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diff --git a/old/63876-8.txt b/old/63876-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3165478..0000000 --- a/old/63876-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7524 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Milly: At Love's Extremes, by Maurice Thompson - -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: Milly: At Love's Extremes - A Romance of the Southland - -Author: Maurice Thompson - -Release Date: November 24, 2020 [EBook #63876] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MILLY: AT LOVE'S EXTREMES *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: Cover art] - - - -[Frontispiece: "Wonder ef John haint a comin', Pap?" _Page 8_.] - - - -[Illustration: Title page] - - - - MILLY: - - _At Love's Extremes_ - - A Romance of the Southland - - _By_ MAURICE THOMPSON - - Author of "Alice of Old Vincennes" - - _ILLUSTRATED_ - - - - Printed and Bound for the New Amsterdam Book - Company, New York City, Anno Domini Mcmi - - - - - Copyright, 1901 - by - New Amsterdam Book Company - - - - _Milly: At Love's Extremes_ - - - - - CONTENTS. - - CHAPTER I. MOUNTAIN DEW - CHAPTER II. MILLY - CHAPTER III. MR. HAWKINS NOBLE - CHAPTER IV. WHITE PLAYS "SEVING UP" - CHAPTER V. SOME LIGHT TALK - CHAPTER VI. AT THE GATE - CHAPTER VII. AN OLD PLANTATION HOUSE - CHAPTER VIII. WITH DOG AND GUN - CHAPTER IX. LUNCHEON AL FRESCO - CHAPTER X. MILLY INQUIRES - CHAPTER XI. DALLYING - CHAPTER XII. A BIT OF LOVE MAKING - CHAPTER XIII. AT THE RUIN - CHAPTER XIV. A WHISPER IN THE CABIN - CHAPTER XV. A DISCLOSURE - CHAPTER XVI. CONVALESCENT - CHAPTER XVII. DREAMS AND PLANS - CHAPTER XVIII. REALITIES - CHAPTER XIX. WHITHER - CHAPTER XX. AFTER ALL - - - - -MILLY: - -AT LOVE'S EXTREMES - - - -CHAPTER I. - -MOUNTAIN DEW. - -A man stood on the jutting shoulder of a mountain overlooking a long, -narrow valley, whose scattering houses and irregular farm-plats, seen -through the clear air of that high region, appeared scarcely a -gun-shot distant, when in fact they were miles away. It was early -morning; the sun had barely cleared the highest peaks in the east, -and the landscape, albeit a mid-winter one, was wonderfully rich in -colors. On the oak trees the leaves still clung in heavy brown, -green and russet masses; the hickory forests, though leafless, made -bits of tender gray along the lower valley-slopes, whilst high up -toward the mountain tops, the billowy wilderness of pines, cedars and -chestnut trees added their variegated patch-work that gradually rose -and shaded off into the blue of distance. In some places where -storms, or the needs of man, had removed the oak woods, a dense, -frondous mass of young pines had leaped up with a greenness full of a -soft yellow glow. The sunshine and the wind of the South were -flowing over this scene, and there were fragrant odors and balsamic -pungency in every wave. - -The man, a tall, shapely fellow, was a young Englishman who had -lately come to the iron and coal region of Alabama to take charge of -extensive manufacturing and mining interests belonging to his family. -Just at present, with a true English faith in the value of outdoor -sports, he was hunting wild turkeys, or, for that matter, whatever -other wild game might chance to let him get within gun-shot of it. -He had left his hotel at Birmingham with the first hint of dawn, and -had steadily tramped over hills and mountain spurs and through wild -ravines and beautiful glades, without a sight of fur or feather. Now -he stood on this airy height, flushed with his healthful exercise, a -little disappointed and annoyed. But the mountain air of the South -has in it a tenderly exhilarating influence which affects the -imagination and lulls one into pleasant, though often rather vague -dreams. No matter if Edward Moreton was an intensely -practical-minded man of affairs, the kind of Englishman who is -willing to come to America and superintend iron works and coal mines, -he was, nevertheless, not wholly impervious to the poetry--the -lulling magnetism of the climate and the scene. For a while he -leaned on his gun, a long, heavy double-barreled piece; then he took -from his pocket a cigarette and match, seated himself on an old gray -stone and began smoking. In the midst of the valley below, ran a -rivulet, winding through the woods with a silvery shimmer, and out -across the farms and past one little mill, on into a deep gorge of -the stony hills. - -Moreton had not found his surroundings in Birmingham quite -satisfactory, notwithstanding the fact that he had fallen in love, -after the old time fervid fashion, with a fair young Northern girl -living there. The little mining town, cramped between the hills, -full of rough folk, raw and new, could not be very attractive to a -man who, no matter how practical and matter of fact in his -disposition, had studied art and who still nursed the artist's -dreams. As he sat there with his blue-gray eyes slowly sweeping the -valley, he was not as blithe-looking as a model sportsman should be. -His dog, a small brown spaniel, sat down at his feet and eyed him -lazily. No sound, save the rustle of the wind in the trees and a -dull distant tapping of a woodpecker, was disturbing the broad -silence of the forest. The sky was intensely blue. Suddenly a short -puff of dampness came from the southwest, followed by a growl of -thunder, a thing not usual in winter, even in that latitude. Moreton -arose and saw a heavy line of black cloud overhanging some conical -peaks far away on the southwestern horizon. - -"Come Nat," he said to his dog, "we must be going back; a nasty -squall is coming. We shall get our jackets wet." - -Nat answered with divers canine antics and the two turned away from -the valley, the man walking with long firm strides and the dog -trotting perfunctorily at his side. Their way led among the flanking -spurs and foot-hills of the range, now over great fragmentary -bowlders, now through yawning clefts and down winding defiles, -sometimes on bare ridges of shale, anon under the dark odorous -brushes of the pines. The cloud came after them, sending in advance -its gusts of moist, fragrant air. A vast wing reached up to the -zenith and a few big drops of rain pattered down. A morning shower -in the mountains comes at race-horse speed. The swiftest birds are -caught by it. A flock of noisy crows went flapping across the -valley, striving in vain to outstrip the slanting flood that fell -with a broad, washing roar from that rushing cloud. - -"We are in for a soaking, Nat," grumbled Moreton, as he plucked up -the collar of his shooting jacket; "a deuced bad outcome for our -first day's shooting in America!" - -Nat's tail was down and so were his ears. He relished the signs of -the weather no more than did his stalwart master. A chilliness was -creeping into the air, foretelling how disagreeable the rain was sure -to be. The very trees shivered as the sunshine was shut off by the -overlapping cloud. - -It was just as the storm was about to break that certain sharp cries -peculiar to the wild turkey reached the quick ears of sportsman and -dog. The man stopped short and cocked his gun, as the spaniel darted -away to a short distance and then began creeping through the low -underbrush, as a setter does when about to come to a point. In the -next instant four large birds were flushed, breaking from cover at -about forty yards, their wings making the woods resound with their -loud flapping. Almost at the same moment, the "bang--pang!" of -Moreton's gun, fired right and left, went echoing across the valley -and battling amongst the hills. A cock and hen were stopped short -and fell heavily. The dog sprang forward to lead his master to the -game, and then came a blinding down-gush of rain with a roar like -that of a cyclone. - -Moreton with great difficulty got the birds, and, after tying them -together by the feet, slung them across his shoulder. This -additional load and the hindering force of the rain made his further -progress quite laborious. Nat resumed his drooping, mechanical -jog-trot at his master's side. The young man leaned over and almost -shut his eyes as he pressed on, catching quick breaths as the cold -streams trickled down his back. His shooting jacket and trowsers -were meant to be impervious to water, but the chilling liquid was -dashed by the force of the wind against his neck and thence found its -way down to his heels. He did not hesitate, under such stress of ill -luck, to rush boldly against the door of a low, rambling mountain -cabin and demand admission. His knock on the rough planks was heard -by the inmates of the place, despite the heavy roar of the rain, and -the response was immediate. - -"Kem in, kem in," spoke a rather pleasing voice, in the peculiar -accent and intonation of the mountaineers of the region, as the door -was opened, letting the hunter and his dog in, along with a dash of -slanting rain. "Le' me take them birds, strenger, an' ye jest git -ther' by the fire. Hit's purty outdacious rainy all of a suddent; -purty near drownd a feller." The speaker was a slender, almost -slight, man, near fifty years old, flaxen-haired, thin-faced, with a -sharp nose and a straggling beard, still lighter than his hair. He -took the brace of birds off Moreton's shoulder and threw them aside -on the clean white floor. "I'll jest put yer gun up fur ye," he -continued, taking the weapon and leaning it against the wall in a -corner of the room. Then he quickly fetched a chair. "Set down an' -mek yerself at home, I'll punch up the fire, hit's got sorty low; -I'll git some light'ood knots." - -Moreton found himself in a place whose features at once interested -him. Glancing around the room he saw two low beds, a few plain -split-bottomed chairs, an old queer "bureau," or chest of drawers, -with glass knobs, some rude shelves with ironstone dishes on them, a -long flint-lock rifle, hanging in buck-horn forks over the door, one -of which forks also held a coon-skin bullet-pouch and curiously -carved powder-horn. The fire-place before which he sat was broad and -deep, roughly lined with jagged stones picturesquely black with -fleecy accumulations of soot from pine smoke; it was crossed by a -heavy charred wooden crane and on its broad jambs rested a curious -collection of cob-pipes, clay-pipes, wooden pipes and soft-stone -pipes, along with sundry ragged twists of brown home-raised tobacco. -There was a low, wide window on one side of the room, and beside it -Moreton's eyes rested for a moment on a slim girl's form in a -half-cowering position. She was so turned from him that he could see -no more of her face than a rounded line of one cheek. There was a -heavy brush of long, bright, yellowish flaxen hair, a very delicate -ear and a glimpse of a brown throat and neck. One hand, rather large -but shapely, lay along her lap, on the scant folds of a homespun -cotton dress, the skirt of which could not quite hide her -coarsely-shod feet. There was something curiously striking in this -crumpled little figure that held Moreton's gaze for a time. Through -an open door that gave into a smaller room, the intermittent hum of a -spinning-wheel made itself heard, distinct from the clash and swash -of the storm, and a tall angular woman walked back and forth, drawing -out and reeling up the coarse thread she was twisting. The man had -soon fetched wood and pine knots for the fire, and presently a -liberal flame wavered up to the mouth of the great old chimney. He -turned to Moreton and said: - -"Lay off yer coat, strenger, an' git yer shirt dry; hit's outdacious -onagreeable fur to hev on a wet shirt." - -Moreton smiled pleasantly. - -"Thank you, I will," he said, rising and stripping off the stiff -jacket. "You are very kind. I am covering your floor with water." - -"Shaw, that's nothin'," replied the man, in a tone of gentle -contempt; "ef ye'd see hit sometimes when I come in ye mought talk. -Them little puddles haint nothin' 'tall. The Colonel an' me jest -floods the whole house when we gits wet." - -"Wonder ef John haint a comin', Pap?" - -This sudden inquiry came in a sweet, half-shy voice from the girl at -the window. - -"She calls him John, I calls him Colonel," explained the man. Then -turning to answer the question: - -"Oh, ther's no 'countin' fur him; he's as like to stay out all day -and night es any way; hit don't make no differ'nce 'bout rain es to -him, do it, Milly?" - -The girl had turned her face toward the man when she spoke, but now -she averted it again, a little flush gathering on the brown cheek. - -"He don't mind no weather, strenger, the Colonel don't, rain er -sunshine hit's all the same to him, hain't hit, Milly?" continued the -host. - -"I wush he'd come on back home," exclaimed the girl, "that's what I -wush." Moreton had turned his back to the fire. He was astride of -the chair and the steam was rising vigorously from his wet garments. -Out of the corners of his eyes he kept glancing at that lithe, plump -little figure by the window. He had the taste of an artist, and here -was a model for brush or chisel to imitate. He was a genuine man, -too, and here was a bit of rare feminine beauty, no matter how -coarsely clad or how hopelessly uncultured. She had the grace of -outline common to wild things, and there was that half-pathetic, -half-glad beam in her face that appeals to a man's love of the -innocent and his pity of the weak. Her head was small and -well-poised above plump shoulders, her bust was full, yet girlish, -giving just a hint of that early ripeness so common in southern -countries, and her waist and limbs were perfect. At rare intervals -one sees such a girl among the hardy peasants of most mountain -regions, but not so often in America as elsewhere. - -"Do ye ever smoke a pipe, stranger?" inquired the host, offering -Moreton a cob pipe and a twist of tobacco. - -"Thank you, yes, I will take some of your tobacco; I have a pipe," -said the young man, drawing from his vest pocket a small meerschaum, -old and dark as mahogany. He had heard of the excellence of this -mountain home-grown tobacco. - -"Hit air purty good, ef I do say hit myself. Most of 'em roun' -here's glad to git Tom White's 'backer to chaw an' smoke, hain't -they, Milly?" Mr. White thus introduced himself and his tobacco at -the same time. - -At this point Mrs. White quit her wheel and came into the room. She -spoke to Moreton pleasantly, as if she had long known him, smiling -cordially. - -"Ef you menfolks don't care, I'll jest jine ye for a whiff er two," -she said, going to the chimney-jamb and selecting a pipe. - -They formed a strange group around that cabin fire. Moreton felt the -democratic force of the situation and enjoyed it to the full. - -"Hain't ye goin' to have a hand in this here gineral smoke, Milly?" -said Mr. White, chuckling jocosely and looking, under comically-drawn -eyebrows, at the girl. - -"Now, Pap, you know I don't smoke at all," she quickly answered, -getting up and leaving the room. Her movement was as light and -nimble as that of a hare. - -"Course she don't smoke, ye know," said White to Moreton, -confidentially lowering his voice; "I wus jest a yankin' at her fur -greens; she knows when I'm a greenin' of her, an' she gits tiffy at -me in a minute. She's es sharp es a darnin'-needle, Milly is." - -"Thomas, ye ortn't ter plague Milly so much, ye'll spile her temper. -Milly's a mighty good gal," said Mrs. White in a tone half entreaty -and half command. It was easy to see that Mrs. White ruled the -cabin. After a moment of silence, "She's oneasy 'bout the Colonel, -now, but then hit's no use, he's all right, rain er shine," responded -the man. - -Moreton, whose eyes furtively followed the girl as she left the room, -saw that the apartment into which she passed was neatly carpeted and -furnished with well-worn easy-chairs, a table and a desk. Between -the opening and closing of the door he caught sight, also, of long -shelves of books and some pictures. The room appeared quite large -and arranged as if for a gentleman's study. The contrast between its -almost elegant appointments and the arid blankness of the one in -which Moreton sat was so pronounced that, despite his patrician -self-control, a wave of surprise passed over his face. The quick -eyes of the mountaineer saw this. - -"That there air the Colonel's part of the house," he hastily said, a -trace of apology and disclaimer in his voice; "hit jest suits him. -He's got a outdacious sight o' larnin' an' plenty o' money. He kin -buy whatever he wants." - -"Yes," said Mrs. White, rather sharply, "an' jest es like es not he's -right now a stan'in' under some tree er rock a waitin' fur the rain -to quit an' a readin' of a book. Seems powerful quare to me." - -Moreton was almost tempted to ask questions, so quick an interest had -been generated by this gossip about the Colonel. Certainly this was -a strange home for a man of wealth and education. Possibly the -Colonel was some sport-loving gentleman from New Orleans, Mobile or -Montgomery, who had taken these apartments in the cabin as a sort of -shooting-box, he thought, for he had heard much of the peculiarities -and extravagances of rich Southerners. But his mental discussion of -this subject was cut short by a sudden movement on the part of White, -who sprang to his feet and elevated his hands. - -"Well, hit's jest too outdacious, Sarah," he cried, as if utterly -chagrined; "jest to think, the strenger kem in wet an' soaked an' -haint hed no liquor!" - -"'Bout like sech as we'ns to furgit what we're 'bout," responded Mrs. -White; "ye'll find the dim'jon under the tother bed behind the sack -o' 'taters." - -White dived under the bed in question and drew forth a large earthen -bottle. - -"Hit air peach liquor," he said, advancing upon Moreton; "the best -they air in these parts. Ye must parding us, strenger, fur we clean -furgot hit." - -Mrs. White fetched a large, heavy tumbler and handed it to Moreton. - -"Le' me pour fur ye, stranger," said White, uncorking the bottle. -"Ye'll find 'at hit air liquor wo'th a-drinkin'. Hit ain't pizened -with no revenue postage, ye may set thet down solid." - -Moreton, with no light inward protest, submitted his lips to the -proffered glass. His English taste for excellent drinks was never -more deliciously surprised. What began as a formal, carefully -guarded sip, crept on into a series of slow quaffs, ending in a final -hearty gulp. White grinned delightedly. - -"Haint hit good, strenger? Don't hit hev the outdaciousest way o' -gittin' to the very marrer of a feller's neck, of any liquor ye ever -tasted? Ef hit don't git ther', none don't. The Colonel sez hit's -the best liquor 'at he ever tasted! an' _he's_ traveled, _he_ hes. -_He's_ been in furren parts, Rome an' France an' them air places." - -Moreton was quick to acknowledge that the brandy was surpassingly -fine. It had the bouquet of old wine, the body of cognac and the -mellow fire of Scotch whisky, along with a faint trace of peach -kernels. He thought of a certain London club in which he would like -to introduce this Sand Mountain nectar. - -White partook sparingly of the precious beverage, and then carefully -replaced the bottle in its hiding-place under the bed. - -Meantime the heavy throbs of wind and rain shook the cabin to its -foundation. - -When the mountaineer returned to his chair by the fire, Moreton -inquired of him where the brandy was made. - -"Oh, I dunno jest wher' hit air made, nohow. We calls hit the -mounting jew," said White, glancing furtively at his wife. By "jew" -he meant dew. The peach brandy made in the sly little stills, -scattered among the mountains from North Carolina to Alabama, is -sometimes locally called mountain dew, or rather, "mounting jew." It -is not the drink of drunkards. In fact the mountaineers, with now -and then an exception, are remarkably temperate in the matter of -tippling; but the jug of "jew" is the special implement of their -hospitality. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -MILLY. - -That was a rain long to be remembered by the dwellers in the Sand -Mountain country. The thunder with which the storm had been heralded -soon ceased, and the masses of black clouds spread themselves wide, -softening into a smooth, leaden-colored sheet from horizon to -horizon, whilst the rain, driven by a throbbing wind, trailed in a -wavering flood over the rugged landscape. Every ravine and rocky -gully became a torrent of muddy water. The noises of the storm -united into a wide bellowing that throbbed heavily around the house -whose friendly shelter Moreton was but too glad to retain. - -The inmates of the place were not over-talkative, sitting for most of -the time listening with rather solemn attention to the heavy beating -of the wind and rain. - -After an hour had passed and Moreton's clothes had dried somewhat, he -was glad to accept his host's invitation to go into the Colonel's -part of the house. The glimpse he had caught of this -sumptuous-looking room--sumptuous as compared with the rest of the -uncouth, scantily furnished house--had set him to wondering what it -could mean. As he passed through the low door-way the girl sprang up -from a stool in front of an easel that stood near the middle of the -floor. Her face was burning with the flush of one surprised in an -act of the most furtive nature. Moreton paused, feeling with quick -certainty how deeply he was embarrassing her. She turned her large -eyes on him with a startled, momentary stare, and letting fall a -charcoal pencil, fairly ran out of the room, carrying with her what -appeared to be a small block of drawing paper. On the easel was an -unfinished but powerful sketch of a large pointer dog. The room was -littered with evidences of artistic and literary labor and -recreation. The walls were lined with books. In the corners stood -guns, fishing rods and other implements of sport by flood and field. -On a table was a fine microscope, a tiny crucible and a blow-pipe. A -pair of slippers sat on the broad hearth, and a sober-looking -dressing-gown lay across a chair. Evidently the Colonel was a man -who knew how to take his ease in his inn. - -Moreton passed along by the book-shelves, glancing at the titles of -the books, finding side by side the works of Stuart Mill and the -poems of Andre Chenier, the novels of George Eliot and the rhymes of -Jasmin the Troubadour, volumes of La Place, Goethe and Newton set -among the stories of Thomas Hardy and William Black, whilst the poems -of Longfellow and Tennyson and Keats were shoulder to shoulder with -the latest fictions of Zola and Daudet. Copies of magazines and -weekly literary and art journals were scattered promiscuously about -in the room. - -"The Colonel he air a outdacious quare man," said White, who had -followed Moreton into the room, "but what he don't know hit ain't -wo'th a knowin', though I can't jest see what good hit's a doin' of -him. S'pose hit's fun for 'im, mebbe, to set here a drawin' of -picters an' a writin' an' a paintin' an' all that air sort o' doin's. -But then ef he wants to, an' he pays me for the use o' my house, -hit's all proper I s'pect. Then he's all over a gentleman, the -Colonel air, a perfect gentleman, with a heart es big es a -fodder-stack." - -"Does the Colonel make this his permanent home?" inquired Moreton, -taking up a volume bound in old black leather, and glancing at its -title page, on a space of which was written in a rather small but -decidedly masculine hand, the name: John Mercer Reynolds. - -"Fur more'n six years he's been right here constant, 'ceptin' when -he'd go off for a while seein' to 'is business an' sich. Thet's 'is -name ther' wher'yer a readin' in the book. I can't read no writin', -but I know 'at hit's 'is name, though; Colonel John M. Reynolds, -haint hit?" - -Moreton made no reply; he was looking at the name in a musing way, -his brows slightly contracted. Presently he turned to White and said: - -"Where is Mr. Reynolds?" - -"The Colonel he went out a huntin' this mornin' an' he haint come -back yet. He'll be in 'fore long, a drippin' like a ash-hopper an' -es wet es a swamp," answered White. Then, after a moment's pause he -looked quizzically at Moreton and added: - -"Ye don't hev any 'quaintance of the Colonel, hev ye?" - -"I am not sure. The name is that of a friend of mine whom I have not -seen for years. Is he tall and dark with deep gray eyes and--" - -"Yes, sir, he air that kind of a man, an' he air fine-lookin' an' -handsome an' hes ben all over ever' wher' an' knows all about most -ever' thing an' ever' body. Yes, sir, that air Colonel he air a -outdacious fine man." - -"Yes, yes, he is, no doubt," Moreton responded absently, really quite -unaware of what he was saying. His memory was busy with things of -the past. Was it possible that he had thus again accidentally -stumbled upon Reynolds? Of all the men he ever had met he liked -Reynolds best. The very name had its fascination, just as something -in the man himself had its mysterious charm, disconnected from any -social, moral or intellectual attractiveness. - -"Where did Mr. Reynolds come from when he came here?" he demanded, -coming suddenly and wholly back to himself and looking at White who -had begun to move away. - -"The Colonel he kem f'm--kem f'm--f'm--I couldn't say e'zactly wher' -the Colonel kem f'm; but som'ers in furren parts, I'm sartaing of -thet." - -"Six years ago, I think you told me." - -"Yes, a leetle the rise of six. The Colonel he kem yer in Septem'er." - -"Sings well, the Colonel, does he?" - -"Sing! dern, but ye orter heer 'im, strenger. He ken beat a -meth'dis' nigger all to striffins. He air a singer for ter mek yer -hair stan', the Colonel air." - -"Plays superbly on the guitar?" - -"On the git-tar? Yer may say he does, strenger. When he plays onto -the git-tar, I calls hit a pickin' onto the git ther', and the -Colonel he ken git ther' with the bes' chunes 'at ever split the -wind, dead sartaing." - -White's sallow face betrayed, as he finished speaking, a perfect -faith in the legitimacy of his humor, and Moreton felt bound to laugh. - -At this point the girl came shyly to the door and said: - -"Pap, dinner air ready." - -Moreton could not refrain from looking boldly, even searchingly, into -that sweet, innocent, half-vacant face. He felt an obscure pang -enter his breast, as if in some way her pathetic, hopeless prettiness -accused him. She was probably sixteen, and, though rather slight, -remarkably well-formed and graceful. Her scant, coarse drapery -served to indicate more than to hide her body's curves and the -outlines of her supple limbs. It was her face, however, that had in -it the power of leaving in Moreton's memory a haunting, elusive -impression that would not go out. She did not take a seat with her -parents and their guest at the table, but filled the place of serving -maid, passing silently behind their chairs, offering the dishes of -ill-cooked coarse food and anticipating with swift movements the -needs of each. - -"Ef the Colonel wus here now," said White, poising a piece of fried -bacon between his plate and his mouth, "ye'd never git him to eat -this yere kind er victuals. Nary time, sir. He'd hev br'iled -chicken, er squir'l, an' white bread an' milk an' I don't know what -all. The Colonel he air high tony dinktom 'bout what he chaws, le' -me tell ye. He keeps a lot o' wine in 'is closet, 'an hit air -outdacious fine liquor, too." - -Moreton, whose eyes followed Milly at every fair opportunity, saw her -lean over White's chair and heard her say in a low, earnest tone: - -"Hush, Pap, John he wudn' like hit ef ye said so much 'bout his -doin's. I wush ye'd keep still 'bout him anyhow." - -It was little more than a pretense of eating with Moreton. The corn -bread, collards, sweet potatoes and fat fried bacon, which were to be -washed down with bitter coffee, did not suit his English appetite. -Then, too, he was so busy with the thought of Reynolds and so -troubled by the wistful face of this strangely beautiful mountain -girl, that even the choicest dinner might not have tempted him. - -The rain held on steadily until far along in the afternoon. Reynolds -did not come, and when Moreton saw the clouds breaking away in the -west, and heard the swash of the shower slowly sinking into a -desultory pattering on the cabin roof, he sat down at the Colonel's -desk and wrote a short note as follows: - - -"MY DEAR REYNOLDS: - -"If I am not mistaken, I have at last found you again. If I am -mistaken you will pardon my blunder. If I were perfectly sure that -you are my old friend whom I lost so easily and would give so much to -see, I would not go from this house without having heard your voice -and held your hand. I am so sure that you are the very Reynolds to -whom I owe every thing and whose friendship is the warmest spot in my -life, that I am nearly on the point of staying at a venture; but the -rain seems over, and I have a very long walk and shall go at once. I -am at the ---- Hotel in Birmingham. Won't you come to see me at -once? If you are my Reynolds you know how you will be received; if I -have blundered and you are not the friend I have so long missed, you -shall have the humble apologies of - -"EDWARD MORETON." - - -When this hasty epistle was finished, Moreton addressed it and placed -it on the table. A few minutes later the girl came into the room. -Moreton rose. - -"Will you be kind enough," he said to her, "to hand Colonel Reynolds -this letter when he comes home?" - -She looked sideways at him and blushed scarlet, but said nothing and -did not move from where she had stopped beside the door. A bright -strand of her hair had fallen forward across her shoulder and breast. - -"I shall be greatly obliged," he continued, turning the envelope -about on the table with his finger. "You will be doing me a great -favor. Colonel Reynolds is a dear friend of mine." - -Unconsciously he used a wheedling tone in speaking to her, as he -would have done in trying to coax a little child. - -She moved one hand nervously, and a pallor encroached upon the flush -in her cheeks. Her sweet, strange eyes dilated with some sudden -emotion. It may have been mere bashfulness and the embarrassment of -ignorance and timidity. She appeared so helpless, so prettily -forlorn, so innocent and sweet, and yet she seemed so vulgar, uncouth -and hopelessly shallow, withal. Moreton, despite himself, felt the -infection of her timidity and shyness and became silent. She stood -for a time as if wavering between opposing impulses, then in a sudden -and breathless way she said: - -"Does John know you? Where'd ye ever see John? He never told me -'bout ye." She was still glancing sideways at him over her shoulder, -and standing with one foot resting across the toe of the other, her -left elbow pressed against the wall. - -Moreton smiled and shook his head. - -"It was a long way off from here that I saw him. Beyond the sea, -across many countries. Ask him to tell you about Edward Moreton. He -will remember a great many things that we did. We had many -adventures together. He's a grand fellow." - -"What air a grand feller? What d'ye mean by that there?" she slowly -asked. - -"Oh, I mean a great deal, every thing that is worth meaning," said -Moreton. Then feeling that he had failed to satisfy her, he added in -a very gentle tone: "I mean that he is good and that I like him." - -She smiled, and a sudden pleasure flashed from her eyes; but her face -quickly resumed its almost stolid repose and the vague trace of -helplessness and pathetic innocence returned. - -The rain was over and Moreton got ready to go just as the sun, now -far down the west, swung free of the scattering cloud and flamed -against a space of intensely blue sky above the most distant purple -mountain peaks. - -White refused to accept any pay for the shelter and food given to -Moreton, and, carrying his practical mountain generosity still -further, he slung the brace of turkeys across his shoulder and led -the way for more than a mile, to put his guest into a path which was -the shortest route over the mountain to a highway leading into -Birmingham. The two men shook hands at parting on the highest swell -of a heavy ridge, whence they could see the little city, with its -great columns of coal-smoke and its shining white houses, lying far -below amidst the gentle undulations of the valley. A long walk yet -remained for Moreton, with no companion save the little spaniel; but -his thoughts were of such a nature that he scarcely noted how rough -and tiresome was the way. The clouds were now all gone and the sky, -as night drew on, was filled with stars that, seen through the -purified air, appeared to flame and waver like the flare of sunlight -on ice. The temperature had fallen several degrees, giving a keen -edge to the breeze which was now out of the north-west; but there -still arose from the pine woods that resinous fragrance which is a -balm for every wound that occasional inclemencies of the mountain -weather may give. The streams had subsided as suddenly as they had -risen, and all nature seemed hastening to regain that tranquil -equilibrium for which the southern winters are noted. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -MR. HAWKINS NOBLE. - -Moreton, the more he thought the matter over, grew surer and surer of -the fact that he had discovered Reynolds, his long lost friend. They -had been art students together in Paris, and had been companions in a -rather wild eastern ramble during which some quite memorable -adventures had befallen them. Finally they had separated, on account -of a mild sort of quarrel over a sweetheart, Reynolds quitting the -field most mysteriously, leaving Moreton free to press his suit, -which at the last wholly failed. It does not matter here what was -the extent or color of their disagreement, but it may be said that -there was nothing violent or tragic in it. In fact it may all be -summed up in the sentence: Reynolds disappeared; and so sudden and -secret was his going that Moreton lost him quite as effectually as if -he had died and been buried. Such a disappearance has in it an -element of tragic mystery that burns into one's memory. Moreton -really knew little of Reynolds, save that he was an American and a -Southerner, a fascinating companion, and a genial, brave, liberal -fellow. If their parting had been the ordinary one, such as must -come at length to any traveling companions, perhaps a few months -might have sufficed to obliterate all regrets connected with it. But -the peculiar circumstances under which it had come about had served -to fasten it with a rather fiery emphasis in Moreton's memory. He -remembered Reynolds as a proud, peculiarly sensitive man, given to -excess of sentiment, an extremist, running to great lengths of -self-indulgence at times, and at other times a model of temperateness -that bordered on utter self-denial. A man with a violent conscience, -prone to brood over follies and indulge gloomy regret for sins about -which most young men would unhesitatingly have made broad jokes, but -yet a man given to unlimited pleasures. In person he was of noble -proportions, quite a typical low-country Southerner, bearing in his -high-bred face an air of fearlessness and obvious pride touched to a -degree with something that suggested recklessness. He was reckless, -indeed, now and again, always, however, suffering the extremest pangs -of repentance after each lapse into excesses. - -It had seemed to surprise Reynolds in the last degree when he -discovered that Moreton had become his rival, and surprise had -quickly blazed up into furious anger. For a time it had appeared as -if there must be a fight, but before this could happen Reynolds -controlled himself and the reaction came. Moreton appeared to be -successful, and his rival, in a fit of gloom, disappeared from the -scene. It is easy to understand how Moreton would be affected by -such a turn of affairs, and when, a day or two after the events of -the preceding chapter, Reynolds appeared at the hotel in Birmingham, -the meeting was, of course, a very cordial one; for Moreton was in no -mood to allow his friend any room to doubt his sincerity. He had not -prospered with his suit after Reynolds' departure. Somehow he could -not press it with that ardor which kept his heart on fire so long as -a rival was in view. It may have been that the mystery of Reynolds' -flight cast a damper on the feelings of the young lady as well as -over his own spirit. It is even possible that in truth she preferred -the impulsive, magnetic Southerner to the rather matter-of-fact -Englishman. At all events, Moreton's wooing had languished with the -ending of the rivalry, the young lady showing a decided willingness -to have done with the affair on the shortest possible notice. - -Such things may appear to conclude very easily and naturally, to the -best satisfaction of those concerned; but usually a sting remains -with one or more of the actors that time is slow to remove. Moreton -had felt this sting from two sources. He had lost his friend, he had -lost his sweetheart. His friendship had been deep and true, his -passion for the girl had been strong, no matter if not rooted deeper -than his fancy. At one point Conscience griped Moreton with bitter -force: he had been ungrateful to Reynolds, who had not hesitated to -risk his life for him in the most desperate exigency of his quite -eventful career. And now Reynolds had added self-sacrifice to -heroism. - -So that it will be readily understood how Moreton easily fell into a -state of mind that rendered him restless and self-accusing. His -great wish that he might one day find his friend again, and in some -way make reparation for the injury done him, was tinged with such -sentimentality as the situation would naturally generate in a mind, -which though quite practical and well-balanced, was somewhat given to -visionary fancies. - -They sat down to a good dinner, and, with due appreciation of its -qualities, paused between its courses to let their conversation -lightly circle around the point of their past trouble, without coming -quite to it. Reynolds knew that Moreton was still a bachelor, he had -caught this much from his friend's manner and talk. It flashed -through his mind that, after all, he had, perhaps, done himself great -wrong and Moreton no good by acting up to a standard of duty -recognized by few men. But it was too late to consider the matter -now. It was all over and the dead past must bury its dead. Besides, -had he not long ago dashed aside the poor bauble he had once called -love! The subject could not, would not be avoided, nevertheless, and -when it had been reached and fully talked over, both felt relieved. - -"She is married," said Moreton, "and is living in Florence. Her -husband is Count somebody and she is an invalid, so I have heard." - -"I give you my word, Moreton," responded Reynolds, after a moment's -silence, "that I am sincerely glad she is married, and quite sorry -that she has lost her superb health. Suppose we dismiss her forever -from our minds and our lives." - -"Done!" cried Moreton almost jocularly, extending his hand. "I have -been deuced near proposing that for the last half hour. It takes a -load off my breast and a cloud off my mind. Here's to a clear -future, old fellow!" - -He filled their glasses and they drank in a genial if not a jovial -mood. It was a light way in which to dispose of so weighty a matter -as this had once been considered by them; but then it is the tricksy -summer breath that tranquilizes the sea after the tropic storm. They -were both glad to unburden themselves of certain troublesome doubts -as to the genuineness of the passion each had professed. This done, -that episode in their lives seemed to remove itself to a vast -distance in the dim past, so they fancied, and they dismissed it as a -departed illusion of their youth. Moreton looked at his friend with -more than the old admiration. Indeed Reynolds was a man of superb -physique and his face was one to win men and charm women. With all -his health and strength and what might be called weather-stain, there -was in his dark gray eyes and in his low, rich voice, a suggestion of -that nonchalance and indolence which have always been characteristic -of the highest type of Southerners. Nearly six feet in stature, -square shouldered, slender, compact, every inch an athlete, he gave -one an idea of strength, both physical and mental, which needed to be -roused into action. - -"I think it deuced strange, don't you know, that I should have -stumbled into your den here in the mountains," said Moreton. "It is -like romance. They put such things in novels." - -"It was a clever turn of luck," lightly responded Reynolds, "or, -perhaps I should say fate. No doubt it is ordered that you and I -shall yet work out together some subtle decree of Providence. After -all, incidents and events do not come of haphazard." - -"I never philosophize, you know," said Moreton. "I am never -expecting any thing save the very thing I am looking and striving -for. I was turkey hunting when I found your outlandish cabin. What -the deuce are you doing over there?" - -"That is a hard question. I have spent some delightfully quiet, -uneventful years in that house. I find good shooting at times, the -air is pure and sweet, the water is excellent, the retirement is -perfect." Reynolds paused for a time and then continued: "Oh well, I -had grown tired of wandering and rather disgusted with the world in -general and I fancied I should enjoy being a hermit for a while. I -tried it and found it charming." - -Moreton thought he detected evidence in his friend's manner of a -reserve of some stronger reasons for thus hiding himself away from -the world; but he took the explanation without further question. - -"That's a pretty lass of White's," Moreton said, after the -conversation had rambled over such parts of Reynolds' life for the -past few years as he cared to lay bare. "Her sweet, solemn, smiling, -troubled face has haunted me ever since I saw her." - -Reynolds laughed. - -"Don't make too much fun of the poor little thing," he said, -half-seriously, half lightly. "Hers is a vacant lot. She is as -scentless and colorless as she is cramped and undeveloped. I can't -imagine what she was made for." - -"But what a form and what a haunting, hungry, sweet face she has!" - -Reynolds looked with a sudden surprise into Moreton's eyes, his own -dilating. Presently he laughed again. - -"I do believe you are in earnest," he exclaimed, in a tone at once -deprecatory and querulous, "for you couldn't have the heart, even at -this distance, to ridicule the unfortunate little creature. In this -region the poor whites are all deplorably ignorant and queer; but -she--she is a pathetic cipher, poor thing." - -"Physically she is perfect," insisted Moreton. "Can it be possible -that you, a poet and artist, have all these years overlooked, -ignored, waived aside such a model? I tell you, Reynolds, she's a -genuine wood nymph, don't you know, a dryad whom the satyrs have -scared out of her wits. I never saw such eyes, such lips and----" - -"Oh come now," said Reynolds, "I am not going to listen to such -nonsense. Besides, it strikes me as next to brutal to think of -discussing the charms of an arid, dull, ugly little cracker -girl----well no, not a cracker, either, a Sandlapper is the local -phrase. The fact that such girls exist and must become women and be -mothers of like beings, is to me a subject that it is a virtue to -shun. On such a theme seriousness is disheartening, levity is -diabolical." - -"Every thing _au sérieux_, as of old!" exclaimed Moreton, "you -bewildering old philanthropist! I am too happy to quarrel with you -now. Wait till the newness of having discovered your hiding place -has somewhat rubbed off and I'll give you punch for punch with a -will. But I do say, in all candor, that I never was so struck with -any bit of wild beauty as I was with that queer, solemn-eyed girl of -White's. She might make any painter's fortune as a Daphne or----" - -Reynolds interrupted him: - -"It is only once in a century or two," he said, "that the world's -intermittent sentiment will permit a Millet or a Burns to cast the -glamor of genius over the stolid ugliness and the immitigable -emptiness of peasant life. As for me, I have no sympathy with it -from the standpoint of art. There is no artistic alchemy that can -make a sow's ear fine or beautiful. Those who undertake to idealize -ignorance, stupidity and coarseness are worse than such realists as -Zola, because they willfully deceive those whom they succeed in -interesting." - -"Go on, wade out, you know I can't follow you," exclaimed Moreton. -"I love the shallow places, the soft sweet edges of all sorts of -streams; but I'll bet five to one on you for touching bottom at all -points and without weights!" - -Reynolds laughed and waved aside the wine his friend offered. - -At this moment a portly gentleman, wearing a bland smile between his -iron-gray mutton-chop whiskers, and a vast gold seal below his vest, -approached Moreton from another part of the large dining room. This -was Mr. Hawkins Noble, a person of importance in Birmingham, a banker -in fact, whose money and financial sagacity had given to that -prosperous little city the larger part of its vim and activity. It -was to be seen at a glance that he was what some one has aptly and -inelegantly phrased as a "big fish in a little puddle." He was a New -Yorker, and his connection with a great banking house in the -metropolis had followed him to Birmingham with the effect of a -separate atmosphere circulating close about his stout figure. There -was in his movements a celerity quite out of keeping with his heavy -limbs and rotund body, and his small blue eyes had a twinkle which -was a compromise between the glint of ice and the genial reflection -from a June sky. He rubbed his hands together as he came near the -table. - -"Hello, Moreton," he exclaimed, with the intonation of one speaking -at a telephone, "pardon me for interrupting you, but I have a matter -of importance. Oh, keep your seat," he hastily added, as Moreton -made a movement to rise, "it's nothing in the slightest private, only -an urgent invitation for you to join me in a most delightful bit of -field sport. General DeKay, who owns a grand plantation and quail -preserve below here, has sent me word to collect a party of gentlemen -and bring them next week for a few days' shooting. How does that -strike you?" - -"It strikes me deuced hard," answered Moreton. "Don't you know I -never did refuse a thing like that, never." - -Mr. Noble laughed. He looked like a man who thoroughly enjoyed -laughing for the sake of the general shaking up it gave him. -Reynolds could not help wondering how this rather over-corpulent old -gentleman could ever manage to get much comfort out of active field -sports. - -"It's bound to be a most delightful affair," continued Mr. Noble. -"The General has some fine dogs, I shall take mine, you yours: now -where can I find one or two more good fellows who are up to such -music?" - -Moreton rose. - -"Allow me, Mr. Noble, to present my friend, Colonel Reynolds, who is -a most enthusiastic sportsman and who has a choice kennel." - -The banker reached for Reynolds' hand with a readiness and swiftness -which, though incomparable, had no appearance of undue haste. It was -merely indicative of a nimbleness and a promptness for which in all -his affairs Mr. Noble was noted. His mind and body acted together on -the instant and on the slightest call. - -"An enthusiastic sportsman," he said, "is a man after my own -heart-pattern. I am glad of your acquaintance, Colonel Reynolds. -May I book you and your choicest dogs for the shooting? Don't say -no, for we shall have a grand time of it." - -"Why, I thank you, indeed, sir, but I can hardly say whether----" - -"Come, now, Reynolds," interposed Moreton, "I can't go without you, -you know, and you mustn't refuse. I fancy I can see the dogs down to -a point now and the birds whirring up from the cover. It makes my -blood tingle to think of it!" - -"Allow me also to insist," added Mr. Noble with a nimble bow and -genial smile. "I can vouch for the sport, as also for General -DeKay's cordial hospitality. He has a large preserve, which he has -been at great pains to stock, and he insists upon my bringing a -little army down to shoot with him over his grounds." - -Reynolds saw no way out of it; in fact he quickly felt the -fascination of the proposed sport taking hold of him. He had been -shut up in the mountains for so long that the thought of a few days -with jovial companions in the open fields of the low country was like -a fragrant breath from the past. - -"It is very kind of you, Mr. Noble," he at length said, "and if I -can, in your opinion, add any thing to the success of your very -attractive plan, I ought not to refuse, especially as I am hungry for -a genuine old-fashioned day with the quails." - -"Good!" exclaimed the banker, again darting his soft white hand -towards Reynolds, "I am delighted. I am off now on some pressing -business; shall be glad to give you and Mr. Moreton further details -of our project in due time. Shall hope to have you both at my house -to dine before we are off for General DeKay's." - -He bowed with amazing suppleness and walked swiftly from the room. -He left behind him, so to speak, lingering in the air, a suggestion -of irrepressible alertness, outrightness and vim. - -"There's an old boy for you," said Moreton, resuming his seat at the -table and motioning Reynolds to do likewise. "I have never seen -another at all like him. Make a friend of him, and there's no end to -the good he will do you. There's not a doubt that he left urgent -business to come here and get me into his party. I'm delighted that -you were here, don't you know, for we'll have a rare lark. General -DeKay is one of your fine old-time Southern planters, I'm told, whose -hospitality is as broad as his fields." - -"I'm a fool for consenting to join you," Reynolds bluntly exclaimed, -"but I am committed to the folly and must make the most of it." - -"Since when have you come to consider a day or so behind the dogs in -good quail cover a folly?" said Moreton, with a ring of good-humored -resentment in his voice. - -"You misconstrue me," replied Reynolds, "I shrink from the other -feature of the affair. I am out of society for good and all. I fear -there will be more women than dogs and quail." - -Moreton laughed as a vision of Mr. Noble's charming daughter arose in -his mind. She at least would be one of the party. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -WHITE PLAYS "SEVING UP." - -Reynolds spent the next few days with Moreton, and, before he was -fully aware of it, he had accepted an invitation to dine at Mr. -Noble's house, where he would meet "two or three charming friends," -as the banker had declared, "without the least formality in the -world." - -The weather had taken a delightful change, the wind shifting to the -south and bringing from the Gulf of Mexico, over the vast extent of -pine woods, a summer balminess and pungency. The sky, without a -cloud, blue and dreamy bent above the gray-green hills with a Sabbath -purity that made every aspect of the landscape surrounding the little -city one of sweet guardianship and secure repose, quite at variance -with certain social conditions which rendered a considerable portion -of the city's populace at times turbulent and dangerous. Many miners -and operatives in the vast iron works had fallen into the habit of -coming together, at such hours as they were unemployed, in the -gaudily tinseled liquor saloons and gambling dens with which certain -streets were liberally supplied. Here they would meet the -quiet-mannered but impetuous and bellicose mountaineers, with whom -they quarreled and fought, sometimes with fatal results. - -On an evening a day or two prior to the time set for the dinner at -Mr. Noble's, Moreton had a little adventure. It chanced that some -business with a foreman of one of his iron establishments had kept -him until some time after dark in the office of the latter. In going -back to his hotel he took a short route which led him through one of -the worst streets in the city. Passing by the brilliantly lighted -dens he could hear the clink of glasses and the boisterous voices of -the drinkers and hangers-on. Once or twice he was forced to leave -the side-walk in order to avoid groups of wrangling fellows who -appeared on the point of going into a free-for-all fight. It was -while making his way around one of these clumps of would-be rioters -that a voice of peculiarly familiar accent reached his ear. It was a -high tenor, drawling as follows: - -"Hit air my bottom erpinion 'at I ken whirp out the last dad-burned -one uf ye, an' 'en not dull the p'int uf this air ole frog-sticker -nuther." - -"Well, why don't ye do it? Talk's talk, but doin' it is another -thing intirely," retorted a heavier voice with just a trace of Irish -in it. - -"Hit ain't fur me to go to cuttin' uf ye, ef ye keeps off'n me; but -I'll jest be b'iled up an' chawed over ef I don't let yer back bone -out in front uf ye, ef ye starts onto me. An' now ye've hearn me," -was the tenor's quick response. - -Moreton stopped short and glanced sharply into the midst of the -group. There was White with a long knife in one hand and a heavy -stone in the other, his wizened face and sunken eyes full of defiance -and his gaunt frame rigid but ready for desperate action. - -"Kem on, ye sneakin' keerd-shufflers, an' I'll jest cut ye inter -striffins," he continued; "this here knife hit air a eetchin' fur yer -livers an' lights, hit air!" - -Just then a pistol gleamed in the hand of the man nearest Moreton, -and the clear, keen click of the lock was sharply audible. It was a -slender, but very dangerous sound. - -"Make shore fire with yer shootin-iron," White added quickly, his -voice rising into a thin falsetto, "fur ef ye don't hit air good-by -ter you, hit air!" As he spoke he prepared to rush forward. - -On the instant there would have been deadly work, had not Moreton -interfered. - -"Here! what does this mean?" he exclaimed in a loud, authoritative -way, stepping boldly into the midst of the men. - -His commanding figure, cool bearing and patrician dress wrought an -effect of which the sturdiest policeman might well have been proud. -"Come with me, Mr. White," he continued, "and you fellows had better -get to your homes in quick time." - -He did not pause or hesitate, but took White by the arm with a strong -grip and led him away. No doubt the very suddenness and boldness of -Moreton's action had much to do with the success of his endeavor to -befriend White, but it is quite probable that the respect for -superior manners, dress and personal appearance, which underlies the -gross democracy of the mob, did more. White himself would have -resented, with all a mountaineer's well-fostered stubbornness, any -man's interference with his luxury of a fight, had that man been, -though his best friend, one of his own or a similar class. But he -promptly recognized Moreton as both his friend and superior and so -allowed himself to be hurried away, the young man's grip on his arm -reminding him of a physical force fully proportioned to Moreton's -rather massive stature. They soon reached a street where no further -danger need be feared, and here Moreton, releasing White's arm, said: - -"What sort of a beastly trouble is this you have been getting into? -What was all that quarrel about?" - -"Pa'cel o' them air dad burned gam'lers a rowin' wi' me," replied -White, rather doggedly, closing his knife and putting it into his -pocket. - -"Fleeced you, I suppose; won all your money. Better let them alone, -they'll always beat you," said Moreton, his voice very naturally -taking on an advisory and cautionary ring. - -"Yer calc'late ruther short, jest ther', Mr. Moreting (b'lieve thet -air's yer name), fur I hev four dollars uf them same fellers' good -money inter my jeens right now," White answered, with a chuckle of -profound satisfaction. "Wen ye serpose 'at any uf them air gam'lers -ken beat me a playin' uf seving up, w'y then ye air a foolin' yerself -outdacious. Es fur them tother games, I don't know much 'bout 'em, -but seving up hit air my game, jest to a dot, an' I do s'prise some -uf 'em outdacious a playin' uf that air small game." - -"Are you going out to your home to-night?" inquired Moreton. - -"Yes, an' I s'pect 'at them air weemin'll be outdacious oneasy 'bout -me, too, fur I promersed 'em 'at I'd be back by dinner time o' day, -when I left 'em this mornin'," said White, rather dolefully. - -After a moment of silence, he added in a hesitating way: - -"Hev ye seen any thing uf the Colonel fur the last day er two? We've -been kinder sorty oneasy 'bout him, too. Milly she say 'at she most -knows 'at he air gone fur good an' 'at he ain't a comin' back no -more. But then I think he air." - -"Oh, Mr. Reynolds is here with me, don't you know, at my hotel. He's -all right," said Moreton. "I hope your wife and daughter are well. -Please give them my regards. They were so kind to me that day I -staid in your house." - -"Them's outdacious good weemin o' mine, Mr. Moreting, 'specially -Milly, she air a gal 'at's all wool an' a yard wide, to a dead -sartinty, she air," was the reply. - -Moreton was not well enough versed in the mountain lingo to catch the -full force of White's realistic comparison, but he understood that it -was meant to express admiration and affection of a very touching -sort, and immediately there arose in his mind a vision of Milly, as -she had stood by the door that day, with one foot on the other and -her solemnly innocent face half averted. - -The two men walked on together to a point where they must separate if -White went home. - -"I hev ter go down this here street ef I want er git ter my lay-out," -said the mountaineer, stopping. "I er much erbleeged to ye fur what -ye've done." - -Prompted by some impulse quite foreign to his English nature, Moreton -held out his hand and said: - -"Don't forget to give my kindest regards to your wife and daughter." - -"Sarting, sarting," exclaimed White, "I'll do thet air." He took -Moreton's hand with a hearty grasp, but stood as if faltering and -hesitating. "Hit air kinder foolish, but I wanter ask ye ter see ef -ye can't git the Colonel to kem home poorty soon. Sorter seems like -things don't June roun' jest right ef he ain't ther'." Somewhere -between his words there was a half-expressed meaning that seemed to -reach and yet baffle and elude Moreton's understanding. "Ye needn' -mind er sayin' 'at ther's trouble 'bout 'im er nothin'," continued -White, "but jest kinder git 'im ter kem home like. Milly she hain't -stout, no how." There was a tender tremor in his voice as he spoke -the concluding words. - -Moreton assured him that Reynolds would come home within a few days, -and they parted. - -White had been drinking some, but not enough to intoxicate him beyond -a certain loosening of the tongue and a breaking of that crust of -half-comical reserve which usually covers the Sand Mountain man. -What he had said had affected Moreton peculiarly. As he slowly -walked to the hotel "Milly she hain't stout, no how," kept ringing in -the young man's mind, as some verse of a foolish song might have -done, with an appealing, shadowy sort of sadness in it. He was far -from being sentimental, he had never taken any interest in people -socially much lower than himself, he had even been suspected of mild -brutality in his feelings towards women of the lower classes, not -because the brutality did really exist, but on account of his utter -lack of sympathy with ignorance and ugliness; and now he was frankly -acknowledging to himself that Milly White had touched a very -sensitive chord in his nature. In some mysterious way he was -actually sympathizing with her, as if in an elusive and nameless -trouble. The feeling was not a deep or pervading one: it was, -indeed, very slight, a mere breath, so to speak, barely rippling the -surface of his consciousness, but it was so new and unique that it -made itself distinctly and immediately separable in quality from all -his past experiences. If the question had been put to him: Why do -you think of Milly White--what is the basis of your interest in her? -He would have answered: I have no interest in her--I think of her -simply because her strangely sweet and yearning face stays in my -memory and will not be cast out: there was an appeal in her eyes so -mysteriously affecting. - -White went afoot over the hills to his home, following the -meanderings of a narrow, rugged road. He was not happy, though he -sang nasal snatches of camp-meeting or revival songs as he trudged -along. He had a sense of the unworthiness of his day's occupation -that the jingle of the four dollars in his pocket could not -neutralize. When he reached the rude gate in front of his cabin he -encountered Milly. She was leaning against one of the low posts, her -head bare and her face showing over-pale in the star-light. - -"Hello, Milly!" he gently exclaimed. "Hain't ye gone ter bed yet?" - -She unlatched the gate for him without speaking. He passed through -and took her by the arm. - -"He air down yer in town, Milly, down yer wi' the man 'at stopped in -outen the rain thet air day," he almost whispered. "He air all right -he air comin' home to-morrer er nex' day." - -"I wush he would come," she murmured, and followed her father into -the cabin. - -Meantime Moreton went to his hotel, where he met Reynolds, to whom he -gave the details of his street adventure. - -Reynolds' face darkened a little. - -"I wish I could have seen White," he said, in a tone that hinted of -vexation. "I suspect that he has taken advantage of my absence by -going on a spree. Are you sure he went directly home?" - -"He said he was going, he went in that direction," Moreton answered. -"He was inquiring about you, and I told him you were in my care and -quite safe." - -Reynolds laughed. - -"Did he say that his _weemin_, as he calls them, were uneasy about -me?" - -"Something of the sort, I believe, but I gave him satisfactory -assurance. He'll report you all right." - -Reynolds laughed again, a laugh that left Moreton in some sort of -doubt. It was a laugh that seemed to be tinged with contempt, or -bitterness, or some other element quite foreign to any amused or -pleasant state of mind. - -"He told me in all seriousness," Moreton deliberately but lightly -added, "that his daughter believed you would never come back." - -"Yes," said Reynolds, "she always imagines some such thing when I am -away. She's a queer little simpleton, but I owe a good deal to her -and her mother. On that account I overlook a great many little -annoyances they cause me." - -They went in to supper and the conversation turned to a discussion of -the preparations for General DeKay's shooting party. But all the -time Moreton's mind kept returning to the mystery which he now felt -was hovering about his friend's life, a mystery he dared not attempt -to solve. It was plain to him that Reynolds had a secret which this -lonely life in the mountains was intended to hide from the world. It -is not difficult to discover that one's friend is not opening his -whole heart to one, when such is the fact. The reserve of some heavy -sorrow, or regret, or remorse may be carefully concealed, but its -very concealment is disclosed by the sealed chamber whose door would, -we know, be flung wide open, but for the skeleton within. A slight -evasion, now and then, of certain careless questions, little hints -inadvertently let fall in moments of apparent abstraction, certain -abrupt changes of the drift of his talk when the subject was his own -experiences, gave to Reynolds' conversation a quality which, to a -nature like Moreton's, was as tantalizing as it was suggestive of -some hidden trouble. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -SOME LIGHT TALK. - -Mr. Noble's house in Birmingham was one of our ugly brick-red -American cottages, with many sharp points to its roof, many slender -chimneys, a profusion of bay windows and plate glass, and an air of -band-box newness, suggestive of fresh paint and scarcely dry -plastering. It stood on a slight knoll overlooking a quiet part of -the little city, and commanding a view of the mountains in every -direction, as well as of the broken picturesque valley. Its ample -lawn, shaded by a few native trees, had been set with grass, as if in -defiance of Southern custom, and the broad walks were not flanked -with the conventional parallel rows of shrubs and flowers so dear to -the heart of the old-time Southerner. - -As Moreton and Reynolds passed through the low iron gate in front of -this house, on the evening of Mr. Noble's dinner, they paused just -inside the inclosure, and turned about to take a view of the -surrounding landscape. The horizon in every direction was broken by -irregular lines of blue hills and mountains, the higher peaks sharply -defined against a soft crepuscular sky, whilst the lower ones, seen -through the thin gray smoke of the valley, were scarcely -distinguishable from the fragmentary clouds floating lazily in the -furthest distance. A gentle breeze, running northward, with just an -audible ripple, had in it, along with its mountain freshness and -purity, a dreamy, languor-breeding influence, suggestive of those -palm-studded islands and warm seas a little further south. Overhead -the sky was as blue and soft as that of Lombardy, and set with -fervid, flaring stars. - -"This strikes me as very near the ideal climate, don't you know, a -golden mean between the indolent, dreamy South and the restless, -over-realistic North," said Moreton, taking in a deep draught of the -sweet, stimulating air. - -"The air is pure and wholesome," said Reynolds, "but the scenery is -hopelessly monotonous and uninspiring. Six years of it will dry your -enthusiasm down to the impalpable dust of dreams. I fear I have had -too much of it." - -"No doubt you have," Moreton bluntly responded, "considering your way -of taking it, crooning over there in that remote cabin, aloof from -every genuine human influence, morbidly browsing the weeds of your -own conscience." His tone was light and chaffing, but Reynolds, as -if cut by some hidden meaning of the words, started a little, then, -catching his friend's humor, said: - -"Well, let's go into this palace of pleasure and perhaps I may there -get my conscience purified in the light of--" - - "The light of her eyes - And the dew of her lips, - Where the moth never flies - And the bee never sips,"-- - -Moreton hummed, taking his friend's arm and moving toward the house. -The windows gave forth long streams of light, and a subdued sound of -voices came from within the brilliant rooms. To the somewhat rusted -taste of Reynolds there came, along with the gleam of chandeliers and -the polite murmur, a little thrill, as if he were about to re-enter a -long-abandoned but much loved atmosphere. Already the old -fascination was returning. He saw through an open window the flutter -of fans and the gleam of white throats, laces and pearls. For a -single instant all the charms of young womanhood gayly but modestly -attired, ready for its half-shy, half-daring little assaults upon the -masculine heart, burst upon him. As a drunkard, after a long -abstinence, feels his whole nature change at the first sip of wine, -Reynolds was at once borne off his guard, and for the instant all the -period of his mountain seclusion disappeared. It was as if his gay, -almost dissolute life had never been arrested. Some one struck a few -rapid chords from a grand piano and then followed some airy popular -song. - -"Why the house is full," said Moreton in an undertone, as they -mounted the broad steps to the hall door. "Mr. Noble has exceedingly -liberal views on the subject of 'a few friends.' We are going to see -the _elite_ of Montgomery as well as the _bon ton_ of Birmingham, if -I guess correctly." - -Reynolds made no response. He paused on the threshold and stood for -a moment in a faltering attitude. But for the presence of Moreton, -he would have turned away and retraced his steps to the hotel, or, -more likely, to his cabin in the mountains. One who for years has -been entirely beyond the outmost pale of polite society, is apt to -feel this trepidation, when on the point of re-entering the charmed -circle. - -The company was not so large as Moreton had imagined. The evening -was warm enough to admit of open windows, hence the sound of voices -had the more easily reached the outside. Fifteen or twenty persons, -mostly young, were scattered throughout a row of elaborate rooms, now -made into one by means of folding doors and movable curtains. Mr. -Noble, if possible more supple and elastic than ever before, and Mrs. -Noble, a tall woman, dressed in elegant taste, greeted Moreton and -Reynolds with admirable ease and cordiality. The company was so -small that the arrival of two new guests was at once known to all. -Moreton glanced about, seeing many faces that he knew, but Reynolds -felt himself a stranger to all. His tall, erect figure, bronzed face -and graceful bearing attracted the furtive glances of more than one -woman present. Moreton, in bowing low over Mrs. Noble's hand, had -managed to say to her unheard by any one else: "Mr. Reynolds, my -friend here, is a misanthrope and has long been out of society. You -will do me the greatest of favors if you will make him the especial -object of your gracious attention this evening." - -"Certainly," she answered, in a very sweet and low voice, "you shall -see how readily I grant your every request, Mr. Moreton. Leave your -friend to me." - -She kept her promise with scrupulous fidelity, and Reynolds found -himself drawn into the midst of a charming circle, where, for a time, -all memory of the past few years was drowned in the music of gentle -voices. - -Miss Cordelia Noble, the banker's daughter, with whom he presently -found himself in conversation, was a merry-eyed, ruby-lipped blonde, -as supple and ready as her father and at need as dignified and -gracious as her mother. She had just returned with her aunt from New -York and talked in a most charming way of the opening of the social -season there, of the parties, the opera, the art exhibitions and all -the other features of importance to fashionable folk in the -metropolis. Her voice was a sincere, honest, girlish one, and her -sayings were spiced with those little grotesqueries of thought and -phrasing which stay with a bright girl for a while after her -so-called school days are over. Reynolds had not dreamed of how -hungry he really was for even this slight sort of social food, and it -was well for him that he did not suspect that, before the dinner was -half over, he had become, by force of tacit consent amongst all -present, the center of the evening's interest. - -Moreton was delighted. He had determined to win his friend back from -his hermit's life, no matter what might have been in the first place -the secret reason for his retirement to such an outlandish den as the -mountaineer's cabin. - -"My father has told me that you are to be one of the party going with -him to General DeKay's," Miss Noble said to Reynolds. - -"Yes," he answered, "and I expect a most delightful time. I hope you -are going too?" - -"Yes, I could not afford to let such an opportunity pass. I have -always greatly desired to see something of field sports. I dote on -dogs, and I really believe I should like to shoot, and ride after the -hounds in a real fox-chase." - -"I am glad you are going," he said. "Your enthusiasm will be a great -help when birds are scarce or when we shoot poorly. Will there be -other ladies?" - -"Oh, quite a number, I dare say. There will be one, at least, the -dearest, charmingest woman that ever lived. Mrs. Ransom, a widow, -but lovely, fascinating, every thing, indeed, that's sweet and -interesting. She was married only a few months when her husband -died--he was killed in a duel or something romantic, several years -ago--and she looks like a mere girl now." - -Miss Noble was looking directly into Reynolds' face, as she delivered -this girlish speech, and she saw something like a shadow flit across -his brow and eyes, as if her words had caused him annoyance, but it -passed away instantly. - -"If you really are fond of dogs," he said, "I shall be proud to show -you mine. I fancy I have two that can not be matched in the whole -world." - -"What sort are they?" she inquired with immediate interest. "You see -my father has made me quite a connoisseur; I am away up in -dog-knowledge." She held up a little plump hand to show how high her -attainments soared. - -"Are they pointers, setters or droppers?" - -Reynolds laughed. Her outright earnestness of interest in such a -subject amused him, whilst it also made him feel justified in -pursuing the theme, always a pleasant one to a genuine sportsman. - -"One is a pointer, the other a setter," he answered. - -"And do they work well together? Do they understand each other's -movements, back each other, and all that?" she inquired. - -"In the most perfect way imaginable. They are like perfectly drilled -soldiers, their minds seem to keep pace exactly." - -"Oh, isn't it the most beautiful sight! I know it must be. My -father has described it to me so often and I am so anxious to see -something of it. I don't know why I shouldn't, do you? Mamma rather -objects--talks of cruelty to birds, and sneers in her sweet way, at -the idea of a young lady caring for field sports. Do you see any -wrong in it? I really think I should like to have a gun." - -"When I was in India I saw a young lady shoot at a tiger," said -Reynolds, "but she missed it." - -"And ever since you have kept the incident in mind as proof positive -of the modern woman's inefficiency in the field of Diana," she -quickly replied. - -"Not altogether," he said; "Diana's field was so broad." But Miss -Noble was not scholar enough to feel the point of his meaning. She -was ready enough, however, and responded: - -"Oh, yes, the whole blue heaven to sail across; I had forgotten that -her glory, after all, was mostly moonshine." - -"We poor men have been unable to forget it since the dreadful fate of -Acteon and the drowsy experience of Endymion; but if you will promise -not to turn the weapon against me I shall be glad to let you try a -beautiful little English twenty-gauge gun of mine when we find the -game." - -"How good of you," she exclaimed delightedly; "it will be charming. -Don't tell mamma, she would ridicule me out of it." - -"Never; I shall die with the secret, if need be. I would not miss -seeing you fire your first shot for any thing." - -"Now there," she exclaimed, "you can't quite be fair; there was -something in your voice that suggested a lack of confidence in my -nerve and ability, I shan't shut my eyes and dodge and--and--squeak." - -"Of course not," said Reynolds, "I shall expect nothing of the kind. -You will kill your bird handsomely, and I shall applaud you and give -you _encore_ and----" - -"If you are going to make fun of me, I shall stay at home," she -exclaimed with spirit. "I'm in earnest. I really wish to know how -to shoot." - -Reynolds' eyes involuntarily ran over the outlines of the girl's fine -form and rested for a moment on her animated face. She was indeed in -earnest, and she looked a perfect model for a Diana, so far as -strength and symmetry went. True her bright, vivacious American face -had nothing of the straight-cut Grecian severity of beauty, but it -was a brave, self-reliant, earnest face, tinged with healthy blood -and beaming with the spirit of girlish enterprise. It needed but a -look into her eyes for one to know that she was as pure as a violet, -with the charm of an infinite capacity for love hovering like a -separate atmosphere about her. She was a woman in nothing but -physique. Girlhood of the freshest and charmingest sort was apparent -in all that she said and did. Reynolds felt her sweet, breeze-like -influence pass over him with the effect of a rare fragrance. He gave -himself up wholly to her mood. It was like romping in a furtive way, -this light, free prattle with one so young, so frank, so childlike -and so beautiful. - -"Why, if you wish to shoot you shall," he said with smiling -earnestness. "I should be glad to show you how. It's quite easy to -learn. There's nothing difficult or objectionable in it." - -"Oh, do you really mean it? Do you think it quite----proper? I -never could see any real impropriety, and somehow I have fancied that -I have a genuine passion for it. Perhaps I shall not like it after I -have tried it--but, yes I shall, I know I shall. Don't you think so?" - -She had a way of opening her eyes wide, as a child does, when asking -a question, and she looked straight into his with a simple -fearlessness that was far removed from boldness. - -"I think you would like any thing that--that--you ought to like," he -said. - -"I do not like that," she replied naïvely; "it has the ring of -flattery. Why do men always do that? Do they think we like it?" - -"I don't think you do," he responded, laughing and opening his eyes a -little wider in turn. "I really didn't mean flattery, however: I -meant to say that you are constituted to enjoy real, rational -pastimes and recreations, that you have healthy, natural tastes. -That is not flattery, I hope." - -"You put it in the least objectionable shape, to say the least," she -replied, "and I am willing to compromise, remembering your promise -about the gun. I have an ambition that I will confide to you." She -leaned toward him a little and added: "When I go to Newport next -summer I want to be able to tell my friends about shooting quails in -Alabama. It will be so much better than their poor mockery of -fox-chasing--that's absurd." - -"Ah, I begin to understand," said Reynolds. "You may count on me to -aid you in every possible way. You shall have most interesting and -realistic experiences to relate at the seaside, if you will let me be -your guide and teacher. I beg to be your abettor-in-chief." - -Mrs. Noble and Moreton approached, just at this point, and the -subject was dropped. In fact Moreton at once drew Miss Cordelia away -to some other part of the house, and managed to be near her for the -rest of the evening. But the girl left with Reynolds something that -lingered, diffusing itself throughout his consciousness, with the -effect of a mildly exhilarating potion. Strangely enough, the words -of Moreton's little song: - - "The light of her eyes - And the dew of her lips, - Where the moth never flies - And the bee never sips," - -had all the evening been tinkling in his ears. Not that Miss Noble -had troubled him in the least with any thing like love at first -sight. She was not a girl for him to fall in love with; but her -gentle, earnest voice, her grace of person and manner, and her -half-girlish, half-womanly independence of speech had touched him and -quickened in him germs of sympathy he had thought long since dead. -He felt old dry wells of feeling bubbling afresh. He was gently -moved as if by a subtle change within him. Mrs. Noble found him with -this mood upon him, and it lent to his talk its freshness and -fascination. She was charmed, and when she was told that for the -past six years he had scarcely left the cabin over in the mountains, -the touch of mystery did not lessen her interest in him. - -Moreton, without thought of what sympathy he might arouse by his -peculiarly graphic manner of presenting the subject, described to -Miss Cordelia the wild, strange prettiness of Milly White and the -pathetic ignorance in which her whole nature seemed steeped. - -"Why, how romantic!" she exclaimed, "she must be interesting. She -ought to be taught. There may be something well worth developing -behind those wonderful, mysterious eyes of that girl." - -Cordelia's school days were not yet so far in the past that she had -got rid of certain academical theories. She still reveled in the -belief that education might make a king of a frog. - -"If she could be taught," said Moreton, in a reflective way; "but I -suppose such a thing is impossible. She comes of such vulgar -ancestry, ignorance and stupidity are her heritage, don't you know, -and she probably has no capacity. Her limitations are set and -nothing can broaden them, I fear. But her beauty, if it may be -called by that name, is certainly remarkable. I have never seen a -more perfect form--petite, lithe as a leopard's and as graceful as a -fawn's, and her face has something in it so appealingly and so -hopelessly sweet and pure. But then such vacancy, such hideous -ignorance." - -Cordelia grew interested. Her vivid imagination took quick and -strong hold on his sketch of this mountain girl, filling in with its -own lines and coloring the spaces he had left. - -"Why hasn't Mr. Reynolds taught her?" she exclaimed, with just a -trace of deprecation in her voice. "He has been over there so long, -living in the same house. It's a shame that he has not directed her -mind so as to awaken some----" she stopped short and a little color -flushed her cheeks. - -"Oh, Reynolds sees nothing of her fine points," Moreton hastened to -say without choice of words. "He's a Southerner, don't you know, and -considers her poor white trash--that's the phrase here. He thinks it -absurd that a gentleman should look at such a girl long enough to -form any opinion as to the question of her beauty." - -The conversation was broken in upon and ended at this point by some -trivial turn of the evening's happenings, and soon after Reynolds and -Moreton took their leave. - -They walked toward the hotel, each silently revolving in his mind -that part of his experience at the banker's house which had chanced -to most deeply impress him. Reynolds, in fact, was scarcely -conscious of his companion's presence, so full was he of many other -indeterminate but wholly pleasing plans for making Miss Noble happy -with his dogs and gun when they should meet at General DeKay's -plantation. Moreton had lighted a cigarette and pulled his hat down -over his eyes. - -"This girl of White's--how old is she, Reynolds?" he presently -inquired, in a tone so abrupt that his companion looked up as if -startled. "She's scarcely a woman yet, is she?" - -Reynolds did not answer promptly, but kept his eyes on Moreton's face -while they walked two or three paces. - -"Oh, the devil, what do I know or care about her?" he at length said. -"You'd better go out and interview her. She seems to have tangled -your fancy." The words look brutal, but his voice and manner were -merely indifferent and light, with a touch of good-humored raillery. - -"She does stay in my head somehow," Moreton frankly replied. "And I -confess that it amazes me to know that you have never discovered what -deuced physical perfection she has. You needn't try to make me -believe in your obtuseness, however: I know you too well, don't you -know." - -Reynolds laughed, and laying his hand on Moreton's arm, said: - -"You have happened to see her at some exceptional angle and with an -artist's eye. Poor little thing, it is a small measure that fills -her life. Hers is a hopeless lot. Let's choose a better subject. -Now there's Miss Noble." - -Moreton did not respond promptly, but looked rather searchingly at -his friend. He almost resented the democratic freedom that linked so -readily and intimately the names of Milly White and Cordelia Noble. -Presently he said: - -"Miss Noble is an exceptional American girl. She has all the naïveté -and freshness of the country without any trace of its deuced -vulgarity." - -"Your long residence of two months in this great country fully equips -you for criticism," replied Reynolds with mock gravity. - -"I have lived a thousand years in America," was Moreton's response. -"Every hour has been a decade. I never felt a genuine sentiment -before I came here. You must pardon me if I arrogate to myself the -right to speak patronizingly to one who has only been here thirty or -thirty-five years." - -"I see how it is," said Reynolds. "The same old story. Another -sweetheart. You had four in Paris, three in Rome, two in Geneva, two -in----" - -"Oh, come now, none of that," Moreton exclaimed with an impatient -gesture. "For once and forever I am in earnest, don't you know. I -mean to marry Miss Noble." - -"I am heartily glad of it," said Reynolds, grasping his friend's -hand. "I cordially congratulate you, Moreton. What a sweet, bright, -perfectly natural girl she is! I honor you all the more for your -choice." - -As they walked on to the hotel, Reynolds was thinking what a fair -outcome this marriage would be to Moreton's rather adventuresome -bachelor career. He did not dare figure for himself any thing so -happy, but his imagination was full of floating, rosy fantasies, -formless as yet, but ready to take almost any shape of beauty, grace -or passion. He felt a quicker movement of his blood, he breathed -deeper, a wider horizon seemed open to him all at once. He dared not -try to analyze his state of feeling, lest the test should dissipate -it. Like some mere stripling just fallen in love, he heard all -through his dreams that night a sweet, strange voice singing that -light stanza of Moreton's song: - - "The light of her eyes - And the dew of her lips, - Where the moth never flies - And the bee never sips." - - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -AT THE GATE. - -Reynolds started to go on foot to White's cabin among the mountains. -His immediate purpose was to arrange for sending his dogs down to -Birmingham in a few days, in order that they might be ready for the -trip to General DeKay's. He was glad of this excuse for getting away -for a time from the town, out into the woods, where he might try to -understand himself; for he was in a mood very different from any he -had experienced in the last six years, and in fact very different -from any he ever before had realized. Since the evening of Mr. -Noble's dinner a change had been going on within him. It was as if -some reservoir of feeling, hitherto sealed up, had been tapped, from -which a rare sensation had diffused itself throughout his being, -mildly thrilling his nerves and vaguely firing his blood. He could -trace this change to no definite source, nor could he be sure whether -it tended toward some new and brighter phase of his variable life, or -toward some lurking evil. He felt the pressure of a doubtful -presentiment, as all strongly imaginative natures at times do, and in -the midst of a vivid sense of pleasure there hovered a dim shadow of -dread. - -It was in the twilight following an unusually warm day, that he -turned aside from the highway to follow a trail leading over a spur -of the mountain on the further side of which stood White's cabin. -The stars were already coming out in the soft, southern sky, and a -slender moon hung half-way down the west. The air was fragrant with -the keen essence of resin and the balsam of pine leaves, but there -was scarcely more than a mere breath astir among the frondous groves. -He walked rapidly, unconsciously timing his strides to the pulses of -his mood. Why would the voice of Miss Noble keep ringing in his -ears, and her earnest, honest eyes keep looking straight into his -with some almost imperceptible shadow of rebuke in them? And why did -the poor little face of Milly White now and again force itself upon -his inner vision? He could hardly be called morbidly sensitive, but -he had been for so long a time shut away from the finer and sweeter -social influences. Somewhat a dreamer, too, as are all persons who -dwell apart with nature and art. Since his hermit life began he had -been a contributor, under a _nom de plume_, to a number of English -and American publications, both as an artist and as a writer, so that -he had divided his time between the pleasures of the sportsman and -the milder excitements of the provincial magazineist. He had fancied -for a long time that he was happy, and that all the fascination of -woman's charms had ceased for him. Now as he strode along he was -loth to admit, even in the secrecy of self-communion, that the old -influence was taking hold again with a zest as fresh as it was keen -and deep. He stopped at the highest point reached by the sinuous -trail and sat down upon a stone. The tall, puffy column of black -smoke from the iron furnaces rose slantingly against the line of sky -above the valley where the town lay. In another direction, beyond a -dusky gulch, some lines of fire were burning along the mountain -sides, like the lights of an army camp. He tried to analyze his -feelings, but the effort was futile; he got up and went on down to -the cabin, his blood tingling as if with wine. - -The moon had fallen to the western mountain-tops and was touching a -peak with its delicate horn when he reached the rustic gate. Milly -was there, as was her wont, to welcome him home. - -"I knowed 'at ye'd come," she said, "fur I dremp last night at ye was -dead an' 'at's a sign, ye know." - -Her face, upturned to his, caught from the faint moonlight, or from -some other heavenly reflection, a gleam of peaceful happiness that -added something which Reynolds never before had seen there, or if -ever he had seen it, it was when, a mere child, she had so faithfully -hung over him and tended him through a long and almost fatal illness. -The memory of her untiring patience and gentleness, her quick sense -of his needs and her silent but evidently deep joy at his final -recovery, now suddenly rushed upon him. - -"I've ben a wushin' ye'd come an' I'm so glad!" she murmured, as she -opened the gate for him. "Hit air so lonesome when ye'r away." - -Her lithe, plump figure was clothed in a clinging gown of cotton -stuff and a white kerchief was pinned about her throat. Down over -her shoulders in a long, rather thin brush fell her rimpled pale -yellow hair. Her cheeks glowed and her lips had on them the dew of -innocent and, alas, ignorant maidenhood. A flash of recognition -leaped into the mind of Reynolds, though he was scarcely conscious of -it, and Milly White's strange beauty was no longer invisible to him. - -"Ye ortn't to stay away so long," she added, not in rebuke, but in a -low, quavering voice like that of some happy bird. Her mountain -dialect, crabbed as it appears in writing, added emphasis to the -fresh, half wild tenderness of her tones. - -All around the woods and little broken fields were dim and silent. -The warm southern stars burned overhead and the fitful balmy air -crept past with furtive whispers. The moon slipped down behind the -mountain, leaving on the peak a delicate wavering ghost that slowly -vanished into the common haze of the night. Reynolds paused in the -little gateway and looked down into Milly's lifted shining face. In -that instant a tender feeling, a subtle sense of some obscure but -immediate draught upon the inner sources of his passionate nature, -took complete possession of him. The touching sweetness of her face, -the wild grace of her form, and that charming expression of strength -and development, impressed him. He forgot the cabin, the pinched and -sapless mountain life and all its empty hopelessness. For the time -he saw nothing but Milly as his over-stimulated imagination lighted -her face and form with the allurements of irresistible beauty. He -stooped, and, swiftly folding her in his arms, kissed her -passionately. - -"Oh!" she cried, her voice slipping with sharp sweetness away through -the dusky woods. It was like the quick musical chirp of a glad bird. -She clung to him with strong, loving arms. - - -[Illustration: Her voice was like the quick musical chirp of a glad -bird. She clung to him with strong, loving arms. _Page 68_.] - -He let her go presently and said: - -"It is late for you to be out; come in now, the night air is -beginning to be chilly and you'll catch a cold." - -"Oh, no!" she naïvely responded, "let's us stay out yer, they're a -smokin' in ther, an' hit's so nice ter be out yer." Her mountain -dialect, as filtered through her pure, peculiarly musical voice, lost -all its harshness and became a fitting expression of a part of the -fascinating enigma of her character. "Ye'v' ben away so long, John, -an' sometimes I wus afeared to go er-sleep 'cause ye wus gone, an' -'cause I'd dream ye wus dead." - -"Well, come in now," he gently urged, drawing the long pale brush of -her hair through his hand and passing on into the cabin. - -She looked after him, the smile slowly fading out of her face and -giving place to that half-vacant, mildly hopeless expression which it -usually wore. She put her rather large but finely chiseled hands on -top of her head, with the fingers laced together, and with her elbows -extended gazed listlessly at the sky. She felt a vague sense of -disappointment blended with a delicious happiness. When Reynolds -entered the cabin, White and his wife were leaning over a mere -pretense of fire and smoking their pipes, with such abandonment to -the luxury that they merely glanced at him as he entered; but -mountain politeness overcame the tobacco at last, and they got up, -greeting him warmly. He shook hands with them in turn, asking about -their health, but declined to sit down, preferring after a few -commonplace inquiries, to go into his own room and be alone. - -His first sensation on entering his apartment was one of disgust at -its rough and uninviting aspect. Indirectly the question was -assailing him: why had he ever been content in such a place? A query -of this nature may arise in one's mind without any definite form, -impressing itself by a sort of implication and indirect reflection -from a throng of comparisons involuntarily and almost unconsciously -made. Reynolds' nature was intensely virile, his passions powerful -and his imagination tropical. It goes with the saying that his -feelings and tastes were subject to violent and sudden changes. He -usually had, however, perfect self-control and an outward appearance -of calmness under the most trying circumstances. But let the -check-rein once break and his fiery passions get control of the bit, -then nothing that passion demands could escape him. He was aware of -this; he knew the need of self-restraint, for at the bottom his was a -noble soul, full of self-sacrifice and generous, liberal manliness. - -On the floor by his easel lay a scrap of white paper with something -scrawled upon it. He picked it up mechanically and saw that Milly -had been trying to copy the dog-sketch that still rested on the -easel. It was a poor, crude scratch, such as a little child might -have accomplished, showing in its stiff, hesitating lines the -limitations of the girl's vague notion of art. He smiled at this -evidence of the first stirrings of culture in a handful of almost -barren soil. Art is forever dropping seeds that germinate under all -the exigencies of weather. Few of the shootlets live to show more -than a tender point above the surface of the ground, but their number -is legion and each spike gives to the air an infinitesimal trace of -fragrance which cheers us as we breathe. - -While he stood looking at her work, Milly came into the room through -a doorway that led from the kitchen. He was still smiling when he -looked towards her and said: - -"Did you draw this, Milly?" - -She put her hands over her face and leaned against the wall. The -light from a large lamp on the table gave to her figure the effect of -a strong sketch in charcoal. He noted her attitude with an artist's -eye, and with a man's eyes, too. There was a bird-like grace in the -droop of her shoulders and in the fine curves of her body and limbs. -Her flaxen hair gave forth just a modicum of golden light. - -He did not repeat his inquiry. Something in her appearance checked -him. All that Moreton had said about her came into his mind with -almost startling force. How clearly he felt now the dryad-like -strength of her figure, and the infantile purity of her face. She -had the soul of a woman, too, for how tenderly she had nursed him. - -"Get me my slippers, please, Milly," he presently said, more to break -up the situation than with a desire to be served. - -She let fall her hands and sprang to obey him, with the noiseless -swiftness of a kitten. She fetched his slippers, and also his -dressing gown, from a corner of the room. This done she lingered -near him for awhile, as if hoping he might need some further help. -She would not look straight at him now, but kept her face half turned -away, glancing sidewise under her drooping eyelids, one hand -fluttering idly about the kerchief at her throat. - -Some one lifted the latch of the door leading to the room in which -White and his wife were smoking. At the first click Milly darted -noiselessly into the kitchen. It was White, who hesitatingly thrust -his head past the door-post and said: - -"I loaded three hunderd carterges fur the twelve-bore gun." - -"Load a hundred for the twenty-gauge, if you please," said Reynolds, -"two and a half drams of powder and three-quarters of an ounce of -number eight shot. Put two wads on the powder, don't forget." - -"All right, sir, I air 'quainted wuth jest what ye want. Them -shells'll be fixed up jest to the dot. Ye orter see them air dogs, -they shine same like they'd ben 'iled." - -"Thank you, I'm glad of that. Good night," said Reynolds, anxious to -get back to his thoughts. - -White withdrew his head. - -Milly, from the shadows of the kitchen, gazed fixedly at Reynolds, as -he stood in the mellow light of the lamp. - -He was, indeed, a man pleasing to look upon, strong, tall, nobly -proportioned, with a grand head and a dark, handsome face. His limbs -were long and muscular, his shoulders square and broad, his chest -deep, his waist rather slender, his whole bearing that of a man by -birth and of right a gentleman, and by reason of health and training -an athlete. Say what we may, such a man bears about with him a power -of fascination, a magnetism able to work great good or great evil or -both. He is a flame in which a soul may be warmed or burned up, -according to circumstances. A girl of Milly's ignorance and -inexperience had nothing to protect her from such danger as his -influence might bring. She would have gone unhesitatingly to any -length he might have asked, without the slightest thrill of doubt or -fear. Hers was not a nature capable of much expansion or -improvement. A long line of mountain ancestors had fixed in her the -hereditary simpleness, narrowness and mental barrenness of the -Sandlapper; but along with these limitations had come the gift of a -flower-like beauty of form and face, and a voice sweeter than any -bird's. She had come up in a wild, lonely way, running free in wind -and sun and rain, quite illiterate, utterly unaware of conventional -proprieties, truthful, honest, affectionate, passionate, after a -fashion, and as independent as any deer in the woods. - -It would not be making the statement too strong to say that Reynolds -came to a discovery of her striking beauty as one comes upon those -haunting visions of loveliness in one's dreams. Why had he not -noticed it before? He was vaguely aware that in some way Cordelia -Noble had opened his eyes by stirring up the stagnant fountains of -his nature and setting old currents to flowing in his veins. Her -light girlish prattle had fallen into his ears with the effect that a -shower produces on parched and withered sod, and it had had the charm -of bird-songs after a long, dreary winter. - -He remained at the cabin several days before the time came for going -to General DeKay's, and it was in some way soothing and restful to -have Milly shyly hovering around him. He did not fully realize how -deeply he was absorbed in studying her face, her form, her free, wild -grace of motion and attitude, and the strange, crude music of her -voice. She followed him wherever he went, or at least whenever he -would permit it, content to be near him, like some faithful animal. -She had always acted thus, but he never had noticed it before. - -When at last the time arrived for his departure for General DeKay's, -Reynolds rose early in the morning to get ready for the little -journey. The DeKay place was down on the Alabama river, near -Montgomery, and the company from Birmingham would go by rail to the -former city, where General DeKay would have carriages for them. The -fact is that Reynolds had no physical preparations to make, these -having all been attended to with shrewd faithfulness by White; but -there was a sort of indefinable dread, or aversion, or some other -objection hovering in his mind in connection with the thought of -leaving his retirement, his hermitage, and floating out once more -upon the open sea of life. In the early gray of morning he crept -silently from the cabin and walked or rather climbed to the mountain -top and sat down on a stone with his face to the east. He had spent -a restless night, indulging, between snatches of unrefreshing sleep, -regret, remorse, repentance and other nightmares of conscience. He -had almost involuntarily sought this high perch overlooking all the -country round, as if expecting to be purified by the soft rare -atmosphere and the exhilarating wildness and freshness of the view. -The east was all aglow with the wonder of sunrise, whilst the valley -wherein Birmingham lay was shrouded in a mottled cloak of coal smoke -from the furnaces. The foot-hills, clothed in their bristling pines -and ragged scrub-oaks, were softened almost into tenderness by the -blueish film hovering over them. A dewy coolness and sweetness came -up on the morning wind as if out of the lowest stratum of the valley, -in strong contrast with the absolute dryness of the stony mountain -top. Slowly the fire of the sunrise increased in the filmy east -until the great morning-gate seemed suddenly to fly open with a wide -upward flare of flame and long, glowing spears of gold reaching out -across the valley and billowy foot-hills. Reynolds was in a -condition that demanded solitude, and yet he felt no definite purpose -in the mood, no clear reason for desiring to be alone. It filled him -with a sudden annoyance when a slight sound caused him to turn and -see Milly standing close by, bare-headed and smiling radiantly. He -frowned. - -"What are you here for, Milly?" he demanded sternly. "Go back -immediately." - -The girl did not speak. The light went out of her face and a strange -grayness overspread it instead. She turned about with a shrinking -motion and walked slowly away down the steep slope of the mountain -into the straggling wood. Almost immediately Reynolds felt how -brutal his act had been and regretted it, hated himself for it. He -arose as if to follow her, but faltered and hesitated, allowing his -eyes to wander over the grand mountain landscape now flooded with the -full light of the sun. What sort of change was this that was coming -into his life? Something like a warning shadow had fallen into his -soul, and yet some sweet foreboding was with it, some tender, subtle -charm luring him with a deep and sweet fascination. He stood a while -gazing dreamily, but seeing nothing, then, shaking himself as one -freeing himself from slumber, he walked rapidly in the direction -taken by Milly. Half way down the slope in a shadowy clump of dwarf -pines he found the girl sitting on an old log, her face buried in her -hands, sobbing bitterly. He stopped close to her and stood for a -moment looking at her. How pitiful a picture she made, with her -drooping little form, almost covered by the thin gold veil of bright -disheveled hair, outlined against a tangle of broken boughs! He sat -down beside her and took one of her wet little hands in his. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -AN OLD PLANTATION HOUSE. - -General DeKay's house was on a slight knoll overlooking in one -direction the Alabama river, and a broad stretch of fertile cotton -lands, whilst every other view was lost in the dense shadows of -semi-tropical woods. The building was wholly wanting in -architectural beauty, yet it was picturesque enough, with its wide -verandas and tall, heavy, stuccoed columns, its many-gabled roof and -huge stack of chimneys. Tall magnolia trees grew about it, vines -clambered over it, and its small-paned, many-mullioned windows and -open halls, gave it an air of old-fashioned conservatism and -hospitality quite in a line with what one has always read and heard -of southern country life among the wealthy planters of the Gulf -States. Spaciousness was the most marked feature of the building. -The rooms were many and large, arranged for the comforts of unlimited -light and air. When the windows and doors were all thrown open, a -breeze blowing from any quarter flowed through the house with -unchecked freedom. The floors were of ash, mostly uncarpeted, and -the walls and ceilings were heavily paneled with oak. Wide winding -stairways and huge fire-places, cumbrous chandeliers and sconces, -together with what appeared an over-crowded amount of massive -old-time furniture, suggested a formal stateliness rather out of -keeping with that freedom of welcome which was and is the distinctive -charm of southern hospitality. The mansion had been built and -furnished long before the war, in the most prosperous and extravagant -days of slavery, when the planter knew no limit to his ability to -make and spend and when he set no bound to the number of his guests -or the length of their stay under his roof. The dark gray stucco and -weather-beaten shingles, together with the old-time arrangement of -the doors and windows, gave to the building a very ancient look, as -if it might have stood there since a time when men lived as did the -old fighting and feasting barons of medieval England. Bucks' antlers -hung in the hall, along with heavy rifles and fowling pieces, and a -few striking ancestral portraits looked down from the dark walls. It -had known much revelry of a thoroughly proper sort, this grand old -home of the DeKays, and its inmates, for several generations, had -exerted a marked influence in the social and political affairs of the -state. The present owner had been a fighting general in the -confederate army and had won by heroic bravery the right to his -distinguished military title. - -When the party from Birmingham reached this charming old house by the -river, it was late in the afternoon. Several other guests had -already arrived from Montgomery, Pensacola and Mobile. A corps of -obsequious and clever negro servants, of both sexes and various ages, -were ready to attend all comers. The host, a slender man of middle -height, wearing a gray military beard, greeted every body with low -bows and profuse words of welcome, whilst his rather stout and -altogether good and motherly wife had a way that was welcome itself. - -Reynolds and Moreton were given rooms adjoining and connected by a -door, their windows looking down a long shining reach of the -reed-bordered river. An ideal place to sit and smoke, Moreton -thought, as he lighted a cigarette and drew a chair so that he could -watch the silvery winged kite sailing about in the distance, its -forked tail and small head giving it the effect of a fanciful -Japanese design wavering on the background of blue-gray sky. A flock -of domestic geese were on the river, floating idly, now and then -lifting their wings and flapping them rapidly and screaming in -clamorous concert. Wide fields, gently rolling, and distinctly -showing the ridged and parallel rows of cotton and corn stalks, swept -away almost to the horizon, bounded on one hand by the river, and on -the other by a thick wood, where even the deciduous trees still -retained a trace of summer greenery. Something in the air suggested -the sea, and a sensation, as of extreme remoteness and isolation, -took possession of Moreton's mind. It was his first experience of -life on a low-country plantation. The idyllic simplicity, quietude -and serenity impressed him as much as did the stateliness and -amplitude. Here was an estate of thousands of acres--many miles in -extent--bearing on its surface all the marks of almost primitive -modes of husbandry. Worm fences, shallow plowing, the use of hoe and -wooden rake; gates with pins and sockets instead of latches, -clap-boards instead of shingles and plank, and so on throughout the -gamut of bucolic appurtenances long since discarded in thrifty and -progressive regions. But beyond all this, there was that -indescribable air of isolation from the rest of the world, as if the -plantation were an independent self-sufficient hereditament of the -DeKays, owing no allegiance to any power outside its boundary lines. -No other house, save the small cabins of negro tenants scattered here -and there, was visible. The estate was too large to admit of -neighbors. - -When Moreton and Reynolds went down to the drawing-room they found -themselves in the midst of a company composed largely of gentlemen, -there being but four ladies besides the hostess. Miss Noble was -surrounded by a group of young sportsmen freely discussing hunting -and shooting topics, her bright, strong face and Juno form showing at -their best. A tall young woman, a Miss Beresford from Montgomery, -whose father had been governor of the state--and whose brother, Mr. -Mallory Beresford, a noted shot, was present--stood near a window in -conversation with Mr. Noble and General DeKay. But the most striking -group in the room was composed of Mr. Mallory Beresford and two -ladies, one a quick-spoken, alert, rather faded looking blonde, whose -lips could not cover her irregular teeth, the other a pale, -sweet-faced, almost slight young person, whose bearing, though -decidedly womanly and dignified, had a girlish charm wholly -indescribable. The blonde was speaking in a rapid manner, and her -words, sharply accentuated, reached the ears of Reynolds: - -"Oh, I am really not a guest," she was saying, "I invited myself. I -came to gather material for a letter to our paper. I begged the -privilege of General DeKay. A description of a shooting-party on a -genuine old Southern plantation is a rare find for a correspondent. -I feel that I am in grand luck." Her gestures amounted to -gesticulations. - -"Ah, Miss Crabb, what journal do you represent?" inquired Mr. -Beresford in a voice modulated to the gentlest southern inflections. - -"The Ringville _Star_, of Ringville, Indiana. I am the associate -editor," she glibly responded. - -Reynolds heard this much with his eyes fixed on the face of the other -woman whose smile had that rare quality of sweetness suggesting -sadness, and whose large, soft blue eyes beamed with a tenderness and -truthfulness that seemed in some way touched with well repressed -trouble. There are faces whose expression will at first sight -suggest some secret story of grief or wrong or regret. Sometimes a -high order of beauty will, of itself, carry with it, as the flower -carries its perfume, a haunting reminder, or half-reminder, of the -subtle ways of fate. Reynolds was aware that General DeKay was -coming across the room to meet him, but he could not tear his gaze -from the young woman's lovely face. - -"I haven't presented you to my niece," said the General, taking the -young man's arm. "She is really my daughter now, for I have made her -my heir. Haven't much left for her to inherit, however, save a good -old name." - -For a moment Reynolds' hand closed over the warm, dainty fingers -extended towards him, and he bowed low before Mrs. Ransom--Agnes -Ransom, a name that was soon to become one of thrilling sweetness to -him. - -"Oh, it's very pleasant, in many ways, to belong to the press," Miss -Crabb was saying. "One can go every where and see every thing. The -railroads give us free passes and the hotels put our rates to the -lowest. For instance, how could I ever have found my way into this -delightful house and this charming company, if I hadn't carried the -magic of the press with me?" She ended with a rather musical laugh. -Her question was one that Beresford dared not attempt to answer, for, -in fact, he knew of no other way by which she could have gained an -entrance to this secluded and exclusive place. It chanced that he -knew how the editor of a Montgomery paper had interested himself in -Miss Crabb's behalf and begged General DeKay to extend her the -privilege of "writing up" the shoot. - -"She seems to be an excellent young woman, and then her paper is -hopelessly obscure. You needn't fear you will ever hear of it again, -unless she sends you a copy," the editor urged, "and I feel a sort of -fraternal responsibility for her freedom of the country while she's -here. We can't be too tender in our treatment of Northern editors. -Whatever we do offensive to the least one of them will be trumpeted -to the four winds by them all." - -Beresford very much desired to talk with Mrs. Ransom, but the glib -representative of the _Star_ went on so rapidly that he could find no -chance for withdrawing his attention. Then when Reynolds appeared on -the scene all hope faded out. - -"You are a fine shot, Mr. Beresford, I presume," continued Miss -Crabb, "kill birds on the wing?" - -"I believe I am a fair shot," he answered, with a true sportsman's -faith in the impressiveness of modesty. "I shoot well enough to -enjoy the sport." - -"I saw Captain Bogardus and Dr. Carver shoot together once," she -said, "and it was just lovely. They hit most every time--little -glass balls thrown out of a trap. It was extraordinary." - -Reynolds and Mrs. Ransom had moved away. It was a great relief to -Beresford when dinner was announced. At any other time he might have -been able to bear, and even enjoy Miss Crabb's rapid and versatile -conversation, but now that Agnes Ransom was seemingly absorbed in -listening to this dark, handsome stranger, he could not keep his wits -about him. Miss Crabb had to do all the talking, a thing she did not -seem to regard as a hardship. - -"There is a veritable ruin near here, I am told," she said, "a -picturesque old heap, the remains of a grand mansion, on a bluff by -the river. I should very much like to go and see it before I return -to Montgomery. Do you know any thing about it?" - -"No, I regret that I have not the pleasure. I believe I have never -heard of it," he answered. "General DeKay should be able to inform -you." And so he conducted her to the host and hastened to another -part of the room, conscious of having been guilty of a petty turn. - -Moreton had joined the group of which Miss Noble was the light, -whilst Reynolds and Mrs. Ransom had found their way to Miss -Beresford, whose ultra Southern face and figure were supplemented by -conversational graces strikingly suggestive of a social era almost -forgotten, save among the most conservative people of the low -country. She was tall and dark, with regular features, large, rather -expressionless black eyes and straight black hair. Mrs. Ransom -introduced Reynolds, and then dinner was announced. - -"This is a gentlemen's party," Miss Beresford said, on the way to the -dining-room, "and it has been arranged that the ladies shall act as -waiters, and we beg you not to criticise our methods too severely--we -are not perfectly trained to the work." - -"One who has been for several years living in the family of a -mountaineer, as I have, should not be in a criticising mood," -responded Reynolds; "how shall such an one presume to judge whether -or no you balance a tray artistically?" - -He spoke lightly, but the word mountaineer, as he uttered it, called -up with electrical swiftness, a thought that sent a strange thrill -through him. A low, pathetically plaintive voice seemed to speak to -him in the mountain dialect. He saw a little coarsely-clad form -leaning on the gate at White's, with the pale starlight glimmering on -its upturned face. - -As Miss Beresford had said it was to be, the dinner was served by the -ladies, who passed behind the chairs of the gentlemen, flitting -nimbly back and forth, receiving the viands from the hands of negro -servants at the door of an ante-room, and presenting them to the -guests. It was a study worthy of an artist's handling, that ample -dining-room, with its curiously carved panels of oak, its antique -mahogany side-board, its ponderous brass chandeliers and its -high-backed chairs. Even Miss Crabb, as she actively busied herself -with the part of the duties that fell to her share, showed to -picturesquely good effect amidst such foils to her vivacious face and -restless energy. - -She was, by temperament and education, a person not likely to slight -any opportunity of furthering her own plans, no matter how great the -breach of small proprieties involved in the act. Even as she -brightly and smartly hurried hither and thither around the table, she -was thinking of how her experiences and observations here at the -DeKay mansion would look in the pages of a certain magazine, if only -she could get it accepted, with a number of picturesque, ultra -Southern illustrations, and with her name appended in full: Sara -Annah Crabb. She imagined the stir such an event would cause in -Ringville, where as yet her genius was not especially admired. She -nursed a dream of sudden fame quite masculine and muscular, so to -speak, which would enable her to get even with the male editors who -had so often made sport of her prose and verse and even of her name. -She was a good girl, honest, conscientious and full of kindness, but -she had had a very hard struggle with life, and she was mightily -ambitious. The adroitness with which she now and then slipped from -her pocket a little note-book and pencil and the rapidity with which -she jotted down certain memoranda of what she saw or heard prevented -much notice being given to the incivility by either host or guests. -Indeed she had a quiet, semi-furtive celerity that, coupled with what -may be called an insignificance of manner, neutralized any vulgarity -which otherwise would have been observable to an offensive degree. -Then, too, she talked so rapidly and volubly that if one looked at -her at all one must have been wholly occupied with what her lips were -doing. It was a wonder how she could impress one as being a very -quiet person and yet be skipping about and talking like that. - -She was a revelation to Moreton. She gave him a glimpse of American -intellectual life in the crude state exemplified from a feminine -standpoint. He had heard of and read of the strong-minded women of -the western continent, but here was the first instance that had come -within his view. Strange to say, he rather liked her. Her freedom -was racy of the West, the breezy, broad, grassy, fertile West, where, -as he imagined, the buffaloes ventured into the outskirts of the -cities and where the men took their guns with them to church. -Perhaps he did not imagine this, after all, but the spirit of it was -in his thoughts. She seemed to him a fair exponent of society molded -by such surrounding. He felt with æsthetic nicety how, turning from -Miss Crabb's harmless inquisitiveness, chic and crude vim, the lines -of feminine force and beauty, by comparison, were graded through a -thousand changes to reach such perfection as he perceived in Miss -Noble. He even found himself chivalrously attacking providence for -showing such a difference in bestowing gifts upon the two girls. Why -should Miss Crabb be so tall and angular and sallow, so lacking in -the lines of grace, so sharp-voiced and ugly? Why could she not have -been rich, at least? Poor girl! she must carry so much while Miss -Noble had beauty, health, grace, riches. - -The windows were open, allowing a gentle ripple of air through the -room, charged with a woodsy freshness and that grateful balm always -present on warm winter evenings in the south. Once when Mrs. Ransom -leaned over Reynolds' shoulder in performing some needed service, the -loose end of a simple ribbon at her throat was blown lightly against -his cheek and he caught the merest waft of violet perfume from the -flowers on her breast. It was a slight thing, but it was to him the -sweetest part of the dinner. - -[Illustration: It was a slight thing, but it was to him the sweetest -part of the dinner. _Page 88_.] - -Women appear to be little aware, as a rule, of the powerful influence -they may wield over men by their sweet negative qualities as well as -by their sweet positive ones. For instance, the absence of a high -harsh voice is next in value to the presence of a gentle and low one. -A quiet, modest shyness of manner may be apparent from the total -absence of any angular self-assertion rather than from the actual -existence of the manner itself. Hence it is that most women who -fancy themselves strikingly attractive to men, are really quite the -reverse, whilst it is often the case that the shy, sensitive woman -who shrinks from self-display, wins admiration from the other sex -without possessing any positive qualities especially charming. With -the approach of Mrs. Ransom, a half-formed sense of satisfaction and -subtle delight crept into Reynolds' bosom, as if with the fragrance -of the flowers she wore he breathed in a rarer and more precious -element exhaled by her own flower-like nature. It is good for a man -to be able to keep undulled his susceptibleness to such delicate -influences, for thereby his nature enriches and sweetens itself. The -crucial test of virility of the highest order is that of its -sensitiveness to the finest and purest demands of woman's nature. -The man's soul has lost its morning freshness whose nerves do not -tingle response to the least touch of the most ethereal breath of -feminine sweetness, sincerity and beauty, and he is a brute who -pauses to trace his susceptibility to some gross origin. - -"It is quite charming to dine under such ministration," said -Reynolds, while receiving some delicate dish from the steady little -hand, "but I should----" - -"No," she interrupted with a grave, sweet smile, "do not say the -rest. We think it quite fitting. My uncle at first refused to have -any ladies included in the party; but I insisted on having one or two -of my dearest friends, and it is agreed that we are not to be -considered as forming any part of the company." - -She passed on, without giving him any chance for further words. -Beresford, who sat opposite, begrudged every syllable she had uttered. - -All around the table the conversation was of field sports, adventures -with dog and gun and prospects for the morrow's shooting. General -DeKay and Mr. Noble, as veterans, led the discussions, the banker -giving fluent and graphic accounts of his experiences in the Maine -and Michigan woods, the General responding with racy bits of -adventure in the game regions of Louisiana and Florida. Men who like -field sports are, as a rule, earnest, healthy, vivacious fellows, -fond of good cheer, with a decided leaning towards making the best of -every thing. Such company as that around the board at the DeKay -mansion, was, therefore, one to enjoy to the full the superb feast -and all its attendant freedom from formality. The ladies retired -when the cigars came in, leaving General DeKay and Mr. Noble to test -some old brandy, while the younger men sipped a milder beverage, -under the white wreaths of Cuban tobacco smoke. Two or three negro -men-servants had quickly cleared the table, and now moved noiselessly -about, or stood like white-aproned ebon statues, gazing thirstily -upon the sparkling glasses. - -Meanwhile the ladies were having their own pleasant dinner in the -breakfast room, Miss Crabb entertaining them with a vivid account of -some of her experiences as a correspondent and editor. Her sketches -had a breadth and freedom, all the more fascinating to the Southern -part of her audience, on account of the impressions they gave of a -field of woman's labor unknown in the dreamy land of cotton and -sugarcane, magnolias and mocking-birds. Miss Crabb was very earnest -and sincere, deeply impressed with the importance and influence of -her profession, and her straight forward manner of talking, along -with a perfectly evident good-heartedness, won a peculiarly qualified -admiration and respect from the majority of her listeners. Her -effect with Miss Noble was quite different. The shrewd, wide-awake -Northern girl knew very well how purely a matter of business Miss -Crabb was making of the whole affair, and how like a dissecting-knife -her pen would be. She sympathized with the young journalist, -however, and silently hoped that she might make a success of her bold -effort to penetrate to the inner heart of this old, exclusive -Southern social circle, the picturesque charm of which seemed to -hover like an atmosphere in the quaint, dingy, airy room. - -All the doors and windows were open and the night breathed through -the house, bearing the pungency of the men's tobacco in faint traces -to the breakfast room, and presently the sound of a banjo along with -the mellow, barbaric voice of a negro singer, filled the place. -There was almost uproarious applause from many manly mouths. Uncle -Mono was ending up the feast with his favorite song: - - "De raccoon am a cunnin' ting, - He rammel in de dahk, - Wid nuffin' 'tall fo' to 'stu'b he mind, - Tell he yer my 'coon-dog bahk!" - - -He was a jolly-faced, jet black old fellow, with a great shock of -grizzly wool on his head, a comically flexible mouth, and dusky eyes -that danced to the rapid time of his music. - -It was the merest chance that suggested Uncle Mono and his banjo, but -if it had been pre-arranged, as in a play, that his two or three -humorous songs and his one pathetic love-ditty should close the -evening's festivities, it would have been in accord with the highest -art. The almost rude yet wholly fascinating carvings on the -time-stained panels of the dining-room, seemed to especially favor -the effect of such lyrical savageness and grotesquerie. - -The impression upon Moreton's mind was strange, almost weird. When -all was over and he was alone in his room, he leaned back in a chair, -with his feet thrust out of the open window, and gazed into the soft -sky with a haunting sense of how suddenly and far he had been removed -from the glare and show and polite tumult of his own world. It was -all very fascinating, this isolation and decay, these soft-tongued -women, these knightly, half-grave, half-hilarious men, this strain of -music from Dahomey. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -WITH DOG AND GUN. - - "A westerly wind and a cloudy sky, - Proclaim it a hunting morning," - - -Sang some one of the merry sportsmen, as the dogs were loosed in a -gently rolling field, where, on one hand, the stiff, straggling rows -of dry cotton stalks ran down to the river bank, and on the other a -dreary fallow plat, overgrown with yellow sedge and clumps of bushes, -spread away to a dense wood. There was, in fact, a gentle breeze -from the west, and a thin veil of fleece clouds covered the sky. The -morning appeared propitious, every one was in high spirits. - -The ladies, in an ample spring wagon, had been driven to an elevated -point whence they could have a sweeping view of the grounds to be -shot over. A field glass or two had been furnished them, so that -distance need not trouble their observations. - -The men, in a long line and distant from each other not less than -twenty yards, walked slowly with the dogs running to and fro ahead of -them. - -The morning was balmy and warm, but not hot, with just a hint of -dampness in the air. Along the river a low-hanging line of gray fog -was slowly fading away. - -The ladies alighted from the wagon, with the help of the colored -driver, and disposed themselves in picturesque attitudes, their broad -hats thrown back and the wind fluttering their ribbons. Miss Noble -and Miss Crabb were the most interested, the latter making swift -notes in a little red book. - -Reynolds had quite forgotten his promise to Miss Noble about teaching -her how to shoot. He had, in fact, forgotten her as well. Moreton -was on one side of him, Beresford on the other. He felt the -responsibility of having to shoot between too such marksmen; but he -was also keenly alive to the opportunity it would give him for a -display of his finest abilities as a sportsman. He had resolved to -lead the field if possible and he could scarcely have told why. Mrs. -Ransom had said something just before starting about Beresford being -considered the best shot present. This may have served as a -stimulus. She had not meant to be overheard by any gentleman of the -party, her words being for Miss Crabb's ear; but Reynolds did hear. -Her voice had a way of getting to him, as if it sought him of its own -account. It was a very sweet and musical voice, suggesting a reserve -of strength and depth, with just a suspicion in it of that vague -sadness which lurked in her face. - -Some hampers containing luncheon had been deposited under a tree by a -little spring near where the ladies were posted, and here, at the -sound of a horn blown by the negro attendant, all were to come at -high noon. - -The shooting began early, the first birds being pointed by one of -General DeKay's dogs. It was a fine strong bevy, flushed in a weedy -swale. Mr. Noble and the General both fired right and left, getting -but one bird each. The dogs dropped to shot and the game, well -scattered, was marked down in some low sedge two hundred yards -further on. Two of the dogs were now sent to retrieve the dead -birds, which was scarcely done when another covey was flushed by some -of the party, the birds taking almost the same flight as the first. -This was enough to warm the blood in any sportsman's veins. The dogs -fairly trembled with eagerness. The line was lengthened, the -shooters getting further apart so as to cover a wide territory. -Beresford's pointer was first to stand, Reynolds' setter, a noble -dog, promptly backing, and two birds were flushed. It was a fine -chance for a double shot, but Beresford missed with his first barrel -and killed with his second. Reynolds cut down the missed bird with -his right and killed another that flushed in front of him with his -left. The shooting was now begun in earnest, Beresford making a very -difficult double a few steps farther on, whilst Moreton distinguished -himself by three straight misses. General DeKay and Mr. Noble were -apparently the most excited men in the field. The banker was too -ready, shooting as soon as his bird showed above cover, and the -General was rather slow, poking his gun after his game until it had -flown out of certain range. - -As fresh bevies were flushed and the birds scattered themselves over -a wide area, the sportsmen became separated, or hunted in twos and -threes. - -Miss Noble and Miss Crabb watched this eager skirmish line through -their glasses, keeping up, meantime, a running discussion of the -incidents as they occurred, with true feminine lapses, now and then, -into criticism of whatever chanced to offend their notions of how a -shoot should be conducted. - -"I hope Mr. Reynolds will get outrageously beaten," exclaimed Miss -Noble, "I really do." - -"Why?" asked the editor. - -"Because I do," was the response so perfectly intelligible and -satisfactory to all women. - -"Oh," said Miss Crabb, "you have a grudge, have you?" - -"He promised me he would teach me how to shoot," Cordelia laughingly -responded, "and, like all men, he has not kept his word." - -"There! did you see that?" cried Miss Crabb still intently surveying -the distant shooters. - -"No, what was it?" - -"Mr. Reynolds killed a bird that Mr. Beresford had missed and then -turned and killed one that the English gentleman--what's his -name?--had failed on! It was lovely--I like that!" - -"Mr. Moreton appears not to be having good luck," said Cordelia, "but -I fancy he's quite as good a shot as any of them. My father says -that any one will have unlucky days, no matter how good a shot he may -be." - -"Mr. Reynolds hasn't missed yet, so far as I have observed," said -Miss Crabb. "There went down two more birds before his gun. I think -he has the best dog of any of them: it seems to know just what he -wants." - -"How is my brother succeeding?" inquired Miss Beresford from her seat -on a wagon-cushion which she had laid on the ground and covered with -a gay shawl. - -"Very finely, indeed," was Miss Crabb's ready response. "The honors -seem to lie between him and Mr. Reynolds. They easily lead the rest." - -"My brother never has been beaten, I believe," Miss Beresford went -on. "He is said to be the best shot in the state." - -"Begging your pardon," Miss Crabb responded, "it really looks as if -Mr. Reynolds would beat; he hasn't missed a shot yet, and I don't -think he's going to." - -Miss Beresford smiled rather incredulously, as if her faith in her -brother's superiority could not so easily be shaken. - -"But they are all getting so far away that I can not be sure any -longer," continued the observant editor in an apologizing tone. - -Mrs. Ransom was seated some distance apart from the rest, busying -herself with pinning a wreath of bay leaves from material gathered -off some small trees by the spring. - -The firing, scattered far and wide, came to the ears of these -listeners, softened down to a mere desultory booming, with now and -then the quick repetition that told of a double shot. Even Miss -Crabb ceased her efforts to follow the course of the merry sportsmen. -She fell to work at her note-book as if venting a bitter spite upon -it and for a time her tongue rested from its almost incessant labors. - -Cordelia went to where Mrs. Ransom was busy with the bay leaves and -sat down on the dry ground beside her. - -"A victor's crown," she said gayly. "So you are going to reward the -winner?" - -"Oh no, I have been playing little girl. When I was a child I used -to make wreaths like this, only I have lost the ready knack I had -then." - -"It's such a delightful thing to be a little girl," said Cordelia, -impulsively laying her hand on Mrs. Ransom's arm and fixing her frank -eyes upon her face. "I wish I could have always staid about -thirteen--that's the golden age, I think, don't you?" - -"I was a very happy little girl," replied Mrs. Ransom. The -evasiveness in her voice and the far away look that came for a moment -into her large blue eyes, were not observed by Cordelia, who, with a -buoyant, retrospective ring in her voice, exclaimed-- - -"Oh, so was I, ever so happy. There never was any one who had so -delightful a time. It was so easy to be happy then." - -"You don't look very sad, even now," said Mrs. Ransom, wholly -recovering her sweet, half-sad smile. - -Cordelia laughed merrily. - -"One can't always tell what a world of trouble a face like mine may -mask," she replied in her lightest way, but it gave her a real pang -the next moment, recollecting Mrs. Ransom's bitter experience. She -picked up the wreath, which was now finished, and put it on her head. -It gave to her plump, joyous face an air so free, fresh and almost -rustic, that one might have mistaken her for a Western farmer's -daughter. Mrs. Ransom looked at her for a moment, and then on a -sudden impulse, put a hand on either glowing cheek, and drawing her -forward, kissed her again and again. - -"I hope your dear, sweet face will never be more of a mask than it is -now," she said. "You blush as if my kiss had been----" - -"Had been sour!" interrupted Cordelia with a ringing laugh. - -Meantime the men were having what is called glorious sport. The -dogs, now thoroughly warmed with their work, were behaving their -best. It was a pleasing thing to see them consciously competing with -each other, carefully beating back and forth in front of their -masters, allowing no spot of ground to go unexamined, promptly -standing or backing or dropping to shot, eagerly watching each -other's movements and taking quick advantage of every favoring -accident of ground-surface or of cover. Each dog took evident -delight in seeing a bird, flushed from his point, killed by his -master. A missed quail brought as much chagrin to dog as to -sportsman. - -Some of the party, in following the flight of the bevies, reached a -country cut up by shallow ravines and gulches leading down to the -river and filled with a dense tangle of small trees and matted vines. -Here the shooting was quite difficult and exciting, and both -sportsmen and dogs were taxed to the utmost of their skill; for it -was impossible to know where a bird would flush or what direction its -flight would take. Mr. Noble was peculiarly suited to this sort of -thing. He was in his element where the cover was thickest and the -swiftest action required. He displayed his nimbleness and readiness -to good effect snap-shooting, as the birds whirred out of the dense -cover to turn into it again, showing themselves for the merest point -of time. He and Reynolds chanced to get together towards noon in a -place where to kill a bird required almost electrical quickness. -Reynolds rarely refused a shot and always killed. His movements did -not appear surprisingly swift, but the gun always got to his shoulder -in time. He did not snap-shoot, as the word goes: his aim was -obtained with the promptness, celerity and certainty of a mechanical -effect. Only four times during the sport did he fail to bring down -his game, and every bird of fifty shot at was hit. But as a true -sportsman, he was ready to yield the palm to the highest achievement, -and while he felt a secret satisfaction in knowing that he had beaten -Beresford, he took even keener pleasure in the victory of his dog. -The noble animal had performed a feat in the presence of Beresford, -Mr. Noble, Moreton and General DeKay, that proved him a king of dogs. - -"I'll give you a thousand dollars cash for him!" exclaimed the banker -excitedly. - -The entire party broke forth with hearty applause. - -It came about as follows: The dog had been sent into some weeds by -Moreton to retrieve a dead bird, which he promptly did. It was as he -was returning, with the game in his mouth, and leaping clear above -the weed-tops, as was his habit, that he suddenly, at the highest -point of a bound, turned his head half about, and stiffened himself -in mid-air, on the scent of another bird. He struck the ground -standing staunchly, his eyes fixed, his feet slightly spread, his -back and tail on a line. The sportsmen could hardly believe it a -genuine point; but when the bird was flushed and killed, they stood -for a moment looking at the sensitive thorough-bred, with that -flawless admiration which men reserve for beautiful women and -sure-nosed dogs; then they all applauded. - -Beresford felt defeated at every point, and in his heart a -premonition of failure began to ferment. A few days ago he had met -Agnes Ransom at his father's house in Montgomery, and had fallen a -prey to her gentle voice and grave, sweet face. Since then she had -been constantly in his mind, her influence growing upon him by force -of memory, some new grace adding itself to the impression, as each -hour recalled a word, a smile or a glance unconsciously treasured by -him. Now it all seemed slipping away. It is one of the most natural -of mental operations, this swift reaching forward to grasp an evil -before it is more than vaguely threatened. We call it foreboding: it -may be the last refinement of logic. Beresford kept to himself the -rest of the morning, rather gloomily borrowing of the future. -Something told him that Agnes Ransom and Reynolds were going to be -lovers. His enthusiasm flagged and he shot with less than his usual -care. On the contrary, Reynolds seemed to be attended by the god of -good luck; every chance seemed to favor him. His self-confidence -never once deserted him. He too was borrowing of the future, and -what he borrowed was very sweet. Deep in his heart nestled the -precious belief that Mrs. Ransom had involuntarily--nay, -unconsciously--responded to his interest in her. This gave him nerve -and alertness and force. When he would flush a bird, the loud hum of -its wings and the bullet-like rapidity of its flight did not disturb -his thought or his vision. He threw up his gun with a promptness and -self-possession that insured a perfect aim. When he fired the result -was a thoroughly fine, clean shot, stopping the game dead in mid-air, -so that it fell without a flutter. Yet all the time his dream went -on. - -At about half-past twelve the horn blew loud and long from the place -where the ladies had been stationed with the luncheon. Most of the -shooters were loth to leave off the exciting sport, even though the -stirrings of hunger began to be importunate. The mellow notes of -invitation fancifully executed by the negro "bugler" had nothing very -insistent in them. It was a long while before the party began to -straggle back. Reynolds was first to reach the little grove above -the spring near where the ladies had been waiting and watching. He -strode swiftly along with his gun across his shoulder, his dogs -following at his heels. A small, fancifully twisted tuft of -mistletoe that he bore in his left hand was heavy with milk-white -berries and waxen green leaves. His broad-brimmed hat was far back -on his head, leaving his swarthy face unshaded. He had almost -touched Mrs. Ransom before he saw her where she sat under a little -pine tree with her hands listlessly crossed in her lap, her head -uncovered and her dark hair gleaming in strong contrast with the -almost colorless fairness of her face. He started perceptibly on -discovering her, but a smile came over his face, as he bowed and said: - -"A charmingly airy place you have: may I join you? I am really quite -tired." - -"Certainly, there's ample room," she half-hesitatingly replied, a -little color slowly warming her cheeks, "but I believe the luncheon -is spread and you must be hungry." - -"No, I'd rather rest. The party is scattered in every direction; it -will be some time before all are in. What a wide view from -here--could you see us shooting?" - -"Yes, that is Miss Crabb and Miss Noble could--but really I did not -look. It frightens me to see a gun fired. It is a silly weakness -that I can't overcome." - -He had thrown aside upon the ground his old-fashioned game-bag -stuffed with the dead birds, and laid his gun across it. He sat down -a little way from her, in a half-reclining position, resting the -weight of his heavy shoulders on one elbow. - -"I never before saw quails so numerous, I believe," he said, twirling -the spray of mistletoe and looking at his favorite dog which had -crouched panting before him. "We have had a fine morning's shoot." - -"I am very glad. My uncle would have been so disappointed if you had -failed to find birds," she responded, her voice, so sweet, so -peculiarly artless and tender. - -"He is a fervent sportsman," she continued, "and sets great store by -his annual shooting party. Last year the rain interfered and he was -terribly put out about it." - -"He certainly knows how to manage an affair like this," Reynolds -said. "I never saw any thing so perfectly planned and executed. We -found the birds at once and have been shooting ever since. Nothing -could have been better." - -He carelessly took up her hat, which lay within easy reach of him, -and thrust the stem of the mistletoe spray behind the broad band of -ribbon that encircled the crown. It was a cold looking cluster. - -"Not a bad bit of decoration, is it?" he smilingly inquired. "It is -the most peculiar and beautiful sprig of mistletoe I ever saw. See -how the smaller stems have grown around each other in fanciful -twists." - -She made a quick, suddenly-arrested movement, as if to snatch away -the frigid-looking winter cluster, then glancing up into his face, -simply said: - -"The hat is not of a kind to bear much embellishment." - -He appeared not to hear her. In fact he did not hear her, or if he -did it was merely her voice, not her words. The relaxation from the -physical exercise and mental excitement of the sport was so sweetly -supplemented by the influence of Mrs. Ransom's gentle presence that -he fell into a mood as dreamy and tender as the air and sunshine -around him. Some vague stimulus was affecting his nerves and blood, -suffusing his brain with a happiness as precious as it was -undefinable. Like the effect of rare wine, this sudden mood seemed -to be connected in some way with evil, as if it were too delicious -not to have some after-taste of the hidden poison it contained. He -knew and he did not know what it was that, like a skulking serpent, -shadowy and hideously menacing on account of its uncertain -proportions as well as on account of its venomous nature, darted now -and again through his dream. Mrs. Ransom, as if in some way touched -with the subtile essence of his mood, looked at him and felt a little -premonition of some new experience in store for her. At this moment -she and Reynolds were as detached from all the rest of the world as -if they had been the only inhabitants of an undiscovered island. -They were aware of this and for a few moments reveled in the -fascination of the experience. Somewhere in the conscience of each -an ill-defined protest against the future stirred uneasily. - -Reynolds was first to recover himself. Clearing his mind, as if with -a wave of the hand, he held the hat towards her with a careless -movement. - -"Put it on and let me see how it will look," he said. "I pride -myself in my ability to trim hats." - -If she had a mind to be offended she quickly changed. His smile was -so frank and his eyes so bold and honest that it was impossible for -her to suspect him or to refuse his light request. But she could not -keep a pink flush from rising into her cheeks, and her lips glowed -like cherries. He looked calmly at her for a moment, then in a -perfectly earnest way said: - -"I like it, it becomes you: please let it stay, will you? You are -lovely when you look like that." - -[Illustration: "You are lovely when you look like that." _Page 107_.]. - -His eyes were fixed upon hers with a deep and tender meaning. -Despite herself her heart leaped violently and she grew pale. In her -confusion she arose. He saw the change come over her face and sprang -hastily to his feet. - -"I hope I have not offended you, you are not----" he earnestly began. - -She interrupted him with a little laugh. - -"Nothing so serious as that," she lightly exclaimed, waving one fair -hand. "It is time for us to be looking after the luncheon." - -She stooped and patted the head of one of the dogs. The rest of the -sportsmen came straggling up the incline from the fields, one of them -singing a gay hunting carol. - -Reynolds picked up his bag and gun. There was a glow in his eyes and -a hot tingle in his veins. He looked at the lithe, graceful form, -and sweet, earnest face of the young woman, as at an inestimable -treasure. The flush had returned to her cheeks and lips, though she -had struggled hard to overcome this incomprehensible emotion. - -"Why can't we stay here a little longer?" he asked, almost with -vehemence. "I was enjoying it so much. There's no dire necessity -for going, just at this moment. is there?" - -She fixed her eyes on his for a second, then lowered them and turned -half away. It was a mere glance, a flash, but it was an involuntary -confession that she understood his feelings and did not dare to give -them opportunity. What further meaning it conveyed he could only -wish he knew. - -"Yonder is uncle," she murmured. "Poor old man, I know he's tired!" -and she almost ran to meet General DeKay. - -Reynolds watched her go tripping down the gentle slope, through the -stunted wire grass and tufts of sedge, wearing on her hat his spray -of mistletoe. She looked like a mere girl, slim and _svelt_, whose -movements were as light and free as the wind. She had won over his -dog and it trotted away beside her, looking up into her face. He -felt his heart throbbing heavily, and something like a tender mist -gathered in his eyes. An almost uncontrollable desire to go swiftly -after her and clasp her in his arms took possession of him. Would he -ever get so near her again? Would she ever again give him a look -like that which was now pictured so vividly in his memory? Ah, those -serious, tender, earnest eyes, that low, gentle, haunting voice! -Would those sweet, half-sad lips ever meet his with a kiss of -unquenchable love? He stood there actually trembling with the stress -of his suddenly-generated emotions, an underglow of passion showing -in his bronzed face. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -LUNCHEON AL FRESCO. - -It is one of the distinctive features of life in our Southern States, -this keen pursuit and enjoyment of field sports. The climate favors -every thing of the sort, and the tastes of the people, as well as the -leisure which has always been their inheritance, keep alive a zest -for out-door accomplishments, amongst which shooting is accorded the -chief place. It has sometimes been hinted that, so zealous are they -in this direction, if small game chances to be scarce, they will on -occasion shoot at each other, in order not to fail of diligent -practice; but no man who has ever enjoyed the cordial hospitality and -generous freedom of a low-country plantation in the quail season, -will be likely to recall any but the charmingest recollections of the -occasion. The open season for small game comes there in the most -delightful part of the year, when to be out of doors is, of itself, -as exhilarating as a surf-bath in summer. From the old, wide-winged, -airy plantation house and its profuse cheer and comfort, one goes -forth into fields, basking in more than Indian-summer dreaminess and -warmth. The air is fresh and pungent, the ground is dry, the -prospect is liberal and inviting. There is no sense of limitation to -the rambler's operations; he feels that, like the poet's brook, he -can go on forever. - -By gentlemen of robust tastes, such entertainment as that afforded by -General DeKay's shooting-party is of a kind greatly enjoyed and -rarely obtainable. The game had been carefully preserved and the -shooting area was practically unlimited, which, without the aid of -perfect weather and a rare hospitality, would have made the mere -liberty to shoot joy enough for the enthusiastic sportsmen. But -General DeKay and his wife knew how to entertain in that off-hand, -natural way which is peculiarly gratifying to men bent on such -vigorous pleasures as field-sports give. Substantial viands, good -wine, fine tobacco and freedom from conventional absurdities around -the board were supplemented by such cordial watchfulness of their -needs as made the guests feel "at home" indeed. - -The luncheon spread on a smooth plat by the spring and presided over -by Mrs. Ransom was discussed in no mincing mood by the -quail-shooters, while they talked over the excellent sport of the -morning with frequent eulogies of their host's superior manner of -planning and directing it. - -Reynolds' shooting was heartily praised, and Ruby, his dog, got such -eloquent tributes as never before fell to an unsuspecting setter. -Miss Crabb could not refrain from openly making notes, nor could she -repress a desire to ask questions. She was embarrassed with the -riches of material that fell about her. She had visions of a letter -that should make both her and her paper famous. - -Physically as well as mentally, Miss Crabb was in strong contrast -with the rest of the company; her voice, too, her pronunciation, her -method of intonation, and, indeed, all the salients of her -personality, cut with an almost barbaric _eclat_ through this smooth -social atmosphere. At every turn she made herself felt as a foreign -quantity. She was obviously busy; she had a purpose, an ulterior -object; she was plying a trade, and a trade, by the way, of which she -was very proud. So nearly as words may express it, she was -pleasingly disagreeable. Her companions were aware that she aroused -in them a dual sentiment wherein pity was scarcely separated from a -low grade of admiration. That she was a novice in newspaper work -could be detected by the most unskillful observer, and like all -novices, she was an enthusiast. Evidently she regarded gathering -notes as the chief purpose of life for which she would make any -sacrifice. She was nervous and fussy, quick, keen, ready, anxious to -make every thing serve her a turn. Hearing the gentlemen discussing -the interesting features of the morning's sport, she plied them with -such a volley of questions as taxed their agility to answer. -Meantime her pencil danced recklessly over the pages of the little -red book. The prospect of doing something unique intoxicated her and -made her enunciation still more rapid. Reynolds' shooting and the -splendid achievement of his dog were to be the chief points of her -report and she spared no pains to get the details in full. She -looked upon men and men's doings as of much more importance and -interest than women and women's acts; she was not quite sure that -even dogs were not rated by the world as rather more noticeable than -women. Secretly she harbored an ambition to show the world what a -woman could do if once she had got clear of the meshes of feminine -restraints. Why shouldn't she report a quail-shoot just as well as a -man? At all events, she was bound to try, and so she went nimbly at -the task. - -"It's unusual, isn't it?" she inquired of Mr. Tom Boardman, a merry -youth just graduated from a Tennessee college, and brim full of -sport-lingo, "It's unusual, isn't it, for a dog to stiffen in the air -on a point with a bird in its mouth?" - -She said this all so glibly and earnestly, with a slight sideways -turn of her head, that the youth came near choking over his effort to -smother a wild laugh. - -"Very unusual," he answered in a suffering tone, "very." - -She made some rapid notes in the red book. Then looking up, with the -end of the pencil against her teeth, said: - -"And he struck the ground, stanch on his nose, at a half-turn; is -that right?" - -Mr. Tom Boardman's eyes suddenly widened and then his nerve failed -him. He laughed uproariously in spite of himself; but to his great -relief Miss Crabb did not take offense. She joined him quite -heartily in his merriment at her own expense. - -"It's very interesting," she added, "and I must get it right. Give -it to me slowly in technical language, so that I can take it down. I -guess I got some of the terms mixed--absurdly, too, didn't I?" - -He caught a glimpse, so to speak, of the girl's charming kindness of -heart and evident sincerity of purpose, which instantly won upon him. -He changed without appearing to change and took great pains to give -her the information she desired, volunteering besides to detail a -number of the most striking incidents of the morning. - -"Why shouldn't you try writing a novel and weave into it something of -this sort?" he asked. "It seems to me that you might make a lively -story of such materials as you are gathering." - -"And if I should write one," she answered, her face growing serious, -"I couldn't get it printed." - -"Why?" - -"Oh, the publishers don't want provincial stories, they are not in -vogue now." - -"Ah, well, but make it so fresh and true to life and so breezy and -interesting generally, that the publishers couldn't refuse. I know -you could." - -"That's a kind compliment, but I'm too well posted to be carried -away. A novel, now-a-days, must be what they call analytical, a -fine-spun exemplification of an author's power to lay bare the -motives of his characters in doing what they do. Plots are -abolished, stories ignored." - -"But I like stories, genuine love-stories, with a smack of adventure -and lots of incidents," he earnestly exclaimed. "What's the interest -in all this long-drawn, tedious nonsense about a common-place -American young woman's reasons for refusing an English nobleman, or -about why a European patrician of doubtful morals could not -condescend to marry a good, free, sweet American girl?" - -Miss Crabb smiled and shook her head. - -"But the critics have decided against you, and what are you going to -do about it? I, too, like stories, and so, I think, does almost -every body, but they are out of fashion. All the thrifty writers go -in for the analytical novel now. It don't make much difference what -your characters do, so that you are able to dissect their motives for -so doing." - -She sighed regretfully as she ended, as if the subject had awakened -sad memories. - -"Well, if I were a critic," said he, with a light laugh, "I'd give -your story a genuine indorsement of authority." - -"No, you wouldn't," she responded. "You re a man and you'd do as the -rest. You'd say: Poor girl, she'd better be washing dishes or -teaching school." - -Boardman laughed. - -Beresford saw the mistletoe spray in Mrs. Ransom's hat, and, not -dreaming of any one else than herself having put it there, asked -where she had got it. - -"Mr. Reynolds brought it from somewhere in his rambles this morning," -she said. She took off her hat and plucked out the sprig, but after -hesitating a moment, put it back again. - -Beresford received the blow bravely, and, like the true gentleman -that he was, accepted the situation without apparent embarrassment. -Love at first sight is a fruit of warm climates, and passionate souls -seize it rapturously; but love, even under a Southern sky, sometimes -turns to ashes before the swiftest lips may reach it. - -"Mr. Reynolds has won the victory to-day," he said, "and under the -ancient rules has the right to choose where he will have the crown -rest. You wear it like a queen." - -There was something behind his light manner and lighter words that -touched her. She did not rightly construe him, guessing that he was -simply striving to hide the chagrin of his first defeat in the field. - -"Victor to-day, vanquished to-morrow," was her quick rejoinder; -"there is a good deal of mere chance in such things, I suppose. No -doubt to-day was one of your unlucky days." - -"Yes, but I must admit that I never have equaled Mr. Reynolds' score -of this morning, so I can not get any comfort out of your gracious -suggestion," he frankly exclaimed. "He is a better shot than I--the -best I ever saw." - -"My uncle says so too," she responded, "and he is enthusiastic about -the dog, the one that did the fine act." - -"Superb, superb!" he rejoined with emphasis. "I would put that dog -against the whole world of dogs." He found a sort of comfort in -praising his rival and his rival's dog. It was a species of -self-torture that deadened for the time the pain of his defeat. - -Miss Beresford, who was so situated that she could not avoid hearing -this conversation, glanced at her brother with a repressed resentment -in her eyes. She felt that he was not doing himself justice; that he -was, in fact, failing to assert himself as a true Beresford, a name -that had never before tamely accepted and acknowledged defeat. - -"Give me your score, Mr. Beresford, please," said Miss Crabb, coming -forward with her book and pencil. - -"Thirty-three," he promptly answered. His sister's face flushed with -anger. She turned to him and said under her breath: - -"She shall not do that--she shall not publish it!" - -"Pshaw!" he almost whispered, "don't allow yourself to show any -feeling. Don't make a scene. Can't you feel the delicacy of my -situation? Be quiet, there's a good girl." - -Miss Crabb had hurried away to where Reynolds was seated. She was -intent upon getting the precise status of things. - -"Oh, you are way ahead," she exclaimed, in her clear high tones. -Then she seized the wreath of bay leaves twined by Mrs. Ransom and -forthwith laid it upon his head. - -"To the victor belongs the crown!" she added, laughing merrily. -"See, Mrs. Ransom, I've put your handiwork to noble use!" - -She was so innocently playful in her manner, that no one could deem -her act a rude one. It seemed almost fitting, at least permissible, -in view of the freedom of this little out-door convocation. But -Reynolds lightly doffed the circlet. - -"I am too earnest a democrat to wear a crown of any sort with due -dignity," he laughingly said; "besides," he added, "my dog is the -hero, not I." - -"Truth, every word of it!" cried Moreton, balancing a glass of wine -on the tips of his fingers. "Your tastes are most commendably -plebeian and proper. If Miss Crabb will but let me describe your -mountain hermitage she can fully appreciate your sturdy democracy. - -"Don't do that, Moreton, if you love me; my cabin is my castle and my -sanctuary," Reynolds answered in mock earnestness. - -It was an unlucky turn in the thoughtless conversation, for it sent a -current of uneasiness through the mind of Reynolds that made it very -hard for him to keep up his spirits to the level of the occasion. -The mere mention of those six years of mountain seclusion was enough -to awaken a whole world of distressing memories. Things known only -to himself came up to darken his mind. Miss Crabb's restless energy -and journalistic enterprise would not, however, allow him long to -grope among his carefully hidden secrets. - -"Now a thought strikes me," she exclaimed, as if addressing the -entire company; "can any one here sketch the least bit in the world? -What a fresh and charming illustrated paper the material I am -collecting would make for one of the magazines, if I could get some -truthful and spirited sketches from which an illustrator could take -his cue!" She rolled the end of her pencil in her mouth and awaited -an answer. - -"Mr. Reynolds is an artist," said Moreton with a sidelong glance at -his friend. - -"Oh, I'm so glad! Won't you help me, Mr. Reynolds? Just a half -dozen or so of striking local transcripts--a view of General DeKay's -house, a scene or two from the quail shoot, some character studies -and----" - -"You overwhelm me," said Reynolds, his face actually showing the -truth of his assertion. "I never could trust myself to undertake -such a commission; and besides," he added with a tone of suddenly -discovered relief, "I have no sketching materials with me." - -Miss Crabb became thoughtful, tapping her forehead with the back of -her note-book. Mrs. Ransom came to the rescue with a request for her -to help pass coffee to the gentlemen. The negro attendant had brewed -a pot of Java, the aromatic fragrance of which had been for some -minutes on the air. - -It would, indeed, have been worth while for an artist to have caught -the impression of the scene just then. The men carelessly standing -or sitting, with the young women ministering and the dogs lounging -idly around the outskirts of the group; the soft atmosphere, the -broad, airy landscape with the green-fringed silvery river winding -through the middle distance, the slumberous quietude and the deep, -dark forest rising yonder like a wall. - -After coffee the gentlemen went aside to light pipes and cigars. The -afternoon was well advanced before General DeKay proposed going to -the field again. Now and then a quail had been heard whistling in -the distance that far-reaching, energetic call of a straggler to his -scattered companions. A momentarily freshening breeze was fast -brushing from the sky the film of fleece clouds. - -The ladies voted that they were satisfied with what they had seen, -wished the sportsmen a merry afternoon and were driven back across -the rustling sedge fields to the old mansion. - -Reynolds turned, after he had walked some distance, and looked back. -The wagon containing the ladies was slowly trundling over a little -swell in the field. Mrs. Ransom's face was, he thought, turned -toward him. Involuntarily he took off his hat and waved it in the -air. Then he saw, or imagined he saw, something white flutter a -response from the group in the wagon. This little incident cost him -quite dear, for he failed to note, on turning about, that his dogs -had come to a stand in the weeds near by. A quail sprang up from his -very toes and whirred away quartering to his right, going like a -bullet. He fired and missed. Moreton took the bird on a cross shot, -stopping it beautifully. - -Reynolds' dogs looked at him with a sneaking leer in their eyes, as -if they felt the disgrace of their master. - -"That's one debt paid!" Moreton cried. "Credit me, will you?" - -Reynolds felt no interest in the sport. His vision was introverted, -his ears were full of sweet sounds, his heart was beating time to the -melody of his day-dream. He went down by the river and lay upon an -old mossy drift log, against one end of which the light current -rippled sweetly. There was a windy rustle in the reeds and a broad, -washing murmur came from the water. He could see but a little -distance along the river surface either way, owing to a short bend, -and the tall brakes on the banks shut out all else save an occasional -report from the guns of his more enthusiastic companions. His dogs -came and lay down near him, licking their muscular legs and glossy -sides, or nibbling at an occasional burr in their hair. So all the -rest of the afternoon he did not fire a shot. It was nearly sundown -when he again climbed up the river-bank and turned towards the house, -with not a bird to show for the two or three hours spent with dogs -and gun. But what to him were the poor trophies of a quail-shoot, -now that his passionate nature was stirred to its depths with a love -whose fullness and intensity left no room for another feeling or -thought? To be near Agnes Ransom, to hear her voice, to gaze into -her eyes, to bring the whole force of his will and the fullest power -of his eloquence to bear upon her, to win her, to take her, to -triumphantly hold her as his own, these were the desires, the -purposes surging about in his breast. He walked slowly back towards -the DeKay mansion, taking no heed of the beauties of earth or sky. -It was nothing to him that the low-hanging sun flung a glory over the -distant wood and touched the roof of the old house as if with a flame. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -MILLY INQUIRES. - -One day in the time of Reynolds' absence at General DeKay's, White -came down to Birmingham in his cart and Milly insisted so strenuously -on accompanying him, that she had her way. This led to an adventure -of a sort likely to impress itself deeply in the mind of an -unsophisticated girl of the mountains. She had given no especial -reason for wishing to visit the city, but White shrewdly guessed that -her desire to know something of the whereabouts of Reynolds was the -motive impelling her to so unusual an undertaking, for heretofore she -had always been very averse to going into Birmingham. - -When they reached town White gave Milly a pittance of money and said: - -"You go ter some store, Milly, an' buy ye some candy er a apple er -somethin' er other. When ye git tired er foolin' eround ye kin go -back ter the cyart an' stay ther' tell I come." - -She took the small pieces of silver without a word and allowed her -father to desert her. She suspected that he meant to deceive her and -go off to some gambling den; but she did not care. Her desires all -centered in finding Reynolds or hearing something about him. - -She strolled about from place to place in the street, innocently -staring into men's faces and quite as innocently receiving, without -shrinking, such brutal leers and winks as certain of the bejeweled -and over-dressed loafers bestowed in return. She went into a store -now and then, but, instead of asking for any article of merchandise, -she invariably propounded the question: - -"I wanted ter ax ef ye hed seed any thing o' John Reynolds 'bout this -yer town?" - -She spoke with such confiding earnestness of manner and with such an -appealing light in her eyes and such music in her voice, that she -attracted immediate attention from whomever she addressed. She -received respectful answers from the tradesmen. None of them knew -any thing about Reynolds, but some of them, touched in a sweet, -indefinite way by the inexpressible half-lisp of her childish voice, -and feeling the influence of her strange, yearning face and graceful -form, tried to draw her into conversation only to discover that she -became dumb so soon as she learned that they could not give her what -she sought. She turned solemnly away from each one and left him to -struggle out of the bewilderment she had unconsciously cast over his -mind. - -With absolutely no knowledge of the difference between a reputable -business street and a row of dives, she drifted here and there until -finally she met a man whom she at once recognized as Moreton, -although in fact he was a drummer for a wholesale liquor house of -Atlanta. She placed herself resolutely in his way, as he was about -to pass her, and said: - -"Air ye the feller 'at come to our house thet day?" - -The man, a tall fellow, not unlike Moreton physically, looked down at -this pleasing apparition, and for want of better response, said: - -"What day?" - -"Thet air day 'at hit rained so, an' ye tuck dinner, an' staid all -day. Don't ye 'member?" - -"Can't recollect you, sis: seems like I ought to though, by George. -What's your name?" He took hold of the brim of her coarse hat and -lifting it a little peeped under at her face, now suddenly pink with -blushing. - -"Ye know--I'm Mr. White's girl, up ther' wher' ye fotch the turkeys -thet air rainy day." - -"Oh, yes, I do recollect mighty well now, certainly. I fetched the -turkeys, yes. You are White's girl. I'm real glad to see you. -How's the folks?" said he, glibly. - -"We're all well," responded Milly. "I wushed to ax ye ef ye've seed -John Reynolds lately." - -"John Reynolds--John Reynolds, which John Reynolds do you mean?" he -inquired, with a show of having a dozen men of that name in his mind. - -"Hit air Colonel Reynolds, es pap calls 'im, an' he lives at our -house, an' ye know ye said he wer' yer bes' frien' an' 'at he wer' a -grand feller. Don't ye 'member? Well, I wush to see him." - -"Any thing of a furious rush about seeing him right off--eh?" He -stooped low enough to look into her strange beautiful eyes. "What do -you want to see him about?" - -She shrank uneasily and made no answer. Her pink lips quivered -slightly, as a flower's petals do when one breathes upon them. The -man's breath was foul with the fumes of whisky. - -"Oh, if it's private--if it's a secret between you," he resumed, -"why, of course, I don't intend to pry in; but as Reynolds and I are -chums, I don't see why you won't tell me." - -"I wushed to see 'im, that's all," she responded in a plaintive, -hesitating voice, putting a finger in her mouth and scraping the toe -of one coarse shoe back and forth on the ground. - -"Oh, I guess that he's rather keeping sort o' shady from you, just -now," said the man with a brutal smile. "He's got him another girl -now, he's not caring about seeing you very soon. I know what he's up -to." - -She shot a quick, almost wild look into his face, stared at him a -moment and then slowly inquired: - -"What air yer name?" - -He actually reddened with confusion, and was at a loss what to -answer. He saw that she had discovered his deceit. - -"I was just joking," he managed to say. "Never mind my jokes. If -you'll come with me I'll take you to Reynolds. He's just down here a -little ways. Come on, I'll show you." - -"Ye'r' not thet man--ye'r'----" - -"Oh, that's nothing: I was just fooling with you. Don't get mad. If -you get mad you'll not have any luck. Come on if you want to see -Reynolds." - -Her eyes had assumed a vague, distressed look and her lips quivered -again. - -"I wush ye'd go tell 'im 'at I wush he'd come on home," she said, -glancing uneasily around, as if afraid that some one would approach. - -"Guess you'd better go see him and surprise him like. He won't be -expecting you. He's just down here a little piece. Come on, if you -are going, I can't fool around all day," the man urged, an ugly gleam -getting into his eyes and his face showing its coarsest lines. - -"John wouldn't like hit ef I'd go ther' wher' he is," she responded. -"I hain't got no business a goin' down ther'. I'd be erbleeged ef -ye'd tell 'im----" - -"Tell him nothing," gruffly rejoined the man. "Come along, it's not -far, he'll be all right; he's a good fellow and not going to make any -fuss--come on. I'll stand between you and all danger--come on." - -"I don't wanter go, an' I haint er goin', an' ye mought as well quit -er talkin'," she almost doggedly replied, taking a step or two back -from him. He followed her with a devilish leer in his eyes. - -The street was a disreputable one and there was a narrow alley near -where they stood. - -"He's not caring any thing about you now; you needn't be so shy, I'm -not going to do you any harm. I'm the best friend you've got." - -Her strange, troubled face brightened a little. - -"Then, ef ye'r' my friend," she quickly said, "go an' tell 'im at I -wush he'd please kem home." - -The man laughed, looked at her quizzically for a time, and then in a -tone, half of vexation and half of amusement, said: - -"Well, if you aren't the dangedest curiosity I ever saw! You ought -to travel with Barnum." - -He gazed at her intently from head to foot, his face softening. - -"You've no business trotting around loose in these suburbs," he -muttered, more to himself than to her, then quite _solus_ he added: -"She's cracked: she's an idiot." - -Her vague troubled look now appealed to the other side of the man's -nature. "Do you know where you are? This is no place for you; where -do you live?" He put his inquiries in a voice so different from that -half-wheedling, half brutal one hitherto used, that she instantly -looked up with a gleam of trust in her eyes. - -"Where is your home?" he continued. - -"Over to the tother side o' the mounting, at Mr. White's," she -frankly answered. - -"Well, what are you doing down here among these saloons and dives? -Why don't you go home and stay with your mother? This is a bad place -for you." - -"I hain't er feared," she said; "I er a goin' down yer ter pap's -cyart. Pap an' me we kem ter town tergether. I jist stopped ter ask -yer ef ye'd seed John, that wer' all I keered about ye. Ye needn't -er be a frettin' yerself 'bout me." - -The man chuckled in a puzzled way and walked on, muttering to himself -something about the "dangedest prettiest idiot" that he ever saw. He -looked back a time or two to watch Milly as she carelessly strolled -along, her petite form showing its lithe, wild grace, with every -movement and her wisp of yellowish hair shining under her hat and -straying down over the back of her loose cotton gown. His eyes had -something of the wistful glare with which a cat gazes at an escaped -bird. - -Milly found her father's cart under a tree in the outskirts of the -town, the one kind-eyed, long-horned little ox contentedly ruminating -between the rude shafts. - -"W'y, ole Ben, air ye tired er waitin'?" she exclaimed, patting the -bony little fellow on the shoulder, "we'll be er goin' soon es pap -comes, won't we, Ben?" - -[Illustration: "W'y, ole Ben, air ye tired er waiten'?" she -exclaimed. _Page 129_.] - -She climbed into the shallow box of the cart and sat down on its -bottom with her head thrown back so that she could gaze up through -the tree-tops at the bright blue sky. A breeze, cool and sweet, was -stealing down from the mountains rustling the few dry leaves that -still clung to the branches overhead. She sang, in a thin childish -falsetto, snatches of the simple hymn-tunes she had caught from her -parents; but she got the words together in a meaningless confusion. -Her conception of a song of any sort rose no higher than a -consciousness of the pleasing sounds of the voice singing it. - -For a long while she waited patiently, now and then glancing down the -unkempt street to see if her father had yet come in sight; then she -stood up in the cart and looked. It was growing late. The sun was -slipping down behind the mountains and a cooler breath crept through -the valley. - -"Well, Ben, hit air no use er stayin' yer any longer, I 'spec' at pap -he air drunk. Git erp ther', Ben!" - -She had gathered up the rope guiding line and the gad that lay in the -box, and as she finished speaking she tapped the ox and drove away, -heading for the road that led homeward. The thought that her father -was drunk seemed not to affect her in any way. She soon resumed her -singing, and her aimless, wistful gazing at the splendid Southern sky. - -It was long after night-fall, but the moon was shining brightly, when -Milly drove up to the little front gate at home, and freeing Ben from -his yoke and shafts, turned him loose to browse on the mountain-side. -Her mother met her at the door. - -"Wher' air yer pap?" was the laconic inquiry. - -"Drunk, I 'spec'," was the answer. - -"An' er playin' of keerds," suggested Mrs. White. - -"Yes, I 'spec'." - -"Well, ef hit air seving up 'at he air a playin' ther' air sense to -hit, fer he gin'rally wa'ms their low down gam'lin' hides fer 'em, -w'en hit air seving up 'at he plays; but ef he goes in on ter any er -them tother games, he'll come home 'ithout ary cent inter his -pockets, mind what I tell ye." - -"I wush John 'd come home, that's what I wush," murmured Milly, -opening the door of Reynolds' room and going in to wander listlessly -about among his things. She touched his books, his pencils, his -brushes, his pen, and lingered about the easel upon which the dog -sketch still rested unfinished. - -It was nearly midnight when White came in good-humoredly drunk, -boasting of another victory at "seving up with them air gam'lers." -His wife had gone to bed, but Milly met him with her usual quiet -welcome and the formula expressing her predominant "wush." - -"Ye needn't er be 'spectin' the Colonel home for a week, Milly," he -said, as he lighted his pipe for a sobering smoke before retiring; -"fer he's gone away down on the Al'bam' River to Gen'l DeKay's to a -huntin' frolic with banker Noble an' his darter." - -Nothing save the very unusual amount of whisky he had been taking -could have induced White to say that and in such a tone. Milly -looked at him in a dazed, stupid way, her cherry underlip falling as -if from the weight of the information she had received. - -"Do he go wuth them air fine folks?" she presently inquired, in a -dry, doleful voice. - -"Ye'd think so ef ye'd see 'im," he answered. "He air high dinky -davy along of the best of 'em, I tell ye. Him an' that feller -Moreting what wer' here that rainy day do scoot aroun' with them air -silks an' ribbons an' jew'lry alarmin' to the saints." - -Milly put her hands together and rested them on her head with their -fingers intertwined. She appeared to be considering some troublesome -proposition. - -"Do ye s'pose them folks'll make fun of we-uns to 'im?" - -White chuckled. - -"I don't keer airy dam ef they do," he said, contemptuously snapping -his thumb and finger. "Let 'em sail in." - -"Well I wush 'at they wouldn't. 'Tain't none er the'r business 'bout -how we-uns looks, no how," she quickly replied. She looked over her -faded cotton dress as she spoke, with a hurried, dissatisfied glance. -She had seen some wonderful dresses in Birmingham. - -"No, hit tain't the'r business, thet's a fac', Milly," he responded, -ramming his pipe with his finger and wagging his head. "'Tain't -store clo's, an' jew'ls an' sich 'at meks folks honest an' -'spectable, hits in yer, Milly, in yer," tapping his breast. "We'r' -jest as good as any body, hain't we, Milly?" - -"Spec' so; dunno," she said, looking dully at him. "I wush he had er -staid yer an' kep' away f'om down ther'." - -"Hit air p'int blank no use er wushin' thet, Milly," he slowly and -firmly declared, "fur he air dead sot onto 'em an' he air a goin' wi' -'em. In fac', he air them sort er folks his own self, he air, Milly." - -The girl's eyes slowly brimmed with big tears, and without further -words she crept off to bed. White sat and smoked in a gloomy way for -a long while, his face showing more than usually gaunt and wrinkled -in the dim light of the flickering pine knots on the hearth. He -shook his head from time to time, as if dissatisfied with such -results as his thoughts produced. Once he spoke out rather fiercely. - -"Hit air a dern shame!" he exclaimed, in a voice so fierce and bitter -that it awoke his wife. And yet he was too simple-minded to dream of -the worst. With the queer pride of the mountaineer, he was viewing -the predicament simply from a social standpoint. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -DALLYING. - -The quail-shoot, after the enthusiastic contest of the first day, -abated to a sort of desultory skirmish, each sportsman going into the -field as best suited his mood. The weather bred a languor, -peculiarly Southern and dreamy, which was aided by the quietude and -isolation of the place. The bustle and activity with which the sport -had begun became irregularly intermittent. Day after day the sky was -serene and cloudless, tinted with that cool, bird-egg blue, tender, -delicate, transparent, against which the lines of wood came out with -a peculiar semi-tropical effect. Nearly all the time there was a -breeze, not the rollicking Northern wind that whisks things about, -but a fitful breath that palpitated lazily in the tops of the dull -old trees and stirred the vines and plants and dry, thin grass in a -fashion wholly indefinite and aimless. It was a luxury to idle -around in the shadowy nooks and corners of DeKay Place, where the -spirit of old times hovered like a vague, fascinating perfume. Life -lost its rough angles here, its outlines softening down to harmonize -with the monotonous equipoise of its surroundings. The river had the -charm of all low-country streams, a warm, slow, lagging motion, a -look of lapsing away into some strange, silent, unexplored region; -its murmur was a lingering, never quite ended good-by. - -To Reynolds those were days of deep and sweet excitement into which -now and then darted a pang like a stab in the heart. He was with -Agnes Ransom a great deal. Shy and strangely limited in conversation -as she was, he yet found her monosyllables and simplest phrases quite -enough to hold him to her side. She had not read a great deal of art -and literature, she had but fragmentary glimpses of knowledge, her -round of life had been confined to a small compass: still she seemed -to have gathered a great deal, and a depth rather than a width of -experience was in some subtle way suggested by her words and looks. - -Moreton was unreservedly happy. Born sportsman as he was, it must -have been a genuine old-time love that made him prefer sitting on the -veranda or on one of the rustic benches with Miss Noble to following -the pointers and setters afield under the cloudless sky and over-warm -beams of this waning, low-country winter. He also allowed himself to -become interested to a certain extent in the plans of Miss Crabb. -From his English point of view, this eager, outspoken, persistent -young woman, with her mingled air of freshness, alertness and -strangely hindered ambition, was a very novel and interesting study. -He recognized and respected the worthiness and purity of her aims, -whilst he could not keep from regarding her doings with a curiosity -little short of that with which he would have observed the gambols of -a rare species of monkey. He had not been long enough in America to -become indifferent to the oddities and sharp salients of American -character and our social contrasts and discords, nor had his tastes -resigned themselves to such breezy, democratic familiarity as Miss -Crabb insisted upon; but he was a good hater of shams, and her -genuineness appealed to him in its spirit if not in its manner. He -walked with her an hour back and forth on one of the long verandas, -scarcely aware how much he was promising when he agreed to make some -sketches for her. He had been, as the reader knows, an art-student -once, but had lacked either talent or industry or both, getting on no -further than to become a clever sketcher. Miss Crabb told him all -she knew touching every subject she could think of, even going so far -as to give the details of the distressing tragic circumstances under -which Mrs. Ransom had been made a widow. It was a sad story of a -mere girl marrying a handsome, dashing, rather reckless youth, who -led her a romantic life for a time and finally deserted her, going -away to Texas where he had been killed in a street fight with a -desperado at San Antonio. Such stories were rather common in the -South at one time. The first decade after the close of the war was, -in the Gulf States, one of humiliation, nervousness, doubt--a decade -that soured and vitiated many young lives, making almost outlaws of -youths who, under a milder influence would have been good citizens, -or at least, harmless ones. Sudden poverty, the stagnation of -agriculture and trade, the ebbing of all commercial tides, the swift -leveling of social eminences, and the desperation that followed dire -defeat, were supplemented and aggravated by political annoyances of -the most grievous nature. But the one demoralizing element most -active and potent was the prejudice, deep-seated and woven into the -very tissues of the Southern youth, against gaining a livelihood by -manual labor in plebeian employments. Of course it is no wonder that -this prejudice existed, indeed it would have been amazing if it had -not existed; but the result was the destruction of many young men who -really had in them the qualities that go, under ordinary -circumstances, to make up valuable citizens. - -Herbert Ransom came of an honorable and once wealthy family at -Pensacola, Florida. He was one of what has been rather familiarly -termed the "first crop of young men since the war," which means that -during the war he was too young to be a soldier, and became a man -soon after its close. He was bright, handsome, vain, unprincipled, -and yet he passed current in society and married Agnes DeKay, a -beautiful girl scarcely sixteen, whose father, a brother of General -DeKay, was very poor, very proud and very old. For a time the young -people lived a sweet, idyllic sort of life on an old plantation near -Mariana, Florida; but Ransom's restless, rollicking nature would not -be confined to mere domestic quietude. He tried speculation in -cotton with just enough success to lead him swiftly to financial -ruin. The plantation was sold at a great sacrifice and Agnes had to -return to her father, while Ransom went to western Texas with the -avowed purpose of looking after some wild lands belonging to his -father's estate, but really with no hope of ever again seeing his -wife. He had been gone nearly a year when the news of his tragic -death in a street fight in San Antonio reached his relations in -Pensacola. Soon after this Agnes' parents died and she was left with -an income barely sufficient to support her. She had no children, -and, with a widowed aunt, she lived in the old family homestead at -Pensacola, until General DeKay came and persuaded her to become his -adopted daughter. This meager outline of what seemed to Moreton a -most pathetic story, fell glibly from the lips of Miss Crabb, along -with sundry shrewd strictures upon social laws that render women so -powerless to struggle with adversity and neglect. - -"When a woman gets married," she observed, "she becomes helpless. -She plunges into the gulf of matrimony with a mill-stone at her neck, -so that she may be sure to disappear utterly. If she ever again -comes to the surface it is but to air troubles for which there is no -cure." - -"If that is the case," said Moreton, "if I were a woman I should try -and not marry." - -Miss Crabb laughed. - -"Oh, I presume there will always be a majority of fools among us," -she replied. "Silly girls and restless spinsters, ready to be -martyred for the mere romance of the thing; but you know, as well as -I, that this is an awfully one-sided world." - -"Yes, but you women make it so, don't you know, by decoying us over -to your side, thus destroying the equilibrium. If we were the -antipodes of each other, now, this would be a gloriously balanced -world! All the sorrow-making material on one side and all the -joy-bringers on the other!" - -"You are like the rest--you won't condescend to sensibly argue a -question with a woman. You must go off into badinage, as if a woman -could not understand and enjoy cogent reasoning. I don't like -insincerity, Mr. Moreton." - -"I beg a thousand pardons," he exclaimed. "I did not mean to be -insincere--indeed, Miss Crabb, I was under the impression that I was -making myself quite entertaining, don't you know, I----" - -She laughed again, a clear, honest, prairie laugh, throwing back her -head and holding up one hand as if to ward off something. - -"Oh, it's the same thing over and over. Wherever I go men look upon -me as a sort of monstrosity at large by some accident, because I -travel alone, just as a man may, and because I attend to my business, -just as a man does. It's really funny sometimes; I overhear what -they say. They comment on me. 'A cheeky old girl,' 'a newspaper -crank,' 'a stiff-minded female,' and 'a meddling nuisance,' are the -delicate and friendly epithets applied to me by men. One fellow at -the Cincinnati convention called me 'a bag of gimlets' to my face." - -"But then your absolute knowledge that the man was mistaken must have -ruined the point of his remark," said Moreton. "Conscious innocence -is an impenetrable shield." - -She looked up at him with a flash of momentary anger in her eyes, -then laughing again she said: - -"Oh, go on, I'm used to it, and, besides, I can't afford to quarrel -with you until I have your sketches in hand; you _must_ make the -sketches, Mr. Moreton: they will be invaluable to me. I want to get -on in literature, and the only way in which I can do that is to get -into the great illustrated magazines: they are the highways to fame." -There was a hungry, almost greedy ring to her voice, as if her -longing for literary recognition were rooted in her heart. Moreton -fancied that her lips quivered as she spoke. Her manner touched his -sympathy. - -"You'll get on fast enough, Miss Crabb," he quickly said; "your -energy and persistence and your capacity for work will take you -through, never fear." It was the best he could think of, though he -felt its utter inadequacy to her fancied needs. As he looked down -upon her his rather heavy, thoroughly English face wore a very kindly -expression. - -"But you don't know, Mr. Moreton, you can't imagine what a hard time -I have; how many ugly obstacles men put in my way, simply because I -am a woman. I don't see why they do, but they do. It's awful -sometimes." - -"They are brutes, they ought to be punched, don't you know," he -blurted; "they deserve no recognition by gentlemen." - -"Yes, but they _do_ get recognition," she replied, half-mournfully. -"They drink and smoke and swear themselves into prominence in every -walk of life--into fame, fortune, and----" - -"Oh, not so bad as that, I hope," he interposed. "Don't be -discouraged. George Eliot and Georges Sand and----" - -"They are not American women," she interrupted in turn, "and they -have never tried editing a country newspaper or writing for a New -York magazine. They were rich, or had influential friends, or made -people believe they were men." - -"Well, suppose you try adopting a masculine pseudonym, you might----" - -"Never!" she exclaimed, with a little stamp of the foot. "Never! I -shall win my way as a woman or not at all." - -Moreton was beginning to comprehend, in a measure, the really -pathetic hopelessness of Miss Crabb's intellectual predicament. To -his mind she appeared a heroine with a self-imposed task quite as -great as that of Joan of Arc. Like Joan, she must at last be man's -victim. He could see the stake set and the fagots heaped for her -already. It now seemed a mighty blessing of providence that she was -not beautiful, that she was positively ugly and not at all likely to -attract men. He had the English admiration for pluck and he felt a -great desire to help her; but there was no way. Evidently she did -not possess any genius and was only gifted with a shrewd, quick mind -and a hungry imagination. She was mistaking notoriety for just fame -and was deluding herself with the belief that her burning desire for -success was proof positive of her power to succeed. Nevertheless her -attitude was heroic and he wished her a better fate than was sure to -befall her. - -"But you must not commit the folly of setting yourself against men," -he presently said, his voice taking on a persuasive tone; "you must -recognize their power and the necessity of winning their confidence -and help." - -"I have tried that turn," she replied with a short laugh that had a -ring of derision in it, "and it's no use. A woman must have beauty -before she can influence men. All the wisdom of Minerva could not -have compassed what Cleopatra's----" - -"Hold," cried Moreton, with an affectation of lightness which he did -not feel, "you are slandering my sex, or, at least, I am an -exception. Not that I don't admit the power of beauty, but you put -the rule too savagely, don't you know. Why, you really frighten me -with your suggestion of masculine depravity!" - -She laughed and changed the subject. They continued walking to and -fro and chatting in a broken way with the sough of the wind and the -swash of the river filling up the spaces. - -"Some day," she said, recurring to the subject always uppermost in -her mind, and turning to leave him, "some day my ship will come in." - -Moreton breathed freer when she was gone. Her state of ferment, of -restless effort, tired him. - -Two or three hours later when he and Reynolds sat by a window of the -latter's room, smoking cigars, he said: - -"Miss Crabb told me something a while ago that surprised and touched -me." - -"Well, what was it?" inquired Reynolds, gazing dreamily out into the -brilliant, moonlit night. He had just been for an hour talking with -Mrs. Ransom and was now mentally going over again every word of the -charming conversation. He was in love, he knew it, and was reveling -in the luxury of it. Her sweet face and low, rich voice, her quiet -grace of manner, her slender, supple form and that indescribable, -mysterious half-sadness in her eyes and smile, had fired his -imagination and filled his blood with a gentle tumult. Never before -had the moon and stars and the grand expanse of heaven looked so -lovely to him; never had the world seemed so good; never had life -seemed so precious. Being in love is a trite thing, and may be going -out of fashion, but it is worth experiencing once, at least, in every -lifetime, as a test of the imagination, if for nothing else. - -"She gave me an account of Mrs. Ransom's troubles," said Moreton. -"It seems that hers has been a rather rough cruise." - -Reynolds clamped his cigar between his teeth and looked up. - -"I know, I know," he said, in a half-impatient voice. "Her husband -deserted her." - -"And was murdered out on the Texas border," added Moreton. - -"Murdered," said Reynolds, as if weighing the word. "There has been -a great deal of that sort of thing in Texas." - -"In this instance," Moreton went on, "I fancy that the murder was all -for the best. Poor little woman, how she must have suffered under -such treatment as that young villain gave her. Pity that all such -fellows don't go to Texas and get a hole bored through them!" - -Reynolds smoked quite rapidly for a few seconds, with his eyelids -nearly shut together, a barely perceptible grayish pallor spreading -over his cheeks. Presently, in an even and steady, but very strange -voice, he said: - -"She is a lovely little woman, Moreton, a sweet, warm-hearted, true -and noble little woman. I love her, Moreton. I'm going to marry -her, if I can." - -"Good!" exclaimed Moreton. "I'm glad to hear that. She will just -suit you, make you a charming wife. I hope you'll find your way -clear, old fellow." - -For a time they both were silent, each thinking of his own love, and -gazing out into the almost blue-black depths of the star-sprinkled -sky. A gentle swashing sound came from the river along with the -fragrance of pine-needles and the odor of turpentine. Somewhere, -seemingly at a vast distance, an owl now and then laughed, as if from -a sepulcher. - -"My way seems clear enough," Reynolds at last said, "if I can -understand her; but she is an elusive little woman, shy and -incomprehensible at times." - -Moreton laughed. - -"They all are that way--it's a part of woman's nature to be -inexplicable, don't you know, deuced inexplicable. Now there's that -Miss Crabb: I never saw such an enigma. She's a man and a woman and -a little school-girl, all in one." - -Reynolds got up from his chair and began walking to and fro, his head -thrown back, his hands clasped behind him. He frowned and pressed -his lips over his cigar so that deep furrows came on each side of his -mouth. - -"Being in love appears to render you gloomy," Moreton lightly -exclaimed, as he glanced into his friend's face. "Love is like wine, -it makes some men surly whilst it makes others merry. Now I----" - -Reynolds waved his hand impatiently and said almost abruptly: - -"If she really loved her husband, in the first place, it must have -been a dreadful ordeal she went through." - -"Oh, she must have been very young, scarcely more than a child," said -Moreton, as if hurrying to relieve Reynolds, if he could; "and I -should think she has outgrown it in a great degree, by this time. -She seems quite cheerful and in superb health." - -Reynolds turned as he came near the middle of the room, and facing -Moreton, appeared on the point of saying some momentous thing. A -gloomy cloud of excitement had settled on his countenance. His lips -faltered at the point of speech, and with a strange smile he resumed -his pacing to and fro. Moreton's eyes followed him with a look of -puzzled interest. Presently he laughed outright and exclaimed -chaffingly: - -"You make me think of that little girl of White's when you look like -that, Reynolds. Your eyes are for all the world like hers, with -those mysterious sad shadows in them. What the deuce is the matter?" - -Reynolds' countenance changed abruptly; he essayed to laugh, but -there was no sincerity in the effort. He shook his head and answered: - -"My head is all in a whirl and I believe I am excited; but you must -remember that I am hard hit and awfully in earnest." His attempt at -making light of his show of feeling was not more successful than his -laughter had been. He saw that Moreton felt its hollowness, and he -made haste to add: "It has always been thus with me. I am a creature -of extremes, a straw in the currents of passion." - -From Moreton's rather phlegmatic point of view, this excitement was -something inexplicable. He saw no reasonable cause for it in the -situation, and his mind at once reverted to certain indications of a -secret trouble observable in Reynolds ever since their first meeting -in Birmingham. Naturally enough the rather strange home chosen by -Reynolds amid the sterile mountains and among the rude, uninteresting -mountaineers, came up to emphasize Moreton's suspicion that all was -not well with his friend. - -"What especial current of passion is tossing you just now, to render -you so restless and moody?" Moreton demanded. "One would think you -were meditating something as dark as suicide or assassination." - -"Oh, I'm all right; I don't mean to do any thing diabolical, I'm too -happy for that; give me another cigar, mine are locked up in my bag." -He pulled himself together as he spoke, and laughed in a way so -careless and natural that Moreton felt a sense of disappointment at -having inwardly to acknowledge himself baffled, if not mistaken. - -They smoked and talked until late, enjoying the lulling coolness of -the night air coming in at the open windows. Reynolds was -exceedingly cheerful, and when they separated for the night he said: - -"If you have as sweet dreams as I expect to indulge in to-night, tell -me in the morning, will you? Good night." - -But Moreton, who slept lightly, awoke now and then, and heard him -walking to and fro all the rest of the night. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -A BIT OF LOVE MAKING. - -The party at General DeKay's broke up gradually, some of the -sportsmen going away on the morning of the day following the quail -shoot, the rest taking their departure in groups or singly, as -business necessitated or a sense of propriety dictated. At last the -Nobles, the Beresfords, Miss Crabb, Reynolds and Moreton were the -favored remnant, lingering at the old plantation to enjoy, as long as -possible, the sweets of its almost arcadian life. - -Notwithstanding the great change wrought by the war, the DeKays had -been able to hold on to a picturesque residuum of their former wealth -and to keep up a fair show of that hospitality which had once been -almost unlimited. The guests of the mansion felt the perfect freedom -given them, and so the days went by without a circumstance to hinder -their enjoyment of every moment. - -Uncle Mono was a source of great amusement to every body; his banjo, -his songs, his stories, his peculiar philosophy and that -individuality of thought and expression, so often exhibited by old -negroes, making him especially interesting to Moreton and Miss Crabb. -His life had been so saturated with slavery's influences that -freedom, coming to him after he had passed the meridian of life, had -not been able to change him much. - -Along with his other gifts, Uncle Mono was a fortune-teller whose -fame held the admiration and the awe of all the negroes at highest -strain. He could tell when it was going to rain and when the wind -was going to change as well as he could predict the kind of -sweetheart the future would bring to the inquiring youth or maiden. -In fact he was the seventh son of a seventh son, and not a drop of -white-man's blood ran in his veins. - -"I's pyo' blood dahky f'om away back," he was fond of saying. "None -yo' yaller niggah 'bout me. Nuffin' I 'spises mo' 'n one o' dese yer -no' 'count clay-faced merlatters. Steal! Dey des steal de sole of -'m yo' shoes! No sah, I's pyo' blood dahky." - -Sometimes, when the evening air chanced to be warm enough, the guests -and the household would assemble on one of the wide verandas and send -for Uncle Mono to play for them while the gentlemen smoked their -pipes and cigars and the ladies promenaded back and forth to the -brisk tinkling of the banjo. They all enjoyed the touch of old-time -custom when a number of the plantation negroes, young and old, crept -up to within a respectful distance, looking on and listening. - -The nights were superb, the splendor of stars or moon and sky adding -an almost weird sheen to the gray fields and silvery river. The -pronounced atmosphere of isolation which broods over all those large -low-country plantations gave to the guests at DeKay Place a -comforting sense of liberty, as if the restraints of conventional -life had been dissolved and dissipated, or had never come here. - -Some swings had been made of huge muscadine vines brought from the -woods and suspended from the trees on the lawn. The young women, -especially Miss Noble and Miss Crabb, found swinging most -exhilarating sport. Moreton watched Cordelia as she oscillated, like -a gay pendulum, in the soft night-light under the dusky boughs, until -his heart timed its beating with her movements. He enjoyed every -phase of this delightful subtropical episode in his life. It did him -good to see Reynolds returning to something like his old-time -youthful enthusiasm and cheerfulness. - -Among them all it was silently noted how Mrs. Ransom and Reynolds -were drawn towards each other. - -"Dunno 'bout dat big, dahk young ge'man flyin' roun' de young missus -no how," muttered Uncle Mono to his colored companions; "seem lak -mebbe she better look sha'p 'bout 'im. He sort o' 'sterious lookin' -young man anyhow." - -Miss Crabb for some reason failed to win favor with the negroes. She -was very much interested in them and tried hard to study them; but -her inquiring manner and insistent tones of voice did not touch their -warm African hearts. On the other hand, Miss Noble was a prime -favorite with them all. - -"Bress dat sweet chile," said Uncle Mono, "she jes' lak de ripe peach -on de eend ob a limb, she sort o' glimmer an' look too good fo' to -pull off an' too ripe fo' to let erlone." - -"Dat same lak what de young boss f'om way off fink, I 'spec," -ventured a colored listener. "He look at 'er 'mazin' sof an' hongry -lak." - -"Wha' yo' know 'bout it?" stormed Uncle Mono. "Wha' business yo' got -fo' to be a watchin' dem whi' folks? Fust ting yo' know yo' git yo' -backbone wa'med up wid a stick! Better not be peekin' 'roun', _I_ -tell yo'." - -"Ef yo' lak what yo' call peekin'," replied the other, with a comical -grin, "jes' cas' yo' eye on dat young leddy dat's got de leetle book -an' pencil; _she_ kin' peek fo' de Lor' sake!" - -Miss Crabb was pretty well aware of the delicacy of her situation, -or, to put it fairly, the indelicacy of it; but she had gone too far -to retreat. She must brave it through to the end. - -It chanced that Moreton discovered Miss Noble's pique at Reynolds -because of his neglect to fulfill his promise to teach her the art of -handling a gun. This gave him a most excellent excuse for offering -himself as her instructor. He borrowed Reynolds' little gun and made -the most of his opportunities. His patience was unbounded and Miss -Noble's zeal unflagging, so that between them they squandered a great -deal of time down on a little open plat between the house and the -river, banging away at an improvised target. As for Reynolds, his -promise to Miss Noble was entirely forgotten by him. His love for -Agnes Ransom had crowded every lighter thing from his consciousness. -General DeKay and Mr. Noble remained faithful to the object of the -occasion, pursuing the birds with dogs and guns each day with -unremitting ardor. Young Beresford and his sister, after a most -commendable effort to stem, with a show of good natured indifference, -the tide setting against the passion of one and the pride of the -other, went away, taking with them, much against their will, the -unflagging Miss Crabb, whose pencil had filled the little red book -with pot-hook notes of what she had seen and heard. - -Miss Crabb had failed, however, to get any sketches from Moreton. He -had, at last, begged her to release him from the obligation of his -hasty promise. - -"I did not think," he said to her; "I did not once think of -the--the--the propriety of the thing, don't you know, when we were -talking about it; but it would offend every one here. These people -are peculiarly exclusive--very proud people, Miss Crabb, and they -would take it as a gross breach of hospitality. I am very sorry, and -I hope you will not--not----" - -"Oh, no, certainly, I see," she exclaimed, in confused haste. "It's -all right, Mr. Beresford--Moreton I mean, it's all right, I assure -you; but do you think they'll care for my writing them up? I don't -see how I can afford to waste all this material. It'll work up so -charmingly." - -"I don't pretend to advise as to that," Moreton evasively answered. -"You needn't send them any copy of your paper. It takes any thing -new a century to get here, if it isn't especially sent. Use your own -good editorial judgment, Miss Crabb." - -"Yes, of course," she responded, thoughtfully adjusting her gloves, -"it is a matter of business, a matter of bread and butter with me. I -must make every edge cut." She was silent for a moment. Presently -she looked up quickly and keenly, adding in a thin voice: "If one -writes for the public one must write what is of interest. One can't -afford to stand on small proprieties. I can't, at least: I'm poor." - -Moreton had ready no response. He felt an impulse toward putting his -hand into his pocket to give her some money; but of course he did not -do it. Never before had a look conveyed to him so sudden a discovery -of the hard lines of the life of a woman who is thrown upon her own -resources for earning a livelihood. It suggested to him a phase of -human struggle hitherto quite shut out of his imagination, however -familiar to Americans. - -"Well, good-by," she presently said, with an almost cheerful smile. -"I wish I could stay here always: this is pretty near my ideal of -what a home should be." She cast a slow glance around her, letting -her eyes linger on the picturesque old mansion and its embowering -trees. Moreton fancied that her face betrayed a feeling of weariness -and failure, as if her enthusiasm had suddenly vanished. - -"Good-by, Miss Crabb, I wish you great success," he responded, -cordially taking her hand. It was the best he could do. - -"Thank you," she quickly replied. "I am determined to deserve -success, at least; but it is a long way off, I sometimes fear." She -turned to go to the waiting carriage, but faced him again and added: -"This has been a most charming experience to me. What a sweet, -restful life it must be living here. I almost envy--I almost covet -Mrs. Ransom's lot. I have had such a hard----," but she did not -finish the sentence. "Good-by," she repeated, and went away. - -Moreton felt a pang of sympathy for this poor girl, though he had no -very definite idea of what her struggles, her hopes and her failures -might be. It was enough for him to know that she was good and honest -and earnest, and that she felt the hardship of some galling -limitations. - -"Will she ever come to any thing? Is there really any chance for a -person like her in this country?" he inquired of Miss Noble a little -later, as he sat by her side on a rustic seat under some trees by the -river. - -"She may make a hit, as it is termed," was the answer. "Some of them -do, and then, if she will make the most of it, she may get to where -life is easier; but at best she can not hope for much." - -"It seems queer and pitiful to me," he said, after a moment of -thoughtfulness, "that so good and kind a girl as she evidently is -should have to do such things. Her situation has deeply touched me." - -"That is because you haven't been used to it. Young ladies probably -do not report for the press in England," replied Cordelia. "It is a -very common thing for them to do it here." - -Moreton smiled, as one who gives up a sentiment rather reluctantly is -apt to do, and said: - -"Still I would rather not see it; she appeared out of place, somehow." - -"She was quite out of place here; but she has become so used to -overcoming such obstacles that she easily evaded any sense of the -impropriety of invading the privacy of General DeKay's---- - -"No, I beg your pardon," hastily spoke up Moreton. "You do her -wrong. She _did_ feel very keenly that she was _de trop_, that she -wasn't just free and welcome, don't you know. I saw it--she almost -acknowledged it to me, in fact, and I felt downright sorry for her." - -"Poor thing!" exclaimed Cordelia, her voice softening with the sudden -change in her quick sympathy. "Poor girl! and we didn't try to help -her or to make her feel easy. I hate myself for it. I see how mean -I have been. It would have been so easy to have smoothed things for -her, too!" - -Moreton felt a temptation to seize this warm-hearted, impulsive girl -and press her close to his breast. Indeed he had a right to be -sorely tempted, for she was a strong, lithe, blooming maiden, whose -steadfast honesty and purity glowed in her eyes and on her lips. -Then there was the dreamy sunshine and the checkered shade and the -softly rippling breeze to add to his mood, and yonder was the -slumberous river lapsing away between its brakes. But he satisfied -himself with simply looking at her and allowing her beauty to freshen -and sweeten his heart. - -"I suppose it is selfish and narrow," he presently said; "but I am -heartily glad that all of them are gone--that we are left alone -together, aren't you?" - -She laughed, but she blushed as well, and looked away from him as she -answered in what she meant for a very careless tone: - -"Oh, I like company and bright talk and the excitement of numbers; it -exhilarates me. This will be a dull old place, now that the party -has dwindled down to four or five. I hope my father has almost run -the gamut of his cartridges." - -"Not a dull place," he said with a peculiar emphasis, "a dreamy, -fascinating place, rather. The river yonder, see how it glimmers, -and this breeze; I never was so happy at any place as I am here and -now. There is a sort of mystery in the influence of things around -us." - -She looked at him with a quick inquiry in her clear eyes, as if to -discover whether or not he was jesting. Something in his bold yet -tender gaze parried her glance and her lids dropped. She drooped her -head and shoulders a little, too, as if under some suddenly imposed -burden. - -"Aren't you very happy here?" he went on, leaning a little toward -her. "I want you to be very happy." - -"Oh, yes, I'm always happy. I never was unhappy in my life," she -answered with a show of vehemence, instead of the careless lightness -that she intended should appear. "I'm never serious enough to become -sad." - -Moreton looked at her with tender fervor, the power of love full upon -him, and yet the silly rhyme kept ringing in his brain: - - "The light of her eyes, - And the dew of her lips, - Where the moth never flies - And the bee never sips." - - -Truly love-making has all of human nature in it, from the grandeur of -extreme exaltation down to the mere piping of sheerest nonsense; but -the nonsense for the time, is just as sweet as any part, so much does -it borrow of the rapture of the occasion. There is comedy of a -slender sort in it, which it seems a sacrilege to separate from the -sacred part, and yet we all are tempted into poking quiet fun at the -big, strong men who awkwardly dabble in love's sweet stream. So few -of them can come boldly down to the current and at once arrest it and -have their will of it outright. - -"What would you do if you were poor, like Miss Crabb, and had to face -the world and struggle for life?" he asked with an absurd -inconsequence in his manner and voice. - -"I can't imagine such a thing," she quickly answered, "I really -can't. It would be very, very hard, no doubt. But I sometimes think -I might be of more use, that my life is quite empty of real value. I -shouldn't know how to do any useful thing." - -"You might make some one happy. That would be good." - -"I have no knack; I am selfish, frivolous, intent upon my own -happiness," she said, looking up with a bright smile. - -"Just a word, sometimes, is better than any other alms," he continued. - -"Eleemosynary cheerfulness and breath of charity, as our good -minister is fond of calling it," she responded with a gay little -laugh. "I do sometimes try to be agreeable and bright, just to -please people." - -"That's mere social clap-trap, it doesn't mean any thing. It must be -genuine, don't you know--come right out from the heart. You must -really desire to make some one happy." - -There was something in the vehemence of his voice and manner that -caused her to look into his eyes with a quick change from her -careless levity to a puzzled gravity of expression, that would have -amused a disinterested observer. - -"How much would you do to make me very happy?" he went on, speaking -as if the question might be one of life and death. "You would like -to make me happy, wouldn't you?" - -"Why do you ask that--what----" Her eyes had drooped and she made an -unavailing effort to lift them again to his face. Here was his -opportunity. - -"Because I love you, love you better than all the world, Cordelia," -came his hurried response. His arms made a quick initial movement, -instantly arrested, for the place was not just suited to any violent -demonstrations; then he added, breathlessly: - -"Do you love me, Cordelia?" - -She glanced rapidly around, as if expecting to find in the landscape -some relief from the embarrassment that flooded her cheeks with -blushes. Just then, Reynolds and Mrs. Ransom passed down the pathway -leading from the mansion to a little landing on the river, where a -small boat lay moored. They were too much absorbed in conversation -to notice the lovers, though they could almost have touched them as -they went by. Miss Noble remained silent, watching Reynolds assist -his graceful companion into the boat and draw in the little painter. -Suddenly she looked up and very demurely said: - -"They're going for a row on the river: why didn't we think of that? -I delight in going out on the water." - -"You would take a profound delight in any thing just now that would -help you to avoid answering my question, wouldn't you?" he grumbled. -"You've forgotten what it was I inquired about, haven't you?" - -She laughed in a low, clear way. Reynolds and Mrs. Ransom, lightly -startled by the sound, turned their faces quickly and waved a -greeting, as they glided out upon the placid stream. They appeared -very happy. - -"I shall not be put aside so lightly," he went on; "I can't bear it. -You must answer me, Cordelia." - -"Answer you what?" - -He sprang to his feet, and stood gazing down at her with his face -actually pale with emotion. - -"You don't mean it? You can't mean to drive me from you in this -way?" he cried, his voice a little husky. - -"Sit down, do, they're looking at us--they'll know what it is," she -murmured, making a deprecatory gesture with her hand. - -He obeyed, saying rather ungraciously as he did so: - -"What if they do know? We needn't care, they're no better. Reynolds -is nearly crazy about her; he means to propose to her as soon as -they're round the curve." He could not help laughing a little at his -own absurdity. But Cordelia pretended to pout. - -"You should not say such things about Agnes; she doesn't deserve your -levity." - -"I didn't say any harm of her," he hastened to reply. "I spoke of -Reynolds: he is very much in love. You do not blame him for thinking -a great deal of her--I don't blame him at all. I think it is deuced -clever of him, don't you know." - -She rose as if to go away. - -"Come, now, turn about is fair: you made me sit down again when I got -up," he said, catching her hand and gently pulling her down beside -him. - -What further was said between them has never been gathered from the -sweet wind that bore their fragmentary murmurings away among the old -trees and down the silvery windings of the river. I presume that, no -matter how much the circumstances of courtship may differ, true love, -in the hey-day of youth, or in the vigorous prime of life, has -certain constant quantities by which it may readily be known; and one -of these is so sweet that, to one not personally interested, it -narrowly misses being entirely too sweet for deliberate discussion. -John Ruskin has, I believe, more than suggested an amendment to the -ordinary methods of love-making, but lovers seem inclined to follow -the old, familiar rose-scented plan, no matter how silly it may -appear to superannuated philosophers and art critics. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -AT THE RUIN. - -Reynolds had been shut away from society for so long a time that he -had returned, in a degree, to the susceptibility and receptivity of -extreme youth. We grow like what we contemplate, is a very trite -truth, and he had absorbed much of the outright simplicity of the -mountaineers, without losing any of the character he had long ago -formed. Self-knowledge may be very valuable, but self-study does not -tend always toward happiness. One might almost venture to say that, -in a vast majority of cases, serious self-analysis amounts to remorse -if nothing worse. Moreover, one usually chooses solitude in which to -erect one's furnace and laboratory of self-criticism, where one may -make the heat as high and protracted as one pleases. The result is -usually a mass of unsightly slag instead of the fine and precious -metal one has hoped to turn out. Hence it is that a hermit returning -to the world after years of seclusion and self-delusion finds it a -paradise when he had expected to see it a hell. Men and women are so -much purer and stronger and nobler than he had pictured them, and all -the ways of human social life are so much sweeter and fresher than -his diseased brain had remembered them to be, that he sloughs his -crust, like a serpent, and comes out a new man. - -The doctrine that evil experiences are ever of value, or rather that -a baptism in sin ever worked a positive good to the recipient, is too -dangerous to be received; but it sometimes appears that there is an -annealing influence exerted on character by the intense heat of -uncontrollable passions, tempering it at last to the highest degree -of sensitiveness and susceptibility. Reynolds was aware, in a vague -way, of the change so rapidly going on within him. It was as if his -nature were putting forth a tremendous spurt of power with which to -eject from its tissue the evil of the old life. What a mystery there -is in remorse and repentance and reform! But how much greater the -mystery of evil, that terrible, invisible acid, combining with all -the bases of human nature and disintegrating every crystal of beauty! -How shall the stream of a life, once defiled, be purified? The -simplest reagent will disclose the presence of sin, but what process -will eliminate it? - -The Hand that made the mirror must remove the spots of tarnish. - -Love is always the gateway of a new life. When its purple mists and -its wafts of heavenly perfumes come upon its victim his whole nature -feels as if the ultimate sources of impulse had been cleansed, -sweetened and electrified. New needs, new aspirations, fresh hopes -and the dewy vigor of morning leap into the heart. Ah, then how -bitter is the memory of misdeeds! Just then if Satan would get -behind and forever disappear, what a relief! What a joy if all the -past could be wiped out, as with a sponge, and existence be left to -date from the advent of love! - -The meeting of Reynolds and Mrs. Ransom was much more than the -ordinary contact of life with life, whereby the spark of passion is -generated; it was significant of a blending of their past experiences -as well as of the creation of a new life for both. Even on the -instant when a mutual interest was awakened, their minds flashed back -over the past. No doubt love ought to be prospective always; but it -can not often be so. - -Agnes Ransom could not realize that she was a widow. It was more as -if a very sweet romance of her experience had ended in sorrow and -disappointment. She looked back upon the short space of her wedded -life with a vision dimmed by mists and shadows. She was half aware -that her nature had gained much and lost little by the experience. -It all seemed very sad to her, and yet she felt that the sadness was -rather an atmosphere of the past than of the present. It hovered -somewhere behind her, it did not affect the future. Still there was -a protest somewhere, gentle and weak, but quite troublesome, against -this new, strong, imperious, wayward love, now rising in her bosom -and anon sinking away almost into the depths out of which it had -come. She trembled sometimes with a great fear, at other times she -abandoned herself to it with a serene fullness of content. - -Close to the river's bank, all overgrown with wild vines and darkly -shadowed by clustering trees, there stood, distant about a mile from -the DeKay place, an almost shapeless pile of brick and stucco, the -ruins of a once stately Southern mansion. It had been burned, -whether by accident or the work of an incendiary is not known. Some -tragic legend was connected with its history--a vague story of -hereditary feud, bloody encounter, the gloom of crime and the solemn -hush that follows after violent death. It was not a story ever told -by a DeKay, for it affected the history of the family a generation or -two ago. The very oldest negroes on the plantation knew something of -the dark outlines of the tragedy; but they had learned not to more -than vaguely hint the extent of their knowledge by equivocal -allusions and dubious generalities. The affair dated back to the -early Alabama days, when slavery was in its most prosperous state in -a financial way, and when chivalry, so-called, was at its zenith. -The ruin, with its picturesque walls overgrown with vines, was a -fitting monument of the decay of medieval customs in the South as -well as of the downfall of a once proud and in many ways brave and -generous family. - -It was towards this pathetic pile that Reynolds pulled with vigorous -oar-strokes, as he and Mrs. Ransom set out upon the river from the -little landing at DeKay Place. Unconsciously and with the ease that -comes of great nervous and muscular force, made ready by his recent -years of healthful habits and out-door training, he put such impulse -into the little craft as made it leap like a skipping fish, leaving a -whirling wake behind it, gleaming and darkling in sun and shade. He -had not yet spoken of love. Indeed his heart was so full of this new -and sweetly stormy passion that he could not master it sufficiently -to clothe it in words. He was ever at the point of speaking and ever -faltering and holding back his voice. So he found a relief in great -muscular exertion. It was love thrilling along his nerves and sinews -that made his arms tireless. He felt as if each long, strong sweep -of the oars were bearing Agnes and him away from all the rest of the -world, away from the past and into a sweet, shadowy solitude like -that which the imagination has, in all ages, seen swimming on the -furthest horizon, and towards which all lovers have hopefully but -vainly steered their dream-ladened barks. - -A sense of unworthiness repressed and almost smothered, a strong -conscience bound down and enveloped in the fire of passion, these -would make themselves felt in a dull, heavy, indefinite way. He -could not shake off for long at a time a consciousness that all this -deep, sweet, strong happiness flooding his soul to bursting, was -ephemeral, and would vanish at the touch of the first sinister _faux -pas_ by which the past might be uncovered. - -Mrs. Ransom, in the after part of the boat, sat facing Reynolds, her -lissome figure in an attitude of almost childish carelessness and -grace. She was, apparently, as unaware of her rare charm of person -as was he of his immense physical power. It is one of the -wholesomest of out-door influences that eliminates, for the time, the -frivolous conventionalities of social life, and establishes in their -stead something of the freedom of the wind and the transparent -freshness of running water. Nature, by some occult process, reaches -our hearts and sponges off the sediment of artificial sentiment, so -that the simpler elements of life are set to work in us without any -hindrance. Given a boat, a calm, clear river, fine weather, a man -and a woman, youth, strength, health, and what an infinitude of -happiness may be expected! It is often the case that human -experience is, under such circumstances, condensed to the last degree -of denseness, or expanded to an ethereal tenuity never dreamed of in -the hot-house narrowness of city life. Out-door realities are so -strong and dreams are so wide and fair where the sun shines and the -air is full of balm and the water flows with such a liberal, -far-going murmur. Tragedy has a broader and deeper significance -enacted without any stage limitations, and comedy catches a sparkle -from the brooks and the daylight and the starlight, never reflected -from gas jets and painted backgrounds. - -Very little was said between Mrs. Ransom and Reynolds in the time it -took to reach a place where they could land near the ruin, their -conversation confining itself to observations on such little -incidents as happened during their quick flight. Once a flock of -wood-ducks sprang in a rapid whirl from the water near them and -winged their way up the stream, their bright colors shining with a -peculiar twinkle, as far as the eye could follow them. Little -shadowy sandpipers ran along the sandy margins, here and there, or -flew across from bank to bank with their comical jerky motion. In -some places the reeds grew down to the water's edge in dense brakes -wherein the hermit thrush and the catbird could be seen by fitful -glimpses. The rapid movement of the boat kept changing the point of -view, and at each change some new arrangement of the trees, the cane, -the tall dry stalks of water grass or of the bold banks of the river -attracted the eye. - -Reynolds felt the stimulus of his passion tingling in his blood. His -bronzed cheeks wore a faint flush and his eyes were full of earnest, -tender light. He stranded the prow of the boat on a little crescent -of sand at the foot of the bluff and helped Mrs. Ransom out. She had -directed him where to land, and now he turned to her and asked: - -"Now, how shall we get up to the top of the bluff?" - -"There is a sort of stairway yonder by that old tree," she answered, -pointing with her hand. "It is badly dilapidated, but we can climb -it easily." - -Somewhere, not very far away, they heard the booming of General -DeKay's and Mr. Noble's guns. The sport must have been fine, for the -shooting was rapid. - -They found the stair--a zig-zag flight of crazy steps, leading up to -the plateau above. In order to reach its foot, they had to stoop and -creep under the low-hanging boughs of a tree. Reynolds took hold of -her arm to help her. On a sudden impulse she freed herself from him. -A thrill had come with his touch, and something like fear took -momentary possession of her. She fled nimbly up the steps ahead of -him, as if she meant to escape him entirely. He scarcely noticed her -start and her haste, for some vines and tangled branches hindered him -and disturbed his vision. When she emerged into the sunlight of the -level space on the bluff, Mrs. Ransom stopped, ashamed of her foolish -flight, and turned about just in time to look straight into the eyes -of Reynolds, as he was surmounting the topmost steps. - -"I beat you climbing," she exclaimed, her voice shaking a little from -the effect of her exertion. - -"I feared you had left me for good and all," he replied; "but how -pale you are! Was your effort too violent? Are you ill?" - -"Not at all," she responded, the negative phrase peculiar to the -Southern people falling with a sort of breathless readiness from her -lips. "Am I really pale?" - -"Perhaps not," he said, seeing the rosy light coming into her cheeks -again. "I only imagined it; but it is a difficult place to climb, -and you came up like a bird. You shouldn't take such risks: it is -dangerous." - -He looked about for the ruin. A tall, heavy chimney-stack rising -above a tangled mass of wild vines and trees answered his inquiry. - -"Come this way," she said, leading on; "there is a path, further up -the slope, that goes round to the entrance." - -He followed her quick movements, and soon she stopped before an -arched doorway in the old semi-circular transom of which a few pieces -of stained glass still remained. On either hand stood fragments of -stuccoed pillars all festooned with vines. She paused but for a -moment, then went under the arch and passed from roofless room to -roofless room with the swift, certain step of one quite familiar with -the place. Every where the ivy and wild grape vines had draped the -crumbling walls and heaps of rubbish, so that, in places, bowers as -fanciful as those of fairy-land, made a sweet crepuscular gloom, -though the foliage was mostly gone. He tried to reach her side, but -her quick turns and elusive movements kept her all the time just -ahead of him, and her sweet voice came back to him, as if tossed to -him over her shoulder, luring him on and on, in and out through the -labyrinth of rooms. Once she stopped for the merest moment to look -out, through a ragged opening which had once been a window, down upon -the placid face of the river. He came close to her and bent low to -gaze over her shoulder. She felt his breath on her neck. - -"How lovely!" he murmured, in that deep, rich voice which always -vibrated so strangely in her ears. His moment had come. - -"Lovely," she echoed, and slipped away, like some shy, wild thing -afeard of its own voice. - -Reynolds was burning with a desire to speak to her of his love, and -she, hardly knowing why, felt a sweet dread of him. She tripped -along through what had been a broad hall and turned into an open -space where some of the walls had crumbled into a great heap around -the base of the stack of chimneys. Here it was that suddenly a man, -wild-eyed, shaggy-headed, ragged and gaunt, sprang up before her in a -menacing attitude with a heavy pistol in his hand. She gave one -little chirruping scream, threw up her arms and sank in a crumpled -heap to the ground. Reynolds sprang forward with a loud ejaculation. -His movement had all the appearance of a furious attack upon the -startled ruffian, who, in sheer self-defense, as he thought, raised -the pistol and fired. Reynolds felt the blow and the dull pang of -the bullet in his right shoulder. The man did not fire again, but -turned and fled through the nearest opening. It was all so sudden, -the whole thing happening within the space of half a minute, that no -one of the actors had time to get more than a glimpse of the -situation before the act was ended. The ruffian, as was afterward -ascertained, was a condemned murderer who had escaped from jail just -the night before he was to have been hanged. No doubt he was lying -asleep when the approach of Mrs. Ransom startled him, and thinking it -was an attempt to recapture him, he had fired and fled. The sound of -the shot roused Mrs. Ransom from her half swoon and she leaped to her -feet. Reynolds put forth his hand and touched her on the arm. - -"Be calm--don't get scared, I can protect you," he said, but he could -not see her. A cloud was in his eyes and a reeling sensation in his -brain. - -She looked up into his face and saw how deathly white it was. - -"Are you hurt?" she quaveringly asked, taking a step nearer him. - -He mumbled some unintelligible answer, felt blindly about in the air -with his hands, staggered, gasped hoarsely, and fell at full length -upon the ground, face-downward, arms outspread, and lay quite still. -Suddenly, to Mrs. Ransom, the silence of the place became awful, -dense, impenetrable. She screamed, but her voice seemed not to go a -yard from her lips. She stood for a moment with clenched hands, her -face pinched and thin, her eyes fixed upon the prostrate form of -Reynolds; then she threw herself down beside him and tried with all -her might to turn him so that she could see his features; but he was -so heavy and she so weak that her effort was vain. She called for -help until her voice became thick with hoarseness. - -"Oh, is he dead?" she wailed, "is he dead? Oh, won't some one come! -Must he die now! Oh, and I love him so--love him so!" - -It was as if her grieving words called him back from lifelessness, -for he moaned, sighed deeply, and by a violent struggle turned -himself on his side with his face toward her. He opened his eyes and -looked inquiringly at her for a time, then he closed them with a -weak, tremulous motion of the lids. She clasped his head in her -arms, and summoning all her strength, lifted it upon her lap. The -blood was beginning to ooze through his saturated clothes and trickle -on the ground beside him. It almost crazed her to see this, but she -was as powerless as a child to help him. She could but bend over -him, and, brushing the dark heavy hair back from his forehead, where -cold beads of sweat had risen, kiss him again and again in the -ecstasy of her excitement. He was not unconscious now, but he was -limp and nerveless, his immense vitality slowly gathering itself for -the effort to recover equilibrium. Faint almost unto death as he -was, he felt the thrill her kisses sent throughout his frame, and he -did not note the pain of his ugly wound. - -"Oh, you must not die, you must not die!" she wailed, in a sobbing -voice. "Open your eyes for my sake, John--for my sake, do you hear, -for I love you so!" - -He heard every word, but he could not open his eyes or move his lips, -though slowly and surely his strength was coming back, despite the -rapid loss of blood. - -The pistol ball was a very large one and it had made a bad, almost -fatal wound, having passed through his shoulder and a part of his -chest, barely missing the lung. The shock had had a paralyzing -effect, causing the insensibility from which he was rallying. - -It was a striking picture they made grouped against the dark -back-ground of the old wall, with the dim light falling over them. -If a broken spear and a cloven helmet had rested hard by, it would -have served well for a tableau of medieval days, a lady nursing the -head of her fallen knight within the crumbling ruins of some battered -castle. - -"Why _did_ we ever come here! Oh, love, my own love, open your eyes! -Speak to me: say you will not die, you will not die!" - -Her words, so insistent, so despairing and so passionate, filled his -consciousness with an all-satisfying sense of happiness. He could -scarcely understand why she should not be willing to let him lie -quietly and listen to her, for he had not recovered himself -sufficiently to be able to grasp the reality of her suffering or of -his own condition. - -"Speak to me, speak to me," she kept reiterating, until at last, like -one freeing himself reluctantly from a sweet dream, he moved his -lips, making no sound at first, but presently saying: - -"Where are you, Agnes?" - -His voice was so strange and so low that she could not catch his -words. She bowed her head so that her face almost touched his. - -"What is it--what did you say?" she tenderly asked. - -He put up his left hand and swept it over her cheek and down along -her shoulder. Then, as his wound began to pain him, he groaned in a -suppressed way. - -"What ails me? What--ah, the shot--he hit me, I know--I remember -now," he said, beginning to gather strength. "Let me sit up." - -With a strong effort he raised himself to a sitting posture and -smiled feebly. - -"I have called and called, but no one will come. What shall we do?" -she cried, wringing her hands and gazing helplessly at him. "Oh, why -did we ever come here?" - -"Be calm, darling," he said, looking fondly at her, the wan smile on -his face growing more intense. "I will show you that I am a man -worthy of your love." Then he arose and stood up, tall and beautiful -in his strength, before her, seeming to defy his wound and its pain, -though his face was pale as death. - -"Come," he added, "let us go to the boat and return to the house. -Come, I am strong now, and I love you, Agnes, my own little -woman--come with me." - -He caught her with his unhurt arm and drew her hard against his side. -With a swift, firm tread he went with her down to the landing, never -faltering or wavering until he had fixed himself in the stern of the -boat and directed her how to paddle out to the middle of the stream. - -All this time he had been losing blood and his pain had been -excruciating. He had made a grand effort, and now the reaction came -with a power that he could not resist. He sank back with his head -resting on his arm and lay there as white and lifeless as if dead. -She thought him dead, and sat there numb and motionless, letting the -boat drift with the gentle current. Every thing about her appeared -shadowy, misty, unreal. Her heart scarcely beat. Why was it that, -in the midst of this awful trial, there came to her mind a vivid -memory of the short romance of her married life down on the old -plantation by Mariana? Some of those days were dreamily happy ones -with her wild boy husband--the days before discontent and trouble -came. Why would the reckless blue eyes and curling, yellow hair -waver before her, between the strong, pallid features of this man -whom she now loved with such fervor? - -Slowly the boat drifted on in the sunlight, between the reed-covered -banks, bearing its strange load down toward the DeKay place. It was -a dark touch with which to end so charming an idyl as the past few -days had been; but life in the South favors the tragic and the -melodramatic: it is the life of passion and of sudden changes. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -A WHISPER IN THE CABIN. - -One day, while Reynolds was gone to General DeKay's, White came home -from Birmingham perfectly sober and with no gambling story to tell. -Milly met him at the gate, as usual, with the same pitiful look of -patient inquiry in her eyes. He chucked her under the chin and in an -uncommonly cheery voice said: - -"He air comin' home right away soon, Milly, I hev hearn from 'im -straight. Go an' drive up the steer fer me, won't ye? I want er -haul er jag er pine-knots purty soon." - -"I don't b'lieve he air a comin', no sich a thing. I dremp he wer' -married, an' thet's a sign o' death. How d'ye know he air a comin'?" -She spoke almost pettishly, looking fixedly at her father, whose pale -eyes wandered aimlessly from object to object. - -"I seed Mr. Noble, thet banker down ther': he hev come back. He said -ter me, says he, 'The Colonel, he an' Mr. Moreting air comin' nex' -week,' thet's what he says ter me." - -Milly let her eyes fall and began digging in the ground with the toe -of one of her shoes. - -"Thet young lady, thet Miss Noble down ther', hes she kem back?" she -presently asked. - -"La, yes, she hev," quickly replied White. "Bless yer life, yes, she -kem with 'er pap. Oh, yes, she kem too, she did." - -"What meks John stay so long?" - -"Oh, him? w'y he's a havin' a stavin' ole time er shootin' quails an' -a drinkin' er fine liquor an' er smokin' good seegairs. Don't yer go -to blamin' him fer stayin' awhile down ther': hit air a good place -ter be at, yer better think." - -"Seems like he mought never come," she murmured, and there were tears -in her eyes as she started to go and fetch the ox. - -White went into the house and shut the door. - -"I hev a bad secret to tell ye," he said to his wife, "an' I don't -wan't yer ter let Milly know airy breath about it, nuther." - -"Well, less yer what it air." - -"Ye won't tell Milly?" - -"Nairy word." - -"Sarting an' sure?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, the Colonel he air shot." - -"Shot?" - -"He air." - -"Shot?" - -"He air, sarting." - -"Goodness! an' who tole ye?" - -"Thet banker, down ther' at town, Mr. Noble, he tole me. Hit wer' a -feller 'at broke jail 'at done hit, a outdacious murderer, down yer -at some other town, 'at wer a goin' ter be hung, an' some friend of -his'n helped 'im ter break jail an' give 'im a pistol, an' he put out -through the country. Hit seems, f'om what thet banker down yer says, -'at the Colonel were a galivantin' off to some lonesome ole house wi' -a widder 'oman, 'an thet feller he wer in ther an' jes' shot 'im -down." - -"Goodness alive! Hit didn't kill 'im? The Colonel he hain't dead?" - -"No, not dead, but he air bad off. He air laid up in bed. He hev -got a hole through 'im." - -Mrs. White began filling her pipe with great energy, her husband -following her example. There was a space of silence, then he said: - -"We hev got ter lie ter Milly fer all that's out. Hit'll never do -fer her ter know it 'at the Colonel's hurt. She'd go 'stracted." - -"She mought jest as well. Hit air no use er foolin', he's not goin' -ter hev 'er." - -"Hev her! Hev _her_! w'at upon the airth are ye talkin' 'bout?" - -"She loves 'im." - -"Milly? _She_ love? _She_ love _him_?" - -"Ye-es, she-e lo-ove hi-im!" drawled Mrs. White in a high key, -wagging her head with each word. - -White looked at her in utter consternation. - -"Thet leetle silly gal love _him_? W'y she air no more'n a tom-tit -er a hominy-bird ter be a lovin' the Colonel. Shorely she hain't -gone an' been no sich a dang fool es thet!" - -"She hev." - -"How d'ye know?" - -"Hain't I got no eyes, ner years?" - -"Ye hev, sarting, an' a tongue." - -"Now, smarty! Ye think ye've said somethin'!" - -"Beg parding. But this yer stuff 'bout love, hit air a bad thing. I -commence ter see into some er Milly's cur'us notions, ef thet air's -the case. But dang ef I b'lieve sech a thing." - -"Well, hit air the case, an' there's more ter come. Ye hain't hearn -the wo'st part." - -"An' what d'ye mean by thet?" - -"I mean a heap, thet's w'at I mean." - -"A heap er what?" - -"Ef ye'll promerse me on yer wordy honor ter keep still tell I say at -ye may go free, I'll tell yer w'at." - -"I promerse, sarting." - -"On yer wordy honor?" - -"Yes." - -"I'm erfeard ye'll go ter bein' a fool an' makin' a fuss 'fore I -whant ye to. 'Cause ye see, hit mayn't be es bad es it mought." - -As Mrs. White said this, White looked searchingly into her face, and -what he saw there caused him to move uneasily and puff his tobacco -smoke nervously. - -"What is this yer what yer a hintin' at, anyhow?" he demanded, almost -fiercely. - -"I hain't erbleeged ter tell ye, an' I'll jest never do hit er tall, -ef yer a goin' to be er fool an' high-rantin' aroun' like er eejet er -somethin'." - -"Didn't I promerse ye? Hain't thet enough? Ef hit tain't, what d'ye -want me to do?" - -"W'y I whant ye ter never say er word ter nobody 'bout w'at I tell -ye, tell I say so, not a single word, nor do a thing 'bout hit of any -kind. Do ye promerse?" - -"Yes." - -"On yer sacurd wordy honor?" - -"Yes, dang it all, go on!" - -"Now I'r a goin' ter tell ye somethin' at air orful, an' I don't know -w'at to do erbout hit. But 'member, yer promersed me." - -"Yes." - -"Ye'll keep right still, an' never say a word, er do a single thing -erbout hit?" - -"Yes, I tole ye thet, long ago, 'bout a dozen times. Go on, an' say -what yer a goin' to." - -They were looking at each other, as people do who are about to -experience some grave domestic crisis, Mrs. White's sallow face had -suddenly taken on a hot flush, and her eyes looked worried and hollow. - -"I d'know hardly how ter say hit with my mouth," she falteringly -began. "I wush I never hed a been born'd, no how!" - -Tears came into her eyes and her lips quivered. - -White leaned over close to her, taking the pipe from his mouth, and -said in a low, hoarse voice: - -"What air the matter, wife?" - -"Oh, a heap, a heap air the matter!" she sobbed. - -White put his hand on her shoulder and brought his ear close to her -lips. - -"Tell me now, I want er know," he gently and gravely urged. - -She whispered something in a rapid, sobbing way. Not more than a -dozen words, but White's face shriveled as if with a great heat. He -drew back from her and glared like a wild beast. Not a sound came -from his writhing lips. His thin jaws quivered. - -"'Member yer sacurd wordy honor," said the woman. "Ye promersed me, -ye know." - -He got up and tramped aimlessly around the room. Presently he took -down his long flint-lock rifle from its rack over the door, and blew -into its muzzle. - -"Ye'll not brek yer wordy honor?" she insisted. - -He put the gun back and came and sat down by her again. Just then -Milly opened the door and entered the room carrying her coarse -sun-bonnet in her hand. The exercise of fetching the ox down from -his browsing place on the mountain side had put a bright color in her -cheeks, and the wind had been tossing her pale, straw-gold hair so -that it hung in elfish tangles about her neck and shoulders. She -scarcely glanced at her father and mother. - -"I hitched 'im out ther'," she said, referring to the ox, and passing -on into the kitchen, went by that round-about way into Reynolds' -room. She was very sly, but they heard her moving about, and knew -she was once more re-arranging his things. - -They looked at each other with something of that hopeless, dazed -expression often observed in the eyes of the lower animals when hurt -to death. Milly had left the outer door open and the cool mountain -air poured in, rustling vaguely such loose articles as its current -could stir. - -Little more was said between the man and his wife, for there seemed -nothing to say. A cloud had settled over their compressed, barren -lives. Nothing in their natures was ready or flexible. They stared -at fate, as they stared at each other, with the hopelessness of utter -bewilderment. - -Days went by, days of that languid, cloudless weather which comes to -those mountains in early February, and the little household of the -cabin went through the dry, spiritless round of duties, as if some -spell had fallen upon them. True there was no marked visible change -in their way of life; that was impossible. The limitations of human -action nowhere else are set with such rigid immutability as they are, -and perhaps always will be, in those cramped, unfertile, almost -barren mountain regions of the South. No advance, no retrogression -(save where here and there a railroad brings its little whisky -centers), all is stagnant, dull, dry, hopeless poverty. Illiteracy, -sterility, and that stubborn conservatism which is born of them, rest -like an atmosphere around those poor people. They move and breathe -and are stolidly content. - -When a month had passed and Reynolds had not come, Milly, who had -been kept in ignorance of the true state of affairs, began to show -stronger signs of disappointment. She was restless and anxious, -wandering about the house or leaning upon the gate, silent, sad-eyed, -expectant and hopeless by turns, a source of deep trouble to her -parents. - -Now and then White attempted to cheer her up, but the words seemed to -come dead and meaningless from his dry lips when he would say: - -"He air a havin' a outdacious good time down ther', he air, an' he -don't like ter quit off yet. Jest ye wait a day er two an' 'en ye'll -see 'm a comin' up yer, Milly, a comin' up yer----" his voice would -most usually fail him, but he would go on: "Yes, he air comin' back -purty soon, when he hev hed all the shootin' he ken git." - -Such statements, reiterated so often, lost a large part of their -reassuring power, but Milly liked to hear them, and they were the -best that he could do. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -A DISCLOSURE. - -The day following that on which Reynolds received his wound brought -letters to Moreton from his home in England, with intelligence of the -sudden death of his father, and a request for him to come at once. -This summons was so urgent and peremptory that nothing short of -immediate departure could be thought of. So he went; but not without -Cordelia's promise to become his wife, and not before he had reached -a full understanding with Mr. Noble on the subject. It was hard for -him to break away from the sweet meshes in which he was entangled, -and hard for him to leave Reynolds lying there pale and emaciated, -with little more than the breath of life in him; but he could not -stay. He promised to come back within two months, little thinking at -the time that he would never see Birmingham again, or at best for -some years to come. But so it was. When he reached England he found -that the best interests of his father's estate required the sale of -the American property, and that he would have to give his entire -attention to the home affairs. - -Soon after Moreton's departure Mr. Noble, following the fashion of -thrifty Americans, seized upon a most favorable offer and changed his -place of abode to New York City, where he became the chief of a -strong banking establishment in which he had hitherto held a -subordinate interest. So that by the time that Reynolds was -beginning to gather strength and to forge well past the point of -danger from his hurt, he was left alone with the DeKay household. No -invalid ever had more careful nursing or had thrown around him more -charming influences. General DeKay gave his entire time and -attention to ministering to the needs of his guest, appearing to feel -that, in some way, as a host, he had been careless and thus to blame -for the almost fatal misfortune to one of his party. He had formed a -great liking for Reynolds, beginning no doubt with the young man's -excellent shooting in the first day's sport, and made stronger by the -manly qualities and magnetic influence he possessed in a marked -degree; and this liking shaped itself during Reynolds' illness into -an attachment very rarely engendered between men. - -Mrs. Ransom, after the first great shock of the adventure had spent -its force, exhibited a quiet courage and fortitude in strong contrast -to her girlish weakness up at the ruin. She was tireless in her -efforts, hopeful, even when the doctors doubted, and cheerful when -every one else appeared ready to despair. She seemed to rely, with -perfect confidence, on Reynolds' power to overcome the effect of the -hurt, and when his enormous vitality began to assert itself, she went -about the house with a gentle smile on her lips and a serene light in -her beautiful eyes that told how her heart rejoiced. To know that he -was under the same roof with her and that he loved her and that he -was getting well, filled her with a contentment little short of -perfect happiness. She was not an intellectual woman, as the phrase -goes; she knew little of the world's philosophies and sophistries, -but she was a true woman, full of feminine sentiment, cleverness and -earnestness: shy, wary, elusive, and yet outright and artless, at -times, as any child. Her beauty was of that rarer Southern type -which is the opposite, in most features, of the fiery, passionate, -voluptuous, tropical model which has been unjustly copied into art -and literature as the representative one. - -Beauty that shrinks from self-advertisement and delights in blooming -in a sheltered place where the light is never over-strong, secretes -such essence and fragrance, takes on such modest and delicate color, -and holds about it an atmosphere so subtly individual, that it is not -within the power of brush or pen to portray it so easily and -effectually as it may that other and coarser and possibly more vital -sort. It is this beauty that a pink ribbon to-day or a bunch of -violets to-morrow, or any other simple bit of adornment, seems so -perfectly suited to as to appear a part of the wearer. If Agnes -Ransom was rather below the best womanly stature, the casual observer -would not have noticed it, for her bearing was high and her -development strikingly balanced, or rather, so evenly balanced as not -to be striking, and her movements had the smoothness and rhythm of a -perfect lyric. She was a woman whose love would be of lasting value -to a true man, and to love whom would generate nothing lawless or -short-lived in the masculine nature. If Cleopatra stands as one type -of eastern beauty and passion, Ruth stands as another. A woman like -Agnes Ransom may be taken as representing very fairly a certain class -of Southern women who carry about with them, even in old age, a -girlishness and simplicity, combined with a shyness and exclusiveness -often mistaken for either prudery or unfriendliness. Plantation life -is, to an extent, a lonely one in a climate where it is possible and -pleasing to spend much time out of doors, and where all the -influences of out-door nature tend to generate repose. One can not -but observe what seems to be the effect of these influences in -determining the physical and mental contour of the Southern girl. -She is slender, well developed, lithe, graceful, rather inclined to -repose, not strikingly intellectual, has strong domestic inclinations -and bears about with her an air of provincial innocency and naïveté -that has a marked flavor of the isolation and the freedom of the -plantation. Mrs. Ransom had been very little in city society; a -winter in New Orleans and a few visits to Savannah limiting her -experience beyond that obtained from a residence in the dreamy, -isolated little old place of her birth, Pensacola. She was not a -Catholic, but the rudiments of her education had been obtained in a -convent, and something of that demure quietness and quaintness of -manner characteristic of the nun had remained with her. No doubt her -short and trying married experience had modified her charms of person -and character to an interesting extent, adding an inexpressible value -to her beauty. A trace of lingering sadness, slight but always -present, gave a mild emphasis to the purity of her face and the low -music of her voice. Such a woman could not fail to touch the heart -of a fervid and passionate man like Reynolds, whose whole nature had -been introverted for years, and whose life had been so long repressed -and stagnant. - -During the half delirium of his fever, while the inflammation of his -wound was at its worst, he lay and watched her come and go, his -heated vision making an angel of her about whose ethereally lovely -form halos and rainbow colors played fantastic tricks. Sometimes the -apparition was double, and then one of the angels took the form of -poor little Milly White, whose haunting, hungry face flashed with a -heavenly light. But as he grew stronger and the fever left him, it -was Agnes Ransom, the pale, sweet, earnest little woman, that -controlled his every thought. He was content to lie there and -patiently wait on nature's slow work so long as she hovered near. He -felt securely fixed in her love. Every word, that in the stress of -agony, she had uttered up there in the ruin, lay like some divine -germ in his heart, growing and strengthening with every moment. He -did not seek to have her say more and he said little himself. When -she fetched flowers from the out-door conservatory, grand cream-white -and blush camellias, roses, jasmine and violets, and arranged them on -the odd little mahogany table by his bedside, he would whisper some -tender phrase of thanks and love, and then she would sit by the -window and read aloud to him some forgotten romance, such as is to be -found in every ancient Southern library. Happy invalid! to have such -balm for his wound! And so the days of his convalescence drew by, -not in pain and fretfulness and impatience, but freighted with the -richest gifts of love. He was like one in some favored nook of fairy -land, realizing the tenderest visions of dreams. - -One day, near the first of March, when he had grown able to sit -propped up on a sofa by a window, whence he could look out over the -broad landscape to where the sky came down to the tufted woods, or -turn his eyes upon short silvery bits of the river, he said to her: - -"I shall soon be able to go away. I feel my strength coming back -with every breath." - -She looked up from the needlework that she chanced just then to have -in hand, and, with one of her slow, sweet smiles, shook her head. - -"You must not begin to hurry. You must be patient, ever so patient. -A moment of haste might cause a month of trouble. You can not afford -to run any risks." - -"Oh, I am patient," he replied. "I really find myself dreading to -get well, selfish wretch that I am. Do you observe that I never take -into consideration the immense trouble I am causing all of you? I -think of nothing but the charmed life I am living--the sweet comforts -I am receiving." - -"I really believe you are getting well," she said. "When you talk in -that strain I know you are but trying to hide a longing for your -mountain air and the freedom of your hermitage." - -"You do me wrong," he responded, with an earnest resonance in his -voice. "I am so content to be as I am that when I go to sleep I do -not even dream of being well." - -"I am glad of it, for the doctor says that a quiet mind is the best -salve for a healing wound." - -"You had better not convince me that the doctor is right, for I might -be tempted to get restless in order to prolong my period of delicious -convalescence. Beware, if you don't want me lolling in easy chairs -or propped on cushions and pillows for you to minister to all the -season." - -"Oh, I shall know it if you begin to take on the air of a -professional invalid, and shall discharge you at once," she -exclaimed, with a light laugh. "You won't be interesting as a--a -sham! I hate shams and deceits and hidden things of every sort." - -He looked at her with such a sudden, though barely noticeable change -of expression in his eyes, that her quick intuition told her of some -serious thought that had leaped, unbidden and unwelcome, into his -mind. - -"Hidden things," he said, with a peculiar smile. "Hidden things are -often much better hidden than disclosed, and it is a mercy to the -world that secretiveness is one of the strongest elements of human -nature." - -"Perhaps so," she said, growing grave and thoughtful. "But it would -be so much better if there were never any need to exercise one's -secretive faculties." - -"Oh, a dormant faculty would be contrary to the economy of nature. -Even confession catches a precious fragrance from the transgression -long hidden away. Conscience would not even be ornamental, much less -useful, if it bore no treasure of sins known to it only." He spoke -in an airy, idle manner, but there went with his tones a ring of -something not quite pleasing. - -"You shock me," she exclaimed, in perfect earnestness, a cloud -gathering in her eyes. "I hope you do not believe in such ugly and -dangerous doctrines." - -Immediately he gathered in his straying thoughts and crushed down the -memory that was nagging at his consciousness. He felt with sudden -clearness how easily he might turn away from him the confiding -earnestness of this sensitive woman, and attract from her instead the -interest born of a doubtful sort of fascination. - -"I don't believe in them," he smilingly answered. "I was merely -giving rein to an idle whim of the moment. On the contrary, I -believe in perfect frankness in all things. Confession and -forgiveness are together the safety-valve of society, as they are -chief among the Christian virtues." - -"Yes," she said, with a sort of relief in her tone. "There is as -much to ask as to grant in that law. I could not quite respect -myself if I should deceive any one, and I should feel it a triumph of -duty over the strongest bias of my nature if I should thoroughly -forgive one who had willfully deceived me." - -"But you would forgive such an one," he hastily exclaimed, looking -almost eagerly into her eyes. - -"I should feel it incumbent upon me to try with all my might," she -responded. - -"One who would deceive you in a matter of any moment," he observed, -with a warmth and vehemence that fairly startled her, "would deserve -never to know forgiveness. He would be a monster outside the -limitations of the Christian code." - -"You shouldn't say that," she replied, a pink spot appearing on -either cheek. "It would be a great deal worse to deceive some one -more ignorant and much weaker than I. I have had many opportunities, -denied to a large number of young women. I ought to know better how -to evade the evils of falsehood and deceit." - -Reynolds did not speak for some minutes. A swell of the fragrant -south wind came through the window, and the first mocking bird of the -season was singing in a magnolia tree at the further angle of the -house. The drowsy charm of spring's earliest stirrings hovered in -the sky, the air, the far-spreading fields and the shimmering -glimpses of water. Something like the warning of a distant, scarcely -audible voice was ringing in his ears. Below his dreamy happiness he -could feel the beginnings of a vague uneasiness. - -"I know, I know," he presently said, and he did not realize the -almost brutal directness of his words, "yours was a bitter and -burning disappointment. You deserved every thing that you hoped for, -nothing that you received." - -Her face grew pale and flushed at once, so that the spot on either -cheek shone like carmine on a milk-white ground. She looked -helplessly at him with her lips slightly parted and her eyes beaming, -as if through a haze. - -"Oh, I have pained you!" he exclaimed, with such a penitent and -sorrowful intonation that she made a weak effort to smile. "Forgive -me," he went on rapidly. "I seem in an unfortunate groove to-day. -You know I would not wound you for the world." - -"It relieves me that you have said what you have," she replied, after -a pause, "for it tells me that you know my past. I wanted you to -know, and I could not tell you. I did not see how I ever could begin -or how----" - -"Let it pass, let it go by like the wind," he murmured; "the future -is all ours, we will make it as pure and lovely as the sky yonder, -won't we, love?" - -She crossed her hands in her lap and smiled on him with tears in her -eyes. How grand and beautiful he appeared to her, reclining there, -with his stalwart limbs outstretched and his manly face beaming with -love. It was a quick, uncontrollable impulse that caused her to say, -with a tender tremor in her voice: - -"I wanted you to know that I loved him and that if he were alive now -I would still love him, notwithstanding all that has happened." - -"Yes, yes, that is all right, all right," he quickly responded. "It -is sweet of you to feel so; but he is--he is not alive, you know, -and--" - -"Sometimes I have dreamed that it is not true--that he is not dead, -but may be living yet. I never could get the particulars, the -country was in such turmoil and he was so far away. Somehow the -thought has haunted me that some day he will come back." - -A strange grim look settled on Reynolds' face. - -"He will never come back," he said. - -"No," she replied, "I know he will not. It is foolish for me to -allow the thought to enter my mind, but it will, and I can not drive -it out." - -"You must, Agnes, you must," he exclaimed with a rush of passion, -"for my sake, love, for my sake." - -She sat for a moment in silence, and then, as the tears welled up -afresh in her tender eyes, she replied: - -"You know how gladly I would, but I can not. It grows upon me -since--since I have known you, and it will not be banished. -Sometimes I find myself actually going to the door to look--" - -"Hush! Oh, Agnes, I can not bear it," he cried, his face growing -pale with extreme excitement. "My God! I shall have to tell you -all." - -"Tell me all?" she plaintively, inquiringly murmured, looking -wonderingly at him, for something in his voice, his face, his manner -had given to his words a mysterious power. - -"Yes, I will tell you, though it drive me from you forever. I see -that I must, that it is my duty." He paused and hesitated. "I -know," he went on, "that I am rushing into the dark, but I trust you, -Agnes, and I know you will do right--you will do no hasty thing. -Remember, oh, remember how I love you." - -"I can not understand--what is it you mean?--what--" - -"No, you can not understand, but you will; it requires but a -sentence." Again he faltered, and with his eyes fixed upon hers in a -way that almost terrified her, seemed to be rapidly choosing his -words before continuing. - -"I am the man who fought with your husband, and--" - -"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, holding her hands out toward him, her -face ghastly. - -"Yes," he resumed, "yes, it is so. He was to blame. He forced it -upon me. I could not escape him. He would have killed me." - -She let her hand fall in her lap and sat in a helpless, horrified -attitude. - -"You will hate me now, Agnes, but I have disclosed my secret and my -dreadful duty is done. For the sake of my great love, say no bitter -word." - -She did not speak. How could she? Such a disclosure coming so -suddenly and unexpectedly and from his lips, crushed her into that -silence which is next to the silence of death. - -He trembled now and his voice broke as he said: - -"Do you see how hard it is? I refused to fight with him, because I -did not believe in the practice of dueling, and then he forced an -encounter in the street of San Antonio. I did every thing to avoid -him, but I could not. I had to--to do what I did. Can you -comprehend, Agnes?" - -Still she remained speechless, motionless, bowed down and awfully -pale. - -"I don't want to make any unmanly excuses--I would spare him for your -sake; but he was all in the wrong, and it would be----" - -She stopped him with a quick gesture. - -"I can not hear this now--I am too weak and excited. I must go. -Excuse me. I _must_ go." She arose almost with a spring and passed -swiftly out of the room. - -A feeling of desolation swept, like a breath of noisome air, through -the breast of Reynolds. It was as if the whole world had become a -desert and his life a dreary, void waste. And yet there was a sense -of relief, as if a great load had been cast aside. A load indeed, -but not all the load he carried. He tried in vain to feel that his -whole duty was done. He hid his face in his hands, but he could not -shut out the truth. His whole past life lay like a fiercely -illuminated panorama under his inward gaze. Ah, by what a zig-zag -path, through what torments, had been his course! And how he had -always panted for happiness! Must it end here? He raised his head -and smiled in a way that would have been terrible to see. He -clenched his hands, his eyes flamed. All the melodramatic fierceness -and fervor of the old South had come upon him. He was ready with -desperate courage to fight all the world. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -CONVALESCENT. - -Mrs. Ransom kept her room for several days. The shock she had -received from Reynolds' confession carried with it something more -than the predicament might at first view imply. She had loved her -husband with all that romantic fervor characteristic of girlhood in a -warm climate. He was a handsome youth, bright, impulsive, brave, -passionate, reckless, holding her to him by that strange fascination, -which we all know but can not account for, exerted by the bad over -the good. When he had appeared to desert her she was not surprised, -and the news of his death by murder saddened without shocking her -beyond endurance. With the lapse of time the effect of her trouble -had softened and faded; but she had never ceased to remember with a -warmth of devotion, more of the imagination than of the heart, -perhaps, the lover and the husband of her romantic girlhood. To be -sure it had grown to seem no more than a tender dream, that period of -love and happiness ending in gloom, but its memory haunted her. - -Reynolds had in some way thrilled her life with something more potent -than that girlish adoration with which she had honored her boyish -husband. His influence over her was so strange and so new to her -experience, so sweet and yet so masterful, so overwhelming. His love -had shown her how little she had ever known of love before, love in -its highest and perfectest development. - -But this dreadful discovery--this dark, strange confession, fell upon -her just at the time when it could have the effect of darkening as -with the shadow of both crime and death the whole of her life. It -seemed a stroke of fate so malignant, so merciless, so far-reaching, -so unutterably terrible. - -Reynolds suffered, but not as she did. He was gloomy, impatient, -restless, but his wound continued to heal rapidly and his bodily -strength hourly increased. His physical constitution was so elastic -and vigorous that nothing, it seemed, could long disturb its -equilibrium. Mentally, however, he was a man of extremes, surging to -the furthest stretch of the tether in whatever direction impelled. -Now he was in the deepest pit of despondency. The whole light of -life had gone out. - -As if to render his state more dreary by contrast, the weather waxed -with sudden fervor into all the golden splendor of a semi-tropical -spring. A sprinkling of pale green tassels and tender leaflets -appeared on certain deciduous trees, and the grasses peculiar to the -region began to shoot up bright spikes in the warmer spots of the -brown fallow fields. A dainty woody odor pervaded the air and the -mocking birds and brown thrushes sang gayly in the old trees about -the mansion. The sky assumed a hue of such rich, tender azure as is -observed nowhere save in the low country in especially favorable -weather. And the river (what stream is more beautiful than the -Alabama?) seemed to go by with some rhythmic impulse but half -repressed in its broad, almost silent current. - -Left much alone during these days, Reynolds naturally enough indulged -in retrospection; but his thoughts rarely went further back than to -that tragedy in the far West which had let fall upon his life the -almost insufferable shadow--a shadow rendered doubly dense by its -effect upon his present prospects. Often his gloomy reflections -stopped at the mountain cabin and lingered with its inmates. The -face and form of Milly White, once so meaningless to him, were -rapidly assuming a significance that would not be ignored. Even his -deep passion for Agnes Ransom and the brooding dread of its -hopelessness now, could not shut away the accusing, vaguely insistent -eyes of the little mountain girl. The isolation of that lonely -plantation house gave him no sense of separation from the sources of -his trouble. - -One day, it was quite early in the morning, Uncle Mono, the old negro -musician, came along in the plat below the window of the room in -which Reynolds sat, and chancing to glance up, doffed his dilapidated -hat and said: - -"Mo'nin', boss, how's ye comin' on dis mo'nin', sah?" - -"Oh, very well, Uncle Mono, thank you," responded Reynolds, smiling -mechanically down on the black, wrinkled face so queerly ornamented -with its shocks of almost snow-white wool. "How is Uncle Mono?" - -"Po'ly, boss, po'ly. Got some 'flictions in de spine ob de back, an' -los' my ap'tite some. Ole dahkey no 'count no mo' no how. Done see -all my bes' days long 'go, boss." - -Mono had a long-handled hoe on his shoulder. He was a sturdy, -well-fed looking old fellow, with any thing but unhappiness in his -shrewd, deep-set eyes. - -"What are you up to this morning, Mono?" Reynolds idly inquired, -leaning at ease on the window-sill. - -"Gwine ter plant some watermillions, boss; got some pow'ful good seed -yah, got 'em outer a watermillion what wus a million fo' sho'. I -allus hab a fine patch, boss, kase I neber plants no po' seed. Yo -'member de book say: 'Yo' reaps what yo' sow, an' ef yo' sows de win' -yo' reaps de whirlwin' sho'.'" - -"That is a true saying, Mono," said Reynolds. "It holds good in the -matter of all kinds of crops." - -"Now yo's a gittin' ter de marrer ob de subjec', boss. 'Tain't many -young men see it dat way, do'. Dey mos'ly sow a little ob de win' -jes' fo' ter see how it wo'k; but de way dey cotches hell fo' it at -de end ob de row am cunnin' ter see. I knows all 'bout it, boss; I's -ben dah, _I_ has. 'Spec' you's ben poo'ty rapid, too, boss, yo' got -de gallopin' cut o' de eye. I knows a rus'ler w'en I see 'im. Yo' -no slow-goin' creeter, boss, yah! yah! yah! yah-h-h!" The old wretch -chuckled and guffawed, as if his sayings had stirred his feelings -boisterously. The active wrinkles in his face made it ludicrously -expressive. Reynolds made no response. - -"I kin tell w'en I see a young feller, whedder he like de spo't er -sowin' a leetle win' an' kinder hanker fo' de 'citement ob de -whirlwin'. Yo' no spring chicken, boss, yo's----" - -"Be off, you old vagabond!" stormed General DeKay's military voice -from somewhere among the shrubbery. - -"Vag'bon', vag'bon', I's no vag'bon, no mo' 'n some white folks I -knows ob," Uncle Mono muttered, very careful that the general should -not hear him, and then shuffled away to plant his melon seeds. - -The sort of flattery intended to be conveyed by the old negro's -expressions fell with a peculiarly disagreeable effect upon the mind -of Reynolds. It seemed quite devoid of the humor which Mono by his -nods and winks and grimaces had meant to enforce. It had come like a -direct, malignant, personal accusation, all the more disagreeable on -account of its source. He gazed out across the little plat and -through the tree-tops beyond toward the patches of blue sky, without -noting any of the softness and beauty of the view. It chafed him -immeasurably that he could see no escape from his tormenting -situation. What was the use of struggling against the pressure? He -felt all the verve and force of life slipping out. He was not weaker -than most men whose passions are deep and turbulent and whose -imagination is fervid and flexible. He passed easily from one -extreme to another. He could not dally on the middle ground. -Looking back now, he saw no good in all his past life, and looking -forward he felt no expectation of good in the future. With his arm -resting along the window-sill and his head drooping across it, he did -not hear the light foot-fall on the floor. A hand was passed over -his hair. When he turned Mrs. Ransom stood near him, with her sweet -blue eyes bent with a measureless meaning of love upon him. He -almost shrank from her at first, then he would have clasped her, but -she eluded him and sat down in a chair beyond his reach. - -"You are appearing so much better," she said, with a little -constraint in her voice, but not disclosing any excitement. Her -beautiful face was a trifle pale and there were faint, dusky lines -under her eyes. - -"Yes, I am nearly well, I hope," he replied, abetting her in the -effort to make the occasion have a common-place appearance. - -"It is such sweet weather. Do you hear my mocking birds?" she -inquired, trying to smile. "They have been having a stormy concert." - -"Yes, they have had a real war of song all the morning," he answered. - -A long space of silence ensued, during which they heard Uncle Mono -chanting an African ditty to a lagging, melancholy tune, while he -worked in his patch some distance away. Presently Reynolds almost -abruptly said: - -"You have been ill, your aunt says. I am so glad you are with me -again. I have been lonely and--and sad. I was afraid you were worse -than your aunt would acknowledge." - -"It is all over now," she replied with a short, repressed sigh. "Do -you feel strong enough to walk out? The morning is very inviting." - -"It is a happy thought," he almost cheerily responded, rising and -taking up his hat; "let us go out at once. I am tired of being -indoors, despite the good nursing I have had." - -They passed into the broad hall, where she took from a table her hat, -on which the twisted sprig of mistletoe still remained, just as he -had fixed it on the day of the shoot, and thence they went forth -among the magnolia trees on the front lawn. - -"One can never quite lose sight of the river here," said Reynolds; -"see how it shines under the boughs yonder. Isn't it fine?" - -"Have you noticed that the gentle roar it had some weeks ago is -almost silenced?" she asked. - -"I had not, but I do now," he answered; "what is the cause?" - -"It has fallen so low that its current is too sluggish, I suppose; -but Uncle Mono and the rest of the negroes have a pretty saying that -the river sings till the mocking birds begin, and then it becomes -silent in order to listen to their voices." - -"That is a poetical idea." - -"They have a more grotesque one about the moon crossing the river." - -"What is that?" - -"They claim that if one takes a skiff and goes to the middle of the -river, exactly at midnight when the moon is full, one may see the -moon in the water making all sorts of wry faces at the moon in the -sky." - -"I have observed that myself," said Reynolds, very gravely. - -"The moon making faces?" she exclaimed with a little smile, looking -inquiringly up into his face. - -"Yes, the skiff or the wind breaks the surface of the water into -ripples which cause the reflection of the moon to appear to do all -manner of fantastic things." - -"Oh, I understand it now. I had never thought of that." - -"But," she added, after a moment of silence, "it would be cruel to -explain away Uncle Mono's fanciful legend or myth of the Alabama and -the moon. Don't you think so?" - -"The old scamp is not so ignorant," said Reynolds. "It would not be -so easy as you might imagine to destroy his stories. He would have -plenty of expedients for evading the demonstrations of natural -philosophy." - -"I should hope he would," she said, "for there is something -fascinating in all his grotesqueries. They seem to have a smack of -genuine African wildness of poetry in them." - -They sat down on a low wooden bench, mossy with age and exposure to -the weather, under a grand magnolia tree. Here they were in the full -tide of the breeze with all the freshness and fragrance of the -morning around them. The dingy old house, so large and plain and yet -so picturesquely Southern, was just sufficiently removed to be nearly -lost in its vines and trees. Reynolds felt some sort of dread lest -their conversation should fall away from the lightness with which it -had begun--a dread almost betrayed when he said: - -"Can't you think of another negro conceit? I am sorry I spoiled the -one about the moon." - -"They have a story of the owl and the magnolia bloom," she answered, -after a pause. "They say that the big laughing owl comes, in his -wisdom, every spring, when the buds of the magnolias are just on the -point of opening, and says to the tree: 'Hold fast, hold fast; if you -speak now you'll lose your influence for a whole year,' but the tree -does not heed the wise counsel. It opens its lips (the petals of its -flowers) and spills its perfume. Then the owl laughs dismally and -the tree has no more perfume for a year." - -"That doesn't sound much like a thought of savage origin. It has a -weak touch of civilization in it somewhere." - -"Oh, the negroes have gathered liberally from us, no doubt," she -said, reflectively stirring some dry leaves with the toe of her tiny -boot. - -It vexed him that this action reminded him of Milly White. He rubbed -his forehead to try to dissipate the thought. Perhaps there was, -scarcely known to himself, a deeper reason for his irritation in the -consciousness that they both were beating against the wind to reach -some common ground from which they might banish forever any allusion -to what they felt must always remain a dreary memory. After a long -silence, Mrs. Ransom, with the outright courage of her womanly sense -of what was for the best, did not hesitate to approach the point. - -"This thing, that you told me of the other day, must be our secret. -The world has no right to it. I have considered it from every point -of view possible to me, and I can see no other safe or proper course. -Am I right?" - -Reynolds was startled by the steadiness and firmness of her voice and -manner, but he clutched eagerly at the comfort of her suggestion, so -like an echo of his own thought. - -"I am glad to hear you say that," he replied. "I was on the point of -saying it myself. Let us bury the subject forever. It is one of the -inscrutable turns of fate over which we never had control. It is in -the past. Let it stay there." - -"I thought at first that I could not bear it, but it came to me, -after the first shock, that you are the one most burdened and that I -ought to help you," she responded, with an infinite tenderness in her -voice. "I know you were not to blame." - -"God knows how true that is, and how I love you," said he, in a husky -accent, his cheeks pale with intense feeling, his eyes burning -strangely. - -Her face was turned somewhat from him, and as he looked at its fine -profile and gentle grace of expression, he upbraided fate with -unutterable rebuke because he had not been allowed to see and know -her before any ill had befallen her. How little he understood the -value that trouble and sorrow had added to her charms. He thought of -nothing but the pathetic aspect of her experiences and the effect of -her past and his upon the present and the future. He chafed under -the conviction that this secret which they now held between them -would never fall back among those cast aside things that form the -rubbish of the past, but would stay close to them ready to come into -view at any unguarded moment. In fact, would they not have to keep -always this common burden well in view in order not to allow the -cover to fall from it? - -"Does your shoulder pain you?" she asked; but she knew that it was an -older and more dangerous hurt that caused the pallor in his cheeks. - -"No, it is coming along finely," he answered, with an effort at -cheerfulness. "I shall be going away in a few days." - -"Not so very few; you are not strong yet." - -"Oh, yes, I am beginning to feel quite like myself, and my wound is -almost healed." - -"I shall miss you when you are gone," she said, with a little smile. -"You have been my patient so long." - -"Do you imagine that I can stay away? Don't you know that I will be -back surprisingly soon? How can I live where you are not, Agnes?" - -Just a hint of color suffused her cheeks. She dropped her eyes in a -charming way, with that girlish air disclosing itself in her -outlines, and yet some indefinable expression of great trouble -remained. - -"You will find the mountains delightful at this time of the year," -she said. "The spring is very forward. The wild-flowers will be out -and the mountain-slopes will be growing green." - -"But there is nothing left for me up there. Moreton is gone, the -Nobles are gone: it will be very lonely." - -"Then why go at all? Stay with us as long as you can," she said, -with all the old naïveté in her voice. "The bass-fishing is -beginning, uncle says, and you and he can enjoy it together. The -spring fishing is very fine here." - -"That will insure my return," he said, with the first laugh. "But I -shall have to go up to Birmingham and look after some affairs. They -are running a coal-switch into some of my lands, and I must see to -leasing some of the best veins." - -"Such lands must be quite valuable. Have you a large amount?" she -asked, but she could not have told why. - -"I have a great many acres, but the extent of the coal deposits -remains to be ascertained. I have been offered a large sum for the -estate, however." - -"I can't visit Birmingham any more, now that Cordelia is gone. I -wish she could have staid. She is a charming friend," she said, with -that inconsequence which is so apparent in written conversation, but -which runs unnoticed through the oral intercourse of even the best -talkers. - -"A few days--a week, at furthest--will set all my things to rights," -he continued. "And then, if I may, I will come back to--to try the -bass with General DeKay." - -It is by such bridges of straw that many a gulf is spanned; but who -can successfully laugh at the structure, no matter how fragile, if it -is able to serve the purpose for which it is built? Happy is he who -can at will bind together or hold apart the incidents of life with -the almost imperceptible gossamer threads of tact. - -At the end of an hour they had managed to forget themselves somewhat, -and it was with a feeling closely akin to annoyance that Mrs. Ransom -read on a card brought to her by a servant--"MALLORY BERESFORD." - -"Mr. Beresford has come," she said, a decided flush coming into her -cheeks, "and wishes to see me. I shall have to go, I suppose. Will -you return to the house now?" - -"No, I will get some more air. You will come back, won't you, when -he is gone?" - -"Yes; that is, if he doesn't stay too long," answered she with a -bright smile. - -Reynolds let his eyes follow her lithe and supple form as she walked -briskly toward the house. She was carrying her hat in her hand and -there was a bit of bright ribbon fluttering back over one shoulder -and down her back, under her dark coil of hair. Touches of the -Southern, the warm, the dusky, the dreamy, filled in the spaces of -the picture beyond and around and over her. The light brush of her -feet, in the crisp, fallen leaves and tufts of grass, came back to -him, and along with it a thrill sweeter and more mournful than any -chord of the Æolian harp. He shook himself, drew his hand across his -face, arose and strolled idly about under the trees. - -"It is worth a great effort," he was thinking, "and I shall succeed. -Life gives up its measure of happiness at last to the brave and -earnest. The past shall not mold my future and hers. I will take -her and go abroad. She shall forget, among the beauties and -interesting changes of travel, all this foolish panorama that our -imaginations have made out of the coincidents and calamities for -which neither of us is to blame. Oh, we shall be happy yet!" He -held his head high and his eyes flashed with mingled hope and -defiance. - -When he thought of Milly White he added: "I shall not forget to repay -her for all her faithfulness and childish affection." - -Faithfulness and childish affection! Faithfulness and childish -affection! the echo went ringing away into the remotest nooks of his -consciousness. For a time he struggled hard and finally he hurled -memory aside to give himself wholly up to forming plans for the -future. But no one is vigilant enough to keep unwelcome guests long -out of the chamber of his brain. They flit in so swiftly at any -chance opening. How giant strong and yet how furtive and silent they -are! - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -DREAMS AND PLANS. - -Reynolds lingered in the pleasant shadows of the magnolia trees, now -slowly walking to and fro, now resting on some one of the old -lichen-grown seats, his thoughts oscillating between the past and the -future. He was aware, but not vividly, of how aimless and cowardly -his life until now had been, and he was not quite sure that, no -matter how strong might be his present purpose, the cowardice did not -still linger with him. One thing he did realize perfectly: that he -had not told the whole truth to Agnes Ransom. He might have avoided -killing her husband had he been prompted by the highest moral -motives. If before the act he had been as willing to fly from San -Antonio and go bury himself in the lonely depths of Sand Mountain as -he was after the blood was on his hands, he could to-day look up into -the bright sweet sky and feel no load on his heart. But then, Heaven -forgive the thought, Agnes could not have been his! It was with a -dull, almost stolid sense of the gloom and hopelessness of his -situation that he at the same time pondered the possibilities of the -future. Throughout his consciousness, too, independent of the past -or the future, the present fact of Agnes Ransom's love for him -diffused itself with constantly increasing power, warmer, more -vitalizing, more glorifying than sunshine and spring-tide and virile -health combined. He knew and he did not know that he was trying to -deceive himself and the woman he loved. He was aware and he was not -aware that all his reasoning regarding the future was sophistry and -that the things of the past were not dead. He smiled there under the -dusky trees as if he were a guileless youth in the sweet wonder of -his first love. He held his head high. Had he not flung all weights -of memory behind him and set his eyes on a fair and calm future? -Yes, he was going to be happy. He was already happy. He would take -Agnes far away, beyond the sea, where no hint of the past could ever -come. At length he caught a distant glimpse of Beresford going away, -and then a little thrill of pity stole into his bosom. The man -looked lonely, even at that distance, and moved as if bearing a -burden of trouble, or so at least Reynolds' imagination colored the -apparition. - -Mrs. Ransom did not come forth immediately. She had borne the -interview with firmness, and had tried to soften with such art as she -could command the wound she was forced to inflict. Beresford was a -gentleman as well as a man, and whilst he had urged his plea with all -the passion of a strong nature, he had taken his final dismissal with -the dignity of a courageous, if not lofty soul. - -When he was gone, the reaction upon Mrs. Ransom's sensitive and -already sorely taxed nerves was more than she had expected, and she -went to her room and cried. It seemed so bitter a thing to do to one -so earnest and honorable and gentle. - -Reynolds saw the traces of tears on her face, when at last she did -come out to look for him, but he avoided saying anything to call up -an explanation. She told him the story, however, in her -straightforward, simple way, acknowledging her regret and her tears, -and ending with some outright praise of Beresford's worthiness. - -"I am sorry he came," said Reynolds. "I felt for him when I saw him -going away; but what else could you do?" - -"Did he look sad?" she inquired with perfect naïveté, a sweet -sorrowfulness in her voice. - -"Oh, I couldn't tell, he was too far off," answered Reynolds. "It -will all come right. We will not allow our imaginations to follow -him. I must tell you my plans. I hope they will be your plans too." - -She lifted her eyes to his but did not speak. - -"First of all, Agnes," he went on, "will you be my wife?" The words -fell dryly, strangely on her ear. - -They were standing close to a tree and she was lightly leaning -against the bole. She felt a quick but vague sense of fear, or -something akin to it, strike coldly into her heart. - -It was inexplicable, an almost irresistible impulse toward flight -took hold of her. She could not speak. Something forbade it. - -"Answer me, Agnes: you will marry me, won't you, love?" His voice -was low and appealing. - -Her trepidation and weakness were but momentary. She mastered -herself by a strong effort, and, with a brave, earnest smile, put -both her hands in his. - -"Yes, I will marry you," she said. - -He lifted the hands swiftly and kissed them, then he led her to one -of the seats. - -"I have been planning such a delightful life for us," he began, and -with passionate eloquence went on to disclose his idea of their going -abroad, for a time at least, to live in Italy or Switzerland or -France, together, for each other, the blissful life of love. - -Her imagination responded readily to his eloquent descriptions, and -her face was soon aglow with enthusiastic interest. She had always -dreamed of foreign travel, and the subject was one into which she -could cast herself with all the abandon of a child. He saw with -delight how his proposition pleased her, and he talked with a freedom -and earnestness that were irresistible. They were now very happy -lovers indeed, and the time sped on golden wings until a servant came -to call them to luncheon. They had slipped away from the troubles -that had haunted them into the true realm of the young--the rosy -region of dreams. - -The mid-day meal at the DeKay place was not, as is, perhaps, the -prevailing custom on plantations, the principal one. Dinner came on -early in the evening and was all the more enjoyable on account of the -delightful temperature of the hour throughout most of the year. - -Late in the afternoon a young gentleman from an adjoining plantation -came down the river in a little boat to make a friendly visit. He -had been one of the guests on the day of the shoot, a dapper, -talkative youth whose fund of good spirits made him welcome at all -times. He liked wine and tobacco, was somewhat of a horseman and -never tired of discussing questions of angling and field sports. Of -course General DeKay, who cared for nothing so much as such -companionship, would not let him return until after dinner. His name -was Lapham. The Laphams were a fine old family--nearly all the -Alabama families below the mountains are reported to be fine and -old--and he retained in his speech and manner much that was ultra old -and Southern, along with certain strong traces of quite modern "slang -and snap," as it is called. - -He sat next to Mrs. Ransom at table, entertaining her and the rest -with an account of some recent races at New Orleans, or Tuscaloosa, -or somewhere, that he had been to see. There had been a row among -some sports ending in one being killed. - -"It was a mean murder," he remarked, "the man was given no show. I -hope the law will be swift, as in the case of your man, Colonel -Reynolds." - -Reynolds looked at him with quick inquiry and Mrs. Ransom's face -showed the shrinking of her feelings. - -"Oh, they got him below Selma and hanged him," added Lapham in answer -to the question in Reynolds' eyes. "They made short work of it: -caught him and strung him up to the first tree." - -"I haven't read the papers for several days," said General DeKay. -"They lynched him, did they? Hanging is the popular thing now." - -"Yes," answered Lapham. "He deserved it, I believe. It was a bad -case. Killed a young fellow who had just been married. Loved the -girl himself, it is said, and did the deed out of sheer revenge, -because she took the young man in preference to himself. The -circumstances were atrocious. The young wife is reported to have -lost her reason on account of the affair." - -There came a depressing silence over the little group at the table. -Mrs. DeKay made haste to change the topic of conversation to one she -was sure would interest the gentlemen. - -"Have you tried the trout since this fine weather has come?" she -asked, addressing Lapham. "I should think the angling might be good -now." - -The mention of trout (bass are called trout in the South) set the -young man in the midst of one of his favorite elements. He began at -once to tell how he had killed a four-pounder that very morning. He -always killed four-pounders. "It was the gamiest fish I ever hooked, -I think,--a regular savage. I toiled with it a full half hour before -I could land it. At one time it had out nearly a hundred yards of -line and I thought I never should get it checked up. If it had gone -a little further my rod or my line--one would have suffered. It was -jolly sport." - -"I must rig up my tackle and try the river to-morrow," said the -General. "Are you strong enough to join me, Colonel Reynolds? Of -course you will come down, Mr. Lapham?" - -"I am sorry," answered Reynolds, "but I fear my shoulder is too -tender. I am quite anxious to get well, and to that end must heed my -doctor's advice." - -"I will join you, General," said Lapham with eager readiness. "This -morning's taste has made me ravenous for another round with the finny -beauties." - -"What flies are best here?" inquired Reynolds, thinking of something -else. - -"Oh, we use minnows," said Lapham, "though I have had success with a -bob of deer-tail hairs and red feathers. The trout won't rise to a -regular fly." - -"Up in the mountains I find the 'Doctor' and the brown hackle very -killing," said Reynolds. "I have had rare sport in the smaller -streams. The bass there are quite as game as brook trout." - -"The mountain fish are like the mountain crackers: game but not over -wise," Lapham quickly responded, with an intonation meant as a -guaranty of the originality of his humor. - -"Neither would be easily handled by a novice, I grant you," said -Reynolds with a peculiar smile. - -Lapham laughed merrily. The retort pleased him better than his own -venture. - -"I was up in the mountains last winter deer hunting," he said, "and -there's one thing I can testify to in behalf of those crackers: they -are very hospitable and obliging; they seem to think they can't do -too much for one. But the women! It kept me in a state of chronic -melancholy to see the poor things." - -"Their life is a lonely, dreary, hopeless one," replied Reynolds, -"but they are good, and as true as steel." - -"Yes, no doubt they are good. I know they are kind, and all that. -They asked me to smoke with them and called me sonny!" - -"Did you go when they called you?" the General asked, with the ready -familiarity of old acquaintance. - -"Yes," said Lapham, "I recognize the fitness of the appellation." - -Reynolds was thinking of Milly White. She was, in his mind, -unseparable from any idea of the mountains and their people. He felt -an impulse to resent, as personal to her, every suggestion made at -the expense of the mountaineers. He could see her now, standing by -the little gate gazing down the crooked, stony road, patiently -watching for his return. He strove to brush aside the reflections -that began to crowd into his brain, and with the help of Lapham's -skipping levity and the unusual volubility of General DeKay's talk, -he at last succeeded in hiding his uneasiness and lack of sympathy -with the quiet merriment of the occasion. - -Mrs. Ransom appeared to be lighter-hearted than at any other time -since the adventure at the ruin. Her face was touched with a -charming color and she followed Lapham's shallow chatter with smiling -attention. It was from her that Reynolds finally caught the ability -to forget himself and to fall into the spirit that ruled the rest of -the company. Once engaged, he put forth his powers with good effect. -For Lapham's benefit he described the Derby and the _Grand Prix_, a -pigeon shoot in England where the stake was a thousand pounds, -angling in Scotland and some hunting adventures in Algiers. From -sport he easily drifted to art and from art into the ever wonderful -and fascinating scenery of Switzerland and Italy. It was Agnes who -led him on to speak of Paris and Rome, the two cities of every young -woman's dream. She was full of the thought of going with him to the -old world. It was intoxicating her. How far away it would be--that -life beyond the sea--from the dreary, sorrowful pool of her narrow -and bitter experience! That night in the quiet of her chamber she -thought it all over, and she was dreaming of it when next morning the -mocking-birds awoke her. Reynolds, too, went to his room with an -almost light heart. From his window he saw Lapham, with a little -sail set, go up the river before the night breeze, in the light of a -crescent moon that hung over in the west. - -"I will return to Birmingham to-morrow," he thought. He was in haste -to get his affairs all arranged and then come back and persuade Agnes -to name the earliest day possible for their marriage. He felt a -mighty impatience, as if each moment endangered the cup of happiness -now bubbling at his lips. - -But the thought of going back to the mountains chilled him. Why need -he go at all? Why should any sordid consideration enter into the -discussion of his plans? Had he not already shut out of his life the -dreamy hermitage and all that pertained to it? He tried to imagine a -line drawn across the past at a point on this side of all his -unprofitable experiences, a line over which he would teach his memory -not to cross. Could he not, by a supreme effort of will, tear wholly -away from his old self, as from a chrysalis sheath, purify himself -and spend the rest of his days in the summer atmosphere of a calm and -peaceful life? How it tormented him to perceive his lack of genuine -courage and sincerity in this exacting crisis! He tried not to know -that his new hopes and desires were not borne up by an underswell of -true repentance. The selfishness of mere regret and remorse taunted -him insidiously, whilst the happiness that beckoned him on was -tricked in sensuous tinsel-tints, the exponents of a very low power -of good. He struggled fiercely, silently, fighting down in detail -the troops of phantoms that beset him. Finally he cheated himself -into believing, or feigning to believe, that he had gained the -victory. The field is clear, he thought, I am a man once more. - -Strangely enough his mental struggle ended in confirming instead of -rejecting the thought of returning to Birmingham at once and closing -out his interests there. After all, why should he hesitate? What -possible objection existed? How could he be affected? He brushed it -all aside as sheer sentimentality unworthy of consideration. He -could not assume to be responsible for every body who had chanced to -come within the radius of his life. What is a man here for, save to -forge his own way to happiness? - -And so he rushed from one extreme to the other, wholly unable to see -the fine straight line of right, wholly unwilling bravely to assume -the responsibility of lifting the burden his own hands had packed and -bound. Not see the right! Yes, he saw it at last, clearly enough he -thought. Reparation, reparation. He would right all the wrongs he -had done. He would do good all the rest of his life. Kindliness, -charity, blessings. He would leave a trail of good deeds behind him -wherever he should go. The poor should remember him and the -afflicted should feel the touch of his tenderness. With Agnes beside -him, with her pure soul to influence and encourage him, to what a -height of unselfishness he might rise. He smiled and felt reassured. -All was well. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -REALITIES. - -There is no phase of life so steadfast and at the same time so -tricksy and variable as what is called being in love: the current is -all one way and yet its force appears to act in every direction. -Love sets for itself impossible tasks with a perfect confidence, -attempts any height, and, alas, too often is willing to delve in the -mire and dregs of things with the hope of finding one glittering -grain of its desire. No doubt supreme passion and supreme happiness -lie far apart. Form, color, sound, perfume and whatever appeals -through them, may constitute, we know not to what extent, the values -of passion. Happiness is not so clothed that its substance is -covered or its footing invisible. It appeals to the conscience more -than to the senses. One may say: I am happy, and go delightedly -through the giddy rounds of the little whirlwinds of pleasurable -emotion, but he is all the time conscious of the vacuum and lack of -equilibrium that have caused the unusual excitement. He is vaguely -or otherwise mindful of the fact that he is indulging a delusion. -His conscience argues that steadfastness, poise, evenness and -certainty are the foundation stones of happiness. Too often these -foundation stones seem to lie far away, so that, like the old poet, -one cries out: "Oh, had I the wings of a dove!" Reynolds and Agnes -had fixed their eyes on this distant place where, amid new scenes and -strange people, the temple of their love might become the -dwelling-place of immeasurable happiness. And why should they not -realize this dream? They were young, strong and loving. He had -wealth sufficient for a life of reasonable luxury, and was not their -secret their own? Over and over again the argument was made and the -pleasing conclusion reached. - -It was a comfort to them both to reiterate their expressions of -confidence in the future; for all the time there lurked a doubt -somewhere on the outer boundary of their field of thought, a doubt -each hoped the other did not know of. Not that either questioned the -purity or perfectness of the other's love, that was impossible, but -this dark secret of the past seemed to link them together on an -insecure footing which might give way at any time, plunging them into -an abyss of irremediable suffering. It mattered not how far away or -how shadowy this doubt was, or how often it seemed to be utterly -driven off, the lesion it caused to the tissue of their love-dreams -was incurable and therefore dreadful, notwithstanding its obscurity. -It might be forgotten for a time, even for a long time, but it could -not be put away wholly and forever. - -However, love takes all risks, braves all dangers, attacks every -obstacle. There was no longer hesitation, even if the doubt would -linger. They were impatient to embark upon their voyage to love's -land, as they imagined it, somewhere beyond the sea. They laughed, -they sang, they exchanged sweet, airy utterances of passion, as did -the birds in the green mazes of the tree-tops above them. They made -the most of the moments. - -"'Clar' ter goodness!" muttered Uncle Mono, whose eyes were not so -old that he failed to note the wooing. "'Clar' ter goodness! Ef de -young boss haint a rus'ler den I dunno nuffin'. W'y he done kotch de -pore leetle missus, same lak er hawk ketch um bird. She not hab time -ter squeak 'fore she gone! Mebbe it turn out de bes' kin', I dunno, -but seem lak dar's somefin' 'sterious sorter bodderin' my min' 'bout -it. Wha' dat boss come f'om, anyhow? an' wha' he gwine ter go to, -I'd lak ter know? But he's er rus'ler, sho's you bo'n, he is!" - -General DeKay and his wife saw how matters were drifting, too, and -they discussed the probable outcome with many doubts and misgivings. -They were not persons fond of borrowing trouble, however, and they -did not know of any objection to Reynolds. In fact, the General had -grown to like him very much. Moreton had told them that Reynolds was -wealthy and of a good family, and had let fall a great many -apparently accidental references to his friend's good qualities. -There seemed to be no foundation upon which to base an objection, no -plausible reason for interference, so the love-passage was left to be -worked out to its ending, whatever that might be. - -Reynolds got ready to go to Birmingham. The DeKay place was about -two hours' drive from Montgomery over a level country highway. So on -the morning set for his departure a carriage stood ready at the gate -in front of the lawn. He had taken formal leave of General DeKay -early in the morning when that sport-loving planter was on the point -of joining Lapham in an excursion for bass. The General had warmly -urged him to return soon, so as to test the qualities of the fish in -the Alabama, and he had readily accepted the invitation. Now he was -lingering on the veranda with Agnes, who, dressed in a pale blue -morning gown and flushed with the sweet emotions that filled her -breast, was looking her loveliest. Her blue eyes had lost for the -time all traces of the quiet sadness they had so long harbored, and -were beaming with a tender, happy light. She stood up erect and -strong, her slender figure, with its softly rounded outlines, poised -with such grace as always suggests a reserve of abundant elasticity -and youthful alertness. Whoever had studied her face at that time -would have declared that its expression was in every way witchingly -girlish, simply and charmingly beautiful, full of truth and earnest -faith in the right; but he would not have called it an intellectual -face, or one indexing a strongly developed character. She would make -a good wife, he might have said, a trusting, gentle, ever-loving, -ever-faithful companion, the comfort of a strong man, the sweet light -of a home; but she could never be any thing more. - -"A week, love, and then--" said Reynolds, pausing to look fondly down -into her eyes. - -"And then you will come back to me," she quickly replied, "I know you -will, and I shall wait for you and think of you every minute of the -time." - -"Oh, you must not worry about me, or be impatient. The days will -soon slip by. Take good care of yourself and----" - -"You are the one who needs that advice," she urged, "for your wound -is not entirely well, you know. Do be very, very careful, for, -for--you are very dear to somebody now!" - -He would have kissed her then, but Uncle Mono very unopportunely made -his appearance around the corner of the veranda. Mono was old and -wise. He knew that the departure of a guest from the house was the -golden moment for a servant possessing his liberal opportunities. -The lifting force of emancipation from slavery had not raised his -pride above the level of those tricks which, in his days of bondage, -had served to soothe his palm with pieces of silver, and even of gold -sometimes, tossed from the lavish, careless hands of visitors whom he -had waited upon. He came shambling along with his old hat in his -hand, bowing very low and grinning the grin of the trickster who is -sure that his trick must win. As he came near he said: - -"Berry sorry yo' gwine away, boss, berry sorry. Hope yo' not fo'get -ole Mono when yo' done gone. 'Cessful journey to yo', boss." - -"Thank you, Uncle Mono, I can never forget you. Did you ever play -base-ball, Mono?" said Reynolds. - -"Nah, sah, do'n know nuffin' 'bout dat," answered the old man, -shaking his head and executing some ludicrous grimaces. "I nebber -plays nuffin' 'cep'n' de fiddle an' de banjer, an' I'se gettin' so -ole an' 'flicted dat I can't play dem to no good. Old Mono mos' run -he ye'thly co'se, boss." - -"You're not springy and active, then, Mono. You've lost the use of -yourself pretty nearly, I suppose?" - -"Dat's it, boss, dat's it. Ole man all cripple up wid 'fliction an' -ole age. No 'count any mo'. He done los' all he sperit." - -"Well, Mono," said Reynolds very gravely, taking some pieces of money -from his pocket, "if you'll catch this dollar when I throw it to you, -I'll give you another." - -Mono prepared to use his hat. - -"No, no," exclaimed Reynolds, laughing, "I'll not have that! Put -down your hat and use your hands. Now, here it comes." - -No cat, leaping out of the summer grass to catch a low-flying -sparrow, ever displayed more nimbleness and adroitness than did old -Mono in catching that dollar. It fell upon his dusky palm with a -clear slap and immediately found its way into his trowsers pocket. - -"Yah, yah, yah! let de oder 'n come, boss, I's ready for 'm!" shouted -the old fellow in great delight. - -"You're an intolerable fraud, Mono," said Reynolds, tossing him -another dollar, "your afflictions are of the kind the good people -sing about, that 'are oft in mercy sent;' a few more of the same sort -would make a famous acrobat of you." - -"Fanky, boss, fanky; tole yo' dat yo' wus a rus'ler, did'n' I? -Goo'by, boss, 'cessful journey to yo', sah." - -"Good-by, Mono, we'll go a fishing when I come back," Reynolds called -after him, as he rapidly retreated. - -"All right, boss, I go wid yo'. I show yo' wha' dey is, sho's yo' -bo'n. Goo'by!" - -The morning breeze was singing in the vines that clothed the heavy -columns of the tall veranda, and its gentle current tossed some loose -tresses across Mrs. Ransom's happy face. It was time for Reynolds to -be on his road, but he faltered whenever he undertook to say the word -of parting. Yet a minute or two, he would think: I will make up for -the lost time when I get started. She had never appeared so -beautiful as now, never so happy, never so loving. - -"Walk down to the gate with me," he presently said: "it will give me -a happy send-off on my journey, to look back and see you standing -there watching me as I am going out of sight among the shadows of the -wood." - -They spent a long time passing over the space between the veranda and -the gate. Here they paused to dally beside a bed of hyacinth or -there to note how wonderfully large the violets were. A touch of -childishness, or thoughtlessness (or was it that artlessness which -comes of complete self-forgetfulness?) made their actions amusingly -interesting to Mrs. DeKay, who watched them from the window. - -The colored driver was perched upon his high seat in front of the -DeKay landau and the team of chestnut mares was ready for the road. -There was plenty of time left in which to reach Montgomery so as to -take the north bound train. - -"Agnes," Reynolds murmured, "you must be ready to set an early day -for our marriage by the time of my return. We shall want to sail as -early in June as possible. I have not yet spoken to your uncle and -aunt, but I shall as soon as I return." - -She was silent, but it was a silence just as satisfactory to her -lover as any words could have been. - -The barbaric imagination, always a part of the negro, must have been -aroused in the driver as he lounged in his seat and gazed at the -beautiful woman and the tall, strong man straying down the walk. -Their figures were boldly relieved against the dull gray background -of the old house, and framed in with vines and magnolia boughs. He -had a vivid though savagely crude sense of the warmth and tenderness -and freshness of the picture. His indolent, half-closed eyes and -shining, jet black face were expressive of that dreamy phase of -delight which is generated by mere passive receptivity. The delicate -blue of Mrs. Ransom's dress, the charming bloom of her face and the -supple grace and strength of her slender figure were to him as a star -is to a poet, a mystery, a focus of unapproachable glory, never to be -any nearer or any further away. He felt, without knowing it, all the -æsthetic values of the scene before him; the cloudless, tender sky, -the rich green of the magnolias, the wind-beaten and rain-stained old -mansion all wrapped in semi-tropical vines, the flare of the sunlight -and the soft glooms of the shade, and, beyond the house and the -trees, the sheeny reeds and the broad, winding river, all these with -the fresh perfumes and delicious spring wind, touched him and - - "Passed like a glorious roll of drums - Through the triumph of his dream." - -He saw, he felt, he enjoyed--what more could his lazy, basking nature -crave? - -The parting was commonplace enough, a mere clasping of hands, strong, -hopeful smiles and good-by. It could not be less, it might outwardly -have been more, if the driver had not been there. - -"You will come soon." - -"Very soon--in a few days." - -The carriage, a sort of open landau, began to move, and Reynolds -sitting in the rear turned and furtively flung back a kiss. - -She was already beginning to grow pale, but she touched her lips with -her fingers and waved him adieu with a bright smile. - -He kept his eyes upon her, as the distance gradually grew, and, so -absorbed was he, it startled him when the vehicle suddenly came to a -stand-still. - -"Wha' do Gin'l DeKay lib?" called out the driver of a carriage whose -way lay opposite to theirs. - -"Jis back ya' leetle ways," answered Reynolds' driver. - -"All right, I fought so; much 'bleeged." - -Both carriages moved again. In passing Reynolds saw a slender, -picturesque looking man, whose yellowish hair fell in profuse curls -about his neck and shoulders. He wore a broad-brimmed, light colored -hat and a close-fitting semi-military suit of gray. - -It was a most irritating thing that this man and his vehicle should -whisk into the line of Reynolds' vision and entirely hide Agnes from -him. He craned his neck and tried to look over or past that wide -slouch hat and those slender, curl-covered shoulders, but it was -impossible. - -"Damn the fellow!" he muttered. "Stop a moment, Dan," he called to -the driver. - -The mares were drawn up and the carriage came to a stand-still in a -moment. Reynolds waited impatiently, hoping that some slight swerve -in the road would give him one more glimpse of the blue dress and -shining face. He felt that he could not thus abruptly and -unauspiciously lose sight of her. But the road was straight and the -vehicle kept well in the middle of it until it neared the gate of -DeKay Place, where it turned and stopped. - -Mrs. Ransom was there, with her face toward him. He snatched out his -handkerchief and waved it rapidly to and fro, but before he could get -any response from her, the young man had got out of his carriage and -placed himself in front of her, so that she was completely eclipsed. - -Reynolds uttered some phrase expressive of bitter disappointment. -His driver turned a surreptitious look of wonder and inquiry upon -him, but dared not speak when he saw that Reynolds was looking at -what was going on at the gate. Naturally enough the negro shrewdly -suspected that here was a little play of rivalry between two -gentlemen, and that he had better not interfere. - -As Reynolds leaned over the back of the seat and looked, there was a -sudden movement made by the stranger that for a moment left Agnes in -plain view, and he saw her throw up both hands and heard her cry out. -Then the man clasped her and held her in his arms. Something in this -scene startled Reynolds Strangely, he hardly knew why, and he -hurriedly commanded the driver to drive back to the gate. - -"Quick, Dan, make the horses go; hurry, I say!" he added in a voice -rough with excitement. There was a cold feeling in his breast, as if -a damp, chilling breath had blown through it, and a heavy weight -seemed pressing on his brain. - -In less than a minute the gate was reached and Reynolds had leaped to -the ground. The man had let Mrs. Ransom go, and the two were -standing facing each other. Both looked excited. She was very pale, -but showed no sign of weakness, holding herself erect and steady. -She turned her eyes upon Reynolds, as he came near, and made a -movement with her lips, as if speaking, without emitting any sound. -The man, who appeared to be an invalid, trembled a little and did not -take his eyes off her face, even for an instant, but gazed at her -with such yearning in his expression as would have touched the -coldest observer. He had taken off his sombrero, holding it in his -hand, and the light wind was tossing his long ringlets about his neck -and cheeks. There was that peculiar droop to one of his shoulders, -together with a hollowness of his chest on that side, which indicated -that at some time in his life he had been desperately wounded. - -"Agnes, Agnes, what is the matter?" Reynolds exclaimed in that -startled, rasping voice which is common to all men when confronted by -an overwhelming trouble. He asked this question involuntarily, -aimlessly, for he well understood what all this quiet, terrible scene -was about. He knew this man now. It was hard to comprehend how such -a thing could be; but this was Ransom standing here, Ransom alive and -confronting his wife. Agnes made two or three fruitless efforts -before she was able to exclaim: - -"Oh, John--Mr. Reynolds, go away! Go away! This is--this is my -husband!" She did not say this demonstratively or noisily--her voice -was low and quite calm, save that she seemed to falter a little. -"Oh, I have always thought you were not dead and that you would come -back!" she added, turning toward the man with something like a -shudder in her tones. - -"Ransom, is this indeed you?" demanded Reynolds, gathering enough -force to crush down his bewilderment. - -The man turned his eyes upon his interrogator for a second. His -stare had in it a mingling of surprise and insolent bravado. Then -with a slight start he ejaculated: - -"Reynolds!" - -Mrs. Ransom clasped her hands and looked helplessly and beseechingly -from one to the other. Her lips quivered pitifully. - -The two men stared at each other as if unwilling to accept the -situation and yet unable to escape it. Each seemed waiting for the -other to explain why he was there. It did not once occur to Reynolds -that this man had the legal right to Agnes, and that henceforth she -must be as lost as if dead. He went no further than to recognize -that here was a mystery and a trouble. The catastrophe had been so -peculiar and sudden, so lacking in those melodramatic features common -to such scenes, that it had a dulling, numbing effect upon his -faculties. Ransom was not so bewildered. It surprised him to see -Reynolds and it displeased him as well, but he had prepared himself, -before coming, for any kind of a scene with his wife; therefore, -although excited, he was quite deliberate after the first little -start of recognition had spent its force. - -"I was not expecting to see _you_," he said with peculiar emphasis. -"Nor you me, I suppose." - -The man's whole manner was sinister and crafty, and yet, at the same -time, there was something subdued, something suggestive of long -suffering and unmerited injury, in the expression of his face and the -attitude of his person. He appeared to Reynolds' startled and -distorted vision an incarnate accusation. The situation might have -had a touch of the supernatural in it, if its realism had not been so -peculiarly pronounced and unmistakable. The whole affair was a cold, -dull, immitigable affair. It did not even rise to the level of -romance. It had come as death comes, a stark, overpowering, -repulsive result of perfectly inexplicable causes, bearing down -before it every thought of resistance or escape. - -Reynolds had ready no response. The predicament was one which seemed -to him malign in its whole bearing, with no room for words of inquiry -or of explanation. A sense of suffocation assailed him, as if all -those dreams and hopes and delightful anticipations that he had been -so luxuriating in lately, had fallen dead in a wilted heap upon his -heart. - -Ransom was a strangely handsome man, with a dash of devil-may-care -blended with melancholy in his face. His features were clearly and -finely cut, delicate but not effeminate, showing strong traces of -suffering, with something of that cool nervousness (if one may so -express it) in their play, so often noticed in the faces of gamblers -and outlaws. He was rather above the medium stature, well-knit and -graceful, erect (saving that slight peculiar droop of one shoulder), -alert and well-poised. He turned from Reynolds to Agnes and with the -utmost tenderness said: - -"Come, little wife, I've a long story to tell you--a strange story. -I have not been so bad as you think. I have been just the same as -dead, four years in a Mexican prison." - -It was not what he said but the way in which he said it, that made -his appeal so very affecting. Reynolds felt a vague thrill of pity. -At the same time there came upon him the first shock of genuine -realization of the situation. The phrase "little wife," as used by -Ransom, enforced its deep significance at once. It struck with a -directness that gave no chance for evasion. - -"Oh, Herbert, Herbert!" cried Agnes, suddenly making a step forward -and casting her arms around Ransom's neck. "Oh, is it really, really -you!" - -[Illustration: "Oh, Herbert, Herbert, is it really, really you!" -_Page 244_.] - -The lithe little figure in its rustling blue gown shrank close to him -and quivered in his embrace. He bent his head and kissed her again -and again, his long bright curls falling across her upturned face. - -Reynolds recoiled as if he had received a blow, then, steadying -himself, he looked upon them as one might look into one's own grave. -Ransom's voice, murmuring all manner of caressing phrases, was -infinitely musical and sweet, but there was that in it which betrayed -a weakness not wholly physical, a suggestion of irresponsibility and -insincerity. - -It may have been the effect of long imprisonment, the nature of his -wound and protracted mental worry, or it may have been altogether -owing to the interpretation he had instantly given to the -relationship between Agnes and Reynolds; but from whatever cause, his -face was luminous with a pale glow expressive of the most pathetic -misery blended with exultation. - -Reynolds stood like a bronze statue, his eyes burning with a dull -fire and his face seamed and shriveled. - -Ransom clung to his wife, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek. -His ecstasy was genuine, but it lacked the force of lofty passion. - -Presently Agnes freed herself from his embrace, quite as suddenly as -she had sought it, as if some revulsion of feeling or some strong -conviction of the impropriety of such extreme action had mastered -her. She looked at Reynolds, and meeting his gloomy, despairing -gaze, let fall her eyes, a quick blush covering her cheeks. In that -moment all the force of her surroundings rushed furiously upon her. -The blush gave place to a deadly paleness that appeared to affect her -face as a white heat. She put up one hand quickly, as if to touch -her forehead, but lowered it again, staggered and fell. Both men -sprang to her assistance. Reynolds brushed the other aside, as he -might have brushed aside some insect. Then lifting Agnes in his arms -he bore her to the house. He did this in a mood that eliminated from -his thought, for the time, all else save the woman he loved. He -carried her without at all feeling her weight, and his movement was -so swift that Ransom did not try to keep pace with him; but followed -him with slow, feeble steps into the hall and thence into the parlor. -But it had not been a swoon, only a mere vanishing from her of -strength sufficient to stand. She raised herself to a sitting -posture, so soon as Reynolds put her on a sofa, and looked at him -with an immediate understanding of what had happened. Ransom had not -yet come in. - -"Where is he--Herbert, my husband--where is he?" she asked. - -"Oh, Agnes! Agnes!" cried Reynolds, taking her again in his arms. -"It can not be so! you can not, you will not, you shall not give me -up for him!" - -She sprang away from him and stood up pale and firm before him. - -"Do not touch me again," she exclaimed, in a way that sent the blood -in upon his heart. "You have no right. He is my husband. You said -he was dead. You said--you--you deceived me--told me a -falsehood--you--" - -"For heaven's sake, Agnes, hold--don't say that! I told you true. I -thought he was dead--I thought I killed him--I did not dream of his -being alive!" - -Ransom was standing by now glancing keenly from one to the other. -When he spoke it was directly to Reynolds. - -"If my wife wishes to talk longer with you, well and good, sir, but -if not, you must see the propriety of leaving her to me." His manner -was suave, but there was a mighty meaning in his voice and a steely -glitter in his eyes. - -"Leave her to you!" said Reynolds in a white heat of fury, "never!" - -"You _must_ leave me, and at _once_," said Agnes firmly. - -He looked into her eyes as if trying to read the lowest lines of -their meaning, but he found nothing to aid him. The love-light had -faded and in its stead the cold beam of loveless duty shone out clear -and strong. He saw that she was as hopelessly gone from him as if -she lay dead in her grave. He stretched out his arms toward her, but -quickly withdrew them, not, however, on account of a swift, facile -movement of Ransom's hand to the place where a pistol is usually -concealed by a man who carries one, for he did not see it, but -because her eyes repelled him. There was nothing for him to do but -to go away forever. He rushed from the room and from the house. -Half way to the gate he stopped and turned about, fixing upon the -weather-stained old building a gaze that it would have been awful to -contemplate, so intense, so wild, so malignant. His hands were -clenched, his lips, so compressed that they seemed welded, were cold -and purple. For a mere point of time he was a murderer; but, despite -the intervening wall of the house, he could see Agnes clinging to her -husband and the mood was flung aside. Her husband! What right had -he to survive that well-aimed shot? What right had he to escape from -a Mexican prison and drag his wrecked body and withered soul back -here to crush out such a love as that which but an hour ago had -lighted up the whole world? - -It was but a flash of desperate passion, that came and went in an -instant, leaving Reynolds all the more helplessly bewildered. What -could he do? He stood there rigid, breathless, choking in the -impotence of utter irresolution. - -Again he turned towards the carriage. Far and near in the tender -foliage of the trees the mocking birds sang with lusty fervor. The -sweet South breathed upon him the warm, odorous breath of love's own -clime. - -Dan the driver, from his seat on the carriage, had watched this -melodramatic scene from first to last, so far at least as it was not -shut out from his vision, with all the open-mouthed wonder -characteristic of a negro under such circumstances. He well knew -that the predicament was one of no ordinary sort, and that weighty -interests were involved. He had expected every moment to see knives -or pistols gleam and flash, but he had been so dazed and scared that -he could not have moved to save his life. He sat there gripping the -lines and leaning forward in an attitude of painful rigidity, his -shoulders elevated and his chin thrust out, lost to every thing but -the excitement that had taken possession of him. - -Uncle Mono, in blissful ignorance of the drama, was down in the -little plat of ground devoted to his melon vines, stirring the sandy -loam with a hoe and singing a lively camp-meeting song. The two -silver dollars given to him by Reynolds had made him very happy -indeed. - -Reynolds took no note of any thing around him. The sunshine, the -bird-songs, the voice of the merry old freedman and the dying rustle -of the now almost motionless air did not reach his senses. Again and -again he stopped as if to rush back, his arms twitching, his face -rigid, but all the time he was half aware that fate was binding him -more firmly each moment. Already the sweet life of the past month -had receded into the far, hazy distance, as if its sphere had whirled -away to the remotest region of space, almost beyond the reach of his -vision, and with it all the best of his nature, leaving him groveling -and baffled, a clod on a barren field. - -"Drive me to Montgomery as fast as you can go, Dan," he said to the -driver as he reached the gate and entered the landau. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -WHITHER? - -"Drive fast, Dan, I am in a great hurry," said Reynolds, as the mares -again moved gently along the road in the direction of Montgomery. - -The negro waved his whip above the backs of the spirited animals, -starting them into a rapid trot. The wheels made little noise on the -light sandy surface over which they whirled. Reynolds sat bolt -upright, looking neither to the right nor to the left, his vision -introverted. He was calm as marble, so far as outward appearance -went, and inwardly there was no commotion, but a cold, dull, -smothering sense of defeat and despair. - -The woods on either side of the road were dull and soundless, save -that, where the tall clumps of pines shot above the rest of the -trees, their tops let fall a mellow roar which the slightest breeze -has power to awaken in their frondous meshes. - -The negro presently began to sing, in a strangely melodious -undertone, an old, old Alabama ditty; - - "Oh, poor Lucy Neal, - Oh, poor Lucy Neal, - And if I had you by my side, - How happy I would feel!" - - -Reynolds started, clenched his hands and began to breathe hard. - -"Dan," he cried, "drive back, drive back, I can't bear it!" - -Dan pulled up the mares and turned round in his seat: - -"What yo' say, boss?" he inquired, touching his hat and but half -repressing his surprise. - -"Turn round and drive back. Be quick, make them go: do you hear?" - -"Yah, sah," answered Dan. A flush had sprung into Reynolds' cheeks -in response to his sudden resolve. How could he ever have thought of -abandoning her in this cowardly way? She is mine, he thought, she -loves me, he has no right to her now: I will go back and claim my own -with a force that shall be irresistible. - -"Drive faster, Dan, do you hear, drive faster!" - -"Yah, sah, boss." - -The mares put themselves forth to their utmost, gladly reaching back -toward home. For a minute or two Reynolds was wholly in the power of -this new mood. But it passed as suddenly as it had come, and again, -with redoubled weight, the load of despair returned. - -"Hold up, Dan, hold up!" - -"Yah, sah." Dan once more brought the equipage to a standstill. - -Flickering expressions of hesitancy, faltering and giving up of hope, -played for a brief space of time on Reynolds' face, before he could -say: - -"Turn again: drive to Montgomery." - -"By jiffs!" muttered Dan, sotto voce, "is de boss done gone -'stracted?" - -He obeyed the order, however, not caring to risk the consequences of -any open symptoms of disapproval. He was well aware that a storm was -pent up in Reynolds' bosom, and he dreaded lest the slightest slip -should turn its blasts and buffets loose upon him. - -"Faster, can't you, Dan?" urged the heavy rasping voice behind him, -and the half-frightened negro touched the spirited team with the -whip. Away they flew, at what horsemen call a three-minute pace, -flashing through the spaces of sunshine and sweeping over the long -stretches of shade, until the open country was again reached, where, -between straggling worm fences, the road cut across vast fertile -plantations. - -At length in the distance, crowning a swell of billowy, irregular -land, Montgomery appeared, with its clay-red streets slanting up -between long lines of gnarled trees and its house-roofs and -church-spires struggling through the greenery of vines and orchards, -and the gloom of old dusky groves. On the highest point the grayish -white, rectangular capitol, with its heavy columns and diminutive -windows, gleamed bare and almost barn-like, in contrast with the -embowered and picturesque residences surrounding it. - -Just before they entered a street of the city, they met Beresford and -another gentleman going toward the country in an open road wagon. -They had their guns and dogs. Beresford bowed and lifted his hat. -Reynolds returned the salute, rather from force of habit than from -any real notice given to the courtesy, but the incident took his -thoughts back past the drear defeat of to-day, to the sweet victory -of that short period now glimmering as if on the uttermost horizon of -memory. - -"Drive directly to the railroad depot, Dan," he said, and all the way -through the city he sat calmly erect, like some thoughtful -professional man going to his office. - -It was some time past noon when they reached the station and there -was no train until after nightfall. - -Reynolds gave Dan a liberal reward in money. - -"Good-by, Dan," he said, "don't drive the mares so fast going back: -they appear tired." - -"Pow'ful hard on 'em, boss, a rushin' 'em disway an' dat way an' a -makin' 'em go der bes' licks all de way, up hill an' down. By jiffs, -but I's erfeared dey'd drap afo' dey got yer, boss!" - -Reynolds turned away and began walking back and forth on the station -platform. A beautiful reach of the Alabama river lay in full view, -under high bluffs of chocolate-colored clay, and the breeze came over -the water sweet and cool. - -Dan mounted to his seat and prepared to drive up into the city, where -he intended to get something to eat for himself and horses. - -"Hold a moment," called Reynolds, taking a pencil and a small -memorandum-book from his pocket, "wait till I write a few words." He -began rapidly writing, then stopped and tore up the leaf, looked -aimlessly about for a time and turned abruptly off, saying in a -strangely dry voice: - -"Never mind: good-by, Dan." - -The carriage rolled away, the sound of its wheels on the street -coming back to his ears in gradually diminishing clacks, reminding -him that the last fragile link that had connected him with the old -plantation was broken. He walked across the railroad tracks and sat -down on a breezy point of the bluff overhanging the river. There was -something in the river, there was something in the wind, the water, -the sky and the wide horizon that cooled the fever in his blood for -the time and set his brain to work with less confusion. His long -years of hermit life had developed in him the habit of self-communion -to such an extent that it required solitude to reduce his distracted -faculties to something near their normal relations. We who view from -the mere artist's standpoint the operations of those influences that -control the destinies of men, sometimes see a hideous stroke of humor -in the doings of fate. Tragedy and comedy lie so close to each -other, that a mere change of intonation in the reading of a line may -determine the difference between them. So, in reality, what under -one light is incomparably tragic may, under another, appear trivial -and almost comic. Beresford's failure with Agnes Ransom, though just -as final and conclusive, seems a small thing beside the overwhelming -disaster that fell upon Reynolds in the same field, and yet one might -say: failure can go no further than failure: Beresford lost all,--how -could Reynolds lose more? Is it really a more hopeless and tragic -thing to love and be loved and lose than to love and not be loved and -lose? Was it the difference between the men, or the circumstances, -that enabled Beresford to take pleasure in a friend, his dogs and his -gun, whilst Reynolds sat dreary-hearted, wretched, unconsolable, with -folded hands and bowed head, alone by the river? This set of -questions may not be solved by any artistic analysis. The solution -is in the bold impression of the facts caught at a glance by every -one who has any considerable reach of human sympathy. - -When at last Reynolds grew calm enough to examine the situation -somewhat in the light of cold reason, he saw that Agnes, not himself, -must bear the heaviest load of any one connected therewith. He knew -that she loved him and that, loving him, she would devote the rest of -her life to one whom she could not love, but to whom the laws of man -and of duty, and every dictate of a pure conscience, bound her. -Viewing it thus, his life seemed to end in a _cul-de-sac_. It had -been a barren life, for the most part, so far, even worse than -barren; it had been evil in no small degree. Conscience leaped upon -him and shook him as a wild beast shakes and worries its prey. He -felt its fangs and welcomed the agony they inflicted, as a relief -from the terrible numbness that had taken possession of him and -beside which any pain was pleasure. - -It was almost dark when he went back to the station and entered the -little waiting-room, where Dan had deposited his traveling-bag, and -sat down on a bench to wait for the train. Several persons were -there, impatient to be going, as travelers by rail usually are, but -Reynolds was not in sympathy with their mood. He felt no concern -about the train, whether ten minutes or ten hours late. Why should -he not be just as content while waiting for a train as while doing -any thing else? What more interest was it to him to be going than it -was to be staying? The thought of the cabin and its household, of -White's oddities and humorous absurdities, and of Milly's faithful -patience and plebeian sweetness and sincerity, did not draw him: in -fact it repelled him. Why go back there at all? Why not go to -England and join Moreton, or to Egypt and engage with Doctor Blank -(another friend of his) in his scientific explorations? Then again -came conscience, with waving mane and flaming eyes, roaring and -baring its fangs. He could see no promise of escape from the -torment. But why should he struggle? He got up and walked to and -fro, as did the other restless waiters for the train. Strange what -tricks the brain plays under every sort of strain and torture. The -turmoil of his thoughts, like some tempest-tumbled sea, kept tossing -lightly on its surface as the sea might have tossed a cork, those -simple rhymes about - - "The light of her eyes - And the dew of her lips, - Where the moth never flies - And the bee never sips." - -He could not help it, any more than he could calm the awful -underswell of despair. He was far from feeling any presence of good -in all this agony. No sense of a coming purification, as a result of -the heat to which his soul was subjected. That his nature was giving -way before the intense blast of the furnace, he may have known, but -he had no thought of any separation of the little gold of good from -the mass of evil. How could he ever again think of trying to do -good? What a life of heavenly happiness he had just missed! He -clung desperately to the sensuous picture his memory kept before him, -reveling in the torture it generated. No thought of the future -entered his mind, unless the form of poor little Milly, which now and -again appeared to him, might be called a thought. From the outlines -of her supple figure and haunting face he shrank with an inward -shudder. Then suddenly, by some obscure cerebral operation, a -glimpse, momentary but thrillingly sharp and clear, disclosed to him -that other extreme of his situation. What a vast arc between the two -confines of oscillation! Agnes Ransom, Milly White! Now, at last, -he felt himself shriveling and wasting in the fire, as the blast from -the tuyeres of God's furnace was doubled and trebled. He began to -imagine how it all was to end, while some strange, thrilling whisper -suggested the outlines of duty. Duty! what did he care for duty! -Why should he, whose sweetest hopes had been dissipated by this -breath of providence, have any care for the happiness of others? But -his rebellion was weak. He arose, as the cars came crashing up to -the station, and prepared himself for he knew not what. Almost any -thing would be welcome. There seemed to be no place for him save the -barren, dreary cabin in the mountains. As he realized this, once -more his old arrogant nature flared up. "I will not go there," he -thought, and his cheeks flushed. "I will not be the dupe of -circumstance. I will go to the ends of the earth first." -Nevertheless, he went aboard the train and took his seat in a car -which was well filled with happy tourists returning to their Northern -homes. The first person upon whom his eyes chanced to fall was Miss -Crabb. She was busy with her note-book and pencil, her chin drawn -down and her brow con tracted with intense thought. He shrank from -her, as from something unbearable, and forthwith slipped away into -another car. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -AFTER ALL. - -White's cabin was better than the average Sand-Mountain house, but -its surroundings were not so inviting as those where considerable -farms, with orchards and garden plats, gave an air of frugal thrift, -almost of comfort to the scene, at some points in the lower valleys. -It was built of pine logs, split into halves, the flat side turned -in, and the apertures between covered with long clap-boards of pine, -rove with the grain, and smoothed with a drawing-knife. The -chimneys, which were spacious, consisted of pens of split sticks, -built from the ground to a little above the roof, and heavily daubed -with red clay. An arid little clearing whose stumpy, rain-washed -fields lay as if on edge, leaning against the mountain-side, showed -that a light crop of tobacco or a doubtful yield of maize "nubbins" -would be the best return that labor might hope for from the soilless -clay and the dry, lifeless monotony of the mountain summers. This -clearing was all on one side of the cabin, reaching down toward the -little valley, whilst on the other three sides the forest was -unbroken, saving that, further up the mountain, wind and fire had -done their work for ages. The fences about the place were old and -neglected, grown over by vines and shrubs of various kinds, and the -little gate in front, made of wattled boards, hung askew on rude -hinges of hickory withes. Just outside of this gate, between it and -the road, was a small space which for many years, ever since the -cabin was built, in fact, had been used for piling up, cutting and -splitting the wood and pine knots used by the household, and upon -which a moldy mass of chips, bark and woody fragments had slowly -accumulated. All the native trees near the cabin had long ago been -felled, and a few gnarled peach trees now grew in their stead. -Standing on the rotten door-sill and looking out across the lower -valley, one could have a fine view, over ill-shaped farm-plats and -variegated woods, of the broken masses of mountains, near and far, -with their beetling cliffs, their clustered foot-hills and their bare -stony peaks, all over-canopied with a serene blue sky. But the scene -was not one to inspire the beholder with any broad ideas of nature or -of human life. It was a dry, cramped, desolate landscape, even in -the first fresh colors of spring, when the tassels were on the trees -and the wild flowers fairly carpeted the ground, for it lacked -fertility, suggestion, promise. - -Here Milly White had been born and here she had lived to grow from -babyhood to womanhood, a wild growth, like that of the native trees, -plants and birds. Physically she was beautiful to look upon, if in -looking one could separate the physical from the other form of human -beauty; but she was strictly a product of Sand Mountain, the last -refinement of its productive forces, no doubt, approaching as near -the perfect as nature, working within such limitations and under such -hopeless restrictions, could get. It would be impossible to give in -words any fair idea of her beauty or of her ignorance; to attempt -either would appear like exaggeration. The painter would succeed no -better, for his representation could reach no further than pathetic -caricature. Her life, her condition and her surroundings composed an -instance not far out of the common in Sand Mountain existence. Her -beauty, it is true, was exceptional, as beauty is in all cases, her -ignorance was somewhat denser than the average, and her experience on -Reynolds' account, had compassed its utmost possibility of disturbing -force. In so far as her vision could go, she peered into the -paradise coveted by all girls, and dreamed the dreams of unselfish -love. Every evening she went down to the little gate and leaned upon -it, watching long and patiently for the coming of a man, as other -women do, and every morning she renewed the vigil for a time, and the -evening and the morning were a day. She had but a vague -understanding of things too vaguely understood by all girls, and she -made of Reynolds no more a god than most young women do of the men -they love. She could not realize her danger and she felt but -indefinitely how much she was risking. As days and weeks dragged by -and John did not come, she showed signs of nervous restlessness; but -she said little. Her health, instead of failing, as might have been -expected, seemed to improve. Her face filled out to full womanly -proportions, her cheeks gathering rich tints of rose and carmine, her -eyes softening and dilating as if with the wonder of some sweet, -strange discovery. She hovered, as a butterfly about a flower, over -the things in Reynolds' room. For hours she would sit before the -sketch on the easel and gaze dreamily, half forlornly at it. She -arranged and re-arranged the books, the chairs, the little worn -foot-stool, the slippers, the dressing-gown, creeping about as -noiselessly as if she feared the least sound might break her reverie. -She was lonely, despondent and nervous at times, but she did not -complain. White exhausted over and over again his stock of ingenuity -in inventing excuses for "thet ther Colonel," who, he insisted, was -"a hevin' of sech a roarin' ole time, a shootin' of birds an' a -drinkin' of liquor an' a playin' of them ther new-fangled games of -keerds." White himself had grown strangely uneasy in his manner and -his eyes had lost somewhat of their humorous light. It was beginning -to confirm itself in his mind that his idol had clay feet. He gave -up his confidence in Reynolds inch by inch, so to speak, clinging to -it with the dogged stubbornness of his narrow nature. - -Spring fell upon the mountains some weeks earlier than usual. The -old peach-trees were loaded with pale pink bloom and along the ragged -ravines a tender green ran in waving veins. Day after day was -cloudless and warm, followed by nights of such starry splendor as are -seen nowhere save in the Southern mountain regions. - -One evening Milly was at the gate, as usual, leaning over its uneven -slats, gazing down the stony road. Her father came out of the cabin, -bare-headed, pipe in mouth, with his hands thrust into his trowsers -pockets. - -"Think he air a comin' to-night, do ye, Milly?" he asked, standing -near her and looking aimlessly about. "I shedn't be s'prised ef he'd -drop along one of these yer days purty soon. Hit air a gittin' most -time for the bird-shootin' ter stop, anyhow." - -"I dremp las' night 'at he wer' dead, an' 'at's a sign, ye know," she -answered, without looking up. "I jes' know 'at he air a comin' purty -soon." - -"Ef ye do see 'im a comin' down the road ther', Milly, an' ye've a -min' ter jump over thet gate ther', w'y I shed 'vise ye ter git back -yer a leetle an' take a runnin' start so's to be shore not to trip er -nothin'." White chuckled dryly at the end of his speech, as if -enjoying the scene it suggested; but receiving no reply from the girl -his face resumed its look of stolid repose, albeit his eyes wandered -restlessly without seeming to see any thing. - -The sun was down, an hour ago, and the stillness of night had fallen -on the wide, rugged landscape. There was scarcely wind enough to -bear away the light jets of tobacco smoke puffed sharply now and then -from the man's mouth. - -"I dremp las' night, too, 'at the Colonel he wer' dead, Milly," he -presently said; but he did not add that he dreamed that the Colonel -had been killed, and by his hand. - -"I'm jest a lookin' for 'im now, an' a 'spectin' 'im ever' minute," -she replied, her voice quavering sweetly, her limbs trembling. - -White swallowed, as if something hurt his throat, and pressed a -finger vigorously into his pipe. The muscles of his face twitched -convulsively. - -"Oh, I consider 'at we'd better go inter the house, Milly," he urged, -"for hit air not 'tall s'posible 'at the Colonel he'll come to-night; -but he air comin' shore ter-morrer, that's es sarting es gun's iron, -Milly." - -"Lis'n, pap, I yer somethin' like he wer' a walkin' up the road this -yer way: lis'n!" She shook her hand at him in token of silence, but -did not turn her head, leaning far over the gate. - -"Hit ain't him, Milly, he'd be er singin' er song, ef hit wer' him. -Don't ye 'member how he used ter warble them cur'us chunes when he -wer' a comin'?" - -"Keep still, I tell ye, pap, for I know 'at I jest do yer 'im a -comin' down ther'." - -"Mebbe ye do, s'pec ye do," said White with a shake of his head, "but -hit air ter-morrer 'at ye yer 'im a comin'. He air dead shore to -roll in ter-morrer. Don't ye fret, he air a comin' 'fore long, -Milly." - -"He air a comin' right now: oh!" she cried, and flinging open the -gate, she slipped through like a bird and ran down the road. - -"I knowed 'at ye'd come, John, oh, John! John!" White heard her say, -her voice cutting with shrill sweetness through the still evening air. - -He went through the gateway, and, stumbling over the wood-pile, -walked rapidly after her. Sure enough, there was Reynolds in the -middle of the road, with Milly clinging to him. They were in a place -where the strong star-light dimly outlined them. White stopped short -and actually reeled like a drunken man. He went no nearer to them, -but turned and staggered rather than walked back into the cabin. - -"Hit air all right, mother," he said to his wife as he entered. "He -air out ther'--the Colonel air." - -She looked up with a start, for his voice was thick with excitement. - -"She--she--Milly'll be all right now. She won't go erstracted now, -mother," he added, dropping into a chair and beginning to refill his -pipe. - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Milly: At Love's Extremes, by Maurice Thompson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MILLY: AT LOVE'S EXTREMES *** - -***** This file should be named 63876-8.txt or 63876-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/7/63876/ - -Produced by Al Haines -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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