diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/63876-h/63876-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63876-h/63876-h.htm | 11513 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 11513 deletions
diff --git a/old/63876-h/63876-h.htm b/old/63876-h/63876-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 3c733d1..0000000 --- a/old/63876-h/63876-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11513 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> - -<head> - -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> - -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> - -<title> -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Milly: At Love's Extremes, by Maurice Thompson -</title> - -<style type="text/css"> -body { color: black; - background: white; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-left: 10%; - font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; - text-align: justify } - -p {text-indent: 4% } - -p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } - -p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 200%; - text-align: center } - -p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 150%; - text-align: center } - -p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 150%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 100%; - text-align: center } - -p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 100%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - text-align: center } - -p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 60%; - text-align: center } - -h1 { text-align: center } -h2 { text-align: center } -h3 { text-align: center } -h4 { text-align: center } -h5 { text-align: center } - -p.poem {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10%; } - -p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; - letter-spacing: 4em ; - text-align: center } - -p.letter {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } - -p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -p.intro {font-size: 90% ; - text-indent: -5% ; - margin-left: 5% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; - margin-left: 0% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.finis { font-size: larger ; - text-align: center ; - text-indent: 0% ; - margin-left: 0% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.capcenter { margin-left: 0; - margin-right: 0 ; - margin-bottom: .5% ; - margin-top: 0; - font-weight: bold; - float: none ; - clear: both ; - text-indent: 0%; - text-align: center } - -img.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; - margin-bottom: 0; - margin-top: 1%; - margin-right: auto; } - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -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 - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-cover"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-cover.jpg" alt="Cover art" /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-front"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt=""Wonder ef John haint a comin', Pap?" Page 8." /> -<br /> -"Wonder ef John haint a comin', Pap?" <i><a href="#page8">Page 8</a></i>. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-title"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-title.jpg" alt="Title page" /> -</p> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - MILLY:<br /> - <i>At Love's Extremes</i><br /> -</h1> - -<p class="t3b"> - A Romance of the Southland<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - <i>By</i> MAURICE THOMPSON<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - Author of "Alice of Old Vincennes"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - <i>ILLUSTRATED</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - Printed and Bound for the New Amsterdam Book<br /> - Company, New York City, Anno Domini Mcmi<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - Copyright, 1901<br /> - by<br /> - New Amsterdam Book Company -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> -<i>Milly: At Love's Extremes</i> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -CONTENTS. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - CHAPTER I. <a href="#chap01">MOUNTAIN DEW</a><br /> - CHAPTER II. <a href="#chap02">MILLY</a><br /> - CHAPTER III. <a href="#chap03">MR. HAWKINS NOBLE</a><br /> - CHAPTER IV. <a href="#chap04">WHITE PLAYS "SEVING UP"</a><br /> - CHAPTER V. <a href="#chap05">SOME LIGHT TALK</a><br /> - CHAPTER VI. <a href="#chap06">AT THE GATE</a><br /> - CHAPTER VII. <a href="#chap07">AN OLD PLANTATION HOUSE</a><br /> - CHAPTER VIII. <a href="#chap08">WITH DOG AND GUN</a><br /> - CHAPTER IX. <a href="#chap09">LUNCHEON AL FRESCO</a><br /> - CHAPTER X. <a href="#chap10">MILLY INQUIRES</a><br /> - CHAPTER XI. <a href="#chap11">DALLYING</a><br /> - CHAPTER XII. <a href="#chap12">A BIT OF LOVE MAKING</a><br /> - CHAPTER XIII. <a href="#chap13">AT THE RUIN</a><br /> - CHAPTER XIV. <a href="#chap14">A WHISPER IN THE CABIN</a><br /> - CHAPTER XV. <a href="#chap15">A DISCLOSURE</a><br /> - CHAPTER XVI. <a href="#chap16">CONVALESCENT</a><br /> - CHAPTER XVII. <a href="#chap17">DREAMS AND PLANS</a><br /> - CHAPTER XVIII. <a href="#chap18">REALITIES</a><br /> - CHAPTER XIX. <a href="#chap19">WHITHER</a><br /> - CHAPTER XX. <a href="#chap20">AFTER ALL</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -MILLY: -<br /> -AT LOVE'S EXTREMES -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER I. -<br /><br /> -MOUNTAIN DEW. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Come Nat," he said to his dog, "we must be going -back; a nasty squall is coming. We shall get our -jackets wet." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Lay off yer coat, strenger, an' git yer shirt dry; -hit's outdacious onagreeable fur to hev on a wet -shirt." -</p> - -<p> -Moreton smiled pleasantly. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, I will," he said, rising and stripping -off the stiff jacket. "You are very kind. I am -covering your floor with water." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page8"></a> -"Wonder ef John haint a comin', Pap?" -</p> - -<p> -This sudden inquiry came in a sweet, half-shy voice -from the girl at the window. -</p> - -<p> -"She calls him John, I calls him Colonel," explained -the man. Then turning to answer the question: -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Do ye ever smoke a pipe, stranger?" inquired -the host, offering Moreton a cob pipe and a twist of -tobacco. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -They formed a strange group around that cabin fire. -Moreton felt the democratic force of the situation and -enjoyed it to the full. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"'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." -</p> - -<p> -White dived under the bed in question and drew -forth a large earthen bottle. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. White fetched a large, heavy tumbler and -handed it to Moreton. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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' <i>he's</i> traveled, <i>he</i> hes. -<i>He's</i> been in furren parts, Rome an' France an' them -air places." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -White partook sparingly of the precious beverage, -and then carefully replaced the bottle in its -hiding-place under the bed. -</p> - -<p> -Meantime the heavy throbs of wind and rain shook -the cabin to its foundation. -</p> - -<p> -When the mountaineer returned to his chair by the -fire, Moreton inquired of him where the brandy was -made. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II. -<br /><br /> -MILLY. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Where is Mr. Reynolds?" -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"Ye don't hev any 'quaintance of the Colonel, hev -ye?" -</p> - -<p> -"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—" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Six years ago, I think you told me." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, a leetle the rise of six. The Colonel he kem -yer in Septem'er." -</p> - -<p> -"Sings well, the Colonel, does he?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Plays superbly on the guitar?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -White's sallow face betrayed, as he finished speaking, -a perfect faith in the legitimacy of his humor, and -Moreton felt bound to laugh. -</p> - -<p> -At this point the girl came shyly to the door and -said: -</p> - -<p> -"Pap, dinner air ready." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"MY DEAR REYNOLDS: -</p> - -<p> -"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 -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"EDWARD MORETON." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you be kind enough," he said to her, "to hand -Colonel Reynolds this letter when he comes home?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Unconsciously he used a wheedling tone in speaking -to her, as he would have done in trying to coax a little -child. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -Moreton smiled and shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What air a grand feller? What d'ye mean by -that there?" she slowly asked. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III. -<br /><br /> -MR. HAWKINS NOBLE. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"She is married," said Moreton, "and is living in -Florence. Her husband is Count somebody and she -is an invalid, so I have heard." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But what a form and what a haunting, hungry, -sweet face she has!" -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds looked with a sudden surprise into Moreton's -eyes, his own dilating. Presently he laughed -again. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Every thing <i>au sérieux</i>, 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——" -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds interrupted him: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds laughed and waved aside the wine his -friend offered. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"It strikes me deuced hard," answered Moreton. -"Don't you know I never did refuse a thing like that, -never." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Moreton rose. -</p> - -<p> -"Allow me, Mr. Noble, to present my friend, Colonel -Reynolds, who is a most enthusiastic sportsman -and who has a choice kennel." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, I thank you, indeed, sir, but I can hardly say -whether——" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Moreton laughed as a vision of Mr. Noble's -charming daughter arose in his mind. She at least -would be one of the party. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV. -<br /><br /> -WHITE PLAYS "SEVING UP." -</h3> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -On the instant there would have been deadly work, -had not Moreton interfered. -</p> - -<p> -"Here! what does this mean?" he exclaimed in a -loud, authoritative way, stepping boldly into the midst -of the men. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"What sort of a beastly trouble is this you have -been getting into? What was all that quarrel about?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you going out to your home to-night?" -inquired Moreton. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -After a moment of silence, he added in a hesitating -way: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The two men walked on together to a point where -they must separate if White went home. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Prompted by some impulse quite foreign to his -English nature, Moreton held out his hand and said: -</p> - -<p> -"Don't forget to give my kindest regards to your -wife and daughter." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -Moreton assured him that Reynolds would come -home within a few days, and they parted. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Hello, Milly!" he gently exclaimed. "Hain't ye -gone ter bed yet?" -</p> - -<p> -She unlatched the gate for him without speaking. -He passed through and took her by the arm. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I wush he would come," she murmured, and followed -her father into the cabin. -</p> - -<p> -Meantime Moreton went to his hotel, where he met -Reynolds, to whom he gave the details of his street -adventure. -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds' face darkened a little. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Did he say that his <i>weemin</i>, as he calls them, were -uneasy about me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Something of the sort, I believe, but I gave him -satisfactory assurance. He'll report you all right." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"He told me in all seriousness," Moreton deliberately -but lightly added, "that his daughter believed -you would never come back." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V. -<br /><br /> -SOME LIGHT TALK. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"Well, let's go into this palace of pleasure and -perhaps I may there get my conscience purified in the -light of—" -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "The light of her eyes<br /> - And the dew of her lips,<br /> - Where the moth never flies<br /> - And the bee never sips,"—<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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 <i>elite</i> -of Montgomery as well as the <i>bon ton</i> of Birmingham, -if I guess correctly." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he answered, "and I expect a most delightful -time. I hope you are going too?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Are they pointers, setters or droppers?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"One is a pointer, the other a setter," he answered. -</p> - -<p> -"And do they work well together? Do they understand -each other's movements, back each other, and all -that?" she inquired. -</p> - -<p> -"In the most perfect way imaginable. They are -like perfectly drilled soldiers, their minds seem to keep -pace exactly." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"When I was in India I saw a young lady shoot -at a tiger," said Reynolds, "but she missed it." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, yes, the whole blue heaven to sail across; I had -forgotten that her glory, after all, was mostly -moonshine." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"How good of you," she exclaimed delightedly; "it -will be charming. Don't tell mamma, she would -ridicule me out of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Never; I shall die with the secret, if need be. I -would not miss seeing you fire your first shot for any -thing." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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 <i>encore</i> -and——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I think you would like any thing that—that—you -ought to like," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "The light of her eyes<br /> - And the dew of her lips,<br /> - Where the moth never flies<br /> - And the bee never sips,"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds did not answer promptly, but kept his -eyes on Moreton's face while they walked two or three -paces. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds laughed, and laying his hand on Moreton's -arm, said: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Noble is an exceptional American girl. She -has all the naïveté and freshness of the country -without any trace of its deuced vulgarity." -</p> - -<p> -"Your long residence of two months in this great -country fully equips you for criticism," replied Reynolds -with mock gravity. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "The light of her eyes<br /> - And the dew of her lips,<br /> - Where the moth never flies<br /> - And the bee never sips."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI. -<br /><br /> -AT THE GATE. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 -<i>nom de plume</i>, 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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I knowed 'at ye'd come," she said, "fur I dremp -last night at ye was dead an' 'at's a sign, ye know." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-068"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-068.jpg" alt="Her voice was like the quick musical chirp of a glad bird. She clung to him with strong, loving arms. Page 68." /> -<br /> -Her voice was like the quick musical chirp of a glad bird. <br /> -She clung to him with strong, loving arms. <i>Page 68</i>. -</p> - -<p> -He let her go presently and said: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, come in now," he gently urged, drawing the -long pale brush of her hair through his hand and -passing on into the cabin. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Did you draw this, Milly?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Get me my slippers, please, Milly," he presently -said, more to break up the situation than with a desire -to be served. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"I loaded three hunderd carterges fur the twelve-bore -gun." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, I'm glad of that. Good night," said -Reynolds, anxious to get back to his thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -White withdrew his head. -</p> - -<p> -Milly, from the shadows of the kitchen, gazed fixedly -at Reynolds, as he stood in the mellow light of the lamp. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you here for, Milly?" he demanded -sternly. "Go back immediately." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII. -<br /><br /> -AN OLD PLANTATION HOUSE. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, Miss Crabb, what journal do you represent?" -inquired Mr. Beresford in a voice modulated to the -gentlest southern inflections. -</p> - -<p> -"The Ringville <i>Star</i>, of Ringville, Indiana. I am the -associate editor," she glibly responded. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Beresford very much desired to talk with Mrs. Ransom, -but the glib representative of the <i>Star</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a fine shot, Mr. Beresford, I presume," -continued Miss Crabb, "kill birds on the wing?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-088"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-088.jpg" alt="It was a slight thing, but it was to him the sweetest part of the dinner. Page 88." /> -<br /> -It was a slight thing, but it was to him the sweetest <br /> -part of the dinner. <i>Page 88</i>. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It is quite charming to dine under such ministration," -said Reynolds, while receiving some delicate -dish from the steady little hand, "but I should——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She passed on, without giving him any chance for -further words. Beresford, who sat opposite, begrudged -every syllable she had uttered. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "De raccoon am a cunnin' ting,<br /> - He rammel in de dahk,<br /> - Wid nuffin' 'tall fo' to 'stu'b he mind,<br /> - Tell he yer my 'coon-dog bahk!"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><br /> -WITH DOG AND GUN. -</h3> - -<p class="poem"> - "A westerly wind and a cloudy sky,<br /> - Proclaim it a hunting morning,"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -As fresh bevies were flushed and the birds scattered -themselves over a wide area, the sportsmen became -separated, or hunted in twos and threes. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope Mr. Reynolds will get outrageously beaten," -exclaimed Miss Noble, "I really do." -</p> - -<p> -"Why?" asked the editor. -</p> - -<p> -"Because I do," was the response so perfectly -intelligible and satisfactory to all women. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh," said Miss Crabb, "you have a grudge, have -you?" -</p> - -<p> -"He promised me he would teach me how to shoot," -Cordelia laughingly responded, "and, like all men, he -has not kept his word." -</p> - -<p> -"There! did you see that?" cried Miss Crabb still -intently surveying the distant shooters. -</p> - -<p> -"No, what was it?" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Very finely, indeed," was Miss Crabb's ready -response. "The honors seem to lie between him and -Mr. Reynolds. They easily lead the rest." -</p> - -<p> -"My brother never has been beaten, I believe," Miss -Beresford went on. "He is said to be the best shot in -the state." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Miss Beresford smiled rather incredulously, as if her -faith in her brother's superiority could not so easily -be shaken. -</p> - -<p> -"But they are all getting so far away that I can not -be sure any longer," continued the observant editor in -an apologizing tone. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Cordelia went to where Mrs. Ransom was busy with -the bay leaves and sat down on the dry ground beside -her. -</p> - -<p> -"A victor's crown," she said gayly. "So you are -going to reward the winner?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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— -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't look very sad, even now," said Mrs. Ransom, -wholly recovering her sweet, half-sad smile. -</p> - -<p> -Cordelia laughed merrily. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"Had been sour!" interrupted Cordelia with a -ringing laugh. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll give you a thousand dollars cash for him!" -exclaimed the banker excitedly. -</p> - -<p> -The entire party broke forth with hearty applause. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"A charmingly airy place you have: may I join you? -I am really quite tired." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"The hat is not of a kind to bear much embellishment." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Put it on and let me see how it will look," he said. -"I pride myself in my ability to trim hats." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"I like it, it becomes you: please let it stay, will you? -You are lovely when you look like that." -</p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-107"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-107.jpg" alt=""You are lovely when you look like that." Page 107.]" /> -<br /> -"You are lovely when you look like that." <i>Page 107</i>.] -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope I have not offended you, you are not——" -he earnestly began. -</p> - -<p> -She interrupted him with a little laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing so serious as that," she lightly exclaimed, -waving one fair hand. "It is time for us to be looking -after the luncheon." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yonder is uncle," she murmured. "Poor old man, I -know he's tired!" and she almost ran to meet General -DeKay. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>svelt</i>, 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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX. -<br /><br /> -LUNCHEON AL FRESCO. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>eclat</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Very unusual," he answered in a suffering tone, "very." -</p> - -<p> -She made some rapid notes in the red book. Then -looking up, with the end of the pencil against her teeth, -said: -</p> - -<p> -"And he struck the ground, stanch on his nose, at -a half-turn; is that right?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And if I should write one," she answered, her face -growing serious, "I couldn't get it printed." -</p> - -<p> -"Why?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, the publishers don't want provincial stories, -they are not in vogue now." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Miss Crabb smiled and shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She sighed regretfully as she ended, as if the subject -had awakened sad memories. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, if I were a critic," said he, with a light laugh, -"I'd give your story a genuine indorsement of authority." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Boardman laughed. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"My uncle says so too," she responded, "and he is -enthusiastic about the dog, the one that did the fine act." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Give me your score, Mr. Beresford, please," said -Miss Crabb, coming forward with her book and pencil. -</p> - -<p> -"Thirty-three," he promptly answered. His sister's -face flushed with anger. She turned to him and said -under her breath: -</p> - -<p> -"She shall not do that—she shall not publish it!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Miss Crabb had hurried away to where Reynolds was -seated. She was intent upon getting the precise status -of things. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"To the victor belongs the crown!" she added, -laughing merrily. "See, Mrs. Ransom, I've put your -handiwork to noble use!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't do that, Moreton, if you love me; my cabin -is my castle and my sanctuary," Reynolds answered in -mock earnestness. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Reynolds is an artist," said Moreton with a -sidelong glance at his friend. -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds' dogs looked at him with a sneaking leer -in their eyes, as if they felt the disgrace of their -master. -</p> - -<p> -"That's one debt paid!" Moreton cried. "Credit -me, will you?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X. -<br /><br /> -MILLY INQUIRES. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -When they reached town White gave Milly a pittance -of money and said: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"I wanted ter ax ef ye hed seed any thing o' John -Reynolds 'bout this yer town?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Air ye the feller 'at come to our house thet day?" -</p> - -<p> -The man, a tall fellow, not unlike Moreton -physically, looked down at this pleasing apparition, and for -want of better response, said: -</p> - -<p> -"What day?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thet air day 'at hit rained so, an' ye tuck dinner, -an' staid all day. Don't ye 'member?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ye know—I'm Mr. White's girl, up ther' wher' ye -fotch the turkeys thet air rainy day." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"We're all well," responded Milly. "I wushed to -ax ye ef ye've seed John Reynolds lately." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She shot a quick, almost wild look into his face, -stared at him a moment and then slowly inquired: -</p> - -<p> -"What air yer name?" -</p> - -<p> -He actually reddened with confusion, and was at a -loss what to answer. He saw that she had discovered -his deceit. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Ye'r' not thet man—ye'r'——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes had assumed a vague, distressed look and -her lips quivered again. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -The street was a disreputable one and there was a -narrow alley near where they stood. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Her strange, troubled face brightened a little. -</p> - -<p> -"Then, ef ye'r' my friend," she quickly said, "go an' -tell 'im at I wush he'd please kem home." -</p> - -<p> -The man laughed, looked at her quizzically for a time, -and then in a tone, half of vexation and half of -amusement, said: -</p> - -<p> -"Well, if you aren't the dangedest curiosity I ever -saw! You ought to travel with Barnum." -</p> - -<p> -He gazed at her intently from head to foot, his face -softening. -</p> - -<p> -"You've no business trotting around loose in these -suburbs," he muttered, more to himself than to her, -then quite <i>solus</i> he added: "She's cracked: she's an -idiot." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is your home?" he continued. -</p> - -<p> -"Over to the tother side o' the mounting, at -Mr. White's," she frankly answered. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-129"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-129.jpg" alt=""W'y, ole Ben, air ye tired er waiten'?" she exclaimed. Page 129." /> -<br /> -"W'y, ole Ben, air ye tired er waiten'?" <br /> -she exclaimed. <i>Page 129</i>. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Ben, hit air no use er stayin' yer any longer, -I 'spec' at pap he air drunk. Git erp ther', Ben!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Wher' air yer pap?" was the laconic inquiry. -</p> - -<p> -"Drunk, I 'spec'," was the answer. -</p> - -<p> -"An' er playin' of keerds," suggested Mrs. White. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I 'spec'." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Do he go wuth them air fine folks?" she presently -inquired, in a dry, doleful voice. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Milly put her hands together and rested them on her -head with their fingers intertwined. She appeared to -be considering some troublesome proposition. -</p> - -<p> -"Do ye s'pose them folks'll make fun of we-uns to -'im?" -</p> - -<p> -White chuckled. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't keer airy dam ef they do," he said, -contemptuously snapping his thumb and finger. "Let 'em -sail in." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Spec' so; dunno," she said, looking dully at him. -"I wush he had er staid yer an' kep' away f'om down -ther'." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI. -<br /><br /> -DALLYING. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"If that is the case," said Moreton, "if I were a -woman I should try and not marry." -</p> - -<p> -Miss Crabb laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -She laughed again, a clear, honest, prairie laugh, -throwing back her head and holding up one hand as if -to ward off something. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She looked up at him with a flash of momentary -anger in her eyes, then laughing again she said: -</p> - -<p> -"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 <i>must</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"They are brutes, they ought to be punched, don't -you know," he blurted; "they deserve no recognition -by gentlemen." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but they <i>do</i> get recognition," she replied, -half-mournfully. "They drink and smoke and swear -themselves into prominence in every walk of life—into -fame, fortune, and——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, not so bad as that, I hope," he interposed. -"Don't be discouraged. George Eliot and Georges -Sand and——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, suppose you try adopting a masculine -pseudonym, you might——" -</p> - -<p> -"Never!" she exclaimed, with a little stamp of the -foot. "Never! I shall win my way as a woman or not -at all." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Moreton breathed freer when she was gone. Her -state of ferment, of restless effort, tired him. -</p> - -<p> -Two or three hours later when he and Reynolds sat -by a window of the latter's room, smoking cigars, he -said: -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Crabb told me something a while ago that -surprised and touched me." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"She gave me an account of Mrs. Ransom's -troubles," said Moreton. "It seems that hers has -been a rather rough cruise." -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds clamped his cigar between his teeth and -looked up. -</p> - -<p> -"I know, I know," he said, in a half-impatient voice. -"Her husband deserted her." -</p> - -<p> -"And was murdered out on the Texas border," -added Moreton. -</p> - -<p> -"Murdered," said Reynolds, as if weighing the -word. "There has been a great deal of that sort of -thing in Texas." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Moreton laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds waved his hand impatiently and said -almost abruptly: -</p> - -<p> -"If she really loved her husband, in the first place, -it must have been a dreadful ordeal she went -through." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds' countenance changed abruptly; he essayed -to laugh, but there was no sincerity in the effort. He -shook his head and answered: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"If you have as sweet dreams as I expect to indulge -in to-night, tell me in the morning, will you? Good -night." -</p> - -<p> -But Moreton, who slept lightly, awoke now and -then, and heard him walking to and fro all the rest of -the night. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII. -<br /><br /> -A BIT OF LOVE MAKING. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Among them all it was silently noted how Mrs. Ransom -and Reynolds were drawn towards each other. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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>I</i> tell yo'." -</p> - -<p> -"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; <i>she</i> kin' -peek fo' de Lor' sake!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-by, Miss Crabb, I wish you great success," he -responded, cordially taking her hand. It was the best -he could do. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Moreton smiled, as one who gives up a sentiment -rather reluctantly is apt to do, and said: -</p> - -<p> -"Still I would rather not see it; she appeared out of -place, somehow." -</p> - -<p> -"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—— -</p> - -<p> -"No, I beg your pardon," hastily spoke up Moreton. -"You do her wrong. She <i>did</i> feel very keenly that she -was <i>de trop</i>, 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." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -She laughed, but she blushed as well, and looked -away from him as she answered in what she meant for -a very careless tone: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Aren't you very happy here?" he went on, leaning -a little toward her. "I want you to be very happy." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Moreton looked at her with tender fervor, the power -of love full upon him, and yet the silly rhyme kept -ringing in his brain: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "The light of her eyes,<br /> - And the dew of her lips,<br /> - Where the moth never flies<br /> - And the bee never sips."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"You might make some one happy. That would be good." -</p> - -<p> -"I have no knack; I am selfish, frivolous, intent -upon my own happiness," she said, looking up with a -bright smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Just a word, sometimes, is better than any other -alms," he continued. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"Do you love me, Cordelia?" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"They're going for a row on the river: why didn't -we think of that? I delight in going out on the -water." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not be put aside so lightly," he went on; "I -can't bear it. You must answer me, Cordelia." -</p> - -<p> -"Answer you what?" -</p> - -<p> -He sprang to his feet, and stood gazing down at her -with his face actually pale with emotion. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't mean it? You can't mean to drive me -from you in this way?" he cried, his voice a little -husky. -</p> - -<p> -"Sit down, do, they're looking at us—they'll know -what it is," she murmured, making a deprecatory -gesture with her hand. -</p> - -<p> -He obeyed, saying rather ungraciously as he did so: -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"You should not say such things about Agnes; she -doesn't deserve your levity." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She rose as if to go away. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><br /> -AT THE RUIN. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -The Hand that made the mirror must remove the -spots of tarnish. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>faux pas</i> by which the past might -be uncovered. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Now, how shall we get up to the top of the bluff?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I beat you climbing," she exclaimed, her voice -shaking a little from the effect of her exertion. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He looked about for the ruin. A tall, heavy -chimney-stack rising above a tangled mass of wild vines -and trees answered his inquiry. -</p> - -<p> -"Come this way," she said, leading on; "there is a -path, further up the slope, that goes round to the -entrance." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"How lovely!" he murmured, in that deep, rich -voice which always vibrated so strangely in her ears. -His moment had come. -</p> - -<p> -"Lovely," she echoed, and slipped away, like some -shy, wild thing afeard of its own voice. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -She looked up into his face and saw how deathly -white it was. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you hurt?" she quaveringly asked, taking a -step nearer him. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Why <i>did</i> we ever come here! Oh, love, my own -love, open your eyes! Speak to me: say you will not -die, you will not die!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"Where are you, Agnes?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it—what did you say?" she tenderly asked. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -With a strong effort he raised himself to a sitting -posture and smiled feebly. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><br /> -A WHISPER IN THE CABIN. -</h3> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Milly let her eyes fall and began digging in the -ground with the toe of one of her shoes. -</p> - -<p> -"Thet young lady, thet Miss Noble down ther', hes -she kem back?" she presently asked. -</p> - -<p> -"La, yes, she hev," quickly replied White. "Bless -yer life, yes, she kem with 'er pap. Oh, yes, she kem -too, she did." -</p> - -<p> -"What meks John stay so long?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Seems like he mought never come," she murmured, -and there were tears in her eyes as she started to go -and fetch the ox. -</p> - -<p> -White went into the house and shut the door. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, less yer what it air." -</p> - -<p> -"Ye won't tell Milly?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nairy word." -</p> - -<p> -"Sarting an' sure?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, the Colonel he air shot." -</p> - -<p> -"Shot?" -</p> - -<p> -"He air." -</p> - -<p> -"Shot?" -</p> - -<p> -"He air, sarting." -</p> - -<p> -"Goodness! an' who tole ye?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Goodness alive! Hit didn't kill 'im? The Colonel -he hain't dead?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, not dead, but he air bad off. He air laid up -in bed. He hev got a hole through 'im." -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. White began filling her pipe with great energy, -her husband following her example. There was a space -of silence, then he said: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"She mought jest as well. Hit air no use er foolin', -he's not goin' ter hev 'er." -</p> - -<p> -"Hev her! Hev <i>her</i>! w'at upon the airth are ye -talkin' 'bout?" -</p> - -<p> -"She loves 'im." -</p> - -<p> -"Milly? <i>She</i> love? <i>She</i> love <i>him</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ye-es, she-e lo-ove hi-im!" drawled Mrs. White in -a high key, wagging her head with each word. -</p> - -<p> -White looked at her in utter consternation. -</p> - -<p> -"Thet leetle silly gal love <i>him</i>? 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!" -</p> - -<p> -"She hev." -</p> - -<p> -"How d'ye know?" -</p> - -<p> -"Hain't I got no eyes, ner years?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ye hev, sarting, an' a tongue." -</p> - -<p> -"Now, smarty! Ye think ye've said somethin'!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, hit air the case, an' there's more ter come. Ye -hain't hearn the wo'st part." -</p> - -<p> -"An' what d'ye mean by thet?" -</p> - -<p> -"I mean a heap, thet's w'at I mean." -</p> - -<p> -"A heap er what?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I promerse, sarting." -</p> - -<p> -"On yer wordy honor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What is this yer what yer a hintin' at, anyhow?" -he demanded, almost fiercely. -</p> - -<p> -"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'." -</p> - -<p> -"Didn't I promerse ye? Hain't thet enough? Ef -hit tain't, what d'ye want me to do?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"On yer sacurd wordy honor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, dang it all, go on!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Ye'll keep right still, an' never say a word, er do a -single thing erbout hit?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I tole ye thet, long ago, 'bout a dozen times. -Go on, an' say what yer a goin' to." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -Tears came into her eyes and her lips quivered. -</p> - -<p> -White leaned over close to her, taking the pipe from -his mouth, and said in a low, hoarse voice: -</p> - -<p> -"What air the matter, wife?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, a heap, a heap air the matter!" she sobbed. -</p> - -<p> -White put his hand on her shoulder and brought his -ear close to her lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me now, I want er know," he gently and -gravely urged. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"'Member yer sacurd wordy honor," said the woman. -"Ye promersed me, ye know." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ye'll not brek yer wordy honor?" she insisted. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XV. -<br /><br /> -A DISCLOSURE. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"I shall soon be able to go away. I feel my strength -coming back with every breath." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad of it, for the doctor says that a quiet -mind is the best salve for a healing wound." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But you would forgive such an one," he hastily -exclaimed, looking almost eagerly into her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"I should feel it incumbent upon me to try with all -my might," she responded. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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—" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -A strange grim look settled on Reynolds' face. -</p> - -<p> -"He will never come back," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"You must, Agnes, you must," he exclaimed with a -rush of passion, "for my sake, love, for my sake." -</p> - -<p> -She sat for a moment in silence, and then, as the -tears welled up afresh in her tender eyes, she replied: -</p> - -<p> -"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—" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I can not understand—what is it you mean?—what—" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"I am the man who fought with your husband, and—" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, holding her hands out -toward him, her face ghastly. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She let her hand fall in her lap and sat in a helpless, -horrified attitude. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He trembled now and his voice broke as he said: -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Still she remained speechless, motionless, bowed -down and awfully pale. -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -She stopped him with a quick gesture. -</p> - -<p> -"I can not hear this now—I am too weak and excited. -I must go. Excuse me. I <i>must</i> go." She arose -almost with a spring and passed swiftly out of the room. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVI. -<br /><br /> -CONVALESCENT. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Mo'nin', boss, how's ye comin' on dis mo'nin', sah?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you up to this morning, Mono?" Reynolds -idly inquired, leaning at ease on the window-sill. -</p> - -<p> -"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'.'" -</p> - -<p> -"That is a true saying, Mono," said Reynolds. "It -holds good in the matter of all kinds of crops." -</p> - -<p> -"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>I</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. -</p> - -<p> -"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——" -</p> - -<p> -"Be off, you old vagabond!" stormed General -DeKay's military voice from somewhere among the -shrubbery. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I am nearly well, I hope," he replied, abetting -her in the effort to make the occasion have a -common-place appearance. -</p> - -<p> -"It is such sweet weather. Do you hear my -mocking birds?" she inquired, trying to smile. "They -have been having a stormy concert." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, they have had a real war of song all the -morning," he answered. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"One can never quite lose sight of the river here," -said Reynolds; "see how it shines under the boughs -yonder. Isn't it fine?" -</p> - -<p> -"Have you noticed that the gentle roar it had some -weeks ago is almost silenced?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I had not, but I do now," he answered; "what is -the cause?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"That is a poetical idea." -</p> - -<p> -"They have a more grotesque one about the moon -crossing the river." -</p> - -<p> -"What is that?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I have observed that myself," said Reynolds, very -gravely. -</p> - -<p> -"The moon making faces?" she exclaimed with a -little smile, looking inquiringly up into his face. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I understand it now. I had never thought of that." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Can't you think of another negro conceit? I am -sorry I spoiled the one about the moon." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"That doesn't sound much like a thought of savage -origin. It has a weak touch of civilization in it -somewhere." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, the negroes have gathered liberally from us, -no doubt," she said, reflectively stirring some dry leaves -with the toe of her tiny boot. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"No, it is coming along finely," he answered, with -an effort at cheerfulness. "I shall be going away in a -few days." -</p> - -<p> -"Not so very few; you are not strong yet." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, yes, I am beginning to feel quite like myself, -and my wound is almost healed." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall miss you when you are gone," she said, -with a little smile. "You have been my patient so -long." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But there is nothing left for me up there. Moreton -is gone, the Nobles are gone: it will be very -lonely." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Such lands must be quite valuable. Have you a -large amount?" she asked, but she could not have -told why. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, I will get some more air. You will come back, -won't you, when he is gone?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; that is, if he doesn't stay too long," answered -she with a bright smile. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -When he thought of Milly White he added: "I -shall not forget to repay her for all her faithfulness -and childish affection." -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVII. -<br /><br /> -DREAMS AND PLANS. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry he came," said Reynolds. "I felt for -him when I saw him going away; but what else could -you do?" -</p> - -<p> -"Did he look sad?" she inquired with perfect -naïveté, a sweet sorrowfulness in her voice. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She lifted her eyes to his but did not speak. -</p> - -<p> -"First of all, Agnes," he went on, "will you be my -wife?" The words fell dryly, strangely on her ear. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was inexplicable, an almost irresistible impulse -toward flight took hold of her. She could not speak. -Something forbade it. -</p> - -<p> -"Answer me, Agnes: you will marry me, won't you, -love?" His voice was low and appealing. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I will marry you," she said. -</p> - -<p> -He lifted the hands swiftly and kissed them, then he -led her to one of the seats. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds looked at him with quick inquiry and -Mrs. Ransom's face showed the shrinking of her -feelings. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I haven't read the papers for several days," said -General DeKay. "They lynched him, did they? -Hanging is the popular thing now." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you tried the trout since this fine weather has -come?" she asked, addressing Lapham. "I should think -the angling might be good now." -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What flies are best here?" inquired Reynolds, -thinking of something else. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Neither would be easily handled by a novice, I grant -you," said Reynolds with a peculiar smile. -</p> - -<p> -Lapham laughed merrily. The retort pleased him -better than his own venture. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Their life is a lonely, dreary, hopeless one," replied -Reynolds, "but they are good, and as true as steel." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"Did you go when they called you?" the General -asked, with the ready familiarity of old acquaintance. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Lapham, "I recognize the fitness of the -appellation." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Grand -Prix</i>, 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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVIII. -<br /><br /> -REALITIES. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"'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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"A week, love, and then—" said Reynolds, pausing -to look fondly down into her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you must not worry about me, or be impatient. -The days will soon slip by. Take good care of -yourself and——" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Berry sorry yo' gwine away, boss, berry sorry. -Hope yo' not fo'get ole Mono when yo' done gone. -'Cessful journey to yo', boss." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, Uncle Mono, I can never forget you. -Did you ever play base-ball, Mono?" said Reynolds. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"You're not springy and active, then, Mono. You've -lost the use of yourself pretty nearly, I suppose?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Mono prepared to use his hat. -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," exclaimed Reynolds, laughing, "I'll not -have that! Put down your hat and use your hands. -Now, here it comes." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yah, yah, yah! let de oder 'n come, boss, I's ready -for 'm!" shouted the old fellow in great delight. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Fanky, boss, fanky; tole yo' dat yo' wus a rus'ler, -did'n' I? Goo'by, boss, 'cessful journey to yo', sah." -</p> - -<p> -"Good-by, Mono, we'll go a fishing when I come -back," Reynolds called after him, as he rapidly -retreated. -</p> - -<p> -"All right, boss, I go wid yo'. I show yo' wha' dey -is, sho's yo' bo'n. Goo'by!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She was silent, but it was a silence just as satisfactory -to her lover as any words could have been. -</p> - -<p> -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 -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Passed like a glorious roll of drums<br /> - Through the triumph of his dream."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -He saw, he felt, he enjoyed—what more could his lazy, -basking nature crave? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You will come soon." -</p> - -<p> -"Very soon—in a few days." -</p> - -<p> -The carriage, a sort of open landau, began to move, -and Reynolds sitting in the rear turned and furtively -flung back a kiss. -</p> - -<p> -She was already beginning to grow pale, but she -touched her lips with her fingers and waved him adieu -with a bright smile. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Wha' do Gin'l DeKay lib?" called out the driver -of a carriage whose way lay opposite to theirs. -</p> - -<p> -"Jis back ya' leetle ways," answered Reynolds' -driver. -</p> - -<p> -"All right, I fought so; much 'bleeged." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Damn the fellow!" he muttered. "Stop a -moment, Dan," he called to the driver. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ransom, is this indeed you?" demanded Reynolds, -gathering enough force to crush down his bewilderment. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Reynolds!" -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Ransom clasped her hands and looked helplessly -and beseechingly from one to the other. Her lips -quivered pitifully. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I was not expecting to see <i>you</i>," he said with -peculiar emphasis. "Nor you me, I suppose." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Herbert, Herbert!" cried Agnes, suddenly -making a step forward and casting her arms around -Ransom's neck. "Oh, is it really, really you!" -</p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-244"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-244.jpg" alt=""Oh, Herbert, Herbert, is it really, really you!" Page 244." /> -<br /> -"Oh, Herbert, Herbert, is it really, really you!" <i>Page 244</i>. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds stood like a bronze statue, his eyes burning -with a dull fire and his face seamed and shriveled. -</p> - -<p> -Ransom clung to his wife, stroking her hair and -kissing her cheek. His ecstasy was genuine, but it -lacked the force of lofty passion. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is he—Herbert, my husband—where is he?" -she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -She sprang away from him and stood up pale and -firm before him. -</p> - -<p> -"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—" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -Ransom was standing by now glancing keenly from -one to the other. When he spoke it was directly to -Reynolds. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Leave her to you!" said Reynolds in a white heat -of fury, "never!" -</p> - -<p> -"You <i>must</i> leave me, and at <i>once</i>," said Agnes firmly. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIX. -<br /><br /> -WHITHER? -</h3> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The negro presently began to sing, in a strangely -melodious undertone, an old, old Alabama ditty; -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Oh, poor Lucy Neal,<br /> - Oh, poor Lucy Neal,<br /> - And if I had you by my side,<br /> - How happy I would feel!"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Reynolds started, clenched his hands and began to -breathe hard. -</p> - -<p> -"Dan," he cried, "drive back, drive back, I can't -bear it!" -</p> - -<p> -Dan pulled up the mares and turned round in his -seat: -</p> - -<p> -"What yo' say, boss?" he inquired, touching his -hat and but half repressing his surprise. -</p> - -<p> -"Turn round and drive back. Be quick, make them -go: do you hear?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Drive faster, Dan, do you hear, drive faster!" -</p> - -<p> -"Yah, sah, boss." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Hold up, Dan, hold up!" -</p> - -<p> -"Yah, sah." Dan once more brought the equipage to -a standstill. -</p> - -<p> -Flickering expressions of hesitancy, faltering and -giving up of hope, played for a brief space of time on -Reynolds' face, before he could say: -</p> - -<p> -"Turn again: drive to Montgomery." -</p> - -<p> -"By jiffs!" muttered Dan, sotto voce, "is de boss done -gone 'stracted?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -It was some time past noon when they reached the -station and there was no train until after nightfall. -</p> - -<p> -Reynolds gave Dan a liberal reward in money. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-by, Dan," he said, "don't drive the mares so -fast going back: they appear tired." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind: good-by, Dan." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>cul-de-sac</i>. 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. -</p> - -<p> -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 -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "The light of her eyes<br /> - And the dew of her lips,<br /> - Where the moth never flies<br /> - And the bee never sips."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XX. -<br /><br /> -AFTER ALL. -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm jest a lookin' for 'im now, an' a 'spectin' 'im -ever' minute," she replied, her voice quavering sweetly, -her limbs trembling. -</p> - -<p> -White swallowed, as if something hurt his throat, -and pressed a finger vigorously into his pipe. The -muscles of his face twitched convulsively. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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'?" -</p> - -<p> -"Keep still, I tell ye, pap, for I know 'at I jest do -yer 'im a comin' down ther'." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Hit air all right, mother," he said to his wife as he -entered. "He air out ther'—the Colonel air." -</p> - -<p> -She looked up with a start, for his voice was thick -with excitement. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -THE END. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -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-h.htm or 63876-h.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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> - -</html> - |