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diff --git a/old/68586-0.txt b/old/68586-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index eeed0e1..0000000 --- a/old/68586-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3926 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Smoking flax, by Hallie Erminie Rives - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Smoking flax - -Author: Hallie Erminie Rives - -Release Date: July 22, 2022 [eBook #68586] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by University of California - libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SMOKING FLAX *** - - - - - - SMOKING FLAX - - BY - - HALLIE ERMINIE RIVES - - - _SECOND EDITION_ - - F. TENNYSON NEELY - PUBLISHER - LONDON NEW YORK - - - - -=Neely’s Prismatic Library.= - -=GILT TOP, 50 CENTS.= - - -“I know of nothing in the book line that equals Neely’s Prismatic -Library for elegance and careful selection. It sets a pace that others -will not easily equal and none surpass.”--E. A. ROBINSON. - - - _SOUR SAINTS AND SWEET SINNERS._ - _By Carlos Martyn._ - - _SEVEN SMILES AND A FEW FIBS._ - _By Thomas J. Vivian. With full-page illustrations by well-known - artists._ - - _A MODERN PROMETHEUS._ - _By E. Phillips Oppenheim._ - - _THE SHACKLES OF FATE._ - _By Max Nordau._ - - _A BACHELOR OF PARIS._ - _By John W. Harding. With over 50 illustrations by William Hofacher._ - - _MONTRESOR. By Loota._ - - _REVERIES OF A SPINSTER._ - _By Helen Davies._ - - _THE ART MELODIOUS._ - _By Louis Lombard._ - - _THE HONOR OF A PRINCESS._ - _By F. Kimball Scribner._ - - _OBSERVATIONS OF A BACHELOR._ - _By Louis Lombard._ - - _KINGS IN ADVERSITY._ - _By E. S. Van Zile._ - - _NOBLE BLOOD AND A WEST POINT PARALLEL. By Captain King._ - - _TRUMPETER FRED._ - _By Captain King. Illustrated._ - -_ FATHER STAFFORD. By Anthony Hope._ - - _THE KING IN YELLOW._ - _By R. W. Chambers._ - - _IN THE QUARTER. By R. W. Chambers._ - - _A PROFESSIONAL LOVER. By Gyp._ - - _BIJOU’S COURTSHIPS._ - _By Gyp. Illustrated._ - - _A CONSPIRACY OF THE CARBONARI._ - _By Louise Muhlbach._ - - _SOAP BUBBLES. By Dr. Max Nordau._ - - F. TENNYSON NEELY, - PUBLISHER, - NEW YORK, LONDON. - - - _Copyrighted in the United States and - Great Britain in MDCCCXCVII by - F. Tennyson Neely._ - - _All rights reserved._ - - - - -TO MY MOTHER AND THE SOUTH - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -“Smoking Flax” is a story of the South written by a young Kentucky -woman. Undoubtedly in the South its advent will be saluted with -enthusiastic bravos. What will be the nature of its reception in -the North it is hazardous to predict. One thing, however, can be -confidently prophesied for it everywhere--consideration. This the -subject and manner of its treatment assures. - -The methods of Judge Lynch viewed from most standpoints are, without -extenuation, evil; from a few aspects they may appear to be perhaps -not wholly without justification. Miss Rives, through the medium of -romance, presents the question as seen from many sides, and then leaves -to the reader the responsibility of determining “what is truth,” though -where her own sympathies lie she does not leave much in doubt. - -The authoress comes of an old Virginia stock to whom the gift of -narrative and literary expression seem to be a birthright. Since -revolutionary days literature has been more or less enriched by -contributions from successive members of the family--the well known -contemporary novelist and the youthful author of this book sharing -at the present time the responsibility of upholding the hereditary -traditions. It seems, therefore, happily appropriate that Miss Rives -should have taken upon herself the task of placing before the world -southern views of the problem of lynching, which, be it understood, are -far from unanimous. The subject is handled with admirable tact, the -author steering clear alike from prudish affectations of modesty and -shocking details of inartistic realism: and throughout is maintained -a judicial impartiality infrequent in the treatment of such burning -questions. - -Miss Rives will achieve distinction in the South and at least -notability elsewhere. - - H. F. G. - - ROCHESTER, N. Y. - _September 22nd, 97._ - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -The house faced the college campus and was the only one in the block. -This, in Georgetown, implies a lawn of no small dimensions; the place -had neither gardener’s house nor porter’s lodge--nothing but that -old home half hidden by ancient elms. For many a year it had stood -with closed doors in the very heart of that prosperous Kentucky -town, presenting a gloomy aspect and exercising for many a singular -attraction. Near the deep veranda a great tree, whose boughs were -no longer held in check by trimming, had thrust one of its branches -through the frontmost window. Dampness had attacked everything. -The upper balcony was loosened, the roof warped, and lizards sunned -themselves on the wall. - -As for the garden, long ago it had lapsed into a chaotic state. The -thistle and the pale poppy grew in fragrant tangle with the wild ivy -and Virginia creeper, and wilful weeds thrust their way across the -gravel walks. - -Sadly old residents saw the place approaching the last stages of -decay--saw this house, once the pride of the town, in its decrepitude -and loneliness the plaything of the elements. - -“A noble wreck! It must have a history of some kind,” strangers would -remark. - -“Ah, that it has, and a sombre one it is!” any man or woman living near -would have answered, as they recalled the history of Richard Harding’s -home. For the fate of Richard Harding was a sad memory to them. They -remembered how he had been the representative of a fine old family and -that much of his fortune had been spent in beautifying this place, to -make it a fitting home for Catharine Field, his bride. - -She too had been of gentle birth and held an important place in their -memory as one who brought with her to this rural community the wider -experience usual to a young woman educated in Boston, who, after a few -seasons of social success in an ultra fashionable set, has crowned her -many achievements by a brilliant marriage. - -Her husband adored her and showed his devotion by humoring her -extravagant tastes and prodigal fancies. He detested gayeties, yet -complied with her slightest wish for social pleasures. - -Although it was generally agreed that this young couple got on well -together, at the end of two years the husband had to admit to himself -that his efforts to render his wife happy had not been entirely -successful. He saw that she fretted for her northern life, was bored -by everything about her. She cherished a bitter resentment for the -slaveholders, vowing that it was barbarous and inhuman to own human -beings as her husband and neighbors did. Though expressing pity for the -poor, simple, dependent creatures, she did little to make their tasks -more healthful and reasonable ones, or to render them more capable and -contented. - -Her baby’s nurse was the one servant of her household who met with -gracious treatment at her hands. This old slave came to her endowed -with the womanly virtues of honor, self-respect and humility. But in -marveling at her on these accounts, Mrs. Harding forgot that it was the -former mistress--her husband’s mother--that had made her what she was. - -At length the truth became clearly apparent that she was an obstinate, -intensely prejudiced and very unreasonable woman, who, having lived for -a time at a centre of fashionable intelligence in a city of culture, -supposed herself to be quite beyond the reach of and entirely superior -to ordinary country folk. Eventually, her morbid dissatisfaction became -so extreme that her husband yielded to her importunities, closed the -house, and with her and their baby boy, went to live in Boston. - -This sacrifice he made quietly and uncomplainingly, his closest friends -not then knowing how it wrenched his heart. A year passed, then -another, and at the end of the third, the papers announced the death of -Richard Harding. - -Though never again seeing his southern home, where he had planned -to live his life in peace and useful happiness, it had held to the -end a most sacred place in his memory--a memory which he truly hoped -would be transmittted to the heart and mind of his son. It was his -last wish that the old homestead should remain as it was--closed to -strangers--that no living being, unless of his own blood, should -inhabit that abode of love and sorrow, that it be kept from the -careless profanation of aliens. - -The world prophesied that his widow would soon forget the wishes of the -dead, but as witness that she had thus far kept faith, there stood the -closed, abandoned home, upon which Nature alone laid a destroying hand. - - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -In process of time, hardly a brick was to be seen in this old house -that had not grown purple with age and become cloaked with moss and -ivy. Antiquity looked out from covering to foundation stone. Only the -flowers were young, and flowers spring from a remote ancestry. This -house, inlaid in solitude, was as quiet as some cloister hidden away -within some French forest. - -One summer afternoon, the quiet was broken by a group of college girls -looking for some new flower for their botanical collection. But so full -of youthful spirits were they that they hardly saw the valley lilies -with stems so short that they could scarcely bear up their innocent, -sweet eyes, distressed, and stare like children in a crowd. - -Among these girls was one whom the most casual observer would have -singled out from her companions for a beauty rare even in that land of -beautiful women. She had wandered off alone and found a sleepy little -primrose. As she freed the blossom from its stem and held it in her -hand, a tide of thought surged up from her memory and deepened the -color of her face. Quietly she dropped down upon the grass and began -turning the leaves of her floral diary until she came to a similar -flower pressed between its pages. - -In a corner was written: “Gathered in the mountains on the 18th of -August.” - -“How strange,” she thought, “to note how late it was found there, while -it blooms so early here.” - -Commonplace as that discovery seemed to be, the face so radiant a -moment before, became thoughtfully drawn. - -She looked at the name “E. Harding” written below the dry, dead -blossom, and thought of the time when it had been written, thence -back to her first meeting with its owner--one of those happy chances -of travel, which have all the charm of the unexpected--as fresh in -her memory as though it had been but yesterday. That summer had been -one of those idyllic periods which are lived so unconsciously that -their beauty is only realized in memories. To become conscious of such -charm at the time would be to break the spell which lies in the very -ignorance of its existence. - -She, this ardent novice in learning, fresh from graduating honors, and -full of unmanageable, new emotions did not comprehend that the same -youthful impetuosity which had made the two fast friends in so brief -a time, had also made it possible for a few heedless words even more -quickly to separate them. An older or more experienced woman would have -missed the sudden bloom and escaped the no less sudden storm. - -“Primroses are his favorite flowers,” she said half aloud, and a -dainty little smile lifted ever so slightly the corners of her mouth -as if there were pleasure in the thought. Then she took up her pencil -and studiously began to jot down the botanical notes concerning the -primrose. “Primrose, a biennial herb, from three to six inches tall. -The flower is regular, symmetrical and four parted.” - -A twig snapped. The girl looked up quickly. “Welcome to my flowers,” -said a voice beside her, and a young man smiled frankly, as he bowed -and raised his white straw hat. - -“Mr. Harding!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes in wonder and staring at -him with the prettiest face of astonishment. Alarm had brought color to -her cheeks, while the level rays of the sun, which forced her to screen -her eyes with one hand, clothed her figure in a broad belt of gold. -“How did you happen to be here?” - -“I did not happen. Man comes not to his place by accident.” - -His answer, though given with a laugh, had a touch of truth. - -Through the bright excitement of her eyes, a sudden gleam of archness -flashed. - -“Have you come to write us up, or rather down?” she asked. - -“I have come to help those who won’t help themselves, but first let -us make peace, if such a thing be necessary between us. Here is my -offering,” and smilingly he laid two fresh white roses in her hand. - -She answered his smile with one of her own as she thrust the long -generous stems through her waist belt; but she did not thank him with -words, and he was glad that she did not. Just as he would have spoken -again, a number of girlish voices called in chorus: - -“Come, Dorothy, we are going now.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -In the same year that Elliott Harding was graduated from Princeton, he -came into possession of his estate, which he at once began to share -with his mother. Her love of good living and luxury, her craving -for such elegancies as sumptuous furniture, expensive bric-à-brac, -and stylish equipages had well nigh exhausted her means, and she -was now almost entirely dependent upon a half-interest in the small -estate in Kentucky. Considering that Elliott had a leaning towards -the learned professions and political and social pursuits, added to -a constitutional abhorrence of a business career, his financial -condition was not altogether uncomfortable. He longed to own a superb -library, a collection of books, great both in number and quality, and, -furthermore, he wanted to complete his education by travel abroad, -followed by a year or two of serious research in the South. He realized -how ill these aspirations mated with the pleasure loving habits of his -mother and how impossible it would be for him to realize his dreams, so -long as his purse remained the joint source of supply. - -To many a young man the outlook would have been deeply discouraging. To -him it was a means of developing the endurance and the strength of will -which were among his distinguishing characteristics. - -Nature had fashioned Elliott Harding when in one of her kindly moods. -She had endowed him with many gifts; good birth, sound health of body -and mind, industry, resolution and ambition. Besides possessing these -goodly qualifications, he stood six feet in height, and in breadth -of shoulder, depth of chest, sturdiness of legs and arms, he had few -superiors. There was, too, a nobility of proportion in his forehead -that indicated high breeding and broad intellectuality, and his face -was full of force and refinement. His steel blue eyes gleamed with a -superb self-confidence. - -By profession, Elliott Harding was a lawyer; by instinct, a writer. He -practiced law for gain. He wrote because it was his ruling passion. He -was a man who had been early taught to have faith in his own destiny -and to consider himself an agent called by God to do a great work. When -he came to his southern home he came with a purpose--a purpose which he -determined to carry out quietly but with mighty earnestness. When he -first arrived in the town he was content to rest unheralded, and his -presence was not understood by the villagers. Nearly every morning now, -he could be seen from the opposite window of the college to enter the -old abandoned house and sit for hours near the door, his head bowed, -his fingers busy with note-book and pencil. - -For some weeks this proceeding had continued with little variation. -People noted it with diverse conjectures. Old men and women feared lest -this man, whoever he might be,--a real estate agent perhaps--would -bring about the restoration and sale of the old Harding home. These -old-time friends, who had known and loved the father, Richard Harding, -through youth and manhood, now rebelled against the possible disregard -of his last request, which had become a heritage of the locality. With -anxiety they watched the maneuvers of this mysterious individual and -drearily wondered what would result from his stay. - -To young Harding the anxiety he had caused was unknown. Absorbed in his -own affairs, he was too much occupied to think of the impression he -was creating. His whole thought was given to gleaning the knowledge he -required for the writing of the book by which he hoped to permanently -mould southern opinion in conformity with his own against what he -believed to be the shame of his native land. - -It was an evening in the third month of his residence in Georgetown. -Elliott Harding paused in his walk along the street not quite decided -which way to go. - -“She writes me she has drawn a ten-day draft for twenty-two hundred -dollars,” he said to himself. “How on earth can I meet it? What shall -I do about it? Let me think it out.” And checking his steps, which -had begun to tend towards the college, where a reception to which he -had been invited was being held, he took a turn or two in the already -darkening street, and then started back to his rooms. In his mind, -step by step, he traced out the possible consequences of action in the -matter, but long consideration only confirmed his first impression that -it was too late now to change the course of affairs so long existing. - -“But how am I to meet this last demand?” he questioned. “There is but -one way open to me,” he finally thought. “The old home must go.” - -He nervously walked on, repeating to himself, “Mother! mother! I could -never do this for anyone but you.” - -With the memory of his beloved father so strong within him, it was -difficult to bring himself to face the inevitable with composure. The -turbulent working of his heart contended against the resignation of -his brain, and, when for a moment he felt resigned, then the memory of -his dead father’s wish would rise up and protest, and the battle would -have to be fought over again. - -But what he considered to be duty to the living triumphed over -what he held as loyalty to the dead, so the next time he went to -the old homestead, “For Sale” glared coldly and, he even imagined, -reproachfully at him. It was then that Elliott realized the immensity -of his sacrifice and bowed his head in silent sorrow. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -After that one time, Elliott Harding determined to face the inevitable -and passed into the house without seeming to see the placard. - -One day while sitting in his accustomed writing place, which was the -parlor, now furnished with a table and office chair, a man walked up -the front steps. Elliott had just finished writing the words “The -glimpses of light I have gained make the darkness more apparent,” when -the man entered the doorway. - -The stranger was a tall, lean individual with iron gray beard curving -out from under the chin. Eyes dark, keen and deep set; cheekbones -as high as an Indian’s; hair iron gray and thick around the base of -the skull, but thin and tangled over the top of the head, formed a -combination striking and not unattractive. Though apparently far past -his prime, he appeared to be as hearty and hale as if half the years of -his life were yet to come. After gazing a moment at Elliott, he opened -the conversation by saying: - -“Good morning! I suppose you are the agent for this property?” - -“I am, sir,” answered Elliott, courteously. “Come in and have a seat,” -offering him his chair as he stood up and leaned against the writing -table. - -“I have come to make a bid for this place. I would like to buy it, if -it is to be had at a reasonable figure. It is not for the land value -alone that I want it,” he went on, “it is the old home of my only -sister. Besides, for another and more sacred reason, I never want it to -pass out of the family.” - -“Your sister’s old home,” said Elliott, without appearing to have heard -the offer, “then you are Mr. Field--Philip Field?” - -“That is my name--and yours?” - -“Elliott Field Harding.” - -“My nephew?” questioned the elder. - -“Your nephew, I suppose,” assented Elliott. - -“And you did not know you had an uncle here?” the old man asked quickly. - -“Well, I knew you were living somewhere in the South, but was not -certain of the exact locality.” - -At this, the face of the visitor softened, a strange glow leaping to -life in his quiet eyes. - -“Your mother discarded me years ago for marrying a Southern girl -not--not exactly up to her ideal, and I thought you might not have -known she had a cast-off brother, whom she thought had shamed his blood -and name,” was the low spoken comment. - -Then, half-unconsciously he stammered, “Catharine--your mother, is she -well?” - -“Quite well, I thank you,” said Elliott. - -“Will she come here to--to see you?” - -“Not likely, no; I don’t think she will ever come South again,” was the -contemplative reply. - -“Then she has not changed; she still hates us here!” commented the -other half sadly. - -“Well ‘hate’ is perhaps too strong a word; but I think that her -inflexible disapproval of the social conditions here will never -alter. You know her character. Her ideas are not easily changed and -she thinks little outside of Boston and Boston ideals worthy of much -consideration.” - -“Poor, dear sister! I had hoped that maternity and her early widowhood -would awake in her a sense of the vast duties and responsibilities -attached to her position as a southern woman. How I have longed to hear -that she had learned the blessed lesson.” - -To these words Elliott listened intently, his breath coming quick with -rebellious mortification. - -“If she had learned that lesson I might not now have to sacrifice the -old home,” said Elliott, somewhat impetuously. - -“Sacrifice!” repeated the other, “and did you care to hold it?” - -“It was the dearest wish of my life to do so,” was the reply. - -Mr. Field gazed at the young man with a look of admiration. - -“Elliott, my nephew,” he fervently said, holding out his hand as he -spoke, “if it will please you to call me friend as well as uncle, I -shall refuse neither the name nor the duties.” - -“Uncle Philip, I thank you and accept your kindly offer,” and Elliott’s -face brightened. The furrow which care had been ploughing between his -brows the past few days, smoothed itself out. Then in a burst of -confidence, he continued: - -“It has long been my ambition to do something with this place, worthy -of the memory of my father; but my mother is a little extravagant, I -am afraid, and I have not as yet been able to carry out my wish. She -lately drew upon me for twenty-two hundred dollars and it came at a -time when my only recourse was either to sell the place or dishonor her -paper.” - -“Elliott, it is very pleasing to me that you should speak thus frankly -with me. Let me help you. I will gladly lend you the money so that you -may not be forced to sell. I am well-to-do and can afford to help you.” - -Elliott listened in pleased surprise. He felt touched beyond -expression, but emotion irresistibly impelled him to seize his uncle’s -hand, to bend low and press his lips upon it. This unexpected offer -again buoyed up the hope of his intense desire to keep the homestead. -For a time he stared steadily at this friend, his whole soul reflected -upon his face. - -Mr. Field eyed his nephew closely during this silence and noted the -evidence of strength in the serious young face, and the unmistakable -air of a thinker it bore, and rightly judged that here was one who had -given over play for work. - -“The memory of your kind offer will live with me forever,” said -Elliott, his voice full of deep feeling, breaking the silence. “But I -cannot accept your generosity. I have no assurance that my labors will -be attended with success, and I have a horror of starting out in debt.” - -“Very well, my boy,” kindly spoke the other, “that spirit will win. I -will buy the place, and it will still be in the family.” - -“Thank you, uncle! You don’t know how grateful I am for that.” - -“And I am doubly pleased to be the owner since meeting you,” -interrupted the elder. “This old heart of mine beats warmly for your -father. He was a good man and I want to see the boy who bears his name -winning a way up to the level of life which was once Richard’s. Yes, I -want to see you foremost amongst just and honored men.” - -“Uncle Philip,” heartily spoke Elliott, “for the sake of my father’s -memory, I hope to fulfill that hope.” - -“Ah, yes, yes, you will, my boy!” The old man arose to go and as he -and Elliott clasped hands in a hearty good-bye, he added: “I shall be -glad to see you at my home, which is two miles south of here, or at -the Agricultural Bank of which I am president. I am a widower, have -no children, and your presence in my home would fill a void,” and as -though not wishing to trust himself further along the mournful trend of -thought, he hastily withdrew. - -As Elliott watched his uncle walking down the gravelled path, his offer -of friendship took a tempting form. A week before, he would have -scornfully repelled any such advances. - -“Only to think of it!” Elliott soliloquized, “an offer of sympathy and -help from this man for whom my mother, his sister, has not one gleam of -sympathy, or even comprehension! It is strange that he should be the -first to come in when all the world seems gone out.” - -Thus, without further heralding and no outward commercial negotiation, -the old Harding homestead passed quietly into Mr. Field’s possession, -and this matter once settled, Elliott began in earnest the practice of -his profession. Accordingly, his law card at once appeared in the local -papers and his “shingle” was hung out beside another, bearing the name -“John Holmes, Attorney at Law,” at the door of a building containing -numerous small offices. - -Elliott knew his literary work was not enough to satisfy his insistent -appetite for occupation, and for this reason, besides the necessity of -earning something toward his modest expenses, he went into the practice -of law. - -As Mr. Field felt he had been largely instrumental in his nephew’s -settling here, he took an active interest in furthering his success. - -“That is Elliott Harding, my nephew,” he would say, with an -affectionate familiarity, dashed with pride. “He is a most worthy young -man, deserving of your confidence,” a commendation usually agreed to, -with the unspoken thought sometimes, “and a very conceited one.” - -Why does the world look with such disapproval on self confidence? When -a person is endowed with a vigorous brain, there is no better way for -him to face the world than to start out with a full respect for his own -talents, and unbounded faith in the possibilities that lie within him. - -Elliott Harding’s belief in himself was not small, and the -consciousness of his ability led him to work diligently for both honor -and profit. He expected labor and did not shrink from it. Very soon -he riveted the attention of a few, then of the many, and it was not -long before he rose to a position of considerable importance in the -community and began to feel financial ground more solid beneath his -feet. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -It was a glorious morning in August, when summer’s wide-set doors let -in a torrent of later bloom. - -As early as ten o’clock the Riverside road was thronged with all manner -of conveyances, moving toward the country, bound for an out-of-door -fête of the character known in that region as a “bran-dance and -barbecue.” This country road, prodigally overhung with the foliage of -trees in the very heyday of their southern vigor is bounded on one -side by goodly acres of farmland, and on the other by the Elkhorn, a -historic river. - -The neighboring farms were still to-day. The light wind rustling the -silken tassels of the corn was all the sound that would be heard until -the morrow, unless, maybe, the neighing of the young horses left behind. - -From the topic of stock and farming, called forth by what they saw -in passing, Elliott Harding and his uncle, as they rode along, fell -to discussing the grim details of a murder and lynching that had but -recently taken place just over the boundary, in Tennessee. - -“What a tremendous problem is this lynching evil,” said Elliott, -looking keenly at his uncle, who shook his head seriously as he -answered: - -“It is a very grave question that confronts us, and by far the less -easier of settlement because we are placed in the full light of public -observation, all our doings heightened by its glare, and the passion -of the people aroused. It is not that we will, but that we must lynch -in these extreme cases. There seems no other way, and that is a poor -enough one.” - -“How many persons do you suppose have lost their lives by lynch law in -the south during the past ten years?” asked Elliott. - -“I should say at least a thousand,” replied Mr. Field. - -“Heavens! What a record!” exclaimed Elliott, who became silent, a look -of brooding thoughtfulness taking the place of the happy expression -that had lighted up his face. His uncle, noticing his preoccupation, -endeavored to distract his thoughts by calling attention to the -distant sound of a big bass fiddle and a strong negro voice that called -out many times, “balance all, swing yo par-d-ners.” - -“I suppose on this festive occasion I shall also hear some political -aspirant promising poor humanity unconditional prosperity and -deliverance from evil?” asked Elliott, by way of inquiry as to what -other diversions might be expected. - -“Oh, yes, Holmes and Feland, the candidates for prosecuting attorney, -are sure to be on hand,” replied Mr. Field. - -A little further on they came upon the crowd gathered in the woods. On -the bough-roofed dancing ground the youths were tripping with lissome -maids, who, with their filmy skirts a little lifted, showed shapely -ankles at every turn. The lookers-on seemed witched with the rhythmic -motion and the sensuous music. Old and young women, as well as men, -the well-to-do and the poor, were there. Neat, nice-looking young -people, with happy, intelligent faces, kept time to the waltz and the -cotillion, which were the order of the day. As the graceful figures -animated the arbor, far away in the depths of the wood could be heard -echoes of light-hearted talk and happy laughter. The very genius of -frolic seemed to preside over the gathering. - -Elliott stood near one end of the arbor and drew a long breath of -pure delight at this, to him, truly strange and delightful pastoral. -The mellow tints of nature’s verdure, the soft languor of the warm -atmosphere, gave a happy turn to his thoughts as he looked upon his -first “bran-dance.” - -“Come! finish this with me,” cried a sturdy farmer boy. - -“Do, dear mamma!” begged the gasping maiden at her side, “I am so -tired. Do take a round with him.” - -Thus appealed to, the stout, handsome matron threw aside her palm-leaf -fan and held out her hands to the boy. Although she had but reached -that age when those of the opposite sex are considered just in their -prime, she, being old enough to be the mother of the twenty-year-old -daughter at her side, was considered too old to be one of the dancers. -But at the hearty invitation she too became one of the tripping throng -and entered into the fun with all the sweetness and spontaneity in -voice and gesture which made herself and others forget how far her -Spring was past. The waltz now became a waltz indeed. The musicians -played faster and faster and the girl clapped her hands as the couple -whirled round and round, as though nothing on earth could stop them. - -“Please let’s stop. I beg you to stop, now!” cried the matron, panting -for breath but the enraptured youth paid no heed to her pleadings, but -swifter and swifter grew his pace, wilder and wilder his gyrations, -till, fortunately for her, he encountered an unexpected post and was -brought to a sudden halt. The waltz, too, had come to an end, and the -onlookers clapped their hands in hearty applause. Even the veterans -of the community seemed to enjoy the spirit of the sport. Elliott -particularly noted the rapt enjoyment of a group of old men silver -haired, ruddy skinned, keen eyed, who once seen, remained penciled upon -the gazer’s memory--each head a worthy sketch. - -These patriarchs were bent with toil as well as age, their hands were -roughened by labor, the Sunday broadcloth became them less than the -week-day short coat, yet each figure had a dignity of its own. In one -aged man, with snow-white hair, Roman nose and tawny, beardless face, -the staunch Southerner of old lived again. Here was that calm and -resolution betokening the indomitable spirit, the unswerving faith -that led men to brave fire and sword, ruin and desolation, rather than -surrender principle. - -In strong relief were these sombre figures of the group set forth by -the light, airy frocks and the young faces and graceful forms of the -pretty girls, with beflowered hats coquettishly perched above their -heads, or swinging from their hands. One could step easily from the -verge of the white holiday keeper to the confines of the pleasure -loving black. But it was a great distance--like the crossing of a vast -continent--between the habitats of alien races. - -On the outskirts of the crowd, here and there, under the friendly shade -of some wide spreading tree, could be seen a darkey busily engaged -in vending watermelons and cool drinks. Coatless and hatless, with -shirt wide open at neck and chest, and sleeves rolled elbow high, he -transferred the luscious fruit from his wagon to the eager throng about -him; while he passed compliments without stint upon the unbleached -domestics who came to “trade” with him, not forgetting to occasionally -lift his voice and proclaim the superior quality of his stock, -verifying his assurances by taking capacious mouthfuls from the severed -melon lying on the top of the load. - -Without ceremony, the darkeys, male and female, swarmed about the -vender, some seating themselves in picturesque ease upon the ground in -pairs and groups. There were mulattos and octoroons of light and darker -shades, to the type of glossy blackness, discussing last week’s church -“festival,” to-morrow’s funeral, the Methodists’ protracted meeting -which begins one Christmas and lasts till the next. - -In astonishing quantities did the “culled folks” stow away “red meat” -and “white meat,” and with juice trickling from the corners of their -mouths down over their best raiment, gave ready ear to the vender’s -broad jokes and joined in his loud laughter, showing, as only negroes -can, their ready appreciation of the feast and holiday. Their hilarity -kept up an undiminished flow until the participants were called to -serve the midday meal for the “white folks.” - -Hundreds partook of the delicious pig which had been roasted whole, -that meat of which the poet wrote, “Send me, gods, a whole hog -barbecued.” - -Animals spitted on pointed sticks sputtered and fizzled over a hole -in the ground filled with live coals. Mindful attendants shifted the -appetizing viands from side to side, seasoning them with salt, pepper, -vinegar or lemon as the case might require, and when set forth, offered -a feast as close to primitive nature as the trees under which it was -served. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -Very soon after the feast was ended, Elliott saw John Holmes and a -party of men coming toward him. - -To a casual reader of the human countenance, it would be evident at a -first glance that Holmes was a man of no small worldly knowledge, and -as he now appeared with his companions one could discern that this -superiority was recognized by them and that he held a certain position -of authority, in fact that he was a man accustomed to rule rather than -be ruled. - -As he approached Elliott, he addressed him with a pleased smile, -saying: “I am glad to see you here, Mr. Harding. Maybe you can help us -out of a difficulty.” - -“In what way?” asked Elliott, surprised. - -“My political opponent was to have been here and we were to briefly -address the people this afternoon, but, so far, he has failed to put -in an appearance. The toiling folk have come here to-day, even laying -aside important work in some instances, to hear a ‘speaking,’ and -unless they hear some sort of an address (they are not particular about -the subject) it will be hard to bring them together again when we need -them more. - -“I, as a representative of the committee, request you to lend us a -helping hand. It is generally desired that you be the orator upon this -occasion.” - -“What! address this gathering offhand and wholly unprepared? It would -blight my prospects forever with them,” laughed Elliott. - -“On the other hand, it would give you an opportunity for a wider -acquaintance and perhaps elect you to the first office to which you may -yet aspire. Come! I will take no excuse,” persisted Holmes, while his -companions seconded his insistence. - -After considerable pressing, Elliott was escorted to the platform, from -which the musicians had moved. Without delay Holmes stepped to the -front and in a loud, clear voice which hushed the crowd, said: - -“Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor of introducing Mr. Elliott -Harding, who will speak in place of Mr. Feland, that gentleman, for -some reason or other, having failed to put in an appearance.” - -Amid a storm of cheers, Elliott arose, straightening his eloquent -shoulders as he came forward. His blonde face was full of eager life -when he began. - -“Ladies and gentlemen: The unexpected compliment paid me by your -committee has given me the pleasure of addressing you to-day. I accept -the invitation the more gladly inasmuch as it gives me the opportunity -of telling you that my heart, linked to the South by birth, has -retained its old love in spite of absence and distance, and brings me -back to my own place with a fonder and, if possible, a greater and -nobler pride in this Southland of yours and mine. And, it _is_ a land -to be proud of. More magnificent a country God has never made. It has -seen the fierce harrowing of war. Gazing through the past years my -fancy sees the ruin that has confronted the home-coming soldier--ashes -instead of homes, burnt stubble instead of fences, the slaves on -whose labor he had long depended for the cultivation of his fertile -fields, with their bonds cast off, meeting him as freemen. Without -money, provisions or even the ordinary implements of husbandry, he at -once began the toilsome task of repairing his fallen fortunes. Having -converted his sword into a plowshare, his spear into a pruning hook, he -lost no time, but manfully set to work to restore his lost estate, and -bring a measure of comfort to the dear ones deprived of their former -luxuries. - -“So it is to the soldier of the ‘Lost Cause’ that all honor and praise -must be given for the present prosperity of the land. And it becomes us -as heirs of his sacrifice and of the fruits of his toil, to lend our -every effort to the full garnering of the harvest. - -“As the giant West has sprung up from the sap of the East, so must -the South rise up by strength drawn from the soil of the North. What -the South needs to-day more than any other one thing is an influx -of intelligent laborers from the North. It needs its sturdy folk of -industrious habit, economy and indomitable energy; it needs a more -profitable system of agriculture. Accustomed as that people is to -economy, to frugality and to forcing existence out of an unwilling -soil, if only they could be induced to come here in sufficient numbers, -the country would soon blossom into mellow prosperity. And, my friends, -I want to see them coming--coming with their capital to aid us in -developing the inexhaustible mineral resources of our mines, the timber -of our forests, to build our mills and rear our infant manufactures to -the full stature of lusty manhood. Our future with all its limitless -possibilities--this future which is to warm the great breast of the -business world toward us, this future which shall shower upon us the -fullness of earth--is all with you. - -“Therefore, with such a vista of promise opening before our gaze, ill -would it become us to fail in our duty toward ourselves, toward our -country and toward Him who giveth all. Thus it befits us to lend every -effort to the furtherance of this, our future salvation. To those upon -whose coming so much depends, every inducement must be offered. And -be it remembered that capital seeks its home in sections wherein life -and prosperity enjoy the greatest security under the law. This is a -conclusion founded on the great law of caution, upon which intelligent -capital is planted and reared. It becomes necessary, then, to ask -ourselves seriously, ‘Are we making every effort to solidify peace and -order by the protection of life and the supreme establishment of law?’ - -“I need not answer this question. Circumstances have done so for me. -The electric wire is still hot from flashing to the furtherest corner -of our Nation, in all its revolting details, news of the recent awful -crime in our sister state. - -“I am well aware that in touching upon this point I am wounding the -sensibilities of a people who have been shadowed by personal injury -and embittered by a natural race prejudice; but I feel that I can -speak the more boldly because I touch the matter not as an alien whose -sympathies are foreign and whose theories are theoretical chimeras, -but as a southerner--one whose interest is the stronger because he -is a southerner. My audience may refuse to grant the justice of my -argument, but it must admit the truth of the situation I outline. -Whichever way we turn the tremendous problem of the lynching evil -stares us in the face. It baits us, it defies us, it shames us. - -“Think of it! More than one thousand human lives forfeited to Judge -Lynch form the South’s record for the past ten years. What a horrible -record! It seems almost incredible that such lawlessness can exist -in communities supposed to be civilized. Would to God it were but an -evil dream and that I could to-day assure the world that this terrible -condition is but the unfounded imagining of a nightmared mind. - -“Lynching is a peculiarly revolting form of murder, and to tolerate -it is to pave the way for anarchy and barbarism. It cannot be -truthfully denied that one of the most potent factors militating -against the progress of this country is this frequent resort to illegal -execution, and before we can realize the full benefits of your natural -inheritance, your laws--our laws--must be impartially enforced, -property must be protected, and life sacredly guarded by rigid legal -enforcement, backed by an elevated public conception of duty. - -“It is no greater crime for one man to seize a brother man and take his -life than it is for a lawless multitude to do the same act. The first, -if there be any difference, is less criminal than the latter for it, -at least often has the merit of individual courage and the plea for -revenge on the ground of personal injury. But when a man is deprived of -his liberty by incarceration in the jail and thus shorn of his power -of self protection, it is the acme of dishonor and cowardice to wrest -him from the grasp of the law and deprive him of his life upon evidence -that possibly might not convict him before a jury. - -“I do not wish to be understood as saying that brave and good men do -not sometimes, under strong excitement, participate in this outrage -against human rights and organized society, for it is a fact that such -rebellions are not infrequently led by the most prominent citizens, -and, from this very fact, it is the more to be deplored. - -“My friends, have you never thought to what this practice may lead? -Has the frequency of mob violence no alarming indications for you? -Directed, as it more often is, against our negro population, instead of -making better citizens of the depraved and deterring them from crime, -it has a tendency to cultivate a race prejudice and stir up the worst -of human passions. It is inculcating a disregard of law because it -ignores that greatest principle of freedom--that every man is to be -considered innocent until proven to be guilty by competent testimony. - -“Judge Lynch is the enemy of law and strikes at the very foundation -of order and civil government. His rule is causing large classes to -feel that the law of the land affords them no protection. The courts -furnish an adequate remedy for every wrong. One legal death on the -scaffold has a more salutary effect than a score of mob executions. -The former teaches a proper dread of offended law, leaves no unhealing -wounds in the hearts of the living, stirs up no revengeful impulses, -creates no feuds and causes no retaliatory murders. What a field of -home mission stretches before us! We owe it to the South to remove this -blot on our good name. Let us hasten the day when Judge Lynch shall be -spoken of with a shudder, as a hideous memory. - -“This pitiful people, our former slaves, if instructed by intelligent -ministers and teachers, might be delivered from the cramped mind, -freed from the brutalized spirit which causes these crimes among us. -They are naturally a religious people and this principle, which seems -to be strong within them, under the guidance of an earnest enlightened -ministry, might prove to be the key to the race problem find open up a -social and political reformation, unequalled in modern times. - -“Already the negro race is doing much for its own advancement and good. -To-day there are thirty-five thousand negro teachers in the elementary -schools of the South. Six hundred ministers of the gospel have been -educated in their own theological halls. They own and edit more than -two hundred newspapers. They have equipped and maintain more than three -hundred lawyers and four hundred doctors and have accumulated property -which is estimated at more than two hundred and fifty millions. I note -this fact with pleasure. It makes them better citizens by holding a -stake in their community. Let us show our appreciation of what they -have already done by helping them to do more.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -The strange faces, the new scene, the suddenness of the call had shaken -Elliott’s self-possession, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he -finished his speech. - -The mayor and municipal council crowded around him with outstretched -hands, foremost amongst them, an old man with Roman features. - -“I was interested in your speech, young man,” said he, “but wait until -this thing strikes home before you condemn our code.” - -“You’re right, Mr. Carr, you’re right!” cried several voices in chorus. - -The old gentleman talked on during the intervals of greetings and -ended by inviting young Harding to his home, where a lawn party was to -be held that night. - -As the volume of general applause lessened, the cry of “Holmes! -Holmes!” was kept up with an insistence which might have induced a less -capable man to respond. Nor would the enthused throng be quieted until -John Holmes mounted the platform. - -“It had not been my purpose, ladies and gentlemen,” said he, “to -address you to-day upon the subject touched upon by Mr. Harding, but, -since he has modestly lectured us on our barbarity, I must say a word -in defense of the South and southerners. He intimates that the curse -of slavery still rests upon the southern states. I wonder if Mr. -Harding knows whether or not the curse of slave-trade, which to be -accurate is called ‘the sum of all villainies,’ really rests upon Great -Britain, who was the originator of the inhuman system and not upon us -southerners? - -“The most careful statistics show that in the beginning over 19,000,000 -Africans were imported into the British West Indies and so severely -were they dealt with that when emancipation came, only a little over -600,000 were left to benefit by it. The slave trade was fastened on the -American colonies by the greed of English kings, who, over and over -again, vetoed the restrictive legislation of the Colonial Assemblies on -the ground that it interfered with the just profits of their sea-faring -subjects. Is there no work for Nemesis here? - -“That the system of slavery, as it existed in the southern states, was -accompanied by many cases of hardship and cruelty, we freely admit; -that its abolition is a proper ground for sincere rejoicing, we do not -hesitate to affirm. But, it is nevertheless true, that, looked at in -a large way, slavery was a lifting force to the negro race during the -whole period of its existence here. The proof lies just here--when the -war of emancipation came, the 4,000,000 negroes in the southern states -stood on a higher level of civilization than did any other equal number -of people of the same race anywhere on the globe. - -“As to the mental and moral advancement of the negro, we have not done -enough to render us boastful or self-satisfied, but enough to dull the -shafts of the mistaken or malicious who would convict us of heathenish -indifference to his elevation. We have from childhood had a lively -appreciation of the debt we owe to the race. Nobody owes them as much -as we do; nobody knows them as well; nobody’s future is so involved in -their destiny as our own. Is it not natural that we should help them in -their pathetic struggle against poverty, ignorance and degradation? - -“Mr. Harding, in speaking of their progress, intimates that these -results have been reached by their own unaided efforts. The fact is -that the elementary schools of which he speaks are sustained almost -entirely by the southern white people, who, in the midst of their own -grinding poverty, have taxed themselves to the extent of $50,000,000 to -educate the children of their former slaves. The colored churches of -to-day are the legitimate fruit of the faithful work done amongst the -slaves before the war by white missionaries. - -“Two hundred and fifty millions is a vast sum. Could a race gather and -hold so much in a commonwealth where its rights are being trampled -upon with impunity? The question answers itself. There is, in truth, -no place on earth where the common negro laborer has so good an -opportunity as between the Potomac and Rio Grande. Here he is admitted -to all the trades, toils side by side with white workmen, and is -protected in person and property so long as he justifies protection. - -“As to the statement that one thousand have been lynched in the past -ten years, doubtless Mr. Harding accepts without further examination -the crooked figures of partisan newspapers. But, granting this horrible -record to be true, it must be acknowledged that the man does something -to call forth such treatment. Along with the telling of our alleged -bloodthirstiness, there should be related the frequency and atrocity -of his outrages against our homes. The south willingly appeals to the -judgment of civilized mankind as to the truth of her declaration that -the objects of enlightened government are as well secured here as on -any portion of the globe. - -“That Mr. Harding and his sympathizers are actuated by excellent -motives, I do not mean to question. - -“We are as mindful as others of the dangerous tendency of resorting -to lawlessness, but strangers cannot understand the situation as -well as those who are personally familiar with it and have suffered -by it. It is much to be regretted, of course, that lynchings occur, -but it is far more to be regretted that there are so many occasions -for them. When the sanctity of woman is violated, man, if man he be, -cannot but choose to avenge it. If the villain did not commit the crime -for which this penalty is inflicted, then we would not be inflamed -to summary vengeance. The perpetrator of this deed, the most heinous -of all crimes and to which death is often added, need not complain -when vengeance is visited upon him in a swift and merciless manner, -according with the teaching of his own villainy. - -“Unquestionably it would be better if judicial formalities could be -duly observed, but the law should make special provisions for summary -execution when such grave offenses occur. Then, too, there is something -to be said for the peculiar indignation which such cases incite. This -anger is the just indignation of a community against a peculiarly vile -class of criminal, not against a race, as Mr. Harding and others have -grown to believe and to set forth. That it has seemed a race question -with the south, has been because for every negro in the north we have -one hundred here. - -“Mid the stormy scenes a quarter of a century ago, when the bugle -called the sons of the south to war, they went, leaving their wives, -mothers, children and homes in the hands of the slaves who, though -their personal interests were on the other side, were true to their -trust, protected the helpless women and children and earned for them -their support by the sweat of their own brow, and with a patience -unparalleled left the question of freedom to the arbitrament of war. -Their behavior under manifold temptations was always kindly and -respectful, and never one raised an arm to molest the helpless. In -the drama of all humanity, there is not a figure more pathetic or -touching than the figure of the slave, who followed his master to the -battle-field, marched, thirsted and hungered with him, nursed, served -and cheered him--that master who was fighting to keep him in slavery. -This subject comprises a whole vast field of its own and if the history -of it is ever written, it will be written in the literature of the -south, for here alone lies the knowledge and the love. - -“Who has taught him to regard liberty as a license? Who has sown -this seed of animosity in his mind? Until they who have sown the -seed of discord shall root up and clear away the tares, the peace -and prosperity that might reign in this southern land can be but a -hope, a dream. It is this rooting of the tares, and this more surely -than anything else, that will bring nearer the union and perfect good -fellowship which is so greatly needed. Sound common sense and sterling -Americanism can and will find a way to prosperity and peace.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -The sun had set; off beyond the glistening green woodline, the sky was -duskily red. The air was full of that freshness of twilight, which is -so different from the dew of morning. - -Elliott left the bran-dance by a new road which was plain and -characterless until he had passed through an unpretentious gate and was -driving along the old elm avenue, a part of the Carr domain, which was -undeniably picturesque. Shortly the elm branches came to an end and he -entered a park, indifferently cared for, according to modern ideas, but -well stocked with timber of magnificent growth and of almost every -known native variety. Perhaps the oaks dominated in number and majesty, -but they found worthy rivals in the towering elms. - -Neglect is very picturesque in its effect, whether the thing neglected -be a ruined castle or an unkept tangle. The unpicturesque things are -those in which man’s artificial selection reigns supreme. - -Had Elliott’s order-loving mother been with him, she would have -observed that this park was ill-maintained, and that she would dearly -love to have the thinning out and regulating of its trees. Whereas, to -his less orderly fancy, it presented a most agreeable appearance. There -was Nature’s charm wholly undisturbed by man, and what perhaps added -the finishing touch to his satisfaction was the exceeding number of -maples, in the perfect maturity of their growth. These straight and -goodly trees so screened the house that he was very close before it -could be seen. Even at the instant and before he had looked upon more -than its gray stone frontage almost smothered in Virginia creepers, up -to the very top of its rounded gables, Elliott was pleased. - -It was a secluded place. Its position was, according to his taste, -perfect. It had the blended charm of simple, harmonious form and -venerable age. It faced almost southeast, the proper aspect for a -country house, as it ensures morning cheerfulness all the year round, -and the full advantage of whatever sunshine there is in winter from -dawn practically to sundown and the exquisite effects of the rising of -the moon. - -Low-growing lilies breathed seductive fragrance, and the softness of -the air permitted the gay party assembled to indulge in what would have -been indiscretion in a more northerly climate. Young girls discarded -their straw hats and danced upon the smooth, green lawn, while elderly -chaperons could retire to the halls and porches if they feared the -chill night air. - -As Elliott approached the moonlit crowd of figures, Dorothy Carr came -out to greet him. A young woman, tall and slight, with a figure lithe -and graceful, made more perfect by ardent exercise. A skin which had -never been permitted to lose its infant softness, with lips as pure -as perfect health and lofty thoughts could make them. Her blown gold -hair was lustrous and soft, and she carried herself with the modesty of -the gentlewoman. Her blue eyes were dark, their brows pencilled with -delicate precision combining a breadth that was both commanding and -sweet. - -“I am delighted to see you again, Mr. Harding,” Dorothy Carr said, -graciously. - -“And I am delighted to be here,” replied Elliott, as he turned with his -fair hostess to a rude seat fixed about the bole of an oak. - -“It was upon your grounds that we last met,” she added after a slight -pause. - -“Yes, and I have waited with some impatience for an invitation here, -which came just to-day. You see how quickly I accepted.” - -“What a dainty reproof,” she said, laughing. “But I have been away all -the summer or you should have been invited here long ago.” - -A few such commonplaces passed between them, then Dorothy referred to -Elliott’s speech, which she had listened to with interest. - -“I was so suddenly called upon that I did little justice to the -subject, and it is a subject of such grave responsibility. But perhaps -it is just as well that I did not have time to present it more strongly -for it appears to have been already misunderstood, and I hear that not -a few have branded me with all sorts of bad names. I trust I have not -fallen under your condemnation.” - -“Well, to be frank, I think you exhibited a somewhat fanatical anxiety -to lecture people differently circumstanced,” she answered gravely. -“Yet I did not condemn you. I hope you give me credit for more -liberality than that. You are new to our land, and have much to grow -accustomed to. We should not expect you at once to see this matter as -we do,” was the evasive reply. - -“She certainly does not lack the courage of her convictions,” he -thought. Then aloud: - -“You evidently think I shall alter my views?” this in his airily candid -manner; “I stated the true conditions of affairs, just as I understand -them.” - -“There is the trouble. The true condition is not as you and many others -understand it.” - -“Then let us hope that I may fully comprehend before a great while. I -at least intend to make the best of this opportunity, for, as you may -know, I have settled permanently in Georgetown.” - -She looked up with a beautiful aloofness in her eyes. The brave mouth, -with its full, sensitive lips, was strong, yet delicate. - -“I am glad to hear that, for then you can hardly fail, sooner or later, -to feel as we do about the subject of your to-day’s discussion. I hope -to help you to think kindly of your new home.” - -“Nothing could be more comforting than this from you,” he assured her, -with that frank manner which suited well the fearless expression of -his face. “I am now delightfully quartered with my kinsman, Mr. Field, -whose acres join yours, I believe; so we shall be neighbors.” - -Then they laughed. “We are really to be neighbors after all our quarrel -in the mountains? Well!” she added, hospitably, “a cover will always -be laid for you at our table, and you shall have due warning of any -entertainment that may take place. It shall be my duty to see that you -are thoroughly won over to the South; to her traditions as well as her -pleasures.” - -“But changing this flippant subject to one of graver importance, just -now; there is one thing absolutely necessary for you Kentuckians to -learn before you win me.” His face lighted with a charming smile. - -“What is that?” she asked. - -“You must first know how to make Manhattan cocktails.” - -She answered with a pretty pout, “I--we can make them now; why -shouldn’t we? Doesn’t all the good whiskey you get up North come from -the bluegrass state?” - -Amused at her loyalty, Elliott assented willingly: “That is a fact. And -I like your whiskey,--a little of it--I like your state--all of it--its -bluegrass, its thoroughbreds, and its women. But, you will pardon me, -there is something wanting in its cocktails, perhaps--it’s the cherry!” - -“A fault that can be easily remedied, and--suppose we did succeed, -would you belong to us?” - -“I’m afraid I would,” he agreed smilingly. - -Here the music of the two-step stopped, and Uncle Josh, the old negro -fiddler, famous the country over for calling the figures of the dance, -straightened himself with dignity, and called loudly: - -“Pardners for de las’ waltz ’fore supper!” - -Dorothy could not keep the mirth from her lips. Uncle Josh was not -measuring time by heartbeats but the cravings of his stomach; his -immortal soul was his immortal appetite. However, whatever motive -inspired him to fix the supper time, it proved efficacious, and -partners were soon chosen and the dancing began again as vigorously as -ever. - -Dorothy and Elliott were not slow in joining the other dancers and -glided through the dreamy measures which Uncle Josh, despite his -longing to eat, drew forth sweetly from his old, worn fiddle. He was -the soul of melody and had an eye to widening his range of selections -and his inimitable technique appreciating the demands upon his art. -When, with an extra flourish, Uncle Josh eventually brought the music -to an end, Mr. Carr, with his easy Southern manner, courteously invited -every one in to supper. He led the way, accompanied by Elliott Harding -and Dorothy. - -How pretty the dining-room looked! Its half-light coming through soft -low tones of pink. Big rosy balls of sweet clover, fresh from the -home fields, were massed in cream tinted vases, bunched over pictures -and trailed down in lovely confusion about the window and straggling -over door frames. Upon the long table stood tall candlesticks and -candelabras many prismed, with branching vines twisted in and out in -quaint fashion, bearing tall candles tipped with pink shades. From -the centre of the ceiling to each corner of the room first, then to -regular distances, were loosely stretched chains of pink and white -clovers. Large bows of ribbon held these lengths in place where they -met the chair board. In each corner close to the wall were jars which, -in their pretty pink dresses of crinkled paper held in place by broad -ribbon sashes, would scarcely be recognized as the old butter pots of -our grandmothers’ days. From these jars grew tufts of rooted clover. -Even the old fireplace and broad mantel were decked with these blossoms. - -At each side of the table stood two glass bowls filled with branches -of clover leaves only; one lot tied with pink ribbon, the other with -white. When supper was served these bowls were passed around while -Dorothy repeated the pretty tradition of the four-leaf clover. Then -commenced the merry hunt for the prize that only two could win. Bright -eyes and deft fingers searched their leaves through. - -While this went on, in the dining-room just outside, under the moon -and the maples, near the kitchen door, was another scene as joyous, if -not so fair. At the head of the musician’s banquetting board sat Uncle -Josh, hospitably helping each to the good things Aunt Chloe had heaped -before them in accordance with the orders of “her white folks.” She was -considered one of the most important members of the Carr household, -having been in the service of the family for thirty years, being a -blend of nurse, cook and lady’s maid. - -As Uncle Josh’s brown, eager hands greedily grasped the mint julep, and -held it sparkling between him and the light, with a broad smile on his -beaming face, he exultantly exclaimed: - -“De Lawd love her soul, Miss Dor’thy, nebber is ter fergit we all. -Talk erbout de stars! She’s ’way ’bove dem.” - -While he and his companions drank mint julep in token that his -grateful sentiment was recognized as a toast to the fine hostess, the -dining-room was ringing with laughter and congratulations over Elliott -Harding’s victory, he having found one of the four-leaved trophies. - -“Where is its mate?” was the eager question as nimble fingers and sharp -eyes searched over the little bunches right and left again, anxious to -find this potent charm against evil. The search, however, was vain. -Some one asked if its loss meant that Mr. Harding should live unwedded -for the rest of his days. - -The evening closed with jokes of his bachelorhood. - -By midnight the dining-room was still, the table cleared, the only sign -of what had been was the floor with its scattered leaves. - -All tired out with the long hours of gayety, Dorothy had hurried off to -bed. There was a little crushed four-leaved clover fastened upon her -nightgown as she lay down to her sweet, mysterious, girlish dreams. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -Dorothy’s father, Napoleon Carr, was a man well known and greatly -respected throughout the south country where he had always lived. -His existence had been a laborious one, for he had entered the lists -heavily handicapped in the matter of education. Intellectual enjoyment, -dimly realized, had never been his; but he struggled that his family -might have a fairer chance. Much of his comfortable income of late -years had been generously devoted to the education of his daughter. - -He had been happily wedded, though long childless. At length, when -Dorothy was born it was at the price of her mother’s life. This was -a terrific blow to the husband and father. He was inconsolable with -grief. The child was sent to a kinsman for a few months, after which -time Mr. Carr felt that he must have her ever with him. To him there -was nothing so absorbing as the tender care of Dorothy. He was very -prideful of her. He watched her daily growth and then, all at once, -while he scarcely realized that the twilight of childhood was passing, -the dawn came, and, like the rose vine by his doorway, she burst into -bloom. - -With what a reverential pride he saw her filling the vacant place, -diffusing a fragrance upon all around like the sweet, wet smell of a -rose. - -He was a splendid horseman and crack shot, and it had been one of his -pleasures to teach her to handle horse and gun. Together they would -ride and hunt, and no day’s outing was perfect to him unless Dorothy -was by his side. - -It was not surprising, therefore, to find her a little boyish in her -fondness for sport. However, as she grew to womanhood, she sometimes, -from a fancy that it was undignified, would decline to take part in -these sports. But when he had started off alone with dogs and gun, -the sound of running feet behind him would cause him to turn to find -Dorothy with penitent face before him. Then lovingly encircling his -neck with arms like stripped willow boughs, the repentant words: “I do -want to go. I was only in fun,” would be a preface to a long day of -delight. - -In time these little moods set him thinking, and he began to realize -that their beautiful days of sporting comradeship were in a measure -over. How he wished she might never outgrow this charm of childhood. - -Ah! those baby days, not far past! How often of nights the father went -to her bedroom, just touching his child to find out if the covering was -right and that she slept well. How many, many times had he leaned over -her sleeping form in the dim night light, seeming to see a halo around -her head as he watched the dimpling smile about her infant mouth, and, -recalling the old nurse saying, that when a baby smiles, angels are -whispering to it, took comfort in the thought that maybe it was all -true, that the mother was soothing her child to deeper slumber, and -so, perhaps, was also beside him. All unconsciously she had slept, -never hearing the prayer to God that when the day should come when she -would leave him for the man of her heart, death might claim his lone -companionship. - -How it hurt when the neighbors would says “You have a grown daughter -now,” or “Dorothy is a full fledged woman.” It was not until then that -Mr. Carr had let his daughter know that it would almost break his heart -if she should ever leave him for another. But he made absolutely no -restrictions against her meeting young men. - -Of course this rare creature had sweethearts not a few, for the -neighboring boys began to nourish a tender sentiment for her before she -was out of short dresses. Her playmates were free of the house; their -coming was always welcome to her and encouraged by her father though -this past year, when a new visitor had found his way there, the father -took particular note of her manner toward this possible suitor. The -kind old eyes would follow her with pathetic eagerness, not reproaching -or reproving, only always questioning: “Is this to be the man who -shall open the new world’s doors for her; who shall give her the first -glimpse of that wonderful joy called love?” - -Yet so truly unselfish was her nature,--despite the unlimited -indulgences when, visiting in congenial homes where she was petted and -admired, full of the intoxication of the social triumphs, she had out -of the abundance of her heart exclaimed: “Oh, I am so happy! happy! -happy!”--there was sure to follow a time of anxious solicitude, when -she asked herself, “But how has it been with him--with dear old father?” - -It was so generous of him to spare so much of her society; so good of -him to make her orphan way so smooth and fair. She could read in his -pictured face something of the loneliness and the disappointments he -had borne; something of the heartaches he must have suffered. All this -she recalled, the pleasure of it and the pain of it, the pride and joy -of it. What a delight it was to make her visit short, and surprise him -by returning home before he expected her. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -Time went swiftly. The seasons followed each other without that -fierceness in them to which one is accustomed in the North. The very -frosts were gentle; slowly and kindly they stripped the green robes -from tree and thicket, gave ample warning to the robin, linnet and -ruby-throat before taking down the leafy hangings and leaving their -shelter open to the chill rains of December. The wet kine and horses -turned away from the North and stood in slanting rains with bowed heads. - -Christmas passed, and New Year. Pretty soon spring was in the valleys, -creeping first for shelter shyly, in the pause of the blustering wind -that was blowing the last remnants of old winter from the land. - -There was a general spreading of dry brush over the spaded farm -country; then the sweet, clean smell of its burning and a misty veil -of thin blue smoke hanging everywhere throughout the clearing. As soon -as the fear of frost was gone, all the air was a fount of freshness. -The earth smiled its gladness, and the laughing waters prattled of the -kindness of the sun. When the dappled softness of the sky gave some -earnest of its mood, a brisk south wind arose and the blessed rain came -driving cold, yet most refreshing. At its ceasing, coy leaves peeped -out, and the bravest blossoms; the dogwoods, full-flowered, quivered -like white butterflies poised to dream. In every wet place the little -frogs began to pipe to each other their joy that spring was holding her -revel. The heart of the people was not sluggish in its thankfulness -to God, for if there were no spring, no seed time, there would be no -harvest. Now summer was all back again. Song birds awakening at dawn -made the woods merry carolling to mates and younglings in the nests. -All nature was in glad, gay earnest. Busy times, corn in blossom -rustling in the breeze, blackberries were ripe, morning-glories under -foot, the trumpet flower flaring above some naked girdled tree. Open -meadows full of sun where the hot bee sucks the clover, the grass tops -gather purple, and ox-eyed daisies thrive in wide unshadowed acres. - -“Just a year ago since I came to the South,” mused Elliott Harding, -as he walked back and forth in his room, the deep bay window of which -overlooked a lawn noticeably neat and having a representative character -of its own. - -As a rule, South country places in thickly settled regions are -pronounced unlovely at a glance, either by reason of the plainness of -their architecture or by the too close proximity of other buildings. -Here was an exception for the outhouses were numerous but in excellent -repair and red-tiled like the house itself. The tiles were silvered -here and there with the growth and stains of unremoved lichens. There -was not an eye-sore anywhere about this quiet home of Mr. Field. - -Elliott’s intimates had expressed a pity for him. Surely this quiet -must dull his nerves so used to spurring, and he find the jog-trot of -the days’ monotony an insupportable experience. That Elliott belonged -to the world, loved it, none knew better than himself. He had revelled -in its delights with the indifferent thought, “Time enough for fireside -happiness by-and-by.” His interest in life had been little more than -that which a desire for achievement occasions in an energetic mind. - -In spite of his past association, his past carelessness, this moment -found him going over the most trivial event that had the slightest -connection with Dorothy Carr. He tried to recall every word, every -look of hers. Often when he had had a particularly hard day’s work, -it rested him to stop and take supper with the Carrs. The sight of -their home life fascinated him. He had never known happy family life; -he had little conception of what a pure, genial home might be. The -simple country customs, the common interests so keenly shared, the -home loyalty--all these were new to him, and impressed him forcibly. -And how like one of them he had got to feel walking in the front hall -often, hanging up his hat, and reading the evening papers if the folks -were out, and sometimes when Aunt Chloe told him where Dorothy had -gone, he felt the natural inclination to go in pursuit of her. He -remembered once finding her ankle deep in the warm lush garden grasses, -pulling weeds out from her flowers, and he had actually got down and -helped her. That was a very happy hour; the freshness of the sweet -air gave her unconventional garb a genuine loveliness--gave him a -sense of manliness and mastery which he had not felt in the old life. -How infinitely sweet she looked! Something about her neatness, grace -and order typified to him that palladium of man’s honor and woman’s -affection--the home. She appealed to the heart and that appeal has no -year, no period, no fashion. - -Daylight was dying now; he looked longingly towards the gray gables, -the only indication of the Carr homestead. Afar beyond the range of -woodland the day’s great stirrup cup was growing fuller. Up from the -slow moving river came a breath of cool air, and beyond the landline -quivered the green of its willows. Dusk had fallen--the odorous dusk of -the Southland. In the distance somewhere sounds of sweet voices of the -negroes singing in the summer dark, their music mingling with the warm -wind under the stars. The night with its soft shadings held him--he -leaned long against the window and listened. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -“Whar’s dat bucket? Whar’s dat bucket? Here it is done sun up an’ my -cows aint milked yit!” - -Aunt Chloe floundered round in a hurry, peering among the butter bowls -and pans on the bench, in search of her milk bucket. - -“I’se ransacked dis place an’ it kyant be paraded,” she said, placing -her hands on her ample hips to pant and wonder. Meanwhile she could -hear the impatient lowing of the cows and the hungry bleating of the -calves from their separate pens. Presently her thick lips broadened -into a knowing smile. - -“Laws ter gracious! If Miss Dorothy aint kyard my las’ ling’rin basket -an’ bucket to dem cherry trees. She ’lowed to beat de birds dar. Do she -spec me to milk in my han’? I’m gwine down dar an’ git dat.” - -Here she broke off with a second laugh, and with a natural affection in -the midst of her hilarity, which had its tender touch with it. - -“I’se lyin’! I’d do nuthin’ ob de sort. If she’d wanted me ter climb -dem trees myself I’d done it even if I’d knowed I’d fall out and bust -my ole haid.” - -Again Aunt Chloe looked about her for something which would do service -for a milkpail. Out in the sun stood the big cedar churn, just where -she had placed it the night before that it might catch the fresh -morning air and sunshine. At sight of it she looked relieved. - -“Well! dis here doan leak, and aint milk got to go in it arter all?” So -shouldering the awkward substitute, she hurried to the “cup pen” with -the thought: “Lemme make ’aste an’ git thro’, I’se gwine ter he’p Miss -Dorothy put up dem brandy cherries.” - -Down in the orchard Dorothy was picking cherries to fill the last -bucket whose loss had caused Aunt Chloe’s mind such vexation, and whose -substitute--the churn--was now causing her a vast deal more, as the cow -refused to recognize any new airs, and so moved away from its vicinity -as fast as she set it beside her. - -Presently Dorothy heard the sound of a horse’s tread, at the same time -a voice called out: - -“Oh, little boy, is this the road to Georgetown?” - -Elliott Harding had drawn in rein, and was looking up through the -leaves. - -“How mean of you!” she stammered, her face flushing. “What made you -come this way?” - -He only laughed, and did not dare admit that Aunt Chloe had been the -traitor, but got down, hitched his horse, and went nearer. Dorothy -was very lovely as she stood there in the gently swaying tree, one -arm holding to a big limb, while the other one was reaching out for a -bunch of cherries. Her white sunbonnet with its long streamers swayed -over her shoulders. Her plenteous hair, inclined to float, had come -unplaited at the ends and fell in shimmering gold waves about her blue -gingham dress. Nothing more fragrant with innocent beauty had Elliott -ever seen, as her lithe, slim arms let loose their hold to climb down. -She was excited and trembling as she put out her hands and took both -his strong ones that he might help her to the ground. - -“I suppose it is tomboyish to climb trees,” she commenced, in a -confused sort of way. “But, the birds eat the cherries almost as fast -as they ripen, and I wanted to save some nice ones for your cocktails.” - -A look of embarrassment had been deepening in Dorothy’s face. Her -voice sounded tearful, and looking at her he saw that her lips -quivered and her nostrils dilated, and at once comprehended that the -frank confession was prompted by embarrassment rather than gayety. -Remembering her diffidence at times with him, he quickly reassured her, -feeling brutal for having chaffed her. - -“It is all right to climb if you wish,” he said. “I admire your -spirit of independence as well as your fearlessness. You are a -wholesome-minded girl; you will never be tempted to do anything -unbecoming.” - -As he stood idly tapping the leaves with his whip, a strange softening -came over him against which he strove. He wanted to find some excuse -to get on his horse and ride away without another word. He looked -off toward the path along which he had come. At the turn of it was -Aunt Chloe’s cabin, half hidden by a jungle of vines and stalks of -great sunflowers. Festoons of white and purple morning-glories ran -over the windows to the sapling porch around which a trellis of gourd -vines swung their long-necked, grotesque fruit. Flaming hollyhocks -and other bits of brilliant bloom gave evidence of the warm native -taste that distinguished the negro of the old regime. The sun flaring -with blinding brilliancy against the white-washed fence made him turn -back to the shade where he could see only Dorothy’s blue eyes, with -just that mingling of love and pain in them; the sweet mouth a little -tremulous, the color coming and going in the soft cheeks. - -“And a cocktail with the cherry will be perfect.” He had almost -forgotten to take up the conversation where she had left off. “But your -dear labor has brought a questionable reward. You will remember the -cherry was the one thing lacking to make me yours?” - -“Oh, yes!” her face lightening with a sudden recollection. “Now you do -belong to us.” - -“If ‘us’ means you, I grant you that I have been fairly and squarely -won.” - -Dropping his whip, Elliott leaned over and took Dorothy’s face between -his hands bringing it close to his own, their hearts and lips together -for one delicious moment. - -“Dorothy, we belong to each other,” he said, gazing straight into her -eyes. - -She had been beautiful to him always, but loveliest now with the look -of love thrilling her as he felt her tapering wrists close around his -neck. - -“It seems as though I have loved you all my life, Elliott.” - -“Oh, if in loving me, the sweetness of you, the youth, the happiness -should be wasted! Shall I always make you happy, I often ask myself. I -want to know this, Dorothy, for I hope to make you my wife.” - -At the word “wife,” delicate vibrations glided through her, deepening -into pulsations that were all a wonder and a wild delight, throbbing -with the vigor of love and youth that drenched her soul with a -rapturous sense. - -“Oh, Elliott! Elliott! You are mine. All mine.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -Happy weeks! Happy moons! uncounted days of uncounted joys! For Elliott -and Dorothy the summer passed away in blissful Arcadian fashion. She -was to him that most precious and sustaining of all good influences--a -woman gently wise and kindly sympathetic, an influence such as weans -men by the beauty of purity from committing grosser sins and elevates -them above low tastes and its objects by the exquisite ineffable -loftiness of soul, which is the noblest attribute of pure womanhood. - -There was a bond between these two, real eternal, independent of -themselves, made not by man, but God. - -With the hope of sparing her father sorrow over the fact that another -shared her affection, Dorothy did not at first tell him of her -engagement, and Elliott was not unnaturally reticent about it, having -so often heard that Mr. Carr would feel it a heavy blow to have his -daughter leave him alone. - -September was now well advanced and the equinoctial storms were bold -and bitter on the hills. Many trees succumbed to their violence, broken -branches filled the roads and tall tree trunks showed their wounds. -The long blue grass looked like the dishevelled fur of an animal that -had been rubbed the wrong way. There were many runnels and washouts -trending riverward in the loose soil. By the time the storm showed -signs of abating, considerable damage had been done. Many barns, cabins -and even houses were unroofed or blown down. Among other victims of -the wind was Mr. Field, inasmuch as the old homestead which he had -purchased of Elliott was one of the buildings wrecked. - -It happened that the morning after the storm, Elliott was to drive into -town with Dorothy. As they passed along, they noted here and there the -havoc wrought. Finally, as they approached the old Harding place, they -saw that the fury of the storm had counted it among its playthings. -Elliott gazed lingeringly and sadly at the wreck. Then he stopped the -horses and helping Dorothy out of the vehicle he tied the team and -together they went up the pathway, looking often at each other in -mute sorrow. She felt that any words of consolation would be out of -place while the first shock lasted, so kept silent, letting her eyes -tell of her sympathy. For a time they stood and looked at the scene -of devastation, the ruins covered with abundant ivy that gleamed and -trembled in the light of the sun. Then Elliott said slowly: - -“My father’s wish is now beyond the reach of possible denial. Nature -has destroyed it, just as he wished it should be done.” - -Walking about, looking now at this, now at that remnant of the wreck, -he kept biting his lips to keep back the tears, but the sight was so -like looking upon a loved one dead, that he could not long keep them -back--hot tears came in a passionate gush, and he must allow himself -relief of them. - -Business successes eventually rendered it possible for Elliott to -gratify his old ambition about the homestead and thinking that the -time for action had come the next day, when his uncle dropped into his -office to talk over the storm and its destroying of the old homestead, -Elliott suggested: - -“Uncle Philip, I have a mind to buy that lot from you. Would you sell -it?” - -“Why do you ask? Are you going to get married?” - -“If I can ever get the father’s blessing of the woman I love, I am,” -was Elliott’s straightforward reply. - -Mr. Field looked solemn. “I am afraid no man will ever get his willing -consent, if you refer to Mr. Carr,” he remarked. - -“Well, never mind, that has no connection with this proposition. I have -long had a desire to do something to perpetuate my father’s memory. -Since fate has removed the house, I have an idea of erecting a building -and presenting it as an institution for the manual education of colored -children.” - -The astonished look on Mr. Field’s face gave place to one of admiration -as Elliott proceeded and he quickly interrupted: - -“My dear boy, I am glad to say I have anticipated you. The bank has in -its safe keeping a deed already made out in your name. The property -has always been and now is yours to do with as you please.” - -“Uncle Philip, you overwhelm me with surprise and gratitude,” exclaimed -Elliott grasping the old man’s hand firmly in his. “You are too good to -me.” - -Mr. Field rested his face in his hand and regarded his nephew with all -the fondness of a parent. After a pause, Elliott continued: - -“Since you have so greatly aided me by giving me such a generous start, -I will myself erect the building, but together we will make the gift of -it in my father’s name, and call it the ‘Richard Harding Institute.’” - -Mr. Field showed the warmth of his appreciation by grasping his -nephew’s hand, and together they discussed at length the plan of the -buildings. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -As Elliott drove briskly home that evening, hope pointed -enthusiastically forward. The two ambitions he was about to realize -had long been interwoven with the whole tenor of his existence. The -possibility of making a fitting memorial to his father’s name had been -unexpectedly brought about, and following close upon this good luck -came the gratifying news that the book he had been so long at work upon -had been favorably received by the publishers, who were assured not -only of its literary merit, but of its commercial value as well, since -it dealt with the popular side of the lynching evil, as viewed by the -outer world. His subject was at the time attracting so much attention -and causing so many heated discussions, that he had hardly dared to -hope that his first attempt in serious literature would meet with the -success of acceptance. - -When he got home he found his uncle looking over the manuscript which -had been returned to him for final review and quietly took a seat -beside him to listen to his comments while awaiting the supper hour. - -Mr. Field laid the papers on his knee. - -“This is very good, as a story. I can truthfully say that I am more -than pleased with it from a literary standpoint. But that alone is no -reason for publishing. This haste to rush into print is one of the bad -signs of the times. Your views as herein expressed are more pardonable -than reasonable, for they are your inheritance rather than your fault.” - -“I have been conscientious, am I to blame for that?” - -“Who is to blame?” asked his uncle. “First, your mother had something -to do with the forming of your opinions. She had the training of your -mind at that critical age when the bend of the twig forms the shape of -the tree, and no doubt the society in which you have been thrown has -helped to make you an agitator.” - -“Society must then take the consequences of its own handiwork. As for -my mother, I will say in her defense, that if her teachings were not -always the best, she aimed toward what she considered a high ideal.” - -Mr. Field knew there was a deep sincerity, an almost fanatical -earnestness in his nephew, and he respected him none the less for it. -He was at that critical season of life in which the mind of man is made -up in nearly equal proportions of depth and simplicity. - -“I see your convictions are real, yet I strongly advise you to give -more time to the matter and make further investigation before you give -your views to the world.” - -“The more I search, the more I find that condemns lynching.” Elliott -spoke in a deferential tone, for despite his own strong convictions, -the soundness of his uncle’s views on other matters made him respect -his opinion of this. - -“I wish you would give over reading those unprincipled authors, my boy, -whose aim is to excite the evil passions of the multitude; and shut -your ears to the extravagant statements of people who make tools of -enthusiastic and imaginative minds to further their own selfish ends. -An intelligent conservatism is one of the needs of the day.” - -“I am profoundly sorry that my work is so objectionable to you. My -publishers tell me it is worth printing, and as evidence of their -assurance, they offer me a good round sum, besides a royalty.” - -“I grant the probabilities of the book being a pecuniary success, -but there are other considerations. You must recollect that all your -prospects are centered in the South, and now the affections of your -heart bind you here; therefore you should give up all this bitter -feeling against us. As you know more of this race, you will find that -it is by no means as ill used as you are taught to believe. I advise -you most earnestly, as you value your future here, to suppress this -book, which would do the South a great injury and yourself little -credit.” - -Mr. Field leaned wearily back on the high armchair. He had swayed -Elliott in some things, but it was clear that in one direction one -would always be opposed to that which the other advocated. They could -never agree, nor even affect a compromise. The nephew was grieved, -yet his purpose was fixed, and he fed on the hope of one day winning -reconciliation through fame if not conviction, and in reuniting the -sister and brother in the mutual pride of his success. - -With half a sigh Elliott began rearranging the pages, when a finely -written line in an obscure corner of one page caught his eye. Holding -it toward the light he read: - -“Are you my country’s foe, and therefore mine?” - -At her urgent request, he had allowed Dorothy to read the manuscript, -and had been happy in the thought that she had returned it into his own -hands without a word of criticism. As he read this question, he felt -and appreciated both her love for him and her loyalty to her people. -And, while she had not openly condemned his work, he knew he had not -her approval of its sentiment. He felt a growing knowledge that any -success, no matter its magnitude, would be hollow unless she shared his -rejoicings. - -As soon as the quiet meal was done, he set out for the Carr’s. Twilight -was well advanced. A white frost was on the stubble fields and the -stacked corn and the crimson and russet foliage of the woodside had the -moist look of colors on a painter’s palette. - -At the window, Dorothy stood and watched her sweetheart come. The same -constancy shone in her gentle face for him as ever and her greeting was -as warm as his fondest anticipations could have pictured. - -“Have I displeased you? You do not share a pride in my work, Dorothy?” - -“Since you guess it,” she answered, “I may be spared the pain of -confessing.” - -Elliott was silent for a time, but his expression showed the deep -disappointment he felt. - -At length in an undertone, he said: - -“Don’t reproach me. Of course you have not felt this as I feel it, -being so differently situated and looking at it from another point of -view.” - -Seeing that he paused for her answer, Dorothy replied: “I have -considered all this. But do you not see what a reflection your clever -plot is upon us, or what a gross injustice it will do the South?” - -“Cold facts may sound harsh, but you will be all the better for your -chastening. The South will advance under it.” - -“I wish I could believe it; the chances are all against us. Why did you -ever want to take such a risk?” and the air of the little, slender, -determined maiden marked the uncompromising rebel. - -Elliott deliberately arose. His face was earnest and full of a strange -power. - -“It hurts me to displease you, Dorothy, but I must direct my own will -and conscience. To hold your respect and my own, I must be a man,--not -a compromise.” - -There was such lofty sentiment in that calm utterance from his heart -that Dorothy, acknowledging the strength of it, could not resist the -impulse of admiring compassion and stifling any lingering feeling of -resentment, she quietly laid her hand on his and looked into his face -with eyes that Fate must have purposed to be wells of comfort to a -grieving mind. At her touch Elliott started, looked down and met her -soothing gaze. - -“If it were not for our mistakes, failures and disappointments, the -love we bear our treasures would soon perish for lack of sustenance. -It is the failures in life that make one gentle and forgiving with the -weak and I almost believe it is the failures of others that mostly -endear them to us. Do what you may, let it bring what it will, all my -love and sanction goes with it,” she said softly. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -October days! The sumacs drabbled in the summer’s blood flaunt boldly, -and green, gold and purple shades entrance the eye. The mullein -stands upon the brown land a lonely sentinel. The thistle-down floats -ghost-like through the haze, and silvery disks of a spider’s web swing -twixt the cornrows. - -Sunday. Elliott remained at home until late in the afternoon. While -he feared the result, he still held to his fixed resolve to go that -day and definitely ascertain what was to come of his love for Dorothy. -He said to Mr. Field, as he started off, “I shall not be back to -supper--I am going to see Mr. Carr.” His voice was hopeful and his -face wore a smile. - -His nephew’s assumed hopefulness had long been more painful to Mr. -Field than this despondency he sought to cover by it. It was so unlike -hopefulness, had in it something so fierce in its determination--was so -hungry and eager, and yet carried such a consciousness of being forced, -that it had long touched his heart. - -Dorothy knew the object of this call, and when her father came into the -parlor she withdrew, full of sweet alarm, and left the two together. -A tender glance, a soft rustling of pretty garments, and Elliott knew -that he and her father were alone. He had scarcely taken his chair, -when he began: - -“Mr. Carr, I have come upon the most sacred and important duty of my -life.” - -“Draw your chair closer, I cannot see you well,” said Mr. Carr. “I am -growing old and my sight is failing me.” And the way his voice faded -into silence was typical of what he had said. - -Elliott obeying his request, continued: - -“I have had the honor of being received in this house for some -time--nearly two years now, and I hope the topic on which I am about to -speak will not surprise you.” - -“Is it about Dorothy?” - -“It is. You evidently anticipate what I would say, though you cannot -realize my hopes and fears. I love her truly, Mr. Carr, and I want to -make her my wife.” - -“I knew it would come. But why not a little later?” he said, -pathetically. - -It was so like a cry of pain, this appeal, that it made Elliott’s -heart ache and hushed him into silence. After a little, Mr. Carr said, -solemnly: - -“Go on!” - -“I know, after seeing you together from day to day, that between you -and her there is an affection so strong, so closely allied to the -circumstances in which it has been nurtured, that it has few parallels. -I know that mingled with the love and duty of a daughter who has -become a woman, there is yet in her heart all the love and reliance of -childhood itself. When she is clinging to you the reliance of baby, -girl and woman in one is upon you. All this I have known since first I -met you in your home life.” - -With an air of perfect patience the old man remained mute, keeping his -eyes cast down as though, in his habit of passive endurance, it was all -one to him if it never came his turn to speak. - -“Feeling that,” Elliott went on, “I have waited as long as it is in -the nature of man to do. I have felt, and even now feel, that perhaps -to interpose my love between you and her is to touch this hallowed -association with something not so good as itself, but my life is empty -without her, and I must know now if you will entrust her to my care.” - -The old man’s breathing was a little quickened as he asked, mournfully: -“How could I do without her? What would become of me?” - -“Do without her?” Elliott repeated. “I do not mean to stand between you -two--to separate you. I only seek to share with her her love for you, -and to be as faithful always as she has been; to add to hers a son’s -affection and care. I have no other thought in my heart but to double -with Dorothy her privileges as your child, companion, friend. If I -harbored any thought of separating her from you, I could not now touch -this honored hand.” He laid his own upon the wrinkled one as he spoke. - -Answering the touch for an instant only, but not coldly, Mr. Carr -lifted his eyes with one grave look at Elliott, then gazed anxiously -toward the door. These last words seemed to awaken his subdued lips. - -“You speak so manfully, Mr. Harding, that I feel I must treat your -confidence and sincerity in the same spirit.” - -“With all my heart I thank you, Mr. Carr, for I well understand that -without you I have no hope. She, I feel sure, would not give it, nor -would I ask her hand without your consent.” - -The old man spoke out plainly now. - -“I am not much longer for this world, I think, for I am very feeble, -and of all the living and dead world, this one soul--my child--is left -to me. The tie between us is the only one that now remains unbroken, -therefore you cannot be surprised that its breaking would crowd all -my suffering into the one act. But I believe you to be a good man. I -believe your object to be purely and truthfully what you have stated, -and as a proof of my belief, I will give her to you--with my blessing,” -and extending his hand, he allowed Elliott to grasp it warmly. - -“God bless you for this, Mr. Carr,” was all that he could say. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -Elliott had had a succession of busy months, when the case was called -for the notorious moonshiner, Burr Chester, who had killed the sheriff -while resisting arrest. The Grand Jury had found a true bill against -him for murder in the first degree and Elliott Harding had been engaged -to aid in the prosecution. It was no common case to deal with, and he -was keenly conscious of this fact. After two long weeks of incessant -work, a verdict of guilty was brought in, but as a last resort to save -his client’s neck, an appeal was taken to the higher courts. - -After this Elliott had gone home weak, nervous and excited beyond -natural tension. He spent a restless night, and the next morning was -unexpectedly called to Boston to attend to business that required his -immediate presence. He went over to let Dorothy know of his plans. -Under a spell of sadness and impulse he said passionately: - -“If I left, not knowing that a near day was to bring me back to you I -could not bear it. Our wedding day is just three weeks off, and from -that time on you are to be inseparably mine--mine forever!” - -She clung to him quivering, tears, despite her efforts to be strong, -escaping down her cheek. He held her to his heart and soothed her back -to something of the calm she had lost. - -Just ten days he expected to be gone. - -The intervening time busily passed in preparations for the approaching -wedding. Besides that, Dorothy’s heart had feasted upon the letters -that had daily come on the noon train out of the North. Each afternoon -since Elliott’s absence, she had been to town for the mail, having -no patience to await its coming from the office by any neighboring -messenger who chanced to pass that way. - -To-day’s expected letter was to be the last, for to-morrow Elliott -would be with her again. - -Oh, Love! Love! life is sweet to all mortals, but it was particularly -sweet to these two. - -After receiving her letter Dorothy started the short way home, singing -lightly some old love tune. In the deep forest around her the faithful -ring-dove poured forth his anthem of abiding peace. - - * * * * * - -John Holmes, the staunch friend of the family, had an engagement that -evening with the Carr’s; so he started out to overtake Dorothy, hearing -she had gone on just ahead of him. - -As he hurried along through the coming night, the moon’s white beams -fell deep down in the beechen stems. Now and again wood-folk wakened -from their dreams and carolled brokenly. The spirit of delicious peace -that pervaded the lowering twilight enriched and beautified the reverie -that rendered the dreamer oblivious to the present. His thoughts, -his hopes were far afield--wandering along beckoning paths of the -unexplored future. The office of prosecuting attorney was only the -first step. He dreamed of Congress, too. - -“Why shouldn’t one do whatever one wants to do?” - -Thus he mused, when suddenly the sound of crashing underbrush startled -him into consciousness of the present and a dark outline dashed into -the road just ahead from out of the dense thicket that lay to his left. -Before he could collect his scattered senses sufficiently to question -or intercept the excited runner, the man dodged to one side, and sped -along the road until he passed out of sight around an angle of the -wood. Holmes called after him to stop, but his command was not obeyed. - -“What’s the matter?” he shouted after the flying figure; but receiving -no answer, again he cried: - -“Stop, I say.” And this time a reply came in the shape of a faint groan -from near by in the wood. He dashed into the darkness of the forest in -the direction from whence the sound had come, his flesh quivering and -his breath coming in gasps as an overwhelming sense of apprehension -seized him. - -At first the gloom was such that he could see nothing distinctly and -he groped his way forward with difficulty. The moon that for a moment -had passed under a cloud now again shone brightly out, filling all -the open spaces with a play of wavering light. He forced himself into -the thicket from where he again heard a low sound--writhing, twisting -his way through the thick, hindering stems, and there before him, in a -little opening, he saw what appeared to be a prostrate human form. - -He sprang toward it and drew the clinging boughs aside to let the -moonlight in. Then he saw it was the figure of a woman. Two ghastly -gashes, edged with crimson, stained the white flesh of her throat. - -The awful meaning of the crime, as he thought of the headlong haste of -the flying man, surged over Holmes. He quickly knelt to gaze into her -face and as he gazed a terrible cry broke from his lips. - -“Dorothy! Oh, my God!” - -Raising the light form in his arms, he cried passionately on her name. - -The wind sobbed a dirge in the bare boughs above, but beside that, all -the country-side was still. - -The girl hung heavy and limp in his arms as he bore her to the -road. She made no answer to his cry--he felt blindly for a pulse--a -heart--but found none. - -One short, sharp gasp convulsed her breast as he gently laid her -down--a faint tremor passed over her frame, and she was dead! - -John Holmes looked into her face, distraught with agony. The blood -drummed in his ears, his heart beat wildly; dazed and bewildered, a -moment he stood--the power of action almost paralyzed. But he felt -that something must be done, and done quickly. - -With a superhuman effort he lifted the dead girl and carried her toward -her home. When he reached the door, after what seemed an eternity of -travel, he waited, struggling for composure. How could he meet her -father and break the news? Seeing no one around he slipped quietly in -and laid the body upon a couch in the room which so long had been her -own. When he entered the father’s room a deep calm filled the place. -There sat the old man in his armchair, his head fallen to one side in -the unstudied attitude of slumber. Upon his face there was more than a -smile--a radiance--his countenance was lit up with a vague expression -of content and happiness. His white hairs added sweet majesty to the -cheerful light upon his face. He slept peacefully--perhaps dreaming -that his child was well and would soon be home. - -An inexpressible pity was in his voice as John Holmes gently aroused -the sleeper and told him the mournful truth. He would never forget that -old face so full of startled grief--that awful appeal to him--that -withered hand upraised to heaven. Then darkness came before the dim old -eyes, when for a time all things were blotted out of his remembrance. - -The truth was so terrible that at first he could not grasp it. The -moan he uttered was inarticulate and stifled. Gently John Holmes led -him tremblingly to the couch where Dorothy lay--the blood still oozing -from her throat; the dew of agony yet fresh on her brow, her dainty -nostrils expanded by their last convulsive effort to retain the breath -of life, appearing almost to quiver. - -A moment, motionless and staring, he stood above her--dead! - -Slowly awaking to the awful reality, he threw his hands up with the -vehemence of despair and horror--then fell forward by her side, saying -by the motion of his lips, “Dead!” - -Slowly his speech returned, and he reached out one hand. - -“My boy, she is not dead. I feel her heart in mine, I see her love for -me in her face. No! she is not dead!--not dead!” his voice fell to a -whispered groan. - -The other tried to stay his tears and to reply, but he could only -touch her cold, bruised hand, hoping that he might grow to a perfect -understanding of the tragedy. - -The father turned his head. His look was full of supplicating agony. In -a plaintive and quivering voice he cried: - -“My God! My God! My God!” - -Presently John Holmes went away to give the alarm. Returning later, he -went through the dreary house and darkened the windows--the windows -of the room where the dead girl lay he darkened last. He lifted her -cold hand and held it to his heart--and all the world seemed death and -silence, broken only by the father’s moaning. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -The news flashed over the country as if by the lightning’s spark and by -nine o’clock the district was aroused to a state of frenzied passion. -From near and far they gathered to the stricken home, till in an hour -a mob had assembled, vowing torture and death to the fiend. A brief -questioning revealed the fact that the Carrs’ cook had seen a negro -man pass the kitchen door about dusk, and he had asked for a drink of -water. She would know him again, she said. - -A fierce yell rent the silence as Holmes told of the fleeing man and -grim curses filled the air, followed by the thunder of hoofbeats as -the horsemen dashed away in pursuit. On they rode through the darkness, -galloping where the way was clear, and everywhere and at all times -urging their horses to their utmost, every minute pressing forward -with increasing rage and recklessness. Uphill, downhill the searchers -went, scouring every nook and corner for miles around. Their panting -horses needed not to be urged. They seemed to have caught the same -fierce spirit that inspired their riders, their straining muscles and -distended nostrils telling of their eagerness and exertion. - -The night was going, but the searchers had as yet found no trace. If -the earth had opened and swallowed the one they sought, the mystery of -his disappearance could have been greater. - -Shrewder than those of unthinking haste, the sheriff permitted the -excited crowd to go ahead, that his plans would not be interfered with. -Then, with his deputies and a bloodhound, he went to the scene of the -murder. There he found a sprinkling of blood on the ground, and the -imprints of the heavy shoes in the moist earth showed the direction -which the murderer had taken. He quickly drew the hound’s nose to -the trail and cheered him on. The dark, savage beast was wonderful -at trailing, and had more than once overtaken fleeing criminals. He -sniffed intelligently for a few minutes, then gave an eager yelp and -plunged along the road, made an abrupt turn, then struck down through -a narrow hollow, deep and dark. The men put spurs to their horses and -dashed after him, heedless of the thorns that tore and reckless of -sharp blows from matted undergrowth and low-lying boughs. - -The hound, with his deep guide-note, despite their efforts, was soon -far ahead; his lithe, long body close to the earth, leaving no scent -untouched. - -The trail led through what is known as “Robbers’ Hollow,” a ravine that -runs in a trough through the winding hills, whose rugged sides looked -jagged and terrible, surrounded by a savage darkness full of snares, -where it was fearful to penetrate and appalling to stay. In spite of -all, they hurried on faster and faster. - -Far ahead the pilot note of the hound called them on and they were -well nigh exhausted when they came upon him, baying furiously at a -cabin built on the naked side of a hill, around which there was not a -tree or bush to shelter a man from bullets, should the occupants resist -arrest. As the sheriff and his men arrived, the hound flung his note in -the air and sent up a long howl, then dashed against the door, which -shook and strained from the shock. - -The sheriff called him to heel and placed his men at corners of the -cabin. He then rapped on the door and repeated it half a dozen times -before there was a response. Finally a man came to the front. - -“Who wants me this time of night?” he grumbled, in a deep, gruff voice, -as he stood in the doorway, his broad chest and arms showing strongly -dark in the light of the lamp he held. - -“I do,” answered the sheriff. “Do you live here?” - -“No, sir.” - -“When did you come here, and from where?” - -“From the other side of Georgetown, and I got here ’bout an hour before -dark.” - -“Why, Mr. Cooley,” whispered a voice at his elbow, “it was way arter -dark.” - -“Sh!” he stuttered, shuffling his feet that the men might not hear -anything else she said. - -“What is your name and occupation?” resumed the sheriff, calmly. - -“Ephriam Cooley, and I teach school ten miles north of Georgetown.” - -His speech was not that of a common negro, but of a lettered man, and -seemed strangely at variance with his bearded, scowling face. - -“Have you a knife? I would like to borrow it, if you’ve got one?” - -“No, sir, I left my knife in my other pants’ pocket.” - -“But you’ve got a razor, haven’t you? Let me have it,” said the -sheriff. “One of our men broke his girth and unfortunately we have no -way of fixing it, as there is not a knife in the crowd.” - -There was a slight agitation in the negro’s manner as he turned to find -the razor, or rather to pretend to search for it. The sheriff pushed in -after him. - -“Maybe I can help you find it?” he said, as he picked up a coat from -under one corner of the rumpled bed. A razor dropped to the floor. The -negro made a move toward it, but the sheriff’s foot held it fast. - -“You need not trouble yourself; I will get it,” he said, as he stooped -and raised it. “Bloodstained? Why, what does this mean?” - -“I killed a dog,” the negro muttered, his mouth parched with terror, -his vicious eyes shooting forth venomous flashes. “I’d kill anybody’s -dog before I’d let him bite me. Was it your dog?” and he shrank -slightly away. - -“No,” said the sheriff, “it was not mine, but I am afraid you made a -great mistake in killing that dog! Come, get yourself dressed and show -it to me.” - -“I threw him in the creek,” he said, angrily. - -“You are under arrest. Come, we are going to take you to Georgetown.” -The sheriff caught him by the arm. - -“What! for killing a dog, and a yellow dog at that?” He scowled blackly -and fiercely. “I’m in hopes you won’t get me into court about this -matter. I am willing to pay for it,” he said in a husky voice. - -“Very likely you will be called upon to pay--in full, but I will -protect you to the extent of my authority. Hurry up! we’ve no time to -lose. It is late and it’s going to rain.” - -The negro cast his eyes wildly about him, the last mechanical resource -of despair, but saw nothing else to do. - -Mounting the prisoner handcuffed behind him, the sheriff was soon off -for the Scott county jail, one of the party being sent ahead to have -the Carr cook in waiting. The negro had nothing to say, but rode on in -savage silence, his head dropped forward on his breast. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -A storm was gathering and the sheriff thought by hard riding he -might reach the nearest railway station before it broke. He knew his -prisoner’s life depended upon his getting him to a place of safety with -all speed. The whole country was alive with armed men. - -Far off the ordnance of the sky boomed as the battle of the elements -began. The lightning cut the clouds and soon the rain came, a dark -falling wall. As far as the eye could bore into the darkness, only one -light could be seen. They dared not take shelter under the roof of any -man. So the sheriff and his men rode on through the storm, picking -their way as best they could. - -Drenched and fagged, they reached the station only to find that the -Elkhorn trestle had sustained some damage and in consequence delayed -the Georgetown train. It would probably be three hours before the wreck -could be repaired. - -The position of the sheriff was now serious; he could not think of such -folly as remaining there at the mercy of the telegraph wires; he must -try to make the trip by the river road and that, too, before daybreak. - -A pint of whiskey was brought from the little corner saloon and the -party determined to start out again. The horses still bearing marks of -hard riding stood in waiting. As they set off the rain ceased, the -clouds broke and the moon came out brightly. Soon the sheriff thought -he heard the sound of a gun, the signal that the searchers were on his -track. They quickened their pace. - -“We are treed, I am afraid,” he said to his companions, and he could -almost see the mob surrounding them, and their pitiless joy after the -humiliation of having for awhile lost the trail. - -The prisoner began to show signs of anxiety. Every sound startled him -and he kept looking expectantly about. The men urged their horses and -rode on in a state of nervous tension to the ford where they must cross -the river. It was away out of its banks. They halted and there was a -moment’s silence. - -“She looks pretty high. What do you say?” asked the sheriff of one of -his deputies. - -The man shook his head forbiddingly. To attempt to cross the river -would be running a frightful risk. - -“There goes a gun again.” - -It required no longer an effort of the imagination to hear it. It was -a fact and with all the terror that reality possesses, the prisoner -shuddered, his restless eyeballs full of fear rolling wildly. - -The sheriff tried to collect his startled thoughts and resist the -strange certainty which possessed him. His own frame felt the shudder -that convulsed the form behind him. - -“Well!” he asked, once more addressing his deputy, “what say you?” - -“We’ll take the danger before us,” the other answered and, touching -their horses, they plunged in. Half way across, the sheriff -convulsively seized his horse’s neck for he could not swim. He was -struggling desperately against the waves, clinging frantically around -the neck of his swimming horse, when he heard a cry: - -“Great God, he’s gone!” and turning to look behind him, he saw that the -negro had disappeared into the water. All eyes turned toward the spot -where the manacled wretch had gone down. - -The drowning man arose to the surface a dizzy moment then sank again -as quickly. Not a cry, not a word could be heard. The river went on -booming heavily, its hoarse roar rising to a deafening intensity. The -chief deputy, meanwhile, had managed to slip from his horse and float -down stream, and with a violent swinging movement he succeeded in -thrusting one arm between the negro’s handcuffed ones and sustaining -him, just as he rose for the last time. Supporting him against his -horse an instant he tightened his hold, that he might keep both heads -above water. He was taking desperate chances against tremendous odds. - -With an indescribable feeling, the sheriff looked on but could render -no assistance. The swimmer fought hard, but, after pulling some -distance, it seemed clear that he had miscalculated his strength. Inch -by inch, the two swept downward, notwithstanding the almost superhuman -efforts of the desperate deputy. Gradually his stroke became more -feeble and he saw the gap between them and the bank grow wider, the -lost inches grew to feet, the feet to yards, and finally with utter -despair, he thought the whole world had turned to water. He felt -terrified. Exhaustion could be distinguished in all his limbs and his -arms felt miserably dragged. He was going, not forward, but round and -round, and with dizziness came unconsciousness. - -The next thing he remembered was an awful stiffness in every joint and -muscle, a scent of whiskey, and the sheriff kneeling beside him upon -the wet ground, forcing the warm liquid through his lips. As he gazed -about him, he slowly asked: - -“Did that d----d nigger die after all?” - -The sheriff had not time to tell him that the negro was safe, for the -next minute there came a volley of yells and sounds of oaths with the -dull thunder of rapidly advancing hoofbeats, and before either man -could speak again, a party of armed riders reined up in front of the -ford. - -“Stop! men, stop!” The sheriff’s voice was heard eagerly hailing those -on the opposite side. “You will risk your lives to try to cross here.” - -The quivering negro, terrified by the idea that the pursuers were upon -them, made an effort to rise. - -“My God! don’t let them take me! Don’t give me up!” - -There was something savage and frenzied in the accent that went with -those words. He clutched at the sheriff’s knees, his eyes became wild -and fixed and filled with terror. - -“We must have your prisoner,” someone shouted. “Will you surrender him?” - -“Not yet,” was the sheriff’s answer. “I deliver him only to the law.” - -“You’ll give him up!” cried a score of determined voices. - -“Never! Never!” - -“Then we will fire on him!” - -Like a flash, the sheriff jumped in front of his prisoner. “Fire -ahead,” he said. - -The next instant, there were a number of reports. All but one had fired -in the air. - -“Cowards!” yelled the leader, “kill ’em all!” - -“Look here,” answered one, “that sheriff lives neighbor to me.” - -“We’re out for the nigger, not a white man!” said another. “Wait boys, -we’ll get him yet!” - -The sheriff calmly mounted, forming a bar between the rifles and his -prisoner and rode away, leaving the mob to await the fall of the -stream. Half an hour later they reached the jail. - -“Chloe Carr,” the sheriff distinctly pronounced her name, as he -summoned the negro cook, “did you ever see this man before?” - -“Yas, sah.” - -“Will you tell me when and where?” - -The prisoner made a desperate sign, his fiendish face blazing with -mingled rage and terror. Wildly he shook his head. “She lies!” he -growled, with a sudden threatening movement. “She never saw me before.” - -An animal-like snarl came from his throat. His face was shining with -sweat, the veins of his neck were twisted and knotted. His body shook -with savage fear, and the woman trembled. - -She said excitedly: “He’s de one I saw pass de do’ awhile befo’ Miss -Dor’thy was found dead. I give him a drink ov water.” - -The prisoner was in a frenzy now. Fiercely he glared like a great -black beast, caged. The woman saw the officers fairly carry him into -the cell, but she felt less fear than sorrow now, as her heart was -full of the memory of the girl she had loved and had watched from the -cradle-side. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -Elliott Harding was coming home--home to Dorothy, and joy was so strong -within him that it almost touched the edge of tears. The rising sun was -trying hard to struggle out of a bluish haze, as he stepped from the -train at Georgetown. Nodding to a negro driver, he walked to the hack, -saying, “Drive me to my office, first, then you may take me out to Mr. -Carr’s.” - -The negro cast a glance behind, and stammered excitedly, as he mounted -to the seat: - -“Boss, dey’s erbout to mob yo’ man--de moonshiner dat you like ter got -hung, I reck’n. Dey’s done at de jail by now.” - -A mob! A multitude in passion! Anticipation of the consequences flashed -all too plainly upon Elliott Harding. A thrill shot through him! He -leaped into the back, and commanded: - -“Drive to the jail with all your might.” - -The negro’s white eyeballs rolled with swift alarm. He seized the -lines, laid on the whip and shouted: - -“Git up, git up.” - -The horses dashed forward and turned down the main street, the cumbrous -wheels tearing up the mud and flinging it to right and left. - -Elliott’s breath fluttered in his throat. A fellow being--the man for -whose conviction he had pleaded was in personal peril. In law he was -against this poor wretch; in humanity he was for him--humanity has -no distinctions. He saw but the slaughter!--the struggle!--the united -forces on the one side; the lone desperation on the other. - -The good horses were doing their best now, and with a final lurch and -swing were pulling up at the jail. Elliott bounded to his feet, rushed -into the stirring crowd, and pushed through the circle that was moving -toward the door. - -Low mutterings, fierce as the roar of a wounded lion, went forth as -one man threw up his clinched hand, from which dangled a rope. As -if impelled by a single spirit, they raged against the jail doors, -clamoring at the oak. - -“Hang him! hang him! Give us the keys!” - -The terror stricken criminal heard and cowered in his cell, his giant -muscles quivering in tense knots. He gathered himself for the last -struggle with a dogged fierceness born of savage courage. - -“Break down the doors!” - -At this command there was a crash and commotion below--and then -silence. Suddenly a man appeared facing them. He held up his hand, and -all recognized that it was Elliott Harding. - -“Fellow citizens,” he cried, his voice ringing out over the gathering. -“Don’t do this thing! This man will die by the hands of the law. Don’t -stain yours!” - -Directly there was a universal hush. The crowd stood like stone before -the calm courage of this remarkable arraignment. The men doubting -their senses, gazed at each other curiously, then they looked at -Elliott again. With indescribable speed a spirit flew from mind to -mind, seizing them all alike. Then without a word, silently, and as -though abashed, they turned away. Elliott was left alone, surprised at -his sudden triumph, gazing with a curious stare at the frowning walls -of the dingy jail. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -A half hour before, Elliott had been in a delicious reverie passing -what were, perhaps the sweetest moments of his life. He had awakened -early from a dream. He had dreamed that he felt the touch of soft -fingers upon his cheek and the beating of a loving heart against his, -and the memory of the ecstasy lingered like some charmed spell. Dorothy -was his very own--Dorothy, crowned with the beauty which combined all -of the woman and all of the angel. He saw nothing in the world save -her radiant face. He praised God for giving him her love, and the hope -of preserving that nearest likeness on earth to heaven--a home. This -sweet foretokening of life’s full, ripe completeness had filled his -heart. - -Joyous, enraptured, young, he had stepped upon the railway platform -at Georgetown. From such thoughts to the vivid scene at the jail, was -an abrupt and wild plunge into a whirling abysm. His mind was in a -turmoil, and he felt the need of cooling air and brisk movement to -regain his composure. - -As he set out on foot for the Carr’s, the sheriff, relieved from the -anxiety of the jail attack, overtook him. Laying hand on his shoulder, -he said earnestly: - -“Mr. Harding, you are a credit to your principles. I’m mightily obliged -to you. When you need a friend, I’m your man. Nobody could have -stopped that mob but you.” - -“I--why anyone else could have done so as well.” - -“No, because it was known that Miss Carr and you was goin’ to be -married soon. They naturally thought you ought to be the man to fix the -scoundrel’s sentence.” - -Elliott sprang round with such a start that the sheriff shrank back -instinctively. - -“What!” he gasped, “you don’t mean--you don’t mean--” - -“My God!” said the sheriff. “Haven’t you heard?” - -“Heard, heard what, man? not Dorothy? You can’t mean that it was -Dorothy Carr--what--what--” - -He stopped, a thrill of terror froze his blood. - -“It’s true--too true! Mr. Harding, she is dead!” - -“You lie! You lie!” Elliott shrieked. - -Then in a different tone, he huskily whispered: - -“Give me the keys, man, give me the keys! Quick! Quick!” - -It was all that the sheriff could do to make him understand that the -jailer had the keys. A whirlwind of ungovernable fury swept over him. - -“Good God!” he panted, “The driver said the mob was for the -moonshiner!” His senses reeled; staggering, he leaned against a wall -near by. - -“What shall I do, my God! What shall I do!” - -“I advise you to go first to her poor old father. They say the shock -has pretty near killed him,” said the sheriff. - -“You are right. I must go to him.” Elliott’s face knit convulsively -as he spoke, crushing back the horror that almost paralyzed him. Then -the sheriff proposed to get a buggy and drive him to Mr. Carr’s. As -they rode along silently, all nature was still and peaceful--cruelly -peaceful it seemed to Elliott, as he sat with his head inclined, his -body shaken with deep grief, his breast laboring hard. - -They soon reached the hushed, dark home. A long trail of blood lay in -ruddy streaks from the gateway to the door where the white crape swayed -so gently--so gently. - -Elliott walked slowly and as if stunned. He went into the house, turned -and looked about him. - -The parlor door was slightly open. He went in and began to walk the -floor--the resource of those who suffer. There are instincts for all -the crises of life--he felt that he was not alone. - -Nervously he unclasped and threw open the window blind, then, turning, -cast his eyes sadly about him. - -There sat the old father in a posture of dejection, his eyes almost -closed. Just beyond lay his child! Clasping his hands with an -expression full of the most violent, most gentle entreaty, Elliott -uttered a piercing cry! - -“Dorothy! Dorothy, my little girl, come back to me! Come back!” And -with this appeal he sank upon his knees with both hands upon his eyes. - -“Elliott! Elliott!” - -He raised his head at length and looked steadily at Mr. Carr--this -venerable, manly face, upon which God had imprinted goodness and -heroism. - -“Yes, father,” and leaning forward he embraced his white head. Drawing -it to his breast, his overcharged heart found relief in tears. - -The intense calm and silence of the father’s beautiful, mute -resignation finally silenced him. - -Rigid before the fire, as if it were a charmed flame that was turning -him old, he sat, with the dark lines deepening in his face; its stare -becoming more and more haggard; its surface turning whiter and whiter, -as if it were being overspread with ashes--the very texture and color -of his hair appearing to change. - -A sunbeam shot in and faltered over the face of the girl asleep. This -fair, white bride, robed in her wedding gown. - -Elliott got up and went to her side. He turned away again, and dropped -upon the broad divan, utterly helpless, hopeless. Here he lay face -downward, with his elbows on the cushions and his hands clutching his -chin, his sad eyes staring steadily. He lay for hours gazing upon -her face, moving not from the first position he had assumed. He took -no heed of time--time and he were separate that day. He was neither -hungry nor thirsty--only sick at the heart which lay like lead in him. - -By and by a long procession was seen moving from the house. Six bearers -deposited their burden. Dorothy’s grave had been made beside her -mother’s in the family burying ground, at the back of the garden. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -The preliminary inquiry into the case of Ephriam Cooley resulted in his -being held over to the next meeting of the Grand Jury, which was yet -some months away. - -Mr. Carr was not left alone in his grief. Elliott Harding gave up -residence at his uncle’s home and went to live with and care for him. - -Among the neighboring people, there prevailed a respect for these two -in their distress which was full of gentleness and delicacy. Men kept -apart when they were seen walking with slow steps on the street, or -stood in knots talking compassionately among themselves. - -At length the day came when the Grand Jury was in session. The absence -of witnesses, upon which the defense had relied to argue the innocence -of the accused, caused the prisoner’s counsel no little uneasiness as -the hour for the opening of the court drew near. As he paced restlessly -to and fro in the reserved space before the bench, there was a look of -anxiety on his countenance and a frown upon his brow. - -When the hands of the big clock pointed to nine, the judge ascended -the bench and took his seat. It was the signal for breathless silence, -and as if to emphasize this silence, his honor rapped sharply with his -gavel upon the desk in front of him. - -The clerk read the minutes of the preceding day and took the volume -over for the judicial signature. - -“The case of the State against Ephriam Cooley,” called the clerk. “Are -both sides ready?” - -The look of concern grew deeper on the face of the defendant’s -attorney. He asked for a few minutes’ consultation with his witnesses -and retired into an ante-room. Presently the door of this room opened -and the attorney reappeared. The expression of anxiety and suspense had -not left his face. - -“Your Honor,” he said, “the defense must ask for a continuance. We had -hoped to be ready to proceed with the case without delay or cost to the -state, but a witness whose testimony is essential and whom the defense -has spared no diligence to secure, has failed to appear. Believing that -the just interests of our client will suffer if we enter into trial -without this witness, we have decided to ask Your Honor to continue the -case until the next term.” - -The audience could scarcely restrain its impatience, and the judge -found it necessary to call for order before stating that the -postponement was granted. - -The courtroom was soon cleared. Groups of excited men gathered upon -the street, their looks indicating sullen anger and desperate resolve. -The bayonets of the militia had been set bristling around the jail and -their gleam was all that kept the crowds back. - -Meanwhile, the strain upon Elliott Harding was telling. He walked -erect with an effort and spent much of the time alone in his office, -with his head bowed upon the desk, moaning in unutterable anguish. His -suffering had drained his very soul--he could weep no more. Since the -tragedy, every hour, every day had been a lifetime of misery. Fate had -employed his bravest deeds for the breaking of his stout heart. Unheld, -unhindered, he had long chosen his road but now he was grasped with -sovereign indifference while there was brought upon him punishment for -the insufferable egotism of his stubborn contentions. This was the -bitterest cup he was ever called upon to drain, and he was never the -same after draining it. He was experiencing perhaps what the earth -experiences when it is furrowed with the share that the grain may be -sown; it feels the wound alone, the thrill of the germ and the joy of -the fruit are not yet come to comfort it. - -Mr. Carr was rapidly growing feeble. He was quite shut in. But with -every fiber of the Carr endurance, he clung to life, with every desire -intensified into the longing to live until the murderer’s trial was -ended. On this night he sat in a large wooden rocker near the window, -with a pillow at his shoulders. His pathetic figure, with its long -attenuated frame, testified to his rapid decline. The soft south wind -waved the white locks fringing his temples. One shaking hand lay -helplessly on the arm of the chair, the other held loose grasp of a -remotely-dated family monthly. His gray eyes, bright and clear in spite -of their fine, crape-like setting of wrinkles, were absently turned to -the sky. They kindled as Elliott laid a hand gently upon his shoulder. - -“How is my dear father by now?” - -“Pretty well,” he answered faintly--his old reply. - -“That’s good!” and Elliott tried to smile as he sank wearily into a -chair. - -Mr. Carr, noticing how thinly his lips fitted about his white, even -teeth, asked, “What have they done to my boy?” - -“Done enough, father,” said Elliot, starting up and revealing his -haggard, agitated face. “They have postponed the trial.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -The coming of October brought the next term of court. What seemed -an age had at last terminated and Ephriam Cooley was again brought -to trial. His removal from the prison to the courthouse was without -incident. The prisoner was guarded in the most thorough manner against -possible molestation. The regular police guards were reinforced by -deputies sworn in by the sheriff, and the vicinity of the court had, in -consequence, the appearance of an armed camp. - -Police were stationed at every approach as well as in the hall and -every preparation had been made to quell instantly any attempt at -lawless interference with the ordinary course of law. - -When the doors opened, the waiting crowd was allowed to enter and in a -few minutes all the available space within the courtroom was densely -packed. - -The judge took his seat. - -Ephriam Cooley entered between two officers, handcuffed, his bold, -insulting eyes wearing a look of sullen defiance, his unkempt beard -lending more than ever an animal look to his face. - -The selection of the jury occupied the greater portion of the morning, -but at length twelve citizens were impaneled and listened to the -reading of the indictment. - -The temper of the people might be seen in the burst of rage that swept -over the crowd when the atrocious deed was described. - -Elliott Harding, with his usual aspect of dignity, had schooled his -face into a cold passiveness, but though outwardly calm, his pulse was -throbbing with the fierceness of fever beats. A stranger entering the -courtroom would never have selected him from the group of men as the -one whose life had been crushed out by the object of this trial. - -When the reading was finished, the witnesses for the state were called. -The first name which rang through the courtroom was that of John -Holmes. The prisoner drew himself together and watched him keenly as -the oath was administered; his face, despite its defiant mask, had a -restless, haunted look which sat strangely on his hard, grim features. - -Skillfully aided by questions from the court, Holmes unfolded the whole -awful story of the first discovery of the dead body of Dorothy Carr. -Passing rapidly over the painful details, the sheriff told then of the -man-hunt, of the finding of the bloody razor as it had dropped from the -pocket of the prisoner’s coat. - -The negro cook of the Carrs swore that the prisoner was the man to whom -she had given a drink of water about half an hour before her mistress -had been brought home. - -Toward the close of the State’s evidence, the chain binding the -prisoner to the gallows had become all but complete. In the face of -such evidence and in the atmosphere of such bitter resentment, the -counsel appointed for his defense struggled against overwhelming odds. - -He contented himself with belittling the value of circumstantial -evidence adduced by the prosecution, and presenting the argument that -the prisoner’s education and his social position as a school teacher -attested to his inability to commit a crime so revolting in its -conception and so brutal in its execution. He stated that the woman at -whose house the prisoner had been arrested, had repeatedly said that he -had been at her house, some fifteen miles away from the scene of the -crime, at the very hour the deed was said to have been committed, that -she would testify to that statement here if she had not moved away and -could not now be located. Whatever effect the counsel thus produced was -more than neutralized when the prisoner was called to the stand for a -specious denial. - -The sinister fear with which the negro peered about the courtroom, the -affected nonchalance and thinly veiled defiance of his mumbled answers -told damningly against him. The passions of raging fear and terror -had driven from his low-browed face every trace of intellectuality or -culture, leaving only the cunning cruelty and ferocity of the animal. -His cross-examination left him without a vestige of self control, and -before it had well finished, in a violent passion he poured forth a -volley of oaths, his huge frame quivering as he burst into a raving, -shrieking arraignment of the white man, in which he had to be almost -throttled into silence by the deputies. - -When the prosecuting attorney arose to review the case, there hung over -the courtroom the ominous hush that is significant of but one thing. -After a brief recital of the details of the evidence, the counsel -appealed to the jury to do its sworn duty. - -The judge’s charge was a cool, impartial exposition of the law as it -applied to the case. When finished, the jury arose amid a general -movement of relief upon the part of the audience and as the twelve men -filed out, there was considerable excited conversation, mingled with -whispered speculations as to how long they would be out. Within the -courtroom proper, as soon as the jury had retired, the Court instructed -the sheriff to announce a recess. - -A half hour passed and there was a commotion in the outer hall. The -sheriff wore an agitated air. Presently, one by one, a half-dozen men -walked inside the railing and dropped carelessly into chairs. - -The prisoner looked at his new companions and evidently read aright -their mission. They were deputy sheriffs. Four of them sat in chairs -ranged behind the prisoner and one sat at either side of him. - -Directly across the aisle sat Elliott Harding, apparently cool and -patient. - -Very soon it became generally known that a verdict had been reached. - -During the next five minutes, the rooms filled rapidly. The sheriff -rapped for order and shouted: - -“Let everyone within the courtroom sit down.” - -From that moment the stillness of death prevailed. Every eye was turned -toward the prisoner. His fingers worked convulsively and his whole body -trembled. But few seconds elapsed before the twelve men slowly and -gravely filed into their places. - -“Have you reached a verdict, gentlemen?” asked the Court, as they lined -up. - -“We have, Your Honor,” answered the foreman. - -The Court then announced: “I want everyone to understand that the least -attempt at an expression of approval or disapproval of this verdict, as -it is read, will be punished by a fine for contempt. Mr. Clerk, read -the verdict.” - -The clerk obeyed. His voice was clear and everyone heard: “We, the -jury, agree and find the defendant, Ephriam Cooley, guilty of the -murder of Dorothy Carr, and fix his punishment at death.” - -Elliott Harding quietly left the scene, feeling already a lightening of -the intolerable load which had so long weighed upon him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -Mr. Carr, who had been slowly succumbing to his great grief, was ill -the closing day of the trial. Dragging heavily through an existence -that was not life, he was but a wraith of his former self. Waiting -patiently, submitting with lifted head to the law’s justice. When he -was told of the doom of Cooley, he seemed hardly to hear it, and he -made no comment. It seemed now as if little else of life remained -and yet occasional incoherent phrases showed the signs of some duty -neglected and weighing heavily on the wandering mind. - -One morning, Elliott, seeing the longing visibly reflected on the old -man’s countenance, asked: - -“What is it, father? Is there anything I can do?” And he laid his face -to the withered palm of the outstretched hand. The sick man suddenly -seemed to realize that his reason was abandoning him, and he made a -supreme effort to collect his ideas and frame them into coherent speech. - -“Help me!” he said piteously. Then turning his head toward the window -where he could see the grave so lately made for Dorothy, his worn face -quivered and the big, slow tears ran down his furrowed cheeks. - -“Is it something of her you would say?” Elliott inquired. - -But the aged lips made no answer. For a time Elliott sat beside him, -silent. Suddenly the old face lighted. Lifting up his sorrowful eyes, -he said: - -“It has come, Elliott--my will! I have left everything to you, and, -don’t forget Chloe.” - -Then once again, the look of blank abstraction spread over his features -and he sank into a state of collapse as if the effort to think had -exhausted his share of vitality. - -Elliott and his neighbors stood by and saw him grow feebler, his breath -fainter. The old and eternal Mother Nature was silently slipping her -pitying arms around her tired child. Presently the uncomplaining eyes -were to be dimmed and the lips silenced forever. And as the end came, -peacefully and quietly, Elliott forgot all--himself, his heartbreak, -his wrath, forgot everything in the realization of the peace, the rest -now possessing this long tired soul. - -The memory of the past swept over him. He recalled all that Dorothy had -been to her father from the time when she had first stretched out her -baby arms to him, all the little ways by which she had brought back his -youth and made his house home, and his heart soft again. - -Two days later, all that was mortal of Napoleon Carr lay prone and cold -in a new grave. He himself had chosen the spot between the two mounds, -over which the grass lay in long windrows above his wife and child. - -Chloe was faithful to the end and was there when death darkened the -eyes of her master. - -She was given the home she then lived in and ample provision for its -maintenance. - -The Carr homestead was closed and Elliott went again to live with his -uncle, Mr. Field. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -The day set by the court, upon which Ephriam Cooley was to pay the -penalty for the crime of which he had been adjudged guilty, was the -thirteenth of June. - -Long before that time, the colored population had been aroused to a -lively interest in their convicted brother. There was a movement on -foot to make a fight for his life. The negroes had gained the idea that -the evidence of the woman at whose house Cooley had been arrested, -and who could not be found to give evidence at the trial, would have -cleared him. It was now rumored that she had been located away up in -the East Kentucky mountains, where she had moved the year before. This -story flew like thistle-down in the wind. Negro petitions were got up -calling for mercy and commutation and were poured in upon the governor -from all parts of the state. - -Sometimes it was rumored that the governor would commute the sentence -to penal servitude for life. Then the rumor was contradicted, and so it -went on. The governor had an eye to his own reelection and it was the -current belief that he was not averse to doing that which might further -the ends of his own ambition. - -It was well on in June and up to this time the governor had arrived at -no decision, or if he had, had given no indication of it. - -Elliott was almost prostrate, the prey of a long drawn agony. This -effort to soften the sentence weighed upon his weak nerves so that the -phantom silence of his nights had been peopled by visions. His life -became one oppression and a terror, and rest a thing never to be his. -Again and again, amid the whirl of memory, he pressed the sad accusing -words, “Are you my country’s foe and therefore mine?” upon the inward -wound, tasting, cherishing the smart of them. - -He no longer had opinions: his opinions had become sympathies. - -There had come a day when, in his room alone, he took a pile of -manuscript from his desk and looked at it long and hard, then held it -to a blaze and watched it burn to a charred tissue on the hearthstone. -It was his book. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - -Tuesday, June the twenty-ninth, was an Eastwind day and it had nearly -ended when Elliott Harding met the sheriff and inquired: - -“Any news from the governor?” - -He shook his head as he answered: “And none likely to come.” Taking -out a silver watch he added: “The hanging is set for eleven o’clock -to-morrow morning. Umph! This is tough work.” - -“I shall breathe more freely to-morrow,” was Elliott’s comment, as he -passed on. - -A little further down he met John Holmes. - -“I was just going to your office,” said Holmes almost tenderly. - -Being near that place, they locked arms and went silently together. -When they were seated, Holmes broke the silence. - -“Has any reprieve come yet?” he said abruptly as a man plunges into a -critical subject. - -“No, I am glad to say!” and the lined face that lifted to the other was -worn, the eyes strained and bloodshot. - -“Holmes, I have been thinking of my old views. God knows I have had -time to think and cause to think! I am appreciating now the problem you -of the South could not solve.” His voice grew unsteady. - -“Harding, I am sorry for you. You have suffered greatly. It is useless -to attempt to convey in words what the South has long endured, but I -believe she is on the point of struggling from beneath the crushing -burden that weighs her down. A time will come when our southern -governors will order a special term of Superior Court to try speedily -a criminal and invariably fix the death penalty for the offense which -is largely responsible for lynching. How much graver, deeper, more -human now, must seem to you our tragedies and our defense. We would -indeed welcome a worthier mode or the day when there will be no such -tragedies.” - - * * * * * - -That night as the sheriff and his family sat in their lighted room, -a man outside kept patient tryst, every fiber of his being directly -concerned in the slightest movement or sound. - -As the night wore on and no one entered the door, his soul illumined -with hope and seemed loosening itself from pain and desire. - -Presently there was a sound, a sight that startled him. A messenger was -at the door holding a yellow slip. The sheriff came out rubbing his -eyes. - -“What is it?” he asked sleepily. - -“A reprieve! A reprieve!” - -Holding it to the lamp in the hall, the sheriff read: - -“Sheriff of Scott County, Georgetown, Ky.--Ephriam Cooley’s sentence -commuted to life imprisonment. Hurry prisoner to Frankfort. ----, -Governor.” - -The sheriff hastily pencilled an answer and sent the boy speeding back. - -“Hitch the horse!” he called to his man. - -“Oh my God!” In that supreme cry, hope quivered in its death throb. -Elliott Harding received the lance thrust of despair. He stood -defenseless: alone with Destiny. - -All was done quietly and swiftly. The sleeping town knew nothing of the -change. - -As the midnight train whistled in the distance, the sheriff with his -handcuffed prisoner stepped from behind his sweating horse onto the -empty platform. When the iron monster, like a great strong savior came -rushing in, the criminal looked as if he could have embraced it. It was -a thing of life to him. - -One or maybe two drowsy travelers shook themselves and scrambled -to the platform. The sheriff and his man lost no time in seating -themselves. The murderer was within a hair’s breadth of safety. The -engine was ready to start. Snorting, trembling, as if in frightened -pain, she moved off slowly, slowly. - -There was a sudden rush and speeding through the darkness; an unkempt -figure, running staggeringly as though in exhaustion, leaped to the -platform and pursued the moving train. A sudden flash, a sharp report, -and Ephriam Cooley fell back dead, shot through the heart. - -By the time the train had drawn back to the station, the platform was -deserted; only the shrouding mists of blue smoke remained. - - THE END. - - - - -=Neely’s Tourist Library.= - -=PRICE, -- TEN CENTS.= - -_Entered as second-class matter._ - - -Mr. F. Tennyson Neely presents a new library of unusual merit, -containing standard works published in a form that has never been -equaled. NEELY’S TOURIST LIBRARY has jumped into popularity from the -start among travelers and all readers of fiction, so that no shrewd -dealer need hesitate about making a heavy order and filling out a -standing order for each weekly issue, a list of which follows: - - =THE WHITE COMPANY.= By A. Conan Doyle. - =THE DEEMSTER.= By Hall Caine. - =A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS.= By Marie Corelli. - =TREASURE ISLAND.= By Robert L. Stevenson. - =THE SIGN OF THE FOUR.= By A. Conan Doyle. - =KIDNAPPED.= By Robert L. Stevenson. - =THE BONDMAN.= By Hall Caine. - =MICAH CLARK.= By A. Conan Doyle. - =SPORT ROYAL.= By Anthony Hope. - =THE MAN IN BLACK.= By Stanley J. Weyman. - =UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.= By Mrs. Stowe. - =BEYOND THE CITY.= By A. Conan Doyle. - - -A NEW ISSUE EVERY WEEK. - - - - -=Neely’s Library of Choice Literature.= - -=Paper,--Fifty Cents.= - - - =THE EMBASSY BALL.= By Virginia Rosalie Coxe. - =TRUE TO THEMSELVES.= By Alex. J. C. Skene, M.D., LL.D. - =THE RASCAL CLUB.= By Julius Chambers. Fully Illustrated by J. P. - Burns. - =ISIDRA, THE PATRIOT DAUGHTER OF MEXICO.= By Willis Steell. - =THE MILLS OF GOD.= By Helen Davies. Author of “Reveries of a - Spinster.” - =PETRONILLA, THE SISTER.= By Emma Homan Thayer. Fully Illustrated. - =URANIA.= By Camille Flammarion. Profusely Illustrated with half-tone - engravings. - =A GARRISON TANGLE.= Capt. Chas. King. - =FORT FRAYNE. By Capt. Chas. King. - =A SON OF MARS.= } - =A BAR SINISTER.= } - =A GODDESS OF AFRICA.= } =y St. George Rathborne, - =MASKED IN MYSTERY.= } Author of Dr. Jack. - =HER RESCUE FROM THE TURKS.= } - =A NEW ARISTOCRACY.= By Birch Arnold. - =MARJORY MOORE’S LOVERS.= By Adeline Sergeant. - =A BACHELOR OF PARIS.= J. W. Harding. Fully Illustrated by William - Hofaker. - =BILL NYE’S REMARKS.= 150 Illustrations. - - - - -=Neely’s Library of Choice Literature.= - -The following Copyrighted Novels, published at =50c.= per copy, are now -sold at =25c= each. - - =MISS DEVEREUX OF THE MARIQUITA.= By R. H. Savage. - =FACING THE FLAG.= By Jules Verne. - =HOW WOMEN LOVE.= By Max Nordau. - =IN THE OLD CHATEAU.= By Richard Henry Savage. - =SOME WOMEN AND A MAN.= By William J. Locke. - =A DAUGHTER OF JUDAS.= By Richard Henry Savage. - =THE LAND OF PROMISE.= By Paul Bourget. - =THE FLYING HALCYON.= By Richard Henry Savage. - =THE CHARLATAN.= By R. Buchanan and Henry Murray. - =THE PRINCESS OF ALASKA.= By Richard Henry Savage. - =THE ANARCHIST.= By Richard Henry Savage. - =A DAUGHTER OF THE KING.= By Alien. - =FOR LIFE AND LOVE.= By Richard Henry Savage. - =A MONK OF CRUTA.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. - =LIFE AND SERMONS OF DAVID SWING.= - =THE MASKED VENUS.= By Richard Henry Savage. - =THE FALLEN RACE.= By Austyn Granville. - =A YOUNG LADY TO MARRY, and other French Stories.= - =SWEET DANGER.= By Ella Wheeler Wilcox. - =THE SPIDER OF TRUXILLO.= By Richard Henry Savage. - =HAWAIIAN LIFE.= By Charles Warren Stoddard. - =AFTER MANY YEARS--Poems.= By R. H. Savage. - =IN THE DAY OF BATTLE.= By J. 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Clifford. - =WAS IT SUICIDE?= By Ella Wheeler Wilcox. - =CLAUDEA’S ISLAND.= By Esme Stuart. - =WEBSTER’S PRONOUNCING DICTIONARY.= - (Illustrated.) 350 Pages. - =THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MR. DERWENT.= - By Thomas Cobb. - =SACRIFICED LOVE.= By Alphonse Daudet. - =THE MAHARAJAH’S GUEST.= By Indian Exile. - =THE LAST OF THE VAN SLACKS.= - By Edward S. Van Zile. - =MARK TWAIN, HIS LIFE AND WORK.= - =THE MAJOR IN WASHINGTON.= - =SOCIAL ETIQUETTE.= By Emily S. Bouton. - - - - -=Neely’s Popular Library.= - -=Paper -- Twenty-five Cents.= - - =ODD FOLKS.= By Opie Read. - =A MOUNTAIN OF GOLD.= By Willis Steell. - =ONE OF EARTH’S DAUGHTERS.= Ellen Roberts. - =THE PASSING OF ALIX.= By Mrs. Marjorie Paul. - =LUNAR CAUSTIC.= By Charles H. Robinson. - =THE PALMETTO.= By F. S. Heffernan. - =IMOLA.= By F. S. Heffernan. - =UTOPIA.= By Frank Rosewater. - =BLACK FRIDAY.= By Thomas B. Connery. - =ALL THE DOG’S FAULT.= By Thos. B. Connery. - =THE MALACHITE CROSS.= By Frank Norton. - =A FASCINATING SINNER.= By Delta. - =HYPNOTISM.= By Jules Claretie. - =KERCHIEFS TO HUNT SOULS.= Amelia Fytche. - =THE FORTUNES OF MARGARET WELD.= - By S. M. H. G. - =A JOURNEY TO VENUS.= By G. W. Pope. - =PAOLA CORLETTI.= By Alice Howard Hilton. - =TWO STRANGE ADVENTURERS.= By Cornwallis. - =MY SPANISH SWEETHEART.= By F. A. Ober. - =THE CAPTAIN’S ROMANCE.= By Opie Read. - =THE ADOPTED DAUGHTER.= By Fawcett. - =TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS.= By Hughes. - =KIDNAPPED.= By R. L. Stevenson. - =MICAH CLARKE.= By A. Conan Doyle. - =THE SIGN OF THE FOUR.= By Doyle. - =SPORT ROYAL.= By Anthony Hope. - =FATHER STAFFORD.= By Anthony Hope. - =THE BONDMAN.= By Hall Caine. - =THE MINISTER’S WEAK POINT.= By Maclure. - =AT LOVE’S EXTREMES.= By Thompson. - =BY RIGHT, NOT LAW.= By R. H. Sherard. - =IN DARKEST ENGLAND.= By General Booth. - =PEOPLE’S REFERENCE BOOK.= - =MARTHA WASHINGTON COOK BOOK.= - =HEALTH AND BEAUTY. By Emily S. 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Cloth, $1.25. - - =CORNERSTONES OF CIVILIZATION.= Union College - Practical Lectures (Butterfield Course). $3.00. - - =WASHINGTON, OR THE REVOLUTION.= A drama, by - Ethan Allen. 2 vols. Cloth, $3.00; paper, $1.00. - - - - -Neely’s Latest Books. - - =AN ALTRUIST.= By OUIDA. Gilt top, $1.00. - =THUS RUNS THE WORLD AWAY.= AMELIA E. BARR. - Cloth, $1.25. - =WAS IT RIGHT TO FORGIVE?= AMELIA E. BARR. Cloth, - $1.25. - =A NEW STORY= by CAPT. CHAS. KING. Cloth, $1.25. - =THE EMBASSY BALL.= By VIRGINIA ROSALIE COXE. Cloth, - $1.25; paper, 50c. - =A MODERN PROMETHEUS.= By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM. - Illustrated by H. B. MATHEWS. Cloth, gilt top, 50c. - =SOUR SAINTS AND SWEET SINNERS.= By CARLOS MARTYN. - Cloth, gilt top, $1.00. - =SEVEN SMILES, AND A FEW FIBS.= By THOMAS J. VIVIAN, - with full-page illustrations by well-known artists. - Cloth, gilt top, 50c. - =DAVENPORT’S CARTOONS.= By HOMER DAVENPORT. - =THE RASCAL CLUB.= By JULIUS CHAMBERS. Fully illustrated - by J. P. Burns. Cloth, $1.25; paper, 50c. - =THE MILLS OF GOD.= By HELEN DAVIES, author of - “Reveries of a Spinster.” Cloth, $1.25; paper, 50c. - =AMONG THE DUNES.= By MRS. D. L. RHONE. Cloth, $1.25. - =THE AILMENT OF THE CENTURY.= MAX NORDAU. Cloth, $2. - =A SON OF MARS.= By ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE, author - of “Dr. Jack.” Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50c. - =PETRONILLA, THE SISTER.= By EMMA HOMAN THAYER. - Fully Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25; paper, 50c. - =SONGS OF THE WINGS.= MINNIE GILMORE. Cloth, $1.25. - =URANIA.= By CAMILLE FLAMMARION. Profusely Illustrated. - Cloth, $1.25; paper, 50c. - =A GUIDE TO PALMISTRY.= By MRS. ELIZA EASTER-HENDERSON. - Cloth. $1.00. - =TRUE TO THEMSELVES.= A Psychological Study. By - ALEX. J. C. SKENE, M.D., LL.D. Cloth, $1.25. - =ODD FOLKS.= By OPIE READ. Cloth, $1.00. - =LUNAR CAUSTIC.= By CHARLES H. ROBINSON. Paper, 25c. - =UTOPIA.= By FRANK ROSEWATER. Paper, 25c. - =BLACK FRIDAY.= By THOMAS B. CONNERY. Paper, 25c. - =ALL THE DOG’S FAULT.= BY THOS. B. CONNERY. Paper, 25c. - =THE MALACHITE CROSS.= By FRANK NORTON. Paper, 25c. - =ONE OF EARTH’S DAUGHTERS.= ELLEN ROBERTS. Paper, 25c. - =THE PASSING OF ALIX.= MRS. MARJORIE PAUL. Paper, 25c. - =A MOUNTAIN OF GOLD.= By WILLIS STEELL. Paper, 25c. - =ISIDRA.= By WILLIS STEELL. Paper, 50c. - - - - -Neely’s Prismatic Library - -Gilt Top,--Fifty Cents. - - “I KNOW OF NOTHING IN THE BOOK LINE THAT EQUALS NEELY’S PRISMATIC - LIBRARY FOR ELEGANCE AND CAREFUL SELECTION. IT SETS A PACE THAT OTHERS - WILL NOT EASILY EQUAL, AND NONE SURPASS.”--=E. A. ROBINSON.= - - =SEVEN SMILES, AND A FEW FIBS.= By Thomas J. Vivian, with full-page - illus. by well-known artists. - =A MODERN PROMETHEUS.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. Illustrated by H. B. - Mathews.= - =THE SHACKLES OF FATE.= By Max Nordau. - =SOAP BUBBLES.= By Max Nordau. - =A BACHELOR OF PARIS.= By John W. Harding. With over 50 illustrations - by William Hofaker. - =MONTRESOR.= By Loota. - =REVERIES OF A SPINSTER.= By Helen Davies. - =THE ART MELODIOUS.= By Louis Lombard. - =THE HONOR OF A PRINCESS.= F. Kimball Scribner. - =OBSERVATIONS OF A BACHELOR.= Louis Lombard. - =KINGS IN ADVERSITY.= By E. S. Van Zile. - =NOBLE BLOOD AND A WEST POINT PARALLEL.= By Captain King and Ernest Von - Wildenbruch. - =TRUMPETER FRED.= By Captain King. Illustrated. - =FATHER STAFFORD.= By Anthony Hope. - =THE KING IN YELLOW.= By R. W. Chambers. - =IN THE QUARTER.= By R. W. Chambers. - =A PROFESSIONAL LOVER.= By Gyp. - =BIJOU’S COURTSHIPS.= By Gyp. Translated by Katherine Berry di Zériga. - Illustrated by H. B. Axtell. - =A CONSPIRACY OF THE CARBONARI.= By Louise Muhlbach. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - -On page 34, Catherine has been changed to Catharine. - -On page 37, aple has been changed to able. - -On page 38, sierous has been changed to serious. - -On page 59, unexpceted has been changed to unexpected. - -On page 63, futherance has been changed to furtherance. - -On page 83, fellow ship has been changed to fellowship. - -On page 88, comanding has been changed to commanding. - -On page 124, dolicious has been changed to delicious. - -On page 184, a repetitive “the the” has been removed. - -On page 202, a repetitive “and and” has been removed. - -On page 205, dilligence has been changed to diligence. - -On page 225, thistledown has been changed to thistle-down. - -Minor silent changes have been made to regularize usage of punctuation. - -All other spelling, hyphenation and dialect have been retained as -typeset. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SMOKING FLAX *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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