declared your purpose -to visit Mr. Boyd Westover to-day. The one -serious fault in your nature is impulsiveness. -You are too chivalric, too trusting, too confident -of others, too apt to think of them as men -like yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"What is it you want to say, Betsy?" asked -the Colonel as he sank limply into one of the -porch chairs. -</p> - -<p> -"Only that upon reflection you must see -that it won't do for you to call upon Mr. -Westover." -</p> - -<p> -"But why not?" -</p> - -<p> -"There are a dozen reasons. He's a man -under a cloud you know. He has been regularly -convicted of a crime, and sentenced for -it, and—" -</p> - -<p> -"But he has been fully vindicated and pardoned," -interrupted the Colonel. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, of course. Fully vindicated by the -confession of a demented man who may or -may not know what he is saying. It may be—well, -anything may be, you know, and opinions -in this community are likely to be divided -as to the matter of Mr. Boyd Westover's guilt. -So long as that remains unsettled the Master -of The Oaks cannot afford to take sides by -visiting Wanalah." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean that I, Colonel Robert Conway, -of The Oaks, am not free to do as I damn -please just because a lot of pestilent old gossips -think to say me nay?" -</p> - -<p> -"You misunderstand me, Robert, and you -grieve me to the heart by the violence of your -language." -</p> - -<p> -"Did I swear? If so I beg pardon, but -sometimes oaths will slip out. It's a bad habit -I acquired in the army." -</p> - -<p> -"You utterly fail to understand me," said -"Aunt Betsy." "I am not concerned about -myself or you, or the family name, though that -is dearer to me than all else in the world. I'm -concerned for Margaret. You are a man, of -course, but even a man ought to see that for -Margaret's father to visit Westover of Wanalah, -under existing circumstances, would be -everywhere interpreted as throwing Margaret -at his head, challenging him to fulfil his engagement -with her. In brief it would be almost -the equivalent of that vulgar impossibility -in Virginia, a breach of promise suit." -</p> - -<p> -"Aunt Betsy" saw in Colonel Conway's -face that she had carried her point, and she -did not imperil the result by further speech. -She suddenly applied her handkerchief to her -eyes instead, and hastily retreated to her room, -confident that on that day at least her brother -would not ride over to Wanalah. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap14"></a> -XIV -<br /> -WESTOVER AT WANALAH -</h3> - -<p> -But if Colonel Conway did not visit -Westover during his brief stay at Wanalah, -some others did. In the main -they were elderly men of his own social class, -whose purpose was sincere to express their -pleasure in his escape from an embarrassing -perplexity. But their very sincerity proved to -be the undoing of their purpose. They hardly -knew how to approach the subject of his -trouble without offence and yet it seemed necessary -to speak of it. It isn't easy to tell a -man of high place in the world that you are -pleased with his accidental escape from a term -of penal servitude in the penitentiary. As a -result of this embarrassment the congratulations -of these gentlemen, which were meant to -be cordial, seemed to Westover to be coldly -commiserative instead. Meant to be comradely, -they seemed to him condescending -almost to the point of offensiveness. To make -matters worse, Westover's visitors were as -sorely embarrassed as he was, and by way -of escape, every one of them, upon one pretext -or another, declined his invitation to -stay to dinner which, under ordinary circumstances, -every one of them would have accepted -quite as a matter of course. To him -this suggested avoidance of intimacy. -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps all this was emphasized to his mind -by his experience with the earliest of his visitors -on that day. This was William Wilberforce -Webb, a young lawyer who as representative -of the county in the House of Delegates—the -legislature of Virginia—regarded -himself as "a rising young statesman, in the -direct line of promotion." -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Webb was not a man in Westover's -class, and in visiting Wanalah at all he was -guilty of something approaching presumption, -under the rules of the social régime of that -time and country. Still, as the representative -of the county in the legislature, he had a right -perhaps to regard himself as privileged to that -extent. -</p> - -<p> -However that might be, Westover welcomed -him cordially as the first of his neighbors to -call. He extended the customary hospitalities -of the house, which the other accepted. Then -the two fell into conversation upon general -topics, drifting into more personal themes by -natural processes. Lacking the tact that comes -of good breeding, the voluble and self appreciative -lawyer presently sought to exalt his own -condescension in promptly calling upon Westover. -</p> - -<p> -"You see I have no hidebound prejudices, -Westover, and in my position, as the representative -of the people, the promptitude of my visit -may encourage others to recognize you, in -spite of what has happened." -</p> - -<p> -Pale to the lips with passion, Westover rose -as the man spoke, moved to the edge of the -porch in which they had been sitting, and, calling -to a negro boy, said: -</p> - -<p> -"Bring this gentleman's horse to the door at -once; do you hear? He has imperative business -elsewhere than at Wanalah." -</p> - -<p> -There was no mistaking the meaning of this, -and Webb was quick to comprehend it. Rising -angrily he asked: -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean, sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"You heard my instruction to the boy," answered -Westover in an even, unexcited voice. -"You can infer my meaning from that. By -the way, the boy has obeyed promptly and your -horse is waiting for you." -</p> - -<p> -The man was unaccustomed to such deliberation -and self control in the speech of an angry -person, but he sought to imitate it as he had -sought before to copy the manners of those -whose social position he envied. He suppressed -the impulse of intemperate speech -and, assuming the dignity that he thought -belonged to him in right of his "position," -said: -</p> - -<p> -"You will hear from me, promptly, Mr. -Westover." -</p> - -<p> -"At your pleasure, sir," answered Westover. -"I shall remain at Wanalah for four -days, after to-day. After that I shall be absent -for a time, but should your message to me be -delayed so long, which I can hardly conceive -to be possible, you can communicate with me -later through my overseer, with whom I shall -leave an address to be used only in emergencies. -Should you leave any message with him he -will have instructions to forward it to me by -a special courier who will lose no time in its -delivery." -</p> - -<p> -This was a crowning affront to a man of -Webb's extraction, and perhaps Westover -meant it to be such. The overseer class in -Virginia was the most inferior of all, and the -very suggestion of one gentleman that he -would communicate with another through his -overseer would have implied insult. If Westover -had been speaking to one whom he regarded -as an equal he would have said: -</p> - -<p> -"My address for a time will be uncertain, -but my overseer will have it and I'll instruct -him to keep my lawyer informed of it from -time to time." -</p> - -<p> -To make matters worse, it was the bitterest -drop of gall in Webb's cup that he was himself -descended from a race of overseers. His -father, indeed, had never served in that capacity, -for the reason that the grandfather had left -him enough money to buy a little plantation -of his own and struggle for recognition as a -member of the planter class. But Webb had -learned by experience that there was vitality -in the Virginian dogma that "it takes three -generations to make a gentleman." -</p> - -<p> -The suggestion, therefore, that he might, -if necessary, communicate with Westover -through the Wanalah overseer, was peculiarly -offensive to Webb. Whether Westover had -intended it to be so or not, there is no means -of finding out. He was angry enough to intend -anything. -</p> - -<p> -But this encounter spoiled Westover's capacity -to enjoy the visits of his later coming -friends. It set his sensitiveness on edge, as -it were, and prompted his mind to misinterpretation, -so that when he was left to dine -alone at Wanalah that day the very spaciousness -of the dining room seemed to mock his -solitude, while the polished furniture that had -witnessed so much of joyous festivity in that -great banquet hall seemed to have put on -mourning for its master. -</p> - -<p> -About sunset, however, relief came to Westover's -spirit in the person of Dr. Carley Farnsworth. -His real name was Don Carlos Farnsworth, -and he was a physician, but to Westover -as to every other friend he had ever had, -he was known as "Carley." Carley was in -many ways peculiar. He was cynical at times -and always disposed to take a whimsical view -of things. His sense of humor was alert and -keen, though he never in his life made a joke -and very rarely laughed. His most whimsical -interpretations of events and situations were -delivered in solemn, philosophical fervor, and -with a seriousness that well nigh undid the -humor of them. -</p> - -<p> -He arrived at Wanalah about sunset, and -greeted his old friend cordially, and quite as -if his visit had been an ordinary one with no -"circumstances" of any kind behind it. Carley -Farnsworth was a gentleman, that was all. -He had tact and <i>nous</i>, and above all a sympathy -so abounding that trespass upon another's -sensibilities was impossible to him. Even in -examining patients, it was said of him that he -asked all his questions in a way that made -them seem a matter of course. -</p> - -<p> -After the first greetings were over he said: -</p> - -<p> -"I've been rather impatiently waiting for -your return to Wanalah, Boyd, because I've -been wanting to floor you with half a dozen -authorities that agree with me as to the construction -of <i>ut</i> with the subjunctive in that -passage we came so near fighting about. I've -devoted all my time lately to the task of accumulating -ammunition and after supper I'm -going to blow you clear out of the arena. But -supper first, of course. I'm a hungry hygienist -and I know the flavor of the Wanalah hams. -By the way, you and I are alone; why -shouldn't we be dissolute? If you'll tell your -cook to serve us some roasted black-eyed peas, -such as you and I ate here a year ago,—roasted -in the pod you know, and served with -the hot ashes on them,—I'll promise to be -happy for a whole year to come. Of course -there'll be broiled tomatoes as an adjunct to -the cold ham, and paper thin wafer biscuit to -keep our digestions in order, and after supper -we'll discuss '<i>ut</i> with the subjunctive' as far -into the night as you please." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," said Westover, smiling for -the first time that day. "I'm ready for the -contest, though really I don't think either of -us is Latin scholar enough to be entitled to -'views' on the subject." -</p> - -<p> -"There you annoyingly agree with the authorities," -answered Dr. Farnsworth. "You -see I wrote to Professor Anthon on the subject, -submitting my contentions, and he replied -most courteously, suggesting that if I -would supplement my obviously rudimentary -Latin studies with a more considerable reading -of Latin texts,—he mentioned fifteen -hundred or so that he thought I might profitably -run through in my leisure moments,—I -would gain some slight insight into the -grammatical problem I had undertaken to -settle out of my own inner consciousness and -Bullion's Latin Grammar. The thing put me -on my mettle, so I wrote to our own University -professor, Dr. Gessner Harrison. What -do you think? He replied: 'My dear Dr. -Farnsworth: You're a sublimated idiot and -a good many different kinds of a donkey.' -Those weren't his exact words, you understand, -but the paraphrase fairly interprets the -spirit of his reply. However, we'll leave all -that till after supper." -</p> - -<p> -So he chattered on, after his habit, and he -succeeded not only in preventing talk of depressing -things, but in amusing his host so far -as to awaken something like jollity in him. -</p> - -<p> -But an occurrence during supper threatened -to spoil all. A missive arrived from Webb, -borne not by a friend commissioned to "act -for him," but by a negro servant. -</p> - -<p> -Westover tore the envelope open and read -the few lines written upon the sheet within. -They ran as follows: -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Webb intimated to Mr. Westover today -that he would presently send him a hostile -note. Upon reflection Mr. Webb has decided -that he cannot afford to send anything of the -kind. It seems to him and to such friends as -he has had time to consult that recent events -affecting Mr. Westover's status in society—events -which need not be specified in detail—have -rendered it unnecessary and unbecoming -for any gentleman to pay attention to anything -that Mr. Westover may say or do." -</p> - -<p> -Having read the insolent message with no -sign of anger that would have been observed -by anybody, Westover turned to his dining-room -servant and said, quite indifferently: -</p> - -<p> -"Send the boy who brought that note to me. -I wish to speak to him." -</p> - -<p> -When the negro messenger entered, Westover -asked: -</p> - -<p> -"Do you belong to Mr. Webb?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir. Laws a Massy, Mas' Boyd, he -don't own no folks er nothin' else. He jes' -hires me to fetch and carry for him sometimes." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought so. How much did he pay you -to bring this note to me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Eighteen pence, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, now I want you to carry it back to -him and I'll give you two and threepence for -the service. I'll make it half a dollar, if you'll -tell him just what I say." -</p> - -<p> -In old Virginia "eighteen pence" meant a -quarter of a dollar, and "two and threepence" -meant thirty-seven and a half cents, the shilling -then being sixteen and two-thirds cents, -as the result of some ancient debasement of -coin in England. -</p> - -<p> -"Suttenly, sir. Ef what you wants me to -say is so superfluous like as to make him mad, -I reckon I kin run faster'n he kin." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well then. I want you to hand him -back his letter and say: -</p> - -<p> -"'Mas' Boyd Westover says he hasn't time -just now to ride seven miles to the Court House -to pull your nose or slap your jaws, but he'll -attend to the matter at the first convenient opportunity.' -Can you say that?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," interrupted Carley Farnsworth. -"Why should you want him to? It wouldn't -add a cubit to the stature of your dignity and -it wouldn't be any worse affront to Webb than -you can put upon him by sending his note back -without a word. He would rejoice in a quarrel -with you—a safe one at arm's length I -mean. It would exalt him in the eyes of -others, and as he's a member of the legislature -sure of his reelection, you can't challenge him -or he you. You may hold any view you please -as to '<i>ut</i>' with the subjunctive, but on this -matter you simply mustn't obey the impulses of -temporary anger. Send the letter back without -a word, and to-morrow you'll thank me -for bringing philosophy and common sense to -the restraint of an impulse that has its root in -the dormant but still potential savagery of your -nature." -</p> - -<p> -Westover laughed at the solemn ponderousness -of his friend's utterance, and the laughter -was good for him. -</p> - -<p> -"You're right, of course," he said. "Here, -Sam, just take this letter back to Mr. Webb -and tell him I sent no message of any kind. -And here's your half dollar." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as the negro left the room the young -man said: -</p> - -<p> -"After all, my time hasn't come yet, and -meanwhile I must preserve my dignity. You -see, Carley, I am still Westover of Wanalah, -and I mean to prove it to all men by doing -things. I don't know yet what things they -are to be, but they must be worthy of the name -I bear. I'm going off to rest and think for -a while, and when I come back to Wanalah -Jack Towns will tell me what tools I have to -work with. Meanwhile brawling with an underbred -fellow like Webb would be most unbecoming." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm glad to see that you have lucid intervals, -Boyd," answered his friend. "I reckon -we won't bother with Latin Grammar to-night. -Let's play backgammon instead. But in the -meantime let me give you a professional opinion -and some professional advice. You are -neurasthenic and you've got to get over it. -Your mountain trip will be good for you, but -it would be better still if you could get up a -fight of some sort. I'll try to stir up something -of the kind for you, when you get back. Anyhow, -you've got to <i>quit thinking about yourself</i>. -Let me assure you that there are thousands -of more interesting topics to think -about. There's lettuce, for example, and -there is music, to say nothing of onions and -roe herrings and the Missouri Compromise, -and the relations of agriculture to national -wealth, and 'possum hunting, and black-eyed -peas and the Dred Scott decision and the -morality of flipping quarters at crack loo. -Oh, here's the backgammon board. Let's get -to work." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap15"></a> -XV -<br /> -UP AT JUDY'S -</h3> - -<p> -Robust as he was, Boyd Westover felt -himself somewhat weary and footsore -when he put one hand on the top rail -of Judy Peters's gateless fence and sprang -over it to greet his hostess. -</p> - -<p> -She was waiting for him of course. She had -caught sight of him far down the mountain, -at one of the many turns of the road which -were conveniently visible from her door or her -other points of observation. It was not Judy's -habit to be surprised by any arrival. She had -had no warning of Westover's intended visit, -but she was keen of vision, and had had no -difficulty in recognizing the wayfarer four -miles away, if measured by the tortuosities of -the road, and perhaps a mile away as the crow -flies. -</p> - -<p> -That had been two or three hours before the -time of his actual arrival, but Judy had not -wondered at the delay. She knew Boyd's ways -and she had made out that he had fishing tackle -with him. -</p> - -<p> -"Sapphiry," she had asked her daughter, -"how many chickens has you got picked an' -fixed in the spring house." -</p> - -<p> -"Four," answered Sapphira. "Why, -Mammy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Never you mind why." Then relenting -toward the girl's curiosity she said: -</p> - -<p> -"Boyd Westover's a comin', an' he'll be -mighty hungry fer supper. He's afoot an' -it's more'n twenty mile from his place here. -Besides that he's got four big branches to fish -afore he gits here an' that'll take a heap o' -walkin' to say nothin' o' the len'th o' the road. -So you jes' go on with your ironin' till I tell -you to set about gittin' supper." -</p> - -<p> -"May be he won't fish the branches," suggested -the girl. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, an' may be the moon'll rise in the -west to-night an' run wrong way 'crost the -firmament. It's the same sort of a may be, -an' that sort never happens." -</p> - -<p> -"What you reckon he's a comin' fer, -Mammy?" asked Sapphira as she held up a -stiffly starched garment to inspect her work. -</p> - -<p> -"Dunno, an' it don't make no difference -neither, as the feller says. Boyd Westover's -father always found a welcome a waitin' at the -fence when he come to Judy Peters's house, -an' I's got the same sort o' welcome a holdin' -out both han's for Boyd when he comes." -Then by way of a more direct though conjectural -answer to her daughter's question she -added: -</p> - -<p> -"Reckon he wants to git away from them -stuckups down his way. I hear they's a been -a botherin' of him o' late. Coffey, William, -son to Jesse, was a tellin' me all about -it." -</p> - -<p> -The form "Coffey, William, son to Jesse," -was one in familiar use in the mountains as a -means of identifying one among a multitude -of men bearing the same name. There were -several families whose membership was so all -pervasive of that region that some such method -of identification on the polling lists and elsewhere -was a necessity, and the polling list -nomenclature had been very generally adopted -into ordinary use. -</p> - -<p> -"What was 't all 'bout, Mammy?" -</p> - -<p> -"I dunno, only, whatever 'twas, another -feller done it." -</p> - -<p> -With that lucid explanation Judy set her -flatiron on a trivet in front of the fire and -went to one of her points of vantage to scan -the road below. On her return she took Sapphira's -flatiron from her hand, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"I'll finish up the ironin'. They ain't but -three or four pieces. You run over to the furdest -'tater patch an' gravel a pan o' potaters. -Git a plenty of 'em, kase they's mighty good -with fish." -</p> - -<p> -To "gravel" potatoes is to dig into the -"hill" in which the vines grow, from its side -remove the larger potatoes from the rootlets, -close up the opening and leave the vines to -bring the remaining tubers to perfection. It -is a process that yields new potatoes before -their time and without destroying the growths. -The potatoes secured in that way are very -small, very unwholesome, but altogether delicious. -</p> - -<p> -"May be he didn't git no fish," said Sapphira -doubtingly. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you jes' look after the potater maybes. -That's your job. The fish'll git here all -right kase I seen him a cleanin' of 'em on the -rocks down 'long Samson's branch. He won't -fish no more this evenin' an' he'll be here in -less 'n an hour. So mosey along an' git them -potaters. Soon's I git through with this petticoat, -I'll sif' some meal fer batter bread, git -out a crock o' apple butter, an' cut up some -tomatuses. Boyd Westover's hungry an' he's -a goin' to have a good supper ef Judy Peters -knows her business, an' she thinks she do." -</p> - -<p> -When Boyd nimbly swung himself over the -fence, all preliminary preparations for the evening -meal were completely made, and Judy -stood ready to welcome him. In his honor -she had changed the limp, hot weather gown -that had served her during her ironing, for -a stiffly starched calico in the violently high -colors of which her barbaric soul mightily -rejoiced. -</p> - -<p> -For greeting Judy said: -</p> - -<p> -"You's come up to shake off the stuck-ups, -Boyd, an' git among natural folks I s'pose. -Anyhow you're welcome. Them's beauties," -looking into Boyd's fish basket, "an' they's a -flat-back an' two catfish among 'em. I'd -ruther eat a catfish or a flat-back any time -than a trout. Trout's sort o' stuck up fish, -even ef they does live up here in the mountings. -But I ain't forgot how to make trout good -with the sauce your pappy learnt me how to -make—sauce All on Days he called it,—an' -I'll make you some fer supper." -</p> - -<p> -Presumably Judy meant sauce Hollandaise. -At any rate the sauce she served with the trout -that night was a glorified example of the dressing -that <i>chefs</i> call by that name, improved by -the gastronomic genius of the late Westover -of Wanalah, and made by Judy Peters, whose -instinct was infallible in the manufacture of -things delectable to the palate. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly Judy observed something in Boyd -Westover's face,—a look of utter weariness -that she was sagacious enough to interpret -aright, though she made no mention of her -interpretation. -</p> - -<p> -"He's got things on his mind," she reflected; -"an' they's more tiresome like than -all the trampin' a feller can do. His legs is -good fer twice the walkin' he's done to-day. -Never mind. We'll fix that up afore we're -through." -</p> - -<p> -Then turning to Westover she said: -</p> - -<p> -"You is awful tired, Boyd, even ef you did -clear the fence like a yearlin' colt. Now you's -a goin' to rest. Never min' tellin' me nothin' -'bout what you're here for nor none o' the rest -of it. You's a-goin' to have a nap. It'll be -a hour or may be two hour afore supper's -ready, 'cause I's got that sauce All on Days to -make, an' it's a slow job. It's awful hot this -evenin'"—Judy meant afternoon, but like the -more aristocratic Virginians she called everything -between noon and nightfall "evening" -and everything after dusk "night," as in very -fact it was. -</p> - -<p> -"It's awful hot this evenin', but they's a -good breeze a blowin' through the passage, an' -they's a broad sofy there, three foot wide an' -seven foot long, an' there you's a goin' to -spen' the time twix this an' supper. They's -pillers a plenty, an' you ain't got nothin' to do -only to lay down an' git a good rest. Come -on in." -</p> - -<p> -Five minutes later Boyd Westover was comfortably -asleep, with the assurance that there -were no shams or false pretenses in the hospitality -he was enjoying, and it was more than -two hours later before Judy permitted him to -be waked. She was accustomed to dominate -everything in her own household, suppers included, -and this particular supper she had -"sot back" by a full hour in order that her -guest might have his nap out. Even then she -forbade a rude awakening. She simply parsed -two or three times through the broad passageway -between the two log houses that constituted -her home, until the swish of her starched -calico skirts awakened him "drop by drop -like," as she explained to Sapphira and those -of her long-legged sons who had "turned up" -for supper in the maternal home. Those boys, -Webster, Henry Clay, Andrew Jackson and -Theonidas—heaven only knows where Judy -got that name—were always uncertain quantities -in the household. Each was a law unto -himself. They came and went at their own -free will, giving no account of themselves. -Home was home to them. They appeared -there, sure of a welcome, whenever it suited -their convenience to do so. Sometimes all four -would be there; sometimes not one of them -would appear for months at a time. In either -case no questions were asked and no accounts -given. The boys were strong of limb, alert, -industrious, independent. They made their -own living by doing any sort of work that fell -in their way, and they envied no man his lot -or his possessions. They were types of a robust -citizenship of which the Trusts and the -Trades Unions—conspiracies both in restraint -alike of trade and of liberty—have left us -small trace in this modern world. -</p> - -<p> -Their ages varied from thirteen to nineteen -years; their height from five feet ten to six -feet three; their muscularity and their sturdy -self reliance not at all. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap16"></a> -XVI -<br /> -JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS -</h3> - -<p> -"Now come out here, Boyd," said -Judy when the supper was over. -"They's a full moon or purty nigh -onto it, an' it's a raisin', an' the weather's good -an' hot,—good fer growin' corn, an' not bad -fer apples an' pertaters. You an' me is a goin' -to have a good long talk. Take that there -rockin' chair an' make yourself comfortable, -like, 'cause I want to hear all about it." -</p> - -<p class="illustration"> -<a id="img-162"></a> -<img src="images/img-162.jpg" alt="Now come out here, Boyd." /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Now come out here, Boyd.</span>—<i>Page 161.</i> -</p> - -<p> -The rocking chairs sat upon a broad porch -or platform, for it had no roof over it, and the -rising moon flooded the place with light. -</p> - -<p> -"Now tell me all about it," said Judy when -the two were seated. -</p> - -<p> -It is to be said that Judy knew "all about -it" already, at least all about what had happened -up to a very few days before. It was -her habit to keep herself fully informed on all -subjects that interested her, and she was -mightily interested in everything that concerned -any Westover. -</p> - -<p> -Her loyalty to the Westovers had its own -reasons for being. These she never explained. -She rarely explained anything personal to herself. -But that loyalty was barbaric in its intensity -of devotion, savage in its vindictiveness -toward whatever and whomsoever antagonized -the Westovers, and recklessly relentless in its -manifestations. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as Boyd Westover fell into difficulties -in Richmond, she sent one of her henchmen -there with instructions to employ a lawyer to -keep her informed. When Boyd returned to -Wanalah she sent Edgar Coffey to the county -seat to report happenings and conditions. She -said to him: -</p> - -<p> -"Edgar, I has choosed you fer this job, bekase -o' several pints in your character. You -is slick an' sly, an' you ain't got no principles -to stand in your way, an' you seems to be -stupid, so's nobody'll suspect you or keep silent -when you's about. You kin lie so natural -like that nobody but me'd ever suspect you was -a lyin' at all. What you's got to do is to go -down there to the Court House on some sort -o' made up business like, an' hang 'round an' -listen, an' find out how the stuck-ups is -a treatin' Boyd Westover. Then you come -back here an' tell me 'bout it. Ef them stuckups -treats him fa'r an' squa'r like, it'll be all -right. Ef they don't, I'll make some of 'em -wisht they hadn't never 'a' been borned." This -last utterance was addressed only to herself. -</p> - -<p> -Edgar Coffey had returned on the evening -before Westover's arrival and his report had -included some account of Webb's boasting that -he had "declined to consider Boyd Westover -as a man entitled to the attention of a gentleman." -</p> - -<p> -"Now wait, Edgar," Judy said, when Coffey -reported this; "don't let your loose tongue -git away with you. Did you hear him say -that hisself—the durned little two-cent postage?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Judy, sure an' certain; an' everybody -down that way's a laughin' in their sleeves -'bout it. They says, says they, 'Why, ef Boyd -Westover was to git a real mad on him, that -feller wouldn't make a mouthful fer him.'" -</p> - -<p> -"No more would he," said Judy, addressing -herself. -</p> - -<p> -So Judy knew in advance the whole story -that she asked Westover to tell her; but she -wanted to hear his version of it and find out -his mood of mind concerning it, and so she -gave no sign of knowing anything. That was -Judy's way. -</p> - -<p> -Just as the two comfortably seated themselves -Theonidas—the thirteen year old son -of the house—emerged from within bearing -a tray on which were a stone jug, a vase-like -glass, containing honey in the comb, two tumblers -and a little array of spoons. -</p> - -<p> -"Now wait a minute, Boyd," said Judy as -she directed the placing of the tray on a table -that stood between her and Westover. "You's -got a lot o' durned temperance nonsense mixed -up with your good sense, but this is a 'ceptional -occasion; I ain't yit had a chanst to -drink to the new 'Westover of Wanalah,' nor -yit to congratulate you; an' besides that, they -ain't no harm in a glass o' peach an' honey -when I raised the honey an' made the peach -myself, an' specially when the peach is thirteen -year ole in the bar'l. So you an' me is a goin' -to have a glass o' peach an' honey together, -sich as folks don't often taste these days. -They was three bar'ls o' that there peach -brandy, when my husband, Marcellus, an' me -made it, thirteen year ago, an' that jug's got -the last drop that's left of it. An' the best of -it is they ain't never anybody but the best been -let to let it trickle down their throats. When -it were five year old I sold one bar'l of it to -Tom Griffin in Richmond, 'cause he never -would let anybody but the best have any of -it. When it were ten year old I give one bar'l -of it to your pappy, 'cause I jes' know'd what -sort o' folks he'd let drink it. You see the -peaches that year—thirteen year ago—was -extra superfine, an' I picked out the very best -of 'em for them three bar'ls o' brandy, an' they -ain't been no peach like it ever made in these -here mountings. So now you an' me's a goin' -to have a glass o' peach an' honey, an' sip it -slow like, while we talk, so's that we kin git -the taste in our throats an' all the way down. -You see, Boyd, they's tricks in makin' peach -jes' as they is in politics an' religion an' school -teachin' and gittin' married. They wa'n't no -trick when I got married, mind. I don't mean -that. Marcellus Peters was as good a man as -these here mountings ever raised, an' now he's -been dead more'n a dozen years I ain't got no -complaint to make 'bout him. Only he hadn't -much 'git there' in him. It didn't make much -difference, 'cause I could ten' to that part o' -the business myself. But he did know how to -make peach an' apple brandy. You see, Boyd, -they's tricks in makin' peach, as I was a sayin', -an' Marcellus he know'd all of 'em. I ain't -a sayin' he didn't work 'em off on folks as -didn't know nor care. He'd git a order fer -peach when he hadn't no peach, an' he'd fill -the order. He'd take ten pound or so o' dried -peaches an' set 'em to stew fer an hour or -so. Then he'd put 'em through the bung hole -of a bar'l o' apple brandy, an' let 'em 'sociate -with the brandy like, fer three or four days, -rollin' the bar'l now an' then to shake it up, -like. Then he'd draw that brandy off into another -bar'l, an' it was fine old peach. Same -with cherry brandy, or blackberry, an' the -stuck-ups didn't know the difference. But this -here peach is differenter. It was made of -peaches, good peaches, such as you'd smile to -eat, an' Tom Griffin was glad to pay me seven -dollars a gallon for the bar'l of it he got. I -reckon he'd pay twice that ef he could git another -bar'l of it now." -</p> - -<p> -Judy Peters was not talking without a definite -purpose. She never did that. Even when -her conversation rambled as it did on this -occasion, it rambled of set purpose and with -deliberate intent. This time her purpose was -to induce a like rambling impulse on Boyd -Westover's part, so that she might not only -hear from his lips the whole story of his tribulations, -but gather, by the wayside of his conversation -as it were, a clear impression of his -present mood and attitude of mind, something -which could not be gained by direct questioning. -</p> - -<p> -In all this the shrewdly wise old woman -succeeded, and when Boyd Westover bade her -good night as the clock struck twelve, she knew -all she wanted to know about him. After he -had gone to bed she lighted her pipe anew and -summed up her conclusions in the case of the -young man beneath her roof in reflections to -the following effect: -</p> - -<p> -"He's a feelin' it more'n's good fer him. -</p> - -<p> -"He's wrong in his mind or his liver or his -lights, an' the fust needfulness is to set 'em -right. -</p> - -<p> -"He's a doin' the right thing in a goin' -off up into the high mountings. It'll straighten -out the liver an' lights an' I'll make Theonidas -go with him, jes' to take the rough off, an' to -keep him in company like. That'll be healthier -fer him. -</p> - -<p> -"They's somethin' about a gal in the case, -but jes' naturally I couldn't git at that. Men -is sech fools 'bout women anyhow! A young -feller will pick one purty gal out'n a dozen, -all on 'em jes' as purty an' jes' as smart as she -is, an' ef she gives him the mitten he'll go -mournin' about, jes' as ef she was the onliest -tadpole in the puddle, while all the rest o' the -dozen purty gals is a standin' ready to make -as big a fool out'n him as ever she could 'a' -done. It's cur'ous but 'tain't to be helped no -way, I reckon. -</p> - -<p> -"Howsomever the thing to do is to git him -interested in somethin', an' I kin manage that. -He'll git healthy like, up thar' in the high -mountings, an' by the time he comes back I'll -git somethin' ready fer him to do." -</p> - -<p> -Boyd was already better in spirits when he -greeted the sun the next morning from the -top of a hill near Judy's place. The air of -the mountains had been good for him. Better -still had been Judy's cordiality and her naturalness. -After all his depression had been rooted -in the artificialities of human association, and -in Judy Peters's company there was no such -artificiality. She had not hesitated to interrupt -his narrative of events at various points -to tell him that in this or that particular he had -been a "darned fool," or a "frosted potater -vine," or a "dod dasted idjit," or something -else of the sort that she thought helpful to her -endeavor to bring him back to a healthy mental -condition. -</p> - -<p> -Her main reliance for his restoration to -normality, however, was in getting something -strenuous for him to do. "Hard work's the -calomel he needs, an' a good hard fight's his -quinine. It'll cure his chills, an' I'll git it ready -fer him." -</p> - -<p> -With that determination fixed in her mind, -Judy knocked the ashes out of her pipe, covered -up the kitchen fire, set some roe herrings to -soak, and went to bed. Sleep was to her -healthy soul a matter of course. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap17"></a> -XVII -<br /> -JUDY INFORMS HERSELF AND MAKES PLANS -</h3> - -<p> -It was well past midsummer when Westover -after a stay of three days went -from Judy Peters's place up into the -higher and more desolate parts of the mountain -region. He was accompanied by Theonidas, -whose instructions from his mother were -minute and explicit. -</p> - -<p> -"B'ar in mind, Theonidas," she said to him -in an intimate conversation, "as how your -duty's to keep him busy with things outsiden' -hisself. He's got too many books 'long with -him, but they's good ef he don't git to readin' -of 'em by daylight. You's got to look out fer -that. Ef you find him a readin' an' a broodin' -by daylight, you jes' find out somethin' 'bout -a b'ar or a catamount hangin' round, an' git -him to lookin' fer that. An' ef he gits to -readin' too late o' nights, showin' as how his -min's oneasy like, you kin git up a night hunt -or somethin' like that, or ef that don't work -you kin go out an' yell like a painter till he gits -his gun." -</p> - -<p> -A "painter," in mountain parlance, meant -a panther, or more properly the mountain lion, -a catlike, predatory beast between whom and -the mountaineers there was eternal war. -</p> - -<p> -"Anyhow, Theonidas," concluded Judy, -"you ain't no fool, an' now as you knows my -intentions, you's to carry 'em out. Keep him -a goin'. Keep him busy. Keep him so durned -tired that he can't help sleepin' o' nights. -That's your cawntract. Ef he gits contrary an' -won't git sleepy an' you can't think o' nothin' -else to do, jes' you set down an' tell him a lot -o' your yarns. He's too perlite not to let you -talk on, an' I ain't never knowed nothin' as -would put a feller to sleep quicker'n one o' your -yarns, Theonidas." -</p> - -<p> -In the event there proved to be no need of -the soporific influence of Theonidas's yarns. -Westover had gone into the mountains to distract -his mind with sport, and he pursued that -purpose ceaselessly by day and by night. He -would hunt deer, bears, turkeys, squirrels, -pheasants and every other species of game as -it came into the advancing season, throughout -the day, and at night after a campfire dinner -which he cooked for himself, he and Theonidas -would go eagerly in quest of night prowlers—'coons, -'possums, and painters. Now and then -he would send Theonidas down the mountain -with a present of game for Judy, while he -himself exercised his wits in controversy with -a certain wily old trout that was accustomed -to jeer at him from one or another pool of -the stream that flowed by the cabin door. -Sometimes he sent a haunch of venison, a half -dozen pheasants or a brace of young wild turkey -gobblers, with a request that Judy should -arrange for their delivery to Carley Farnsworth, -a commission he knew she would execute -to the letter. -</p> - -<p> -In brief, young Westover was growing -healthy of mind and body again, while the -books he had brought with him to serve as -a means of killing time lay unopened in the -log cabin where he slept for long hours at such -times as physical weariness forbade him further -to follow the sports of the glorious out of -doors. -</p> - -<p> -In the meanwhile Judy Peters was maturing -her plans. She kept Edgar Coffey most of the -time in the plantation part of the county, with -instructions to find out how the people down -there felt toward Westover, and who among -them might be trusted to aid her in a project -she had formed, when the time should be ripe -for its execution. As a result of Edgar's -mousing inquiries and her own shrewd skill in -discriminating between truth and falsehood in -his periodical reports, Judy Peters knew more -about sentiment in the piedmont region than -anybody there did, not excepting William Wilberforce -Webb, whose personal concern it was -to inform himself accurately as to that. She -knew, as Webb did not, that the great majority -of the men of Westover's own class—the men -of assured social position—were strongly disposed -to regard his misfortune with generous -sympathy, while those of less well assured -standing were disposed to shrug shoulders and -give hints of doubt. -</p> - -<p> -She learned one thing, however, that -troubled her a good deal. Among those of -Westover's own class there was a vague, undefined -but none the less hurtful suspicion that -he had somehow failed of manly chivalry in his -treatment of Margaret Conway. The suspicion -had its origin in the fact that Colonel Conway -would in no way discuss Westover's case or -express any opinion concerning him or his conduct. -On the other hand it lacked definiteness -for the same reason. If there were no truth -in it, people argued, Colonel Conway would -certainly plant a heavy heel upon the rumor -as an act of simple justice to a falsely accused -young man; if there were truth in it, it was -difficult to understand why Colonel Conway did -not call the young man to account in some -way. -</p> - -<p> -Of all these conditions Judy was fully informed -and when the autumn came, with the -general election in prospect, she directed Edgar -Coffey to find out definitely concerning the -prospective "enominations," as she and all the -rest of the mountain folk called them. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that there fadey calico feller, Webb, a -goin' to be enominated fer State senator from -our distric'," she asked of her emissary when -he returned from his mission. -</p> - -<p> -"No, he's a strikin' higher like. He's a -goin' to be enominated fer State senator from -this distric'; in fac' he's enominated a'ready, -an' he's mighty proud like over it." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, well, what's he a sayin' 'bout it?" -</p> - -<p> -"He says as he's got the reg'lar Whig enomination, -an' as this is a strong Whig distric', -he's got the 'lection sure." -</p> - -<p> -Judy sat silent for awhile. Then she asked: -</p> - -<p> -"Is he a standin' on one leg while he's a -waitin' fer it, Edgar? 'Case ef he is he's a -goin' to git mighty tired 'fore he gits the other -foot down. You tramp over to Marcellus -McGrath's this evenin' an' tell him I want to -see him to-morrer mornin', sure. Tell him I've -got a job fer him, an' don't fergit to say he's -to do it with his head. Ef he thought 'twas -work, he would forgit to come. Git along -now. Time's money you know, though you -can't never git nobody to give you silver -change fer it." -</p> - -<p> -Marcellus McGrath was the mountain -schoolmaster, who read everything from -quack medicine almanacs to patent office reports, -remembered everything he read to the -last detail, and never in his life made the smallest -use of the information with which the lumber -room he called his mind was packed full. -Facts were everything to him; the significance -of facts had never occurred to him as a thing -worthy of consideration. -</p> - -<p> -He came promptly in response to Judy's -summons, and he brought with him his big, -shaggy headful of unrelated facts and figures, -more securely lodged in his memory than in -any book of reference or any table of statistics. -</p> - -<p> -Judy "tapped him," as she described the -process, as soon as he had lighted his pipe after -a barbaric feast of fried chicken, jowl and -greens, pot cheese, green corn, batter bread, -cold ham, tomatoes, souse, roast venison from -Westover's camp, cucumbers, onions, apple -butter, rice pudding, apple dumplings, and ice -cream. -</p> - -<p> -By way of explanation to Sapphira, while -the meal was in process of preparation, she had -said: -</p> - -<p> -"Mark McGrath don't git none too much to -eat at home, I reckon, an' I'm a goin' to pump -enough facts an' figgers out'n him to leave -room for the other things." -</p> - -<p> -But she did not begin the pumping process -until McGrath's pipe was comfortably lighted, -and then she did so gently at first. She had -placed a slate and pencil on a table by his side, -so that he might "figger out" anything she -wanted elucidated. -</p> - -<p> -"How many voters is they in this here senate -distric'?" she asked him to begin with; -and he gave the figures promptly. -</p> - -<p> -"Set that down on the slate," she directed, -and the order was obeyed. -</p> - -<p> -"'Bout how many o' them is planters' votes—countin' -in the overseers an' the rest o' them -as always votes the way the planters tells 'em -to?" -</p> - -<p> -McGrath thought for a brief while and then -gave his estimate. -</p> - -<p> -"How many of 'em is Democratic votes?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, the district is almost solidly Whig. -The Democratic vote is really a negligible -quantity," the schoolmaster, beginning to feel -his importance, replied. -</p> - -<p> -"I ain't a fishin' fer big words, Mark. I's -a huntin' fer facts. Don't you make no mistake -about that. Now, tell me, how many -Democratic votes was they in the last election?" -</p> - -<p> -So she went on with her catechism, making -her interlocutor set down on the slate such figures -as she wished to use in her calculations. -With these as factors she made the schoolmaster -do a deal of abstruse reckoning, the purport -and purpose of which he could not at all -conjecture, but the results of which seemed to -satisfy her, as she said at the end of it all: -</p> - -<p> -"It kin be did, an' by the Hokey Pokey -Fenokey it's a goin' to be did. That little -worm-eaten, blossom-blasted chestnut of a -Webb'll wish he hadn't never let go of his hold -on the tree when Judy Peters gits through with -him. Say, Mark, what does William Wilberforce -mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"It's a name," McGrath began. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know that. But what does it mean? -Whose name was it fust off? An' what was -it he done? An' how'd that miserable little -bob-tailed rooster Webb git a hold onto it?" -</p> - -<p> -Judy's antagonisms were implacable, and -they were apt to find expression in her epithets -and her metaphors. She knew next to nothing -of Webb, and she had permitted her mountaineers -to vote for him at the last preceding election. -But now that she recognized in him an -enemy of Boyd Westover, she hated him with -an intensity and an unreason possible only to -a nature such as hers, in which the primal passions -of humanity had yielded themselves to -no chastening of circumstance or civilization. -</p> - -<p> -McGrath, to whom no hint of Judy's purposes -had been given, answered her questions -as if reading from a cyclopædia: -</p> - -<p> -"William Wilberforce was an Englishman, -celebrated as a philanthropist and especially -distinguished by his work for the abolition of -negro slavery. He was known in England as -'the great abolitionist.'" -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right," said Judy with a grunt -of satisfaction. "I ain't got no way o' findin' -out how that bow-legged hoppergrass, Webb, -got a holt'n the name, but he'll wish't he hadn't -'fore I git through with him. Now, Mark, I -want you to write down jes' what you's tole -me—no more an' no less—'bout that there -abolitionist Wilberforce. Jest write it down -on paper an' leave it." -</p> - -<p> -"What are you up to, Judy, anyhow?" -McGrath ventured to ask. -</p> - -<p> -"That's what the queen bee axed the b'ar -when he clum' the bee tree, an' the b'ar says: -'I'm up to the hole that's got the honey in -it'." -</p> - -<p> -And Judy vouchsafed no further explanation -of her purposes. -</p> - -<p> -Next day she sent for Edgar Coffey and -questioned him. -</p> - -<p> -"Who's this here Don Carlos Farnsworth -that Westover's always a sendin' game to? -Do you know him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. He's a white man." -</p> - -<p> -In the parlance of Virginia at that time there -was no phrase that meant so much as that. To -say of one that he was "a white man" was -to say that he was honest, upright, true and -loyal to the tips of his fingers. Judy perfectly -understood and so far was satisfied. -</p> - -<p> -"Kin he talk?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Well I reckon. I ain't never seed him -when he was a doin' anything else. Words -streams out'n him like water out'n a spoutin' -spring, an' they's the sort o' words that wallops -you all up an' don't leave you no chanst to -argify." -</p> - -<p> -"You go down thar to-morrow, Edgar, an' -tell him please to come up here jes' as quick -as he kin, an' have dinner an' a night's lodgin' -like. Tell him I want to see him 'bout Boyd -Westover, an' ef he backs an' pulls on the halter -like, you tell him I say Boyd's in a bad way -in certain respec's. Remember to say 'in certain -respec's.' Ef you don't you'll mislead -him." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not write him a letter, Judy, an' let -me carry it? Then you'd be sure." -</p> - -<p> -"I ain't a writin' no letters. You see's long -as you jes' send word like, they ain't nothin' -for anybody to git a hold on. Nobody kin be -sure you said jest them words, and nobody -kin prove you didn't say 'em jes' a little differenter. -But ef you put yourself down in writin' -they's got you. No, I ain't a writin' nothin', -partic'lar when I's got a hen on the nest fer -some feller. So you jes' go down there to-morrow -an' tell Don Carlos Farnsworth I'm -a invitin' him up here on Boyd Westover's -account. Ef he says he'll come, you hain't got -no need to say no more. But ef he backs in -the traces like, you jes' tell him what I tole -you about Boyd a bein' in a bad way in certain -respec's. Remember them words an' say 'em -right—'<i>in certain respec's</i>.'" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap18"></a> -XVIII -<br /> -JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN -</h3> - -<p> -Judy's summons brought Carley Farnsworth -up into the mountains within the -fewest possible hours after she gave it to -her emissary to deliver. For Carley Farnsworth -was Westover's friend, and in Virginia -at that time friendship meant a readiness to -serve at any cost or hazard. -</p> - -<p> -It was nearing supper time when Farnsworth -appeared at Judy's hospitable door and -introduced himself. -</p> - -<p> -"This is Mrs. Peters, I suppose?" he said -as she confronted him. -</p> - -<p> -"Judy Peters is my name," she answered -in that spirit of mountain democracy which -scorns titles and distinctions and shams of -every other sort. -</p> - -<p> -Farnsworth was quick to catch the underlying -significance of her correction and both -diplomacy and humor prompted him to play -the game as she wanted it played. -</p> - -<p> -"That's what I hoped for," he responded -quickly; "for Judy Peters is the very person -I most want to see in all the world just now. -I am Carley Farnsworth, Judy. Of course -Boyd has written the name 'Don Carlos' every -time he has sent me game through you, and -so you don't know me as 'Carley,' but that's -what I am to all my friends, and I count you -as one of the best of them because you're a -friend of Boyd Westover, just as I am." -</p> - -<p> -"Now that's spoke up like a real, natural -young feller, an' not like a drasted stuck-up," -responded Judy, shaking hands and bestowing -him in a porch chair where a minute later she -pressed a toddy of apple brandy upon his acceptance, -as a sure cure for the weariness he -must feel after his trapes up the mountain. -</p> - -<p> -As he sipped the seductive beverage he and -she talked. But neither alluded even in the -most distant way to the occasion for his visit -or to Judy's summons, or to anything else relating -to Boyd Westover. They were both -fencing for position. Each wanted to "size -up" the other, before approaching matters of -confidence and consequence. But by the time -Judy's generous supper was at an end these -two understood each other and each trusted -the other. Judy had told him how many -"hawgs" she sent down the mountain every -year to be sold to planters, to be corn fed for -three weeks, and converted into hams, bacon, -souse, and all the rest of the good things in -which Virginian appetites revelled. She had -told him how many "bar'ls" of apple brandy -she made "in a average year," how much -cider, how much vinegar, and where her market -was for all these things. Incidentally she -had given him her picturesque opinions upon -many questions of human character, life and -conduct, and he in his turn had told her everything -he could think of, concerning himself. -</p> - -<p> -"Now you an' me's acquainted," Judy said -when she thought the time ripe for the revelation -of her plans. "You's the sort o' feller -to git acquainted with, easy an' natural like, -'case you ain't got nothin' to keep up your -sleeve, an' you ain't got up in a lot o' shams -an' frills. You is straight goods, Carley, all -wool, a yard wide an' dyed in the hanks. May -be it's 'cause you's a real 'ristocrat what don't -need to keep on tellin' 'bout it." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you for the compliment, Judy," -said Farnsworth, interrupting. -</p> - -<p> -"They ain't no compliment to thank anybody -for," she replied. "They ain't never no -compliments a flyin' about when Judy Peters -is mixed up in the talk; or ef they is they's -purty apt to git holes punched in 'em. Ef I -thought you was a palaverin' liar, Carley, I'd -tell you so straight out. Ef I thought you was -a feller what would say one thing an' do another, -you'd hear that opinion from Judy -Peters's lips, an' what's more you wouldn't -hear none o' the things I axed you to come up -here to hear about. Now le's git down to business, -as the feller said when the sheriff was -slow about a hangin' of him. You see, Carley, -Boyd Westover's had a shakin' up, an' he ain't -right in his sperits. He's got a notion into his -head that folks is down on him an' all that. -S'long as he's up there a huntin' an' fishin' an' -listenin' to Theonidas's yarns an' sleepin' tight -he's all right. But that notion 'bout folks a -bein' down on him is still a stickin' in his mind, -like mutton gravy sticks in the roof of your -mouth, an' you an' me's got to cure him of it. -I's already laid out plans, an' ef you're game -to help me, we'll rub that thing off'n his slate." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm game to help you, Judy, in any way -you like. You may bet all the apple brandy -you've got on that." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that a hint, like? Does you want another -nip? 'Cause ef you do, it'll be here -quicker'n lightnin'." -</p> - -<p> -"No, Judy. I don't want another dram, -and I never indulge in hints, especially with a -straightforward person like you. If I wanted -a drink I'd tell you so, but in fact I hardly ever -taste liquor of any sort, and that toddy you -gave me was the first I've sipped in a year or -more." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, it's curious, but they's a good many -young men nowadays as don't take to their -drams natural like. I s'pose it's all right, but -I don't understand it. Anyhow, that's no matter. -As I was a sayin', Boyd Westover's got -that notion in his head 'bout folks a bein' down -on him, an' it'll come back to him when the -snow drives him down out'n the mountings. -Now the way to cure him of it's to git him -'lected to somethin', an' I's got the somethin' -picked out. When he fin's as folks has voted -for him agin t'other feller, he jes' naturally -can't go on a thinkin' folks is down on him. -See?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I see that, and your idea is a good -one, Judy, if we can get him to run for some -office." -</p> - -<p> -"Git him to run? We won't ax him. We'll -jes' run him ourselves, an' we'll 'lect him too, -ef the big figgers tops the little ones as I's -always seed 'em do in a 'lection count." -</p> - -<p> -Judy was apt to be confident in her predictions, -chiefly for the reason that she never -made a prediction till she knew all the facts -that might bear in any way upon its fulfilment. -</p> - -<p> -"That's what I wanted to see you about, -Carley. This is the way of it. You kin help, -an' I'm a bettin' my fingers agin fishhooks -you'll do it." -</p> - -<p> -"It's a good bet, Judy," he interrupted. -"I'd do anything imaginable for Westover, -and, now that I know you, I'd do even more -than that for you. Go on. What's your -plan?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you see that measly little soap-locked -sap-head, William Wilberforce Webb—they's -more name to the man than man to -the name—has gone an' got hisself enominated -fer the Senate. That suits me down to -the ground. You an' me is a goin' to beat him -out'n his boots, an' 'lect Westover in his stid. -That's the game an' the way the wind blows, -an' the lay o' the land." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Judy, can we do it? You see Webb -has secured the regular Whig nomination, and -this is a strong Whig district." -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right," answered Judy, confident -of the "figgerin'" she had made Marcellus -McGrath do on her slate. "You see it's this -a'way. The Democrats ain't got no chanst to -'lect a man o' their own, but they're a layin' -low to rip the righteousness out'n the reg'lar -Whig candidate ef they git the chanst, an' you -an' me's a goin' to give 'em the chanst. We'll -enominate Westover as a 'Independent Whig -candidate' an' every Democrat in the distric' -'ll vote for him. They won't be no Democrat -candidate." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you sure of that, Judy? With two -Whigs running they might think they had a -chance to slip a Democrat in." -</p> - -<p> -"They mout, of course, but they won't," -answered Judy, confidently. "I's seen to that. -You don't s'pose Judy Peters was borned day -before yesterday, do you, Carley?" Then, -without waiting for him to protest a greater -respect for her age and experience, she continued: -</p> - -<p> -"Shouldn't wonder ef the Democrats got -some local offices this year. You see the mounting -vote is uncertain. Anyhow, they won't -enominate anybody for the Senate; or, yes -they will. They's a makin' the enomination -to-day. But after you an' me has got Westover -a goin' their candidate will withdraw hisself -an' urge all Democrats to vote fer Westover -an' 'lect him. You see the Democrat vote -is a leetle more'n twenty-five per cent. in this -Senate distric'. I got Marcellus McGrath to -figger that out. An' twenty-five per cent. is -a quarter, Mark says, an' he knows. Now the -vote up here in the mountings is more'n half -o' the whole, 'cause us folks up here raises -more children than the planter people does. -They ain't no profit in boastin', but I kin tell -you jes' confidential like, that ef Judy Peters -lets her tongue git too loose an' the secret slips -out that she wants Boyd Westover 'lected, you -could count on your fingers an' toes the votes -the other feller'd git up here in the mountings. -Seems to me like a sure thing, Carley." -</p> - -<p> -With that Judy chuckled in satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -"But you've hearn talk o' 'moral effec',' -haven't you, Carley?" -</p> - -<p> -Farnsworth intimated that he had some -small perception of the meaning of the terms, -and Judy went on: -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what you an' me's a playin' for is -moral effec' on Boyd Westover. As fer 'lectin' -him, they won't be no trouble 'bout that. But -ef the moral effec' is to be strong, we mus' git -the biggest vote we kin for him down among -the plantation people. Fust off, then, he's got -to be enominated by that sort o' folks, without -no hint o' Judy Peters or the mountings in it. -That's your fust job. You go down there, -sayin nothin' 'bout Judy Peters or the mountings, -an' git a lot o' the stuck-ups to jine you -in enominatin' him." -</p> - -<p> -In those days the "Reformers" who plead -for independence in politics had not yet invented -their ingenious devices for compelling -the voter to make a choice of evils in deciding -for whom he would vote. There were no -such things as "official ballots" limiting the -choice of the voter to men formally nominated. -Every man was free, as every man everywhere -ought to be, to vote for whomsoever he pleased -without consulting an "Australian" ballot -sheet to find out what men he was permitted -to vote for. And any man who aspired to -office was at liberty to announce his candidacy -in person or through friends as an appeal to -his fellow citizens for their free suffrages, without -asking permission of any caucus or boss -or primary or convention, and without the -necessity of spending money corruptly in order -to secure the privilege of being voted for if his -fellow citizens wished to vote for him. -</p> - -<p> -Judy continued: -</p> - -<p> -"When you git all the big-bug signatures -you kin, jest send a nigger round to post up the -enomination papers everywhere. Have 'em -printed, Carley, 'cause print sort o' carries -weight, an' printin' don't cost much, an' even -ef it did, 'twouldn't make no difference, 'cause -I'd pay the bill." -</p> - -<p> -"You can't do that, Judy. Westover's -friends down there'll attend to that. I'll have -twenty or twenty-five signatures to the paper, -and I'll have five or six hundred printed, so as -to post one on every gate post and every tree -that anybody's likely to look at. How many -do you want, for use in the mountains?" -</p> - -<p> -"None at all! Not one!" answered Judy, -emphatically. "They won't be needed up here, -'cause I'm a takin' care o' the mounting vote, -an' I ain't a sayin' nothin'. Let 'em keep a -guessin' 'bout how the mountings is a goin' -till they hears the answer to the riddle when -the polls is closed. You see ef they find out -the mountings is agin 'em they'll try to do -somethin' up here, an' ef they's uncertain they -won't care to stir up things. But besides all -that, there's the drymatic climax to think of. -Tom Hardaway tole me all about that wunst, -so I know what a drymatic climax is, an' I -mean to have one this time, jest for the sake -o' that banty rooster, William Wilberforce -Webb, who'll find all his tail feathers pulled -out by the roots when the 'lection's over." -</p> - -<p> -It will perhaps be inferred from Judy's utterances -that her hatreds were implacable as -her likings were limitless. For explanation it -is only necessary to remember that Judy Peters -was an entirely natural person, unaffected by -any of the agencies of civilization. To her, in -sentiment and emotion, compromises were as -impossible as concessions; qualifications as unthinkable -as cowardice itself—and there was -no cowardice in Judy. Toward those whose -conduct had aroused neither animosity nor -affection in her soul, she was always fair with -a frankness that had no hypocrisy and no reserve -in it; toward those whom she cherished -as friends her loyalty was of a sort that knew -no bounds and asked no questions; toward -those whom she recognized as her enemies, and -still more toward those who were the enemies -of her friends, she cherished a malevolence that -knew no mercy and that stopped at nothing -in the accomplishment of its malignant purposes. -</p> - -<p> -Such was Judy—a typical representative of -the human animal in his untamed and natural -state. -</p> - -<p> -"Then they's another thing, Carley, an' it's -fust an' foremost in my thinkin'." -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Judy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, it's this aways. You see you an' -me's a workin' an' a plannin' to bring Westover -round all right again. Now the 'lection -'11 do a mighty sight that way, but 'twon't do -it all. What Boyd needs is a good, hard fight, -an' that's what you an' me's got to give him. -He ain't to know nothin' 'bout the way the -'lection's a goin' when he hears of his enomination. -He ain't to know as how Judy Peters -had anything to do with it. He's jest to be -told as how a lot o' you stuck-ups has enominated -him, and how nobody knows where he's -a been, an' how they's a sayin' an' a insinuatin' -all sorts o' things, an' specially that he's afeard -to face his constituents. That'll stir up all the -fightin' blood they is in him, an' they's apt to -be a lot o' that sort o' blood in a Westover. -It'll set him hot when he gits down your way, -an' from then tell the 'lection's over he'll fight -like a catamount when a dozen hounds gits -him cornered. That's what he needs, an' when -the thing's over, an' he fin's himself 'lected by -a large majority, an' sees that water-soaked -piece o' cheap soap that calls hisself William -Wilberforce Webb a slinkin' off into his hole -like a drownded rat, he won't git to thinkin' -agin' that folks is down on him." -</p> - -<p> -Judy's metaphors were a trifle mixed perhaps, -but her rhetoric had behind it an intensity -and a sincerity of purpose that left her auditor -in no doubt as to her meaning. -</p> - -<p> -"Judy, you're a brick!" exclaimed Carley -Farnsworth rising and grasping her hand. -"You've got blood in your veins, and sand in -your gizzard, and a headpiece on your shoulders. -I'm with you, all over and clear through. -I'm going back down the mountain to-morrow -morning. I'll get the nomination papers out, -and I'll speak three times a day for Westover. -I never made a speech in my life, but I can do -it now, and all between the speeches I'll talk. -The words'll flow out of me like water through -a mill-tail. And one thing more, Judy; I'm -a little fellow, as you know. I don't weigh -a hundred and ten pounds, I'm only five feet -three in my shoes, but I can pull a trigger. -I'll see to it that nobody says anything shameful -about Boyd Westover without being called -to an interview with me at ten paces." -</p> - -<p> -So was the compact made. Judy went inside -and brewed a bowl of hot apple toddy -which she insisted that Carley should share -with her "jes' to bind the bargain," she said, -and Carley, unused as he was to such indulgence, -took the risk of a next morning's headache -by drinking fair with her. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap19"></a> -XIX -<br /> -THE BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN -</h3> - -<p> -Carley Farnsworth never did -anything by halves. His methods were -those of one engaged in killing snakes. -When he undertook the accomplishment of a -purpose he tirelessly left nothing undone that -might in the smallest degree assist in that accomplishment. -</p> - -<p> -In this case he appealed personally and -quietly to all the planters in the district to aid -in the choice of a man of their own class to -represent them in the upper house of the Legislature, -instead of a shifty lawyer of "insecure -antecedents, unripened position, and as yet unproved -character." That was the careful -phrase he had framed for use while trudging -down the mountain, and he used it so effectively -that he soon had a score of the most influential -names in all that region appended to -his announcement of Boyd Westover's candidacy. -</p> - -<p> -But he was not satisfied with that. He reminded -the two store keepers at the Court -House that Westover's constituency represented -in a large degree the purchasing capacity -of the region, and the two store keepers, alert -to conserve their own interests, not only signed -the nomination announcement, but secured a -number of other and humbler signatures, and -made of their stores a species of campaigning -centres in Westover's interest, thus giving a -needed flavor of democracy to the aristocratic -appeal to the planters to "choose for their -senator a man whose character, attainments -and social position render him fitly representative -of the district and its people." -</p> - -<p> -Carley Farnsworth was a doctor in large -practice. As such he was versed in what he -called "the gospel of keeping the mouth shut." -Accordingly he made his preliminary canvas -silently, secretly and with so little ostentation -that neither Webb nor any of his friends -dreamed of what was going on. Their first -intimation of it was the discovery one morning -that the nominating placards were posted on -the court house doors, all over the fronts of -all the blacksmiths' and wheelrights' shops, on -all the school houses, on the posts of every gate -that was licensed to obstruct a public road, and -upon every conspicuous tree in the piedmont -part of the Senate district. -</p> - -<p> -For Carley Farnsworth had adopted Judy -Peters's view of "drymatic effect," and had -had all his placards posted between midnight -and morning of a single day. -</p> - -<p> -The dramatic effect was instantly apparent. -All tongues were set wagging and before another -night came everybody in the region -round about knew that Boyd Westover was -a candidate for the Senate, nominated in his -absence and supported by many of the most -influential men in the community. -</p> - -<p> -What it meant, nobody knew, and everybody -asked everybody else. Those who asked Carley -Farnsworth got for reply: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it is only that some of us think we -ought to have a fitter man than Webb to represent -us in the Senate, and we've nominated -Westover without his knowledge or consent." -</p> - -<p> -"But where is he?" was sure to be the next -question. "Is he afraid to face the public?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," Carley answered in every case. "If -you get it into your head that Boyd Westover -is afraid of anything or anybody, you'll be as -badly mistaken as if you'd burnt your boots. -He's away on a hunting and fishing expedition, -just now, and he knows nothing of his nomination. -When we notify him of it he'll be here -to face anything or anybody, and in the meanwhile -there are some others of us who are prepared -to do any 'facing' that may be necessary." -</p> - -<p> -This last utterance was intended to check -unfavorable references to Boyd Westover's unfortunate -experience, and it was in the main -effective. For Carley Farnsworth, small as he -was, had a reputation as a fighting force of no -mean pretensions. Three times he had met -antagonists on the duelling field. On one of -those occasions he had seriously wounded his -foe, and then had tenderly cared for him, nursing -him back to health in his own house. On -the two other occasions his antagonists had -apologized. In still another case Carley had -shown a loftier courage. After accepting a -challenge he had said to his seconds: -</p> - -<p> -"I am satisfied that I'm in the wrong in this -matter. I was entirely sincere in making the -charge for which I am challenged, but I made -it upon misinformation, and I am prepared to -withdraw and apologize for it. Communicate -that decision to my antagonist. If he still -wants a shot at me, he can have it of course." -</p> - -<p> -Such was Carley Farnsworth, and in view -of the veiled warning his words gave, it was -felt that an extreme discretion in discussing -matters pertaining to Westover's candidacy -was, to say the least, desirable. -</p> - -<p> -Yet Webb and his friends felt that something -must be done to stem the tide created -by the Westover nomination. The names appended -to it were those of such men that their -support of any candidacy in opposition, seriously -imperilled Webb's chance of election, -which until then had been regarded as a foregone -conclusion that needed no looking after. -</p> - -<p> -"Something must be done," and the fact -that Colonel Conway's signature was conspicuously -absent from the nomination paper, suggested -the nature of that "something." It was -known that The Oaks and Wanalah were adjoining -plantations; that the Conways and -the Westovers had been the closest intimates -for generations; that Colonel Conway had -wearied all ears with his eulogiums of Westover's -gallantry in rescuing his daughter in -time of peril. Why then was Colonel Conway's -name absent from a list that it should -naturally have headed? Was it that he believed -in Westover's guilt in spite of the revealed -facts, as some others professed to do? -Or was there truth in the rumor, which was -vaguely floating about, that Westover had -jilted Colonel Conway's daughter? -</p> - -<p> -That last suggestion was quickly negatived -in all well ordered minds by the certain knowledge -that if Westover or any other man on -earth had been guilty of such offence toward -a daughter of the house of Conway, the head -of that house would have horse-whipped the -offender in public and at the point of a pistol. -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless there remained the fact that -Colonel Conway's name did not appear among -those nominating Boyd Westover, and that fact -greatly encouraged Webb and his adherents -when they found that they must fight tooth and -nail for an election which they had deemed -secure beyond the necessity of endeavor of any -sort. They set to work, not so much to find -out the reason for Colonel Conway's refusal -of his name, as to insinuate conjectural solutions -of that riddle that might be hurtfully -whispered into doubting ears. -</p> - -<p> -"There must be something wrong in that -quarter." -</p> - -<p> -"It isn't easy to explain." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course Colonel Conway has his reasons, -even if he doesn't give them." -</p> - -<p> -"If there wasn't something wrong, why -didn't Colonel Conway put his name first on -the list?" -</p> - -<p> -These, and like things could be said without -incurring a challenge from Carley Farnsworth's -wrath, and they were diligently and -hurtfully said; hurtfully because in that community -the least suspicion that a man had been -other than chivalrous in his treatment of a -woman was damning beyond the possibility of -forgiving. -</p> - -<p> -This thing troubled Carley Farnsworth -more than he liked to admit even to himself. -A good many signatures had been denied to -his nominating paper on the sole ground that -Colonel Conway had refused to sign it, and the -absence of his signature was the one effective -plea of Webb and his followers. -</p> - -<p> -When Carley Farnsworth had gone to Colonel -Conway to ask his aid, the sturdy old -planter had replied: -</p> - -<p> -"I have reasons of my own for not signing -your paper, Dr. Farnsworth. Please do not -ask me what they are." -</p> - -<p> -To that there was no possible response. The -request with which the Colonel concluded his -reply made a peremptory end of the conversation -so far as that subject was concerned, and -so Carley Farnsworth talked of crops and the -curing of hams instead. -</p> - -<p> -But Carley Farnsworth felt that this doubt, -this question, this suspicion, was a seriously -undermining influence in his campaign for his -friend, which there was no means of meeting -in Boyd Westover's absence. For, in whispers -and by questions that could not be challenged -as assertions, Webb and his followers were -suggesting that Colonel Conway was only -waiting for Westover's return before making -public the reasons that impelled him to withhold -his approval of his neighbor's candidacy, -and that the fear of Colonel Conway's wrath -was the real reason for Boyd Westover's continued -absence. -</p> - -<p> -Carley's first impulse was to write to Judy -Peters, telling her that Boyd's presence was -necessary and giving her the reasons. But -upon reflection he decided that this was a case -in which Judy's objection to "puttin' things -down in writin'" was peculiarly applicable and -valid. So he sought converse with Edgar Coffey, -who, under Judy's instructions, was "a -hangin' round" the lower parts of the district, -and confided to him the urgent and explanatory -message he wished Judy to receive. -</p> - -<p> -On receipt of the message, Judy acted -promptly, but in her own way. To Edgar -Coffey she said: -</p> - -<p> -"You go home now, an' look after things -there. You's got nine good hogs to kill this -fall an' your wife's a feedin' 'em on apples. -Your wife's purty, Edgar, an' her ways is -pleasin', but she ain't got the sense she was -borned with. She mixes the strippin's with the -milk jes' as ef strippin's wa'n't purty nigh the -same as cream, an' she hitches a horse to the -body of a tree, 'stead of a swingin' limb, so's -the beast can break the halter an' go home, -leavin' her to walk. She done that at church -only two weeks ago come nex' Sunday. An' -now she's a feedin' hogs on apples when she -orter be a givin' 'em corn to harden the meat -fer killin' time. So you better go home an' -fix things. I'll ten' to the rest." -</p> - -<p> -Edgar was grievously disappointed. He -had confidently hoped to be himself Judy's -messenger to Boyd Westover, but Judy was -much too sagacious to permit that. -</p> - -<p> -"Boyd'll ax questions," she reflected, -"'cause he'll be full o' wonderment 'bout this -here thing, an' Edgar mout let the right answers -slip out. Theonidas can't do that, 'cause -he don't know nothin' 'bout the answers." -</p> - -<p> -She expected Theonidas to visit her that evening -to secure a bag of corn meal that she -knew he and Boyd sorely needed. She would -send her message by Theonidas, therefore, and -would leave the message to take the place of -the meal. -</p> - -<p> -It was supper time when Theonidas arrived, -bringing a wild turkey gobbler and a dozen -squirrels on his back. -</p> - -<p> -"Them's all right," said Judy, feeling of -the game. "Tell Boyd he'd orter 'a' saved -'em to take to Wanalah to-morrow. He'll be -a entertainin' folks there an' it 'ud 'a' been -handy to have some game in the house." -</p> - -<p> -"He ain't a thinkin' o' comin' down the -mounting yit," replied the boy in open eyed -wonder. -</p> - -<p> -"I know he ain't," Judy replied. "But -when you git back up there to-night—an' -you's a goin' to start back soon's you git yer -supper—he'll <i>be</i> a thinkin' about it, an' 'twon't -take much thinkin' to set them legs o' his'n a -movin'. You come an' git your supper, an' -then mosey up the mounting as fast as yer feet -kin foller one another. An' you're to tell Boyd -that they's the devil to pay an' no funds, down -Wanalah way. Tell him I says he's got to git -down thar' quick an' face the music." -</p> - -<p> -"What's it all about, Mammy?" asked -Theonidas with not unnatural curiosity. -</p> - -<p> -"That ain't none o' your business," Judy -replied, "an' ef you don't know nothin' you -can't git it wrong in tellin' it. You jes' say -what I's tole you to say, an' by midnight he'll -be a stumblin' down the mounting to find out -what's the matter. But tell him—now <i>mind</i>, -Theonidas, an' listen to what I's a sayin'—" -for the boy was reaching across the table for -a second helping of some dish he specially relished, -and Judy feared that he was not attending -to her instructions—"listen to what I's -a sayin'—" -</p> - -<p> -"I's <i>is</i> a listenin', Mammy," the boy replied. -"I's heard every word." -</p> - -<p> -"Is you? Then what was it I said last?" -she demanded. -</p> - -<p> -"You said as how that by midnight he'd be -a stumblin' down the mounting to find out -what's the matter." -</p> - -<p> -"Right you is!" said Judy approvingly. -"Now that's business, an' so is what I'm a -goin' to say. You is to tell him <i>not to come -near Judy Peters's place</i>. Tell him they's reasons. -Tell him to go down t'other road Arricktown -way. It's shorter an' quicker, but tell -him they's reasons besides the shortness an' -quickness. An' when you's tole him all that -tell him your Mammy says he kin count on her -tell death! That'll cheer him up, like." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap20"></a> -XX -<br /> -THE SATISFACTION OF W. W. WEBB -</h3> - -<p> -When William Wilberforce Webb -found that he had to fight for an -election which he had supposed to -be securely his by virtue of his regular nomination -as the candidate of the dominant party, -he hastily called his friends and advisers together -for consultation. -</p> - -<p> -In the course of the discussion it was decided -that the weak spot in Webb's campaign lay in -his neglect to do anything to secure the mountain -vote. -</p> - -<p> -"We'll divide about even down here," said -the shrewdest politician among Webb's following. -"You see the whole Democratic vote is -just so much withdrawn from Westover's -strength among the planters, and the Democrats -seem to be in earnest this year. That -leaves us with a small but secure majority in -this part of the district. The decision will -rest with the mountain vote, and so far as I -can see we've done nothing to secure that." -</p> - -<p> -"I haven't thought it necessary," answered -Webb, "until now. You see the mountain -people have seemed entirely indifferent, and -they seem so now. As they gave me a big -majority at the last election, I have reckoned -upon party lines to give me a like majority -this time." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you seen Judy Peters?" asked one -of the advisers. -</p> - -<p> -"No. I have taken the mountain vote for -granted, as about three-fourths Whig and one-fourth -Democratic. You see none of us expected -this intrusion of Boyd Westover into -the campaign." -</p> - -<p> -"No, none of us expected it," answered another, -"but we've run up against the unexpected, -and we've got to meet it. Webb, -you've got to go up and see Judy Peters. If -you please her she'll settle the election out of -hand, but if you offend her, then God save us, -for no lesser power can!" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll go," answered Webb, "but I really -don't think it necessary. I had a talk with -Edgar Coffey the other day—in fact I had -him dine with me at the hotel—and he assured -me that Judy Peters was taking no interest -in the campaign. He said Judy cares so -little about it that even he hadn't heard an expression -of opinion from her lips. So I have -taken the normal Whig majority in the mountains -for granted." -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon "Foggy"—he had some other -name but nobody ever remembered it—arose -and walked twice across the floor before speaking. -He was barkeeper, constable, jailor, livery -man, faro dealer, hound-master, money -lender, note shaver, and pretty nearly everything -else that was disreputable, whether official -or unofficial, at the county seat, and in his -various capacities he was rightly supposed to -know politics and men as nobody else in the -county did. At last he turned to Webb and -asked: -</p> - -<p> -"Was it yesterday or the day before, that -you were born? Because if it was longer ago -than yesterday there really can be no excuse -for your faith in Edgar Coffey. Don't you -know he was never caught telling the truth but -once in his life, and that time he was talking -in his sleep after too heavy a load of apple -jack, and took it all back as soon as he waked -up? Now my advice to you is to get your -walking boots on as quick as ever you can, -and go up to Judy Peters's for a consultation -as to the mountain vote. And you want to -mind your eye with Judy, for if you offend -her your goose is cooked and your cake's -dough." -</p> - -<p> -In accordance with this suggestion, Webb -prepared himself for a journey up the mountain -road, but as he had a speaking engagement to -keep, he could not make the proposed visit -until a day later. In the meanwhile, and by -way of placation, he sent a messenger with a -note to Judy, in which he wrote: -</p> - -<p> -"I feel that I have neglected my duty in not -visiting you before, but I have had my days -and nights so full of work that it has really -seemed impossible until now. I am going up -to-morrow to enjoy one of your matchless suppers -and have a talk with you about whatever -interests you. As for my campaign for the -Senate, I know your loyalty too well to doubt -that it has your approval; and now that the -intrusion of a third candidate has rendered the -result somewhat insecure in the piedmont part -of the district, I hope to interest you so far -that you will help me stir up a rousing vote in -the mountains." -</p> - -<p> -Judy's sole comment on the letter was: -</p> - -<p> -"They'll be a rousin' vote in the mountings -sure enough." -</p> - -<p> -Then she turned to Sapphira and with a -relish in her tone, said: -</p> - -<p> -"Say, Sapphiry, you an' me's got to lay ourselves -out on tomorry night's supper. They's -a candidate a comin'." -</p> - -<p> -"Is he one you's a goin' to 'lect?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes—to stay at home. But may be you's -noticed, Sapphiry, that whenever I picks out a -shoat to be turned into victuals next day, I always -gives that shoat fust chanst at the buttermilk, -an' see to it as how he kin jes' lay down -all night, 'longside o' more corn 'n he could -eat in a week. They ain't much difference -'twix' candidates an' shoats I reckon,—leastways -some candidates. So you an' me's jes' -got to git up a supper fer to-morry night sich -as the candidate never seen in his life before. -You go to the smoke house an' git the ham -that hangs wrong end up on the third row o' -hooks, three hams from the left end. Wash -it an' put it on to bile right away so's that it'll -have time to git firm cold. They's half a shoat -in the spring house, an' we'll wring the necks -o' some fryin'-size chickens to-night so's to -have 'em ready. To-morry's the reg'lar twice -a week churnin' day, so's that they'll be fresh -butter an' plenty o' buttermilk ef the candidate -happens to like buttermilk. I'll set a -bakin' o' bread to-morry mornin' so's we kin -have a hot loaf fer supper. As fer beat biscuit -an' batter bread, we kin make 'em when -the time comes. Say, Sapphiry, le's surprise -the candidate!" -</p> - -<p> -Judy uttered that sentence with enthusiasm -and with a smile on her face. A happy thought -had come to her. -</p> - -<p> -"Tain't hog-killin' time yit, nor yit 'twon't -be fer more'n a month to come, an' so nobody -ain't seen no sassage sence last winter. Le's -make some, out'n the trimmin's o' that half a -shoat! You an' me kin chop it an' season it -to-night an' it'll be extry superfine by supper -time to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you certainly is a layin' yourself out -fer that there candidate, Mammy," said Sapphira -in admiration of her mother's enthusiasm. -"Is you a goin' to give him a chanst at -your old peach and honey?" -</p> - -<p> -"What! peach an' honey fer that miserable -wild mustard patch of a candidate? Well, not -ef I see it fust. Apple jack he'll drink, an' -it'll come out o' that there bar'l as was made -out o' last year's windfalls an' cullin's, at that. -They ain't no fine flavor to that slop, but it'll -make drunk come just the same, an' I reckon -that's all a half breed like Webb's got any call -to expect o' liquor. The best o' victuals ain't -none too good fer anybody as sets down to -Judy Peters's table, but politeness an' liquor -goes by favor, an' I ain't got no favor to spare -fer that doggoned counterfeit-copper cuss, -Webb." -</p> - -<p> -When Webb appeared, he found Judy arrayed -in colors that the lilies of the field never -dared assume and that Solomon in all his -glory did not dream of. She had even put on -her bracelets and her breast pin of green glass, -simulating a setting of emeralds. She had -borrowed Sapphira's earrings—great golden -hoops that had cost a dollar and a quarter—and -was wearing them in honor of the occasion. -</p> - -<p> -Her gorgeousness of adornment and the -barbaric lavishness of the supper she served -him, convinced Webb at the outset that her -favor was altogether his, that the mountain -vote was secure, and that in spite of all alarms -his triumphant election was as certain as any -human event could be. Perhaps Judy had intended -to create that impression on his mind. -Certainly she did nothing to correct or remove -it, and by the time supper was over Webb was -so well satisfied with things as they were that -he did not hesitate to indulge freely in the -apple jack that Judy set out for his consumption. -</p> - -<p> -When she had got his tongue "loosened -up" to her liking, and not till then, she brought -the conversation around to subjects connected -with the political campaign. Webb had not -ventured to introduce those subjects earlier. -His instinct was keen enough to realize that -in Judy Peters's house Judy Peters was herself -the director of the conversation, and he had -heard, till the fact was deeply impressed on his -mind, that the person who forced the talk into -channels of his own choosing was pretty sure -to find himself snubbed and snuffed out by -some caustic and high-flavored utterance of -her majesty the Queen of the Mountains. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me 'bout your campaign, William -Wilberforce Webb," she said after he had had -a third or fourth helping of apple jack. Then -she changed her mind—or perhaps the change -had been in her mind all the while—and said: -"No, don't bother 'bout that yit. Tell me, instid -o' that, what you's a luggin' all that name -around for. I s'pose when you was a boy they -called you jes' Billy Webb. Why ain't that -a good 'nough name for you now? You see -us folks up here in the mountings ain't got -much respec' nor patience like with names -bigger'n the men what wears 'em. They was -wunst a feller come up here what called hisself -James Augustus de Forrest Hyde, an' we -run him out'n the mountings. He come back -arter a while a callin' hisself plain Jim Hyde, -an' he's been a breedin' mules successful, like, -ever since. You see when he fust come he -brought more name along than he could tote, -an' that's jest what you's a doin' with your -William Wilberforce Webb. It sounds well -down 'mong the stuck ups, but 'tain't no go up -here in the mountings. Us folks likes somethin' -plainer—somethin' like Boyd Westover." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you're right, Judy," answered -Webb flinching a little at the name of his antagonist, -"but when a man's parents have -given him a long name what's he to do -but wear it? A man's name's a part of -him." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, an' it's that part us folks up here in -the mountings don't like. It's the fool part. -Why ain't 'W. W. Webb' a good enough -name fer a one-horse vehicle like you?" -</p> - -<p> -It was the epithet rather than the question -that staggered Webb, but that it did stagger -him was indicated to Judy's shrewd observation -by the fact that he took three deep -draughts of the apple brandy before answering. -At last he said: -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you see, Judy—" -</p> - -<p> -"No, I don't see," she interrupted, "an' you -ain't a goin' to make me see sense in a thing -what ain't got no sense in it." -</p> - -<p> -"I was going to say—" he began again. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know you was. Never mind a -sayin' it. Listen to me. Ef I'm to help you -in your canvass up here in the mountings, you's -got to shorten your name somehow. Mind I -don't say I's a goin' to help you,"—Judy's -sturdy love of truth in the abstract prompted -this qualification of what was essentially a lie -in the concrete—"but <i>ef</i> I'm to help you, -you's got to give me a shorter name 'n William -Wilberforce Webb to call you by. You see -every time I try to say anything 'bout you my -mouth gits so choked up, like, with that durned -worm fence of a name that the rest o' the -words won't come out nohow." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm sorry, Judy, awfully sorry that my -name offends you. Just call me Billy hereafter." -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right for me," answered Judy, -"but you was enominated by the name of -William Wilberforce Webb, an that's the way -it'll be wrote on the pollin' books. How's the -folks up here in the mountings to know as how -Billy Webb an' William Wilberforce Webb is -the same feller? The two don't sound much -alike. Howsomever we'll try an' manage that. -Now tell me 'bout how things is a goin' down -plantation ways." -</p> - -<p> -In the embarrassment created by Judy's critical -reflections upon his name, Webb had filled -his large tumbler again with the insidious intoxicant, -forgetting to add water, and had -taken several swigs of the "reverend spirits," -which is what Virginians always called undiluted -brandy or whiskey. Judy had observed -the fact but had not discouraged it. Her son, -Daniel Webster, was at home that night to put -Webb to bed if need be, and meanwhile she -wanted to find out from Webb's indiscretion -what she had no hope of learning in any other -way, namely, "all about the gal that's mixed -up in the matter." -</p> - -<p> -To that end she interrupted Webb many -times, checking his tendency to indulge in -generalities and holding him down to facts. -He told her how greatly Boyd Westover's intrusive -nomination had disturbed what had -promised to be a "walk-over campaign"; how -the refusal of Colonel Conway to sign Boyd's -nomination paper was exciting suspicion, and -much else of interest to which Judy paid no -heed. She harked back instead to the Conway -matter. -</p> - -<p> -"What was the matter with Conway?" she -asked. "Has him an' young Westover had -any fallin' out?" -</p> - -<p> -Webb had attained that condition of alcoholic -indiscretion in which the impulse is to be -confidential and to say things far better left -unsaid. He unbosomed himself. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you see, Judy," he said, "there are -some things we don't mention, but you're a -friend of mine, Judy, and you're entitled to -my confidence. You see it's this way. The -talk is that Boyd Westover and Colonel Conway's -daughter Margaret were engaged to be -married, when Westover committed—or was -accused of committing the crime of which he -was convicted and for which he was sentenced -to the penitentiary. Some say she stood by -him and he threw her over; some suggest that -he couldn't explain things to her satisfaction—that -she asked him questions he couldn't answer; -some say he went back to Wanalah eager -to marry the girl, and she threw him over -because she didn't believe in his innocence. -You see, Judy, he is, after all's said and done, -only a pardoned criminal, and his pardon was -based only on the confession of a poor demented -fellow who has since been sent to -Staunton as a lunatic. Anyhow it's plain that -Colonel Conway believes Boyd Westover to be -guilty, just as I do and as a good many other -folks down our way do. If he isn't guilty, -why's he hiding himself? Why don't he come -into the district and face the music, instead of -leaving that little monkey, Carley Farnsworth, -to do everything for him? You never saw -Carley Farnsworth, did you, Judy? Of -course you didn't. Well, he's a little jackanapes -of a doctor that's equally ready to give -his blue pills by the mouth or at the point of -a pistol. Boyd Westover has put him forward -to overawe and intimidate everybody; but the -Democrats will hold their vote this year and -with your help, Judy, we'll make this election -memorable." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know jest what that last word -means, Billy, but after what you's been a tellin' -me you kin bet your next winter's meat I'll -have a hand in this here 'lection." -</p> - -<p> -Judy never made promises that she did not -fulfil. But if a candidate misinterpreted the -phrases she used in making promises, she -stoutly held that the fault was his and not -hers. -</p> - -<p> -"My words is good for what they call fer," -she was accustomed to say, "but good money -don't stand fer no counterfeits." -</p> - -<p> -When she had got all she wanted out of -Webb, she sent that worthy to bed, satisfied -in his soul with things as they were, and as -confident of the mountain vote in his behalf -as of the excellence of Judy's cookery and the -exhilaration that resided in her apple jack. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap21"></a> -XXI -<br /> -FLAGS FLYING -</h3> - -<p> -Judy was right in her reckoning as to the -effect of her blind message upon the mood -and movements of Boyd Westover. It -was not far from midnight when Theonidas -reported what his mother had said, and although -the night was one of extreme darkness -and a drizzling rain was falling, Boyd Westover -set out at once to stumble down the precipitous -mountain path to the scarcely less precipitous -mountain road three miles away, and -thence down, down, down, to whatever level -the road might ultimately reach. -</p> - -<p> -As he had never journeyed over that road -before, and as its perils by night were very -real and very great, Theonidas besought him -to postpone the start until the dawn, but he -refused to heed, and bidding the boy transfer -the camp equipments to Judy Peters's house, -to await orders, set off with the energy of a -madman. Yet he had never been saner in all -his life or in better condition to meet difficulty. -</p> - -<p> -The delphic character of Judy's message left -him, of course, in doubt as to the occasion of -the talk about himself and to his detriment in -his own neighborhood, but from the first he -had not a shadow of doubt as to the substance -and subject of that talk. He knew without -telling that his fellow men had found some occasion—he -could not guess what—for discussing -his character and conduct and for recalling -to his disadvantage his conviction of -crime, his pardon and all the rest of it. -</p> - -<p> -But he faced this sort of thing now in very -different mood from that which had been his -a few weeks before. Where before his impulse -had been to shrink away from the horror, his -mood now was to seek it out, to dare it, to -defy it, to fight it with all the determination -of a vigorous manhood aroused to self defence -and not averse to vengeance. Where before -he had instinctively sought solitude as a refuge, -his impulse now was to seek the haunts of his -fellow men, to challenge the criticism that had -before so appalled him, to face the world with -head erect and dare Fate to meet him hand to -hand, foot to foot, eye to eye in combat. -</p> - -<p> -The simple fact was that he had ceased to -be morbid. In his life up there among the -mountain tops he had regained his health of -mind and body. In his contests with Nature's -forces and his triumph over them in a thousand -petty ways, he had become normal again. He -was no longer the introspective, morbidly self-conscious -victim of adverse circumstance that -Judy Peters had found him to be, but a strong -man rejoicing in his strength, a Westover of -Wanalah who shrank from no danger and -blanched in no foe's presence. He tramped -down the mountain through six or seven hours -of darkness in eager quest of those malignities -from which he had before sought escape in a -refuge of solitude. He wanted now to hear -and combat the criticism from the very thought -of which he had before been moved to flee in -something like terror. -</p> - -<p> -It was in this mood that he encountered the -first news of what had happened. It presented -itself in the shape of one of Carley Farnsworth's -nominating placards, tacked to the -great hewn log posts of a gate that spanned -the road, and Westover, after nearly twenty -miles of tramping, came upon it about sunrise. -He could not imagine what to make of it, and -after a minute's consideration he dismissed it -as somebody's practical joke—a part perhaps -of that "devil to pay" in his own neighborhood -of which Judy Peters had sent him -warning. -</p> - -<p> -But as he continued his journey he found -the thing repeated on every gatepost, on every -conspicuous tree by the roadside, and all over -the front of a blacksmith's shop which he had -to pass. -</p> - -<p> -There was nobody in the shop to answer -questions at that early hour, but at that point -the road forked, one arm of it leading to Wanalah -and the other to Chinquapin Knob, the -home of Carley Farnsworth. It was only three -miles from that point to Wanalah, and it was -full five miles to Chinquapin Knob, but, weary -as his legs ought to have been and were not, -after his twenty odd miles of tramping over -rough roads, he turned his face not toward -Wanalah but in the opposite direction, resolving -to take breakfast with Carley Farnsworth -at Chinquapin Knob. He quickened his pace -too, after a glance at his watch. -</p> - -<p> -"It's half-past six," he said to himself, "and -Carley has the barbaric habit of breakfasting at -eight. I must do the five miles in an hour and -a half, if I don't want a breakfast of leftovers, -and this morning I don't." -</p> - -<p> -As he trudged on up a glutinous red clay -hill road, it began to rain again in dismal fashion, -but the fact did not depress him. -</p> - -<p> -"It'll make the clay road soapy," he reflected, -"so I must put a little more vim into -my leg motions if I'm to do the trick on time." -</p> - -<p> -With that he added ten or a dozen steps per -minute to his pace and thought no more about -the matter. -</p> - -<p> -Boyd Westover was himself again. That -was all. -</p> - -<p> -Tree after tree, as he passed on, confronted -him with a repetition of the announcement that -"We the undersigned, deeming it desirable -that," etc., etc., "hereby nominate Boyd Westover, -Esq., of Wanalah, for election as the -representative of this Senate district in the -upper house of the Legislature, and we appeal -to the pride and patriotism of our friends, -fellow citizens and neighbors," and so on to -the end of the chapter of Carley Farnsworth's -free flowing rhetoric. Westover did not pause -to look at any of them. There was no need. -He had already learned what the placards proclaimed, -and he had already observed the conspicuous -absence of Colonel Conway's name -from the list of those who thus urged his election. -He could no more guess the meaning of -its absence than others had been able to do, -but he was not surprised by the fact. In view -of Colonel Conway's failure to call upon him -during the days of his late stay at Wanalah, -he would have been astonished if that gentleman's -name had appeared on the paper. But -his mood was not now what it had been before. -He was no longer disposed to be submissive -even to Fate, or to reconcile himself to its unjust -decrees. As he strode onward at the pace -he had set himself he reflected: -</p> - -<p> -"Of course Colonel Conway was under no -obligation to call upon me, except the obligation -of old friendship, and that he was free to -regard as cancelled, if he chose. And of -course he was under no obligation to sign that -nominating paper, if he did not wish. But he -knew that his failure to call upon me was a -conspicuous neglect to which others would attach -importance, and he knew that his refusal -to sign the paper would be everywhere interpreted -as an accusation that must put shame -upon me. I have a right to demand a greater -explicitness of accusation, and I will. His -silence does me a greater hurt than any other -man's utterance could. I have a right to challenge -it on the ground of its injustice. I have -a right to insist that he shall speak, and I will -make that demand and enforce it." -</p> - -<p> -Obviously Boyd Westover had recovered his -vigor and was again fit to call himself by the -name his forebears had borne for generations -past—Westover of Wanalah—a name which -in that community had always stood for virility, -courage and uncompromising honor; a -name that had meant secure peace to those who -deserved peace and quick war to those who -were hostilely disposed; a name that had always -represented what is best in manhood, -both in its tenderly forbearing gentleness of -impulse and its relentless strength of purpose. -</p> - -<p> -As he approached Chinquapin Knob the evidences -of his candidacy rapidly multiplied. -The outer gate of Carley Farnsworth's plantation -was plastered all over with the nomination -placards, and as the house came into view Boyd -saw a great flagstaff there carrying in the -breeze three long tailed streamers on which, -as he presently made out, were inscribed the -legends: -</p> - -<p> -"For Senator—Boyd Westover!" -</p> - -<p> -"Vote for a Gentleman!" -</p> - -<p> -"Westover of Wanalah!" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't understand it," Westover reflected -as he climbed the last hill and saw by a glance -at his watch that he was a quarter of an hour -ahead of his scheduled time, "I don't understand -it, but obviously I'm a candidate for -Senator and with equal obviousness I'm in -for a fight if I am to win. So much the better. -I don't care a fig about the Senatorship, but -I'll enjoy the fight. I'm in the mood for it. -And besides I like to win the game, whatever -the stake may be. I'll fight for this election -as I never fought for anything before in my -life. I wonder who the other fellow is, anyhow—my -opponent?" -</p> - -<p> -Clearly his twenty-five mile walk, made between -midnight and breakfast time, had not -robbed Boyd Westover of any of the vigor of -mind and temper that were his by inheritance -and that the mountains had given back to him. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm almost famished," he said to himself. -"It suddenly occurs to me that I was out after -a catamount last night and forgot all about my -supper. I wonder if Carley has a roe herring -for my breakfast. Anyhow he'll have a lot of -other good things." -</p> - -<p> -As he finished his wondering he entered the -house grounds at Chinquapin Knob, and Carley -Farnsworth, who was smoking his before-breakfast -pipe in the porch, caught sight of -him. -</p> - -<p> -Their greetings and questions were like shots -from a rapid fire gun, an implement of slaughter -which had not then been invented by the -devilish ingenuity of greed in the service of -murder. -</p> - -<p> -Out of the cross fire Carley Farnsworth -managed to extract the information that his -friend had been tramping since midnight with -a stomach empty since noon of the preceding -day. -</p> - -<p> -"Good!" he exclaimed. "Excellent! -You're altogether fit. You're in shape or you -never could have done that. But I won't answer -any question you can conceivably ask"—for -Boyd had already begun a clamorous catechism -as to what it all meant—"until we've -had breakfast and a pipe. Enos!" addressing -a negro boy, "go to the kitchen and tell Elsie -there'll be a lot of trouble at Chinquapin Knob -if breakfast isn't on the table in five minutes,—do -you hear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Now tell me, Carley, what all this means," -pleaded Westover. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll do nothing of the kind until after -breakfast," answered the other. "I'm a doctor -you know, and I have the honor to be the -family physician at Wanalah. By the way, -Boyd, you've got three cases of typhoid in your -lower quarters, and as I suspected the well -I've ordered it filled up, and the negroes down -there are carrying their water half a mile or -so. That isn't what I wanted to talk about. -As your family physician I have your health -in charge. You're in superb condition now, -and it's my business to keep you so. You've -made a long tramp on an empty stomach—a -very unwise thing to do, but as a doctor I'm -used to that sort of thing. There wouldn't -be any serious work for us doctors to do, if -people generally were wise. But you've made -a tremendous draft upon your bank account -of vigor, and it is time for you to make a deposit -to keep the account good. You need -breakfast, before you burden your mind even -with anything I have to say. And by the way, -Johnny is bringing in the breakfast two whole -minutes before the time. There's the loaf of -hot light bread, and the roe herrings and the -biscuits and the batter bread. There's a cold -ham on the dresser and the batter cakes or -waffles or something of that kind will come in -later. Kizzy, my housekeeper, is making the -coffee; she always does that the last thing in -order that it may be fresh. She frequently -utters the dictum, 'Coffee ain't no good ef -you don't drink it while the aromatics is in it.' -I don't know where she got that word, but -there is always a supply of delicious 'aromatics' -in Kizzy's coffee. Come. Here's a cold -jowl if you care for it, and there's sausage -before you, and liver and chidlings—you see -I killed half my hogs the other day. Eat your -breakfast and make it a good one. If you -don't I'll refuse to tell you any of the interesting -things you're so anxious to hear about." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap22"></a> -XXII -<br /> -AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE -</h3> - -<p> -When the breakfast was over and, -with long-stemmed pipes alight, the -two friends foregathered in front of -a blazing fire—for the drizzling autumn day -was chill—Westover again demanded to -know "what all this thing means." -</p> - -<p> -"You must have seen some of the placards?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Some</i> of them? It seems to me that all -the woods have been papered with them. But -what does it mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, that's obvious enough. It means that -a goodly number of your neighbors and friends -have nominated you for Senator, moved thereto -by a conviction that the intelligence and character -of the district deserve a better representative -than William Wilberforce Webb." -</p> - -<p> -Farnsworth was careful not to suggest Judy -Peters's initiative or interest in the matter. -That was a secret between him and her. -</p> - -<p> -The mention of Webb's name as that of his -opponent, started Westover out of his chair, -and as he stood upon the hearth he said, in -tones that were kept in subjection by sheer -force of a resolute will: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, then it is Webb I'm running against. -That puts a new face on the affair. I like that. -Against him I'll make a whirlwind campaign. -But how on earth did that fellow manage to -secure a nomination by so respectable a party -as the Whigs?" -</p> - -<p> -"Chiefly by general neglect. He worked for -the nomination and all the rest of us let it go -to him by default. That's the substance of the -story." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," answered Westover, "the news that -he is my opponent gives me a new and eager -interest in the campaign. We'll get up squirrel -stews and barbecues, late as the season -is, and militia musters and every other kind of -thing that draws men together, and I'll make -my little, red hot speech at all of them. Is -there anything in sight?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing available, so far as your presence -is concerned. This is Court day, of course, -and I'm going to make a speech—" -</p> - -<p> -"So am I," interjected Westover. -</p> - -<p> -"But how can you? You've tramped all -night and I've ordered a bath and a bed for -you." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you sincerely. I'll enjoy the bath -and the bed some other time. To-day I'm going -to the Court House with you. I'll ride -one of your plugs, if you don't mind, and may -be you'll send a boy over to Wanalah with a -note to my overseer. I want him to send a -horse to the Court House to meet me—a real -horse that I'll have a fight with every time I -come to a gate." -</p> - -<p> -Carley Farnsworth did not answer immediately. -Instead he walked into the dining room -under pretence of refilling his pipe—really for -the sake of a good chuckle over his friend's -condition. -</p> - -<p> -"He's as fit as a fiddle," he said to himself. -"He's full of vigor and full of fight. He's -Westover of Wanalah again, and that's what -I've been working for. That mountain air, -and the hunting and fishing and rough tramping -have done more for him than all the calomel, -quinine and strychnine I've got in my -saddle bags could do. It's great! And we'll -crown the cure—Judy and I—by making -him Senator. Really Judy is a great diagnostician -in her way. It was she who found out -what was the matter with Boyd and prescribed -the remedy. I used to think she had only one -medicine, that apple jack was her panacea. I -know better now." -</p> - -<p> -Then, with his pipe refilled, he returned to -the parlor only to find it empty. Going to the -porch he saw Westover astride a three-year-old -filly that had been turned loose to graze in -the house grounds. Without saddle or bridle -the young man was gaily cavorting on the -spirited mare's back and rapidly reconciling her -to control of his will. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, certainly he's fit," muttered the little -doctor. "There aren't many men in Virginia -who would prefer that sort of thing to a comfortable -bed after an all night's tramp down a -mountain side, over the roughest roads that -adverse natural conditions, supplemented by the -evil ingenuity of road supervisors, ever managed -to create. Houp la! I'll dismiss him as -cured. But we'll go on and elect him." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as the negro boy for whom he had -sent appeared, Farnsworth called out: -</p> - -<p> -"I say, Boyd, I've a boy waiting for you -here. Come and give him instructions." -</p> - -<p> -And when Westover reached the steps, his -host added: -</p> - -<p> -"Sam may as well bring your horse to the -Court House himself. It is hardly at all out -of his way in coming back. So give him your -instructions." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well. Go to my overseer, Sam, and -tell him to send Rob Roy to me by you. And -mind you, you are to lead him. If you try -to ride him he'll pitch you head first into the -deepest mud puddle he can find, and then he'll -go galloping home again. Tell the overseer -to put the double-bitted snaffle and curb bridle -on him and the lightest flat saddle in the stables. -And mind, Sam, keep the stirrups -crossed over the saddle. If you don't, Rob -Roy will mount himself and ride away heaven -knows where." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir," answered Sam. "I hear, an' -I'll be keerful. I prides myself on ridin' anything -they is short'n a hurricane, but I's contumaciously -opposed to gittin' on the back o' -that there Rob Roy o' yourn. He's wuss'n a -hurricane an' a' earthquake an' a 'clipse o' de -moon all put togedder. Dat's my jedgment -o' his pussonal character generally. He's wuss -now, o' course." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Sam?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Cause he's done been stabled up fer free -or four months, now, 'thout no exercise 'ceptin' -bein' led to de branch fer water." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know that, Sam? Have they kept -that horse—" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir, I knows it. Yo' see dey ain't -nobody on Wanalah plantation dat dares git -on dat dar hoss's back, an' 'taint much fun to -exercise a hoss by leadin' of him. 'Sides -dat—" -</p> - -<p> -Sam faltered, and his master interposed: -</p> - -<p> -"Go on—'sides what." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, 'taint nothin', sir." -</p> - -<p> -"All right. I like to hear about nothings. -Who is she, Sam?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who's who, Mastah?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, the girl you've been courting over -at Wanalah? Of course I know you've been -stealing a mule out of the stables and riding -over there every night for a month without -asking my permission. But I don't know who -the girl is or whether she's worthy of you, -Sam." -</p> - -<p> -"'Fore de Lawd, Mastah, I ain't—" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't forswear yourself, Sam. I know -all about it. I visit my stables every night, -and I've missed you and the mule. I don't -mind, only, if you had asked me, I'd have let -you have a better mule and a saddle. Never -mind that now. Take the mare Medora, and -get away from here. Bring your Mas' Boyd's -horse to the Court House, and mind you, don't -stop at Wanalah to sweetheart with Patty -Jane—for you see after all I know all about -this thing." -</p> - -<p> -"And Sam, tell my body servant to send -me some clothes by you," added Westover. -</p> - -<p> -When the boy had gone, in some confusion -over what seemed to him his master's supernatural -knowledge of things he had carefully -guarded against discovery, Farnsworth explained -to his companion: -</p> - -<p> -"I always take pains to know what goes -on on the plantation, and I never mention it -except in sensational ways, calculated to impress -the African mind with the conviction -that as a doctor I am possessed of strange, -occult powers of discovery against which it is -useless to practise the ordinary arts of concealment. -It's a handy way to keep things -in order on a plantation, the master of which -has to attend to a medical practice. Now we -must be off. Here are our horses. I've assigned -to your use the maddest piece of horseflesh -I possess. It's a mare that broke my -overseer's arm a year ago, and when harnessed -to a vehicle for purposes of subjugation and -discipline kicked the vehicle into kindling -wood and scrap iron and then kept on kicking -till there was nothing left on her but a -collar. She'd have kicked that off too, I -reckon, if it had been behind her shoulders. -She has been a good deal tamed since then, -but she still has spirit enough to satisfy any -reasonable rider. You, of course, are unreasonable. -What's your fancy anyhow, Boyd, -for riding cataclysms and cyclones instead of -serious-minded animals that know their business -and do it docilely?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh I don't know. I like struggle, contest, -and all that. I like to match my wits -against brute strength. I like—well I suppose -I like a fight." -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke the two mounted. -</p> - -<p> -"There's no trace of neurasthenia in him, -anyhow," thought Farnsworth. Aloud he -said: -</p> - -<p> -"All that is very fortunate, for just now -you've got all the fight ahead of you that any -reasonable person of fighting temperament -could desire." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me all about it, Carley. I've been -trying to worm the facts out of you ever since -I got to Chinquapin Knob." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, the thing's simple enough. You see -Webb hates you of course, and he's afraid of -you. When he secured the regular nomination -he thought he had his fox by the tail. -There was only the Democratic candidate, -Sam Butler, opposing him, and of course in -so strong a Whig district as this is, that candidacy -didn't count. But when we nominated -you as an independent Whig, things began to -cloud up in Webb's sky. He got ugly, but—well, -he was made to understand that there -were limits to what it would be safe to say -about you." -</p> - -<p> -"I understand, Carley," said Boyd, grasping -his hand warmly; "I understand, and I -thank you from the bottom of my heart for a -friendship that has no bottom so far as plummet -line can discover. But all that's my job -now. Go on, I want to hear." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, he hasn't dared say a thing in any -open fashion, but there are a lot of his followers -whom no gentleman can afford to -honor by slapping their jaws or kicking them -off the steps of a barroom, and through them -Webb has managed to circulate insinuations." -</p> - -<p> -"Of what sort?" asked Westover quickly. -</p> - -<p> -"It isn't easy to pin them down to a definition. -They have mainly taken the form of -questions. 'Where is Boyd Westover, anyhow? -Why doesn't he present himself to the -people he asks to vote for him? What's he -afraid of? Why didn't his oldest and best -friend Colonel Conway sign the paper nominating -him? Does Colonel Conway doubt -his innocence after all? Isn't he satisfied with -the other fellow's confession? Or does he -think the confession of a lunatic insufficient?' -These are some of the questions set afloat, -nobody knows how or by whom." -</p> - -<p> -"What are the others?" demanded Westover -with set teeth and a jaw that seemed to -have added to its massiveness by reason of the -determination of the mind behind it. "Go -on. Tell me the whole story. I want to know -just what I have got to fight." -</p> - -<p> -"That's right, and I'll be with you in the -fight. We'll run these questions down till we -make it unsafe to ask them. I've already -made a good many people quit asking them -by notifying them that I should treat any -repetition of the questions as an assertion for -which the questioner could be and should be -and would be held responsible; confound that -grammar rule about can and will and could -and should and would, I never could remember -it, but I've given notice to all and singular -that I recognize no distinction between insinuation -and assertion in such a case as this, and -that—oh, well, you know what a notice of -that kind suggests." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, yes, I know, and I thank you. But -you're evading my question, Carley. What -is the other insinuation? I quite understand -that you shrink from mentioning it, but you -must. I have a right to demand that much -from a friendship so loyal as yours has proved -itself to be. Go on. Tell me the worst." -</p> - -<p> -"I will. But the thing has been so subtilely -put forth that I've found it impossible -even to find anybody who has asked the question. -Indeed everybody who has helped to -circulate the slander has done so not by asking -if there was truth in it but by declaring -his utter disbelief in it. I never knew anything -so cleverly managed in my life, or anything -so malignant." -</p> - -<p> -"You haven't yet told me what the scandal -was," said Boyd, with lips so tightly compressed -that the purple had all gone out of -them. -</p> - -<p> -"In substance it amounted to this, that you -had in some way treated Colonel Conway's -daughter with unchivalrous disrespect—that -you had put some unforgivable slight upon -her—nobody suggests what. In fact the -thing is so vague and shadowy and unsubstantial -that it is difficult even to define it. -But Colonel Conway's refusal to join with us -in nominating you has lent a sort of color to -it, and this thing, utterly unsubstantial as it -is, has done more than all else to embarrass -our campaign. In your absence it has been -impossible to meet it and throttle it, for nobody -but you could have a shadow of authority -to question Colonel Conway on such a -subject." -</p> - -<p> -"I understand," answered Boyd; "I'll deal -with that matter in a way that will satisfy -myself at any rate, and possibly my friends -also. Thank you for all. I know the situation -now, and knowing it, I think I know how -to meet it." -</p> - -<p> -As he said this the pair were entering the -Court House village, and their road took -them within a few feet of the house and law -office of Sam Butler, the Democratic candidate -for Senator. As they passed, Butler -stepped out into the porch accompanied by -Edgar Coffey, and engaged in the earnest end -of a conversation. They could not avoid -hearing Coffey say: -</p> - -<p> -"Well, that's what Judy tole me to tell you, -an' ef you do as she says, she'll take keer o' -the rest." -</p> - -<p> -Neither Westover nor Farnsworth said a -word until they had passed well beyond hearing. -Then Westover exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder what on earth that means! -Surely Judy Peters isn't going to throw the -mountain vote for him." -</p> - -<p> -"Very certainly not," answered Farnsworth, -but he said nothing of his visit to the Queen -of the Mountains or of her initiative in Boyd -Westover's nomination. -</p> - -<p> -"No," answered Westover, recalling Judy's -last message to himself, "that isn't even one -of the possibilities." But he did not explain -the grounds of his confidence. -</p> - -<p> -After a little, as the two rode into the stable -yard of the hotel to put up their horses, Westover -said: -</p> - -<p> -"Nevertheless I'd give something handsome -to know what that meant." -</p> - -<p> -"So would I," answered Farnsworth. -</p> - -<p> -They were destined to find out, before the -campaign ended, but not yet. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap23"></a> -XXIII -<br /> -COURT DAY -</h3> - -<p> -Court Day in old Virginia was an institution. -It happened once a month -and it served all the purposes of club, -exchange, political assemblage, muster, and -social meeting time. Pretty nearly the whole -adult male population of the county was sure to -be present at the county seat on that day, so -that the Virginian who wanted to see anybody, -whether to collect a note or give one, to make -a contract or to cancel one, to arrange a religious -meeting or a barbecue, to trade horses -or to exchange views concerning the latest -philosophy, to make speeches or to listen to -them, was sure to find present the people who -were in any way related to the matter he had -in hand. Those leisurely folk never thought -of bothering themselves to visit anybody on -business. Whatever the business was, it could -wait until Court Day, and it did. -</p> - -<p> -Sometimes there was political speaking or -the like on Court Day, but not always. The -orators had need of an audience, and if there -was anything of interest going on in Court, -everybody was sure to be there and the orators -had nobody to address. -</p> - -<p> -It was so on this occasion. It was a quarterly -Court—a grand jury term of the County -Court—and there was a murder trial of sensational -character in progress. As a result -everybody who could find a square foot of -space within the Court room, in which to -bestow his person, sought place there the -moment the Court opened, and held it tenaciously -throughout the session. The struggle -for place was all the greater because Jack -Towns, just returned from his Rocky Mountain -trip, was present as attorney and counsellor -for the accused man, and Jack Towns's -eloquence was something that everybody -wanted to hear. Besides that, his skill in confusing -a witness and reducing him to pulp was -something that nobody wanted to miss. Jack -was a lawyer whose equipment lacked little of -perfection. His learning was adequate, his -sagacity almost preternatural, and when he -had a case to conduct the Commonwealth's Attorney -was in a tremor of blue funk from the -beginning, the Judge was alertly mindful lest -his judgment should be unduly swayed by persuasive -eloquence, and the populace was in the -humor that possesses an audience when a great -star and a great company are to present a great -drama or tragedy or comedy as the case may -be. -</p> - -<p> -Jack was too deeply engaged with "the -work of saving a human life," as he said, to -talk for more than half a minute with Westover, -when the two met at the stables of the -inn. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm going to Wanalah for the night," he -said. "Then and there we can talk. At present -I have only time to tell you that you are, -three times over, the richest man in Virginia -and that your wealth includes a practically -limitless supply of ready money. I haven't -time now to tell you more, but I tell you this -in the interest of your campaign. Give all the -jamborees you think of; let the money flow -like water, and I'll take care of the results." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Jack, I'm not buying my election, -and—" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course not. I understand all that. I -only want you to know that for legitimate expense -your bank account is ample. Now I -must go. I've a human life in my hands. I'll -be with you at Wanalah to-night. Go home -when you get ready. I'll be there when I can. -So long."[1] -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -[1] The expression "so long," as here used, is not an -anachronism. It was in use in Virginia, and in well -nigh universal use in South Carolina before the war. -Its adoption at the North came much later, I believe. -Mr. James Russell Lowell once suggested to me that -it might be a corruption of "salaam."—<span class="smcap">Author.</span>] -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -In Virginia in those old, sunny days, hospitality -was taken for granted in that confident -fashion, and the welcome always justified the -assumption. -</p> - -<p> -But before the court was opened, and during -its noon recess, which was shortened to three-quarters -of an hour because of the importance -of the case at bar, Boyd Westover found it -difficult to move about, because of the besetting -eagerness of his friends to greet him. In answer -to questions he frequently repeated a little -impromptu speech. -</p> - -<p> -"I was in utter ignorance of my nomination -until I saw placards this morning. I haven't -even yet found out what it means, and I really -care nothing for the place. I'd far rather stay -at Wanalah and look after my affairs. But as -my friends have nominated me I'm a candidate -and I shall stay in the race till the polls close -on election day. I learn that some persons—I -don't know who—have been suggesting -things to my detriment. I am here to ask -about that, to challenge every insinuation -against my character and every criticism of my -conduct. I stand ready to answer. I ask only -that those who seek to injure me shall come -out into the open, make themselves known and -put their accusations into definite form so that -they may be met and either refuted or established. -I don't relish attacks in the dark or -from behind masks, and I am going to make -known my opinion of the sneaks and cowards -who make such attacks. I'm going to attend -every gathering of my fellow citizens between -now and election day, and at every one of them -I'm going to challenge any and every body as -I do now, who has aught to say against my -character or my conduct to say it openly like a -man. If any one does that, I shall reply in -such fashion as I think appropriate in each -case. I stand before the community as Westover -of Wanalah, a man conscious of his own -rectitude and prepared to vindicate the honor -of the name he bears at all times, against all -comers and at all hazards. That is all I have -to say, and it ought to be enough to satisfy -honorable men and to silence sneaks and slanderers." -</p> - -<p> -So far as the men of honest mind who were -gathered together that day were concerned, this -challenge seemed abundantly satisfying. Many -who had entertained doubts because of the candidate's -absence, abandoned their doubts and -frankly declared their purpose to support -Westover at the election. As for Webb and -his friends, they found themselves sorely embarrassed. -Their opportunity had lain in -Westover's unexplained absence. His appearance -now, and his frank and manly challenge, -robbed them of their weapons and their ammunition. -They dared not say aught that might -be construed into an accusation, and if any of -them insinuated aught to Westover's discredit -he was sure of a peremptory challenge to say -just what he meant. -</p> - -<p> -It was obvious to Webb and his supporters -that something must be done to meet and neutralize -the effect of Boyd Westover's presence -and defiance. They still had "regularity" -behind them. Webb was the regularly nominated -candidate of the Whig party, strongly -dominant in that region, and presumably he -would receive the regular party vote. Then, -too, as he explained to his partisans, most of -the Democrats, who would of course support -their own party candidate, were men friendly -to Westover, whose votes were so many subtracted -from the support that would otherwise -be his. -</p> - -<p> -"I regard Sam Butler's candidacy as a thing -altogether in my interest," he said confidently, -"and then," he jubilantly added, "I have satisfactory -assurance that the whole mountain -vote will be mine, and so I regard my election -as a foregone conclusion, a triumphant assurance -of a future that holds human affairs securely -within its grasp." -</p> - -<p> -That was a phrase dear to Webb's soul. -He had spent half a night in concocting it -and committing it to memory. "You -know I've been up in the mountains, and I've -been royally entertained by Her Majesty the -Queen." -</p> - -<p> -"Has she definitely promised you the mountain -vote?" asked one who had a passion for -exactitude. -</p> - -<p> -"Practically, yes. You know Judy Peters -talks in parables and never commits herself; -but a wink is as good as a nod to a blind horse, -and her parting words to me left nothing of -assurance to be desired. Now what I want -to say is this: My election is secure, but I -want my constituency to include as large a proportion -of the planters, men of my own class, -as possible, and so I have accepted Sam Butler's -challenge to meet him and divide time -at the Barbecue he's going to give over at -Fighting Creek, the day after to-morrow. I -suppose Westover will be there by Sam's invitation, -and between Sam and me he won't be -left a leg to stand on." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, may be so," muttered Foggy, whose -experience in politics had bred chronic scepticism -in his mind; "but Boyd Westover has -been talkin' right out in meetin' to-day, an' -besides—" -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Foggy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Jack Towns is here, you know, an' -if he happens to make a speech over there he'll -tangle you up like a fish-line after you've -caught an eel on it." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm not afraid of him," answered Webb, -confidently. -</p> - -<p> -"So much the worse," muttered Foggy. -"Maybe he wouldn't do you up so badly if -you were properly afraid of him. However, -we must take things as we find 'em, and candidates -likewise, and I'll be over at Fighting -Creek with a lot o' fellows to shout for you, -Webb." -</p> - -<p> -When Court opened and everybody made a -rush for places in the court house, Boyd strolled -over to the inn whose proprietor insisted upon -calling it a hotel, and, going to the room he -had taken there for the day, threw himself -upon the bed for a sleep of two or three hours. -At the end of that time he arose refreshed, -took a cold sponge bath, and proceeded to -change his rough mountain costume for the -more conventional garments his body servant -had sent him from Wanalah. After the fashion -of the time and country, these consisted of -a "pleated bosom" shirt, a damask silk vest, -a long tailed broadcloth coat, a pair of "doe-skin" -trousers, white socks with silken clocks, -and a pair of "low quarter" shoes with broad -silken ties. It was certain that before mounting -his horse again for the journey to Wanalah, -Boyd Westover would shed the shoes -at any rate and don his high-topped boots instead, -but for the present he felt a social obligation -upon him to dress conventionally; for -he had found at the hotel a note from Major -Magister, the leader of the bar, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you'll dine with me at four -o'clock, Westover. The Judge will be present, -and I hope Jack Towns and the Commonwealth's -Attorney also, prepared to reconcile -the differences created by this trial, and become -friends again. But none of these is what I -mean when I say 'of course' you'll dine with -me. The 'of course' takes the much more -pleasing form of a charming young gentlewoman -from Boston,—Miss Millicent Danvers,—to -whom we all want to show every -possible attention, and especially to introduce -you as a typical young gentleman of Virginia. -She is with us only for the day. So don't send -any excuses, but come in your own proper person." -</p> - -<p> -Remembering that Boyd Westover was a -gallant, hot-blooded young Virginian, and that -it had been many moons since he had enjoyed -association with young women of his class and -caste, it is easy to understand the eagerness -with which he welcomed this opportunity to -"get himself civilized again," as he framed -the thought in his mind. -</p> - -<p> -"From Boston?" he reflected. "I suppose -she'll have gold-rimmed spectacles and talk -philosophy. I never met a Boston girl, so this -will be a new experience. After all, I suppose -women are very much alike, no matter where -they come from. Doubtless this one has pulses, -just as other girls have, and perhaps I shall be -able to put my finger on them. At any rate -it will interest me to try. My opportunities -promise to be good. Major Magister and the -Judge and Jack Towns and the Commonwealth's -Attorney are sure to fall foul of each -other over abstruse law points that the rest of -us know nothing about, and that will leave -mine hostess and the Boston maid to me." -</p> - -<p> -It was in this mood of pleasurable but by -no means enthusiastic anticipation that Westover -entered the home of his host, half an -hour after the jury had returned a verdict of -"not guilty," in the case of Jack Towns's client—a -verdict that was based rather upon the -absence of evidence that Jack Towns had succeeded -in excluding than upon the evidence actually -presented at the trial. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap24"></a> -XXIV -<br /> -A PERFECT WOMAN—AND A MAN -</h3> - -<p> -When his hostess presented him to -Millicent Danvers, Westover could -scarcely believe that this was the -young woman he had been invited to meet. He -had constructed a portrait of her in his imagination -and she did not satisfy any of the details -of the picture. He had expected to find her -tall, bony, Roman-nosed, and sallow. She was -instead of moderate height, plump, with delicately -moulded Grecian features, and a complexion -of pink and white that had no suggestion -of sallowness in it. He had expected -spectacles; instead he found a pair of gray-blue -eyes that looked into his own with candor -and fearless trustfulness, like those of a child -of four or five years of age, and yet with the -confidence and courage that come only of good -breeding allied to perfect innocence. He had -prepared himself to meet an aggressive, self -assertive manner; instead he found all the shyness -of young girlhood, all the modesty of -maiden inexperience, allied with a frank, self-respecting -truthfulness that was fearless because -of its confidence of right intent. -</p> - -<p> -They talked, of course, about the young -woman's impressions of Virginia. -</p> - -<p> -"It is lovely," she said. "You know it is -all a surprise, an astonishment to me." -</p> - -<p> -"How so? Would you mind explaining -that?" -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot exactly explain it. You see it's -like a pleasant dream. You know it made you -happy while you were dreaming it, and you -know it makes you happy after you're awake, -but you can't tell just what it was you dreamed -or just why it made you happy. It is so elusive -that you can't grasp it and put it into words. -I'm still dreaming Virginia, and I know I shall -never be able to tell anybody why the dream is -so delicious. I try to think it out sometimes, -but I can't. Whenever I make up my mind -that it is because of this thing or that, I say -'No, that isn't it.' I suppose it's a thousand -little things put together. But tell me about -this election of yours. I'm talking too much -about myself and my thoughts." -</p> - -<p> -"No, you are not. The election doesn't interest -me, and what you've been saying does. -Go on, please. You had more in your mind." -</p> - -<p> -"How can you know that?" she asked in -genuine surprise. -</p> - -<p> -"Because you spoke of 'a thousand little -things.' I wish you would tell me about a -dozen of them, or even half a dozen." -</p> - -<p> -With a world of childlike seriousness in her -wide open eyes the girl responded: -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose I ought not to have said a thousand. -That was an exaggeration, and exaggeration -is as bad as any other kind of fibbing, -isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"In some cases, yes—in some, no. Certainly -it was not so in this case. Your phrase -carried to my mind precisely the thought you -had in your own, and so it was perfectly truthful." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm glad you think so. I try always to -tell the truth." -</p> - -<p> -"So I should imagine. Now will you not -go on and tell me some of the things that please -you in our Virginia life? Is it so different -from your life up North? You see I have -never been North." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, yes, so different! I think most of us -up North are good people, just as I suppose -most people are everywhere. But there's a difference—a -something, I don't know just -what. Yes, I do, too, in part at least, though -I'm not sure I can put it into words. We live -within ourselves, and you don't. We love our -friends and are kind to them, but we aren't -close to them, as people down here are. It is -because we are shy, I suppose. Our attitude -toward money values is different. I don't -know that our people care more about money -than you do, but—well, we take it into account -as you do not. But that isn't what I -mean. There is a certain graciousness in your -ways of living, a warmth, a color—I don't -know what to call it—that fascinates me. -We are scrupulously polite to each other; you -are cordially courteous instead. I suppose that -too is because we are shyer than you are. We -shrink from self revelation as you do not. I -think we are really as warm-hearted as you -Virginians are, but we are more reserved." -</p> - -<p> -"You are doubtless right. I've observed -that temperamental peculiarity in the Northern -men I've met. At the University there was -a young man from Boston who became my -chum under rather peculiar circumstances, and -I studied him closely. Because of a certain -delicacy of constitution which rendered your -Boston winters dangerous to his health, he was -sent to the University of Virginia instead of -Harvard. He didn't know our ways, and as -a 'Yankee'—you know how unjustly that -word has come to have evil significance with -us—he was a good deal shunned, and things -were said, and—well, it so came about that -he and I became chums and occupied a room -together on the lawn." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know," she answered dreamily, as -if recalling a story. "But you are suppressing -the truth, Mr. Westover." -</p> - -<p> -In an astonishment that well nigh made him -spring from his chair, he asked: -</p> - -<p> -"How do you know that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Our hostess is rising," she replied with a -calm dignity that was fascinating to the young -man. "We ladies must leave you gentlemen -to your wine and cigars." -</p> - -<p> -"I do not take wine," he replied, "and as -for cigars I shall gladly give them up in favor -of a further conversation with you. If you -permit, I will quit the table with you." -</p> - -<p> -"There!" she exclaimed. "That's one of -the 'thousand' things I spoke of. In Virginia -you gentlemen manifest a certain deference -toward women that I have seen nowhere else. -It is gallantly protective, respectfully, not servilely -submissive, a tribute of strength to weakness -which carries with it no reflection upon -the weakness, and to women it is the most -fascinating thing imaginable. I've expressed -it lamely, but—" and with that she took a -handful of cigars from the passing box and -added: -</p> - -<p> -"At any rate your courtesy to me shall -not cost you your smoke. We won't go -into the drawing room, but into the porch. -The day is mild, and I want to tell you that -story." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me first," he said as they passed into -the porch, "how you happen to know anything -about it." -</p> - -<p> -"It is simple enough. I've heard my brother -tell the story with enthusiasm many, many -times." -</p> - -<p> -"Your brother?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. Holmes Wentworth is my elder -brother. My mother was married twice, you -know." -</p> - -<p> -"I see. I didn't know. If I had known—" -</p> - -<p> -"If you had known you wouldn't have -spoken of the matter at all. And as it was, -you were suppressing all the interesting facts. -Now I'm going to relate them according to -the gospel of Holmes Wentworth. In a debating -society one night he expressed some opinions -that gave offence to certain of the students, -and some proposal of censure was made -and hotly advocated. You opposed it, declaring -that debate without absolute free speech -must be a mockery. Your impassioned utterance -won approval, and the resolution was -voted down with only three or four men -voting for it. They were not Virginians -and—" -</p> - -<p> -"They were the sons of negro traders, every -man of them," interrupted Westover; "and -for the negro trader and his belongings Virginia -gentlemen have neither recognition nor -tolerance. They are the vilest—" -</p> - -<p> -He paused in search of a more effective -epithet, and she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"I know all about that," she said, "and you -needn't bite an inch off your next cigar by -way of expressing yourself. Let me go on -with the story. Those 'lewd fellows of the -baser sort' went down into Charlottesville and -organized a crew of ruffians to drive Holmes -Wentworth out of the University and out of -Virginia. You heard of the thing, and arming -yourself with all the Colt's revolvers you -could borrow, you hurried into the town. -There you found Holmes sorely beset by a -dozen armed ruffians and a crowd of other -jeering dissolutes. You pushed him up into -a corner, thrust a pair of the pistols into his -hands, and took your place beside him, saying: -'If they rush us, shoot with both hands, and -<i>shoot to kill</i>; there's no good in wasting ammunition.' -Then you called out to the mob: -'Now do your worst, you cowards! But the -first man that crosses that curbstone dies the -death of the dog that he is, and we'll send -some others to—' really you used some dreadful -language, Mr. Westover, which I can't repeat, -though I know it all by heart. And a -little later, after the mob had quailed before -you, you swore worse than ever, ordering -them to disperse or you'd fire into them and -send some of them to the place you had already -mentioned. Oh, it was glorious! But the -sheriff came and drove the crowd away. You -see I know the whole story. Do you wonder -that I find things to like in Virginia? Then -you took Holmes to live in the same room -with you, and after you learned to understand -him as well as he already understood you, he -and you became bosom friends." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," he replied, throwing away a -cigar that he had forgotten to light; "but -really Holmes's imagination is creative and he -has made too much of a trifle." -</p> - -<p> -"He hasn't any imagination at all," she replied; -"he's the most prosaic, literal, realistic -fact mongerer imaginable, as you very well -know. But now I'm going to turn woman -again and talk about myself." -</p> - -<p> -Westover thought that about the most tactful -turning of a conversation that he had ever -known. But she gave him no time to wonder -over it. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm staying at The Oaks, you know, with -Margaret Conway. She's the very sweetest, -truest, loveliest girl I ever knew. She's fit to -be the wife of the noblest man in Virginia." -</p> - -<p> -Westover winced, and the girl observed the -fact without recognizing it in any way. Instead -she went on: -</p> - -<p> -"You see she was my guest for six weeks -a year ago, and I'm returning her visit and -incidentally enjoying life better than I ever -dreamed that one could do. By the way, -there's to be a dance at Dr. Carver's over at -Fighting Creek, wherever that is, to-morrow -night—no, it's the next night, and as there is -to be some sort of public meeting near there -that day, I suppose I shall see you at the -party." -</p> - -<p> -At that moment there was a double irruption -from the dining room on the one side -and the drawing room on the other, into the -porch to see an autumn sunset of peculiar gorgeousness. -A little later Boyd Westover took -his leave, and bidding Jack Towns follow at -his convenience, set out for Wanalah. -</p> - -<p> -As he went he found himself thinking of -Millicent Danvers with far more admiration -and greatly tenderer sentiment than he had believed -himself capable of feeling toward any -woman since Margaret had been lost to him. -</p> - -<p> -"She is certainly charming," he said to himself; -then correcting his thought he said, "No, -that is not the word; it is commonplace, conventional, -cheap, and nothing commonplace, -conventional or cheap can describe Millicent -Danvers. She is all woman—that's it, and -I can't imagine anything better as belonging -to this world or the next. She is honest, truthful, -genuine, but those are ordinary virtues, -and her virtues are not confined to the ordinary. -She is sympathetic with all things that -are essentially right and of good report. Still, -that is not the secret of her charm, for many -women—perhaps most women—are all that. -She has high ideals and she is loyal to them. -She's the sort of woman Jephtha's daughter is -supposed to have been, and at the same time -she has all the qualities that make the story -of Ruth the greatest masterpiece of all literature. -Heroism is hers, and gentleness not less. -She is a Joan of Arc and she is the most trusting -child that was ever gently dandled on one's -knee. I have it! She has faith; she believes; -she trusts, and in her belief she dares and honors -daring. Heroism is to her an object of -worship; devotion a divine inspiration; truth -an inborn characteristic. It is just as I said -before—she is all woman, and in all God's -work he created nothing else so good or so -great as that." -</p> - -<p> -As he reached this point in his meditations -he was passing the outer gates of The Oaks -plantation, and suddenly his thought reverted -to Margaret. -</p> - -<p> -"She, too, is a woman of that type," he reflected. -"I do not understand her silence, but -I should be unworthy of any woman's love if -I doubted her truth. I will not doubt her. I -will let no other take her place in my heart so -long as I live. She is all that Millicent Danvers -is, and to me she is more and always -must be. She is the woman who gave me -love for love, and even in an estrangement that -can now never be undone, I cannot forget the -troth we plighted before Fate interposed to -spoil my life. I shall not attend the dance at -Dr. Carver's." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap25"></a> -XXV -<br /> -THE GREAT RENUNCIATION -</h3> - -<p> -The drizzling rain that had marred the -day had ceased during the afternoon. -The late October sun had set in a -golden glory while yet Westover lingered by -the side of Millicent Danvers in the porch of -the Magister homestead. The evening that -followed was irresistibly tempting to lovers of -the out of doors. -</p> - -<p> -Two men sat in converse in the porch at -Wanalah. -</p> - -<p> -Two women sat in converse in the porch at -The Oaks. -</p> - -<p> -The two men were Boyd Westover and Jack -Towns. -</p> - -<p> -The two women were Margaret Conway and -Millicent Danvers. -</p> - -<p> -The conversations in the two porches were -utterly unlike in substance, in tone and in effect. -Nevertheless they were not unrelated—in -part at least. -</p> - -<p> -Jack Towns had come to give an account of -his stewardship, but Westover, with his habitual -indifference to petty details, insisted upon -it that the report should be broadly general. -</p> - -<p> -"When a man has arranged a matter," he -said, "involving nine seven times over, I like -him to say sixty-three at the outset, instead of -seven times nine. I hate to multiply and divide -and add and subtract." -</p> - -<p> -"Why the deuce are you doing it, then?" -demanded Jack. -</p> - -<p> -"As how?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why by making the wholly needless and -utterly idle computation that seven times nine -is sixty-three. Why didn't you just say you -liked totals rather than the factors producing -them?" -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose it is because I never studied law -and therefore haven't a well ordered mind." -</p> - -<p> -"And I don't suppose anything of the sort. -I suppose it's because your mind is fascinated -with some other subject—and by the way she -really is charming—so that it wearies you to -think of anything else. Perhaps you'll feel -otherwise when you hear what I have to tell -you. Are you ready to listen?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, certainly. Go on." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well then. That father of yours was -never so wise in all his life as when he bought -all that mining land up in the Rocky Mountains. -I don't know and I can't even guess -how he found out the value of what he was -buying." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps he didn't," said Boyd. "May be -he was simply coppering on the ace and taking -the chances." -</p> - -<p> -"I had thought of that. It's the most probable -solution. However that may be, he managed -to buy Golconda and Ophir and California -and Australia and the mint and the assay -office all in one when he disbursed a few thousand -dollars for about the most desolate spot -on earth, a place where you not only can't raise -a potato but can't even boil one because of the -altitude. It takes half an hour up there to produce -a soft-boiled egg. You can boil water in -two minutes, and as it boils it is so cool you -can bathe in it half a minute later. I have -some counterfeit continental currency in a cabinet -at my house, and upon my word, if anybody -had offered me all the land your father -bought for you up there in exchange for one -of those old and doubly discredited shin-plasters, -I wouldn't have made the trade." -</p> - -<p> -"Then the whole thing—" -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing of the kind. I didn't say that or -suggest it. I've put your land and mining -rights into a new company that already has -machinery and management and technical -skill and brains established there. The stock -of that company will pay heaven only knows -how many hundred per cent. per annum in the -way of dividends, and thirty-nine per cent. of -it is yours. By way of boot, as horse traders -call it, I brought away nine hundred and fifty -thousand dollars in sight drafts on New York -and Boston. I tried hard to force them to -make it a million just for the name of the -thing, but I couldn't because they are men of -affairs with no sense of the picturesque. And -after all—" -</p> - -<p> -"What on earth am I to do with all that -money?" asked Boyd in a tone of distressed -perplexity. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you'll manage that easily enough after -you get used to having it. And if you don't -want to bother yourself about it, you needn't. -I've already invested it for you, acting under -my blanket power of attorney, so that -the interest is all you'll have to look out -for." -</p> - -<p> -"What have you done with it, Jack?" -</p> - -<p> -"In view of the disturbed condition of politics -in this country and the rumors of possible -war, I have had something more than half of -it sent to the Barings in London to be invested -in British consols and French rentes. The rest -is invested in Virginia sixes and other good, -interest paying bonds, and is in the vaults of -August Belmont & Co. in New York. By way -of providing you with pocket money, I've -placed twenty-five thousand dollars to your -credit in the Farmers' Bank of Virginia. -There. There isn't a seven times nine problem -in that whole story for you to wrestle with. -You've got only your sixty-three to consider, -and when you grow quite sane again you can -go over the detailed statements that I shall -leave with you. Now tell me, what does it -mean—Colonel Conway's attitude I refer to -of course." -</p> - -<p> -"Frankly, I don't know." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me all you do know, and perhaps I -can figure out the rest. You see it doesn't -appall me to have a seven to multiply by a -nine." -</p> - -<p> -"As I said before, I don't know. Colonel -Conway's attitude is a puzzle to me. Either -he thinks I've done something to offend, or he -doesn't. If he thinks so, it isn't conceivable -that he should sulk. It is his habit in such -cases to make an open issue of the matter. -He's a fighter, you know, and not a moody, -secretive hater. If he doesn't think I have -done anything that should offend him, I cannot -understand why he does not call upon me, and -especially I don't understand why he avoided -meeting me by staying away from the Court -House to-day, where I happen to know he had -important business. I shall challenge his attitude -pretty soon and force some sort of explanation." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, and by way of preparation for that, -you are falling in love with the girl from Boston. -That will complicate matters charmingly. -Really, Boyd, for a man of brains, education, -culture and all that, you now and then make -the most elaborately embroidered idiot of yourself -I ever knew." -</p> - -<p> -"But I'm not in love with Miss Danvers; -I never saw her until to-day." -</p> - -<p> -"I quite understand that. Nevertheless -after you have met her three or four times -more, you'll make the mistake of thinking -yourself in love with her, and you'll court her -and she will accept you—for she's positively -daffy about you, as I easily found out after you -left this evening. Then you'll awake to the -fact that after all a man's affections are not -so easily transferred as shares of stock are. -You've never told me so, but I know, nevertheless, -that the one love of your life is for -Margaret Conway, and if you permit yourself -to attempt a transfer of that passion, you'll -repent it in sackcloth and ashes so long as you -live. No, don't interrupt me. I'm in desperate -earnest, and I'm going to say my say out, -even if it results in your ordering my horse and -bidding me be gone from Wanalah forever. -Now listen to me. I once had a case of quarrelling -heirs to deal with. If they had been -left to their own devices, the whole estate they -were fighting for would have been dissipated -in chancery proceedings. I went to each of -them separately and compelled each to tell me -his side of the story. I found that the whole -trouble lay in a lot of mutual misunderstandings, -as most quarrels do. I multiplied seven -by nine and found it made sixty-three, and -after a little I got all of them to accept sixty-three -as the product of the factors. In other -words, I settled the whole affair, merely by -finding out both sides of the facts. -</p> - -<p> -"Now in this case of yours, I am satisfied -that the entire trouble arises from a mutual -misunderstanding. I insist that you shall tell -me all the facts as you understand them. I -shall find means of discovering just what the -facts are as the other side understands them. -It is impertinent in an extreme degree for me -to inquire into the matter at all. But in the -practice of the law it is my function and duty -to be impertinent. Go on, then, and tell me the -facts as you understand them." -</p> - -<p> -When Jack began his speech, Westover -foresaw what was coming, and was resentfully -determined to permit no trespass of such sort -upon his privacy. But before Jack had finished, -the old dream of life and love, with -Margaret for its saint and sovereign, had revived -in his mind. What if, after all, Jack -Towns should be able to unravel the mystery -of Margaret's silence and open a way for him? -In that moment all the love he had cherished -for Margaret surged back upon his soul in an -overwhelming flood that made all other women -objects of courteous but complete indifference. -He saw clearly that no woman on earth could -ever take the place in his heart that this one -woman had made her own. He could not even -conjecture how the result could be brought -about, but the very dream of it so far fascinated -him that he was ready to put aside all reserve -and respond in perfect candor to Jack Towns's -impertinence. -</p> - -<p> -"I hardly know how to tell the story, Jack," -he responded, "but I'll tell it somehow, if -you'll give me time. Margaret and I were -brought up together. Never mind that; it is -unimportant. The time came when I loved her -and she loved me, and we told each other so. -With her father's enthusiastic consent we became -engaged, and it was planned that the -marriage should take place during the late -summer—as soon as I should get the affairs -of Wanalah adjusted. With that in view I -went to Richmond. You know what happened -there. I wrote to Margaret many times. I -got no word of reply. I hoped for her sympathy; -I had silence instead. I expected Colonel -Conway to come to my side during my trouble, -and to lend me at least the encouragement of -belief in me. He neither came nor sent a line -of sympathy in support of my courage. Even -the death of my mother—the cruellest blow -that fate had ever dealt me—brought no word -or line from him or from Margaret. When -my name was cleared of stigma by the confession -of the real culprit, I came back here to -Wanalah with the avowed purpose of making -necessary preparations for my sojourn in the -mountains. In point of fact, as I know now—my -purpose was to open the way for some communication -between Wanalah and The Oaks. -No such communication came. Colonel Conway -did not call upon me, and Margaret sent -me no line. Since then Colonel Conway has -emphasized his disapproval of me in other -ways, as you are aware." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, well? You believe yourself possessed -of ordinary common sense, I suppose?" asked -Jack Towns in the tone he was in the habit of -using when cross examining a witness whom -he intended to discomfit. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, of course." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you acquainted with Margaret Conway?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, of course you know—" -</p> - -<p> -"I know nothing. I'm trying to find out. -Answer the question. Are you acquainted -with Margaret Conway?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. I've known her ever since she was -born." -</p> - -<p> -"Is she the sort of woman who would or -could do what she appears to have done in -this case? Is it conceivable that she has left -you in a crisis like that which you have gone -through, without a word of reply to letters received -from you? Is it probable? Is it even -possible? Is it thinkable?" -</p> - -<p> -"Apparently—" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, hang 'apparently.' Apparently the -sun circles round the earth, but we know better. -Apparently the moon is made of green cheese, -but it isn't. Apparently you are a crass idiot, -but in the ultimate analysis you are nothing of -the kind. Now answer my question: Is it -probable or even conceivably possible that under -the circumstances of your trouble in Richmond, -Margaret Conway, pledged as she was -to be your wife, and possessed as she is of an -exalted conception of womanly truth and -honor, and saturated as she is with the courage -of a proud race, the courage that does duty -and dares consequences—is it conceivably -possible that she has under such circumstances -sat still and left unanswered letters received -from you in your travail?" -</p> - -<p> -"It seems unaccountable—" began Boyd, -and his companion interrupted him: -</p> - -<p> -"Nobody has asked you to account for that -which could not have happened. I am asking -you to search your own soul and say whether -or not this thing can be true. If anybody -should tell me that Boyd Westover had set up -a counterfeiting plant in one of his barns and -was busily 'shoving the queer,' would you expect -me to go bothering about how such a thing -could have come about? Would you not expect -rather that I should give the story the lie -without further ado? This is a like case. If -you know Margaret Conway, you know she -has not been guilty of this stupendous wrong. -You have no right to go on acting as if she -had been." -</p> - -<p> -"You are right of course," Boyd replied, -"so far at least as the principle is concerned. -But how do you account for the facts?" -</p> - -<p> -"It isn't my business to account for the -facts. I know and you know that under the -circumstances which arose in this case, Margaret -Conway <i>did not leave unanswered any -letter she received from you</i>. Either she did -not receive your letters, or you did not receive -her replies, or, more probably, both things -happened." -</p> - -<p> -"But how could that be? I—" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. I'm not the proper person -to ask. I'm going up to bed now, if you don't -mind. I've said all I had in mind to say." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The conversation in the other porch was -not like this, and yet in its way it was not -unlike it. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope you enjoyed yourself at the Magisters' -to-day, Millicent," said Margaret as the -two seated themselves in the porch. "I'm -sorry I couldn't be with you, but you see old -Judy was very low, and I really had to stay -with her." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course. Only it's all an astonishment -to me—I mean the way in which you look -after negroes who are ill." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, of course we must do that—" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I understand now, but I didn't. I -thought you treated them as so many cattle. -Of course I knew you looked after your own -maids and other personal serving women, but -I thought field negroes—" -</p> - -<p> -"I know, dear. The whole system, is bad -and I wish we were rid of it. But people up -North always imagine that its worst possibilities -are the daily facts, and we naturally resent -that. We aren't angels by any means, but at -least we are human beings. Never mind that -now. Tell me about the dinner and the company." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I didn't see much of the company. -The Judge and Mr. Towns, and the Judge's -wife and the Commonwealth's Attorney talked -hotly about law things that I didn't at all understand, -so I talked mainly with Mr. Boyd -Westover. Margaret, I'd like to spend my -whole life listening to him talk. You see he's -so big and strong, and yet so gentle and chivalric. -He makes you feel that you ought to -think yourself worth while, because he respects -you so, and is so deferential to you. Why, -even my poor little thinkings seemed to me of -some account because of the way in which he -listened to me and treated my utterances. I -tell you, Margaret, he is the most perfect type -of the gentleman I ever saw or dreamed of." -</p> - -<p> -The night was starlit, but there was no -moon as yet, for it was far past the full, and -the porch was dark. Margaret Conway was -grateful for the shadow. It hid her countenance -and prevented self-revelation of a kind -that must have filled her soul with humiliation -and shame. It gave her time in which to recover -her self-control. Presently she forced -herself to say: -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Westover is certainly a good example -of our best type of gentleman. You'll like him -more as you become better acquainted with -him, and fortunately you'll meet him again almost -immediately. He's sure to be at the dance -at Dr. Carver's over at Fighting Creek." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, he's to speak over there. Oh, Margaret, -I wonder if I might hear his speech? -Do they let women attend? You see he is so -big and brave and manly and <i>so</i> handsome. -He's sure to make a speech worth listening -to. Do you think I might get a chance to -hear it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, dear, certainly," responded Margaret -in a voice that in spite of her had something -of hardness in it. "I will arrange that. You'll -sit in a carriage on the outskirts of the crowd, -and you can hear every word, unless—" -</p> - -<p> -"Unless what, Margaret?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I was only thinking out loud. You -see your carriage will be surrounded by half -a dozen young men, all in love with you, all -madly jealous, and all eager to win and hold -your attention. If you can suppress them, -you'll hear the whole speech." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me, Margaret, have you known him -a long time?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, all my life." -</p> - -<p> -"I see," she answered. What she had in -her mind was that the intimacy between these -two was perhaps too close and too familiar to -permit a softer feeling to grow up between -them. "Otherwise," she reflected, "they -would have been lovers of course. How could -either of them help that?" -</p> - -<p> -But she gave no utterance to the thought. -She only subconsciously rejoiced that matters -were as she supposed them to be. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think I can be with you over at -Fighting Creek, Millicent," said Margaret -after she had mastered herself and formed a -plan. -</p> - -<p> -"But why not? I shall not go if you can't," -answered the girl with emphasis. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, yes, you will. I wish you to be there. -You'll meet everybody in this whole region -who is worth meeting. I wouldn't have you -miss that on any account. Besides, I should -get up a very unlovely reputation for selfishness, -if I suffered you to miss such a festivity -merely because I can't enjoy it with -you." -</p> - -<p> -"But why can't you, Margaret?" -</p> - -<p> -"There are several reasons. For one thing -my father is laid up with an attack of the gout, -you know. That's why he turned back after -he had started to Court to-day. He doesn't -seem to be suffering much, but gout is treacherous, -and I must be within call of him. Then -again there are two or three cases of fever at -the far quarters." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as if fearing to have the sufficiency of -her excuses too closely questioned, she hurriedly -added: -</p> - -<p> -"I've planned it all beautifully, Millicent. -I'll send you over to Fighting Creek in The -Oaks carriage. My maid shall go with you -as escort, and I'll send for Carter Barksdale to -go on horseback as your gallant outrider. You -see Carter is only seventeen years of age, and -he reads Byron and Shelley and Scott till he's -saturated with romance. He's perfectly charming, -and you'll enjoy his escort all the more -because he's just old enough to fall madly in -love with you at first sight, and just young -enough to be afraid to tell you so. He's a -Virginia type that I want you to meet. That -sort of boy is at his best when he's seventeen -and takes himself so seriously that he shrinks -from the open declaration of the fancies he -mistakes for passions. He will revel in a -silent, unspoken, unrequited love for one as -far removed from his approach as the northern -star, 'of whose true, fixed, and resting quality' -he will quote, 'there is no fellow in the firmament.' -Of course, after he has thoroughly enjoyed -the unspeakable wretchedness of a -blighted passion, he will fall in love with the -next young woman several years older than -himself who comes in his way, and have the -romance all over again." -</p> - -<p> -"Margaret," said Millicent seriously and -tenderly, "you are not happy to-night. You -are cynical. Something has disturbed you. -Don't you feel that you can tell me what it -is and let me share your sorrow as freely as -you let me share your more joyful moods?" -</p> - -<p> -Margaret Conway was too inherently truthful -to protest that she had no cause of unhappiness -when she had. But, with an instinctive -flinching from self-revelation, which every sensitive -soul experiences at such a time, she carefully -framed her speech for purposes of avoidance. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think I'm cynical, Millicent. I -don't feel so. I meant only to be amusing in -talking of something that always amuses me. -It has always seemed to me funny that young -men should be so desperately afraid of us -young women even when we are trembling in -holy awe of them. I've seen so much of that -sort of thing. Sometimes it becomes tragical -and spoils lives that do not deserve to be -spoiled. I knew one case in which it was saved -from doing that only by the impertinent interference -of a very peculiar young woman." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it's a story," exclaimed Millicent, -"and a love story at that. Tell it please." -</p> - -<p> -"It isn't much of a story, but I'll tell it. -I had a governess whom I loved dearly and -with reason. She taught me all I know, -and—" -</p> - -<p> -"She must have been a woman of wonderful -acquirements then." -</p> - -<p> -"She was and is, but such culture as I possess -is not an adequate indication of her learning -or of her capacity to teach. I owe her all -I ever learned; I owe to my own indifference -all the defects in my education." -</p> - -<p> -There was something in Margaret's tone as -she said this, that attracted Millicent's attention. -</p> - -<p> -"She is certainly cynical, self-accusative, unsatisfied," -she reflected. "She isn't happy, -and it behooves you, Millicent Danvers, to find -out the cause and remedy the condition if you -can." -</p> - -<p> -Without uttering that thought, she said: -</p> - -<p> -"You aren't telling me the love story, Margaret, -and I'm eager to hear that before I let -Carter Barksdale fall in love with me. You -see I'm young and wholly inexperienced, and -I naturally want to learn how such things are -conducted." -</p> - -<p> -Margaret laughed lowly, as she thought: -"A girl like you doesn't need lessons in the -conduct of love affairs. To such as you, -love,—like 'to write and read, comes by nature.'" -</p> - -<p> -Then she resumed her story: -</p> - -<p> -"Apart from her learning, Miss Jane was -an altogether admirable woman, and very naturally -our neighbor, Mr. Skipwith, fell in love -with her. He came over here to see her every -day for more than a year. He sent her flowers -from his garden, and when the frosts put an -end to that he built a green house, in order -that he might keep on sending her flowers. -But somehow he never could get up courage -enough to ask for her hand, until one day -Harriet Middleton brought about a crisis. -Harriet was an English girl of peculiarly good -family whose father had migrated to Virginia -in search of health. Harriet was almost an -old maid, though not quite. She was blunt -and aggressive in manner, though as gentle -and good as anybody could be when you came -really to know her. She was quick and shrewd -of observation, and it did not take her long to -find out how matters stood between Mr. Skipwith -and Miss Jane. But the days and weeks -went on and still there were no results. One -evening when the moon shone dreamily -through a soft haze, Mr. Skipwith and Miss -Jane sat here in the porch, while Harriet and -I walked away through the orchard, by way -of leaving them alone, and picking up some -good apples. When we returned, the pair were -sitting precisely as we had left them, at a respectful -distance from each other, and both -their attitude and their manner bore convincing -witness that even the hazy moonlight had failed -to bring about a crisis. -</p> - -<p> -"Harriet's patience gave way. She stalked -into the porch, with that horse-like tread that -Englishwomen use for a walk, and, taking her -stand between the two, said: -</p> - -<p> -"'You two people love each other. You -want to tell each other about it but you don't -dare; so I'm telling you instead. Now that -I've introduced the subject, perhaps you'll talk -it out.' -</p> - -<p> -"With that she passed on into the house, -and a few weeks later Mr. Skipwith and Miss -Jane were married." -</p> - -<p> -"And have they lived happily ever afterwards?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed they have. They are well to do -and very hospitable, and a pleasanter place -to visit than the Skipwith plantation doesn't -exist in Virginia." -</p> - -<p> -"And Miss Middleton?" -</p> - -<p> -"She's enjoying herself, bossing an insane -asylum. She's only a patient there, but she -believes she's the superintendent, and they let -her give all the orders she thinks fit. Matilda," -addressing a maid who at that moment appeared -with some lemonade, "send for the -carriage please, and send word that I want old -Michael to drive me. Johnny is apt to go to -sleep." -</p> - -<p> -"But where on earth are you going to drive -at eleven o'clock at night?" asked Millicent -in wonder. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, you know I have some fever patients -out at the far quarters." -</p> - -<p> -She was at pains not to say that she was -going to visit them, though she half intended -to do so. Her desire—imperative and passionate—was -to separate herself from human -companionship and think out the problems -that beset her soul. -</p> - -<p> -"But mayn't I go with you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no. You might get the fever, and -besides, you must get your beauty sleep. After -you are married to—to some Virginia gentleman, -and become the mistress of a plantation, -you will of course look after your sick servants. -Just now it is your duty to go to bed. There's -an old novel 'Dunallan' on the dressing case -in my room. Go in there and get it. It's the -very sleepiest thing I ever saw in my life. -Read half a dozen pages of it and you'll be -sound asleep. Good night. I won't speak to -you when I come back, lest I disturb your -slumbers. Oh, by the way, tell Diana to put -three candles on my candle stand and place -it close to my bed. And tell her please to go -to bed as soon as she gets things ready in our -rooms. I shall not want her to-night, and she -has had a hard day." -</p> - -<p> -As she finished speaking the carriage drove -up, with the white-haired old coachman -Michael on the box. He had long ago ceased -to have active duties of any kind to do, but -when his "young missus" asked for him to -drive her anywhere, at any time and under any -circumstances, the loyal old servitor was ready -and eager in response. He had driven Margaret's -mother on her wedding journey to the -mountain resorts. He had driven Margaret -herself to her christening. He had grown old -but never lax in the service, and now in his -old age, when he was excused from all service, -it was his chief joy to drive his "young -missus" whenever she honored him by asking -that he should do so. -</p> - -<p> -On this occasion he saw clearly enough that -Margaret was distraught, and when she entered -the carriage he forbore to distress her -with questions. He simply picked out the best -roads and followed them. After awhile she -spoke to him. -</p> - -<p> -"I reckon you'd better drive to the far quarters, -Uncle Michael. I ought to see the sick -ones." -</p> - -<p> -"Dey ain't sick, Miss Margaret. Leastways -dey ain't sick enough for you to go botherin' -'bout 'em. Dey's jes' a sufferin' dere own -calamities. Dey stole a shoat night before last -an' gorged on it all night. 'Course dey had a -fever yestiddy an' to-day. Don't you go a -botherin' 'bout dem no 'count niggas, Miss -Margaret. Jes' you let ole Michael pick out -de roads fer you and drive you 'bout, comfortable -like." -</p> - -<p> -With this reassuring release from obligation, -the girl sank back among the cushions -as the late rising, gibbous moon came up -from the horizon, and abandoned herself to -thought. -</p> - -<p> -She was a woman, young, strong, passionate; -she cherished still that dream of love -which had so recently inspired and illumined -her life. She could not understand why or -how it had been snatched away by circumstance. -It was hard for her to believe that -all she had hoped for and held dear had been -banished from her life by a final, arbitrary, inexplicable -decree of fate. -</p> - -<p> -"And yet," she reflected, "it is so. Between -Boyd and me there is a great gulf -fixed, and nothing can furnish a bridge across -it." -</p> - -<p> -Then another thought occurred to her. -</p> - -<p> -"Suppose I should write to Boyd and ask -him for an explanation? -</p> - -<p> -"No, I could not do that without sacrificing -that pride of womanhood without which a -woman is nothing and worse than nothing. -No, that can never be. I wonder why he does -not himself offer an explanation and seek a -restoration of old relations? No, that can -never be. It would involve such a sacrifice of -manhood as is inconceivable. There is never -any explanation possible, never any solution to -this riddle, never anything." -</p> - -<p> -She sat still for awhile, not thinking at all. -Suddenly she reflected: -</p> - -<p> -"After all it is his happiness that I care for. -My own is of no consequence. He is a man, -and it will be easy for him to transfer his affections. -Men are not like women in that -way. Millicent will make a fitter wife for him -than I ever could. He will be happy with her, -and as for me—well, it doesn't matter. I -have my duties and my occupations. The rest -is of no consequence. He shall love Millicent -and marry her, and may be, when I'm an old, -old woman, he and I will come to understand -each other again, at least so far that neither -shall accuse the other of treachery." -</p> - -<p> -With a mind attuned to the great renunciation, -she called to Michael and bade him drive -back to The Oaks. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap26"></a> -XXVI -<br /> -MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS -</h3> - -<p> -Millicent Danvers was a -frank, open-minded young woman, -almost childlike in her simplicity of -soul in every case where candor was met with -equal candor. But her childlikeness included -a child's subtle instinct as to the moods and -motives of others, and where affection -prompted her scrutiny she was not often at -fault in her judgments of human conduct. -</p> - -<p> -When Margaret, refusing her company, -drove away that night Millicent knew perfectly -that her friend's spirit was disturbed in -some unusual way, for until then these two -had been comrades in every such expedition, -and Margaret had been the one most insistent -that they should be so. -</p> - -<p> -"I want you to see every phase of our -Virginia life," she had many times said, "so -that when you go back to Boston you may -know what there is in it to approve, what to -admire, what to condemn, and what merely to -laugh at. For I'm sure there is much in it -that must strike Northern people as ludicrous. -Anyhow I want you to see it all and understand -all of it. Then I'm not afraid to trust -our life and our ways and our impulses to your -hands for explanation and exposition to people -who are ignorant of them or know them only -by prejudiced hearsay." -</p> - -<p> -The events of this day, and especially Margaret's -own conduct had been so different from -all this as to awaken curiosity and compel attention. -Both the curiosity and the attention -had a deep and sincere affection for their -prompting. -</p> - -<p> -When Margaret drove away and the late -rising, gibbous moon appeared above the tree -tops and shone softly through the windows of -Millicent's southeast room, the girl sat down -there by a casement to wonder, to conjecture, -to "guess," and, better still, to "think this -thing out to the end." -</p> - -<p> -"There is something wrong with Margaret," -was her first thought. "She is disturbed -and distressed, and she isn't the kind -of person to be disturbed and distressed without -adequate reason. Why didn't she go over -to the Court House with me this morning and -dine at the Magisters'? She intended to do -so. She and I had planned it all out, and she -had accepted Mrs. Magister's invitation. It -was only at the last moment that she decided -to stay and nurse her father's purely mythical -gout. It was only five minutes before that -that a note had come from Mrs. Magister, -saying that Mr. Boyd Westover had come -down out of the mountains and that she -should 'compel' him to be one of her dinner -guests. I wonder if that news brought on the -attack of gout, and decided Margaret to stay -at the Oaks and nurse it? -</p> - -<p> -"Then again it is clear that Margaret does -not expect Mr. Westover to visit her in the -near future. I wonder why? His plantation -adjoins this, and everybody says the two -families have been intimate for generations. -There must be some special reason. In fact -there is. Somebody told me to-day that Colonel -Conway had refused to join in the nomination -of Mr. Westover, and that the fact is -injuring Mr. Westover's canvass. I wonder -what it means? Naturally Mr. Westover and -Margaret should be sweethearts, and after a -while they should marry each other. I wonder -why things haven't gone that way? May -be they have been too intimate in their childhood. -No, that isn't the solution. It doesn't -explain Margaret's care to avoid Mr. Westover. -It doesn't explain her plan to send me -to Fighting Creek without her. It doesn't -explain her drive to-night. It doesn't explain -anything. If they were mere intimates, too -intimate to think of love, Mr. Westover would -be a frequent guest at The Oaks and the relations -of the two would be comradely." -</p> - -<p> -She paused for a while in the formulation -of her thinking into orderly phrases. Then -she reflected: -</p> - -<p> -"When I mentioned Margaret to him at -dinner to-day he distinctly winced. Every -time I have mentioned him to her to-night, -she has turned the conversation to other subjects." -</p> - -<p> -There was another long pause in the formulation -of her thought. At last her common -sense asserted itself and she said to herself: -</p> - -<p> -"Millicent Danvers, you are treading upon -dangerous ground, and you must get off it as -quickly as possible. There has been a love affair -between Margaret and Westover. You -can't shut your eyes to that fact or pretend not -to see it. Some break has come, but such -breaks may be repaired, and it is your function -to repair this one." -</p> - -<p> -A wave of melancholy swept over her soul -as she thought of this. She mightily admired -Boyd Westover, and she had even dreamed -a little dream with regard to him. She was -a proud maiden in her way and as she searched -her heart there in the moonlight, she decided -that she had not suffered herself to fall in love -with Westover. -</p> - -<p> -"How could I?" she challenged herself to -answer. "I have met him but once. The -thing is absurd. Besides, no self-respecting -young woman gives her love to any man until -he asks for it. No, of course I'm not in love -with Mr. Westover. It is nothing but admiration -that I feel for him." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as she looked out into the tree-studded -house grounds, where all nature seemed to -sleep in the soft haze of the moonlight, she -added to her thought: -</p> - -<p> -"But it would be easy for such a man to -change a woman's admiration into love by a -phrase, a word, a look into her eyes. Thank -God he has not yet looked into my eyes in that -way, and, God being my helper, he never shall. -After all,—well, after all there are only a few -men in the world that—well, anyhow, it isn't -so terrible a thing to be an old maid, and I'll -do my duty in this case if the stars start from -their courses, as a consequence." Then she -laughed under her breath, and jeered in -mocking fashion at the absurdity of her -thought: -</p> - -<p> -"Of course the stars will do nothing of the -kind. That was a bit of heroics, and I'm not -a heroine of romance. I'm only a simple, honest, -Boston girl. I love Margaret dearly, and -I'm resolved to do all I can to bring about a -reconciliation between her and Mr. Westover, -for I'm satisfied there is need for something -of the sort. That's sane and sensible at any -rate, and the stars have nothing to do with -it." -</p> - -<p> -She had been reading an essay entitled, -"The Great Renunciation," and she was full -of its spirit, almost a devotee to the impulses it -sought to inspire. But as she recalled it she -laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"That had to do with the great religions -of the world. It didn't refer to the case of a -sensible girl who finds herself particularly attracted -by a young man at a first meeting and -decides that she will not let him fall in love -with her because she realizes that the best loved -friend of her life is, or has been or ought to -be his affianced wife. Millicent, I'm ashamed -of you. After all the instruction you've had as -to the conduct of life and the behavior of young -women, this thing is ridiculous." -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless there was sadness in that inexperienced -heart of hers, as she saw the carriage -reënter the house grounds, and herself hastened -to bed lest her friend should discover -her vigil. But if hers had not been the great -renunciation, at least it had been a resolution -of loyalty and good faith, and perhaps in the -eyes of the angels the two things are very -nearly the same. Her exacting New England -conscience at any rate was satisfied, so that it -let her sleep, just as Margaret's Virginia conscience—different -in kind but equally exigent -in its demands—permitted slumber, sweet and -refreshing, to come to her. -</p> - -<p> -When the morning came these two met, -each intently resolved to render to the other -the supreme service of sacrifice, and neither -dreaming of the other's thought. But in all -human affairs circumstance has its part to play, -and while it cannot alter purposes it often plays -havoc with results. It was so in this case. -Things happened, and the happening was more -decisive than the moonlight meditations of a -pair of maidens could possibly be. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap27"></a> -XXVII -<br /> -THE PHILOSOPHY OF JACK TOWNS -</h3> - -<p> -Boyd Westover had the excellent -mental habit of attending carefully to -more than one thing at a time. -</p> - -<p> -Just now he had the election on his hands, -and with it some problems of personal dignity -and repute that required his closest attention. -But he also had Wanalah plantation to look -after, and in view of his long absence he felt -that home affairs were pressing. -</p> - -<p> -Accordingly he was up before the dawn, on -the morning after his arrival, and for half an -hour after dawn he waited, not at all patiently, -for the coming of his overseer, to whom he had -sent a summons over night to be with him "at -the crack of day." Then instead of waiting -longer, he mounted his horse and rode away -on a tour of inspection. -</p> - -<p> -It was well after sunrise when he returned -to find the overseer hitching his horse to the -rack. -</p> - -<p> -"Good afternoon, Mr. Wilkinson," he said; -"I had hoped to see you this morning." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm sorry, sir, but ÃŽ was very tired last -night." -</p> - -<p> -"So was I. I had walked all through the -night before. Never mind that now. I wanted -to see you at dawn. The sun is now half an -hour high. That means that you have wasted -an hour and a half of my time, and my time -is just now precious." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm very sorry, sir—" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't bother to apologize. I can't waste -any further time listening to excuses. Why -are you seeding the Gaston field in wheat? I -directed otherwise, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, sir, the fall has given us good -weather, and we can get in that two hundred -acres as well as not." -</p> - -<p> -"But how about harvesting it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I'll manage that." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, by making the negroes work by -moonlight, as you did last summer to the everlasting -shame of Wanalah plantation, and just -as you made too many hogsheads of tobacco -and too many barrels of corn to the hand. I -have told you before and I tell you now that -I will not have the hands over-worked. Is the -Gaston field seeded?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir. We begin on that to-day." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't seed it. Let it lie fallow." -</p> - -<p> -"But my gracious, Mr. Westover,—" -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind about your gracious. I tell -you not to seed that field. And another thing: -You planted seven hundred thousand hills of -tobacco last year. I want you to write it up -in your hat that four hundred thousand is -Wanalah's limit. I want you to understand -that this plantation is not run for money. If -it supports itself, giving a decent living to the -whites and blacks on it, I shall be satisfied. If -it doesn't quite do that, I'll find a way in which -to make up the deficiency. Now I want you -to give all the negroes on the plantation a -whole holiday to-morrow. I understand -there's to be a big picnic with all-day preaching -over at Mount Moriah church, and I want -everybody on the plantation to attend it. By -the way, Bob!" calling to a passing negro, -"go at once and tell old Joe I want him to -kill two sheep—good fat ones—three shoats -and four turkeys this morning; tell him to -hang 'em in the ice house as soon as they're -dressed, and send them over to Mount -Moriah early to-morrow morning. Do you -hear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yassir!" responded Bob, his mouth already -watering for the share he expected to -eat of the good things thus promised. -</p> - -<p> -"And, Bob, tell Uncle Joe to take them over -there himself and say that Mas' Boyd Westover -hopes the folks will have a good time and get -as much religion as they need." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Boyd," said Jack Towns, who had -sleepily strolled into the porch, "don't you -think—" -</p> - -<p> -"No, decidedly not, Jack. You see Wanalah -is the plantation nearest to Mount Moriah, -and it's the natural base of supplies for a meeting -there. If I don't furnish the provender -they'll steal it out of my pasture, my pig pen -and my turkey yard. I very much prefer that -they should get the things honestly, and it costs -me no more." -</p> - -<p> -Then, returning to business, he said to the -overseer: -</p> - -<p> -"You understand the general spirit of my -instructions, Mr. Wilkinson, and I beg you to -bear it in mind. I'll give more specific orders -from time to time, as they are needed." -</p> - -<p> -"But what about me?" answered the overseer. -"I've got a reputation for makin' more -tobacco to the hand an' more wheat to the acre -an' more corn on top o' that than any other -man as oversees a plantation anywheres for -forty mile around here." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what of it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, it's this a ways. I ain't a-goin' to -lose a reputation I prides myself on. Ef you -don't want your niggers worked fer all they's -worth, perhaps you'd better look out fer another -overseer." -</p> - -<p> -Westover flushed angrily, more at the tone -than at the words, and answered instantly: -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps I had. At any rate I will. I -shall not renew my contract with you for another -year." -</p> - -<p> -The Virginians were very tolerant of insolence -on the part of a negro. Usually they -treated it as badinage, quite harmlessly and -humorously meant. But insolence on the part -of an overseer was always taken seriously and -instantly resented. The overseers constituted -a pariah class, for whom there was tolerance -only so long as they "minded their manners." -</p> - -<p> -As the overseer lingered in hope of some -modification of the sentence he had brought -upon himself, Westover impatiently turned -upon him, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"I think I have nothing more to say to you, -Mr. Wilkinson, and I wish to talk with Mr. -Towns. You may go now." -</p> - -<p> -As the man walked down the road that led -to the outer gates, he muttered: -</p> - -<p> -"I'll git back at him for that. He's a sneak-in' -abolitionist. I'll be over at Fighting Creek -to-morrow, seein's he's made it a holiday here." -</p> - -<p> -"Now I want to talk with you, Jack," said -Westover when the man was well out of earshot. -</p> - -<p> -"So I understood you to say to Mr. Wilkinson; -and you may go on and talk to me -till the cows come home, if it amuses you to do -so, but if you expect me to talk back in any -rational way, you've simply got to wait till -after breakfast. When I've had two cups of -coffee, the best part of a roe herring, three or -four slices of cold ham, a wedge or two of hot -light bread, some beaten biscuit, and one of -your belated cantaloupes, I shall begin to appreciate -the fact that I have a brain. Till then -I decline to consider myself a rational being. -Go on and talk, if you want to." -</p> - -<p> -"I will," answered Westover, passing into -the house. To one of the dining-room servants -he said: -</p> - -<p> -"Serve a pot of coffee to Mr. Towns immediately, -do you hear? Is it ready?" -</p> - -<p> -Half a minute later Cilla appeared in the -porch bearing a tray with coffee and its accessories -daintily arranged upon a napkin. -The servants at Wanalah had not yet lost their -memory of the training they had received in -youth. -</p> - -<p> -"There," said Westover, "saturate your -soul and stimulate your system with coffee. -And by the way, there's a frost-bitten tomato -sliced up to deceive your eyes and your appetite. -How long before breakfast, Cilla?" -</p> - -<p> -"It's a-bein' brung in now," answered the -serving girl, "all but the hot buckwheat cakes, -an' them'll come a little later." -</p> - -<p> -It was the custom of the Virginians to talk -freely at table, paying no heed whatever to the -presence of their servitors. Accordingly, as -soon as Jack Towns began to discover his -brains again, under the influence of a breakfast -that might have made a chatterer of the Sphinx -itself, the two talked of plans. -</p> - -<p> -"My first endeavor," said Westover, "will -be to compel Colonel Conway to declare himself. -To that end, as soon as breakfast is done, -I shall send him a letter that will require a response -of some sort. You see, Jack, his attitude -is far more hurtful to me than the most -aggressive antagonism on his part could be. -Everybody knows that the Westovers and the -Conways have been the most intimate friends -possible throughout generations past. If he -and I had had a quarrel, everybody would understand. -But we have had no quarrel, and so -nobody understands and everybody wonders. -If he believes I was guilty down there in Richmond—" -</p> - -<p> -"He can't think that, unless he's an idiot -of extraordinary capacity for the lunatic misinterpretation -of facts," interrupted Towns. -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps not. Still, I remember hearing a -'Pennsylvania Dutch' magistrate declare from -the bench that 'Nodings is possible mit Gott,' -and so it may be that, he believes that. If so -he has a perfect right to express his belief. -All I ask is that he shall say what it is he has -against me." -</p> - -<p> -"Stuff and nonsense! Rot and rubbish! -Scammony and gamboge! Moonlight, music, -love and flowers! Transcendentalism and -green cheese!" exclaimed Jack Towns, multiplying -words as a man of oratorical habit is -apt to do. "You know perfectly well that he -believes nothing of the sort. Recall our conversation -of last night." -</p> - -<p> -"I remember it perfectly, and that is why -I'm going to write to Colonel Conway this -morning. It may open the way to an explanation." -</p> - -<p> -"It may, of course. But if I were in your -place I'd write to Margaret instead." -</p> - -<p> -"How can I? I have written to her again -and again, and she has not answered. Self-respect -forbids me—" -</p> - -<p> -"I quite understand. It was self-respect -that caused a cat to lose an eye in a scrimmage -rather than explain to the other cat that the -fence he was sitting on was the personal property -of his own master. Never mind. If you -won't write to Margaret, write to her father -by all means. It may provoke a crisis of -some sort, and that is the one thing to be desired -just now." -</p> - -<p> -But Boyd Westover was not destined to send -that letter. He toiled over it half the day and -more. He wrote it in forty different forms. -He used up more letter paper than had been -consumed at Wanalah during a year or more -past, but he could not get the thing into a shape -that would do. Finally he threw down his -pen and turning to Jack Towns said: -</p> - -<p> -"The trouble is, Jack, that when I try to -formulate my complaint there isn't a thing to -challenge or question. Colonel Conway has -not been here to call upon me, but I cannot -decently complain of that. He has refused to -join with others in nominating me, but that too -was his right and I cannot question it. The -whole thing is so negative that really there isn't -a point I can mention as a ground of complaint." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes? Well—" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, well, what? Why don't you say -something?" -</p> - -<p> -"I will. I'll say that you're irritable to-day. -You showed it your confab with your overseer, -who is a very worthy man with an exaggerated -notion of the work a field hand ought to do in -a day. You showed it at breakfast, when you -complained because the buckwheat cakes didn't -make their appearance precisely on time. Is -there anything else you'd like me to say?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. What am I to do in this matter, -by way of bringing about a tolerable situation?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, nothing, of course. I could have told -you that this morning, but you wouldn't have -believed it then. Now that you've exhausted -your literary capacity and most of the Wanalah -stationery in a futile effort to do the impossible, -it may be worth my while to say to -you that in a case of this kind there is nothing -you can do except await events with due respect -for your own dignity. Shut up your -desk and send for some horses. Let's have a -gallop before dinner time. And by the way, -I'd like to ride that young iron gray mare -you've got in your stables. She impresses me -so favorably that I should buy her if she belonged -to anybody who would sell." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, when did you inspect her, Jack? I -hadn't a thought—" -</p> - -<p> -"I know you hadn't, but while you've been -busy at your desk, trying to accomplish the -impossible, I've been down to the stables and -had the mare out for inspection. She's a -beauty and, so far as I know the points of a -horse, she has all of them that are worth while. -She's a Red Eye of course?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes—Red Eye and Nina. She's Nina's -own colt. I'll tell you what I'll do, Jack. If -you'll stay with me, making Wanalah your -home till this confounded election is over,—just -to keep me sane, you know,—the mare -shall be yours, as a souvenir of your safe return -from the Rocky Mountains." -</p> - -<p> -"Done!" exclaimed Jack. "But if I have -to club you by way of keeping you sane, you -won't too greatly mind, will you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not in the least. It's the clubbing I want. -Really, Jack, I often think I haven't quite -grown up and never shall. I have my full -complement of inches, of course, and I can be -dignified upon occasion, but when it comes to -emotional things, somehow—" -</p> - -<p> -"Somehow you're nothing but a romantic, -sentimental boy. I've heard you quote Keats -and Shelley when an arithmetic or a geography -would have been much more to the purpose. -I was born that way myself, and so you see -I understand your malady and sympathize with -you, but as for myself I've worked a complete -cure." -</p> - -<p> -"How did you manage it, Jack?" asked -Westover in amused anticipation. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, easily enough. I have cultivated -catholicity of taste in the matter of girls. -You know all sentimentality in men has its ultimate -origin in their attitude toward women. -Now in sentiment, as in everything else, moderation -is desirable and excess is destructive. -Realizing that fact I have cultivated moderation, -by falling madly in love with every pretty -young woman I have met, and with some pretty -old ones also. But as one encounters a rapid -succession of pretty young women, the habit -of falling in love with each of them is a securely -protective agency. You see I never -have time to become idiotically in love with -one young woman before meeting another -who knocks all that out of my head. To-day's -girl rescues me from yesterday's. It's a case -of one nail driving out another." -</p> - -<p> -"You are the worst cynic I ever knew, -Jack." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps I am. But I see the boys are here -with the horses. Let's be off and away, forgetting -philosophy and girls and pessimism -and moonlight and molasses candy for a time -at least. Is that a quarter of shoat Cilla is -toting from the ice-house? In verity it is, and -a decent respect for its succulent attractiveness -should prompt us to arm ourselves and meet -it with an appetite. So here goes for a good -hard gallop, with stiff fences by the way." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap28"></a> -XXVIII -<br /> -THE EVENTS OF A DAY -</h3> - -<p> -Only once had Westover been interrupted -during his hours of laborious -and futile effort to write his letter to -Colonel Conway. Jack Towns, being an ideal -guest, had occupied himself with books, strolls, -and other silent means of passing the time, so -that his host had been in no way reminded of -his existence. But the weather had not been -so unobtrusive a guest. Considerably before -noon there came a squall which for ten or fifteen -minutes threatened destruction to everything -movable about the place. It unroofed a -cellar door at the back of the house. It carried -away the shed of a tobacco barn, and -curiously enough one of the cook's pigs, which -she was bringing up luxuriously on "pot -liquor and kitchen stuff," disappeared during -the brief hurricane. Whether the obese -porker was really blown away, as most of -the house servants stoutly contended, or -whether it was that some colored person -with an appetite had simultaneously seized -the opportunity and the pig and got away -with both, was a point never accurately determined. -</p> - -<p> -Boyd Westover cared nothing for damages -that might be repaired, but he was sorely distressed -by the wreckage of a favorite mimosa -tree that flourished near one corner of the -porch. He even quitted his writing, when the -little squall had passed away, and with Jack -Towns's very inexpert assistance, attempted -some repairs. But when there arose the question -of sawing off a broken limb, he abandoned -the undertaking, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"We'll leave that till Carley Farnsworth -comes. He's due here to-day to see some of -my people who are ill. He's a much better -horticulturist than either of us, Jack, and besides -he's a surgeon and will know better how -to give the poor tree a chance to grow into -symmetry again." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as he sorrowfully contemplated the -torn and broken mimosa, he muttered: -</p> - -<p> -"I shouldn't have cared half so much if the -squall had blown away every barn I've got. -The ruin of that tree is all that it means to -me." -</p> - -<p> -He little dreamed what other and immeasurably -greater consequences were to come to -him as the result of that brief atmospheric disturbance, -but he was destined, after a time, to -find out. -</p> - -<p> -When the two friends returned from their -ride of a dozen miles or so, bringing with them -a pair of wild turkey gobblers shot upon the -flush, they found Carley Farnsworth in the -hall, as the broad passageway through a Virginia -house was called, very busily writing -upon small slips of paper, of which he had prepared -a considerable number before beginning -to write. He was too busy to give more than -a scant greeting to his friends, but in lieu of -greater cordiality he handed one of his written -slips to each, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Read that, and don't interrupt me, please. -I'm expecting a messenger every moment." -</p> - -<p> -On each of the slips was written: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"I am authorized by Colonel Robert Conway -to add his name to the list of those who -urge Mr. Boyd Westover's election. -</p> - -<p> -"(Signed) <span class="smcap">Don Carlos Farnsworth.</span>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -As Westover and Towns looked wonderingly -at each other, after reading the slips, -Carley Farnsworth threw down his pen, exclaiming: -</p> - -<p> -"There! that's fifty. Talk will do the rest." -</p> - -<p> -Then, filling and lighting a long-stemmed -pipe, he said to the others: -</p> - -<p> -"Something has happened. Don't ask me -what it is, for I don't know. Yonder comes -Dick Ventress, and the slips are ready for him. -He has a pot of gum stick'em in his pocket -and he's going to paste those slips to all the -nominating placards within twenty miles between -now and to-morrow morning. They'll -set everybody talking, and talk will do the -rest." -</p> - -<p> -When Dick Ventress had received the papers -and galloped away, Carley vouchsafed some -small and exceedingly unsatisfying explanation. -</p> - -<p> -"Something has happened at The Oaks," he -said. "I don't know what it is, but when I -got there to-day to attend Miss Margaret's -sick people, I found everybody agitated, Miss -Betsy in something like collapse, and Colonel -Conway littering up the house with the torn -fragments of letters he'd been trying to write -but couldn't. I gave him something to quiet -his nerves, and suggested that in his state of -mind perhaps literary endeavors were unadvisable. -Presently he exclaimed: 'I'll arrange -the whole thing. I'll write a letter to -you.' -</p> - -<p> -"With that he set to work and wrote -this." -</p> - -<p> -He offered a sheet of paper on which was -written: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"<span class="smcap">Dr. D. C. Farnsworth.</span> -</p> - -<p> -"<i>My dear Sir</i>:— -</p> - -<p> -"When you asked me to join you and others -in nominating Mr. Boyd Westover for -Senator, I felt bound to decline, for reasons -which I did not, because I could not, offer. -Through very distressing and to me embarrassing -circumstances, I now discover that I -have been acting under a misapprehension. -There are peculiar circumstances which forbid -me to explain myself further. I cannot do so -without injustice to others. But so far as Mr. -Boyd Westover is concerned I earnestly desire -to make such atonement as is still possible. -To that end I hereby authorize you to add my -name to the list of those who urge Mr. Boyd -Westover's election. You are free to make -this public in any and every way that may -seem to you desirable. If it were possible, I -should myself announce it from the platform -at Fighting Creek to-morrow. As it is I authorize -you to do so in my absence. I beg -you to use all the influence you can command -to spare me the necessity of explanation in -this case. I cannot explain. The situation is -the most distressing one possible to me. I -place it and myself in your hands, and I am -always, my dear Dr. Farnsworth, -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"Your sincere friend,<br /> - "<span class="smcap">Robert Conway</span>."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /> -</p> - -<p> -"There you have the whole story, so far as -I know anything about it," said the Doctor. -</p> - -<p> -"I must say," said Jack Towns, "it is a -very manly effort to make reparation under -difficulties." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," answered Westover, "and that is -characteristic of Colonel Conway. I'd gladly -sacrifice the election in exchange for the privilege -of reading that note. He is altogether -a man, and I must meet his manliness as a -man. I'll write to him at once." -</p> - -<p> -"He does not invite that," said Jack Towns. -</p> - -<p> -"On the contrary he forbids it," added -Carley Farnsworth, "and I forbid it in his -name. Your impulse is manly and generous, -Boyd, but you see he has asked me to use all -the influence I can to spare him the necessity -of explaining. A note from you would simply -compel an explanation at his hands. It -was to avoid that that he tore up all the letters -he tried to write to you to-day. It is to avoid -that that he doesn't mount his horse and ride -over here to shake hands with you and tell -you about this thing, whatever it is. It is to -avoid that that he is going to absent himself -from the meeting at Fighting Creek to-morrow, -leaving me to announce his change of -mind in his stead. What do you think, Jack?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, there's only one thing to think. Until -Colonel Conway shall see fit to open direct -communication with Westover of Wanalah, it -will be an extreme and unpardonable impertinence -for Westover of Wanalah to address -any personal communication to him. Circumstances -forbid it. Courtesy forbids it. Consideration, -conscience, common sense, convenience, -convention, custom,—everything that -begins with a 'c' or with any other letter of -the alphabet,—forbids it." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you two are right," answered -Westover, "but to a man of my temperament -it seems an ungracious thing not to recognize -in some personal way the courtesy Colonel -Conway has shown me. My impulse is to -write to him and thank him." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, under the circumstances you -mustn't," said Carley Farnsworth, "and -you're lucky, Boyd, to have sane friends to -advise and control you." -</p> - -<p> -"I reckon I am. But really, Carley, what -do you suppose has happened over at The -Oaks?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am doing no supposing. It may be anything -or nothing. We Virginians—all but -Jack Towns and me—are so emotional, so -sentimental, so chivalric if you prefer the term, -that I long ago ceased my efforts to make a -diagnosis of things of that sort. I only know -that the Colonel is wrought up to a pitch that -requires the remedy of going to bed, and that -everybody else at The Oaks is correspondingly -wrought up. Everybody except that thoroughly -admirable Boston girl, Miss Danvers. -She has a head, and she keeps it poised above -her shoulders. If I hadn't an entirely satisfactory -wife of my own in prospect, though -not yet in possession, I should be strongly -tempted to persuade that girl to stay south -of Mason and Dixon's line. As it is, I really -think some other fellow ought to do that as -a service to Virginia society. Miss Danvers -is a true blue, a thoroughbred. She has character, -manners, breeding, beauty, simplicity, -honesty, sincerity, loyalty, good sense, and all -the other qualities that go to make a woman -admirable. She is the only person who knows -what the ruction over at The Oaks was, and -she's the only one there capable of handling the -situation sanely. She seems to have everybody -there well in hand, and to be controlling -all of them wisely. She has a persuasive gift -that astonished me when she actually got Colonel -Conway to go to bed in the middle of the -afternoon, and induced Margaret to do the -same thing as a precaution against a nervous -breakdown that was clearly threatened. I had -ordered both those goings to bed, with all the -authority of a medical adviser, but to no purpose. -When I spoke to that Boston girl about -it, she answered gently but confidently: 'If -you think that advisable, Doctor, I will see -that it is done,' and by Jove she did the trick -so promptly that before I left I saw them both -in bed, and gave each of them a sleeping potion -that will keep them quiet for many hours -to come." -</p> - -<p> -Under ordinary circumstances, Jack Towns -would have declared his purpose to go over -to The Oaks at once and make love to the -Boston girl. For some reason, on this occasion, -he shrank from all jesting. He had -talked for an hour with Millicent Danvers on -the evening before. He wanted now to talk -with her for another hour, but, contrary to -his custom, he said nothing of his purpose. -He went to dinner with the other two, and -after the dinner was done he slipped away to -the stables, mounted the superb mare that was -now his, and rode away to The Oaks. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap29"></a> -XXIX -<br /> -THE WORK OF A WILD WIND -</h3> - -<p> -This is the story of what the wind-storm -did at The Oaks, to disturb the -usual placidity of life there. -</p> - -<p> -It was Aunt Betsy's custom, as it was that -of many or most other women in Virginia, to -write a multitude of "notes" each day, some -of them filling six or eight sheets of paper, -with criss-crossings to make them seem undecipherably -interesting, and to despatch them by -young negroes on bare-backed horses to their -more or less neighborly destination. A statistical -economist once made a careful reckoning -by which he convinced himself that this -practice cost the planter families of Virginia -about seven and one-half times the amount -they contributed in stamps to the postal revenues -of the nation. -</p> - -<p> -It was the practice of the young women -of the plantations to write all these letters -before breakfast. It was Aunt Betsy's more -leisurely practice to write them whenever she -pleased, and she usually pleased to write them -between ten o'clock in the morning and the -one o'clock hour that was sacred to the luncheon -known in Virginia as "snack." -</p> - -<p> -On the morning of the happening at The -Oaks, the day being sufficiently warm, Aunt -Betsy brought out her desk—an oblong box -which when opened offered a slanting writing -surface, with spaces below its lids for letter -paper, envelopes, and papers of every kind. -Women usually laid these so-called "desks" -upon their laps and managed somehow to write -there, as no man ever could have done. But -it was Aunt Betsy's habit also to retire into the -house now and then upon occasions of real or -imagined necessity, and in anticipation of such -interruptions she always had a slender-legged -stand at hand—a thing "drunkenly artistic," -as Boyd Westover had once said—upon -which to place her desk whenever she was -minded to suspend her writing for a while. -</p> - -<p> -On the morning in question she had a gown -in course of construction by her seamstresses, -who were working in the back porch with a -room opening off it which her modesty used -for purposes of "fitting" and "trying on." -</p> - -<p> -She had therefore frequent occasion to suspend -her writing. -</p> - -<p> -It was during one of her most exigent fits -of trying on that the squall struck the place. -As a good deal of thunder and lightning accompanied -the weather disturbance, and as -Aunt Betsy was possessed of that sort of cowardice -concerning thunder and lightning which -persons so afflicted call "nervousness," she -promptly shut herself up in a dark closet and -remained there until the squall had passed -away. -</p> - -<p class="illustration"> -<a id="img-342"></a> -<img src="images/img-342.jpg" alt="With the first onset of the wind." /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">With the first onset of the wind.</span>—<i>Page 343.</i> -</p> - -<p> -But with the first onset of the wind the -frail table on which she had left her open desk -toppled over; the desk was whirled out into -the grounds and dashed against a tree with a -force that instantly reduced it to splinters, -while its contents—correspondence and curl -papers alike—were scattered, if not to the -four winds, at least to the one wind which was -blowing with demoniacal fury. -</p> - -<p> -Margaret and Millicent who had just returned -from a morning stroll rushed frantically, -picturesquely and, in an unconscious -way, gracefully, to the rescue. The desk -was in fragments and far past praying for; -but by a deal of scurrying the two girls and -some of the house servants managed to collect -the scattered papers and place them upon a -table within, while Aunt Betsy was still ensconced -in her dark closet, waiting for the last -rumble of the thunder to cease. As Millicent -deposited her share of the spoils upon the -table, she looked at Margaret with frightened -eyes and said: -</p> - -<p> -"Please send everybody out of the room -but you and me." -</p> - -<p> -For Millicent had not yet accustomed herself -to talk freely in the presence of servants -as if they were deaf, dumb, and blind, incapable -of understanding what might be said in -their presence and therefore incapable of repeating -it. That habit of the Virginians had -its origin probably in two facts: they never -said anything that they were afraid to stand -by; and the negro was not, in law or in fact, -permitted to testify against a white person. In -the courts his testimony was barred by statute; -in social life it was even more absolutely -barred by convention. No negro ventured to -report anything he had heard white people -say, and if he had done so, no white person -would for one moment have listened to him. -To have done that would have been to invite -and incur absolute and eternal ostracism. -</p> - -<p> -But Millicent, brought up in a totally different -atmosphere, could never accustom herself -to this, and so she asked to have the servants -dismissed from the room before saying -what she had to say about the papers in her -hand. Margaret smiled at the request, but -after the revelation was made she rejoiced -that it had been preferred and acted upon. -</p> - -<p> -When the servants had left the room, Millicent -held out a handful of letters that she had -picked up in the wild scramble of rescue. -</p> - -<p> -"There is something wrong here, Margaret," -she said in her open, honest way. -"Some of these are unopened letters addressed -to you—letters that bear stamps and -post marks, letters that have come through the -mail. These others are sealed letters addressed -in your handwriting to Mr. Boyd -Westover. They are stamped, but they bear -no postmarks. They have never been mailed." -</p> - -<p> -She stood silent for a moment, rigid with -an indignation that she knew not how to express -in words. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile Margaret stood looking at the -letters, dazed, pale to the lips, paralyzed. Then -she looked from the letters to Millicent and -the girl thought she was dying or already dead, -so white was her face at first and so livid a -moment later. -</p> - -<p> -With the womanly instinct of ministry, reinforced -by a passionate impulse of friendship, -Millicent passed around the table, threw her -arm about the stricken girl and gently forced -her to lie upon one of the broad lounges or -settees, or whatever else they should be called, -that in those days invited repose in every -dining room and every hallway of the plantation -houses. -</p> - -<p> -With that ready appreciation of necessity -which is characteristic of womanhood, she -went to the sideboard, poured a thimble glass -of sherry and compelled Margaret to drink -it. Then she tinkled a bell and when the servant -appeared gave quick, concise orders for the -summoning of Margaret's maid and other -strong-armed servitors. -</p> - -<p> -"You must get your mistress to bed at -once," she commanded, "and send some one -to summon Dr. Farnsworth quickly. He's at -the lower quarters." -</p> - -<p> -But Margaret, rising to a sitting position, -promptly negatived all this. Sustained by -wrath, indignation, resentment of insult, and -by outraged pride, she forced upon herself the -calm control that for the moment she had lost, -though only for the moment. With that instinct -of race, that courage, that self-mastery -that had been always a precious possession -of the Conways, she dismissed the superfluous -servants who had hastened to her upon hearing -that she was in trouble, and assumed control -of the situation. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, Millicent, dear, for bringing -those letters to me. They are mine, and I -will dispose of them. Diana, bring me my -desk, please." -</p> - -<p> -When the desk was placed before her she -selected a sheet of paper and an envelope as -calmly as if she had meant to send a note to -Hallie Harvey or any other girl friend, asking -her for the proper count of stitches in a piece -of fancy knitting work. -</p> - -<p> -Then she wrote upon the sheet of paper, -this note: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"<span class="smcap">Aunt Betsy</span>:—Your desk was blown -out into the grounds and wrecked, during the -squall. We have gathered up the fragments -of the desk and rescued all the widely scattered -papers. I am sending you all of them -that in any way belong to you. Those that -belong to me I am keeping. I send you this -note, instead of seeing you in person, because -your maid tells me you have gone to bed. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"<span class="smcap">Margaret.</span>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -She sent the note, sealed, by the hand of -a maid, and she sent with it the entire paper -contents of the wrecked desk, except the unopened -letters of Boyd Westover to herself -and her own unopened letters to him. These -she gathered together into a bundle which she -thrust into her corsage. -</p> - -<p> -Then she turned to a servant and gave the -order: -</p> - -<p> -"Send to the stables for saddle horses for -your Miss Millicent and me. We are going -for a ride." -</p> - -<p> -To Millicent she said under her breath: -"You must go with me, dear. I must control -myself or I shall not be able to carry this thing -through to the end with dignity. I must have -a dash on horseback. You don't mind, do you, -dear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mind? <i>I mind</i>, Margaret? Why, you -know that I would ride to the ends of the earth -with you and for you, even under ordinary -circumstances. Now that you're in trouble, -of course I am ready. I don't know the facts—though -I guess some of them—and I don't -understand all that these things mean, but I -know you have been wronged, outraged, -placed in a false position, humiliated by some -trespass upon your privacy or your personality, -and I am here to stand by you till the -wrong is righted, the outrage undone, and the -humiliation lifted from your spirit. I'll do -anything, everything—oh, Margaret, you -don't know how I love you or how eager I -am to help you!" -</p> - -<p> -Margaret looked at her with loving and -teary eyes. Presently she said: -</p> - -<p> -"I know it all, dear. And yet you Yankees -are supposed to be cold and calculating and -hard. How utterly mistaken people are in -their judgments! But here are the horses. -We'll have a spin, and then—" -</p> - -<p> -She paused as if in doubt and apprehension. -Presently she added: -</p> - -<p> -"And then I must confront my father. He -is the proper person and he must set this thing -right." -</p> - -<p> -After a brisk gallop of half a mile, Margaret -reined her horse down to a walk, and -entered into conversation with her friend. -</p> - -<p> -"I feel, Millicent," she began, "that I ought -to take you completely into my confidence, and -tell you all that this thing means. Your loyalty -and your affection deserve that. But -there are reasons which I cannot explain that -forbid so full a confidence. I am going to -tell you all I can, and I want you to believe -and know that whatever reserves I practise are -practised solely for your sake." -</p> - -<p> -"But how can that be, Margaret? Of -course you are to tell me as much or as little -as you please, but—" -</p> - -<p> -"I see. I can't explain. I can only say -that if I practise reserve at all, it is only because -of my tender affection for you. Can -you believe that blindly, without explanation? -And will you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I believe whatever you tell me, Margaret, -and I do not wish to hear anything that for -any reason you do not wish me to hear." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, dear," said the agitated girl -as she again pressed her horse to his paces; -"God help me if I'm wrong!" -</p> - -<p> -There was so strong a suggestion of tragedy -in the girl's tone that Millicent felt herself -called upon to interfere with Margaret's purpose, -which she instinctively understood and -which seemed to her scarcely less than suicidal. -She said nothing so long as the horses were -moving swiftly. When they resumed the walk, -she turned to her companion and asked: -</p> - -<p> -"Do you believe in my friendship, Margaret, -and do you trust its loyalty so far as to -forgive an impertinence in its behalf?" -</p> - -<p> -"I certainly do, Millicent. I could -never—" -</p> - -<p> -"Listen, then, and don't interrupt. I know -far more about this matter than anybody has -ever told me. My woman's instinct has instructed -me. It may be in error as to details, -but I am right as to the essentials, and in such -a case it is the essentials alone that need be -considered. I'll tell you the story of the situation -as I understand it. You are not a woman -to love lightly, or lightly to forget." -</p> - -<p> -Margaret well nigh fell from her horse as -she heard her own passionately uttered words -thus repeated in merely explanatory fashion, -but in a moment she realized that this was -purely a coincidence. Millicent had chosen the -words for herself; she could not have heard -them as a quotation. -</p> - -<p> -"There may be many fancies to a woman -like you, but there can be only one passionate, -self-giving, all-surrendering love. It is commonly -said that there is no such thing as self-sacrificing -loyalty or friendship between women—that -while we may heroically sacrifice ourselves -for the love of a man we never sacrifice -that love in loyalty to a woman. It is -a slander on our sex. I accepted it as true -until very recently; indeed I saw many things -to confirm it. I know better now." -</p> - -<p> -She paused for a considerable time, but -Margaret did not prompt her to go on. Perhaps -she foresaw what was coming, and at -any rate she saw clearly that there was struggle -and disturbance in Millicent's mind. -</p> - -<p> -After awhile the girl resumed: -</p> - -<p> -"The one love of your life, Margaret, is -for Mr. Boyd Westover. It began long before -you knew it and it will last as long as -you live. Now I am going to make a shameful -confession," she added. Then she broke -into a gallop, but when the horses resumed -a moderate pace she did not make the confession. -Perhaps she shrank from it. Perhaps -she deemed it unnecessary. Perhaps she -thought its making might tend rather to complicate -than to simplify the problems in hand. -However that may be, she made no further -reference to the matter, but took up her parable -where she had laid it down. -</p> - -<p> -"Something, I don't know what—yes, I -do, but I don't know why—has come between -you and Mr. Boyd Westover. I am not blind, -and I think I am not stupid. There were -unopened letters there from him to you, and -other unopened letters from you to him. Without -asking anybody any questions I know that -for some reason somebody has sought to cut -off communication between him and you. I -see clearly that that purpose has been accomplished, -and I see that as a consequence he -has been thinking you fickle and treacherous, -as women so often are, and you have -been thinking him disloyal and dishonorable." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no," interrupted Margaret. "I -have never accused him of disloyalty or dishonor, -even in my wildest moments of perplexity -and distress. I have never for one -moment doubted his honor. It is only that -I have been unable to conjecture why he left -me in silence, when in fact he was writing -great, manly, loving letters to me every day. -Oh, Millicent, it was cruel, and I can never -forgive—" -</p> - -<p> -She did not need mention the name. -</p> - -<p> -"You haven't read Mr. Westover's unopened -letters," suggested Millicent. -</p> - -<p> -"No, I have no right now. They were -written in the past, when he loved and trusted -me. He might not wish me to read them now. -He might not feel in the same way toward me -now that he did then." -</p> - -<p> -"That's stuff and nonsense, I think, Margaret. -I really do. If I were you I should read -the letters carefully. Then I should sit down -and write to Mr. Boyd Westover, enclosing -the letters you wrote to him at that time and -explaining how all the trouble had come -about." -</p> - -<p> -"That would never, never do. It would -be throwing myself like a cast-off garment at -his feet. It would be asking him to renew -relations that he may have been glad to forget." -</p> - -<p> -"You say that, Margaret, but you don't believe -it. Neither do I." -</p> - -<p> -"I think, Millicent, you don't understand -our conventionalities down here. It would be -impossible for any Virginia girl, under such -circumstances, to take the initiative in reopening -relations. That is the prerogative of the -gentleman in the case." -</p> - -<p> -"But when the gentleman doesn't know the -facts, and the woman does, what then?" -</p> - -<p> -"That makes no possible difference." -</p> - -<p> -"You are right on one point, Margaret. I -do not understand your conventions, nor do I -in the least sympathize with them. They are -shams and falsities, as all conventionalities are, -and they are cruel beyond measure. They -decree that where a mistake has been made -and the woman discovers it, she must let wreck -and ruin overwhelm two lives—her own and -that of the man she loves—rather than send -to him a simple and easy explanation of the -mistake that has made the trouble. No, I do -not understand such conventions. What are -you going to do?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll place the whole thing in my father's -hands, and he shall do what he will with it." -</p> - -<p> -"And as to the one who has wrought all -this mischief?" -</p> - -<p> -"My relations with my Aunt Betsy will be -changed. Come! We must hurry back to -the house. I want my father to know what -has happened." -</p> - -<p> -They trotted on for a space, when suddenly -Millicent reined in her horse and Margaret -stopped in company, for Millicent had come to -a complete halt in the roadway. For a moment -the two confronted each other without -a word, for Millicent, sitting on her horse with -compressed lips and set jaw, did not at first -explain herself. After a while she said: -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot sit idly by and see two glorious -young lives wrecked when a next to nothing -would save both. I am a Yankee, of Boston, -but so was Paul Revere. Let me have those -letters. Ask me no questions, but let me ride -as Paul Revere did!" -</p> - -<p> -For a moment Margaret hesitated. The -temptation was very great, but she put it -aside. -</p> - -<p> -"That would never do, Millicent," she said. -"I understand your loving loyalty and I am -grateful for it, but that would never do. To -Mr. Westover you would be my emissary, no -matter what you might say. It would be the -same as if I went to him myself." -</p> - -<p> -"Is your decision final, or may I argue the -matter?" Millicent asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It is final," Margaret answered, and not -another word was spoken during the remainder -of the homeward journey. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap30"></a> -XXX -<br /> -WHAT HAD HAPPENED AT THE OAKS -</h3> - -<p> -That little jaunt on horseback that -Margaret, with her friend, took by way -of steadying her nerves, was -perhaps a mistake. If she had gone to her -father at once, while "Aunt Betsy" was -making herself comfortable in bed, the impulsive -old gentleman would have been off on -a journey to Wanalah within five minutes, and -his intent to explain and make reparation -would have accomplished its purpose instantly. -</p> - -<p> -But Margaret went riding instead, and no -sooner did "Aunt Betsy" learn of the fact -than she made a quick recovery from her illness, -and almost before the two young women -were out of sight of the house, "Aunt Betsy," -tearful and in every other way appealing, was -closeted with Colonel Conway. She thus -gained the distinct advantage of being first on -the ground. Her tears and her agitation appealed -strongly to the protective instinct of -the chivalric old soldier. She told him in her -own way what had happened, diverting his -attention from her own misconduct by lamentations -and copious weepings and protestations -that in all she had done she had sought only -to protect the honor and dignity of the family -and to prevent Margaret—"an unformed -girl"—from compromising herself in her ignorance -of the world. -</p> - -<p> -It would be too much to say that she convinced -her brother of the righteousness of her -conduct. Tampering with letters—even -without reading them—was to him a point -of special sensitiveness, and there were other -matters involved which he could in no wise -reconcile with his conceptions of honorable -conduct. But he recognized the weakness of -women as a palliation of misconduct, and his -sister's tearful appeals to him for the protection -of her dignity affected him in the tenderest -part of his nature. -</p> - -<p> -He was profoundly displeased with her, but -she was his sister, nevertheless, and he was -her natural protector. It was his duty and his -desire to spare her, so far as might be possible, -but he felt also the obligation to censure and -correct her. -</p> - -<p> -"You have done a gravely improper thing, -Betsy," he said, with sternness and tenderness -struggling for mastery in his tone. "Indeed -what you have done is unpardonable, inexcusable,—except -that as a woman you did not -know the enormity of your act." -</p> - -<p> -"That is the main point, Robert," she interrupted, -"and I beg you to bear it in mind. -All I did was done with good intentions. I -am naturally solicitous for the honor of our -family, and I—" -</p> - -<p> -"And you did a dishonorable thing in that -behalf," he said with severity in his tone. -"In your desire to protect the family -name you did a thing that would forever -subject it to shame, if it should become -known." -</p> - -<p> -"That is it, Robert. It mustn't become -known. I depend upon you, as the head of -the family, to prevent that. Blame me as -severely as you will, but don't expose me, don't -subject me to criticism and scorn! Oh, Robert, -I beg you to protect me!" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll protect you of course," he replied, -"but you have made it difficult and exceedingly -embarrassing for me to do so. I have -my own conscience to reckon with. You have -made me do things, in ignorance of the facts—I -may as well be frank and say you have -deliberately deceived me into the doing of -wrongs for which I know not how to atone -or even apologize. If you were not my sister, -if you were not under my protection, if I -could be indifferent to your feelings—my -course would be simple and easy. A frank, -manly statement of the facts would exonerate -me. As it is—" -</p> - -<p> -"As it is, Robert, you cannot subject your -sister to humiliation. You <i>must</i> protect me -from shame. You must take pains that what -has happened shall never be known outside -this house!" -</p> - -<p> -It was at this stage of the conversation that -Margaret entered. "Aunt Betsy," confident -that she had secured herself, said: -</p> - -<p> -"I will leave you to talk with your father, -Margaret, if you desire." -</p> - -<p> -"No," the young woman answered; "I -prefer that you should remain. I, at least, -have nothing to conceal, and I do not seek, as -you do, to get my father's ear in private. Besides, -I have some things to say to you, and I -prefer to say them in my father's presence. I -am mistress of The Oaks. Hitherto, out of a -respect which you have not justified, I have -permitted you to exercise certain functions -that belong to me. I shall do so no longer. -I have given directions that hereafter I will -make up the outgoing mail bag and open the -incoming one." -</p> - -<p> -"But, my dear child—" -</p> - -<p> -"I am not a child, Aunt Betsy. You have -made some grievous mistakes in forgetfulness -of that fact. It shall not be forgotten again -while I remain mistress of this plantation. -What was it you were going to say, Aunt -Betsy? I beg pardon for interrupting, but it -seemed necessary." -</p> - -<p> -"I was going to ask what the servants will -think." -</p> - -<p> -"I do not know what they will think, Aunt -Betsy." -</p> - -<p> -"On that point I must appeal to your father," -"Aunt Betsy" replied. -</p> - -<p> -"On that point it is <i>very dangerous for you -to appeal</i>," answered the younger woman, still -preserving an extraordinary calm that was at -once astonishing and alarming to her aunt, -but speaking with a degree of emphasis that -suggested something behind the words. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean? Explain yourself," -said "Aunt Betsy," in that authoritative tone -which she had all her life employed in addressing -her niece. -</p> - -<p> -"I will explain if you wish," Margaret answered; -"but I'd rather spare you the explanation." -</p> - -<p> -"I insist upon knowing what you mean," -the elder woman unwisely replied. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, then; you shall hear. In addition -to the wrong you have done me, wrecking -my life and placing me in a grievously false -position; in addition to the wrong you have -done to another, you have been guilty of the -crime of robbing the United States mails, -Aunt Betsy, and as the minimum penalty of -that crime is a long term in prison, I do not -think it wise of you to suggest appeals in this -case. It will be better, I think, to accept my -decision as final." -</p> - -<p class="illustration"> -<a id="img-366"></a> -<img src="images/img-366.jpg" alt="It will be better, I think, to accept my decision as final." /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">It will be better, I think, to accept my decision as final.</span>—<i>Page 365.</i> -</p> - -<p> -The old lady rose in wrath, alarm, indignation -and all the other emotions of an exciting -sort, and demanded to know what her -niece meant by such an accusation of infamy. -At the same time Colonel Conway exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, daughter, daughter, you do not mean -what you say. Take it back! You are excited. -You are beside yourself!" -</p> - -<p> -"I am not in the least excited," the young -woman answered. "I did not wish or intend -to mention that aspect of the matter, but Aunt -Betsy insisted upon it. I have no desire to -emphasize it or to insist upon it, if only my -authority as mistress at The Oaks is properly -recognized. As your daughter, Father, I am -entitled to that dignity which you yourself -have been fond of insisting upon; and as your -daughter I intend to exercise the authority and -maintain the dignity of that position so long -as you permit me to hold it. When you cease -to permit that, I shall leave The Oaks and go -to my own plantation of Tye, which my -mother left me. You must remember that I -am a grown woman of twenty-one, and that -I am not a dependent upon anybody." -</p> - -<p> -"Now, daughter," interrupted Colonel Conway -with affection, "you are talking nonsense. -You know that you are mistress of The Oaks, -and—" -</p> - -<p> -"That is quite all I am insisting upon. As -mistress of The Oaks I do not intend to have -my authority questioned or my affairs interfered -with by anybody. I'm sorry I have this -occasion to assert myself, but the circumstances -are not of my making." -</p> - -<p> -"But what do you mean, you—you—you -ill-regulated girl,—in charging me with a -crime?" almost shrieked the elder woman as -she confronted her niece in an attitude that -suggested a desire to shake her. "What do -you mean? What do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"You'd better let that phase of the affair -drop, Aunt Betsy," answered the girl with a -calm that additionally exasperated her aunt. -</p> - -<p> -"No, I will not let it drop. You have uttered -an accusation that I cannot and will not -let pass. You must say what you meant by it." -</p> - -<p> -"I will say it if you insist," answered Margaret, -still preserving her exasperating calm. -</p> - -<p> -"I do insist. I will not rest under such an -accusation. Go on! Tell me what you meant." -</p> - -<p> -"I will," said Margaret. "You remember -that five years ago an attempt was made to -open our mail bag in some political interest. -Father appealed to the Government for its -protection, and from that day to this it has -gone back and forth under a United States -mail lock. In tampering with its contents—in -abstracting from it letters addressed to me, -you—I don't like to put the matter into plain -words. Let me say instead that you violated -the law which renders the United States mail -sacred. I'm sorry I have had to call your -attention to such a matter, but you forced the -necessity upon me." -</p> - -<p> -By this time it was necessary to summon -maids and get "Aunt Betsy" back to bed -again,—genuinely ill this time. -</p> - -<p> -It was not until she was made as comfortable -as circumstances permitted, that Colonel -Conway and his daughter returned to the -library and resumed their conversation. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, daughter," said the old soldier, "I -am ready to do anything to right this wrong—anything, -of course, that will not compromise -your aunt." -</p> - -<p> -"Father," responded the girl with a world -of tenderness in her voice, "you ought not to -have anything to do in the matter. It is Aunt -Betsy who has wrought all the mischief. She -has deceived you; she has deceived me; she -has deceived Mr. Westover. It should be her -duty, not yours, to undo the wrong she has -done." -</p> - -<p> -"But, my dear daughter, how can she? -She is a woman." -</p> - -<p> -"I know that, Father, and I know our Virginian -view of such things. But it is all -wrong. You men of Virginia have granted -to us women a license that ought not to be. -If one of us utters a slander, you hold yourselves -responsible for it even unto death. If -one of us lies—it isn't a ladylike term, I -know, but it is what I mean—if one of us -lies you hold yourselves bound to maintain the -lie and answer for it, even at the pistol's point. -You Virginia gentlemen insist upon only one -point of honor for women. So long as we -observe that, we may lie and cheat and slander -at will and you sustain us in it. It is all wrong. -If a woman does mischief, she should herself -atone for it. In this case it is Aunt Betsy who -has wrought the wrong and it is Aunt Betsy -who should undo it." -</p> - -<p> -"But how can she, dear?" -</p> - -<p> -"By going to Mr. Westover, or writing to -him, and saying frankly: 'I robbed the post -bag of your letters to Margaret and her letters -to you.' That is what a brave man would do. -Why should not a brave woman do the same?" -</p> - -<p> -"But, daughter, your aunt is a lady and -excessively sensitive." -</p> - -<p> -"She forgot to be a lady when she did this -infamous thing, and her sensitiveness is mainly -a pretence assumed to play upon your chivalry -and to deceive you and others. If she were -honest in mind, a real, genuine, conscientious -sensitiveness would prompt her to make precisely -the reparation I have suggested. As -she is utterly dishonest and dishonorable instead, -I quite understand that no force, moral -or physical, could ever compel her to an act -of reparation like that." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear, you are very hard upon your -poor old aunt." -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all, Father. Truth is as much an -obligation of women as of men. So is courage -of the moral sort. But it is idle to expect that -after generations in which you gentlemen of -Virginia have excused us from all obligations -except that of chastity. You have assumed -our protection, and you have met that obligation -bravely; but—well, I have thought much -on that subject, and what I have thought is of -no consequence. What are you going to do -by way of righting the wrong Aunt Betsy has -done, as you excuse her from the obligation of -herself righting it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll do anything you suggest—anything -that will not compromise your aunt. You see -I must protect her." -</p> - -<p> -"I understand. The one who has wrought -the wrong must be spared the consequences. -The victims of it must bear them. I have nothing -whatever to suggest, Father." -</p> - -<p> -And with that she advanced, kissed him -tenderly, said: -</p> - -<p> -"Poor, dear old Dad!" and quietly left the -room. -</p> - -<p> -Then it was that Colonel Conway set himself -to satisfy his daughter's conscience and his -own by writing a letter to Boyd Westover. -Then it was that, after repeated failures, he -compromised with his conscience by writing -to Dr. Carley Farnsworth instead. -</p> - -<p> -Then it was that under Dr. Carley Farnsworth's -instructions Millicent Danvers sent -Colonel Conway and Margaret to bed. -</p> - -<p> -"Aunt Betsy" was already sleeping the -sleep of one who feels that she has adroitly -escaped uncomfortable consequences. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap31"></a> -XXXI -<br /> -A SUNSET INTERVIEW -</h3> - -<p> -The days were growing short, and so -when Jack Towns approached The -Oaks that afternoon, the sun was setting -and Millicent was watching it from a little -hilltop just beyond the orchard and perhaps -half a mile from the house. -</p> - -<p> -Jack came upon her there and was fascinated -with the picture she presented. With her head -bare and her hair in some disorder as a result -of facing the west wind too fearlessly, she -wore upon her shoulders a voluminous mass -of fleecy knitted work known in those days as -a "nubia," or, by those who preferred good -English to very bad dog-Latin, a "cloud." -As he approached from the east he saw her -figure silhouetted against the glowing western -sky, and the grace of it fascinated him. It was -like a great picture—suggesting one of Turner's -interpretations of Venice, with an absorbing -human interest added to the glow and -glory of it. -</p> - -<p> -For to Jack Towns the girl who turned to -greet him as he rode up was a very absorbing -human interest indeed. The hour he had -passed in converse with her on the day before, -had left him with a glamor upon him which -even his jaunty indifference to permanent impressions -could not dismiss. He had been -moved to make this special visit to The Oaks -by an irresistible desire to see more of a young -woman whose superiority of mind and character -was strongly impressed upon him, and -whose very peculiarities—mainly due to differences -of environment and education—were -strangely appealing to his imagination. -</p> - -<p> -Upon approaching her there upon the little, -sun illumined hilltop, he dismounted, and, with -bridle rein over his arm, joined her in admiration -of the glowing sunset. -</p> - -<p class="illustration"> -<a id="img-374"></a> -<img src="images/img-374.jpg" alt="He dismounted, and, with his bridle rein over his arm, joined her." /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">He dismounted, and, with his bridle <br /> -rein over his arm, joined her.</span>—<i>Page 373.</i> -</p> - -<p> -After the first greetings were over she said: -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know, Mr. Towns, I think that is -where your chivalry comes from?" And as -she said it, she waved her hand toward the -horizon with its gold and purple, intermingled -with pinks and blues and exquisite greens that -the dyer's art has never matched. -</p> - -<p> -"I mean," she added without waiting to be -asked for an explanation, "that you Virginians -are inspired with gentleness and chivalry -by the quality of the climate in which you live, -and that your sunsets give color to your imaginings -of courage, optimism, and high endeavor." -</p> - -<p> -"I doff my hat in acknowledgement of the -double compliment," he said, "to our climate -and to our manhood. But surely fine sunsets -are not our exclusive possession. You must -have such at the North?" -</p> - -<p> -"Sometimes—not often. They are so rare -indeed that we make note of them and recall -them afterwards as pleasant memories." -</p> - -<p> -"But isn't that because you live in a large -city where the vapors of industry cloud the -sky and shut out nature's displays?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do not live in a large city, Mr. Towns, -except for the two or three worst months of -the year, and not always even then. I live on -the 'blue hills of Milton.' My father has a -country place there, and since he has grown -old enough to relax a little in his business enterprises, -we live there almost all the year -round. So you see I know our climate quite -irrespective of the factory chimneys and their -fumes. The sunset is dying out. I don't like -to see the death of beauty or grandeur or glory -of any kind. Let's turn our faces toward the -house." -</p> - -<p> -As they turned Jack Towns in his own mind -formulated his impressions in this wise: -</p> - -<p> -"Here is a young woman who can think for -herself and without any regard whatever for -the conventions of thought; she is inspired -with an appreciation of truth and beauty, which -is only another way of saying that she is a poet -in her soul—thank God she is not a poet in -the magazines, for that would be dreadful. -She has common sense, too, in an uncommon -abundance. Jack Towns, you are falling -in love in a way you never dreamed of before, -and the fact doesn't alarm you in the -least." -</p> - -<p> -As his meditations kept him silent for a -longer time than is usual when youth and -beauty walk together in the gloaming, Millicent -was the first to speak. -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you could know our 'blue hills of -Milton.' They have some attractions of their -own." -</p> - -<p> -"They certainly have," he answered. "I -know them—at least in a small way." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, how did that come about?" she -asked in surprise. "I understood you to say -you were never in Boston but once." -</p> - -<p> -"'And that same is thrue for you,' as my -Irish office attendant would say. I was never -in Boston until a few weeks ago, when I went -thither to arrange some financial affairs for -a client of mine"—he did not mention Westover's -name. "I had some negotiations with -a banking firm there, and the head of the establishment -was exceedingly courteous to me. He -took me to his country place to spend the Sunday. -By a curious coincidence, his surname is -the same as yours—Danvers. He's the head -of the banking house of Danvers, Appleton and -Wentworth. I wonder if by any chance he's -a relative of yours. At any rate he deserves -to be. For a more courtly gentleman I have -never met. He's the sort of educated, refined, -polished, considerate person that only three -States in this Union produce, so far as I have -been able to observe." -</p> - -<p> -"Which are the three States, please,—that -is to say, if you are free to designate -them?" -</p> - -<p> -"Massachusetts, Virginia, and South Carolina. -Mind, I don't say that such gentlemen -are not found in other States. It is only that -those of them whom I have personally met have -happened to be sons of one or other of the -three States mentioned." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose there is a reason for that," answered -Millicent. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it?" he inquired in answer. -</p> - -<p> -"They are the three oldest commonwealths," -she answered, "and the three most conservative. -You have a saying here in Virginia—a -true saying, I think—that 'it takes three -generations to make a gentleman.' The three -States you have named have lived their own -lives for a good many more than three generations, -and so they have had time to make gentlemen. -Still—" -</p> - -<p> -She did not continue her sentence, till Towns -urged her to do so. Then she said: -</p> - -<p> -"I was going to say that about the most -perfect gentleman I ever met was Jake Greenfield, -a Vermonter, without education beyond -what he called the 'rujimenteries,' whom I met -in the Rocky Mountains." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me about him," implored Jack, saying -nothing of his own acquaintance with Jake, -who had been his companion and shrewd adviser -during his stay in the Rocky Mountains -in Boyd Westover's interest. "Tell me about -him." -</p> - -<p> -"I will," she answered. "I am always -pleased to celebrate his virtues. Jake is ignorant, -unfamiliar with the ways of society, and -wholly unformed as to his manners, but he is -instinctively a gentleman. He habitually eats -with his knife—a dirk-like thing that he carries -in his belt. He has no hesitation about -sitting at table and picking his teeth with a -fork. It never occurs to him to apologize for -lighting his pipe at table or quitting the company -before the others have done. None of -the conventions of civilized life have dawned -upon his intelligence as matters worthy of attention. -When I knew him, if a single pie sat -before him he would carefully count noses and -divide it equally; but if the table were well -dotted with pies he would seize upon the one -nearest him and devour it from his hand without -enlisting the services of knife or fork in -aid of the process. -</p> - -<p> -"I met him in the Rocky Mountains where -my father had some mining interests, and I -was a good deal distressed and disgusted by -his lack of manners until I came to know the -real man who lived under so rough an exterior." -</p> - -<p> -"How did that come about? Tell me, -please," said Jack Towns as he handed his -companion up the two or three steps that led -to the porch. -</p> - -<p> -"It was a rather thrilling experience," she -answered, "at least in its beginning. I was -only a girl then of eighteen or nineteen. I had -gone to the Rockies with my father for the -sake of 'roughing it,' as they say out there, -and enjoying the out-of-door life. I was in -the habit of riding alone, anywhere I pleased, -for the region was a wilderness and nobody -lived in it except a few surface miners. One -day I rode away till I came to a little stream, -a few inches deep, which was crossed by a ford. -The road to and from the stream had been cut -by nature or by man, through bluff banks, -twenty feet high. I crossed the stream, -scarcely wetting the fetlocks of my horse. I -rode up through the cut on the other side to -the high ground above, and thence on through -a delightfully wild region, until presently it -began to rain in that sudden and torrential -way that belongs to the Rocky Mountains. I -turned my horse about and trotted him somewhat -hurriedly toward the ford I had crossed. -When I got there I found the trickling little -brook swollen to a mountain torrent, but I -did not recognize the change as a matter of -consequence. I saw that the water had risen, -but to me that meant only that where I had had -to make my horse wade fetlock deep before, I -must make him wade knee deep now. I pushed -him into the stream and almost instantly he was -swept from his footing. The depth required -swimming, and the onrush of the waters was -so great that swimming across the stream was -impossible. The horse made a gallant struggle -to reach the other side within the roadway -space, but he was swept away down stream. I -was afloat on his back, imprisoned as it were -between two perpendicular bluffs that offered -no point of possible landing or rescue. -</p> - -<p> -"Just as I fully realized my situation Jake -Greenfield, mounted upon a strong horse, appeared -on the bank above. -</p> - -<p> -"'Hold on for your life!' he cried to me, -'an' I'll be with you in half a minute.' With -that he turned his horse's head and rode away -for thirty or forty paces. Then, suddenly turning -about, he rode straight toward the bluff, -digging spurs into his horse's flanks at every -step, and lashing his rumps with a black snake -whip by way of making sure that he should -not refuse the leap. A moment later there was -a splash and a struggle in the water. Jake -Greenfield's horse had leaped into the stream -from the bluff twenty feet or more above, with -Jake Greenfield on his back, and the two had -sunk beneath the flood within a few feet of me -as I clung to my horse. -</p> - -<p> -"After a few moments both came to the surface, -and the snortings of the horse indicated -that his breathing capacity was impaired. By -way of sparing him Jake slipped off the saddle -and took hold of a stirrup strap as a towing -line. But his poor horse's powers were exhausted -and he could sustain himself no longer. -He gave up the struggle and sank beneath the -flood, a martyr to the duty he owed to his -master—man. Pardon me, I'm making a -long story of this, but the details interest me -so." -</p> - -<p> -"They interest me, too," quickly responded -her companion. "You cannot narrate them in -too minute detail to please me. I could listen -all night to the story. Go on, please." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Jake continued to swim until presently -he caught my horse's tail and used it as -a means of keeping up with me. Then he -said: -</p> - -<p> -"'Turn him to the right! Keep close in -shore. There's a little break in the bluffs just -ahead, and may be we can make it! More to -the right! Closer in shore! There! There's -the break. Make him catch bottom there if -you can,' You see, Mr. Towns, every word -spoken at that time was burned into my memory, -and I recall every detail as vividly as if -the thing had happened yesterday, or even to-day. -</p> - -<p> -"I succeeded in 'beaching' my horse at that -little break in the bank. It was literally like -beaching him, for no sooner had he taken -three or four steps through shoaling water -toward the land, than he lay down, utterly -exhausted." -</p> - -<p> -Here the girl stopped in her narrative, as if -it had been done. Jack Towns had no mind -thus to lose the climax. -</p> - -<p> -"You haven't told me yet in what way Jake -proved himself a gentleman." -</p> - -<p> -"That is true," she answered, "and it was -that that I set out to tell you. Somehow heroism -always appeals to me, and in telling you -of Jake's heroism I forgot the other end of -the story. I was soaked through, of course, -and chilled to the bone. So Jake took me by -the arm—he wanted to take me on his back -but I wouldn't let him—and hurried me to -one of his cabins. You see, as caretaker of -the mining lands, he had several cabins, scattered -about over them. He told me there was -a motherly old squaw there who would look -after me, but when we got there the squaw, -after the manner of her race, had wandered -away somewhere and was not likely to return. -Jake built a big fire in the cabin chimney, and -then went outside, telling me to 'shuck off -them soakin' clothes' and wrap myself up in -the quilts that covered the sole orderly bed in -the place. As I did so I bethought me of the -conventionalities, and when Jake came back to -cook my supper and dry my clothes, I protested -that I could not consent to stay there alone, and -without even a squaw to sustain my dignity. -I simply must go to my father, I said, and when -he objected that the mountain torrent lay between -and was by this time twenty-fold fiercer -in its fury than when I had dared it before, I -declared that it made no difference; that at all -hazards I must make my way to my father's -quarters that night. By way of making the -matter impersonal and in that way sparing his -feelings, I dwelt upon the anxiety my father -must feel for me. I think Jake understood my -real objection to the situation. Indeed I know -he did, for by way of reply he said: -</p> - -<p> -"'Ef you only could rest quiet here an' not -worrit overmuch, I've been a-plannin' to go up -the mountain to where the stream don't 'mount -to nothin', an' cross it an' go down an' tell Mr. -Danvers as how you is safe an' sound nevertheless -of your bein' tired out an' chilly an' all -that. Ef you kin spare me, I'd like to do that.' -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all realizing the fact that that torrent -had its beginning twenty miles away and -in mountains so precipitous that no man could -scale them, I gave eager consent to his proposal, -and after preparing such supper as he -could for me, the devoted fellow—no, the -chivalric gentleman, I mean—set forth in the -torrential rain. I learned afterwards that he -toiled up the stream for six miles, plunged into -it and the darkness, breasted his way across it -as it swept him down its resistless current, and -with difficulty effected a landing on the opposite -side four miles below his starting point. -Thence he trudged through the darkness and -the rain to my father's quarters, where rescue -parties were forming to hunt for me. That's -the story. Don't you agree with me that Jake's -a gentleman in the true sense of the word?" -</p> - -<p> -"All that is what I should have expected of -Jake," answered the young man. "You see -I've just returned from that region, and during -my stay there I was closely associated with -him." -</p> - -<p> -The girl uttered a little exclamation of astonishment; -then, with that perfect self-possession -which Jack Towns had found to be the -most fascinating thing about her, she added: -</p> - -<p> -"Confidence deserves confidence in return, -and before you go," for Jack had risen and -the two were advancing toward his restless, -pawing horse, "it seems only fair to tell you -that what you have said of the Boston banker -who entertained you over Sunday has been -very gratifying to me, for the reason that the -gentleman concerned is my father, and the -house you found so hospitable is my home. I -sincerely hope you'll have other occasions to -visit us there." -</p> - -<p> -Jack's instant thought was: -</p> - -<p> -"I'll make the occasions, and I'll do it -pretty soon too," but he confined his speech to -the courtesies of the moment, and a minute -later he was riding at half speed toward Wanalah, -wondering if his absence had kept supper -waiting, and not caring in the least whether it -had done so or not. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap32"></a> -XXXII -<br /> -WHAT HAPPENED AT FIGHTING CREEK -</h3> - -<p> -In Virginia in the late fifties there was no -question of principle or policy or anything -else at issue between the Whig and Democratic -parties. Even in national politics there -was none. The Whigs were supposed to -represent tariff protection and internal improvements. -The Democrats stood for free -trade and sailors' rights, but neither the one nor -the other of these cries represented anything -vital, any policy that was pending. -</p> - -<p> -In Virginia the instinct of self-preservation, -awakened by hostility at the North to the institution -of slavery, had stimulated both parties -to an intemperate, uncompromising, relentless -advocacy of slavery as a system right -in itself,—a thing that nobody really believed,—and -whenever Whig and Democrat met in -debate, the only question between them was -which could go to the greatest extreme in that -direction. There were the old antagonisms -between the two parties. They were still remembered -with bitterness, and men grew excited -and even violent in their discussion; but -nobody on either side could have said what they -meant, for the sufficient reason that they meant -just nothing at all. There was a new, Free -Soil party rapidly gaining strength at the -North, and by both Whigs and Democrats in -Virginia that party was regarded as the common -enemy, to be fought to the death. But -while waiting for that, the Whigs and Democrats -fought each other for precedence and -place. -</p> - -<p> -Political speaking under such conditions was -apt to be uninteresting to others than the speakers, -unless it involved something of accidental -and unusual moment. If any speaker under -the excitement of perfervid oratory happened -to use terms which his adversary could construe -to be offensive to himself, there was instantly -awakened the interest that pertains to -a quarrel which may presently ripen into a duel -or a street fight. -</p> - -<p> -Nothing of that kind occurred at Fighting -Creek on the day after Jack Towns's visit to -Millicent, but some other things occurred that -gave peculiar interest to the occasion. Carley -Farnsworth read from the platform the note in -which Colonel Conway pledged himself to the -support of Westover's nomination. That in -itself was a staggering blow to Webb's candidacy. -As Foggy, whose phrases were apt to -be picturesque, put the matter: -</p> - -<p> -"It knocks the underpinnin' out of our campaign, -and it looks to me, Webb, as if it might -knock the stuffin' out'n you." -</p> - -<p> -But staggering as the announcement was, -there was far worse to come. -</p> - -<p> -When Sam Butler, the Democratic candidate -for Senator, had emptied his mind and mouth -of all the florid rhetorical phrases he had sat -up of nights to construct, he brought a matter -of practical political importance to the front. -</p> - -<p> -"I have endeavored to show you, my fellow -citizens, that Democratic principles ought to -triumph in this election; but neither you nor -I can fail to see that there is no chance of that -in this senatorial district. After consultation -with my friends and political advisers, I have -decided that the issue lies solely between the -regular and the independent Whig candidates; -and as between these two I think no Democrat -can hesitate to choose Mr. Boyd Westover as -the fittest man to represent us. I therefore resign -my own candidacy in Mr. Westover's -behalf, and I urge all my friends, all loyal -Democrats in the district, to vote for him. I -have been moved to this decision by impulses -of patriotism and by a sense of duty to the district -and to my fellow citizens." -</p> - -<p> -This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, -and for a full minute the crowd stood paralyzed -with astonishment. Then Butler's most active -supporter—by prearrangement of course—leaped -to the platform and cried out: -</p> - -<p> -"Friends, Democrats, patriots! It occurs to -me that our party in this county has named no -candidate for the lower house of the Legislature. -In order that the Democratic vote shall -not be completely unrecorded, I move that we -now name Samuel Butler, Esq., for that honorable -place. His candidacy for that will in no -way interfere with his self-sacrificing decision -to take himself out of the senatorial campaign. -I ask all Democrats here present to gather in -the prize barn across the road, to consider this -suggestion." -</p> - -<p> -A "prize barn" was one in which there -were appliances for pressing leaf tobacco into -hogsheads. -</p> - -<p> -Ten minutes later it was announced that the -late Democratic candidate for Senator had -been unanimously nominated for the House of -Delegates. -</p> - -<p> -"Now I know," said Carley Farnsworth to -himself, "what Edgar Coffey's message from -Judy to Butler meant. It's the shrewdest bit -of play I ever heard of. By securing his withdrawal -from the senatorial contest, the Queen -of the Mountains has enormously swelled -Boyd's planter vote. And by way of accomplishing -that she has promised the mountain -vote to Butler for the lower office, and it will -elect him beyond a doubt. On the whole, I -reckon I won't explain the matter to Westover. -He's quixotic, and he knows nothing of -politics. But, by Jove, it was a master stroke -on Judy's part." -</p> - -<p> -That night when Edgar Coffey made his -report to Judy, telling her of the adroit and -graceful way in which the program had been -carried out by Butler, her comment was: -</p> - -<p> -"Some folks has more sense'n you'd think." -</p> - -<p> -When he had told her of the confidence with -which Webb was reckoning upon the mountain -vote to offset the loss, she added: -</p> - -<p> -"An' some folks ain't got the sense the law -allows 'em." -</p> - -<p> -But if Webb had less political sense "than -the law allowed him," there were certain of his -followers who were better endowed. Foggy, -in particular, realized the situation, and, by -way of meeting it, summoned Webb and a -dozen or so of his immediate supporters to a -conference in the hostelry of a neighboring -county seat. -</p> - -<p> -There Foggy laid down the law to the optimistic -candidate. -</p> - -<p> -"These here two happenings," he said, -"mean trouble. All the swell Whig planters -who were holding back because of Colonel Conway's -stand will now vote for Westover, and -use their influence to make their overseers and -others do the same. Every Democrat in the -district will vote for him as a matter of course. -They want to beat the regular Whig nominee, -and now that they haven't a candidate of their -own, they'll vote for Westover. Now what -have we got to meet all this with?" -</p> - -<p> -Webb suggested the mountain vote, and -Foggy instantly replied: -</p> - -<p> -"So far as I can see, we ain't got no mortgage -on that, and if we are to carry it we've -got to go after it." -</p> - -<p> -So they went on discussing the situation, -ending by ordering a vigorous campaign in the -mountains with Webb for leader and Judy -Peters as the Dominant Power to be approached -with negotiations. -</p> - -<p> -When Jack Towns heard of this program, -he went to Carley Farnsworth in some alarm, -to suggest some counter move. -</p> - -<p> -"I am conducting this campaign," answered -the little doctor, "and I am in confidential relations -with Judy. I'll tell you, Jack, but you -must keep the secret, that it was Judy herself -who conceived and planned and organized -Boyd's candidacy. She made one of the best -diagnoses I ever heard of in his case, and her -therapeutics is matchless. Let her alone. She -has made up her mind to elect Westover with -such a majority as shall be convincing even to -him, and she will do it you may be sure. If -she wants to see any of us she'll have Edgar -Coffey whisper a hint of her desire into our -ears. Until she does that we mustn't interfere. -She might resent it as a reflection on her skill -in political management. Now let me drop a -hint into your ear. I said just now that I was -managing this campaign. That was a vainglorious -boast. I didn't persuade Butler to retire -in Westover's favor, but somebody arranged -that. Have you any idea who it was? -And if at the end of the campaign Butler -should find himself elected to the lower house -of the Legislature by virtue of the entire mountain -vote added to the regular Democratic poll -down here, do you imagine for an instant that -the result would take him by surprise? Now -keep mum about all these things. I am only -making suggestions by way of preventing you -from making mistakes. Don't say a word to -Boyd about it." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap33"></a> -XXXIII -<br /> -CONSPIRACIES -</h3> - -<p> -Jack Towns was particularly pleased -with the reassurance that Farnsworth -gave him respecting the campaign. It set -him free. In his loyalty to Boyd Westover he -would have ridden all night and all day in aid -of his friend's election; but he greatly preferred -to go to Dr. Carver's and dance all -night with Millicent. -</p> - -<p> -In fact he did very nearly that. He put his -name down on her card for every set that -wasn't taken in advance, and he danced all of -them but three or four which she elected to -"sit out." If she had been accompanied by a -chaperon, she would have had to restrict Mr. -Towns's allowance of sets, but chaperons were -not deemed necessary for well-bred young -women in Virginia. Such young women were -supposed to know how to behave properly, and -as for protection, was not the entire adult male -population ready and eager to render it upon -occasion? -</p> - -<p> -Moreover, Jack Towns did not in fact secure -an undue proportion of Millicent's sets, for the -reason that all the young men in the company, -who managed to get possession of her card in -time, put their names on it, for one dance each. -She rigidly restricted them to one. Perhaps -she considered Jack. But she put no restriction -on Jack Towns in the matter, and Jack -was so ill-mannered in his infatuation that he -asked no other young woman for her card, except -in the case of Charlotte Deane. Charlotte -was no longer as young as she could have -wished, and she was distinctly not beautiful or -brilliant. So Jack, observing that there were -no throngs of young men about her, asked for -her card and put his name down for two -dances. -</p> - -<p> -For the rest, he devoted his attention to Millicent -Danvers until everybody was set wondering -if at last Jack Towns had really and truly -fallen in love. The same question arose in -Jack's own mind, but he, at least, was able to -answer it. "Yes," he admitted to himself, "I -have had many fleeting fancies before, but none -that resembled this. I am determined to win -Millicent Danvers if devotion can accomplish -it. I never felt in that way before. Always I -have felt, that while one young woman pleased -me, there were others who might be equally -pleasing. I don't feel so now. It is Millicent -Danvers now, or nobody with me. I wonder -what she will think of my big, disorderly bachelor -establishment if she ever consents to be its -mistress? I'll wager something handsome that -she'll—well, it will be time enough to speculate -on that when I have won her. By the -way, she would say that differently—'when -I shall have won her.' Anyhow my present -task is to win her. If I do that she will take -care of the rest. And after all a bachelor establishment -isn't a home. Just think of the -difference between my big house, where everything -is in chaos, and that home of hers -among the blue hills of Milton." -</p> - -<p> -So he went on, thinking, wondering, speculating, -so long as she was fulfilling an engagement -to dance with somebody else whom he -hated and held in unmerited contempt without -any assignable reason. And when his own -turn came and he danced with her, his fancies -floated before his eyes as a dream pervades the -mind, a dream that so rejoices as to make of -waking a calamity. -</p> - -<p> -Millicent did well whatever she did at all. -In dancing with her, Jack felt that she simply -lifted herself half an inch or so from the floor -and floated about without again touching it. -It was a delight to dance with her, as every -young man who had enjoyed the experience -stood ready to testify, but Jack Towns rejoiced -even more in "sitting out" a set. For then, -with her arm in his he could promenade the -porches, or the pair could stroll out into the -grounds where common prudence and courtesy -required him frequently to readjust the wrappings -that protected her otherwise bare -arms and shoulders, or, better still, he could -seek out a secluded nook in the porch or elsewhere, -where they two might talk of things -that held interest for both of them in common. -</p> - -<p> -It was during one of these confabs, when -they sat out two dances in succession, that -Jack Towns invited himself to Boston and to -Millicent's home in the blue hills of Milton. -It came about in this way. Jack was really -and earnestly in love, for the first time in his -life, and the impulse to tell Millicent so was -well nigh irresistible. But Jack was a Virginian, -and he recognized the right of a young -woman to be courted in her own home. He -restrained his impulse of speech, therefore, so -far as open avowals were concerned, but his -utterances, short of a declaration, were such -as to leave the young woman in no doubt as -to his attitude and purpose. -</p> - -<p> -When she spoke of her prospective home-going, -he asked, a little eagerly perhaps, when -that was to occur. She answered: -</p> - -<p> -"It must be very soon—as soon as I shall -have done a duty that rests upon me. I'm -sorry Mr. Boyd Westover isn't here to-night. -He told me, when I met him casually this -afternoon, that he was obliged to return to -Wanalah." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose he was," answered Jack Towns -in a peculiarly inscrutable tone that he adopted -upon occasion. "But why? Do you particularly -want to see him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, not only particularly but peremptorily. -It is a part of the duty I have set myself. -I cannot go back to Boston till I do." -</p> - -<p> -"I see," he answered. "If you like I'll -call at The Oaks and ask you to ride with me. -We can ride over to Wanalah, and I'll see to -it that he shall be there at the time." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, no, no, no! That would never do. -There are reasons which I cannot explain, if -you'll excuse me. I must meet Mr. Westover -casually, quite by accident as it were." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, then," answered Jack, with all -the confidence he was accustomed to assume at -a court trial when his case was an uncertain -one. "I'll arrange the accident and create the -'casualty.' You have only to respond favorably -to the invitations you receive during the -next few days. I'll take care of the rest." -</p> - -<p> -There was a certain masterful self-confidence -in his words and tone that was somehow exceedingly -pleasing to Millicent. She felt that -Jack Towns was a man of limitless resource, -a man accustomed to do things and to get -others to do things, a man to be leant upon -with confidence, and the feeling was altogether -comforting. The thought that floated vaguely -through her mind, though she shrank from -formulating it, was that if ever Jack Towns -should love a woman, that woman would be -exceedingly comfortable in the certainty that -his care of her would be always tenderly solicitous -in its impulse, aggressively masterful in -its manifestation, and measurelessly ingenious -in its devices of safety for her against every -ill. If she had permitted her thought to frame -itself, as she resolutely refused to do, it would -have been to the effect that he was a man into -whose arms the woman he loved might throw -herself in full assurance of a welcome and in -trustful confidence of all-loving, all-daring protection. -She did not let the thought formulate -itself, but it floated nebulously in her mind, -which was perhaps even more dangerous—if -indeed there was any danger involved. -</p> - -<p> -In answer to his words she said: -</p> - -<p> -"You are certainly very good. I'll leave -it to you to arrange for me, and as soon as I -know definitely that my duty is done, I shall -go back to Boston,—or at least as soon after -that as my brother can come down here to escort -me. You know the journey is a trying -one." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know. But why trouble your -brother needlessly? I shall be obliged to go -to Boston sometime soon, and if you permit, -I shall be glad to be your escort." -</p> - -<p> -Jack was not fibbing. It is true that he had -no business that required him to visit Boston, -and yet he really felt it necessary for him to -go thither. He had fully decided to ask Millicent -Danvers to become his wife, and he must -go to Boston for that. -</p> - -<p> -Millicent was right in saying that the journey -was a trying one. In that infant age of -railroad service the trip from Richmond to -Boston involved eight or ten changes of cars, -some of them at midnight. There were no -sleeping cars, no parlor cars, no dining cars, -no buffet cars—nothing in fact but rattletrap -coaches, linked together with chains and pins -and controlled only by hand brakes. No car -ran through, or further than its own railway -terminus. The connections were never close, -and for the waiting times between there were -no accommodations other than those which an -open and often rain-drenched railway platform -afforded. -</p> - -<p> -But there was the question of chaperonage -to be considered. Boston notions on that subject -were different from Virginia notions. In -Virginia it was held that a man in escort of a -woman was in honor bound to protect her not -only against all others but against himself as -well. He must not, under such circumstances, -permit his conversation even remotely to approach -the confines of courtship. He must -maintain, from beginning to end of the escorting, -the attitude of one performing a duty with -absolutely unemotional and impersonal temper. -The man escorting was supposed to be a gentleman -who would suffer no harm to come to -the woman under his escort, even if his life -should be the forfeit. -</p> - -<p> -But Jack Towns understood the difference -between Northern and Southern manners in -that respect, and so, to his offer of escort, he -promptly added: -</p> - -<p> -"My good old negro Mammy will go with -you, of course. She'll see that you have all -the comforts that are possible on such a trip." -</p> - -<p> -"But if you take her to Massachusetts she -will be free, will she not?" asked Millicent. -</p> - -<p> -"Free? Yes. She is free now to do as she -pleases, and she regulates me with the high -hand, just as she did when I was a baby. Why -she even dominates my dress. Not long ago -I came to breakfast with a blue cravat on, and -she made me change it on the ground that I -had a murder case to defend that day and she -thought black would be more appropriate. -When I get ready to go to the club in the afternoon, -she inspects me, and if any detail of my -costume fails to meet the exigent requirements -of her code, I have to make a change, no matter -how hurried I am. Oh, she's free. Why, -she took away the breakfast I had ordered -the cook to prepare for me the other day because -it included fried eggs, and she was persuaded -that fried eggs didn't agree with me. -She is absolute mistress in my establishment, -and every darkey there recognizes the fact. -Her authority is supreme; mine is utterly subordinate. -If I want any change made in the -household arrangements, I must appeal to her -to order it. Fortunately she always gives the -order because she still regards me as her -'precious chile,' for whom everything must be -done, and whose uttermost whim is to be gratified, -regardless of the convenience of other -folk, high or low." -</p> - -<p> -"But she is a slave," answered Millicent, -"and—" -</p> - -<p> -"In a way, I suppose she is," he interrupted, -"but all the eloquence of all the orators of -Boston could not convince her that her condition -in life could be improved. She is absolute -mistress of an establishment and of the poor -fellow who owns it. She has everything that -her heart desires, everything that her imagination -can conjure up as a want. Her present -is provided for, and her old age is secure. I -don't know any device of freedom that can -match that." -</p> - -<p> -"Neither do I," Millicent answered; "but -I cannot approve slavery as an institution. I -am prejudiced, perhaps, but—" -</p> - -<p> -"I am not prejudiced," he answered, "but -I thoroughly agree with your dislike of slavery -as an institution. All our great Virginians, -Thomas Jefferson, John Randolph, George -Wythe, Henry Clay, and the rest, have regarded -the institution as an inherited evil to -be got rid of in any way that might be practicable, -in any way that might give to the negroes -a chance to become self-supporting citizens. -Thomas Jefferson put the Virginian -thought into an apt phrase when he said that -in freeing the negroes we must not 'arm them -with freedom and a dagger.' He might have -added, as many Virginians have done in practice, -that we must arm them with a hoe and -a plow." -</p> - -<p> -"I see," she said, "and history teaches us -that Virginia has done more for the restriction -of slavery than any other State. It was in her -cession of the Northwest territory that a clause -was written forever excluding slavery from -that region; and we cannot forget that in the -convention which framed the constitution, the -Virginia delegates fought vigorously for a provision -to stop the African slave trade in the -year 1800, and the New England delegates -fought to continue it for eight years longer. -I think these things are not understood, and -I think I sympathize with your Virginian resentment -of outside interference by people who -do not understand. At any rate I shall carry -back to Boston with me a very different impression -of your attitude from that which I -had before. I shall be honored to have you -for my escort, Mr. Towns, and delighted to -be coddled all the way home by your dear old -Mammy." -</p> - -<p> -At that moment one of the young men who -had secured a place on Millicent's card came to -claim his dance, and the conversation was at -an end. -</p> - -<p> -But Jack Towns had a problem to solve. -He had promised to bring Millicent and Westover -together without seeming intention, and -he did not know how he was to do it. Suddenly -a thought came to him, and, as he had -exhausted his claim upon Millicent's dancing -card, he took French leave, mounted his mare -and set off for Chinquapin Knob, whither -Carley Farnsworth had preceded him many -hours before. He arrived there about breakfast -time and entered at once into negotiations. -</p> - -<p> -Carley Farnsworth, as Jack Towns knew, -was in close touch with Judy Peters; for these -two friends of Boyd Westover had many confidences -with respect to the campaign, of which -Westover himself knew nothing, and Towns -had learned all about Judy's attitude and initiative -in Boyd's campaign. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course Boyd's election is secure," said -Jack, as he buttered a slice of the hot breakfast -bread; "and now that Butler has withdrawn -and Colonel Conway has endorsed his -candidacy, his support will include a large majority -of the vote down here." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, and that is what Judy and I have -been working for. Her influence in the mountains, -when she gets ready to give the word, -will settle the question of election. But Judy -is practising psychological therapeutics. She -wouldn't recognize the words, but they represent -the facts. Her sole interest in this thing -is to brace Boyd up by showing him that his -fellow men believe in him. To that end she -has planned to secure as heavy a vote for him -as possible down here among the planter people. -To that end she has held back all intimations -of her purpose in the mountains. To -that end she arranged with Butler to withdraw -from the senatorial contest and run for the -lower house instead. Of course you understand -that she means to elect him to that." -</p> - -<p> -"No, does she?" asked Towns in astonishment. -"I hadn't thought of that. How -astonishing!" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, it is only a conjecture of mine, but -it is what is going to happen. Judy always -pays her debts to the last cent. In this case, -by his own withdrawal Butler throws every -Democratic vote in the district to Boyd, and -you don't imagine, do you, that he did that -without prospect of a recompense? Of course -Judy negotiated it, and it is my conjecture that -the price she is to pay is the mountain vote -for Butler's election to the House of Delegates, -which, with the Democratic vote down here, -will elect him. Of course I know nothing -about the matter. It is only that I can see -through a millstone if there is a hole in it. -And besides I know Judy's ways. She doesn't -care a fig for this election except to make it -serve her purpose of setting Boyd up again -and making him feel that he is Westover of -Wanalah." -</p> - -<p> -"I see," answered Jack; "and the old -woman would do anything in reason, I suppose, -to aid in the accomplishment of that -purpose?" -</p> - -<p> -"Anything in reason? Yes. And anything -out of reason too. What is it you have in -mind?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I want Judy to give a frolic of some -kind, and I'll take Miss Danvers to it. Can -you arrange that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Easily, if it is likely to benefit Boyd. But -I don't see—" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you don't. But I tell you it will -do more for his rejuvenation than would his -unanimous election to the Senate. Of course -he must be there, and so must Miss Danvers. -I will take care of the rest." -</p> - -<p> -"What is it you're up to, Jack?" asked -Farnsworth in not unnatural curiosity. -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not tell you, except that I want -Miss Danvers and Boyd Westover to meet -casually. Besides, Miss Danvers is an interested -and sympathetic student of Virginia life, -and I want to show her the mountain side -of it before she goes back to Boston. How -soon can you arrange the thing, Carley?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, let's see. Edgar Coffey, who is not -supposed to know me by sight or by name is -to be here to-night. He will see Judy tomorrow, -some time, and deliver my messages -about Butler's withdrawal and the rest of it. -Will next Saturday do for the party?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, if you can arrange it so soon." -</p> - -<p> -"Judy does things promptly, when she is -minded to do them at all, and in this case she -is sure to be so minded. You may safely invite -Miss Danvers to be one of the guests at -next Saturday's frolic. Now you must go to -bed. You had a hard day yesterday, and made -a brilliant speech, and of course you danced -all night with Miss Danvers. Since then you -have ridden fifteen miles with a load on your -mind. It is time for you to take some rest. -The front room in the west wing is prepared -for you. Go!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -XXXIV -<a id="chap34"></a> -<br /> -JUDY'S PLANS OF CAMPAIGN -</h3> - -<p> -The events at Fighting Creek threw -Webb's political advisers into something -like panic. They realized that -Butler's withdrawal and Colonel Conway's -support of Westover's candidacy would give -Westover a majority vote in the piedmont section -of the district. If Webb was to win at -all, it must be by securing the mountain vote. -To that end they sent all their speakers into -the mountains, arranging that Webb himself -should speak there twice or thrice a day. He -was a plausible fellow, persuasive in his oratory -and capable of verbal acrobatics of a kind -likely to be attractive to simple minded audiences. -But chiefly, Webb's backers relied upon -negotiations with Judy Peters, whose control -over the mountain vote of her own county was -almost absolute, and whose influence over the -vote in other mountain parts of the district -was apt to be controlling if she saw fit to exercise -it, as in many cases she did not. -</p> - -<p> -In the present campaign Judy had given no -sign. Apparently she was altogether indifferent. -If she should persist in that indifference, -then a vigorous speaking campaign might turn -the battle; but if she could be induced to take -an active interest in Webb's election, the result -would be secure. -</p> - -<p> -So Webb and some of his most persuasive -lieutenants were set to "arouse Judy's interest." -They visited her immediately after the -Fighting Creek disaster, and told her of the -danger that impended. She entertained them -with glorified fried chicken, stewed shoat, salt -pork with cream gravy, apple butter, and limitless -apple jack, but she declined to commit -herself. To all their solicitations she replied -in carefully equivocal phrases that left them -pleased, encouraged, but by no means satisfied. -</p> - -<p> -"The old gal's a-goin' back on us, it's my -belief," said Foggy when these results were -reported to him. -</p> - -<p> -"You are certainly mistaken," Webb answered. -"I had a long, confidential talk with -her and I came away from the conference with -an unshakable conviction that she means to -throw her uttermost influence in my favor." -</p> - -<p> -"Did she say so in plain words?" asked -Foggy. -</p> - -<p> -"No, not precisely that, but she certainly -intended to give me that impression. You -don't know Judy, or you would understand. -She likes to keep one hanging on, as it were. -She never commits herself by definite promises. -Sometimes she doesn't let even her henchmen -know how they are going to vote until the -night before election. We can safely trust -ourselves in Judy's hands." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I hope you're right, but I'd feel a -good deal better," responded Foggy, "if we -had a definite promise." -</p> - -<p> -No sooner was the visit of the Webb forces -over than Judy turned to Sapphira and said: -</p> - -<p> -"Go an' hang my red petticoat on the -frontmost panel o' the fence, an' leave it -there." -</p> - -<p> -"Is Edgar Coffey a-comin' long by here this -evenin'?" asked the girl who had rendered -this service on several former occasions. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be too knowin', Sapphiry, an' don't -git yourself into a inquirin' frame o' mind. -That there red petticoat's enough fer you to -think about jest now." -</p> - -<p> -About sunset Edgar Coffey came slouching -up the road, apparently intending to pass the -place without stopping, but when he saw the -red petticoat hanging over the top rail of the -fence he seemed suddenly to remember that he -wanted a drink of water from Judy's glacial -spring, with something to temper its coldness -perhaps. So he leaped the fence, and passing -around the house, toward the spring, confronted -Judy at her back door. Quite casually -she invited him in, and after her hospitable -habit she brought forth a decanter of apple -jack for his entertainment. -</p> - -<p> -"Now drink sparin'-like, Edgar," she said, -"'cause you's got business to ten' to an' I -don't want none o' that confusion o' tongues -the Bible tells about. But mend your drink -an' git over your tired an' then I'll give you -your pinters." -</p> - -<p> -Edgar Coffey was habitually a sober man. -That is to say he never drank liquor that he -must pay for; but when the tipple cost him -nothing he was apt to make up for lost time. -Judy, whose habit it was to know all about -the men she dealt with, knew this, and upon -occasion tempered her alcoholic hospitality -with prudent reserve. If she had had no mission -for Edgar Coffey to fulfil, he might have -emptied the bottle without interference on her -part. As it was, she withdrew the supply as -soon as he had filled his little tumbler for the -third time, and as soon as he had emptied it -again she addressed herself to the business in -hand. -</p> - -<p> -"That there William Wilberforce Webb has -been here with his gang, to 'lectioneer me," -she said. She would have used some opprobrious -epithet with Webb's name if she could -have thought of one that seemed to her more -scornful than the man's own cumbersome name -did. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I knowed they was a-comin'," answered -Edgar. -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind what you knowed. Listen to -me. You is to go an' git Morris Bryant an' -Lem Fulcher, an' Wyatt Fletcher an' two or -three others, an' 'tend his speakin' meetin's, -specially' them as don't lay close to here—them -as is held in the furder parts o' the mountings -where may be a word from me don't -count for as much as it does round here." -</p> - -<p> -"Is we to raise a racket an' break up the -meetin's?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. Yous is to be as meek as Moses, an' -ax questions, jest as ef you was doubtful like -an' a seekin' information. But you ain't to -ax William Wilberforce Webb none o' the -questions, 'cause he mout answer 'em an' spile -the game. 'Tain't answers we want, but effec's. -You is to ax everybody you see, what -that feller's wagon-load o' name means. An' -you's to wonder, jest curious like whar he got -it to tote round. An' then you can sort o' -explain your curiosity by sayin' you's heard -somewhere's as how William Wilberforce is -one o' the biggest abolitionists, an' wonder -whether Webb is his nephew or his son, an' if -Webb ain't maybe a abolitionist in disguise, -a tryin' to git into the Legislatur. Ef anybody -answers your questions an' tries to explain, -you can jest say, 'Well, I dunno nothin' -'bout it, only it looks sort o' 'spicious like,' an' -go away an' hunt up another crowd. You -know how to do a sneakin' thing like that, -Edgar, better'n anybody I ever seen, an' the -men I's named fer your feller sinners ain't no -slouches at that sort o' thing nuther. You's -got no call to argify or say anything as anybody -can pick up. You-all's business is jest -to ax questions, raise suspicions an' make impressions." -</p> - -<p> -She chuckled as Edgar winked at her in -token of complete comprehension, and as she -did so she muttered: -</p> - -<p> -"That feller's name'll be the death of him -yit." -</p> - -<p> -Then she added: -</p> - -<p> -"Now you can have another pull at the apple -jack, Edgar, an' then you must be off, fer -they's a big Webb gatherin' 'pinted fer to-morrer -over at Olivet church, an' I want all -you fellers to be thar." -</p> - -<p> -"Wait a minute, Judy," said the hulking -mountaineer as he unlimbered his legs and sat -upright in his chair. "I's got a message fer -you from Dr. Carley Farnsworth." -</p> - -<p> -"Why didn't you tell me that fust off?" -asked Judy almost angrily. -</p> - -<p> -"'Cause 'twouldn't 'a' been polite, like, tell -you was done speakin'. 'Ladies fust' is my -motto." -</p> - -<p> -"All right. Limber up your tongue an' tell -me what 'tis." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, he says he'll cover all expenses, but -you is to give a very select—them was his -words—a <i>very select</i> Brunswick Stew here -next Saturday an' let him bring up a wagon-load -o' folks from down below. He says it'll -do more'n the 'lection itself for Westover in -the way you an' him is a-thinkin' of. I didn't -ax him what he meant by that, 'cause he -seemed to think you'd know all about it. Oh, -he said you must be sure to send a partic'lar -invite to Westover. He's to speak over at -Cob Station Friday." -</p> - -<p> -Judy received the message placidly, and, -without comment upon it, hurried Edgar Coffey -away on his mission. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," she said to herself presently, -"Carley Farnsworth ain't no fool; but I'd -give somethin' purty to know how he expects -me to make a Brunswick Stew this late in the -fall when they ain't a tomato or a ear o' green -corn left alive in all the land." -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly she called for her three -sons, Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, and Theonidas, -who happened to be at home at the -time. -</p> - -<p> -"We's a goin' to give a barbecue nex' Saturday, -right out in the patch o' red oak an' -black gum woods. So you's got to git to work. -Kill an' dress a shoat an' two lambs an' 'bout -a dozen chickens, an' hang 'em in the spring -house to cool. Then you three haul out the -lumber from the corn crib an' knock up a lot -o' tables. No, Daniel Webster an' Henry Clay -can ten' to that, while Theonidas digs the -roastin' pits an' chops some oak an' hickory -wood to roast with. Chop it short, Theonidas, -an' split it fine, so's it'll go to coals quick." -</p> - -<p> -After she had given these orders and instructed -Sapphira as to duties that must devolve -on her, she busied her mind with other -things relating to the affair. First of all she -filled and lighted her pipe and sat down in a -big rocking chair to "do a little studyin'." -</p> - -<p> -"Very select," she mused. "That means -I mustn't let the fellers drink too much. I can -ten' to that, so they ain't no bother. He's a -goin' to bring a lot o' stuck-ups with him. -That's all right, an' I'll make 'em think we's -purty nigh on to bein' sort o' civilized ourselves. -Le's see; Burch Wrigley an' Lewis -Vance an' Jim Woodson won't do. They'd -go round chawin' meat an' a holdin' it in their -han's what hain't been washed sence Noah's -flood cleaned things up, like. Them fellers -ain't to have no invites. I'll send 'em a feed -in a bucket instid. -</p> - -<p> -"Le' me see! Jim Wood's a-goin' down -to the speakin' at Cob Station, Friday. I'll -tell him to tell Boyd to come up here Friday -night. Then I'll have him on the ground fer -Saturday. Oh say, Judy, I'll send a invite to -William Wilberforce Webb! It'll be good fun -to see him when he fin's out what sort o' party -I's got, an' oh Jemimy! When he fin's Boyd -here! An' jes' ten days 'fore the 'lection too! -It'll be fun all over the woods!" -</p> - -<p> -And Judy was so pleased with her little device -for amusement that she chuckled over it -for full ten minutes afterward. She wound up -her chuckling with the exclamation: -</p> - -<p> -"William Wilberforce Webb! Blue lightning -what a name! By the time Edgar Coffey -an' them fellers is through with him he'll wish -he'd boxed up that name an' put it in his -cellar 'fore ever he come up into the mountings. -An' I'll string out the whole o' that -name every time I speak to him on Saturday." -</p> - -<p> -Having thus settled upon her arrangements -and set them going, Judy turned her meditations -into another channel. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course Carley Farnsworth knows what -he's about, but I don't. May be I can figger -it out, though. He sent word as how this thing -would do more good to Boyd than the 'lection -itself. I reckon it somehow tetches on his -trouble with that gal what's been a preyin' on -his mind. I reckon that's it, an' Carley sees -how to make it patch things up like. Course -that's it. They wouldn't be no sense in it ef -that wasn't the meanin'. All right. Ef we -can straighten things out, twix' Boyd an' the -gal, they won't be no more trouble o' no sort -'bout him. They ain't never no cause to worry -'bout a feller that's got a big office an' a little -gal all to wunst, I reckon." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap35"></a> -XXXV -<br /> -A MOUNTAIN TOP REVELATION -</h3> - -<p> -The barbecue at Judy's was successful -in every way. Jack Towns and Carley -Farnsworth took two crowded -wagon-loads of young women up the mountain, -starting early in the morning, and there were a -dozen or twenty young men on horseback -to complete the piedmont contingent. Boyd -Westover was already at Judy's, and the Queen -had summoned all the presentable mountain -folk, male and female, to the feast and frolic. -</p> - -<p> -Millicent had begged Margaret to go, but -there were conclusive reasons why she should -not, some of which she mentioned in excuse -and some of which she forbore to mention. -Her aunt was really ill, as a result of shock. -Her father was by no means well. She herself -was in distress, and above and beyond all, -she did not wish to meet Boyd Westover. She -could conceive of nothing more embarrassing -than a meeting with him under the circumstances. -She did not say so to Millicent, but -Millicent understood, and Millicent had plans -of her own, in aid of which, as Jack Towns -had clearly set forth, to her, this expedition -had been organized. -</p> - -<p> -Another absentee, whose absence Judy resented -rather angrily and vituperatively, because -his absence robbed her of anticipated fun, -was William Wilberforce Webb. He was on -his way to Judy's when he learned that Boyd -Westover was there. Then suddenly he remembered -some engagement that took him in -a different direction and far away from the -festivity. He sent an elaborately apologetic -and rhetorically grandiloquent letter of apology, -which Judy did not read further than the -opening sentences that announced his inability -to be present. -</p> - -<p> -Having dug so much of meaning out of the -rubbish of words in which it was hidden, she -muttered: -</p> - -<p> -"The durned coward!" and cast the letter -into the fire. -</p> - -<p> -But there was fun enough and to spare. -The mountaineers understood that this was a -show, that they were the performers and that -the guests from the piedmont region were the -audience. They put forth their utmost endeavors -to entertain, and they were abundantly -successful. Their contests of strength and -agility, their exhibitions of skill with the rifle, -in throwing "rocks" at a minute mark, and -in other ways, won a degree of applause that -might have satisfied even the morbid desires -of an opera company. -</p> - -<p> -Millicent was standing by Westover's side, -talking of indifferent things, when some change -of program in the athletics created an unannounced -intermission. She seized upon the -occasion for the accomplishment of the purpose -that had brought her thither. -</p> - -<p> -"There must be a grand view," she suggested, -"from the top of that rock up there." -</p> - -<p> -"There is," he answered, "and I'd like you -to enjoy it. Will you mind walking—or perhaps -I should say climbing—up there?" -</p> - -<p> -She responded gladly and the two set off. -The climb was not an easy one, and it was -quite half an hour before they reached the summit. -When they arrived there Westover led -his companion to the best points of observation, -but he was disappointed to find that her -enthusiasm was less than he had hoped. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't care much for the views after -all," he ventured to say, half reproachfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I do. Or rather, I should enjoy them -intensely, if it were not that I have something -on my mind, something that it is my duty to -do and that I fear I shall go wrong in doing. -It was for that that I came up here with you, -Mr. Westover, in order that I might talk with -you apart from the crowd down there." -</p> - -<p> -She paused timorously, and nervously -stripped the glove she had unconsciously removed -from her hand. By way of encouragement, -Boyd Westover said: -</p> - -<p> -"Go on. I shall be glad to hear anything -you have to tell me." -</p> - -<p> -She remained meditatively silent for half a -minute more. Then she asked, with great, -open, honest eyes looking into his: -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Westover, can you, do you believe a -woman—in the same way that you take a -man's word, I mean? If Mr. Towns, or Dr. -Farnsworth, should solemnly assure you of the -perfect truth of anything they might have to -say to you, you would believe him as implicitly -as if his statement were a fact within your personal -knowledge. Can you believe a woman's -solemn assurance in the same way and to the -same extent?" -</p> - -<p> -"When you are the woman making the -statement, yes!" he answered gallantly, but -with an assurance of sincerity in his voice, and -with a still more emphatic assurance of sincerity -in the eyes that looked straight into hers. -"I shall believe anything you tell me as firmly -as I believe in my own existence, or in the -stability of the rocks under our feet." -</p> - -<p> -"I thank you sincerely," she said, with that -Bostonian fulness of expression that had peculiarly -charmed all the Virginians who had -enjoyed a meeting with her. "Now I'll make -the statement that you are to believe as absolutely -true." -</p> - -<p> -She paused, as if framing her utterance carefully. -After a moment she said: -</p> - -<p> -"In what I am going to say to you, and in -seeking this opportunity to say it, I do not -represent anybody but myself. Especially I -do not represent Margaret Conway." -</p> - -<p> -He started a little at the name, and she observed -the fact, but she went on, not heeding it. -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed in telling you what I am going to -tell you, I am violating Margaret's earnest and -express commands. Perhaps I am even violating -a confidence of friendship. I don't -know, and it makes no difference. It is my -duty to tell you, and I'll do that duty at all -hazards. It involves the life-long happiness -or unhappiness of two persons whom I hold in -affectionate regard." -</p> - -<p> -By this time Westover, nervous, restless, -troubled and enthusiastic as he was, was -wrought up to the verge of delirium. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me!" he cried earnestly. "Tell me -quickly! I can endure the suspense no longer." -</p> - -<p> -In reply the girl, who had completely recovered -her self-control, said very deliberately: -</p> - -<p> -"What I have to tell you may perhaps explain -many things that you have not hitherto -understood. It is this: the letters you wrote -to Margaret Conway at the time of your -trouble were never delivered to her; the letters -she wrote to you at that time were never -posted. That is all." -</p> - -<p> -"How do you know this?" he asked, seizing -her by the shoulders as if intent upon shaking -the answer out of her. "Do you <i>know</i> -it or is it only conjecture? Tell me, quick, -how do you know it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have seen the letters," she answered, -calmly enjoying his half-mad excitement. -</p> - -<p> -"But how do you know mine were not received -and hers not mailed?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have seen them," she answered. "Yours -were not opened and Margaret had never seen -them. Hers were addressed and stamped, but -bore no postmarks. Be perfectly sure, Mr. -Westover, that I know all I say." -</p> - -<p> -"But who interfered? Why were the letters -stopped in transit?" he asked almost angrily. -</p> - -<p> -"That I am not free to tell you. I am concerned -only for you and Margaret. The rest -concerns another person, and I have no -right—" -</p> - -<p> -"Was it Colonel Conway? Did he—" -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Westover, you know Colonel Conway. -Therefore you know it was not he, just as you -know that he isn't a coward or anything else -dishonorable. Now please don't ask me any -further questions. I have already violated obligations, -I suppose. At any rate I have put -you in possession of the essential facts. The -rest lies with you. We must go down the hill -now." -</p> - -<p> -The two started off together, but before they -had journeyed far, Westover stopped suddenly -and, taking both the girl's hands in his, said -fervently: -</p> - -<p> -"I thank God, and I thank you, Millicent -Danvers. To the end of my life I shall thank -you. Now let us be off, for I must get away -from here." -</p> - -<p> -She did not ask him why, but she understood -and approved. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap36"></a> -XXXVI -<br /> -THE MEETING AT THE OAKS -</h3> - -<p> -As the two neared the scene of Judy's -festivities, Millicent suddenly stopped -and, looking straight into Westover's -eyes, asked: -</p> - -<p> -"You are very sure you believe me, and that -I have acted upon the prompting of conscience -alone?" -</p> - -<p> -"Millicent Danvers, I never believed anything -in my life more confidently than I do -that." -</p> - -<p> -"And do you think I have done right?" -</p> - -<p> -"Right? Yes. You have saved two lives -from wreck and wretchedness. Could anything -be righter than that? You have a sensitive -conscience; bid it rest easy in the consciousness -of a brave deed well done. Charles -Kingsley says: 'God gives it to few men to -carry a line to a stranded ship.' That is what -God has given it to you to do. Be sure I shall -not compromise you in any way, and may God -always bless you!" -</p> - -<p> -Both were too much overwrought to indulge -in further speech. They hurried on to the -house, and Boyd went instantly to Judy, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"I'm sorry to miss the rest of the frolic and -especially the evening dance; but I find I must -leave immediately." -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right, Boyd, ef it's becase o' the -gal," answered Judy with womanly sympathy. -"Jest set still here fer five minutes an' I'll have -Theonidas bring your horse round to the road -back o' the house, so's nobody'll see you a settin' -off. Say, Boyd, that Boston gal's awful -nice. I wish 'twas her." -</p> - -<p> -"Let Jack Towns dance with her to-night, -Judy, and you'll be satisfied." -</p> - -<p> -Five minutes later Westover was in the saddle -and hurrying down the mountain as rapidly -as his concern for the welfare and the -bones of Rob Roy would permit. That enthusiastic -quadruped had an unconquerable preference -for the faster gaits familiar to horse -flesh, and, if left to himself, he would have -gone at a gallop all the way down the mountain. -But his master, with a discretion superior -to his, restrained him, permitting only a -trot on the levels and compelling what the -horse evidently regarded as an absurd walk -down the steeper inclines. -</p> - -<p> -In spite of all restraints the good horse carried -him over the twenty-mile distance in little -more than two hours' time, and it was at -the gloaming time that he approached The -Oaks. -</p> - -<p> -He had formed no plans when he rode away -from Judy Peters's place. His first thought -as he went down the mountain was that he -would go to Wanalah, write a letter to Margaret, -enclose it in a note to Colonel Conway -and send it by a special messenger. He abandoned -that program promptly, and after framing -and rejecting several others of less elaborate -formality, he resolved to go straight to -Margaret. -</p> - -<p> -"I have a right to do that," he said to himself. -"Now that I know what her attitude has -been it is not only my privilege but my duty -to deal directly with her, to tell her what I -have learned, to tell her of the misapprehension -I have labored under, to renew my suit -and to learn from her lips what her present -feeling is. I know that, already, but it will be -reassuring to have her tell me of it. God bless -that Boston girl and her New England conscience -and her courage! For it required courage -of a high order to do what she did. Not -many people would have dared do it." -</p> - -<p> -So thinking he rode into the house grounds -at The Oaks while the last glow of daylight -was fading out of the sunset side of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -Seeing a young negro, he dismounted and -tossed the rein to the boy, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Don't stable him; just walk him back and -forth till he cools down and then hitch him -somewhere handy; I shall ride again presently." -</p> - -<p> -Walking rapidly up the path he stepped upon -the porch, and there met Margaret face to face -for the first time since he had gaily bidden her -adieu at midsummer. -</p> - -<p> -"Margaret!" he exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -"Boyd!" she answered, and a moment later -he had taken her in his arms and caressed her -fervently. -</p> - -<p class="illustration"> -<a id="img-436"></a> -<img src="images/img-436.jpg" alt="Margaret! . . . Boyd!" /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">"Margaret!" . . . "Boyd!"</span>—<i>Page 436.</i> -</p> - -<p> -"You have come at last!" she said as she -withdrew herself from his embrace. -</p> - -<p> -"At last?" he asked in answer. "It was -only two hours ago that I learned that I might -come at all. I was twenty miles away then, -and I am here now, here to claim fulfilment -of the most glorious promise a woman ever -made to a man—here to claim you, Margaret." -</p> - -<p> -"I know," she answered, as they sank into -porch chairs. "Don't let us waste time in -explanations, now that they are so utterly unnecessary. -Just let us be happy." -</p> - -<p> -The conversation thus begun lasted until -near supper time. It is not necessary to report -it for the information of any who have -been lovers, and as for the rest, they would -never understand. -</p> - -<p> -Just before the late supper time Westover -suddenly awakened to his duty. -</p> - -<p> -"I must see your father," he said. "Without -his permission I have no right to consider -myself a guest in his house." -</p> - -<p> -Margaret, knowing her father's perplexed -eagerness to see Westover and be reconciled -with him, smiled as she answered: -</p> - -<p> -"I'll send for Father." -</p> - -<p> -She did so, and presently the old Colonel -came limping into the porch. As he approached, -Margaret slipped into the house, -leaving the two men alone. -</p> - -<p> -They greeted each other with a cordiality -that rendered all explanations and apologies -needless, but Colonel Conway insisted upon -explaining and apologizing. -</p> - -<p> -"I've been a coward, Boyd! I've been an -abject coward." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know any other man living who -would dare say that, Colonel." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps not. No, I suppose not. Still -it is true, and I'm profoundly ashamed of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Now my dear Colonel Conway," interjected -Westover, "let us not talk of that. -This is the happiest hour of my life and, I -hope, of Margaret's. Let us not spoil it by -discussing disagreeable things which are completely -past and gone." -</p> - -<p> -"But there are some things that I must -explain, Boyd, and you must listen to me. I -ought to have gone to you in Richmond at -the time of your trouble. I didn't, because -I was forbidden to do so by an authority which -I was cowardly enough to yield to. Margaret—great -woman that she is—told me then -I was a coward, and she was right. When -you came back to Wanalah my purpose was -to go to you at once, but the same authority -forbade, giving me a sufficient reason in the -fact that you had written no line to Margaret. -I know better now, but only within -the past few days. Under that mistaken belief -I refused to join in your nomination. A -few days ago a catastrophe here revealed the -truth to both Margaret and me. She appealed -to me to do what my sense of honor might -suggest. That meant that I should go to you -at once, grasp your hand, tell you of the misapprehension -and of the facts that removed -it, and ask your pardon. No, don't interrupt. -You are generously disposed to spare me, but -I shall not consent to be spared. My first -impulse was to do what Margaret expected -of me. But an appeal was made to me to -spare another—the culprit in the case—and -I weakly yielded to it. I compromised with -my conscience and my honor. I wrote to Dr. -Farnsworth the letter you have doubtless seen, -and I did no more. It was all cowardice, -and I am heartily ashamed of it. Will you -forgive me, Boyd?" -</p> - -<p> -"Colonel Conway," answered Boyd with -intense earnestness, "no man with a cowardly -nerve in his body could ever have made the -manly self-accusing apology you have offered -to me. You grievously wrong yourself. It -was not cowardice that restrained you, but a -tender and generous consideration for a helpless -person who was entitled to every protection -you could give her. Now let us talk -no more of this! Let us never refer to it! -Let it be a dead thing of a dead past—a thing -done with, forgotten, banished forever from -our minds!" -</p> - -<p> -"You are very generous," answered the -now feeble old man. "But that is not a thing -to be wondered at. You are Westover of -Wanalah, and for nearly two hundred years -that name has stood for all there is of gentle, -generous and courageous manhood. You'll -stay to supper of course?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, Colonel. I have much to do to-night. -I must ride at once—as soon as I shall have -said 'good night' to Margaret." -</p> - -<p> -It took a considerable time for the saying -of that good night. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll be over here at ten o'clock to-morrow -morning, Margaret," he said, "and we'll go -for a ride. I'll have a servant bring over a -young filly I have in my stables, that you'll -be delighted to ride. She's spirited, but as -gentle as a zephyr—that's what I've named -her—'Zephyr'—and her paces are perfect. -She's to be yours from this time forth. I personally -educated her for you last summer, -before—before the trouble came." -</p> - -<p> -"But to-morrow is Sunday; aren't we to -go to church?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. We are going to Wanalah, so that -you may look over the place and see what alterations -are needed. I must tell you, Margaret, -that an investment,—very wise or very lucky, -I don't know which,—made by my father in -my name, has suddenly borne fruit, making -me, Jack Towns says—and he has charge of -the business—three times over the richest -man in Virginia. The wealth is of no consequence -in itself, but I mention it so that in -deciding what shall be done at Wanalah you -need have no fear of expense before your -eyes." -</p> - -<p> -"But church is at Round Hill, to-morrow, -almost under our noses. If we don't attend, -what will people say?" -</p> - -<p> -"Hang 'people.' We are 'people' now. -We're happy and we're going to stay happy. -And after all what can they say? They'll say -that Boyd Westover and Margaret Conway -are very much in love with each other, and -we don't care to contradict that, do we?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do not," she answered. -</p> - -<p> -"Neither do I. So let them say on. They'll -wonder when it is to be, and I'm wondering -about that myself now. When is it to be, -Margaret?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. Of course I must have time -to make a trousseau." -</p> - -<p> -"What for?" he asked. "Hang the trousseau, -or make it after we're married. What's -the difference? You've plenty of clothes, and -you're charming in any of them." -</p> - -<p> -"But Boyd, dear,—" -</p> - -<p> -"But Margaret dear," he interrupted, "you -see our marriage was to have occurred in the -late summer or early fall. It has already been -unreasonably delayed. It is nonsense to delay -it further. Think a little, and think quick, and -name a day." -</p> - -<p> -"If you must have it so, I suppose it must -be so. You are the Master now. And besides—" -</p> - -<p> -She did not finish her sentence till he challenged -it, saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Besides what, Margaret?" -</p> - -<p> -"I was only thinking," she answered, "that -I can't persuade Millicent to stay much longer, -and I do want her to be my first bridesmaid. -You see, Boyd, it isn't only that I'm very fond -of her—I am <i>very grateful to her</i>." -</p> - -<p> -"So am I," he answered with emphasis, but -neither the one nor the other said aught of the -occasion for gratitude. They both understood. -But he eagerly grasped at the helping -hand: -</p> - -<p> -"Then you <i>must</i> name a very early day, -or she will have flitted." -</p> - -<p> -"Let me see," she said; "the election will -occur one week from next Tuesday; that -is ten days hence. Our wedding shall occur -on the day after you are elected Senator." -</p> - -<p> -"But suppose I should not be elected?" -</p> - -<p> -"In that case the day will come round just -the same," she said; "but you will be elected. -I have Dr. Farnsworth's positive assurance -that you will be elected by the largest majority -any candidate ever received in this district, -and Dr. Farnsworth is a man who deals -exclusively in facts, never in conjectures." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you have concerned yourself about -my election?" -</p> - -<p> -"How could it be otherwise? As I told -you in the long ago, Boyd, I am not a woman -who loves lightly or lightly forgets." -</p> - -<p> -"I know," he answered. "Your father is -taking his supper alone. Go to him at once. -I'll mount and away." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -<a id="chap37"></a> -XXXVII -<br /> -THE OLD CLOCK TICKS AGAIN -</h3> - -<p> -"It's a rambling old place," Westover -said, as he and Margaret strolled -through the vast spaces of the Wanalah -rooms with their highly polished white ash -floors, their wealth of stoutly built, time darkened -furniture, their ancient, oaken wainscots -and their hospitably spacious fireplaces. "I -suppose a modern judgment would say tear -it down and build anew—" -</p> - -<p> -"Then the modern judgment shall have no -welcome when I am mistress here. Tear down -Wanalah, with its walls of thick masonry, its -generously large rooms, and its memories? -Only a vandal would do that. I'll tell you, -Boyd, there is only one change I'd like you -to make here." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll make it. What is it?" -</p> - -<p> -"There's a beautiful old standing clock in -the dining room that has never ticked since I -have known Wanalah. Won't you have somebody -put new works into it and set it going -again?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he answered, "but it shall not run -until you and I return from our wedding trip -and you enter the house as its mistress. We'll -go to it together then and set it going, to mark -time in a new era at Wanalah." -</p> - -<p> -"You are very good and thoughtful and -tender, Boyd. I suppose you are a trifle romantic -also, but I shall certainly not quarrel -with that, now or ever." -</p> - -<p> -"Speaking of our wedding trip, Margaret," -he said eagerly, "what is it to be? We can -go anywhere you like and everywhere you like -and for as long as you like." -</p> - -<p> -"Am I really free to choose?" she asked, -looking into his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, really and absolutely." -</p> - -<p> -"What I would like best, then, would be -to go up to that place of yours in the high -mountains. It was there that you suffered -most on my account; I want you to rejoice -and be happy there, Boyd, by way of recompense." -</p> - -<p> -"But it's rough living up there, Margaret; -perhaps you'd find it——" -</p> - -<p> -"I'd find it delightful. How could it be -otherwise, with just you and me there?" -</p> - -<p> -"It shall be so then. Nothing could delight -me more. I'll get Theonidas to carry -my things back up there at once. They are -still at Judy's. And we'll take along with us -whatever baggage you want." -</p> - -<p> -"That will be very little. It is the air, the -sunshine, the rain, the freedom and <i>you</i>, Boyd, -that I want. And besides, you know you have -forbidden me to have a trousseau. I'll be a -wood nymph or a water witch or something -of that sort, and such beings do not bother -with baggage, I suppose." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -During the next week, Westover was speaking -day and night, all over the district. He -really cared nothing for the office he was running -for, but it was his temperament to do his -mightiest to win in any contest in which he -had a part, and in this case he had the additional -impulse to gratify Margaret by securing -the biggest majority possible for his election. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, in his enthusiasm, Colonel Conway -forgot all about his gout, and busied himself -in the fulfilment of the promise he had -long ago given, to fill The Oaks at the wedding -time with the most brilliant company the -country could furnish, and to have feasting -there of a kind that might make the occasion -memorable. He even made a journey to -Washington and fairly forced his old commander -in the Mexican War, General Scott, to -be a guest, honored and honoring the occasion. -</p> - -<p> -Judy Peters was also an honored guest. -When Westover learned at last what part she -had borne in his nomination and in his campaign, -he rode all the way up to her place to -persuade her to come. And when the time -arrived, he sent the Wanalah carriage to fetch -her. She appeared at the ceremony, in a gown -more gaudily gorgeous than any that had been -seen in that region since "the time whereof -the memory of man runneth not to the contrary." -</p> - -<p> -Colonel Conway devoted his particular attention -to her. Among other special courtesies -he shared with her a bottle of precious -old Madeira—too precious, as he told her, -to be "wasted on a lot of young fellows whose -palates are not educated up to it." -</p> - -<p> -She drank the wine with relish, and after -the third thimbleful glass she gave judgment. -</p> - -<p> -"It's better 'n apple jack, but in the matter -o' taste, 'tain't quite up to peach an' honey, -is it now, Bob?" -</p> - -<p> -Since his boyhood nobody had ever ventured -to address Colonel Conway as "Bob," -but as it came from Judy's barbaric and privileged -lips, he rather liked it. -</p> - -<p> -The wedding was held in the early morning -because Boyd Westover had explained, -without a hint of whither they were bound, -that he and Margaret had a long journey to -make before nightfall. -</p> - -<p> -The wedding morn was on the day following -the election, and the returns were all in. -Carley Farnsworth summarized them to the -company by announcing that Westover was -elected by the vote of more than three-fourths -and nearly four-fifths of the citizens of the -district. -</p> - -<p> -Then he added: -</p> - -<p> -"And Sam Butler, Democrat, is elected to -the House of Delegates, chiefly by the mountain -vote, which seems to have been pretty -nearly solid for him." -</p> - -<p> -Judy Peters beamed upon Colonel Conway, -and ventured the remark: -</p> - -<p> -"'Tain't no use a-votin', Colonel, ef you -don't stick together an' vote to 'lect. That's -our way up in the mountings." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, Judy," the Colonel replied, "I'm -afraid you're a sad sinner. I'm afraid you -manipulated that vote." -</p> - -<p> -"I ain't close acquainted with that big word -o' your'n, Bob, but I was purty nigh right in -my jedgment as to how this here 'lection was -a goin' to come out. Say, Bob, what d'you -think that there comb-cut rooster William -Wilberforce Webb thinks of hisself by now? -I wonder ef he'll unload some o' that name?" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Westover and his bride left as soon as the -ceremony was over, but Colonel Conway kept -the festivities going all day, and there was -a dance at night. -</p> - -<p> -The occasion was rich in opportunities for -Jack Towns, and, with the alert energy which -was characteristic of him, he made the most -of them. When, two days later, he left for -Boston as Millicent's escort, there was no -room for doubt in anybody's mind as to the -outcome of his visit to the blue hills of Milton. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -It was a month later, and winter had begun, -when Westover and Margaret—just entering -the house—went to the clock and set it going. -She said something—no matter what. He -said nothing, but gathering her head to his -breast, he caressed her. Words seemed superfluous. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -THE END. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="thought"> -******** -<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t2"> -The Potter and the Clay -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> -A Romance of To-day -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -By MAUD HOWARD PETERSON. Illustrated by -Charlotte Harding. l2mo, decorated cloth, $1.50 -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -A strong and impressive story—one of the -most forceful of recent novels by a new author -of promise and ability. The motive is love versus -loyalty; the characters are alive and human; the -plot is puzzling, and the action is remarkably vivid. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t2"> -A Carolina Cavalier -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> -A Romance of the Revolution -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -By GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON. Illustrated by -C. D. Williams. 12mo, cloth, rough edges, gilt top, $1.50 -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -This is a historical romance of love, loyalty, and -fighting. The action passes in South Carolina -during the stormy days of British invasion, in the -region once made famous by Simms and not touched -since his day. 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It is a romance entirely -of the fancy, but a refreshing one."—<i>Chicago Tribune</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"The little romance is charmingly wrought, and will be sure to -find its way to the heart of the reader."—<i>Boston Transcript</i>. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.<br /> - BOSTON<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Westover of Wanalah, by George Cary Eggleston - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WESTOVER OF WANALAH *** - -***** This file should be named 60398-h.htm or 60398-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/3/9/60398/ - -Produced by Al Haines & the online Distributed Proofreaders -Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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