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diff --git a/old/69920-0.txt b/old/69920-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 771aa63..0000000 --- a/old/69920-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5914 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Holly, by Ralph Henry Barbour - -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: Holly - The Romance of a Southern Girl - -Author: Ralph Henry Barbour - -Illustrator: Edwin F. Bayha - -Release Date: January 31, 2023 [eBook #69920] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOLLY *** - - - - - - HOLLY - - - - -[Illustration: HOLLY PLACED HER HAND IN HIS AND LEAPED LIGHTLY TO THE -GROUND] - - - - - [Illustration: title page] - - - - - HOLLY - - _The Romance of a Southern Girl_ - - - BY - RALPH HENRY BARBOUR - - AUTHOR OF “A MAID IN ARCADY,” “KITTY - OF THE ROSES,” “AN ORCHARD - PRINCESS,” ETC. - - - _With illustrations by_ - EDWIN F. BAYHA - - - [Illustration] - - - PHILADELPHIA & LONDON - J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - 1907 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1907 - BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY - - COPYRIGHT, 1907 - BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - - - Published October, 1907 - - - _Electrotyped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company - The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U. S. A._ - - - - - TO - JESSIE LATSHAW KING - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - HOLLY PLACED HER HAND IN HIS AND LEAPED LIGHTLY TO THE - GROUND _Frontispiece_ - - PRESENTLY THE NEW RENTAL AGREEMENT WAS SIGNED 144 - - THE MAJOR HELD THE LITTLE BUNCH OF LEAVES AND BERRIES OVER - HOLLY’S HEAD 217 - - “KEEP AWAY! YOU’VE KILLED HIM” 258 - - - - - HOLLY - - - - -I. - - -Holly’s eighteenth birthday was but a fortnight distant when the quiet -stream of her life, which since her father’s death six years before had -flowed placidly, with but few events to ripple its tranquil surface, -was suddenly disturbed.... - -To the child of twelve years death, because of its unfamiliarity -and mystery, is peculiarly terrible. At that age one has become too -wise to find comfort in the vague and beautiful explanations of -tearfully-smiling relatives――explanations in which Heaven is pictured -as a material region just out of sight beyond the zenith; too selfishly -engrossed with one’s own loneliness and terror to be pacified by the -contemplation of the radiant peace and beatitude attained by the -departed one in that ethereal and invisible suburb. And at twelve one -is as yet too lacking in wisdom to realize the beneficence of death. - -Thus it was that when Captain Lamar Wayne died at Waynewood, in his -fiftieth year, Holly, left quite alone in a suddenly empty world save -for her father’s sister, Miss India Wayne, grieved passionately and -rebelliously, giving way so abjectly to her sorrow that Aunt India, -fearing gravely for her health, summoned the family physician. - -[Illustration] - -“There is nothing physically wrong with her,” pronounced the Old -Doctor, “nothing that I can remedy with my poisons. You must get her -mind away from her sorrow, my dear Miss India. I would suggest that -you take her away for a time; give her new scenes; interest her in new -affairs. Meanwhile ... there is no harm....” The Old Doctor wrote a -prescription with his trembling hand ... “a simple tonic ... nothing -more.” - -So Aunt India and Holly went away. At first the thought of deserting -the new grave in the little burying-ground within sight of the house -moved Holly to a renewed madness of grief. But by the time Uncle -Randall had put their trunk and bags into the old carriage interest -in the journey had begun to assuage Holly’s sorrow. It was her first -journey into the world. Save for visits to neighboring plantations and -one memorable trip to Tallahassee while her father had served in the -State Legislature, she had never been away from Corunna. And now she -was actually going into another State! And not merely to Georgia, which -would have been a comparatively small event since the Georgia line ran -east and west only a bare half-dozen miles up the Valdosta road, but -away up to Kentucky, of which, since the Waynes had come from there in -the first part of the century, Holly had heard much all her life. - -As the carriage moved down the circling road Holly watched with -trembling lips the little brick-walled enclosure on the knoll. Then -came a sudden gush of tears and convulsive sobs, and when these had -passed they were under the live-oaks at the depot, and the train of -two cars and a rickety, asthmatic engine, which ran over the six-mile -branch to the main line, was posing importantly in front of the -weather-beaten station. - -Holly’s pulses stirred with excitement, and when, a quarter of an hour -later,――for Aunt India believed in being on time,――she kissed Uncle Ran -good-bye, her eyes were quite dry. - -That visit had lasted nearly three months, and for awhile Holly had -been surfeited with new sights and new experiences against which no -grief, no matter how poignant, could have been wholly proof. When, -on her return to Waynewood, she paid her first visit to her father’s -grave, the former ecstasy of grief was absent. In its place was a -tender, dim-eyed melancholy, something exaltedly sacred and almost -sweet, a sentiment to be treasured and nourished in reverent devotion. -And yet I think it was not so much the journey that accomplished this -end as it was a realization which came to her during the first month of -the visit. - -[Illustration] - -In her first attempts at comforting the child, and many times since, -Aunt India had reminded Holly that now that her father had reached -Heaven he and her mother were together once more, and that since they -had loved each other very dearly on earth they were beyond doubt very -happy in Paradise. Aunt India assured her that it was a beautiful -thought. But it had never impressed Holly as Miss India thought it -should. Possibly she was too self-absorbed in her sorrow to consider -it judicially. But one night she had a dream from which she awoke -murmuring happily in the darkness. She could not remember very clearly -what she had dreamed, although she strove hard to do so. But she knew -that it was a beautiful dream, a dream in which her father and her -mother,――the wonderful mother of whom she had no recollection,――had -appeared to her hand in hand and had spoken loving, comforting words. -For the first time she realized Aunt India’s meaning; realized how -very, very happy her father and mother must be together in Heaven, -and how silly and selfish she had been to wish him back. All in the -instant there, in the dim silence, the dull ache of loneliness which -had oppressed her for months disappeared. She no longer seemed alone; -somewhere,――near at hand,――was sympathy and love and heart-filling -comradeship. Holly lay for awhile very quiet and happy in the great -four-poster bed, and stared into the darkness with wide eyes that swam -in grateful tears. Then she fell into a sound, calm sleep. - -She did not tell Aunt India of her dream; not because there was any -lack of sympathy between them, but because to have shared it would have -robbed it of half its dearness. For a long, long time it was the most -precious of her possessions, and she hugged it to her and smiled over -it as a mother over her child. And so I think it was the dream that -accomplished what the Old Doctor could not,――the dream that brought, -as dreams so often do, Heaven very close to earth. Dreams are blessed -things, be they day-dreams or dreams of the night; and even the ugly -ones are beneficent, since at waking they make by contrast reality more -endurable. - -If Aunt India never learned the cause she was at least quick to note -the result. Holly’s thin little cheeks borrowed tints from the Duchess -roses in the garden, and Aunt India graciously gave the credit to -Kentucky air, even as she drew her white silk shawl more closely about -her slender shoulders and shivered in the unaccustomed chill of a -Kentucky autumn. - -Then followed six tranquil years in which Holly grew from a small, -long-legged, angular child to a very charming maiden of eighteen, -dainty with the fragrant daintiness of a southern rosebud; small of -stature, as her mother had been before her, yet possessed of a gracious -dignity that added mythical inches to her height; no longer angular but -gracefully symmetrical with the soft curves of womanhood; with a fair -skin like the inner petal of a La France rose; with eyes warmly, deeply -brown, darkened by large irises; a low, broad forehead under a wealth -of hair just failing of being black; a small, mobile mouth, with lips -as freshly red as the blossoms of the pomegranate tree in the corner -of the yard, and little firm hands and little arched feet as true to -beauty as the needle to the pole. God sometimes fashions a perfect -body, and when He does can any praise be too extravagant? - -For the rest, Holly Wayne at eighteen――or, to be exact, a fortnight -before――was perhaps as contradictory as most girls of her age. -Warm-hearted and tender, she could be tyrannical if she chose; -dignified at times, there were moments when she became a breath-taking -madcap of a girl,――moments of which Aunt India strongly but patiently -disapproved; affectionate and generous, she was capable of showing a -very pretty temper which, like mingled flash of lightning and roar of -thunder, was severe but brief; tractable, she was not pliant, and from -her father she had inherited settled convictions on certain subjects, -such for instance as Secession and Emancipation, and an accompanying -dash of contumacy for the protection of them. - -She was fond of books, and had read every sombre-covered volume of -the British Poets from fly-leaf to fly-leaf. She preferred poetry to -prose, but when the first was wanting she put up cheerfully with the -latter. The contents of her father’s modest library had been devoured -with a fine catholicity before she was sixteen. Recent books were few -at Corunna, and had Holly been asked to name her favorite volume of -fiction she would have been forced to divide the honor between certain -volumes of The Spectator, St. Elmo, and The Wide, Wide World. She was -intensely fond of being out of doors; even in her crawling days her -negro mammy had found it a difficult task to keep her within walls; and -so her reading had ever been _al fresco_. Her favorite place was under -the gnarled old fig-tree at the end of the porch, where, perched in -a comfortable crotch of trunk and branch, or asway in a hammock, she -spent many of her waking hours. When the weather kept her indoors, -she never thought of books at all. Those stood with her for filtered -sunlight, green-leaf shadows, and the perfume-laden breezes. - -Her education, begun lovingly and sternly by her father, had ended with -a four-years’ course at a neighboring Academy, supplying her with as -much knowledge as Captain Wayne would have considered proper for her. -He had held to old-fashioned ideas in such matters, and had considered -the ability to quote aptly from Pope or Dryden of more appropriate -value to a young woman than a knowledge of Herbert Spencer’s absurdities -or a bowing acquaintance with Differential Calculus. So Holly graduated -very proudly from the Academy, looking her sweetest in white muslin and -lavender ribbons, and was quite, quite satisfied with her erudition and -contentedly ignorant of many of the things that fit into that puzzle -which we are pleased to call Life. - -And now, in the first week of November in the year 1898, the tranquil -stream of her existence was about to be disturbed. Although she could -have no knowledge of it, as yet, Fate was already poising the stone -which, once dropped into that stream, was destined to cause disquieting -ripples, perplexing eddies, distracting swirls and, in the end, the -formation of a new channel. And even now the messenger of Fate was -limping along with the aid of his stout cane, coming nearer and nearer -down the road from the village under the shade of the water-oaks, a -limp and a tap for every beat of Holly’s unsuspecting heart. - - - - -II. - - -Holly sat on the back porch, her slippered feet on the topmost step -of the flight leading to the “bridge” and from thence to the yard. -She wore a simple white dress and dangled a blue-and-white-checked -sun-bonnet from the fingers of her right hand. Her left hand was very -pleasantly occupied, since its pink palm cradled Holly’s chin. Above -the chin Holly’s lips were softly parted, disclosing the tips of three -tiny white teeth; above the mouth, Holly’s eyes gazed abstractedly -away over the roofs of the buildings in the yard and the cabins behind -them, over the tops of the Le Conte pear-trees in the back lot, over -the fringe of pines beyond, to where, like a black speck, a buzzard -circled and dropped and circled again above a distant hill. I doubt if -Holly saw the buzzard. I doubt if she saw anything that you or I could -have seen from where she sat. I really don’t know what she did see, for -Holly was day-dreaming, an occupation to which she had become somewhat -addicted during the last few months. - -The mid-morning sunlight shone warmly on the back of the house. Across -the bridge, in the kitchen, Aunt Venus was moving slowly about in -the preparation of dinner, singing a revival hymn in a clear, sweet -falsetto: - - “Lord Gawd of Israel, - Lord Gawd of Israel, - Lord Gawd of Israel, - I’s gwan to meet you soon!” - -To the right, in front of the disused office, a half-naked morsel of -light brown humanity was seated in the dirt at the foot of the big -sycamore, crooning a funny little accompaniment to his mother’s song, -the while he munched happily at a baked sweet potato and played a -wonderful game with two spools and a chicken leg. Otherwise the yard -was empty of life save for the chickens and guineas and a white cat -asleep on the roof of the well-house. Save for Aunt Venus’s chant and -Young Tom’s crooning (Young Tom to distinguish him from his father), -the morning world was quite silent. The gulf breeze whispered in the -trees and scattered the petals of the late roses. A red-bird sang a -note from the edge of the grove and was still. Aunt Venus, fat and -forty, waddled to the kitchen door, cast a stern glance at Young Tom -and a softer one at Holly, and disappeared again, still singing: - - “Lord Gawd of Israel, - Lord Gawd of Israel, - Lord Gawd of Israel, - Wash all mah sins away!” - -Back of Holly the door stood wide open, and at the other end of the -broad, cool hall the front portal was no less hospitably placed. And so -it was that when the messenger of Fate limped and thumped his way up -the steps, crossed the front porch and paused in the hall, Holly heard -and leaped to her feet. - -“Is anyone at home in this house?” called the messenger. - -Holly sped to meet him. - -“Good-morning, Uncle Major!” - -Major Lucius Quintus Cass changed his cane to his left hand and shook -hands with Holly, drawing her to him and placing a resounding kiss on -one soft cheek. - -“The privilege of old age, my dear,” he said; “one of the few things -which reconcile me to gray hairs and rheumatism.” Still holding her -hand, he drew back, his head on one side and his mouth pursed into a -grimace of astonishment. “Dearie me,” he said ruefully, with a shake -of his head, “where’s it going to stop, Holly? Every time I see you I -find you’ve grown more radiant and lovely than before! ’Pears to me, my -dear, you ought to have some pity for us poor men. Gad, if I was twenty -years younger I’d be down on my knees this instant!” - -Holly laughed softly and then drew her face into an expression of -dejection. - -“That’s always the way,” she sighed. “All the real nice men are either -married or think they’re too old to marry. I reckon I’ll just die an -old maid, Uncle Major.” - -“Rather than allow it,” the Major replied, gallantly, “I’ll dye my hair -and marry you myself! But don’t you talk that way to me, young lady; I -know what’s going on in the world. They tell me the Marysville road’s -all worn out from the travel over it.” - -Holly tossed her head. - -“That’s only Cousin Julian,” she said. - -“Humph! ‘Only Cousin Julian,’ eh? Well, Cousin Julian’s a fine-looking -beau, my dear, and Doctor Thompson told me only last week that he’s -doing splendidly, learning to poison folks off real natural and saw -off their legs and arms so’s it’s a genuine pleasure to them. I reckon -that in about a year or so Cousin Julian will be thinking of getting -married. Eh? What say?” - -“He may for all of me,” laughed Holly. But her cheeks wore a little -deeper tint, and the Major chuckled. Then he became suddenly grave. - -“Is your Aunt at home?” he asked, in a low voice. - -“She’s up-stairs,” answered Holly. “I’ll tell her you’re here, sir.” - -“Just a moment,” said the Major, hurriedly. “I――oh, Lord!” He rubbed -his chin slowly, and looked at Holly in comical despair. “Holly, pity -the sorrows of a poor old man.” - -“What have you been doing, Uncle Major?” asked Holly, sternly. - -“Nothing, ’pon my word, my dear! That is――well, almost nothing. I -thought it was all for the best, but now――――” He stopped and shook -his head. Then he threw back his shoulders, surrendered his hat and -stick to the girl, and marched resolutely into the parlor. There he -turned, pointed upward and nodded his head silently. Holly, smiling but -perplexed, ran up-stairs. - -Left alone in the big, square, white-walled room, dim and still, the -Major unbuttoned his long frock coat and threw the lapels aside with a -gesture of bravado. But in another instant he was listening anxiously -to the confused murmur of voices from the floor above and plucking -nervously at the knees of his trousers. Presently a long-drawn sigh -floated onto the silence, and―― - -“Godamighty!” whispered the Major; “I wish I’d never done it!” - -The Major was short in stature and generous of build. Since the war, -when a Northern bullet had almost terminated the usefulness of his -right leg, he had been a partial cripple and the enforced quiescence -had resulted in a portliness quite out of proportion to his height. He -had a large round head, still well covered with silky iron-gray hair, -a jovial face lit by restless, kindly eyes of pale blue, a large, -flexible mouth, and an even more generous nose. The cheeks had become -somewhat pendulous of late years and reminded one of the convenient -sacks in which squirrels place nuts in temporary storage. The Major -shaved very closely over the whole expanse of face each morning and -by noon was tinged an unpleasant ghastly blue by the undiscouraged -bristles. - -Although Holly called him “Uncle” he was in reality no relation. He -had ever been, however, her father’s closest friend and on terms of -greater intimacy than many near relations. Excepting only Holly, none -had mourned more truly at Lamar Wayne’s death. The Captain had been the -Major’s senior by only one year, but seeing them together one would -have supposed the discrepancy in age much greater. The Major always -treated the Captain like an older brother, accepting his decisions with -unquestioning loyalty, and accorded him precedence in all things. It -was David and Jonathan over again. Even after the war, in which the -younger man had won higher promotion, the Major still considered the -Captain his superior officer. - -The Major pursued an uncertain law practice and had served for some -time as Circuit Judge. Among the negroes he was always “Major -Jedge.” That he had never been able to secure more than the simplest -comforts of life in the pursuit of his profession was largely due to -an unpractical habit of summoning the opposing parties in litigation -to his office and settling the case out of court. Add to this that -fully three-fourths of his clients were negroes, and that “Major -Jedge” was too soft-hearted to insist on payment for his services when -the client was poorer than he, and you can readily understand that -Major Lucius Quintus Cass’s fashion of wearing large patches on his -immaculately-shining boots was not altogether a matter of choice. - -[Illustration] - -The Major had not long to wait for an audience. As he adjusted his -trouser-legs for the third time the sound of soft footfalls on the bare -staircase reached him. He glanced apprehensively at the open door, -puffed his cheeks out in a mighty exhalation of breath, and arose -from his chair just as Miss India Wayne swept into the room. I say -swept advisedly, for in spite of the lady’s diminutive stature she was -incapable of entering a room in any other manner. Where other women -walked, Miss India swept; where others bowed, Miss India curtseyed; -where others sat down, Miss India subsided. Hers were the manners and -graces of a half-century ago. She was fifty-four years old, but many -of those years had passed over her very lightly. Small, perfectly -proportioned, with a delicate oval face surmounted by light brown hair, -untouched as yet by frost and worn in a braided coronet, attired in a -pale lavender gown of many ruffles, she was for all the world like a -little Chelsea figurine. She smiled upon the Major a trifle anxiously -as she shook hands and bowed graciously to his compliments. Then -seating herself erectly on the sofa――for Miss India never lolled――she -folded her hands in her lap and looked calmly expectant at the visitor. -As the visitor exhibited no present intention of broaching the subject -of his visit she took command of the situation, just as she was -capable of and accustomed to taking command of most situations. - -“Holly has begged me not to be hard on you, Major,” she said, in her -sweet, still youthful voice. “Pray what have you been doing now? You -are not here, I trust, to plead guilty to another case of reprehensible -philanthropy?” - -“No, Miss Indy, I assure you that you have absolutely reformed me, -ma’am.” - -Miss India smiled in polite incredulity, tapping one slender hand upon -the other as she might in the old days at the White Sulphur have tapped -him playfully, yet quite decorously, with her folded fan. The Major -chose not to observe the incredulity and continued: - -“The fact is, my dear Miss Indy, that I have come on a matter of -more――ah――importance. You will recollect――pardon me, pray, if I recall -unpleasant memories to mind――you will recollect that when your brother -died it was found that he had unfortunately left very little behind him -in the way of worldly wealth. He passed onward, madam, rich in the -love and respect of the community, but poor in earthly possessions.” - -The Major paused and rubbed his bristly chin agitatedly. Miss India -bowed silently. - -“As his executor,” continued the Major, “it was my unpleasant duty -to offer this magnificent estate for sale. It was purchased, as you -will recollect, by Judge Linderman, of Georgia, a friend of your -brother’s――――” - -“Pardon me, Major; an acquaintance.” - -“Madam, all those so fortunate as to become acquainted with Captain -Lamar Wayne were his friends.” - -Miss India bowed again and waived the point. - -“Judge Linderman, as he informed me at the time of the purchase, -bought the property as a speculation. He was the owner of much real -estate throughout the South. At his most urgent request you consented -to continue your residence at Waynewood, paying him rent for the -property.” - -“But nevertheless,” observed Miss India, a trifle bitterly, “being to a -large extent an object of his charity. The sum paid as rent is absurd.” - -“Nominal, madam, I grant you,” returned the Major. “Had our means -allowed we should have insisted on paying more. But you are unjust to -yourself when you speak of charity. As I pointed out――or, rather, as -Judge Linderman pointed out to me, had you moved from Waynewood he -would have been required to install a care-taker, which would have cost -him several dollars a month, whereas under the arrangement made he drew -a small but steady interest from the investment. I now come, my dear -Miss Indy, to certain facts which are――with which you are, I think, -unacquainted. That that is so is my fault, if fault there is. Believe -me, I accept all responsibility in the matter and am prepared to bear -your reproaches without a murmur, knowing that I have acted for what I -have believed to be the best.” - -Miss India’s calm face showed a trace of agitation and her crossed -hands trembled a little. - -The Major paused as though deliberating. - -“Pray continue, Major,” she said. “Whatever you have done has been -done, I am certain, from motives of true friendship.” - -The Major bowed gratefully. - -“I thank you, madam. To resume, about four years ago Judge Linderman -became bankrupt through speculation in cotton. That, I believe, -you already knew. What you did not know was that in meeting his -responsibilities he was obliged to part with all his real estate -holdings, Waynewood amongst them.” - -The Major paused, expectantly, but the only comment from his audience, -if comment it might be called, was a quivering sigh of apprehension -which sent the Major quickly on with his story. - -“Waynewood fell into the hands of a Mr. Gerald Potter, of New York, a -broker, who――――” - -“A Northerner!” cried Miss India. - -“A Northerner, my dear lady,” granted the Major, avoiding the lady’s -horrified countenance, “but, as I have been creditably informed, a -thorough gentleman and a representative of one of the foremost New York -families.” - -“A gentleman!” echoed Miss India, scornfully. “A Northern gentleman! -And so I am to understand that for four years I and my niece have been -subsisting on the charity of a Northerner! Is that what you have come -to inform me, Major Cass?” - -“The former arrangement was allowed to continue,” answered the Major, -evenly, “being quite satisfactory to the new owner of the property. I -regret, if you will pardon me, the use of the word charity, Miss India.” - -“You may regret it to your soul’s content, Major Cass,” replied Miss -India, with acerbity. “The fact remains――the horrible, dishonoring -fact! I consider your course almost――and I had never thought to use -the word to you, sir――insulting!” - -“It is indeed a harsh word, madam,” replied the Major, gently and -sorrowfully. “I realize that I have been ill-advised in keeping -the truth from you, but in a calmer moment you will, I am certain, -exonerate me from all intentions unworthy of my love for your dead -brother and of my respect for you.” There was a suggestive tremble in -the Major’s voice. - -Miss India dropped her eyes to the hands which were writhing agitatedly -in her lap. Then: - -“You are right, my dear friend,” she said, softly. “I was too hasty. -You will forgive me, will you not? But――this news of yours――is so -unexpected, so astounding――――!” - -“Pray say no more!” interposed the Major, warmly. “I quite understand -your agitation. And since the subject is unpleasant to you I will -conclude my explanation as quickly as possible.” - -“There is more?” asked Miss India, anxiously. - -“A little. Mr. Potter kept the property some three years and then――I -learned these facts but a few hours since――then became involved in -financial troubles and――pardon me――committed suicide. He was found at -his desk in his office something over a year ago with a bullet in his -brain.” - -“Horrible!” ejaculated Miss India, but――and may I in turn be pardoned -if I do the lady an injustice――there was something in her tone -suggesting satisfaction with the manner in which a just Providence had -dealt with a Northerner so presumptuous as to dishonor Waynewood with -his ownership. “And now?” she asked. - -“This morning I received a letter from a gentleman signing himself -Robert Winthrop, a business partner of the late unfortunate owner of -the property. In the letter he informs me that after arranging the -firm’s affairs he finds himself in possession of Waynewood and is -coming here to look it over and, if it is in condition to allow of it, -to spend some months here. He writes――let me see; I have his letter -here. Ah, yes. H’m: - - “‘My health went back on me after I had got affairs fixed up, - and I have been dandling my heels about a sanitarium for three - months. Now the physician advises quiet and a change of scene, - and it occurs to me that I may find both in your town. So I am - leaving almost at once for Florida. Naturally, I wish to see my - new possessions, and if the house is habitable I shall occupy - it for three or four months. When I arrive I shall take the - liberty of calling on you and asking your assistance in the - matter.’” - -The Major folded the letter and returned it to the cavernous pocket of -his coat. - -“I gather that he is――ah――uninformed of the present arrangement,” he -observed. - -“That, I think, is of slight importance,” returned Miss India, “since -by the time he arrives the house will be quite at his disposal.” - -“You mean that you intend to move out?” asked the Major, anxiously. - -“Most certainly! Do you think that I――that either Holly or I――would -continue to remain under this roof a moment longer than necessary now -that we know it belongs to a――a Northerner?” - -“But he writes――he expresses himself like a gentleman, my dear lady, -and I feel certain that he would be only too proud to have you remain -here――――” - -“I have never yet seen a Northern gentleman, Major,” replied Miss -India, contemptuously, “and until I do I refuse to believe in the -existence of such an anomaly.” - -The Major raised his hands in a gesture of helpless protestation. - -“Madam, I had the honor of fighting the Northerners, and I assure you -that many of them are gentlemen. Their ways are not ours, I grant you, -nor are their manners, but――――” - -“That is a subject upon which, I recollect, you and my brother were -never able to agree.” - -The Major nodded ruefully. The momentary silence was broken at last by -Miss India. - -“I do not pretend to pit my imperfect knowledge against yours, Major. -There may be Northerners who have gentlemanly instincts. That, as may -be, I refuse to be beholden to one of them. They were our enemies and -they are still _my_ enemies. They killed my brother John; they brought -ruin to our land.” - -“The killing, madam, was not all on their side, I take satisfaction in -recalling. And if they brought distress to the South they have since -very nobly assisted us to restore it.” - -“My brother has said many times,” replied the lady, “that he might in -time forgive the North for knocking us down but that he could never -forgive it for helping us up. You have heard him say that, Major?” - -“I have, my dear Miss India, I have. And yet I venture to say that had -the Lord spared Lamar for another twenty years he would have modified -his convictions.” - -“Never,” said Miss India, sternly; “never!” - -“You may be right, my dear lady, but there was something else I have -often heard him say.” - -“And pray what is that?” - -“A couplet of Mr. Pope’s, madam: - - “‘Good nature and good sense must ever join; - To err is human; to forgive, divine.’” - -“I reckon, however,” answered the lady, dryly, “that you never heard -him connect that sentiment with the Yankees.” - -The Major chuckled. - -“Deftly countered, madam!” he said. And then, taking advantage of the -little smile of gratification which he saw: “But this is a subject -which you and I, Miss India, can no more agree upon than could your -brother and myself. Let us pass it by. But grant me this favor. Remain -at Waynewood until this Mr. Winthrop arrives. See him before you judge -him, madam. Remember that if what he writes gives a fair exposition of -the case, he is little better than an invalid and so must find sympathy -in every woman’s heart. There is time enough to go, if go you must, -afterwards. It is scarcely likely that Mr. Winthrop could find better -tenants. And no more likely that you and Holly could find so pleasant a -home. Do this, ma’am.” - -And Miss India surrendered; not at once, you must know, but after a -stubborn defence, and then only when mutineers from her own lines made -common cause with the enemy. Before the allied forces of the Major’s -arguments and her own womanly sympathy she was forced to capitulate. -And so when a few moments later Holly, after a sharp skirmish of her -own in which she had been decisively beaten by Curiosity, appeared -at the door, she found Aunt India and the Major amicably discussing -village affairs. - - - - -III. - - -Robert Winthrop, laden with bag, overcoat and umbrella, left the -sleeping-car in which he had spent most of the last eighteen hours and -crossed the narrow platform of the junction to the train which was to -convey him the last stage of his journey. It was almost three o’clock -in the afternoon――for the Florida Limited, according to custom, had -been two hours late――and Winthrop was both jaded and dirty; and I might -add that, since this was his first experience with Southern travel, he -was also somewhat out of patience. - -Choosing the least soiled of the broken-springed, red-velveted seats -in the white compartment of the single passenger car, he set his bag -down and sank weariedly back. Through the small window beside him he -saw the Limited take up its jolting progress once more, and watched -the station-agent deposit his trunk in the baggage-car ahead, which, -with the single passenger-coach, comprised the Corunna train. Then -followed five minutes during which nothing happened. Winthrop sighed -resignedly and strove to find interest in the view. But there was -little to see from where he sat; a corner of the station, a section of -platform adorned with a few bales of cotton, a crate of live chickens, -and a bag of raw peanuts, a glimpse of the forest which crept down -to the very edge of the track, a wide expanse of cloudless blue sky. -Through the open door and windows, borne on the lazy sun-warmed air, -came the gentle wheezing of the engine ahead, the sudden discordant -chatter of a bluejay, and the murmurous voices of two negro women in -the other compartment. There was no hint of Winter in the air, although -November was almost a week old; instead, it was warm, languorous, -scented with the odors of the forest and tinged at times with the -pleasantly acrid smell of burning pitch-pine from the engine. It -was strangely soft, that air, soft and soothing to tired nerves, and -Winthrop felt its influence and sighed. But this time the sigh was not -one of resignation; rather of surrender. He stretched his legs as well -as he might in the narrow space afforded them, leaned his head back and -closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized until this moment how tired he was! -The engine sobbed and wheezed and the negroes beyond the closed door -murmured on. - -“Your ticket, sir, if you please.” - -Winthrop opened his eyes and blinked. The train was swaying along -between green, sunlit forest walls, and at his side the conductor was -waiting with good-humored patience. Winthrop yielded the last scrap of -his green strip and sat up. Suddenly the wood fell behind on either -side, giving place to wide fields which rolled back from the railroad -to disappear over tiny hills. They were fertile, promising-looking -fields, chocolate-hued, covered with sere, brown cotton-plants to which -here and there tufts of white still clung. Rail fences zigzagged -between them, and fire-blackened pine stumps marred their neatness. -At intervals the engine emitted a doleful screech and a narrow road -crossed the track to amble undecidedly away between the fields. At -such moments Winthrop caught glimpses of an occasional log cabin with -its tipsy, clay-chinked chimney and its invariable congress of lean -chickens and leaner dogs. Now and then a commotion along the track drew -his attention to a scurrying, squealing drove of pigs racing out of -danger. Then for a time the woods closed in again, and presently the -train slowed down before a small station. Winthrop reached tentatively -toward his bag, but at that instant the sign came into sight, “Cowper,” -he read, and settled back again. - -[Illustration] - -Apparently none boarded the train and none got off, and presently the -journey began once more. The conductor entered, glanced at Winthrop, -decided that he didn’t look communicative and so sat himself down in -the corner and leisurely bit the corner off a new plug of tobacco. - -The fields came into sight again, and once a comfortable-looking -residence gazed placidly down at the passing train from the crest of -a nearby hill. But Winthrop saw without seeing. His thoughts were -reviewing once more the chain of circumstances which had led link by -link to the present moment. His thoughts went no further back than -that painful morning nearly two years before when he had discovered -Gerald Potter huddled over his desk, a revolver beside him on the -floor, and his face horrible with the stains of blood and of ink from -the overturned ink-stand. They had been friends ever since college -days, Gerald and he, and the shock had never quite left him. During the -subsequent work of disentangling the affairs of the firm the thing -haunted him like a nightmare, and when the last obligation had been -discharged, Winthrop’s own small fortune going with the rest, he had -broken down completely. Nervous prostration, the physician called it. -Looking back at it now Winthrop had a better name for it, and that -was, Hell. There had been moments when he feared he would die, and -interminable nights when he feared he wouldn’t, when he had cried like -a baby and begged to be put out of misery. There had been two months -of that, and then they had bundled him off to a sanitarium in the -Connecticut hills. There he, who a few months before had been a strong, -capable man of thirty-eight, found himself a weak, helpless, emaciated -thing with no will of his own, a mere sleeping and waking automaton, -more interested in watching the purple veins on the backs of his thin -hands than aught else in his limited world. At times he could have wept -weakly from self-pity. - -But that, too, had passed. One sparkling September morning he lay -stretched at length in a long chair on the uncovered veranda, a flood -of inspiriting sunlight upon him, and a little breeze, brisk with the -cool zest of Autumn, stirring his hair. And he had looked up from the -white and purple hands and had seen a new world of green and gold and -blue spread before him at his feet, a twelve-mile panorama of Nature’s -finest work retouched and varnished overnight. He had feasted his eyes -upon it and felt a glad stirring at his heart. And that day had marked -the beginning of a new stage of recovery; he had asked, “How long?” - -The last week in October had seen his release. He had returned to his -long-vacant apartment in New York fully determined to start at once -the work of rebuilding his fallen fortunes. But his physician had -interposed. “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said, “and the rest is -in your own hands. Get away from New York; it won’t supply what you -need. Get into the country somewhere, away from cities and tickers. -Hunt, fish, spend your time out of doors. There’s nothing organically -wrong with that heart of yours, but it’s pretty tired yet; nurse it -awhile.” - -“The programme sounds attractive,” Winthrop had replied, smilingly, -“but it’s expensive. Practically I am penniless. Give me a year to -gather the threads up again and get things a-going once more, and I’ll -take your medicine gladly.” - -The physician had shrugged his shoulders with a grim smile. - -“I have never heard,” he replied, “that the hunting or fishing was -especially good in the next world.” - -“What do you mean?” asked Winthrop, frowning. - -“Just this, sir. You say you can’t afford to take a vacation. I say you -can’t afford not to take it. I’ve lived a good deal longer than you and -I give you my word I never saw a poor man who wasn’t a whole lot better -off than any dead one of my acquaintance. I don’t want to frighten -you, but I tell you frankly that if you stay here and buckle down to -rebuilding your business you’ll be a damned poor risk for any insurance -company inside of two weeks. It’s better to live poor than to die rich. -Take your choice.” - -Winthrop had taken it. After all, poverty is comparative, and he -realized that he was still as well off as many a clerk who was -contentedly keeping a family on his paltry twenty or thirty dollars -a week. He sub-rented his apartment, paid what bills he owed out of -the small balance standing to his name at the bank, and considered -the question of destination. It was then that he had remembered the -piece of property in Florida which he had taken over for the firm and -which, having been the least desirable of the assets, had escaped the -creditors. He went to the telephone and called up the physician. - -“How would Florida do?” he had asked. “Good place to play invalid, -isn’t it?” - -“I don’t care where you go,” was the response, “so long as there’s pure -air and sunshine there, and as long as you give your whole attention -to mending yourself.” - -He had never been in Florida, but it appealed to him and he believed -that, since he must live economically, there could be no better place; -at least there would be no rent to pay. So he had written to Major -Cass, whose name he had come across in looking over his partner’s -papers, and had started South on the heels of his letter. The trip -had been a hard one for him, but now the soft, fragrant air that blew -against his face through the open car window was already soothing him -with its caressing touch and whispering fair promises of strengthening -days. A long blast of the whistle moved the conductor to a return of -animation and Winthrop awoke from his thoughts. The train was slowing -down with a grinding of hand-brakes. Through the window he caught -glimpses of gardens and houses and finally of a broad, tree-lined -street marching straight away from the railroad up a sloping hill to -a gray stone building with a wooden cupola which seemed to block its -path. Then the station threw its shadow across him and the train, with -many jerks and much rattling of coupling, came to a stop. - -[Illustration] - -“Corunna,” drawled the conductor. - -Outside, on the platform which ran in front of the station on a level -with the car floors, Winthrop looked about him with mingled amusement -and surprise. In most places, he thought, the arrival of the daily -train was an event of sufficient importance to people the station -platform with spectators. But here he counted just three persons -beside himself and the train crew. These were the two negresses who -had travelled with him and the station agent. There was no carriage in -sight; not even a dray for his trunk. He applied to the agent. - -“Take that street over yonder,” said the agent, “and it’ll fetch you -right square to the Major’s office, sir. I’ll look after your bag until -you send for it. You tell the nigger to ask me for it, sir.” - -[Illustration] - -So Winthrop yielded the bag, coat and umbrella and started forth. The -station and the adjoining freight-shed stood, neutral-hued, under the -wide-spreading branches of several magnificent live-oaks, in one of -which, hidden somewhere in the thick greenery, a thrush was singing. -This sound, with that of the panting of the tired engine, alone stirred -the somnolent silence of mid-afternoon. A road, deep with white sand, -ambled away beneath the trees in the direction of the wide street which -Winthrop had seen from the car and to which he had been directed. It -proved to be a well-kept thoroughfare lined with oaks and bordered -by pleasant gardens in front of comfortable, always picturesque and -sometimes handsome houses. The sidewalks were high above the street, -and gullies of red clay, washed deep by the heavy rains, divided the -two. In front of the gates little bridges crossed the gullies. The -gardens were still aflame with late flowers and the scent of roses was -over all. Winthrop walked slowly, his senses alert and enravished. -He drew in deep breaths of the fragrant air and sighed for very -contentment. - -“Heavens,” he said under his breath, “the place is just one big rest -cure! If I can’t get fixed up here I might as well give up trying. I -wonder,” he added a moment later, “if every one is asleep.” - -There was not a soul in sight up the length of the street, but from one -of the houses came the sound of a piano and, as he glanced toward its -embowered porch, he thought he caught the white of a woman’s gown. - -“Someone’s awake, anyhow,” he thought. “Maybe she’s a victim of -insomnia.” - -The street came to an end in a wide space surrounded by one- and -two-story stores and occupied in the centre by a stone building which -he surmised to be the court-house. He bore to the right, his eyes -searching the buildings for the shingle of Major Cass. A few teams -were standing in front of the town hitching-rails, and perhaps a dozen -persons, mostly negroes, were in view. He had decided to appeal for -information when he caught sight of a modest sign on a corner building -across the square. “L. Q. Cass, Counsellor at Law,” he read. The -building was a two-story affair of crumbling red brick. The lower part -was occupied by a general merchandise store, and the upper by offices. -A flight of wooden steps led from the sidewalk along the outside of -the building to the second floor. Winthrop ascended, entered an open -door, and knocked at the first portal. But there was no reply to his -demands, and, as the other rooms in sight were evidently untenanted, he -returned to the street and addressed himself to a youth who sat on an -empty box under the wooden awning of the store below. The youth was in -his shirt-sleeves and was eating sugar-cane, but at Winthrop’s greeting -he rose to his feet, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and -answered courteously: - -“Waynewood is about three-quarters of a mile, sir,” he replied to the -stranger’s inquiry. “Right down this street, sir, until you cross the -bridge over the branch. Then it’s the first place.” - -He was evidently very curious about the questioner, but strove politely -to restrain that curiosity until the other had moved away along the -street. - -The street upon which Winthrop now found himself ran at right angles -with that up which he had proceeded from the station. Like that, it was -shaded from side to side by water-oaks and bordered by gardens. But -the gardens were larger, less flourishing, and the houses behind them -smaller and less tidy. He concluded that this was an older part of the -village. Several carriages passed him, and once he paused in the shade -to watch the slow approach and disappearance of a creaking two-wheeled -cart, presided over by a white-haired old negro and drawn by a pair -of ruminative oxen. It was in sight quite five minutes, during which -time Winthrop leaned against the sturdy bole of an oak and marvelled -smilingly. - -[Illustration] - -“And in New York,” he said to himself, “we swear because it takes us -twenty minutes to get to Wall Street on the elevated!” - -He went on, glad of the rest, passing from sunlight to shadow along the -uneven sidewalk and finally crossing the bridge, a tiny affair over a -shallow stream of limpid water which trickled musically over its bed -of white sand. Beyond the bridge the sidewalk ceased and he went on -for a little distance over a red clay road, rutted by wheels and baked -hard by the sun. Then a picket fence which showed evidence of having -once been whitewashed met him and he felt a sudden stirring within him. -This was Waynewood, doubtless, and it belonged to him. The thought was -somehow a very pleasant one. He wondered why. He had possessed far -more valuable real estate in his time but he couldn’t recollect that he -had ever thrilled before at the thought of ownership. - -[Illustration] - -“Oh, there’s magic in this ridiculous air,” he told himself whimsically. -“Even a toad would look romantic here, I dare say. I wonder if there is -a gate to my domain.” - -Behind the fence along which he made his way was an impenetrable mass -of shrubbery and trees. Of what was beyond, there was no telling. But -presently the gate was before him, sagging wide open on its rusted -hinges. From it a straight path, narrow and shadowy, proceeded for some -distance, crossed a blur of sunlight and continued to where a gleam of -white seemed to indicate a building. The path was set between solid -rows of oleander bushes whose lanceolate leaves whispered murmurously -to Winthrop as he trod the firm, moss-edged path. - -The blur of sunlight proved to be a break in the path where a driveway -angled across it, curving on toward the house and backward toward -the road where, as Winthrop later discovered, it emerged through a -gate beyond the one by which he had entered. He crossed the drive and -plunged again into the gloom of the oleander path. But his journey was -almost over, for a moment later the sentinel bushes dropped away from -beside him and he found himself at the foot of a flower garden, across -whose blossom-flecked width a white-pillared, double-galleried old -house stared at him in dignified calm. The porches were untenanted and -the wide-open door showed an empty hall. To reach that door Winthrop -had to make a half circuit of the garden, for directly in front of -him a great round bed of roses and box barred his way. In the middle -of the bed a stained marble cupid twined garlands of roses about his -naked body. Winthrop followed the path to the right and circled his -way to the drive and the steps, the pleasure of possession kindling -in his heart. With his foot on the lowest step he paused and glanced -about him. It was charming! Find his health here? Oh, beyond a doubt -he would. Ponce de Leon had searched in this part of the world for the -Fountain of Youth. Who knew but that he, Robert Winthrop, might not -find it here, hidden away in this fragrant, shaded jungle? And just -then his wandering glance fell on a sprawling fig-tree at the end of -the porch, at a white figure perched in its branches, at a girl’s -fresh young face looking across at him with frank and smiling curiosity. - -Winthrop took off his hat and moved toward the fig-tree. - - - - -IV. - - -The Major had accomplished his errand and had taken his departure, -accompanied down the oleander path as far as the gate by Holly. He -was very well satisfied with his measure of success. Miss India had -consented to remain at Waynewood until the arrival of the new owner, -and if the new owner proved to be the kind of man the Major hoped him -to be, things would work out quite satisfactory. Of course a good deal -depended on Robert Winthrop’s being as much of an invalid as the Major -had pictured him to Miss India. Let him appear on the scene exhibiting -a sound body and rugged health and all the Major’s plans would be -upset; Miss India’s sympathy would vanish on the instant, and Waynewood -would be promptly abandoned to the enemy. - -The Major’s affection for Miss India and Holly was deep and sincere, -and the idea of their leaving Waynewood was intolerable to him. The -thing mustn’t be, and he believed he could prevent it. Winthrop, on -arrival, would of course call upon him at once. Then he would point -out to him the advantage of retaining such admirable tenants, acquaint -him with the terms of occupancy, and prevail upon him to renew the -lease, which had expired some months before. It was not likely that -Winthrop would remain in Corunna more than three months at the most, -and during his stay he could pay Miss India for his board. Yes, the -Major had schemed it all out between the moment of receiving that -disquieting letter and the moment of his arrival at Waynewood. And -his schemes looked beyond the present crisis. In another year or so -Julian Wayne, Holly’s second cousin, would have finished his term with -Doctor Thompson at Marysville and would be ready to begin practice -for himself, settle down and marry Holly. Why shouldn’t Julian buy -Waynewood? To be sure, he possessed very little capital, but it was -not likely that the present owner of Waynewood would demand a large -price for the property. There could be a mortgage, and Julian was -certain to make a success of his profession. In this way Waynewood -would remain with the Waynes and Miss India and Holly could live their -lives out in the place that had always been home to them. So plotted -the Major, while Fate, outwardly inscrutable, doubtless chuckled in her -sleeve. - -[Illustration] - -At the gate the Major had shaken hands with Holly and made a request. - -“My dear,” he had said, “when you return to the house your Aunt will -have something to tell you. Be guided by her. Remember that there are -two sides to every question and that――ah――time alters all things.” - -“But, Uncle Major, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Holly had -declared, laughing. - -“I know you don’t, my dear; I know you don’t. And I haven’t time to -tell you.” He had drawn his big silver watch from his vest and glanced -at it apprehensively. “I promised to be at my office an hour ago. I -really must hurry back. Good-bye, my dear.” - -“Good-bye,” Holly had answered. “But I think you’re a most provoking, -horrid old Uncle Major.” - -But if the Major had feared mutiny on the part of Holly he might -have spared himself the uneasiness. Holly had heard of the impending -event from Aunt India at the dinner table with relish. Of course it -was disgusting to learn that Waynewood was owned by a Northerner, but -doubtless that was an injustice of Fate which would be remedied in -good time. The exciting thing was that they were to have a visitor, a -stranger, someone from that fearsomely interesting and, if reports were -to be credited, delightfully wicked place called New York; someone who -could talk to her of other matters than the prospects of securing the -new railroad. - -“Auntie, is he married?” she had asked, suddenly. - -“My dear Holly, what has that to do with it?” - -“Well, you see,” Holly had responded, demurely, “I’m not married -myself, and when you put two people together who are not married, why, -something may happen.” - -“Holly!” protested Miss India, in horror. - -“Oh, I was only in fun,” said Holly, with a laugh. “Do you reckon, -Auntie dear, that I’d marry a Northerner?” - -“I should certainly trust not,” replied Miss India, severely. - -“Not if he had millions and millions of money and whole bushels of -diamonds,” answered Holly, cheerfully. “But is he married, Auntie?” - -“I’m sure I can’t say. The Major believes him to be a man of middle -age, possibly fifty years old, and so it is quite likely that he has a -wife.” - -“And he is not bringing her with him?” - -“He said nothing of it in his letter, my dear.” - -“Then I think she’s a very funny kind of a wife,” replied Holly, with -conviction. “If he is an invalid, I don’t see why she lets him come -away down here all alone. I wouldn’t if I were she. I’d be afraid.” - -“I don’t reckon he’s as much of an invalid as all that.” - -“Oh, I wasn’t thinking about his health then,” answered Holly. “I’d be -afraid he’d meet someone he liked better than me and I wouldn’t see him -again.” - -“Holly, where do you get such deplorable notions?” asked her Aunt -severely. “It must be the books you read. You read altogether too much. -At your age, my dear, I assure you I――――” - -“I shall be eighteen in just twelve days,” interrupted Holly. “And -eighteen is grown-up. Besides, you know very well that wives do lose -their husbands sometimes. There was Cousin Maybird Fairleigh――――” - -“I decline to discuss such vulgar subjects,” said Miss India, -decisively. “Under the circumstances I think it just as well to forget -the relationship, which is of the very slightest, my dear.” - -“But it wasn’t Cousin Maybird’s fault,” protested Holly. “She didn’t -want to lose him, Aunt India. He was a very nice husband; very handsome -and distinguished, you know. It was all the fault of that other woman, -the one he married after the divorce.” - -“Holly!” - -“Yes?” - -“We will drop the subject, if you please.” - -“Yes, Auntie.” - -Holly smiled at her plate. Presently: - -“When is this Mr. Winthrop coming?” she asked. - -“He didn’t announce the exact date of arrival,” replied Miss India. -“But probably within a day or two. I have ordered Phœbe to prepare the -West Chamber for him. He will, of course, require a warm room and a -good bed.” - -“But, Auntie, the carpet is so awful in the West Room,” deplored Holly. - -“That is his affair,” replied Aunt India, serenely, as she arose from -the table. “It is his carpet.” - -Holly looked surprised, then startled. - -“Do you mean that everything here belongs to him?” she asked, -incredulously. “The furniture and pictures and books and――and -everything?” - -“Waynewood was sold just as it stood at the time, my dear. Everything -except what is our personal property belongs to Mr. Winthrop.” - -“Then I shall hate him,” said Holly, with calm decision. - -“You must do nothing of the sort, my dear. The place and the furnishings -belong to him legally.” - -“I don’t care, Auntie. He has no right to them. I shall hate him. Why, -he owns the very bed I sleep in and my maple bureau and――――” - -“You forget, Holly, that those things were bought after your father -died and do not belong to his estate.” - -“Then they’re really mine, after all? Very well, Auntie dear, I shan’t -hate him, then; at least, not so much.” - -“I trust you will not hate him at all,” responded Miss India, with a -smile. “Being an invalid, as he is, we must――――” - -“Shucks!” exclaimed Holly. “I dare say he’s just making believe so we -won’t put poison in his coffee!” - -In the middle of the afternoon, what time Miss India composed herself -to slumber and silence reigned over Waynewood, Holly found a book and -sought the fig-tree. The book, for having been twice read, proved -none too enthralling, and presently it had dropped unheeded to the -ground and Holly, leaning comfortably back against the branches, was -day-dreaming once more. The sound of footsteps on the garden path -roused her, and she peered forth just as the intruder began his half -circuit of the rose-bed. - -Afterwards Holly called herself stupid for not having guessed the -identity of the intruder at once. And yet, it seems to me that she was -very excusable. Robert Winthrop had been pictured to her as an invalid, -and invalids in Holly’s judgment were persons who lay supinely in easy -chairs, lived on chicken broth, guava jelly and calomel, and were -alternately irritatingly resigned or maddeningly petulant. The expected -invalid had also been described as middle-aged, a term capable of wide -interpretation and one upon which the worst possible construction is -usually placed. The Major had suggested fifty; Holly with unconscious -pessimism imagined sixty. Add to this that Winthrop was not expected -before the morrow, and that Holly’s acquaintance with the inhabitants -of the country north of Mason and Dixon’s line was of the slightest and -that not of the sort to prepossess her in their favor, and I think she -may be absolved from the charge of stupidity. For the stranger whose -advent in the garden had aroused her from her dreams looked to be under -forty, was far from matching Holly’s idea of an invalid, and looked -quite unlike the one or two Northerners she had seen. To be sure the -man in the garden walked slowly and a trifle languidly, but for that -matter so did many of Holly’s townsfolk. And when he paused at last -with one foot on the lower step his breath was coming a bit raggedly -and his face was too pale for perfect health. But these facts Holly -failed to observe. - -What she did observe was that the stranger was rather tall, quite -erect, broad of shoulder and deep of chest, somewhat too thin for the -size of his frame, with a pleasant, lean face of which the conspicuous -features were high cheek-bones, a straightly uncompromising nose and a -pair of nice eyes of some shade neither dark nor light. He wore a brown -mustache which, contrary to the Southern custom, was trimmed quite -short; and when he lifted his hat a moment later Holly saw that his -hair, dark brown in color, had retreated well away from his forehead -and was noticeably sprinkled with white at the temples. As for his -attire, it was immaculate; black derby, black silk tie knotted in a -four-in-hand and secured with a small pearl pin, well-cut grey sack -suit and brown leather shoes. In a Southerner Holly would have thought -such carefulness of dress foppish; in fact, as it was, she experienced -a tiny contempt for it even as she acknowledged that the result was far -from displeasing. Further observations and conclusions were cut short -by the stranger, who advanced toward her with hat in hand and a puzzled -smile. - -“How do you do?” said Winthrop. - -“Good evening,” answered Holly. - -There was a flicker of surprise in Winthrop’s eyes ere he continued. - -“I’m afraid I’m trespassing. The fact is, I was looking for a place -called Waynewood and from the directions I received in the village I -thought I had found it. But I guess I’ve made a mistake?” - -“Oh, no,” said Holly; “this is Waynewood.” - -Winthrop was silent a moment, striving to reconcile the announcement -with her presence: evidently there were complications ahead. At last: - -“Oh!” he said, and again paused. - -“Would you like to see my Aunt?” asked Holly. - -“Er――I hardly know,” answered Winthrop, with a smile for his own -predicament. “Would it sound impolite if I asked who your Aunt is?” - -“Why, Miss India Wayne,” answered Holly. “And I am Holly Wayne. Perhaps -you’ve got the wrong place, after all?” - -“Oh, no,” was the reply. “You say this is Waynewood, and of course -there can’t be two Waynewoods about here.” - -Holly shook her head, observing him gravely and curiously. Winthrop -frowned. Apparently there were complications which he had not surmised. - -“Will you come into the house?” suggested Holly. “I will tell Auntie -you wish to see her.” She prepared to descend from the low branch upon -which she was seated, and Winthrop reached a hand to her. - -“May I?” he asked, courteously. - -Holly placed her hand in his and leaped lightly to the ground, bending -her head as she smoothed her skirt that he might not see the ridiculous -little flush which had suddenly flooded her cheeks. Why, she wondered, -should she have blushed. She had been helped in and out of trees and -carriages, up and down steps, all her life, and couldn’t recollect that -she had ever done such a silly thing before! As she led the way along -the path which ran in front of the porch to the steps, she discovered -that her heart was thumping with a most disconcerting violence. And -with the discovery came a longing for flight. But with a fierce -contempt for her weakness she conquered the panic and kept her flushed -face from the sight of the man behind her. But she was heartily glad -when she had reached the comparative gloom of the hall. Laying aside -her bonnet, she turned to find that her companion had seated himself in -a chair on the porch. - -“You won’t mind if I wait here?” he asked, smiling apologetically. “The -fact is――the walk was――――” - -Had Holly not been anxious to avoid his eyes she would have seen that -he was fighting for breath and quite exhausted. Instead she turned -toward the stairs, only to pause ere she reached them to ask: - -“What name shall I say, please?” - -“Oh, I beg your pardon! Winthrop, please; Mr. Robert Winthrop, of New -York.” - -Holly wheeled about. - -“Mr. Winthrop!” she exclaimed. - -“If you please,” answered that gentleman, weakly. - -“Why,” continued Holly, in amazement, “then you aren’t an invalid, -after all!” She had reached the door now and was looking down at him -with bewilderment. Winthrop strove to turn his head toward her, gave up -the effort and smiled strainedly at the marble Cupid, which had begun -an erratic dance amongst the box and roses. - -“Oh, no,” he replied in a whisper. “I’m not――an invalid――at all.” - -Then he became suddenly very white and his head fell back over the side -of the chair. Holly gave one look and, turning, flew like the wind up -the broad stairway. - -[Illustration] - -“Auntie!” she called. “Aunt India! Come quickly! He’s fainted!” - -“Fainted? Who has fainted?” asked Miss India, from her doorway. “What -are you saying, child?” - -“Mr. Winthrop! He’s on the porch!” cried Holly, her own face almost as -white as Winthrop’s. - -“Mr. Winthrop! Here? Fainted? On the porch?” ejaculated Miss India, -dismayedly. “Call Uncle Ran at once. I’ll get the ammonia. Tell Phœbe -to bring some feathers. And get some water yourself, Holly.” - -In a moment Miss India, the ammonia bottle in hand, was――I had almost -said scuttling down the stairs. At least, she made the descent without -wasting a moment. - -“The poor man,” she murmured, as she looked down at the white face and -inert form of the stranger. “Holly! Phœbe! Oh, you’re here, are you? -Give me the water. There! Now bathe his head, Holly. Mercy, child, how -your hand shakes! Have you never seen any one faint before?” - -“It was so sudden,” faltered Holly. - -“Fainting usually is,” replied Miss India, as she dampened her tiny -handkerchief with ammonia and held it under Winthrop’s nose. “Do not -hold his head too high, Holly; that’s better. What do you say, Phœbe? -Why, you’ll just stand there and hold them until I want them, I reckon. -Dead? Of course he isn’t dead, you foolish girl. Not the least bit -dead. There, his eyelids moved; didn’t you see them? He will be all -right in a moment. You may take those feathers away, Phœbe, and tell -Uncle Ran to come and carry Mr. Winthrop up to his room. And do you go -up and start the fire and turn the bed down.” - -Winthrop drew a long breath and opened his eyes. - -“My dear lady,” he muttered, “I am so very sorry to bother you. I -don’t――――” - -“Sit still a moment, sir,” commanded Miss India, gently. “Holly, I told -you to hold his head. Don’t you see that he is weak and tired? I fear -the journey was too much for you, sir.” - -Winthrop closed his eyes for a moment, nodding his head assentingly. -Then he sat up and smiled apologetically at the ladies. - -“It was awfully stupid of me,” he said. “I have not been very well -lately and I guess the walk from the station was longer than I thought.” - -“You walked from the depot!” exclaimed Miss India, in horror. “It’s -no wonder then, sir. Why, it’s a mile and a quarter if it’s a step! I -never heard of anything so――so――――!” - -Miss India broke off and turned to the elderly negro, who had arrived -hurriedly on the scene. - -“Uncle Ran, carry Mr. Winthrop up to the West Chamber and help him to -retire.” - -“My dear lady,” Winthrop protested. “I am quite able to walk. Besides, -I have no intention of burdening you with――――” - -“Uncle Ran!” - -“Yes’m.” - -“You heard what I said?” - -“Yes’m.” - -Uncle Randall stooped over the chair. - -“Jes’ you put yo’ ahms roun’ my neck, sir, an’ I’ll tote you mighty -cahful an’ comfable, sir.” - -“But, really, I’d rather walk,” protested Winthrop. “And with your -permission, Miss――Miss Wayne, I’ll return to the village until――――” - -“Uncle Ran!” - -“Yes, Miss Indy, ma’am, I heahs you. Hol’ on tight, sir.” - -And in this ignoble fashion Winthrop took possession of Waynewood. - -[Illustration] - - - - -V. - - -True to his promise, Uncle Ran bore Winthrop “careful and comfortable” -up the wide stairs, around the turn and along the upper hall to the -West Chamber, lowering him at last, as tenderly as a basket of eggs, -into a chair. In spite of his boasts, Winthrop was in no condition to -have walked up-stairs unaided. The fainting spell, the first one since -he had left the sanitarium, had left him feeling limp and shaky. He was -glad of the negro’s assistance and content to have him remove his shoes -and help him off with his coat, the while he examined his quarters with -lazy interest. - -The room was very large, square, high-ceilinged. The walls were white -and guiltless of both paper and pictures. Four large windows would have -flooded the room with light had not the shades been carefully drawn to -within two feet of the sills. As it was, from the windows overlooking -the garden and opening onto the gallery the afternoon sunlight slanted -in, throwing long parallelograms of mellow gold across the worn and -faded carpet. The bed was a massive affair of black walnut, the -three chairs were old and comfortable, and the big mahogany-veneer -table in the centre of the room was large enough to have served for -a banquet. On it was a lamp, a plate of oranges whose fragrance was -pleasantly perceptible, and a copy of Pilgrim’s Progress bound in the -“keepsake” fashion of fifty years ago. The fire-place and hearth were -of soft red bricks and a couple of oak logs were flaring brightly. A -formidable wardrobe, bedecked with carved branches of grapes, matched -the bed, as did a washstand backed by a white “splasher” bearing a -design of cat-tails in red outline. The room seemed depressingly bare -at first, but for all of that there was an air of large hospitality -and plain comfort about it that was somewhat of a relief after the -over-furnished, over-decorated apartments with which Winthrop was -familiar. - -As his baggage had not come Miss India’s command could not be literally -obeyed, and Uncle Ran had perforce to be satisfied with the removal of -Winthrop’s outer apparel and his installation on the bed instead of in -it. - -“I’ll get yo’ trunk an’ valise right away, sir,” he said, “before they -close the depot. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Winthrop? -Can I fetch you a lil’ glass of sherry, sir?” - -“Nothing, thanks. Yes, though, you might open some of those windows -before you go. And look in my vest pocket and toss me a cigarette case -you’ll find there. I saw matches on the mantel, didn’t I? Thanks. -That’s all. My compliments to Miss Wayne, and tell her I am feeling -much better and that I will be down to dinner――that is, supper.” - -“Don’t you pay no ’tention to the bell,” said Uncle Ran, soothingly. -“Phœbe’ll fetch yo’ supper up to you, sir. I’ll jes’ go ’long now and -get yo’ trunk.” - -Uncle Ran closed the door softly behind him and Winthrop was left -alone. He pulled the spread over himself, gave a sigh of content, and -lighted a cigarette with fingers that still trembled. Then, placing -his hands beneath his head, he watched the smoke curl away toward the -cracked and flaking ceiling and gave himself up to his thoughts. - -What an ass he had made of himself! And what a trump the little lady -had been! He smiled as he recalled the manner in which she had bossed -him around. But who the deuce was she? And who was the young girl with -the big brown eyes? What were they doing here at Waynewood, in his -house? He wished he had not taken things for granted as he had, wished -he had made inquiries before launching himself southward. He must get -hold of that Major Cass and learn his bearings. Perhaps, after all, -there was some mistake and the place didn’t belong to him at all! If -that was the case he had made a pretty fool of himself by walking in -and fainting on the front porch in that casual manner! But he hoped -mightily that there was no mistake, for he had fallen in love at first -sight with the place. If it was his he would fix it up. Then he sighed -as he recollected that until he got firmly on his feet again such a -thing was quite out of the question. - -The cigarette had burned itself down and he tossed it onto the hearth. -The light was fading in the room. Through the open windows, borne on -the soft evening air, came the faint tinkling of distant cow-bells. -For the rest the silence held profoundly save for the gentle singing -of the fire. Winthrop turned on to his side, pillowed his head in his -hand and dropped to sleep. So soundly he slept that when Uncle Ran -tiptoed in with his trunk and bag he never stirred. The old negro -nodded approvingly from the foot of the bed, unstrapped the trunk, laid -a fresh log on the fire, and tiptoed out again. When Winthrop finally -awoke he found a neat colored girl lighting the lamp, while beside it -on the table a well-filled tray was laid. - -“I fetched your supper, Mr. Winthrop,” said Phœbe. - -[Illustration] - -“Thank you, but I really meant to go down. I――I think I fell asleep.” - -“Yes, sir. Miss Indy say good-night, and she hopes you’ll sleep -comfable, sir.” - -“Much obliged,” muttered Winthrop. - -“I’ll be back after awhile to fetch away the tray, sir.” - -“All right.” - -When he was once more alone he arose and laughed softly. - -“Confound the woman! She’s a regular tyrant. I wonder if she’ll let -me get up to-morrow. Oh, well, maybe she’s right. I don’t feel much -like making conversation. Hello! there’s my trunk; I must have slept -soundly, and that’s a fact!” - -Unlocking the trunk, he rummaged through it until he found his -dressing-gown and slippers. With those on he drew a chair to the table -and began his supper. - -“Nice diet for an invalid,” he thought, amusedly, as he uncovered the -hot biscuits. - -But he didn’t object to them, for he found himself very hungry; spread -with the white, crumbly unsalted butter which the repast provided he -found them extremely satisfactory. There was cold chicken, besides, -and egg soufflé, fig preserve and marble cake, and a glass of milk. -Winthrop’s gaze lingered on the milk. - -“No coffee, eh?” he muttered. “Not suitable for invalids, I suppose; -milk much better.” - -But when he had finished his meal the glass of milk still remained -untouched and he observed it thoughtfully. “I fancy Miss Wayne will -see this tray when it goes down and she’ll feel hurt because I haven’t -drunk that infernal stuff.” His gaze wandered around the room until it -encountered the washstand. “Ah!” he said, as he arose. When he returned -to the table the glass was quite empty. Digging his pipe and pouch from -his bag he filled the former and was soon puffing enjoyably, leaning -back in the easy-chair and watching the smouldering fire. - -“Even if I have to get out of here,” he reflected, “I dare say there’s -a hotel or boarding-house in the village where I could put up. I’m -not going back North yet awhile, and that’s certain. But if there’s -anything wrong with my title to Waynewood why shouldn’t they let me -stay here now that I’m established? That’s a good idea, by Jove! I’ll -get my trunk unpacked right away; possession is nine points, they say. -I dare say these folks aren’t so well off but what they’d be willing to -take a respectable gentleman to board.” - -A fluttering at his heart warned him and he laid aside his half-smoked -pipe regretfully and began to unpack his trunk and bag. In the midst of -the task Phœbe appeared to rearrange his bed and bear away the tray, -bidding him good-night in her soft voice as she went. - -By half-past seven his things were in place and, taking up one of the -books which he had brought with him, he settled himself to read. -But voices in the hall below distracted his attention, and presently -footsteps sounded on the stairway, there was a tap at his door and -Phœbe appeared again. - -“Excuse me, sir,” said Phœbe, “but Major Cass say can he see you――――” - -“Phœbe!” called the Major from below. - -“Yes, sir?” - -“You tell Mr. Winthrop that if he’s feeling too tired to see me -to-night I’ll call again to-morrow morning.” - -“Yes, sir.” Phœbe turned to Winthrop. “The Major say――――” - -“All right. Ask the Major to come up,” interrupted Winthrop, tossing -aside his book and exchanging dressing-gown for coat and waistcoat. A -moment later the Major’s halting tread sounded outside the open door -and Winthrop went forward to meet him. - -“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Mr. Winthrop,” said the Major, -as they shook hands. - -“Glad to know you, Major,” replied Winthrop. “Come in, please; try the -arm-chair.” - -The Major bowed his thanks, laid his cane across the table and accepted -the chair which Winthrop pushed forward. Winthrop drew a second chair -to the other side of the fire-place. - -“A fire, Mr. Winthrop,” observed the Major, “is very acceptable these -cool evenings.” - -“Well, I haven’t felt the need of it myself,” replied Winthrop, “but it -was here and it seemed a shame to waste it. I’ll close the windows if -you like.” - -“Not at all, not at all; I like fresh air. I couldn’t have too much of -it, sir, if it wasn’t for this confounded rheumatism of mine. With your -permission, sir.” The Major leaned forward and laid a fresh log on the -fire. Winthrop arose and quietly closed the windows. - -“Do you smoke, Major? I have some cigars here somewhere.” - -“Thank you, sir, if they’re right handy.” He accepted one, held it to -his nose and inhaled the aroma, smiled approvingly and tucked it into -a corner of his mouth. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t light it,” he said. - -“Certainly,” replied Winthrop. - -“I never learned to smoke, Mr. Winthrop,” explained the Major, “and I -reckon I’m too old to begin now. But when I was a boy, and afterwards, -during the war, I got a lot of comfort out of chewing, sir. But it’s a -dirty habit, sir, and I had to give it up. The only way I use tobacco -now, sir, is in this way. It’s a compromise, sir.” And he rolled the -cigar around enjoyably. - -“I see,” replied Winthrop. - -“I trust you are feeling recovered from the effects of your arduous -journey?” inquired the Major. - -“Quite, thank you. I dare say Miss Wayne told you what an ass I made of -myself when I arrived?” - -“You refer to your――ah――momentary indisposition? Yes, Miss India -informed me, and I was very pleased to learn of it.” Winthrop stared -in surprise. “You are feeling better now, sir?” - -“Oh, yes; quite fit, thank you.” - -“I’m very glad to hear it. I must apologize for not being at the -station to welcome you, sir, but I gathered from your letter that you -would not reach Corunna before to-morrow, and I thought that perhaps -you would telegraph me again. I was obliged to drive into the country -this afternoon on business, and only learned of your visit to my office -when I returned. I then took the liberty of calling at the earliest -moment.” - -“And I’m very glad you did,” answered Winthrop, heartily. “There’s a -good deal I want to talk to you about.” - -“I am quite at your service, sir.” - -“Thanks, Major. Now, in the first place, where am I?” - -“Your pardon, Mr. Winthrop?” asked the Major, startledly. - -“I mean,” answered the other, with a smile, “is this Waynewood and does -it belong to me?” - -“This is certainly Waynewood, sir, and I have gathered from your letter -that you had come into possession of it.” - -“All right. Then who, if I may ask the question without seeming -impertinent, who are the ladies down-stairs?” - -“Ah, Mr. Winthrop, I understand your question now,” returned the Major. -“Allow me to explain. I would have done so before had there been -opportunity, but your letter said that you were leaving New York at -once and I presumed that there would be no time for an answer to reach -you.” - -“Quite right, Major.” - -“The ladies are Miss India Wayne and her niece, Miss Holly Wayne, -sister and daughter respectively of my very dear and much lamented -friend Captain Lamar Wayne, whose home this was for many years. At his -death I found myself the executor of his will, sir. He left this estate -and very little else but debts. I did the best I could, Mr. Winthrop, -but Waynewood had to go. It was sold to a Judge Linderman of Georgia, -a very estimable gentleman and a shining light of the State Bar. As he -had no intention of living here I made an arrangement with him whereby -Miss India and her niece might remain here in their home, sir, paying -a――a nominal rent for the place.” - -“A very convenient arrangement, Major.” - -“I am glad to hear you say so,” replied the Major, almost eagerly. -“Judge Linderman, however, was a consarned fool, sir, and couldn’t -let speculation alone. He was caught in a cotton panic and absolutely -ruined. Waynewood then passed to your late partner, Mr. Potter. The -arrangement in force before was extended with his consent, and the -ladies have continued to reside here. They are paying”――(the Major -paused and spat voluminously into the fire)――“they are paying, Mr. -Winthrop, the sum of five dollars a month rent.” - -“A fair figure, I presume, as rents go hereabouts,” observed Winthrop, -subduing a smile. - -The Major cleared his throat. Then he leaned across and laid a large -hand on Winthrop’s knee. - -“A small price, Mr. Winthrop, and that’s the truth. And I don’t deny -that after the property fell into Mr. Potter’s hands I was troubled -right smart by my conscience. As long as it was Judge Linderman it was -all right; he was a Southerner, one of us, and could understand. No -offense intended, Mr. Winthrop. But afterwards when I wrote Mr. Potter -of the arrangement in force and――ah――suggested its continuance, I felt -that maybe I was taking advantage of his absence from the scene. To -be sure the amount was all that the ladies could afford to pay, and -it isn’t likely that Mr. Potter could have found more satisfactory -tenants. Still, I dare say it was my place to tell him that the figure -was pretty cheap, and let him try and do better with the property. I -reckon I allowed my interest in my clients to sway my judgment, Mr. -Winthrop. But I made up my mind when I got your letter and learned you -were coming here that I’d explain things to you, sir, and let you do as -you thought best.” - -“In regard to――――?” - -“In regard to re-renting, sir.” - -“But I had intended occupying the house myself, Major.” - -“So I gathered, sir, so I gathered. But of course you couldn’t know -what the circumstances were, Mr. Winthrop. It isn’t as though the -place was family property, sir, with you; not as though it was your -birthplace and home. It’s just a house and a few acres of ground to -you, sir; it has no――ah――sentimental value. You follow me, sir?” - -“Yes, and you are beginning to make me feel like an interloper, Major -Cass.” - -“God forbid, sir! I had no such intention, I assure you, sir. I am sure -no one could be more welcome at any time to Waynewood, and I trust, -sir, that we shall often have the pleasure of seeing you here, sir.” - -Winthrop’s laugh held a touch of exasperation. - -“But, Great Scott! Major, you’re proposing to turn me out of my own -house!” - -“Bless your soul, sir, don’t say that! Dear, dear! Does it sound that -way to you? My apologies, Mr. Winthrop! I won’t say another word, sir!” - -The Major rolled the cigar agitatedly about in the corner of his loose -mouth. - -“Look here,” said Winthrop, “let’s understand each other, Major. I have -come into possession of this property and we’ll allow for the sake of -the argument that it holds no sentimental value for me. Now what do you -propose I should do? Sign a new rental and pack up my things and go -home again?” - -“Nothing of the kind, sir, I assure you! What I meant to convey was -that as you were intending to stay here in Corunna only two or three -months, you could perhaps be quite as comfortable in the Palmetto House -as at Waynewood. The Palmetto House, sir, is a very well-managed hotel, -sir, and you would receive the most hospitable treatment.” - -“Thanks for your frankness, Major. This Palmetto House is in the -village?” - -“It is, sir. It faces the court-house on the south.” - -“And it has a large garden in front of it, with trees and vines and -roses and a marble Cupid dancing in a bed of box?” - -The Major shook his head regretfully. - -“Well, Major, the place I’ve taken a fancy to boasts of just those -attractions. Don’t you think that perhaps we could somehow arrange it -so that I could stay there?” - -“Do you mean, sir, that you would be willing to remain here as――as a -paying guest?” asked the Major, eagerly. - -Winthrop shrugged his shoulders. - -“Why not? If the ladies are agreeable. At first sight there may be -something a trifle anomalous in the idea of the owner of a property who -has journeyed several hundred miles to occupy it petitioning for the -privilege of being allowed to remain as a boarder, but, of course, I -have the limitations of the Northerner and doubtless fail to get the -correct point of view.” - -But Winthrop’s irony was quite lost on the Major. - -“My dear sir, you have taken a great load from my mind,” exclaimed the -latter. “I had hoped that the difficulty might be surmounted in just -the way you propose, but somehow I gathered after meeting you that -you――ah――resented the presence of the ladies.” - -“Nonsense!” said Winthrop, a trifle impatiently. “Miss Wayne and her -niece are quite welcome to remain here as long as they like. I was, -however, naturally surprised to find anyone in possession. By all -means let us renew the rental agreement. Meanwhile, if the ladies are -agreeable, I will remain here and pay board and room-rent. I dare say -my visit will not cover more than three months. And I will try to be as -little trouble as possible.” - -“Then the matter is settled,” answered the Major, with a gratified -smile. “Unless――――” He paused. - -“More difficulties?” asked Winthrop, patiently. - -“I hope not, sir, but I won’t deny that Miss India may spoil our plans.” - -[Illustration] - -“You mean that she may not want to take a boarder?” - -“Well, it’s this way, Mr. Winthrop.” The Major cleared his throat. -“Miss Wayne has always been prejudiced against Northerners, but――――” - -“Really? But she seemed kindness itself this afternoon.” - -“I’m delighted to hear it, sir, delighted! And allow me to say, Mr. -Winthrop, sir, that you couldn’t have played a stronger card than you -did.” - -“Card? What do you mean, Major?” - -“I mean that in losing consciousness as you did, sir, you accomplished -more than I could have accomplished in an hour’s argument. It was very -well done, sir, for I assure you that it was only by representing you -as an invalid that I was able to prevail on Miss India to remain here, -sir, until your arrival. When I found that I had missed you at the -office I feared that you would perhaps unwittingly give the impression -of being a――a well man, sir, and thus prejudice the lady against you. -But as it happened, sir, you played just the card calculated to win the -trick.” - -“But, Great Scott!” exclaimed Winthrop, exasperatedly; “you don’t think -for a moment, do you, that I deliberately simulated illness in order -to work on her sympathies?” - -“Of course not,” said the Major, earnestly. “How could you have known? -No, no; I merely congratulated you on the fortunate――ah――coincidence, -sir.” - -“Oh! Then I am to understand that as a well man Miss Wayne will refuse -to harbor me, but as an invalid she will consent to do so――for a -consideration?” - -“Exactly, Mr. Winthrop; that is just how it stands, sir.” - -“And having once been accepted will it be necessary for me to continue -to pose as an invalid for the rest of my stay?” he asked dryly. - -“We-ell,” answered the Major, hesitatingly, “I don’t deny that it would -help, but I don’t reckon it’ll be absolutely necessary, sir.” - -Winthrop smiled. - -“I’m glad to hear it, for I’m rather tired of being an invalid, and I -don’t think I should enjoy even making believe for very long. May I -ask whether Miss Wayne’s dislike for persons from my section of the -country is ineradicable, Major?” - -“I sincerely hope not, sir!” replied the Major, earnestly. “Her -brother’s views on the subject were very――ah――settled, sir, and Miss -India had the highest respect for his opinions. But she has never had -the fortune, I believe, to meet with a real Northern gentleman, Mr. -Winthrop.” And the Major bowed courteously. - -“And the niece? Miss――――?” - -“Holly, sir. Well, she is guided largely by her Aunt, Mr. Winthrop, -and doubtless clings to many of her father’s convictions, but she has -a well-developed sense of justice and a warm heart, sir, and I believe -her prejudices can be dispelled.” - -“Well, I appear to be in the enemy’s country, with a vengeance,” said -Winthrop. “How about you, Major? Are you also down on us?” - -“No, Mr. Winthrop. I don’t deny, sir, that shortly after the war I felt -resentment, but that sentiment has long since disappeared. I am honored -with the friendship of several very estimable Northern gentlemen, sir. -Nor must you think the sentiment hereabouts prejudicial to your people, -Mr. Winthrop. Corunna is off the track of the tourist, to be sure; we -have no special attractions here; no big hotels, sir, to cater to him; -but once in a while a Northerner wanders to our town and we have grown -to appreciate his many very excellent qualities, sir.” - -“That’s comforting. I had begun to feel like a pariah.” - -“My dear sir!” expostulated the Major. “Disabuse your mind of such -wrong ideas, Mr. Winthrop. I shall take pleasure in convincing you that -any ill-feeling engendered by the late unpleasantness has quite passed -away. I shall esteem it a great privilege to be allowed to introduce -you to some of our more prominent citizens, sir.” - -“Thank you very much,” answered Winthrop. “The privilege will be mine, -Major. Must you go?” - -“Yes, we mustn’t forget that you are not yet as strong as we hope to -have you after you have been under the treatment of our climate for -awhile, sir. Good-night, Mr. Winthrop. I have enjoyed our little talk, -and it has been a pleasure to meet a gentleman of your attainments, -sir.” - -“You are very good,” Winthrop replied. “It has been a pleasure to meet -you, Major. And may I leave the negotiations in your hands?” - -“You may, sir. I hope to be able to inform you to-morrow that our plan -is successful.” - -“Yes. And in regard to the price to be paid, Major; I’ll leave that -entirely with you as I haven’t any idea what is right.” - -“You may do so, sir. And possibly some day at your convenience you will -drop in at my office and we will attend to the matter of the new lease?” - -“With pleasure, Major. Good-night, sir.” - -Winthrop remained at the door until the Major had reached the lower -hall. Then he closed it and, hands in his pockets, returned to the -fire-place and stared frowningly into the coals. Mechanically he -reached his pipe from the mantel and lighted it with an ember. And -presently, as he smoked, the frown disappeared and he laughed softly. - -“Of all the ridiculous situations!” he muttered. - - - - -VI. - - -Holly came softly down the stairs, one small hand laid upon the -broad mahogany rail to steady her descent, her little slippered feet -twinkling in and out from beneath the hem of her gingham skirt, her -lithe young body swaying in unconscious rhythm with the song she was -singing under her breath. It was not yet seven o’clock, and no one -save the servants was astir. Holly had always been an early riser, and -when the weather permitted the hour before breakfast was spent by her -in the open air. On warm mornings she kept to the grateful shade of -the porch, perching herself on the joggling-board and gently jouncing -herself up and down the while she stared thoughtfully out across the -garden into the cool green gloom of the grove, an exercise undoubtedly -beneficial to the liver but one which would have resulted with most -persons in a total disinclination for breakfast. On those terribly cold -winter mornings when the water-pail on the back porch showed a film of -ice, she slipped down the oleander path and out on to the road for a -brisk walk or huddled herself in a sun-warmed corner at the back of the -house. But this morning, which held neither the heat of summer nor the -tang of frost, when, after unlatching the front door and swinging it -creakingly open, she emerged on to the porch, she stood for a moment -in the deep shadow of it, gazing happily down upon the pleasant scene -before her. - -[Illustration] - -Directly in front of her spread the fragrant quadrangle of the garden, -the paths, edged with crumbling bricks set cantwise in the dark soil, -curving and angling between the beds in formal precision. In the -centre, out of a tangle of rose-bushes and box, the garlanded Cupid, -tinged to pale gold by the early sunlight, smiled across at her. About -him clustered tender blooms of old-fashioned roses, and the path was -sprinkled with the fallen petals. Beyond, the long tunnel between the -oleanders was still filled with the lingering shadows of dawn. To right -and left of the centre bed lay miniature jungles of overgrown shrubs; -roses, deutzias, cape jasmines, Japan quinces, sweet shrubs and all -the luxuriant hodge-podge of a Southern garden somewhat run to seed, -a little down at the heels maybe, but radiantly beautiful in its very -disorder. - -[Illustration] - -On the far side, the garden was bordered with taller -shrubs――crépe-myrtles, mimosas, camelias, which merged imperceptibly -into the trees of the grove. To the right, beyond the bordering path, -a few pear-trees showed their naked branches and a tall frankincense -tree threw delicate shadow-tracery over the corner bed. To the left -were Japan plums and pomegranates and figs, half hiding the picket -fence, and a few youthful orange-trees, descendants of sturdy ancestors -who had lost their lives in the freeze three years before. A huge -magnolia spread its shapely branches over one of the beds, its trunk -encircled by a tempting seat. Ribbon-grass swayed gently here and there -above the rioting shrubbery, and at the corner of the porch, where a -gate gave on to the drive, a clump of banana-trees, which had almost -but not quite borne fruit that year, reared their succulent green stems -in a sunny nook and arched their great broad leaves, torn and ribboned -by the winds, with tropical effect. Near at hand, against the warm red -chimney, climbed a Baltimore Belle, festooning the end of the house for -yards with its tiny, glossy leaves. The shadow of the house cut the -garden sharply into two triangles, the dividing line between sunlight -and shade crossing the pedestal of the smiling Cupid. Everywhere -glistened diamonds of dew, and over all, growing more intense each -instant as the sunlight and warmth grew in ardor, was the thrilling -fragrance of the roses and the box, of damp earth and awakening leaves. - -[Illustration] - -While Holly’s mother had lived the garden had been her pride and -delight. It had been known to fame all through that part of the State -and the beauty of the Wayne roses was a proverb. But now the care of -it fell to Uncle Ran, together with the care of a bewildering number -of other things, and Uncle Ran had neither the time nor the knowledge -to maintain its former perfection. Holly loved it devotedly, knew it -from corner to corner. At an earlier age she had plucked the blossoms -for dolls and played with them for long hours on the seat under the -magnolia. The full-blown roses were grown-up ladies, with beautiful -outspread skirts of pink, white or yellow, and little green waists. -The half-opened roses were young ladies, and tiny white violets, or -waxen orange-blooms or little blossoms of the deutzia were the babies. -For the men, although Holly seldom bothered much with men, there were -the jonquils or the oleanders. She knew well where the first blue -violets were to be found, where the white jonquils broke first from -their green calyces, where the little yellow balls of the opopanax -were sweetest, what rose-petals were best adapted to being formed into -tiny sacs and exploded against the forehead, and many other wonderful -secrets of that fair domain. But in spite of all this, Holly was no -gardener. - -[Illustration] - -She loved flowers just as she loved the deep blue Florida sky with -its hazy edges, the soft wind from the Gulf, the golden sunlight, the -birds and bees and butterflies――just as she loved everything that was -quickened with the wonderful breath of Nature. There was something of -the pagan in Holly when it came to devotion to Nature. And yet she had -no ability to make things grow. From her mother she had inherited the -love of trees and plants and flowers but not the gift of understanding -them. Doubtless the Druids, with all their veneration for the oak and -mistletoe, would have been sorely puzzled had they had to rear their -leafy temples from planted acorns. - -[Illustration] - -Holly went down the steps and, holding her gown away from the -moisture-beaded branches, buried her face in a cluster of pink roses. -Then, struck by a thought, she returned to the house, reappearing -a moment later with her hands encased in a pair of old gloves, and -carrying scissors. - -Aunt India didn’t believe in bringing flowers into the house. “If the -Lord had intended us to have them on the tables and mantels,” she said, -“He’d have put them there. But He didn’t; He meant them to be out -of doors and we ought to be satisfied to admire them where He’s put -them.” Usually Holly respected her Aunt’s prejudice, but to-day seemed -in a way a special occasion. The Cloth of Gold roses seemed crying to -be gathered, and their stems snipped gratefully under the scissors as -she made her way along the edge of the bed. Her hands were almost full -of the big yellow blooms when footsteps sounded on the porch and she -glanced up to see Winthrop descending the steps. She wondered with -sudden dismay whether she was going to blush as she had yesterday, and, -for fear that she was, leaned far over the refractory cluster she was -cutting. Winthrop’s footsteps approached along the sandy walk, and―― - -[Illustration] - -“Good-morning, Miss Holly,” he said. - -“Good-morning,” answered Holly, and, having won her prize started to -straighten up. “I hope――――” - -But instead of finishing the polite inquiry she said “_Oh!_” A branch -of the rose-bush had caught in her hair, and the more she tugged the -more firmly it held. - -“Still a moment,” said Winthrop. He leaned over and disentangled the -thorns. “There you are. I hope I didn’t pull very hard?” - -“Thank you,” murmured Holly, raising a very red face. Winthrop, looking -down into it, smiled; smiled for no particular reason, save that the -morning air was very delightful, the morning sunlight very warm and -cheering, and the face before him very lovely to look at. But Holly, -painfully aware of her burning cheeks, thought he was smiling at her -blushes. “What a silly he must think me!” she reflected, angrily. -“Blushing every time he comes near!” She busied herself with the roses -for a moment. - -“You’ve got more than you can manage, haven’t you?” asked Winthrop. -“Suppose you entrust them to me; then you’ll have your hands free.” - -“I can manage very nicely, thank you,” answered Holly, a trifle -haughtily. - -Winthrop’s smile deepened. - -“Do you know what I think, Miss Holly?” he asked. - -“No,” said Holly, looking about her in a very preoccupied way in search -of more blossoms. - -“I think you’re a little bit resentful because I’ve come to share your -Eden. I believe you were playing that you were Eve and that you were -all alone here except for the serpent.” - -“Playing!” said Holly, warmly. “Please, how old do you think I am, Mr. -Winthrop?” - -“My dear young lady,” answered Winthrop, gravely, “I wouldn’t think -of even speculating on so serious a subject. But supposing you are -very, very old, say seventeen――or even eighteen!――still you haven’t, -I hope, got beyond the age of make-believe. Why, even I――and, as you -will readily see, I have one foot almost in the grave――even I sometimes -make-believe.” - -“Do you?” murmured Holly, very coldly. - -There was silence for a moment during which Holly added further prizes -to her store and Winthrop followed her and watched her in mingled -admiration and amusement――admiration for the grace and beauty and sheer -youth of her, amusement at her evident resentment. - -“I’m sorry,” he said presently, slowly and thoughtfully. - -“At what?” Holly allowed herself a fleeting look at his face. It was -very serious and regretful, but the smile still lurked in the dark -eyes, and Holly’s vanity flew to arms again. - -“Sorry that I’ve said something to displease you,” returned Winthrop. -“You see, I was hoping to make friends with you, Miss Holly.” - -Holly thought of a dozen questions to ask, but heroically refrained. - -“I gathered from Major Cass last evening,” continued Winthrop, “that -Northerners are not popular at Waynewood. But you seemed a very kind -young lady, and I thought that if I could only win you over to my side -you might intercede for me with your aunt. You see, I’d like very much -to stay here, but I’m afraid Miss Wayne isn’t going to take to the -idea. And now I’ve gone and antagonized the very person I meant to win -for an ally.” - -“I don’t see why you can’t stay here if you want to,” answered Holly. -“Waynewood belongs to you.” - -“But what would I do here all alone?” asked Winthrop. “I’m a frightfully -helpless, ignorant chap. Why, I don’t even know how to cook a beefsteak! -And as for beaten biscuit――――!” - -Holly smiled, in spite of herself. - -“But you could hire some servants, I reckon.” - -“Oh, I shouldn’t know how to manage them, really. No, the only way in -which I can remain here is as your guest, Miss Holly. I’ve asked Major -Cass to tell Miss Wayne that, and I’ve no doubt but what he will do -all he can for me, but I fancy that a word from you would help a lot, -Miss Holly. Don’t you think you could tell your aunt that I am a very -respectable sort of a fellow, one who has never been known to give any -trouble? I have been with some of the best families and I can give -references from my last place, if necessary.” - -“I reckon you don’t know Aunt India,” laughed Holly. “If she says you -can’t stay, you can’t, and it wouldn’t do a mite of good if I talked -myself black in the face.” - -Holly turned toward the house and he followed. - -“You think, then,” he asked, “that there’s nothing more we can do to -influence Fate in my behalf?” - -[Illustration] - -Holly ran lightly up the steps, tossed the flowers in a heap on the -porch, and sat down with her back against a pillar. Then she pointed -to the opposite side of the steps. - -“Sit down there,” she commanded. - -[Illustration] - -Winthrop bowed and obeyed. Holly clasped her hands about her knees, and -looked across at him with merry eyes. - -“Mr. Winthrop.” - -“Madam?” - -“What will you give me if I let you stay?” - -“Pardon my incredulity,” replied Winthrop, “but is your permission all -that is necessary?” - -Holly nodded her head many times. - -“If I say you can stay, you can,” she said, decisively. - -“Then in exchange for your permission I will give you half my kingdom,” -answered Winthrop, gravely. - -“Oh, I don’t think I could use half a kingdom. It would be like owning -half a horse, wouldn’t it? Supposing I wanted my half to go and the -other half wouldn’t?” - -“Then take it all.” - -“No, because I reckon your kingdom’s up North, and I wouldn’t want -a kingdom I couldn’t live in. It will have to be something else, I -reckon.” - -“And I have so little with me,” mourned Winthrop. “I dare say you -wouldn’t have any use for a winter overcoat or a pair of patent-leather -shoes? They’re about all I have to offer.” - -“No,” laughed Holly; “anyhow, not the overcoat. Do you think the shoes -would fit me?” - -She advanced one little slippered foot from beyond the hem of her -skirt. Winthrop looked, and shook his head. - -“Honestly, I’m afraid not,” he said. “I don’t believe I ever saw a shoe -that would fit you, Miss Holly.” - -Holly acknowledged the compliment with a ceremonious bow and a little -laugh. - -“I didn’t know you Northerners could pay compliments,” she said. - -“We are a very adaptable people,” answered Winthrop, “and pride -ourselves on being able to face any situation.” - -“But you haven’t told me what you’ll give me, Mr. Winthrop.” - -“I have exhausted my treasures, Miss Holly. There remains only myself. -I throw myself at your feet, my dear young lady; I will be your slave -for life.” - -“Oh, I thought you Northerners didn’t believe in slavery,” said Holly. - -“We don’t believe in compulsory slavery, Miss Holly. To be a slave to -Beauty is always a pleasure.” - -“Another compliment!” cried Holly. “Two before breakfast!” - -“And the day is still young,” laughed Winthrop. - -“Oh, I won’t demand any more, Mr. Winthrop; you’ve done your duty -already.” - -“As you like; I am your slave.” - -“How lovely! I never had a slave before,” said Holly, reflectively. - -“I fear your memory is poor, Miss Holly. I’ll wager you’ve had, and -doubtless still have, a score of them quite as willing as I.” - -Holly blushed a little, but shook her head. - -“Not I. But it’s a bargain, Mr. Winthrop. I won’t keep you for life, -though; when you leave here I’ll give you your ‘freedance,’ as the -negroes say. But while you are here you are to do just as I tell you. -Will you?” she added, sternly. - -“I obey implicitly,” answered Winthrop. “And now?” - -“Why, you may stay, of course. Besides, it was all arranged last -evening. Uncle Major and Auntie fixed it all up between them after he -came down from seeing you. You are to have the room you are in and the -one back of it, if you want it, and you are to pay three dollars and -a-half a week; one dollar for your room and two dollars and a-half for -your board.” - -“But――isn’t that――――?” - -“Please don’t!” begged Holly. “I don’t know anything about it. If it’s -too much, you must speak to Aunt India or Major Cass.” - -“I was about to suggest that it seemed ridiculously little,” said -Winthrop. “But――――” - -“Gracious!” exclaimed Holly. “Uncle Major thought it ought to be more, -but Auntie wouldn’t hear of it. Do you think it should be?” - -“Well, I’m scarcely a disinterested party,” laughed Winthrop, “but it -doesn’t sound much, does it?” - -“Three dollars and a-half!” said Holly, slowly and thoughtfully. Then -she nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, it sounds a whole lot.” She -laughed softly. “It’s very funny, though, isn’t it?” - -“What?” he asked, smiling in sympathy. - -“Why, that you should be paying three dollars and a-half a week for the -privilege of being a slave!” - -“Ah, but that’s it,” answered Winthrop. “It is a privilege, as you say.” - -“Oh!” cried Holly, in simulated alarm. “You’re at it again, Mr. -Winthrop!” - -“At it? At what?” - -“Compliments, compliments, sir! You’ll have none left for this evening -if you don’t take care. Just think; you might meet a beautiful young -lady this evening and not have any compliments for her! Wouldn’t that -be dreadful?” - -“Horrible,” answered Winthrop. “I shudder.” - -“Are you hungry?” asked Holly, suddenly. - -“Hungry? No――yes――I hardly know.” - -“You’re probably starving, then,” said Holly, jumping up and sweeping -the roses into her arms. “I’ll see if breakfast isn’t nearly ready. -Auntie doesn’t come down to breakfast very often, and it’s my place to -see that it’s on time. But I never do, and it never is. Do you love -punctuality, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Can’t bear it, Miss Holly.” - -She stood a little way off, smiling down at him, a soft flush in her -cheeks. - -“You always say just the right thing, don’t you?” She laughed. “How do -you manage it?” - -“Long practice, my dear young lady. When you’ve lived as long as I have -you will have discovered that it is much better to say the right thing -than the wrong――even when the right thing isn’t altogether right.” - -“Yes, I reckon so, but――sometimes it’s an awful temptation to say the -wrong, isn’t it? Are you awfully old? May I guess?” - -“I shall be flattered.” - -“Then――forty?” - -Winthrop sighed loudly. - -“Too much? Wait! Thirty――thirty-seven?” - -“Thirty-eight.” - -“Is that very old? I shall be eighteen in a few days.” - -“Really? Then, you see, I have already lived twice as long as you have.” - -“Yes,” Holly nodded, thoughtfully. “Do you know, I don’t think I want -to live to be real, real old; I think I’d rather die before――before -that.” - -“And what do you call real, real old?” asked Winthrop. - -“Oh, I don’t know; fifty, I reckon.” - -“Then I have twelve years longer to live,” said Winthrop, gravely. - -Holly turned a pair of startled eyes upon him. - -“No, no! It’s different with you; you’re a man.” - -“Oh, that makes a difference?” - -“Lots! Men can do heaps of things, great, big things, after they’re -old, but a woman――――” She paused and shrugged her shoulders in a funny, -exaggerated way that Winthrop thought charming. “What is there for a -woman when she’s that old?” - -“Much,” answered Winthrop, gravely, “if she has been a wise woman. -There should be her children to love and to love her, and if she has -married the right man there will be that love, too, in the afternoon of -her life.” - -“Children,” murmured Holly. “Yes, that would be nice; but they wouldn’t -be children then, would they? And――supposing they died before? The -woman would be terribly lonely, wouldn’t she――in the afternoon?” - -Winthrop turned his face away and looked out across the sunlit garden. - -“Yes,” he said, very soberly; “yes, she would be lonely.” - -Something in his tones drew Holly’s attention. How deep the lines about -his mouth were this morning, and how gray the hair was at his temples; -she had not noticed it before. Yes, after all, thirty-eight was quite -old. That thought or some other moved her to a sudden sentiment of -pity. Impulsively she tore one of the big yellow roses from the bunch -and with her free hand tossed it into his lap. - -“Do you know, Mr. Winthrop,” she said, softly, “I reckon we’re going to -be friends, you and I,――that is, if you want to.” - -Winthrop sprang to his feet, the rose in his hand. - -“I do want to, Miss Holly,” he said, earnestly. Somehow, before she -realized it, Holly’s hand was in his. “I want it very much. I haven’t -very many friends, I guess, and when one gets toward forty he doesn’t -find them as easily as he did. Is it a bargain, then? We are to be -friends, very good friends, Miss Holly?” - -“Yes,” answered Holly, simply, “very good friends.” - -Her dark eyes looked seriously into his for a moment. Then she withdrew -her hand, laughed softly under her breath and turned toward the door. -But on the threshold she looked back over her shoulder, the old -mischief in her face. - -“But don’t you go and forget that you’re my slave, Mr. Winthrop,” she -said. - -“Never! You have fettered me with roses.” - - - - -VII. - - -[Illustration] - -Miss India made no exception that morning to her general rule, and -Holly presided over the coffee cups. The table was rather large, and -although Winthrop’s place was in the middle, facing the open door onto -the back porch, there was quite an expanse of emptiness between him -and his hostess. Through the door and across the bridge to the kitchen -Phœbe trotted at minute intervals to bring fresh relays of hot biscuits -and buckwheat cakes. The dining-room was rather shabby. The walls -were papered in dark brown, and the floor was covered with linoleum. -A mahogany sideboard, which took up quite ten feet of one end of the -room, looked sadly out of its element. Three pictures in tarnished gilt -frames hung by thick green cords very close to the ceiling, so that -Winthrop was spared the necessity of close examination, something which -they did not invite. But for all its shabbiness there was something -comfortable about the room, something homey that made the old dishes -with their chipped edges and half-obliterated ornamentation seem -eminently suitable, and that gave Winthrop a distinct sensation of -pleasure. - -He found that, in spite of his previous uncertainty, he was very -hungry, and, although he had hard work to keep from grimacing over -the first taste of the coffee, he ate heartily and enjoyed it all. -And while he ate, Holly talked. Sometimes he slipped in a word of -comment or a question, but they were not necessary so far as Holly -was concerned. There was something almost exciting for her in the -situation. To have an audience who was quite fresh and sympathetic was -an event in her life, and there are so many, many things one has to -say at eighteen. And Winthrop enjoyed it almost as much as Holly. Her -_naive_ views of life amused even while they touched him. She seemed -very young for her age, and very unsophisticated after the Northern -girls Winthrop knew. And he found her voice and pronunciation charming, -besides. He loved the way she made “I” sound like “Ah,” the way she -narrowed some vowels and broadened others, her absolute contempt for -the letter “r.” The soft drawl of Southern speech was new to him, and -he found it fascinating. Once Holly stopped abruptly in the middle of -a sentence, laid her left hand palm downwards on the edge of the table -and struck her knuckles sharply with the handle of her knife. - -“What’s the matter?” inquired Winthrop, in surprise. - -“Punishment,” answered Holly, gravely, the chastised hand held against -her lips. “You see there are three words that Auntie doesn’t like me -to use, and when I do use them I rap my knuckles.” - -“Oh,” smiled Winthrop, “and does it help?” - -“I don’t reckon it’s helped much yet,” said Holly, “but maybe it will. -It sure does hurt, though.” - -“And may I ask what the words are?” - -“One is ‘Fiddle.’ Does that sound very bad to you?” - -“N-no, I think not. What does it signify, please?” - -“Oh, you just say ‘Fiddle’ when――when something happens you don’t like.” - -“I see; ‘Fiddle;’ yes, quite expressive. And the others?” - -“‘Shucks’ is one of them.” - -“Used, I fancy, in much the same sense as ‘Fiddle’?” - -Holly nodded. - -“Only――only not so much so,” she added. - -“Certainly not,” replied Winthrop. “I understand. For instance, if you -fell down stairs you’d say ‘Fiddle!’ but if you merely bumped your -head you’d say ‘Shucks!’” - -“Yes,” laughed Holly. - -“And the third prohibited word?” asked Winthrop. - -“That’s――that’s――――” Holly bent her head very meekly over her -plate――“that’s ‘Darnation!’” - -“Expressive, at least,” laughed Winthrop. “That is reserved, I suppose, -for such extraordinary occasions as when you fall from a sixth-story -window?” - -“No; I say that when I stick a needle into my finger,” answered Holly. -“It seems to suit better than ‘Fiddle’ or ‘Shucks;’ don’t you think so, -Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Well, I don’t remember ever having stuck a needle into my finger, but -I’ll try it some time and give you my candid opinion on the question.” - -After breakfast Winthrop wandered out into the garden and from thence -into the grove beyond. There were pines and cedars here, and oaks, and -other trees which he didn’t know the names of. The gray-green Spanish -moss draped an occasional limb, and at times there was some underbrush. -Finding the drive, he followed it toward the gate, but before reaching -the latter he struck off again through a clearing and climbed a little -knoll on the summit of which a small brick-walled enclosure guarded -by three huge oaks attracted his attention and aroused his curiosity. -But he didn’t open the little iron gate when he reached it. Within the -square enclosure were three graves, two close together near at hand, -one somewhat removed. From where he leaned across the crumbling wall -Winthrop could read the inscriptions on the three simple headstones. -The farther grave was that of “John Wayne, born Fairfield, Kentucky, -Feb. 1, 1835; fell at Malvern Hill, July 1, 1862; interred in this spot -July 28, 1862.” - -The nearer of the two graves which lay together was that, as Winthrop -surmised, of Holly’s mother. Behind the headstone a rose-bush had been -planted, and this morning one tiny bloom gleamed wanly in the shadow -of the wall. “To the Beloved Memory of Margaret Britton, Wife of Lamar -Wayne; Sept. 3, 1853–Jan. 1, 1881. Aged 27 years. ‘The balmy zephyrs, -silent since her death, Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.’” - -Winthrop’s gaze turned to the stone beside it. - -“Here lies,”――he read――“the Body of Captain Lamar Wayne, C. S. A., who -was born in Fairfield, Kentucky, Aug, 4, 1842, and died at Waynewood, -Sept. 21, 1892, aged 50 years. ‘Happier for me that all our hours -assign’d, Together we had lived; ev’n not in death disjoined.’” - -Here, thought Winthrop, was hint of a great love. He compared the -dates. Captain Wayne had lived twelve years after his wife’s death. -Winthrop wondered if those years had seemed long to him. Probably not, -since he had Holly to care for――Holly, whom Winthrop doubted not, was -very greatly like her mother. To have the child spared to him! Ah, -that was much. Winthrop’s eyes lifted from the quiet space before him -and sought the distant skyline as his thoughts went to another grave -many hundred miles away. A mocking-bird flew into one of the oaks -and sang a few tentative notes, and then was silent. Winthrop roused -himself with a sigh and turned back down the knoll toward the house, -which stood smiling amidst its greenery a few hundred yards away. - -As he entered the hall he heard Holly in converse with Aunt Venus on -the back porch, and as he glanced through the doorway she moved into -sight, her form silhouetted against the sunlight glare. But he gave her -only a passing thought as he mounted the stairs to his room. The spell -of the little graveyard on the knoll and of that other more distant one -was still with him, and remained until, having got his hat and cane, he -passed through the open gate and turned townward on the red clay road. - -Major Cass was seated in his cushioned arm-chair with his feet on -his desk and a sheepskin-covered book spread open on his knees when -Winthrop obeyed the invitation to enter. - -“Ah, Mr. Winthrop, sir, good-morning,” said the Major, as he tossed the -book on to the desk and climbed to his feet. “Your rest has done you -good, sir; I can see that. Feeling more yourself to-day, eh?” - -“Quite well, thanks,” answered Winthrop, accepting the arm-chair which -his host pushed toward him. “I thought I’d come down and hear the -verdict and attend to the matter of the rental.” - -“Yes, yes,” said the Major. “Very kind of you, sir.” - -He limped to a cupboard in one corner and returned with a jug and two -not overly clean glasses, which he set on the desk, brushing aside -a litter of papers and books. “You will join me, Mr. Winthrop, in a -little liquor, sir, I trust?” - -“A very little, then,” answered Winthrop. “I’m still under doctor’s -orders, you know.” - -“As little as you like,” rejoined the Major, courteously, “but we -must drink to the success of our conspiracy, sir. The matter is all -arranged. Miss India was――ah――surprisingly complacent, sir.” The Major -handed the glass to Winthrop with a bow. “Your very good health, sir!” - -During the subsequent talk, in which the Major explained the terms -of the bargain as Winthrop had already learned them from Holly, the -visitor was able to look about him. The room was small and square -save for the projecting fire-place at one side. A window on the front -overlooked the street which led to Waynewood, while through another on -the side of the building Winthrop could see the court-house behind its -border of oaks, the stores across the square and, peering from behind -the court-house, the end of the Palmetto House with its long gallery. -It was Saturday, and the town looked quite busy. Ox-carts, farm wagons -drawn by mules, and broken-down buggies crawled or jogged past the -window on their way to the hitching-place. In front of the court-house, -in the shade, were half-a-dozen carts loaded with bales of cotton, and -the owners with samples in hand were making the round of the buyers. -The sidewalks were thronged with negroes, and the gay medley of the -voices came through the open window. - -[Illustration] - -A set of shelves occupied the end of the room beside the door and were -filled to overflowing with yellow law books. The mantel was crowded -with filing cases and a few tin boxes. Beside the front window a -small, old-fashioned safe held more books. Besides these there was -only the plain oak desk, two chairs and the aforementioned cupboard to -be seen, if one excepts the wall decorations in the shape of colored -advertisements and calendars and a box filled with sawdust beside the -arm-chair. The Major had tucked a greenish and very damp cigar in the -corner of his mouth, and Winthrop soon discovered the necessity for the -box. - -Presently the new rental agreement was signed and the Major, after -several abortive attempts, flung open the door of the safe and put -it carefully away in one of the compartments. Then he took up his -broad-brimmed black felt hat and reached for his cane. - -[Illustration: PRESENTLY THE NEW RENTAL AGREEMENT WAS SIGNED] - -“And now, Mr. Winthrop,” he said, “we’ll just take a walk around the -town, sir; I’d like you to meet some of our citizens, sir.” - -Winthrop good-naturedly acquiesced and preceded the Major down the -stairs. During the next hour-and-a-half Winthrop was impressively -introduced to and warmly welcomed by some two dozen of Corunna’s -foremost citizens, from ’Squire Parish, whom they discovered buying a -bale of cotton in the dim recess of his hardware store, to Mr. “Cad” -Wilson, who wiped his hand on a towel before reaching it across the bar -to add his welcome. - -“Not one of the aristocracy,” explained the Major, as they took their -way out after drinking Winthrop’s health in Bourbon, “but a gentleman -at heart, sir, in spite of his business, sir. When in need of liquid -refreshment, Mr. Winthrop, you will find his place the best in town, -sir, and you may always depend on receiving courteous treatment.” - -The post-office, toward which they bent their steps after breasting Mr. -“Cad” Wilson’s swinging doors, proved to be a veritable stamping-ground -for Corunna’s celebrities. There Winthrop was introduced to the -Reverend Mr. Fillock, the Presbyterian minister; to Mr. “Ham” Somes, -the proprietor of the principal drug store; to Colonel Byers, in from -his plantation a few miles outside of town to look up an express -shipment, and the postmaster himself, Major Warren, who displayed an -empty sleeve and, as Winthrop’s guide explained, still never took a -drink without preceding it with the toast, “Secession, sah!” - -When Colonel Byers alluded to the missing express package the Major -chuckled. - -“Colonel,” he said, “’taint another of those boxes of hardware, is it?” - -The Colonel laughed and shook his head, and the Major turned to -Winthrop with twinkling eyes. - -“You see, Mr. Winthrop, the Colonel got a box of hardware by express -some years ago; from Savannah, wan’t it, Colonel?” - -“Atlanta, sir.” - -“Well, anyhow, the Colonel was busy and didn’t get into town right -away, and one day he got a letter from the express agent, saying: -‘Please call for your box of hardware as it’s leaking all over the -floor.’” - -The Colonel appeared to enjoy the story quite as much as the Major, and -Winthrop found their mirth quite as laugh-provoking as the tale. - -“And I have heard that the Colonel never got to town in as quick time -as he did then!” - -“Morning, Harry,” said the Major, turning to the newcomer. “I reckon -you heard just about right, Harry. I want to introduce you to my friend -Mr. Winthrop, of New York, sir. Mr. Winthrop, shake hands with Mr. -Bartow. Mr. Bartow, sir, represents us at the Capital.” - -“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, sir,” said the Honorable Mr. -Bartow. “You are staying with us for awhile, sir?” - -“Yes, probably for a few months,” replied Winthrop. - -“Good, sir; I am pleased to hear it. You must give me the pleasure of -taking dinner with me some day, sir. I’ll get the Major to arrange it -at your convenience.” - -“And bring Mr. Winthrop out to Sunnyside, Lucius,” said the Colonel. -“Some Sunday would be best, I reckon.” - -Winthrop accepted the invitations――or perhaps the Major did it for -him――and after shaking hands with the Colonel and the Honorable -Harry Bartow he was conducted forth by his guide. Their course along -the sunlit street was often interrupted, and Winthrop’s list of -acquaintances grew with each interruption. It was quite evident that -being vouched for by Major Lucius Quintus Cass stood for a good deal, -and in every case Winthrop’s welcome was impressively courteous. -Once or twice the Major was stopped by men to whom Winthrop was not -introduced. After one such occasion the Major said, as they went on: - -“Not one of our kind, Mr. Winthrop; his acquaintance would be of no -benefit, sir.” - -Winthrop noticed that not once did the Major in his introductions -allude to the former’s ownership of Waynewood. And evidently the Major -concluded that the fact required elucidation, for when they had finally -returned to the corner where stood the Major’s office the latter said: - -“You may have observed, Mr. Winthrop, that I have not mentioned your -ownership of Waynewood. I thought it as well not to, sir, for as you -do not intend to take possession this winter there can be no harm in -allowing folks to remain in ignorance of――ah――the change. It will make -it much easier, sir, for Miss India and her niece. You agree with me?” - -“Entirely,” replied Winthrop, suppressing a smile. “We will keep the -fact a secret for awhile, Major.” - -“Quite so, sir, quite so. And now, sir, I should be delighted if you -would take dinner with me at the hotel, if you will be so kind.” - -But Winthrop declined and, thanking the other for his kindness, shook -hands and turned his steps homeward, or, at least, toward Waynewood; he -had begun to doubt his possession of that place. - - - - -VIII. - - -Winthrop had been at Waynewood a week――a week of which one day had -been so like the next that Winthrop remembered them all with impartial -haziness and content. It was delightful to have nothing more startling -to look forward to than a quail-shoot, a dinner at Sunnyside, or a game -of whist in town; to have each day as alike in mellowness and sunshine -as they were similar in events, pass softly across the garden, from -shadow to shadow, the while he watched its passage with tranquilly -smiling eyes and inert body from the seat under the magnolia or a chair -on the quiet porch. - -The past became the flimsiest of ghosts, the future a mere insignificant -speck on the far horizon. What mattered it that once his heart had -ached? That he was practically penniless? That somewhere men were -hurrying and striving for wealth? The sky was hazily blue, the sunlight -was wine of gold, the southern breeze was the soothing touch of a soft -and fragrant hand that bade him rest and sleep, for there was no -yesterday and no morrow, and the taste of lotus was sweet in his mouth. -The mornings danced brightly past to the lilt of bird song; the -afternoons paced more leisurely, crossing the tangled garden with -measured, somnolent tread so quiet that not a leaf stirred, not a bird -chirped in the enfolding silence; the evenings grew from purple haze, -fragrant with wood-smoke, to blue-black clarity set with a million -silver stars whose soft radiance bathed the still world with tender -light. Such days and such nights have a spell, and Winthrop was bound. - -And Holly? Fate, although she was still unsuspecting of the fact, -had toppled the stone into the stream and the ripples were already -widening. Winthrop’s coming had been an event. Holly had her friends, -girls of her own age, who came to Waynewood to see her and whom she -visited in town, and young men in the early twenties who walked or -drove out in the evenings, when their duties in the stores and offices -were over, and made very chivalrous and distant love to her in the -parlor. But for all that many of the days had been long with only -Aunt India, who was not exactly chatty, and the servants to talk to. -But now it was different. This charming and delightfully inexplicable -Northerner was fair prey. He was never too busy to listen to her; -in fact, he was seldom busy at all, unless sitting, sometimes with -a closed book in one’s lap, and gazing peacefully into space may be -termed being busy. They had quite exciting mornings together very -often, exciting, at least, for Holly, when she unburdened herself of -a wealth of reflections and conclusions and when he listened with the -most agreeable attention in the world and always said just the right -thing to tempt her tongue to more brilliant ardor. - -And then in the afternoons, while Aunt India slept and Holly couldn’t, -just because the blood ran far too fast in her young veins, there -were less stimulating but very comforting talks in the shade of the -porch. And sometimes they walked, but,――for Holly had inherited -the characteristic disinclination for overindulgence in that form -of exercise,――not very frequently. Holly would have indorsed the -proverb――Persian, isn’t it?――which says, in part, that it is easier to -sit than to stand and easier to lie down than to sit. And Winthrop at -this period would have agreed with her. Judged by Northern standards, -Holly might have been deemed lazy. But we must remember that Holly came -of people who had never felt the necessity of physical exertion, since -there had always been slaves at hand to perform the slightest task, and -for whom the climate had prohibited any inclination in that direction. -Holly’s laziness was that of a kitten, which seldom goes out to walk -for pleasure but which will romp until its breath is gone or stalk a -sparrow for an hour untiringly. - -By the end of the first week she and Winthrop had become the very good -friends they had agreed to be. They had reached the point where it was -no longer necessary to preface their conversation with an introduction. -Now when Holly had anything to say――and she usually did――she plunged -right in without any preliminary shivers. As this morning when, -having given out the supplies for the day to Aunt Venus, she joined -Winthrop under the magnolia, settling her back against the trunk and -clasping her hands about her knees, “I reckon there are two sides to -everything,” she said, with the air of one who is announcing the result -of long study. - -Winthrop, who had arisen at her approach and remained standing until -she had seated herself, settled back again and smiled encouragingly. -He liked to hear her talk, liked the soft coo of her voice, liked the -things she said, liked, besides, to watch the play of expression on her -face. - -“Father always said that the Yankees had no right to interfere with -the South and that it wasn’t war with them, it was just homicide. -Homicide’s where you kill someone else, isn’t it? I always get it mixed -up with suicide.” - -Winthrop nodded. - -“That’s what he used to say, and I’m sure he believed it or he’d never -have said it. But maybe he was mistaken. Was he, do you think?” - -“He might have been a trifle biased,” said Winthrop. - -Holly was silent a moment. Then―――― - -“Uncle Major,” she continued, “used to argue with him, but father -always had the best of it. I reckon, though, you Northerners are sorry -now, aren’t you?” - -“Sorry that there was war, yes,” answered Winthrop, smilingly; “but not -sorry for what we did.” - -“But if it was wrong?” argued Holly. “’Pears to me you ought to be -sorry! Just see the heaps and heaps of trouble you made for the South! -Julian says that you ought to have paid us for every negro you took -away from us.” - -“Indeed? And who, may I ask, is Julian?” - -“Julian Wayne is my cousin, my second cousin. He graduated from medical -college last year. He lives in Marysville, over yonder.” Holly nodded -vaguely toward the grove. - -“Practising, is he?” - -“He’s Dr. Thompson’s assistant,” said Holly. “He’s getting experience. -After awhile he’s going to come to Corunna.” There was a pause. “He’s -coming over to-morrow to spend Sunday.” - -“Really? And does he make these trips very often?” - -“Oh, every now and then,” answered Holly, carelessly. - -“Perhaps there is an attraction hereabouts,” suggested Winthrop. - -“Maybe it’s Aunt India,” said Holly, gravely. - -Winthrop laughed. - -“Is he nice, this Cousin Julian?” he asked. - -Holly nodded. - -“He’s a dear boy. He’s very young yet, only twenty-three.” - -“And eighteen from twenty-three leaves five,” teased Winthrop. “I’ve -heard, I think, that ten is the ideal disparity in years for purposes -of marriage, but doubtless five isn’t to be sneezed at.” - -Holly’s smooth cheeks reddened a little. - -“A girl ought to marry a man much older than herself,” she said, -decisively. - -“Oh! Then Julian won’t do?” - -“I haven’t decided,” Holly laughed. “Maybe. He’s nice. I wonder if -you’ll like him. Will you try to, please? He――he’s awfully down on -Northerners, though.” - -“That’s bad,” said Winthrop, seriously. “Perhaps he won’t approve of -me. Do you think I’d better run away over Sunday? I might go out to -visit Colonel Byers; he’s asked me.” - -“Silly!” said Holly. “He won’t eat you!” - -“Well, that’s comforting. I’ll stay, then. The dislike of Northerners -seems to be a strong trait in your family, Miss Holly.” - -“Oh, some Northerners are quite nice,” she answered, with a challenging -glance. - -“I wonder,” he asked, with intense diffidence, “I wonder――if I’m -included among the quite nice ones?” - -“What do you think, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Well, I’ve always thought rather well of myself until I came to -Corunna. But now that I have learned just how poor a lot Northerners -are, I find myself rather more modest.” - -Winthrop sighed depressedly. - -“I’ll change it,” said Holly, her eyes dancing. “I’ll say instead that -_one_ Northerner is very nice.” - -“You said ‘quite nice’ before.” - -“That just shows that I like you better every minute,” laughed the girl. - -Winthrop sighed. - -“It’s a dangerous course you’re pursuing, Miss Holly,” he said, sadly. -“If you aren’t awfully careful you’ll lose a good slave and find a poor -admirer.” - -“My admirers must be my slaves, too,” answered Holly. - -“I am warned. I thank you. I could never play a dual rôle, I fear.” - -Holly pouted. - -“Then which do you choose?” she asked, aggrievedly. - -“To be your slave, my dear young lady; I fancy that rôle would be more -becoming to middle-age and, at all events, far less hazardous.” - -“But if I command you to admire me you’ll have to, you see; slaves must -obey.” - -“I haven’t waited for the command,” replied Winthrop. - -“You blow hot and cold, sir. First you refuse to be my admirer and then -you declare that you do admire me. What am I to believe?” - -“That my heart and brain are at war, Miss Holly. My heart says: ‘Down -on your knees!’ but my brain says: ‘Don’t you do it, my boy; she’ll -lead you a dance that your aged limbs won’t take kindly to, and in the -end she’ll run out of your sight, laughing, leaving you to sorrow and -liniment!” - -“You have as good as called me a coquette, Mr. Winthrop,” charged -Holly, severely. - -“Have I? And, pray, what have you been doing for the last ten minutes -but coquetting with me, young lady? Tell me that.” - -“Have I?” asked Holly, with a soft little laugh. “Do you mind?” - -“Mind? On the contrary, do you know, I rather like it? So go right -ahead; you are keeping your hand in, and at the same time flattering -the vanity of one who has reached the age when to be used even for -target practice is flattering.” - -“Your age troubles you a great deal, doesn’t it?” asked Holly, -ironically. “Please, why do you always remind me of it? Are you afraid -that I’ll lose my heart to you and that you’ll have to refuse me?” - -“Well, you have seen me for a week,” answered Winthrop, modestly, “and -know my irresistible charm.” - -Holly was silent a moment, her brown eyes fixed speculatively on the -man’s smiling face. Then―――― - -“You must feel awfully safe,” she said, with conviction, “to talk the -way you do. And I reckon I know why.” - -“And may I know, too?” - -“No; that is, you do know already, and I’m not going to tell you. Oh, -what time is it, please?” - -Winthrop drew out his watch and then, with a shrug, dropped it back -into his pocket. - -“I can’t tell you. The fact is, I forgot to wind it last night. Why -should I wind it, anyhow? What does it matter what time it is in this -place? If the sun is there, I know it’s morning; if it’s somewhere -overhead, I know it’s noon; when it drops behind the trees, I know -it’s evening; when it disappears, I know it’s night――and I go to -sleep. Watches and clocks are anachronisms here. Like arctics and fur -overcoats.” - -“I shall go and find out,” said Holly, rising. - -“Why waste time and effort in the pursuit of unprofitable knowledge?” -sighed Winthrop. But he received no answer, for his companion was -already making her way through the garden. Winthrop laid his head -back against the tree and, with half-closed eyes, smiled lazily and -contentedly up into the brown-and-green leafage above. And as he did -so a thought came to him, a most ridiculous, inappropriate thought, a -veritable serpent-in-Eden thought; he wondered what “A. S. common” was -selling for! He drove the thought away angrily. What nonsense! If he -wasn’t careful he’d find himself trying to remember the amount of his -balance in bank! Odd what absurd turns the mind was capable of! Well, -the only way to keep his mind away from idle speculation was to turn -his thoughts toward serious and profitable subjects. So he wondered why -the magnolia leaves were covered with green satin on top and tan velvet -beneath. But before he had arrived at any conclusion Holly came back, -bearing a glass containing a milky-white liquid and a silver spoon. - -[Illustration] - -“It’s past the time,” she said. - -“Then you shouldn’t have bothered to bring it,” answered Winthrop, -regretfully. “But never mind; we’ll try and remember it at supper time.” - -“But you must take it now,” persisted Holly, firmly. - -“But I fear it wouldn’t do any good. You see, your Aunt said distinctly -an hour before meals. The psychological moment has passed, greatly to -my rel――regret.” - -“Please!” said Holly, holding the glass toward him. “You know it’s -doing you heaps of good.” - -“Yes, but that’s just it, don’t you see, Miss Holly? If I continue to -take it I’ll be quite well in no time, and that would never do. Would -you deprive your Aunt of the pleasure she is now enjoying of dosing me -thrice a day with the most nauseous mixture that was ever invented?” - -“Shucks! It isn’t so terribly bad,” laughed Holly. - -Winthrop observed her sternly. - -“Have you sampled it, may I ask?” - -Holly shook her head. - -“Then please do so. It will do you lots of good, besides preventing you -from making any more well-meant but inaccurate remarks. And you have -been looking a bit pale the last day or two, Miss Holly.” - -Holly viewed the mixture dubiously, hesitatingly. - -“Besides, you said ‘Shucks,’ and you owe yourself punishment.” - -“Well――――” Holly swallowed a spoonful, tried not to shiver, and -absolutely succeeded in smiling brightly afterwards. - -“Well?” asked Winthrop, anxiously. - -“I――I think it has calomel in it,” said Holly. - -“I feared it.” He shook his head and warded off the proffered glass. “I -am a homœopath.” - -“You’re a baby, that’s what you are!” said Holly, tauntingly. - -“Ha! No one shall accuse me of cowardice.” He clenched his hands. -“Administer it, please.” - -Holly moved toward him until her skirt brushed his knees. As she dipped -the spoon a faint flush crept into her cheeks. Winthrop saw, and -understood. - -“No, give it to me,” he said. “I will feed myself. Then, no matter what -happens――and I fear the worst!――you will not be implicated.” - -Holly yielded the glass and moved back, watching him sympathetically -while he swallowed two spoonfuls of the medicine. - -“Was it awfully bad?” she asked, as he passed the glass to her with a -shudder. - -Winthrop reflected. Then: - -“Frankly, it was,” he replied. “But it’s a good deal like having your -teeth filled; it’s almost worth it for the succeeding glow of courage -and virtue and relief it brings. Put it out of sight, please, and let -us talk of pleasant things.” - -“What?” asked Holly, as she sat down once more on the bench. - -“Well, let me see. Suppose, Miss Holly, you tell me how you came to -have such a charming and unusual name.” - -“My mother gave it to me,” answered Holly, softly. “She was very fond -of holly.” - -“I beg your pardon,” exclaimed Winthrop. “It was an impertinent -question.” - -“Oh, no. My mother only lived a little while after I was born――about -five weeks. She died on New Year’s morning. On Christmas Day father -picked a spray of holly from one of the bushes down by the road. It -was quite full of red berries and so pretty that he took it in to my -mother. Father said she took it in her hands and cried a little over -it, and he was sorry he had brought it to her. They had laid me beside -her in the bed and presently she placed the holly sprig over me and -kissed me and looked at father. She couldn’t talk very much then. -But father understood what she meant. ‘Holly?’ he asked, and mother -smiled, and――and that was ‘how come.’” Holly, her hands clasped between -her knees, looked gravely and tenderly away across the sunny garden. -Winthrop kept silence for a moment. Then―――― - -“I fancy they loved each other very dearly, your father and mother,” he -said. - -“Oh, they did!” breathed Holly. “Father used to tell me――about it. He -always said I was just like my mother. It――it must have been beautiful. -Do you reckon,” she continued wistfully, “people love that way -nowadays?” - -“To-day, yesterday, and to-morrow,” answered Winthrop. “The great -passions――love, hate, acquisitiveness――are the same now as in the -beginning, and will never change while the earth spins around. I hope, -Miss Holly, that the years will bring you as great a love and as happy -a one as your mother’s.” - -Holly viewed him pensively a moment. Then a little flush crept into her -cheeks and she turned her head away. - -“No,” she said, “I’m not dear and sweet and gentle like my mother. -Besides, maybe I’d never find a man like my father.” - -“Perhaps not,” replied Winthrop, “although I hope you will. But even -if not, I wouldn’t despair. Love is a very wonderful magician, who -transmutes clay into gold, transforms baseness into nobility, and -changes caitiffs into kings.” He laughed amusedly. “Great Scott! I’m -actually becoming rhetorical! It’s this climate of yours, Miss Holly; -there is something magical about it; it creeps into one’s veins like -wine and makes one’s heart thump at the sound of a bird’s song. Why, -hang it, in another week I shall find myself singing love songs under -your window on moonlight nights!” - -“Oh, that would be lovely!” cried Holly, clapping her hands. “I haven’t -been serenaded for the longest time!” - -“Do you mean that such things are really done here?” - -“Of course! The boys often serenade. When I came home from the -Academy, Julian and a lot of them serenaded me. It was a white, white -night and they stood over there under my windows; I remember how black -their shadows were on the path. Julian and Jim Stuart played guitars -and some of the others had banjos, and it was heavenly!” - -“And such things still happen in this prematurely-aged, materialistic -world!” marvelled Winthrop. “It sounds like a fairy tale!” - -“I reckon it sounds silly to you,” said Holly. - -“Silly! Oh, my dear young lady, if you could only realize how very, -very rich you are!” - -“Rich?” - -“Yes, rich and wise with the unparalleled wealth and wisdom of -Youth! Hearken to the words of Age and Experience, Miss Holly,” he -continued, half jestingly, half seriously. “The world belongs to -you and your kind; it is the Kingdom of Youth. The rest of us are -here on sufferance; but you belong. The world tolerates Age, but to -Youth it owes allegiance and love. But your days are short in your -kingdom, O Queen, so make the most of them; laugh and play and love -and _live_; above all, live! And above all be extravagant, extravagant -of laughter――and of tears; extravagant of affection; run the gamut of -life every hour; be mad, be foolish――but _live_! And so when the World -thrusts you to one side, saying: ‘The King is dead! Long live the -King!’ you will have no regrets for a wasted reign, but can say: ‘While -I ruled, I lived!’” - -“I――I don’t understand――quite!” faltered Holly. - -“Because you are too wise.” - -“I reckon you mean too stupid,” mourned Holly. - -“Too wise. You are Youth, and Youth is Perfect Wisdom. When you grow -old you will know more but be less wise. And the longer you live the -more learning will come to you and the more wisdom will depart. And -in proof of this I point to myself as an example. For no wise person -would try to convince Youth of its wisdom.” Winthrop stopped and drew -his cigarette-case from his pocket. When he had lighted a cigarette he -smiled quizzically across at the girl’s sober, half-averted face. “It’s -very warm, isn’t it?” he asked, with a little laugh. - -But Holly made no reply for a minute. Then she turned a troubled face -toward him. - -“Why did you say that?” she cried. “You’ve made me feel sad!” - -With a gesture of contrition Winthrop reached across and laid his hand -for an instant on hers. - -“My dear, I am sorry; forget it if it troubles you; I have been talking -nonsense, sheer nonsense.” - -But she shook her head, examining his face gravely. - -“No, I don’t reckon you have; but――I don’t understand quite what you -mean. Only――――” She paused, and presently asked: - -“Didn’t you live when you ruled? Are you regretting?” - -Winthrop shrugged his shoulders. - -“That,” he answered, smilingly, “is the sorry part of it; one always -regrets. Come, let’s go in to dinner. I heard the bell, didn’t I?” - - - - -IX. - - -Winthrop thought that he could like Julian Wayne if that youth would -let him. But it was evident from the moment of their first meeting -that Julian wasn’t going to allow anything of the sort. He arrived -at Waynewood Saturday night, and Winthrop, who had spent the evening -with the Major at ’Squire Parish’s house, did not meet him until -Sunday morning. He was tall, dark haired and sallow complexioned, -and as handsome as any youth Winthrop had ever seen. His features -were regular, with a fine, straight nose, wide eyes, a strong chin -and a good, somewhat tense, mouth that matched with the general air -of imperiousness he wore. Winthrop soon discovered that Julian Wayne -retained undiminished the old Southern doctrine of caste and that he -looked upon the new member of the Waynewood household with a polite -but very frank contempt. He was ardent, impetuous, and arrogant, but -they were traits of youth rather than of character, and Winthrop, -for his part, readily forgave them. That he was head-over-heels in -love with Holly was evident from the first, and Winthrop could have -liked him the more for that. But Julian’s bearing was discouraging -to any notions of friendship which Winthrop might have entertained. -For Winthrop breakfast――which Miss India attended, as was her usual -custom on Sundays――was an uncomfortable meal. He felt very much like an -intruder, in spite of the fact that both Miss India and Holly strove to -include him in the conversation, and he was relieved when it was over. - -Julian imperiously claimed Holly’s companionship and the two went -out to the front porch. Miss India attended to the matter of dinner -supplies, and then returned to her room to dress for church. Being cut -off from the porch, Winthrop went up-stairs and took a chair and a -book out on to the gallery. But the voices of the two below came up to -him in a low, eager hum, interspersed with occasional words, and drew -his mind from the book. He was a little disappointed in Julian Wayne, -he told himself. He could have wished a different sort of a man for -Holly’s husband. And then he laughed at himself for inconsistency. Only -two days before he had been celebrating just the youthful traits which -Julian exhibited. Doubtless the boy would make her a very admirable -mate. At least, he was thoroughly in love with her. Winthrop strove to -picture the ideal husband for Holly and found himself all at sea on the -instant, and ended by wondering whimsically how long he would allow -Julian undisputed possession of her if he were fifteen――even ten――years -younger! - -Later they all walked to church, Julian and Holly leading the way, as -handsome a couple as had ever passed under the whispering oak-trees, -and Winthrop and Miss India pacing staidly along behind――at a discreet -interval. Miss India’s bearing toward him amused Winthrop even while -it piqued him. She was the most kind, most courteous little woman in -the world to him, displaying a vast interest in and sympathy for his -invalidism, and keeping an anxious watch over his goings and comings -in the fear that he would overtax his strength. And yet all the while -Winthrop knew as well as he knew his name that she resented his -ownership of her home and would be vastly relieved at his departure. -And knowing this, he, on every possible occasion, set himself to win -the little lady’s liking, with, he was forced to acknowledge, scant -prospect of success. - -Winthrop sat between Miss India and Holly, with Julian at the end of -the pew. It was his first sight of the little, unadorned Episcopal -church, for he had not accompanied the ladies the previous Sunday. It -was a plain, uncompromising interior in which he found himself. The -bare white walls were broken only by big, small-paned windows of plain -glass. The pews were of yellow pine and the pulpit and stiff chairs on -either side were of the same. The only note of decoration was found in -the vase of roses which stood beside the big closed Bible. A cottage -organ supplied the music. But there was color in the congregation, -for the younger women wore their best dresses and finest hats, and -Winthrop concluded that all Corunna was at church. For awhile he -interested himself in discovering acquaintances, many of them scarcely -recognizable to-day in their black coats and air of devoutness. But -the possibilities of that mode of amusement were soon exhausted, since -the Wayne pew was well past the middle of the church. After the sermon -began Winthrop listened to it for awhile. Probably it was a very -excellent and passably interesting sermon, but the windows were wide -open and the languorous air waved softly, warmly in, and Winthrop’s -eyes grew heavier and heavier and the pulpit mistier and mistier and -the parson’s voice lower and lower and.... - -He opened his eyes very suddenly, for Holly had reached forth and -brought the toe of her shoe into sharp contact with his ankle. He -turned to find her watching him with grave face and laughing eyes, and -he looked his thanks. Then his eyes roved by to encounter the hostile -stare of Julian, who had witnessed the incident and was jealously -resenting the intimacy it denoted. - -After church the party delayed at the door to greet their friends. -Julian, with the easy courtesy that so well became him, shook hands -with fully half the congregation, answering and asking questions in his -pleasant, well-bred drawl. Winthrop wondered pessimistically if he had -in mind the fact that in another year or so he would be dependent on -these persons for his bread and butter. But Julian’s punctiliousness -gave Winthrop his chance. Miss India and Holly had finished their share -of the social event and had walked slowly out on to the porch, followed -by Winthrop. Presently Julian emerged through the door in conversation -with Mrs. Somes, and Winthrop turned to Holly. - -“There comes your cousin,” he said. “Shall we start on ahead and let -them follow?” - -There was a little flicker of surprise in the brown eyes, followed by -the merest suggestion of a smile. Then Holly moved toward the steps and -Winthrop ranged himself beside her. - -“A little discipline now and then has a salutary effect, Miss Holly,” -he remarked, as they passed out through the gate. - -“Oh, are you doing this for discipline?” asked Holly, innocently. - -“I am doing it to please myself, discipline your cousin, and――well, I -don’t know what the effect on you may be.” - -“I believe you’re hinting for compliments, Mr. Winthrop!” - -“Maybe; I’ve been feeling strangely frivolous of late. By the way, -please accept my undying gratitude for that kick.” - -“You ought to be grateful,” answered Holly, with a laugh. “In another -moment your head would have been on Auntie’s shoulder and――I hope you -don’t snore, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Heavens! Was it as bad as that? I _am_ grateful! Fancy your Aunt’s -horror!” And Winthrop laughed at the thought. - -“Oh, Auntie would have just thought you’d fainted and had you carried -home and put to bed,” said Holly. - -“I wonder how much you know?” mused Winthrop, turning to look down into -her demure face. - -“About what, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“About my――my invalidism.” - -“Why, you’re a very sick man, of course,” replied Holly. “Auntie is -quite worried about you at times.” - -Winthrop laughed. - -“But you’re not, I suspect. I fancy you have guessed that I am -something of an impostor. Have you?” - -“Mh-mh,” assented Holly, smilingly. - -“I thought so; you’ve been so fearfully attentive with that――lovely -medicine of late. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself to cause me so much -affliction?” - -“Aren’t you ashamed to impose on two unsuspecting ladies?” - -“Well, seeing that I haven’t fooled you I don’t think you need to -say ‘two.’ But I’m not altogether to blame, Miss Holly. It was that -scheming Uncle Major of yours that beguiled me into it. He declared up -and down that if I wanted to remain at Waynewood the only thing to do -was to continue being an invalid. And now――well, now I don’t dare get -well!” - -Holly laughed gayly. - -“If you had owned up before, you would have been spared a good many -doses of medicine,” she said. “It was lots of fun to make you take it! -But now I don’t reckon I’ll have the heart to any more.” - -“Bless you for those words!” said Winthrop, devoutly. “That infernal -medicine has been the one fly in my ointment, the single crumbled leaf -in my bed of roses. Hereafter I shall be perfectly happy. That is, if I -survive the day. I fancy your cousin may call me out before he leaves -and put a bullet into me.” - -“Why?” asked Holly, innocently. - -“Jealousy, my dear young lady. Haven’t I carried you off from under his -nose?” - -“I don’t reckon I’d have gone if I hadn’t wanted to,” said Holly, with -immense dignity. - -“That makes it all the worse, don’t you see? He is convinced by this -time that I have designs on you and looks upon me as a hated rival. I -can feel his eyes boring gimlet-holes in my back this moment.” - -“It will do him good,” said Holly, with a little toss of her head. - -“That’s what I thought,” said Winthrop. “But I doubt if he is capable -of taking the same sensible view of it.” - -“I’m afraid you don’t like him,” said Holly, regretfully. - -“My dear Miss Holly,” he expostulated, “he doesn’t give me a chance. -I am as dirt under his feet. I think I might like him if he’d give me -chance. He’s as handsome a youngster as I’ve ever seen, and I fancy -I can trace a strong resemblance between him and the portrait of your -father in the parlor; the eyes are very like.” - -“Others have said that,” answered Holly, “but I never could see the -resemblance; I wish I could.” - -“I assure you it’s there.” - -“Julian is very silly,” said Holly, warmly. “And I shall tell him so.” - -“Pray don’t,” begged Winthrop. “He doubtless already dislikes me quite -heartily enough.” - -“He has no right to be rude to you.” - -Winthrop smiled ruefully. - -“But he isn’t; that’s the worst of it! He’s scrupulously polite――just -as one would be polite to the butler or the man from the butcher’s! -No, don’t call him to account, please; we shall get on well enough, he -and I. Maybe when he discovers that I am not really trying to steal -you away from him he will come off his high horse. I suppose, however, -that the real reason for it all is that he resents my intrusion at -Waynewood――quite in the popular manner.” - -He regretted the latter remark the instant he had made it, for Holly -turned a distressed countenance toward him. - -“Oh, have we been as bad as all that?” she cried, softly. “I’m so -sorry! But really and really you mustn’t think that we don’t like you -to be at Waynewood! You won’t, will you? Please don’t! Why, I――I have -been so happy since you came!” - -“Bless you,” answered Winthrop, lightly, “I really meant nothing. And -if you are willing to put up with me, why, the others don’t matter at -all. But I’m awfully glad to know that you haven’t found me a bother, -Miss Holly.” - -“How could I? You’ve been so nice and――and chummy! I shan’t want you -to go away,” she added, sorrowfully. “I feel just as though you were a -nice, big elder brother.” - -“That’s just what I am,” replied Winthrop, heartily, “a big elder -brother――_and_ a slave――and _always_ an admirer.” - -“And I shall tell Julian so,” added Holly. - -“I wouldn’t, really.” - -“But why?” - -“Oh, well, you’ll just make him more jealous and unhappy, my dear. Or, -at least, that’s the effect it would have on me were I in his place, -and I fancy lovers are much the same North and South.” - -“Jealousy is nasty,” said Holly, sententiously. - -“Many of our most human sentiments are,” responded Winthrop dryly, “but -we can’t help them.” - -Holly was silent a moment. Then―――― - -“Would you mind not calling me ‘my dear’?” she asked. - -“Have I done that? I believe I have. I beg your pardon, Miss Holly! -Really, I had no intention of being――what shall I say?――familiar.” - -“Oh, it isn’t that,” replied Holly earnestly, “but it makes me feel so -terribly young! If you’d like to call me Holly, you may.” - -“Thank you,” answered Winthrop as they entered the gate and passed into -the noonday twilight of the oleander path. “But that is a privilege I -don’t deserve, at all events, not yet. Perhaps some day, maybe the day -I dance at your wedding, I’ll accept the honor.” - -“Just see how many, many roses are out!” cried Holly. - -They went on to the house in silence. - -Dinner was a pleasanter meal for Winthrop than breakfast had been, -principally because the Major and a Miss Virginia Parish, a maiden lady -of uncertain age and much charm of manners, were present. The Major -observed and resented Julian’s polite disregard of Winthrop and after -dinner took him to task for it. The ladies were in the parlor, Winthrop -had gone up-stairs to get some cigars, and the Major and Julian were at -the end of the porch. It was perhaps unfortunate that Winthrop should -have been forced to overhear a part of the conversation under his -window. - -“You don’t treat the gentleman with common civility,” remonstrated the -Major, warmly. - -“I am not aware that I have been discourteous to him,” responded Julian -in his drawling voice. - -The Major spluttered. - -“Gad, sir, what do you mean by discourteous? You can’t turn your back -on a man at his own table without being discourteous! Confound it, sir, -remember that you’re under his roof!” - -“I do remember it,” answered Julian quickly. “I’m not likely to forget -it, sir. But how did it become his roof? How did he get hold of it? -Some damned Yankee trick, I’ll wager; stole it, as like as not!” - -“Tut, tut, sir! What language is that, Julian? Mr. Winthrop――――” - -But Winthrop waited to hear no more. With the cigars he joined them -on the porch, finding the Major very red of face and looking somewhat -like an insulted turkey-cock, and Julian with a sombre sneer on his -dark face. Julian declined the proffered cigar and presently left the -others alone, taking himself off in search of Holly. The Major waved a -hand after him, and scowled angrily. - -“Just like his father,” he grunted. “Hot-headed, stubborn, badly -balanced, handsome as the devil and bound to come just such a cropper -in the end.” - -“You mean that his father was unfortunate?” asked Winthrop idly, as he -lighted his cigar. - -“Shot himself for a woman, sir. Most nonsensical proceeding I ever -heard of. The woman wasn’t worth it, sir.” - -“They seldom are,” commented Winthrop, gravely, “in the opinion of -others.” - -“She was married,” continued the Major, unheeding the remark, “and had -children; fine little tots they were, too. Husband was good as gold to -her. But she had to have Fernald Wayne to satisfy her damned vanity. I -beg your pardon, Mr. Winthrop, but I have no patience with that sort of -women, sir!” - -“You don’t understand them.” - -“I don’t want to, sir.” - -“You couldn’t if you did,” replied Winthrop. - -The Major shot a puzzled glance at him, rolling his unlighted cigar -swiftly around in the corner of his mouth. Then he deluged the -Baltimore Bell with tobacco-juice and went on: - -“Fernald was plumb out of his head about her. His own wife had been -dead some years. Nothing would do but she must run away with him. -Well――――” - -“Did the lady live here?” asked Winthrop. - -“Godamighty, no, sir! We don’t breed that kind here, sir! She lived -in New Orleans; her husband was a cotton factor there. Well, Fernald -begged her to run away with him, and after a lot of hemming and hawing -she consented. They made an appointment for one night and Fernald was -there waiting. But the lady didn’t come. After awhile he went back to -his hotel and found a note. She was sorry, but her husband had bought -tickets for the opera for that evening. Eh? What? There was soul for -you, Mr. Winthrop!” - -Winthrop nodded. - -“So the lover blew his brains out, eh?” - -“Shot a hole in his chest; amounted to about the same thing, I reckon,” -answered the Major, gloomily. “Now what do you think of a woman that’ll -do a thing like that?” - -“Well, I don’t know but what a good opera is to be preferred to an -elopement,” answered Winthrop. “There, there, Major, I don’t mean to be -flippant. The fact is we hear of so many of these ‘crimes of passion’ -up our way nowadays that we take them with the same equanimity that we -take the weather predictions. The woman was just a good sample of her -sort as the man was doubtless a good sample of his. He was lucky to be -out of it, only he didn’t realize it and so killed himself. That’s the -deuce of it, you see, Major; a man who can look a thousand fathoms into -a woman’s eyes and keep his judgment from slipping a cog is――well, he -just isn’t; he doesn’t exist! And if he did you and I, Major, wouldn’t -have anything to do with him.” - -“Shucks!” grunted the Major, half in agreement, half in protest. - -“But I hope this boy won’t follow his father’s lead, just the same,” -said Winthrop. - -“No, no,” answered the Major, energetically; “he won’t, he won’t. -He――he’s better fitted for hard knocks than his dad was. I――we had just -had a few words and I was――ah――displeased. Shall we join the ladies -inside, Mr. Winthrop?” - -The Major drove back to town in his side-bar buggy behind his aged -gray mule at sunset, taking Miss Parish with him. Miss India retired -to her room, and Julian and Holly strolled off together down the -road. Winthrop drew the arm-chair up to the fireplace in his room and -smoked and read until supper time. At that meal only he and Holly and -Julian were present, and the conversation was confined principally -to the former two. Julian was plainly out of sorts and short of -temper; his wooing, Winthrop concluded, had not gone very well that -day. Holly seemed troubled, but whether over Julian’s unhappiness or -his impoliteness Winthrop could not guess. After supper they went -out to the porch for a while together, but Winthrop soon bade them -good-night. For some time through the opened windows he could hear the -faint squeaking of the joggling-board and the fainter hum of their low -voices. At ten Julian’s horse was brought around, and he clattered away -in the starlit darkness toward Marysville. He heard Holly closing the -door down-stairs, heard her feet patter up the uncarpeted stairway, -heard her humming a little tune under her breath. The lamp was still -lighted on his table, and doubtless the radiance of it showed under -the door, for Holly’s footsteps came nearer and nearer along the hall -until―― - -“Good-night, slave!” she called, softly. - -“Good-night, Miss Holly,” he answered. - -He heard her footsteps dying away, and finally the soft closing of a -door. Thoughtfully he refilled his pipe and went back to the chair in -front of the dying fire.... - -The ashes were cold and a chill breeze blew through the open casements. -Winthrop arose with a shiver, knocked the ashes from his pipe and -dropped it on the mantel. - -“There’s no fool like an old――like a middle-aged fool,” he muttered, as -he blew out the lamp. - - - - -X. - - -[Illustration] - -Holly’s birthday was quite an event at Waynewood. Aunt Venus outdid -herself and there never was such a dinner, from the okra soup to the -young guineas and on to the snowy syllabub and the birthday cake with -its eighteen flaring pink candles. Uncle Major was there, as were -two of Holly’s girl friends, and the little party of six proved most -congenial. Holly was in the highest spirits; everyone she knew had -been so kind to her. Aunt India had given her dimity for a new dress -and a pair of the gauziest white silk stockings that ever crackled -against the ear. The dimity was white sprinkled with little Dresden -flowers of deep pink. Holly and Rosa and Edith had spent fully an hour -before dinner in enthusiastic planning and the fate of the white dimity -was settled. It was to be made up over pale pink, and the skirt was to -be quite plain save for a single deep flounce at the bottom. Rosa had -just the pattern for it and Holly was to drive out to Bellair in a day -or so and get it. The Major had brought a blue plush case lined with -maroon satin and holding three pairs of scissors, a bodkin, and two -ribbon-runners. - -[Illustration] - -“I don’t know what those flat gimcracks are for, Holly,” he said, as -she kissed him, “but ‘Ham’ he said he reckoned you’d know what to do -with them. I told him, ‘Ham, you’re a married man and I’m a bachelor, -and don’t you go and impose on my ignorance. If there’s anything -indelicate about those instruments you take ’em out.’ But he said as -long as I didn’t see ’em in use it was all right and proper.” - -Julian had sent a tiny gold brooch and Winthrop had presented a -five-pound box of candy. Of the two the candy made the more pronounced -hit. It had come all the way from New York, and was such an imposing -affair with its light blue moire-paper box and its yards of silk -ribbon! And then the wonderful things inside! Candied violets and -rose- and chrysanthemum-petals, grapes hidden in coverings of white -cream, little squares of fruit-cake disguised as plebeian caramels, -purple raisins and white almonds buried side by side in amber glacé, -white and lavender pellets that broke to nothing in the mouth and left -a surprising and agreeable flavor of brandy, little smooth nuggets of -gold and silver and a dozen other fanciful whims of the confectioner. -The girls screamed and laughed with delight, and the Major pretended -to feel the effects of three brandy-drops and insisted on telling -Miss India about his second wife. There had been other gifts besides. -Holly’s old “mammy” had walked in, three miles, with six-guinea-eggs in -a nest of gray moss; Phœbe had gigglingly presented a yard of purple -silk “h’ar ribbon,” Aunt Venus had brought a brown checked sun-bonnet -of her own making, and even Young Tom, holding one thumb tightly -between his teeth and standing embarrassedly on one dusty yellow foot, -had brought his gift, a bundle of amulets rolled out of newspaper and -artistically dyed in beet juice. Yes, everyone had been very kind to -Holly, and her eighteenth birthday was nothing short of an occasion. - -In the afternoon Holly and Rosa and the Major piled into his buggy and -went for a ride, while Miss India retired for her nap, and Winthrop -and Edith sat on the porch. Miss Bartram was a tall, graceful, -golden-haired beauty of nineteen, with sentimental gray eyes and an -affectation of world-weariness which Winthrop found for a time rather -diverting. They perched on the joggling-board together and discussed -Holly, affinities, Julian Wayne, love, Richmond, New York, Northern -customs――which Miss Edith found very strange and bizarre――marriage in -the abstract, marriage in the concrete as concerned with Miss Edith, -flowers, Corunna, Major Cass, milk-shakes, and many other subjects. -The girl was a confirmed flirt, and Winthrop tired of her society -long before relief came in the shape of a laughing trio borne into -sight behind a jogging gray mule. After supper they played hearts, -after a fashion introduced by Miss Bartram. Whoever held the queen -of spades when a game was ended received a smudge on the face from -each of the other players, whose privilege it was to rub one finger -in the soot of the fireplace and inscribe designs on the unfortunate -one’s countenance. As the queen of spades and Major Cass developed an -affinity early in the evening the latter was a strange and fearsome -sight when the party broke up. The Major was to take Miss Edith back -to town with him, and the latter entered the buggy to a chorus of -remonstrances from the other girls. - -“Oh, don’t you go with him!” cried Rosa. “Your face will be a perfect -sight by the time you reach home!” - -“I really think, Major,” laughed Winthrop, “that maybe you’d better -wash the side of your face next to Miss Bartram.” - -“Don’t you-all worry so much,” responded the Major. “Miss Edith isn’t -saying anything, is she? She knows it’s dark and no one’s going to see -her face when she gets home. I don’t know what’s coming to the ladies -these days. When I was younger they didn’t let a little thing like a -grain of smut interfere with a kiss or two.” - -“Then don’t you let him have more than two, Edith,” said Holly. “You -heard what he said.” - -“Merely a figure of speech, ladies,” replied the Major. “I’ve heard -there wasn’t such a thing as a single kiss and I reckon there ain’t -such a thing as a pair of ’em; eh, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Always come by the dozen, as I understand it,” answered Winthrop. - -Miss Edith gave a shriek. - -“I’m powerful glad I’m not riding home with you, Mr. Winthrop!” - -“Oh, it washes off quite easily, really!” - -The buggy trundled out of sight around the corner of the drive to -an accompaniment of laughter and farewells. Miss Rosa was to spend -the night at Waynewood, and she and Holly and Winthrop returned to -the joggling-board, the girls spreading wraps over their shoulders. -There were clouds in the sky, and the air held promise of rain. -Holly was somewhat silent and soon dropped out of the conversation -altogether. Winthrop and Rosa talked of books. Neither, perhaps, was -a great reader, but they had read some books in common and these they -discussed. Winthrop liked Miss Rosa far better than Miss Bartram. -She was small, pretty in a soft-featured way, quiet of voice and -manner, and all-in-all very girlish and sweet. She was a few months -younger than Holly. She lived with her brother, Phaeton Carter, on his -plantation some eight miles out on the Quitman road. Her parents were -dead, but before their deaths, she told him wistfully, she had been all -through the North and knew Washington well. Her father had served as -Representative for two terms. She aroused Winthrop’s sympathies; there -seemed so little ahead of her; marriage perhaps some day with one of -their country neighbors, and after that a humdrum existence without any -of the glad things her young heart craved. His sympathy showed in his -voice, which could be very soft and caressing when it wanted to, and -if Rosa dreamed a little that night of an interesting Northerner with -sympathetic voice and eyes it wasn’t altogether her fault. Meanwhile -they were getting on very well, so well that they almost forgot Holly’s -existence. But they were reminded of it very suddenly. Holly jumped off -the board and seized Rosa by the hand. - -“Bed time,” she announced, shortly. - -“Oh, Holly!” cried the girl, in dismay. “Why, it can’t be half-past ten -yet!” - -“It’s very late,” declared Holly, severely. “Come along!” - -Rosa allowed herself to be dragged off the seat and into the house. -Winthrop followed. At the foot of the stairs he said good-night, -shaking hands as the custom was. - -“Good-night, Mr. Winthrop,” said Rosa, regretfully, smiling a trifle -shyly at him across the rail. - -“Good-night, Miss Carter. We’ll settle our discussion when there is no -ogress about to drag you away. Good-night, Miss Holly. I hope there’ll -be many, many more birthdays as pleasant as this one.” - -“Good-night,” answered Holly, carelessly, her hand lying limply -in his. “I’m not going to have any more birthdays――ever; I don’t -like birthdays.” The glance which accompanied the words was hard, -antagonistic. “Will you please lock the door, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“I’m sorry,” thought Winthrop, as he made his way to his room. “She’s -only a child, and a child’s friendship is very jealous. I should have -remembered that.” - -[Illustration] - -Miss Rosa returned to Bellair the next afternoon, and with her -departure Holly’s spirits returned. Winthrop smiled and sighed at the -same time. It was all so palpable, so childish and――so sweet. There was -the disturbing thought. Why should he find his heart warming at the -contemplation of Holly’s tiny fit of jealousy? Was he really going to -make a fool of himself and spoil their pleasant comradeship by falling -in love with her? What arrant nonsense! It was the silly romantic -atmosphere that was doing the mischief! Hang it all, a man could fall -in love with an Alaskan totem-pole here if he was in company with -it for half an hour! There were three very excellent reasons why he -mustn’t let himself fall in love with Holly Wayne, and it was plainly -his duty to keep a watch on himself. With that thought in mind he -spent more time away from Waynewood than theretofore, throwing himself -on the companionship of the Major, who was always delighted to have -him drop in at his office or at the Palmetto House, where he lived; -or riding out to Sunnyside to spend the day with Colonel Byers. The -Major had loaned him a shotgun, an antiquated 12-bore, and with this -and ’Squire Parish’s red setter Lee, he spent much time afield and had -some excellent sport with the quail. Holly accused him many times of -being tired of her company, adding once that she was sorry she wasn’t -as entertaining as Rosa Carter, whereupon Winthrop reiterated his vows -of fealty, but declared that his lazy spell had passed, that he was at -last acclimated and no longer satisfied with sweet inaction. And Holly -professed to believe him, but in her heart was sure that the fault lay -with her and decided that when she was married to Julian she would make -him take her travelling everywhere so that she could talk as well as -Rosa. - -[Illustration] - -December came in with a week of rainy days, during which the last of -the roses were beaten from their stalks and the garden drooped dank and -disconsolate. Blue violets, moist and fragrant under their dripping -leaves, were the only blooms the garden afforded those days. Holly, to -whose pagan spirit enforced confinement in-doors brought despair, took -advantage of every lift of the clouds to don a linen cluster, which -she gravely referred to as her rain-coat, and her oldest sun-bonnet, -and get out amidst the drenched foliage. Those times she searched the -violet-beds and returned wet and triumphant to the house. Winthrop -coming back from a tramp to town one afternoon rounded the curve of -the carriage-road just as she regained the porch. - -“Violets?” he asked, his eyes travelling from the little cluster of -blossoms and leaves in her hand to the soft pink of her cool, moist -cheeks. - -“Yes, for the guest chamber,” answered Holly. - -“You are expecting a visitor?” he asked, his thoughts turning to Julian -Wayne. - -“Stupid!” said Holly. “Your room is the guest room. Didn’t you know it? -Wait, please, and I’ll put them in water for you.” - -[Illustration] - -She came back while Winthrop was taking off his rain-coat. The violets -were nodding over the rim of a little glass. Winthrop thanked her and -bore them up-stairs. The next morning Holly came from her Aunt’s room, -the door of which was opposite Winthrop’s across the broad hall. His -door was wide open and on the bureau stood the violets well in the -angle of a two-fold photograph frame of crimson leather. Holly paused -in the middle of the hall and looked. It was difficult to see the -photographs, but one was the likeness of a child, while the other, in -deeper shadow, seemed to be that of a woman. She had never been in -the room since Winthrop had taken possession, but this morning the -desire to enter was strong. She listened, glancing apprehensively at -the closed door of her Aunt’s room. There was no danger from that -direction, and she knew that Winthrop had gone to the village. -Fearsomely, with thumping heart and cheeks that alternately paled and -flushed, she stole across the floor to the bureau. Clasping her hands -behind her, lest they should unwittingly touch something, she leaned -over and examined the two portraits. The one on the left was that -of a young woman of perhaps twenty-two years. So beautiful was the -smiling oval face with its great dark eyes that Holly almost gasped -as she looked. The dress, of white shimmering satin, was cut low, and -the shoulders and neck were perfect. A rope of small pearls encircled -the round throat and in the light hair, massed high on the head, an -aigrette tipped with pearls lent a regal air to beauty. Holly looked -long, sighing she scarcely knew why. Finally she drew her eyes away and -examined the other photograph, that of a sturdy little chap of four or -five years, his feet planted wide apart and his chubby hands holding -tight to the hoop that reached to his breast. Round-faced, grave-eyed -and curly-haired, he was yet a veritable miniature of Winthrop. But -the eyes were strongly like those in the other picture, and Holly had -no doubts as to the identity of each subject. Holly drew away, gently -restored a fallen violet, and hurried guiltily from the room. - -Winthrop did not return for dinner that day, but sent a note by a -small colored boy telling them that he was dining with the Major. -Consequently the two ladies were alone. When the dessert came on Miss -India said: - -“I think Mr. Winthrop would relish some of this clabber for his supper, -Holly. It will do him good. I’ll put it in the safe, my dear, and don’t -let me forget to get it out for him this evening.” - -“I don’t reckon he cares much for clabber, Auntie.” - -“Not care for clabber! Nonsense, my dear; everyone likes clabber. -Besides, it’s just what he ought to have after taking dinner at the -hotel; I don’t reckon they’ll give him a thing that’s fit to eat. When -your father was alive he took me to Augusta with him once and we -stopped at a hotel there, and I assure you, Holly, there wasn’t a thing -I could touch! Such tasteless trash you never saw! I always pity folks -that have to live at hotels, and I do wish the Major would go to Mrs. -Burson’s for his meals.” - -“But the Bursons live mighty poorly, Auntie.” - -“Because they have to, my child. If the Major went there Mrs. Burson -could spend more on her table. She has one of the best cooks in the -town.” Holly made no reply and presently Miss India went on: “Have you -noticed,” she asked, “how Mr. Winthrop has improved since he came here, -Holly?” - -“Yes, Auntie. He says himself that he’s much better. He was wondering -the other day whether it wasn’t time to stop taking the medicine.” - -“The tonic? Sakes, no! Why, that’s what’s holding him up, my dear, -although he doesn’t realize it. I reckon he’s a much sicker man than he -thinks he is.” - -“He appears to be able to get around fairly well,” commented Holly. -“He’s always off somewhere nowadays.” - -“Yes, and I’m afraid he’s overdoing it, my dear. I must speak to him -about it.” - -“Then we mightn’t get any more quail or doves, Auntie.” - -“It would be just as well. Why he wants to kill the poor defenceless -creatures I don’t see.” - -“But you know you love doves, Auntie,” laughed Holly. - -“Well, maybe I do; but it isn’t right to kill them, _I_ know.” - -“Doesn’t it seem strange,” asked Holly presently, her eyes on the bread -she was crumbling between her fingers, “that Mr. Winthrop never says -anything about his wife?” - -“I’ve never yet heard him say he had a wife,” answered Miss India. - -“Oh, but we know that he has. Uncle Major said so.” - -“I don’t reckon the Major knows very much about it. Maybe his wife’s -dead.” - -“Oh,” said Holly, thoughtfully. Then: “No, I don’t think she could be -dead,” she added, with conviction. “Do you――do you reckon he has any -children Auntie?” - -“Sakes, child, how should I know? It’s no concern of ours, at any rate.” - -“I reckon we can wonder, though. And it is funny he never speaks of -her.” - -“Northerners are different,” said Miss India sagely. “I reckon a wife -doesn’t mean much to them, anyhow.” - -“Don’t you think Mr. Winthrop is nice, Auntie?” - -“I’ve seen men I liked better and a heap I liked worse,” replied her -Aunt, briefly. “But I’ll say one thing for Mr. Winthrop,” she added, -as she arose from her chair and drew her shawl more closely around her -shoulders, “he has tact; I’ve never heard him allude to the War. Tact -and decency,” she murmured, as she picked her keys from the table. -“Bring the plates, Phœbe.” - -Four Sundays passed without the appearance of Julian. Winthrop -wondered. “Either,” he reflected, “they have had a quarrel or he is -mighty sure of her. And it can’t be a quarrel, for she gets letters -from him at least once a week. Perhaps he is too busy at his work to -spare the time, although――――” Winthrop shook his head. He had known -lovers who would have made the time. - -The rainy weather passed northward with its draggled skirts, and a -spell of warm days ushered in the Christmas season. The garden smiled -again in the sunlight, and a few of the roses opened new blooms. -Winthrop took a trip to Jacksonville a week before Christmas, spent -two days there, and purchased modest gifts for Miss India, Holly, -and the Major. The former had flatteringly commissioned him to make -a few purchases for her, and Winthrop, realizing that this showed a -distinct advance in his siege of the little lady’s liking, spent many -anxious moments in the performance of the task. When he returned he was -graciously informed that he had purchased wisely and well. Christmas -fell on Saturday that year and Julian put in an appearance Friday -evening. Christmas morning they went to church and at two o’clock sat -down to a dinner at which were present besides the family and Winthrop, -Major Cass, Edith Bartram, and Mr. and Mrs. Burson. Burson kept the -livery stable and was a tall, awkward, self-effacing man of fifty or -thereabouts, who some twenty years before had in an unaccountable -manner won the toast of the county for his bride. A measure of Mrs. -Burson’s former beauty remained, but on the whole she was a faded, -depressing little woman, worn out by a long struggle against poverty. - -The Major, who had been out in the country in the morning, arrived late -and very dusty and went up to Winthrop’s room to wash before joining -the others. When he came down and, after greeting the assembled party, -tucked his napkin under his ample chin, he turned to Winthrop with -twinkling eyes. - -“Mr. Winthrop, sir,” he said, “I came mighty near not getting out of -your room again, sir. I saw that picture on your bureau and fell down -and worshipped. Gad, sir, I don’t know when I’ve seen a more beautiful -woman, outside of the present array! Yes, sir, I came mighty near -staying right there and feasting my eyes instead of my body, sir. And a -fine-looking boy, too, Mr. Winthrop. Your family, I reckon, sir?” - -“My wife and son,” answered Winthrop, gravely. - -The conversation had died abruptly and everyone was frankly attentive. - -“I envy you, sir, ’pon my word, I do!” said the Major emphatically, -between spoonfuls of soup. “As handsome a woman and boy as ever I saw, -sir. They are well, I trust, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“The boy died shortly after that portrait was taken,” responded -Winthrop. There were murmurs of sympathy. - -“Dear, dear, dear,” said the Major, laying down his spoon and looking -truly distressed. “I had no idea, Mr. Winthrop――――! You’ll pardon me, -sir, for my――my unfortunate curiosity.” - -“Don’t apologize, Major,” answered Winthrop, smilingly. “It has been -six years, and I can speak of it now with some degree of equanimity. -He was a great boy, that son of mine; sometimes I think that maybe the -Lord was a little bit envious.” - -“The picture of you, sir,” said the Major, earnestly. “But your lady, -sir? She is――ah――well, I trust?” - -“Quite, I believe,” answered Winthrop. - -“I am glad to hear it. I trust some day, sir, you’ll bring her down and -give us the pleasure of meeting her.” - -“Thank you,” Winthrop replied, quietly. - -Holly began an eager conversation with Julian and the talk became -general, the Major holding forth on the subject of Cuban affairs, which -were compelling a good deal of attention in that winter of 1897–8. -After dinner they went out to the porch, but not before the Major had, -unnoticed, stationed himself at the dining-room door with a sprig of -mistletoe in his hand. Holly and Julian reached the door together -and with a portentous wink at Julian the Major held the little bunch -of leaves and berries over Holly’s head. Winthrop, the last to leave -the room, saw what followed. Julian imprisoned Holly’s hands in front -of her, leaned across her shoulder and pressed a kiss on her cheek. -There was a little cry of alarm from Holly, drowned by the Major’s -chuckle and Julian’s triumphant laugh. Holly’s eyes caught sight of the -mistletoe, the blood dyed her face, and she smiled uncertainly. - -[Illustration: THE MAJOR HELD THE LITTLE BUNCH OF LEAVES AND BERRIES -OVER HOLLY’S HEAD] - -“He caught you, my dear,” chuckled the Major. - -“You’re a traitor, Uncle Major,” she answered, indignantly. With a -quick gesture she seized the mistletoe from his grasp and threw it -across the room. As she turned, her head in air, her eyes encountered -Winthrop’s and their glances clung for an instant. He wondered -afterwards what she had read in his eyes for her own grew large and -startled ere the lids fell over them and she turned and ran out -through the hall. The rest followed laughing. Winthrop ascended to his -room, closed his door, lighted a pipe and sat down at an open window. -From below came the sound of voices, rising and falling, and the harsh -song of a red-bird in the magnolia-tree. From the back of the house -came the sharp explosions of firecrackers, and Winthrop knew that -Young Tom was beatifically happy. The firecrackers had been Winthrop’s -“Chrismus gif.” But his thoughts didn’t remain long with the occupants -of the porch or with Young Tom, although he strove to keep them there. -There was something he must face, and so, tamping the tobacco down in -his pipe with his finger, he faced it. - -He was in love with Holly. - -The sudden rage of jealousy which had surged over him down there in -the dining-room had opened his eyes. He realized now that he had been -falling in love with her, deeper and deeper every day, ever since his -arrival at Waynewood. He had been blinding himself with all sorts of -excuses, but to-day they were no longer convincing. He had made a -beastly mess of things. If he had only had the common sense to look -the situation fairly in the face a month ago! It would have been so -simple then to have beat a retreat. Now he might retreat as far as he -could go without undoing the damage. Well, thank Heaven, there was no -harm done to anyone save himself! Then he recalled the startled look in -Holly’s brown eyes and wondered what she had read in his face. Could -she have guessed? Nonsense; he was too old to parade his emotions like -a school-boy. Doubtless he had looked annoyed, disgusted, and Holly -had seen it and probably resented it. That was all. Had he unwittingly -done anything to cause her to suspect? He strove to remember. No, the -secret was safe. He sighed with relief. Thank Heaven for that! If she -ever guessed his feelings what a fool she would think him, what a -middle-aged, sentimental ass! And how she would laugh! But no, perhaps -she wouldn’t do just that; she was too kind-hearted; but she would be -amused. Winthrop’s cheeks burned at the thought. - -Granted all this, what was to be done? Run away? To what end? Running -away wouldn’t undo what was done. Now that he realized what had -happened he could keep guard on himself. None suspected, none need ever -suspect, Holly least of all. It would be foolish to punish himself -unnecessarily for what, after all, was no offense. No; he would stay at -Waynewood; he would see Holly each day, and he would cure himself of -what, after all, was――could be――only a sentimental attachment evolved -from propinquity and idleness. Holly was going to marry Julian; and -even were she not――――. Winthrop glanced toward the photograph frame on -the bureau――there were circumstances which forbade him entering the -field. Holly was not for him. Surely if one thoroughly realized that -a thing was unobtainable he must cease to desire it in time. That was -common sense. He knocked the ashes from his pipe and arose. - -“That’s it, Robert, my boy,” he muttered. “Common sense. If you’ll just -stick to that you’ll come out all right. There’s nothing like a little, -hard, plain common sense to knock the wind out of sentiment. Common -sense, my boy, common sense!” - -He joined the others on the porch and conducted a very creditable -flirtation with Miss Edith until visitors began to arrive, and the -big bowl of eggnog was set in the middle of the dining-room table and -banked with holly. After dark they went into town and watched the -fireworks on the green surrounding the school-house. Holly walked ahead -with Julian, and Winthrop thought he had never seen her in better -spirits. She almost seemed to avoid him that evening, but that was -perhaps only his fancy. Returning, there were only Holly and Julian and -Winthrop, for Miss Bartram and the Bursons returned to their homes and -the Major had been left at Waynewood playing bezique with Miss India. -For awhile the conversation lagged, but Winthrop set himself the task -of being agreeable to Julian and by the time they reached the house -that youth had thawed out and was treating Winthrop with condescending -friendliness. Winthrop left the young pair on the porch and joined the -Major and Miss India in the parlor, watching their play and hiding his -yawns until the Major finally owned defeat. - - - - -XI. - - -Holly had grown older within the last two months, although no one but -Aunt India realized it. It was as though her eighteenth birthday had -been a sharp line of division between girlhood and womanhood. It was -not that Holly had altered either in appearance or actions; she was the -same Holly, gay or serious, tender or tyrannical, as the mood seized -her; but the change was there, even if Miss India couldn’t quite put -her finger on it. Perhaps she was a little more sedate when she was -sedate, a little more thoughtful at all times. She read less than she -used to, but that was probably because there were fewer moments when -she was alone. She was a little more careful of her attire than she had -been, but that was probably because there was more reason to look well. -Miss India felt the change rather than saw it. - -I have said that no one save Miss India realized it, but that is not -wholly true. For Holly herself realized it in a dim, disquieting way. -The world in which she had spent her first eighteen years seemed, as -she looked back at it, strangely removed from the present one. There -had been the same sky and sunshine, the same breezes and flowers, the -same pleasures and duties, and yet there had been a difference. It -was as though a gauze curtain had been rolled away; things were more -distinct, sensations more acute; the horizon was where it always had -been, but now it seemed far more distant, giving space for so many -details which had eluded her sight before. It was all rather confusing. -At times it seemed to Holly that she was much happier than she had -been in that old world, and there were times when the contrary seemed -true, times when she became oppressed with a feeling of sorrowfulness. -At such moments her soft mouth would droop at the corners and her eyes -grow moist; life seemed very tragic in some indefinable way. And yet, -all the while, she knew in her heart that this new world――this broader, -vaster, clearer world――was the best; that this new life, in spite of -its tragedy which she felt but could not see, was the real life. Sorrow -bit sharper, joy was more intense, living held a new, fierce zest. Not -that she spent much time in introspection, or worried her head with -over-much reasoning, but all this she felt confusedly as one groping -in a dark room feels unfamiliar objects without knowing what they may -be or why they are there. But Holly’s groping was not for long. The -door of understanding opened very suddenly, and the light of knowledge -flooded in upon her. - -[Illustration] - -January was a fortnight old and Winter held sway. The banana-trees -drooped blackened and shrivelled, the rose-beds were littered with -crumpled leaves, and morning after morning a film of ice, no thicker -than a sheet of paper, but still real ice, covered the water-pail on -its shelf on the back porch. Uncle Ran groaned with rheumatism as he -laid the morning fires, and held his stiffened fingers to the blaze -as the fat pine hissed and spluttered. To Winthrop it was the veriest -farce of a winter, but the other inhabitants of Waynewood felt the cold -keenly. Aunt India kept to her room a great deal, and when she did -appear down-stairs she seemed tinier than ever under the great gray -shawl. Her face wore a pinched and anxious expression, as though she -were in constant fear of actually freezing to death. - -“I don’t understand what has gotten into our winters,” she said one day -at dinner, drawing her skirts forward so they would not be scorched by -the fire which blazed furiously at her back. “They used to be at least -temperate. Now one might as well live in Russia or Nova Zembla! Phœbe, -you forgot to put the butter on the hearth and it’s as hard as a rock. -You’re getting more forgetful every day.” - -[Illustration] - -It was in the middle of the month, one forenoon when the cold had -moderated so that one could sit on the porch in the sunshine without -a wrap and when the southerly breeze held a faint, heart-stirring -promise of Spring――a promise speedily broken,――that Winthrop came back -to the house from an after-breakfast walk over the rutted clay road and -found Holly removing the greenery from the parlor walls and mantel. -She had spread a sheet in the middle of the room and was tossing the -dried and crackling holly and the gummy pine plumes onto it in a heap. -As Winthrop hung up his hat and looked in upon her she was standing -on a chair and, somewhat red of face, was striving to reach the bunch -of green leaves and red berries above the half-length portrait of her -father. - -“You’d better let me do that,” suggested Winthrop, as he joined her. - -“No,” answered Holly, “I’m――――going to――――get it――――There!” - -Down came the greenery with a shower of dried leaves and berries, and -down jumped Holly with a triumphant laugh. - -“Please move the chair over there,” she directed. - -Winthrop obeyed, and started to step up onto it, but Holly objected. - -“No, no, no,” she cried, anxiously. “I’m going to do it myself. It -makes me feel about a foot high and terribly helpless to have folks -reach things down for me.” - -Winthrop smiled and held out his hand while she climbed up. - -“There,” said Holly. “Now I’m going to reach that if I――have -to――stretch myself――out of――shape!” It was a long reach, but she finally -accomplished it, laid hold of one of the stalks and gave a tug. The -tug achieved the desired result, but it also threw Holly off her -balance. To save herself she made a wild clutch at Winthrop’s shoulder, -and as the chair tipped over she found herself against his breast, his -arms about her and her feet dangling impotently in air. Perhaps he held -her there an instant longer than was absolutely necessary, and in that -instant perhaps his heart beat a little faster than usual, his arms -held her a little tighter than before, and his eyes darkened with some -emotion not altogether anxiety for her safety. Then he placed her very -gently on her feet and released her. - -“You see,” he began with elaborate unconcern, “I told you――――” - -Then he caught sight of her face and stopped. It was very white, and in -the fleeting glimpse he had of her eyes they seemed vast and dark and -terrified. - -“It startled you!” he said, anxiously. - -She stood motionless for a moment, her head bent, her arms hanging -straight. Then she turned and walked slowly toward the door. - -“Yes,” she said, in a low voice; “it――――I feel――――faint.” - -[Illustration] - -Very deliberately she climbed the stairs, passed along the hall, and -entered her room. She closed the door behind her and walked, like one -in a dream, to the window. For several minutes she stared unseeingly -out into the sunlit world, her hands strained together at her breast -and her heart fluttering chokingly. The door of understanding had -opened and the sudden light bewildered her. But gradually things took -shape. With a little sound that was half gasp, half moan, she turned -and fell to her knees at the foot of her bed, her tightly-clasped hands -thrown out across the snowy quilt and her cheek pillowed on one arm. -Tears welled slowly from under her closed lids and seeped scorchingly -through her sleeve. - -“Don’t let me, dear God,” she sobbed, miserably, “don’t let me! You -don’t want me to be unhappy, do you? You know he’s a married man and -a Northerner! And I didn’t know, truly I didn’t know until just now! -It would be wicked to love him, wouldn’t it? And you don’t want me to -be wicked, do you? And you’ll take him away, dear God, where I won’t -see him again, ever, ever again? You know I’m only just Holly Wayne -and I need your help. You mustn’t let me love him! You mustn’t, you -mustn’t....” - -She knelt there a long time, feeling very miserable and very -wicked,――wicked because in spite of her prayers, which had finally -trailed off into mingled sobs and murmurs, her thoughts flew back to -Winthrop and her heart throbbed with a strange, new gladness. Oh, how -terribly wicked she was! It seemed to her that she had lied to God! -She had begged Him to take Winthrop away from her and yet her thoughts -sought him every moment! She had only to close her own eyes to see his, -deep and dark, looking down at her, and to read again their wonderful, -fearsome message; to feel again the straining clasp of his arms about -her and the hurried thud of his heart against her breast! She felt -guilty and miserable and happy. - -She wondered if God would hear her prayer and take him away from -her. And suddenly she realized what that would mean. Not to see him -again――ever! No, no; she couldn’t stand that! God must help her to -forget him, but He mustn’t take him away. After all, was it so horribly -wicked to care for him as long as she never let him know? Surely no one -would suffer save herself? And she――well, she could suffer. It came to -her, then, that perhaps in this new world of hers it was a woman’s lot -to suffer. - -Her thoughts flew to her mother. She wondered if such a thing had ever -happened to her. What would she have done had she been in Holly’s -place? Holly’s tears came creeping back again; she wanted her mother -very much just then.... - -As she sat at the open window, the faint and measured tramp of steps -along the porch reached her. It was Winthrop, she knew. And at the -very thought her heart gave a quick throb that was at once a joy and -a pain. Oh, why couldn’t people be just happy in such a beautiful -world? Why need there be disappointments, and heartaches? If only she -could go to him and explain it all! He would take her hand and look -down at her with that smiling gravity of his, and she would say quite -fearlessly: “I love you very dearly. I can’t help it. It isn’t my -fault, nor yours. But you must make it easy for me, dear. You must go -away now, but not for ever; I couldn’t stand that. Sometimes you must -come back and see me. And when you are away you will know that I love -you more than anything in the world, and I will know that you love me. -Of course, we must never speak again of our love, for that would be -wicked. And you wouldn’t want me to be wicked. We will be such good, -good friends always. Good-bye.” - -You see, it never occurred to her that Winthrop’s straining arms, his -quickening heart-throbs, and the words of his eyes, might be only the -manifestation of a quite temporal passion. She judged him by herself, -and all loves by that which her father and mother had borne for each -other. There were still things in this new world of hers which her eyes -had not discerned. - -She wondered if Winthrop had understood her emotion after he had -released her from his arms. For an instant, she hoped that he had. Then -she clasped her hands closely to her burning cheeks and thought that -if he had she would never have the courage to face him again! She hoped -and prayed that he had not guessed. - -Suddenly, regretfully for the pain she must cause him, she recollected -Julian. She could never marry him now. She would never, never marry -anyone. She would be an old maid, like Aunt India. The prospect seemed -rather pleasing than otherwise. With such a precious love in her -heart she could never be quite lonely, no matter if she lived to be -very, very old! She wondered if Aunt India had ever loved. And just -then Phœbe’s voice called her from below and she went to the door and -answered. She bathed her hot cheeks and wet eyes in the chill water, -and with a long look about the big square room, which seemed now to -have taken on the sacredness of a temple of confession, she went -down-stairs. - -Winthrop had not guessed. She knew that at once when she saw him. He -was eagerly anxious about her, and blamed himself for her fright. - -“I ought never to have let you try such foolishness,” he said, -savagely. “You might have hurt yourself badly.” - -“Oh,” laughed Holly, “but you were there to catch me!” - -There was a caressing note in her voice that thrilled him with longing -to live over again that brief moment in the parlor. But he only -answered, and awkwardly enough, since his nerves were taut: “Then -please see that I’m there before you try it again.” - -They sat down at table with Miss India, to whom by tacit consent no -mention was made of the incident, and chattered gayly of all things -save the one which was crying at their lips to be spoken. And Holly -kept her secret well. - - - - -XII. - - -January and Winter had passed together. February was nearly a week old. -Already the garden was astir. The violet-beds were massed with blue, -and the green spikes of the jonquils showed tiny buds. There was a new -balminess in the air, a new languor in the ardent sunlight. The oaks -were tasseling, the fig-trees were gowning themselves in new green -robes of Edenic simplicity, the clumps of Bridal Wreath were sprinkled -with flecks of white that promised early flowering and the pomegranates -were unfolding fresh leaves. On the magnolia burnished leaves of tender -green squirmed free from brown sheaths like moths from their cocoons. -The south wind blew soft and fresh from the Gulf, spiced with the aroma -of tropic seas. Spring was dawning over Northern Florida. - -It was Saturday afternoon, and Holly was perched in the fig-tree at the -end of the porch, one rounded arm thrown back against the dusky trunk -to pillow her head, one hand holding her forgotten book, one slender -ankle swinging slowly like a dainty pendulum from under the hem of -her skirt. Her eyes were on the green knoll where the oaks threw deep -shadow over the red-walled enclosure, and her thoughts wandered like -the blue-jay that flitted restlessly through garden and grove. Life was -a turbid stream, these days, filled with perplexing swirls――a stream -that rippled with laughter in the sunlight, and sighed in its shadowed -depths, and all the while flowed swiftly, breathlessly on toward――what? - -[Illustration] - -The sound of a horse’s hoofs on the road aroused Holly from her dreams. -She lifted her head and listened. The hoof-beats slackened at the gate, -and then drew nearer up the curving drive. The trees hid the rider, -however, and Holly could only surmise his identity. It could scarcely -be Mr. Winthrop, for he had gone off in the Major’s buggy early in the -forenoon for an all-day visit to Sunnyside. Then it must be Julian, -although it was unlike him to come so early. She slipped from her seat -in the tree and walked toward the steps just as horse and rider trotted -into sight. It was Julian――Julian looking very handsome and eager as he -threw himself from the saddle, drew the reins over White Queen’s head -and strode toward the girl. - -“Howdy, Holly?” he greeted. “Didn’t expect to see me so early, I -reckon.” He took her hand, drew her to him, and had kissed her cheek -before she thought to deny him. She had grown so used to having him -kiss her when he came and departed, and his kisses meant so little, -that she forgot. She drew herself away gravely. - -“I’ll call Uncle Ran,” she said. - -“All right, Holly.” Julian threw himself on to the steps and lighted -a cigarette, gazing appreciatively about him. How pretty it was here -at Waynewood! Some day he meant to own it. He was the only male -descendant of the old family, and it was but right and proper that the -place should be his. In a year or two that interloping Yankee would be -glad enough to get rid of it. Then he would marry Holly, succeed to the -Old Doctor’s practice and―――― Suddenly he recollected that odd note of -Holly’s and drew it from his pocket. Nonsense, of course, but it had -worried him a bit at first. She had been piqued, probably, because he -had not been over to see her. He flicked the letter with his finger and -laughed softly. The idea of Holly releasing him from their engagement! -Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure that there was any engagement; for -the last three years there had been a tacit understanding that some -day they were to be married and live at Waynewood, but Julian couldn’t -remember that he had ever out-and-out asked Holly to marry him. He -laughed again. That was a joke on Holly. He would ask her how she could -break what didn’t exist. And afterwards he would make sure that it did -exist. He had no intention of losing Holly. No, indeed! She was the -only girl in the world for him. He had met heaps of pretty girls, but -never one who could hold a candle to his sweetheart. - -Holly came back followed by Uncle Ran. The horse was led away to the -stable, and Holly sat down on the top step at a little distance from -Julian. Julian looked across at her, admiration and mischief in his -black eyes. - -“So it’s all over between us, is it, Holly?” he asked, with a soft -laugh. Holly looked up eagerly, and bent forward with a sudden lighting -of her grave face. - -“Oh, Julian,” she cried, “it’s all right, then? You’re not going to -care?” - -Julian looked surprised. - -“Care about what?” he asked, suspiciously. - -“But I explained it all in my note,” answered Holly, sinking back -against the pillar. “I thought you’d understand, Julian.” - -“Are you talking about this?” he asked, contemptuously, tapping the -letter against the edge of the step. “Do you mean me to believe that -you were in earnest?” - -“Yes, quite in earnest,” she answered, gently. - -“Shucks!” said Julian. But there was a tone of uneasiness in his -contempt. “What have I done, Holly? If it’s because I haven’t been -getting over here to see you very often, I want you to understand that -I’m a pretty busy man these days. Thompson’s been getting me to do -more and more of his work. Why, he never takes a night call any more -himself; passes it over to me every time. And I can tell you that that -sort of thing is no fun, Holly. Besides,”――he gained reassurance from -his own defence――“you didn’t seem very particular about seeing me the -last time I was here. I reckoned that maybe you and the Yankee were -getting on pretty well without me.” - -“It isn’t that,” said Holly. “I――I told you in the letter, Julian. -Didn’t you read it?” - -“Of course I read it, but I couldn’t understand it. You said you’d made -a mistake, and a lot of foolishness like that, and had decided you -couldn’t marry me. Wasn’t that it?” - -“Yes, that was it――in a way,” answered Holly. “Well, I mean it, Julian.” - -Julian stared across impatiently. - -“Now don’t be silly, Holly! Who’s been talking about me? Has that -fellow Winthrop been putting fool notions into your head?” - -“No, Julian.” - -“Then what―――― Oh, well, I dare say I’ll be able to stand it,” he said, -petulantly. - -“Don’t be angry, Julian, please,” begged Holly. “I want you to -understand it, dear.” - -Holly indulged in endearments very seldom, and Julian melted. - -“But, hang it, Holly, you talk as though you didn’t care for me any -more!” he exclaimed. - -“No, I’m not talking so at all,” she answered, gently. “I do care for -you――a heap. I always have and always will. But I――I don’t love you -as――as a girl loves the man who is to be her husband, Julian. I tried -to explain that in my letter. You see, we’ve always been such good -friends that it seemed sort of natural that we should be sweethearts, -and then I reckon we just fell into thinking about getting married. I -don’t believe you ever asked me to marry you, Julian; I――I just took it -for granted, I reckon!” - -“Nonsense!” he exclaimed. - -“I don’t reckon you ever did,” she persisted, with a little smile for -his polite disclaimer. “But I’ve always thought of marrying you, and -it seemed all right until――until lately. I don’t reckon I ever thought -much about what it meant. We’ve always been fond of each other and so -it――it seemed all right, didn’t it?” - -“It _is_ all right, Holly,” he answered, earnestly. He changed his seat -to where he could take her hand. “You’ve been thinking about things -too much,” he went on. “I reckon you think that because I don’t come -over oftener and write poetry to you and all that sort of thing that I -don’t love you. Every girl gets romantic notions at some time or other, -Holly, and I reckon you’re having yours. I don’t blame you, Sweetheart, -but you mustn’t get the notion that I don’t love you. Why, you’re the -only woman in the world for me, Holly!” - -“I don’t reckon you’ve known so very many women, Julian,” said Holly. - -“Haven’t I, though? Why, I met dozens of them when I was at college.” -There was a tiny suggestion of swagger. “And some of them were mighty -clever, too, and handsome. But there’s never been anyone but you, -Holly, never once.” - -Holly smiled and pressed the hand that held hers captive. - -“That’s dear of you, Julian,” she answered. “But you must get over -thinking of me――in that way.” - -He drew back with an angry flush on his face and dropped her hand. -There was an instant’s silence. Then: - -“You mean you won’t marry me?” he demanded, hotly. - -“I mean that I don’t love you in the right way, Julian.” - -“It’s that grinning Yankee!” he cried. “He’s been making love to you -and filling your head with crazy notions. Oh, you needn’t deny it! I’m -not blind! I’ve seen what was going on every time I came over.” - -“Julian!” she cried, rising to her feet. - -“Yes, I have!” he went on, leaping up and facing her. “A fine thing to -do, isn’t it?” he sneered. “Keep me dangling on your string and all the -while accept attentions from a married man! And a blasted Northerner, -too! Mighty pleased your father would have been!” - -“Julian! You forget yourself!” said Holly, quietly. “You have no right -to talk this way to me!” - -“It’s you who forget yourself,” he answered, slashing his riding-whip -against his boots. “And if I haven’t the right to call you to account -I’d like to know who has! Miss Indy’s blind, I reckon, but I’m not!” - -Holly’s face had faded to a white mask from which her dark eyes flashed -furiously. But her voice, though it trembled, was quiet and cold. - -“You’ll beg my pardon, Julian Wayne, for what you’ve said before I’ll -speak to you again. Mr. Winthrop has never made love to me in his life.” - -She turned toward the door. - -“You don’t dare deny, though, that you love him!” cried Julian, roughly. - -“I don’t deny it! I won’t deny it!” cried Holly, facing him in a blaze -of wrath. “I deny nothing to you. You have no right to know. But if I -did love Mr. Winthrop, married though he is, I’d not be ashamed of it. -He is at least a gentleman!” - -She swept into the house. - -“By God!” whispered Julian, the color rushing from his face. “By God! -I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!” He staggered down the steps, beating the -air with his whip. A moment later, Holly, sitting with clenched hands -and heaving breast in her room, heard him shouting for Uncle Ran and -his horse. Ten minutes later he was riding like a whirlwind along the -Marysville road, White Queen in an ecstasy of madness as the whip rose -and fell. - -But by the time the distance was half covered Julian’s first anger had -cooled, leaving in its place a cold, bitter wrath toward Winthrop, -to whom he laid the blame not only of Holly’s defection but of his -loss of temper and brutality. He was no longer incensed with Holly; -it was as plain as a pikestaff that the sneaking Yankee had bewitched -her with his damned grinning face and flattering attentions, all the -while, doubtless, laughing at her in his sleeve! His smouldering rage -blazed up again and with a muttered oath Julian raised his whip. -But at Queen’s sudden snort of terror he let it drop softly again, -compunction gripping him. He leaned forward and patted the wet, white -neck soothingly. - -“Forgive me, girl,” he whispered. “I was a brute to take it out on -you. There, there, easy now; quiet, quiet!” - -On Monday Holly received a letter from him. It was humbly apologetic, -and self-accusing. It made no reference to Winthrop, nor did it refer -to the matter of the broken engagement; only―― - -[Illustration] - -“Try and forget my words, Holly,” he wrote, “and forgive me and let us -be good friends again just as we always have been. I am going over to -see you Saturday evening to ask forgiveness in person, but I shan’t -bother you for more than a couple of hours.” - -Holly, too, had long since repented, and was anxious to forgive and -be forgiven. The thought of losing Julian’s friendship just now when, -as it seemed, she needed friendship so much, had troubled and dismayed -her, and when his letter came she was quite prepared to go more than -halfway to effect a reconciliation. Her answer, written in the first -flush of gratitude, represented Holly in her softest mood, and Julian -read between the lines far more than she had meant to convey. He folded -it up and tucked it away with the rest of her letters and smiled his -satisfaction. - -[Illustration] - -At Waynewood in those days life for Holly and Winthrop was an -unsatisfactory affair, to say the least. Each strove to avoid the -other without seeming to do so, with the result that each felt -piqued. In Winthrop’s case it was one thing to keep out of Holly’s -presence from motives of caution, and quite another to find that she -was avoiding him. He believed that his secret was quite safe, and so -Holly’s apparent dislike for his society puzzled and disturbed him. -When they were together the former easy intimacy was absent and in its -place reigned a restlessness that made the parting almost a relief. -So affairs stood when on the subsequent Saturday Julian rode over to -Waynewood again. - -It was almost the middle of February, and the world was aglow under -a spell of warm weather that was quite unseasonable. The garden was -riotous with green leaves and early blossoms. Uncle Ran confided to -Winthrop that “if you jes’ listens right cahful you can hear the leaves -a-growin’ an’ the buds a-poppin’ open, sir!” Winthrop had spent a -restless day. Physically he was as well as he had ever been, he told -himself; three months at Waynewood had worked wonders for him; but -mentally he was far from normal. Of late he had been considering more -and more the advisability of returning North. It was time to get back -into harness. He had no doubt of his ability to retrieve his scattered -fortune, and it was high time that he began. And then, too, existence -here at Waynewood was getting more complex and unsatisfactory every -day. As far as Miss India’s treatment of him was concerned, he had only -cause for congratulation, for his siege of that lady’s heart had been -as successful as it was cunning; only that morning she had spoken to -him of Waynewood as “your property” without any trace of resentment; -but it was very evident that Holly had wearied of him. That should -have been salutary knowledge, tending to show him the absurdity and -hopelessness of his passion, but unfortunately it only increased his -misery without disturbing the cause of it. Yes, it was high time to -break away from an ungraceful position, and get back to his own -world――high time to awake from dreams and face reality. - -So his thoughts ran that Saturday afternoon, as he walked slowly out -from town along the shaded road. As he came within sight of Waynewood -a horse and rider turned in at the gate, and when Winthrop left the -oleander path and reached the sun-bathed garden he saw that Julian and -Holly were seated together on the porch, very deep in conversation――so -interested in each other, indeed, that he had almost gained the steps -before either of them became aware of his presence. Holly looked -anxiously at Julian. But that youth was on his good behavior. He arose -and bowed politely, if coldly, to Winthrop. Something told the latter -that an offer to shake hands would not be a happy proceeding. So he -merely returned Julian’s bow as he greeted him, remained for a moment -in conversation, and then continued on his way up-stairs. Once in his -room he lighted a pipe and, from force of habit, sank into a chair -facing the empty fireplace. Life to-day seemed extremely unattractive. -After ten minutes he arose, knocked out the ashes briskly, and dragged -his trunk into the center of the room. He had made up his mind. - -Supper passed pleasantly enough. Julian was resolved to reinstall -himself in Holly’s good graces, even if it entailed being polite to -the Northerner. Holly was in good spirits, while Winthrop yielded to -an excitement at once pleasant and perturbing. Now that he had fully -decided to return North he found himself quite eager to go; he wondered -how he could have been content to remain in idleness so long. Miss -India was the same as always, charming in her simple dignity, gravely -responsive to the laughter of the others, presiding behind the teapot -with the appropriate daintiness of a Chelsea statuette. Winthrop said -nothing of his intended departure to-morrow noon; he would not give -Julian that satisfaction. After Julian had gone he would inform Holly. -They must be alone when he told her. He didn’t ask himself why. He -only knew that the blood was racing in his veins to-night, that the air -seemed tinged with an electrical quality that brought pleasant thrills -to his heart, and that it was his last evening at Waynewood. One may be -pardoned something on one’s last evening. - -Contrary to his custom, and to all the laws of Cupid’s Court, Winthrop -joined Julian and Holly on the porch after supper. He did his best to -make himself agreeable and flattered himself that Holly, at least, -did not resent his presence. After his first fit of resentment at the -other’s intrusion Julian, too, thawed out and, recollecting his rôle, -was fairly agreeable to Winthrop. A silver moon floated above the house -and flooded the world with light. The white walls shone like snow, -and the shadows were intensely black and abrupt. No air stirred the -sleeping leaves, and the night was thrillingly silent, save when a -Whippoorwill sang plaintively in the grove. - -At nine Julian arose to take his leave. White Queen had been brought -around by Uncle Ran and was pawing the earth restively beside the -hitching-post outside the gate at the end of the house. Doubtless -Julian expected that Winthrop would allow him to bid Holly good-night -unmolested. But if so he reckoned without the spirit of recklessness -which controlled the Northerner to-night. Winthrop arose with the -others and accompanied them along the path to the gate, returning -Julian’s resentful glare with a look of smiling insouciance. Julian -unhitched White Queen and a moment of awkward silence followed. Holly, -dimly aware of the antagonism, glanced apprehensively from Julian to -Winthrop. - -“That’s a fine horse you have there,” said Winthrop, at last. - -“Do you think so?” answered Julian, with a thinly-veiled sneer. “You -know something about horses, perhaps?” - -“Not much,” replied Winthrop, with a good-natured laugh. “I used to -ride when I was at college.” - -“Perhaps you’d like to try her?” suggested Julian. - -“Thanks, no.” - -“I reckon you had better not,” Julian drawled. “A horse generally knows -when you’re afraid of her.” - -“Oh, I’m not afraid,” said Winthrop. “I dare say I’d manage to stick -on, but it is some time since I’ve ridden and my efforts would only -appear ridiculous to one of your grace and ability.” - -“Your modesty does you credit, if your discretion doesn’t,” replied -the other, with a disagreeable laugh. “I hadn’t done you justice, Mr. -Winthrop, it seems.” - -“How is that?” asked Winthrop, smilingly. - -“Why, it seems that you possess two virtues I had not suspected you of -having, sir.” - -“You wound me, Mr. Wayne. I pride myself on my modesty. And as for -discretion――――” - -“You doubtless find it useful at such times as the present,” sneered -Julian. - -“I really almost believe you are suspecting me of cowardice,” said -Winthrop, pleasantly. - -“I really almost believe you are a mind-reader,” mocked Julian. - -Their eyes met and held in the moonlight. Julian’s face was white and -strained. Winthrop’s was smiling, but the mouth set hard and there was -a dangerous sparkle in the eyes. Challenge met challenge. Winthrop -laughed softly. - -“You see, Miss Holly,” he said, turning to her, “I am forced to exhibit -my deficiencies, after all, or stand accused of cowardice. I pray you -to mercifully turn your eyes away.” - -“Please don’t,” said Holly, in a troubled voice. “Really, Queen isn’t -safe, Mr. Winthrop.” - -“The advice is good, sir,” drawled Julian. “The mare isn’t safe.” - -“Oh, pardon me, the mare is quite safe,” replied Winthrop, as he took -the bridle reins from Julian’s hand; “it’s I who am not safe. But we -shall see. At least, Miss Holly, credit me with the modesty which Mr. -Wayne seems to begrudge me, for here on the verge of the sacrifice I -acknowledge myself no horseman.” - -He placed his foot in the stirrup and sprang lightly enough into the -saddle. White Queen flattened her ears as she felt a new weight on her -back, but stood quite still while Winthrop shortened the reins. - -“Come on, Queen,” he said. The mare moved a step hesitatingly and shook -her head. At that moment there was a sharp cry of warning from Holly. -Julian raised the whip in his hand and brought it down savagely, and -the mare, with a cry of terror, flung herself across the narrow roadway -so quickly that Winthrop shot out of the saddle and crashed against the -picket fence, to lie crumpled and still in the moonlight. Holly was -beside him in the instant and Julian, tossing aside his whip, sprang -after her. - -Holly turned blazing eyes upon him. - -“No, no!” she cried, wildly. “You shan’t touch him! Keep away! -You’ve killed him. I won’t let you touch him!” She threw one arm -across Winthrop’s breast protectingly, and with the other sought to -ward Julian away. - -[Illustration: “KEEP AWAY! YOU’VE KILLED HIM”] - -“Hush!” he cried, tensely. “I must look at him. He is only stunned. His -head struck the fence. Let me look at him.” - -“I won’t! I won’t!” sobbed the girl. “You have done enough! Go for -help!” - -“Don’t be a fool!” he muttered, kneeling beside the still form and -running a hand under the vest. “You don’t want him to die, do you? -Here, hold his head up――so; that’s it.” There was an instant’s silence -broken only by Holly’s dry, choking sobs. Then Julian arose briskly to -his feet. “Just as I said,” he muttered. “Stunned. Find Uncle Ran and -we’ll take him into the house and attend to him!” - -“No, no! I’ll stay here,” said Holly, brokenly. “Hurry! Hurry!” - -For an instant Julian hesitated, scowling down upon her. Then, with -a muttered word, he turned abruptly and ran toward the house. Holly, -huddled against the fence with Winthrop’s head on her knee, held -tightly to one limp hand and watched with wide, terrified eyes. The -face was so white and cold in the moonlight! There was a little -troubled frown on the forehead, as though the soul was wondering and -perplexed. Had Julian spoken the truth? Was he really only stunned, or -was this death that she looked on? Would they never come? She gripped -his hand in a sudden panic of awful fear. Supposing death came and took -him away from her while she sat there impotent! She bent closer above -him, as though to hide him, and as she did so he gave a groan. Her -heart leaped. - -“Dear,” she whispered, “it’s Holly. She wants you. You won’t die, will -you? When you know that I want you, you won’t leave me, will you? What -would I do without you, dear? I’ve so long to live!” - -Footsteps hurried across the porch and down the steps. Very gently -Holly yielded her burden to Uncle Ran, and Winthrop was carried into -the house, where Aunt India, in a pink flowered wrapper, awaited them -at the head of the stairs. They bore Winthrop into his room and laid -him, still unconscious, on his bed. Holly’s gaze clung to the white -face. - -“Get on Queen, Uncle Ran, and ride in for the Old Doctor,” Julian -directed. “Tell him there’s a collar-bone to set. You had better leave -us, Holly.” - -“No, no!” cried Holly, new fear gripping her heart. - -“Holly!” said her aunt. “Go at once, girl. This is no place for you.” -But Holly made no answer. Her eyes were fixed on the silent form on the -bed. Julian laid his hand on her arm. - -“Come,” he said. She started and tore away from him, her eyes ablaze. - -“Don’t touch me!” she whispered, hoarsely, shudderingly. “Don’t touch -me, Julian! You’ve killed him! I want never to see you again!” - -“Holly!” exclaimed Miss India, astoundedly. - -“I am going, Auntie.” - -Julian held the door open for her, looking troubledly at her as she -passed out. But she didn’t see him. The door closed behind her. She -heard Julian’s quick steps across the floor and the sound of murmuring -voices. - -A deep sob shook her from head to feet. Falling to her knees she laid -her forehead against the frame of the door, her hands clasping and -unclasping convulsively. - -“Dear God,” she moaned, “I didn’t mean this! I didn’t mean this!” - -[Illustration] - - - - -XIII. - - -The effects of striking the head against a well-built fence may vary -in severity, ranging all the way from a simple contusion through -concussion of the brain to a broken neck. If unconsciousness results it -may last from a fraction of a second to――eternity. In Winthrop’s case -it lasted something less than ten minutes, at the end of which time he -awoke to a knowledge of a dully aching head and an uncomfortable left -shoulder. Unlike some other injuries, a broken collar-bone is a plain, -open-and-above-board affliction, with small likelihood of mysterious -complications. It is possible for the surgeon to tell within a day or -two the period of resulting incapacity. The Old Doctor said two weeks. -Sunday morning Uncle Ran unpacked Winthrop’s trunk, arranging the -contents in the former places with evident satisfaction. On Monday -Winthrop was up and about the house, quite himself save for the -temporary loss of his left arm and a certain stiffness of his neck. - -[Illustration] - -Miss India was once more in her element. As an invalid, Winthrop had -been becoming something of a disappointment, but now he was once again -in his proper rôle. Miss India kept an anxiously watchful eye on him, -and either Uncle Ran or Phœbe was certain to be hovering about whenever -he lifted his eyes. The number of eggnoggs and other strengthening -beverages which Winthrop was compelled to drink during the ensuing week -would be absolutely appalling if set down in cold print. - -Of Holly he caught but brief glimpses those first days of his -disability. She was all soft solicitude, but found occupations that -kept her either at the back of the house or in her chamber. She feared -that Winthrop was awaiting a convenient moment when they were alone -to ask her about the accident. As a matter of fact, he had little -curiosity about it. He was pretty certain that Julian had in some -manner frightened the horse, but he had not heard the sound of the -whip, since Holly’s sudden cry and the mare’s instant start had drowned -it. It seemed a very slight matter, after all. Doubtless Julian’s rage -had mastered him for the instant, and doubtless he was already heartily -ashamed of himself. Indeed his ministrations to Winthrop pending the -arrival of the Old Doctor had been as solicitous as friendship could -have demanded. Winthrop was quite ready to let by-gones be by-gones. - -“Besides,” Winthrop told himself, “I deliberately led him on to lose -control of himself. I’m as much to blame as he is. I wasn’t in my right -mind myself that night; maybe the evening ended less disastrously than -it might have. I dare say it was the moonlight. I’ve blamed everything -so far on the weather, and the moonlight might as well come in for -its share. Served me right, too, for wanting to make a holy show of -myself on horseback. Oh, I was decidedly mad that night; moon-mad, -that’s it.” He reflected a moment, then―― “The worst thing about being -knocked unconscious,” he went on, “is that you don’t know what happens -until you come to again. Now I’d like to have looked on at events. For -instance, I’d give a thousand dollars――if I still possess that much――to -know what Holly did or said, or didn’t do. I think I’ll ask her.” - -He smiled at the idea. Then―― - -“Why not?” he said, half aloud. “I want to know; why not ask? Why, -hang it all, I will ask! And right now, too.” - -He arose from the chair in the shade of the Baltimore Belle and walked -to the door. - -“Miss Holly,” he called. - -“Yes?” The voice came from up-stairs. - -“Are you very, very busy?” - -“N-no, not very, Mr. Winthrop.” - -“Then will you grant a dying man the grace of a few moments of your -valuable time?” - -There was a brief moment of hesitation, broken by the anxious voice of -Miss India. - -“Holly!” called her aunt, indignantly, “go down at once and see what -Mr. Winthrop wants. I reckon Phœbe has forgotten to take him his negus.” - -Winthrop smiled, and groaned. Holly’s steps pattered across the hall -and he went back to the end of the porch, dragging a second chair with -him and placing it opposite his own. When Holly came he pointed to it -gravely. Holly’s heart fell. Winthrop had a right to know the truth, -but it didn’t seem fair that the duty of confessing Julian’s act -should fall to her. The cowardice of it loomed large and terrible to -her. - -[Illustration] - -“Miss Holly,” said Winthrop, “I am naturally curious to learn what -happened the other night. Now, as you were an eye-witness of the -episode, I come to you for information.” - -“You mean that I’ve come to you,” answered Holly, smiling nervously. - -“True; I accept the correction.” - -“What――what do you want to know?” asked Holly. - -“All, please.” - -Holly’s eyes dropped, and her hands clutched each other desperately in -her lap. - -“I――he――oh, Mr. Winthrop, he didn’t know what he was doing; truly he -didn’t! He didn’t think what might happen!” - -[Illustration] - -“He? Who? Oh, you mean Julian? Of course he didn’t think; I understand -that perfectly. And it’s of no consequence, really, Miss Holly. He was -angry; in fact, I’d helped make him so; he acted on the impulse.” - -“Then you knew?” wondered Holly. - -“Knew something was up, that’s all. I suppose he flicked the mare with -the whip; I dare say he only wanted to start her for me.” - -Holly shook her head. - -“No, it wasn’t that. He――he cut her with the whip as hard as he could.” -Winthrop smiled at her tragic face and voice. - -“Well, as it happens there was little harm done. I dare say he’s quite -as regretful about it now as you like. What I want to know is what -happened afterwards, after I――dismounted.” - -“Oh,” said Holly. Her eyes wandered from Winthrop’s and the color crept -slowly into her face. - -“Well,” he prompted, presently. “You are not a very good chronicler, -Miss Holly.” - -“Why, afterwards――――oh, Julian examined you and found that you weren’t -killed――――” - -“There was doubt about that, then?” - -“I――we were frightened. You were all huddled up against the fence and -your face was so white――――” - -Holly’s own face paled at the recollection. Winthrop’s smile faded, and -his heart thrilled. - -“I’m sorry I occasioned you uneasiness, Miss Holly,” he said, earnestly. -“Then they carried me into the house and up to my room, I suppose. And -that was all there was to it,” he added, regretfully and questioningly. -It had been rather tame and uninteresting, after all. - -“Yes――――no,” answered Holly. “I――stayed with you while Julian went for -Uncle Ran. I thought once you were really dead, after all. Oh, I was -so――so frightened!” - -“He should have stayed himself,” said Winthrop, with a frown. “It was a -shame to put you through such an ordeal.” - -There was a little silence. Then Holly’s eyes went back to Winthrop’s -quite fearlessly. - -“I wouldn’t let him,” she said. “I was angry. I told him he had -killed you, and I wouldn’t let him touch you――at first. I――I was so -frightened! Oh, you don’t know how frightened I was!” - -She knew quite well what she was doing. She knew that she was laying -her heart quite bare at that moment, that her voice and eyes were -telling him everything, and that he was listening and comprehending! -But somehow it seemed perfectly right and natural to her. Why should -she treat her love――their love――as though it was something to be -ashamed of, to hide and avoid? Surely the very fact that they could -never be to each other as other lovers, ennobled their love rather than -degraded it! - -And as they looked at each other across a little space her eyes -read the answer to their message and her heart sang happily for a -moment there in the sunlight. Then her eyes dropped slowly before -the intensity of his look, a soft glow spread upward into her smooth -cheeks, and she smiled very gravely and sweetly. - -“I’ve told you, haven’t I!” she said, tremulously. - -“Holly!” he whispered. “Holly!” - -He stretched his hand toward her, only to let it fall again as the -first fierce joy gave place to doubt and discretion. He strove to -think, but his heart was leaping and his thoughts were in wild -disorder. He wanted to fall on his knees beside her, to take her in his -arms, to make her look at him again with those soft, deep, confessing -eyes. He wanted to whisper a thousand endearments to her, to sigh -“Holly, Holly,” and “Holly” again, a thousand times. But the moments -ticked past, and he only sat and held himself to his chair and was -triumphantly happy and utterly miserable in all his being. Presently -Holly looked up at him again, a little anxiously and very tenderly. - -“Are you sorry for me!” she asked, softly. - -“For you and for myself, dear,” he answered, “unless――――” - -“Will it be very hard?” she asked. “Would it have been easier if I -hadn’t――hadn’t――――” - -“No, a thousand times no, Holly! But, dear, I never guessed――――” - -Holly shook her head, and laughed very softly. - -“I didn’t mean you to know, I reckon; but somehow it just――just came -out. I couldn’t help it. I reckon I ought to have helped it, but you -see I’ve never――cared for anyone before, and I don’t know how to act -properly. Do you think I am awfully――awfully――you know; do you?” - -“I think you’re the best, the dearest――――” He stopped, with something -that was almost a sob. “I can’t tell you what I think you are, Holly; I -haven’t the words, dear.” - -“I don’t suppose you ought to, anyhow,” said Holly, thoughtfully. - -“Holly, have I――have I been to blame?” - -“No,” she answered quickly. “It was just――just me, I reckon. I prayed -God that He wouldn’t let me love you, but I reckon He has to look after -so many girls that――that care for the wrong people that He didn’t -have time to bother with Holly Wayne. Anyhow, it didn’t seem to do -much good. Maybe, though, He wanted me to love you――in spite of――of -everything. Do you reckon He did?” - -“Yes,” said Winthrop, fiercely, “I reckon He did. And He’s got to take -the consequences! Holly, I’m not fit for you; I’m twenty years older -than you are; I’ve been married and I’ve had the bloom brushed off of -life, dear; but if you’ll take me, Holly, if you’ll take me, dear――――” - -“Oh!” Holly arose to her feet and held a hand toward him appealingly. -“Please don’t! Please!” she cried. “Don’t spoil it all!” - -“Spoil it?” he asked, wonderingly. - -He got slowly to his feet and moved toward her. - -“You know what I mean,” said Holly, troubledly. “I do love you, and you -love me――――you do love me, don’t you?” - -“Yes,” he answered, simply. - -“And we can’t be happy――that way. But we can care for each -other――always――a great deal, and not make it hard to――to――――” - -She faltered, the tears creeping one by one over her lids. A light -broke upon Winthrop. - -“But you don’t understand!” he cried. - -“What?” she faltered, looking up at him anxiously, half fearfully, from -swimming eyes as he took her hand. - -“Dear, there’s no wrong if I――――” - -Sounds near at hand caused him to stop and glance around. At the gate -Julian Wayne was just dismounting from White Queen. Holly drew her -hand from Winthrop’s and with a look, eager and wondering, hurried -in-doors just as Julian opened the gate. Winthrop sank into his chair -and felt with trembling fingers for his cigarette-case. Julian espied -him as he mounted the steps and walked along the porch very stiffly and -determinedly. - -[Illustration] - -“Good-morning,” said Winthrop. - -“Good-morning, sir,” answered Julian. “I have come to apologize for -what occurred――for what I did the other night. I intended coming -before, but it was impossible.” - -“Don’t say anything more about it,” replied Winthrop. “I understand. -You acted on a moment’s impulse and my poor horsemanship did the rest. -It’s really not worth speaking of.” - -“On the contrary I did it quite deliberately,” answered Julian. “I -meant to do it, sir. But I had no thought of injuring you. I――I -only wanted Queen to cut up. If you would like satisfaction, Mr. -Winthrop――――” - -Winthrop stared. - -“My dear fellow,” he ejaculated, “you aren’t proposing a duel, are you?” - -“I am quite at your service, sir,” replied Julian, haughtily. “If the -idea of reparation seems ridiculous to you――――” - -“I beg your pardon, really,” said Winthrop, gravely and hurriedly. “It -was only that I had supposed duelling to be obsolete.” - -“Not among gentlemen, sir!” - -“I see. Nevertheless, Mr. Wayne, I’m afraid I shall have to refuse you. -I am hardly in condition to use either sword or pistol.” - -“If that is all,” answered Julian, eagerly, “I can put my left arm in a -sling, too. That would put us on even terms, I reckon, sir.” - -Winthrop threw out his hand with a gesture of surrender, and laughed -amusedly. - -“I give in,” he said. “You force me to the unromantic acknowledgment -that I’ve never used a sword, and can’t shoot a revolver without -jerking the barrel all around.” - -“You find me mighty amusing, it seems,” said Julian, hotly. - -“My dear fellow――――” - -“I don’t know anything more about swords or pistols than you do, I -reckon, sir, but I’ll be mighty glad to――to――――” - -“Cut my head off or shoot holes through me? Thanks, but I never felt -less like departing this life than I do now, Mr. Wayne.” - -“Then you refuse?” - -“Unconditionally. The fact is, you know, I, as the aggrieved party, am -the one to issue the challenge. As long as I am satisfied with your -apology I don’t believe you have any right to insist on shooting me.” - -Julian chewed a corner of his lip and scowled. - -“I thought maybe you weren’t satisfied,” he suggested hopefully. - -Winthrop smiled. - -“Quite satisfied,” he answered. “Won’t you sit down?” - -Julian hesitated and then took the chair indicated, seating himself -very erect on the edge, his riding-whip across his knees. - -“Will you smoke?” asked Winthrop, holding forth his cigarette-case. - -“No, thanks,” replied Julian, stiffly. - -There was a moment’s silence while Winthrop lighted his cigarette and -Julian observed him darkly. Then―― - -“Mr. Winthrop,” said Julian, “how long do you intend to remain here, -sir?” - -“My plans are a bit unsettled,” answered Winthrop, tossing the burnt -match onto the walk. “I had intended leaving Sunday, but my accident -prevented. Now I am undecided. May I enquire your reason for asking, -Mr. Wayne?” - -“Because I wanted to know,” answered Julian, bluntly. “Your presence -here is――is distasteful to me and embarrassing to Miss India and Miss -Holly.” - -“Really!” gasped Winthrop. - -“Yes, sir, and you know it. Anyone but a Northerner would have more -feeling than to force himself on the hospitality of two unfortunate -ladies as you have done, Mr. Winthrop.” - -“But――but――――!” Winthrop sighed, and shook his head helplessly. “Oh, -there’s no use in my trying to get your view, I guess. May I ask, -merely as a matter of curiosity, whether the fact that Waynewood is my -property has anything to do with it in your judgment.” - -“No, sir, it hasn’t! I don’t ask how you came into possession of the -place――――” - -“Thank you,” murmured Winthrop. - -“But in retaining it you are acting abominably, sir!” - -“The deuce I am! May I ask what you would advise me to do with it? -Shall I hand it over to Miss India or Miss Holly as――as a valentine?” - -“Our people, sir, don’t accept charity,” answered Julian, wrathfully. - -“So I fancied. Then what would you suggest? Perhaps you are in a -position to buy it yourself, Mr. Wayne?” - -Julian frowned and hesitated. - -“You had no business taking it,” he muttered. - -“Granted for the sake of argument, sir. But, having taken it, now what?” - -Julian hesitated for a moment. Then―― - -“At least you’re not obliged to stay here where you’re not wanted,” he -said, explosively. - -Winthrop smiled deprecatingly. - -“Mr. Wayne, I’d like to ask you one question. Did you come here this -morning on purpose to pick a quarrel with me?” - -“I came to apologize for what happened Saturday night. I’ve told you so -already.” - -“You have. You have apologized like a gentleman and I have accepted -your apology without reservations. That is finished. And now I’d like -to make a suggestion.” - -“Well?” asked Julian, suspiciously. - -“And that is that if your errand is at an end you withdraw from my -property until you can address me without insults.” - -Julian’s face flushed; he opened his lips to speak, choked back the -words, and arose from his chair. - -“Don’t misunderstand me, please,” went on Winthrop, quietly. “I am not -turning you out. I should be glad to have you remain as long as you -like. Only, if you please, as long as you are in a measure my guest, -you will kindly refrain from impertinent criticisms of my actions. I’d -dislike very much to have you weaken my faith in Southern courtesy, Mr. -Wayne.” - -Julian’s reply was never made, for at that instant Holly and Miss India -came out on the porch. Holly’s first glance was toward Winthrop. Then, -with slightly heightened color, she greeted Julian kindly. He seized -her hand and looked eagerly into her smiling face. - -“Am I forgiven?” he asked, in an anxious whisper. - -“Hush,” she answered, “it is I who should ask that. But we’ll forgive -each other.” She turned to Winthrop, who had arisen at their appearance, -and Julian greeted Miss India. - -“What have you gentlemen been talking about for so long?” asked Holly, -gayly. - -“Many things,” answered Winthrop. “Mr. Wayne was kind enough to express -his regrets for my accident. Afterwards we discussed”――he paused and -shot a whimsical glance at Julian’s uneasy countenance――“Southern -customs, obsolete and otherwise.” - -“It sounds very uninteresting,” laughed Holly. Then――“Why, Uncle Ran -hasn’t taken your horse around, Julian,” she exclaimed. - -“I didn’t call him. I am going right back.” - -“Nonsense, Julian, dinner is coming on the table now,” said Holly. - -“It’s much too warm to ride in the middle of the day,” said Miss India, -decisively. “Tell Phœbe to lay another place, Holly.” Julian hesitated -and shot a questioning glance at Winthrop. - -“You are quite right, Miss India,” said Winthrop. “This is no time to -do twelve miles on horseback. You must command Mr. Wayne to remain. No -one, I am sure, has ever dared disregard a command of yours.” - -“I’ll tell Phœbe and call Uncle Ran,” said Holly. But at the door she -turned and looked across the garden. “Why, here is Uncle Major! We’re -going to have a regular dinner party, Auntie.” - -The Major, very warm and somewhat breathless, was limping his way -hurriedly around the rose-bed, his cane tapping the ground with -unaccustomed force. - -“Good-morning, Miss India,” he called. “Good-morning, Holly; -good-morning, gentlemen. Have you heard the news?” - -“Not a word of it,” cried Holly, darting to the steps and pulling him -up. “Tell me quick!” - -The Major paused at the top of the little flight, removed his hat, -wiped his moist forehead, and looked impressively about the circle. - -“The battleship _Maine_ was blown up last night in Havanna harbor by -the damned――I beg your pardon, ladies――by the pesky Spaniards and -nearly three hundred officers and men were killed.” - -“Oh!” said Holly, softly. - -“I never!” gasped Miss India. - -“It is known that the Spanish did it?” asked Winthrop, gravely. - -“There can be no doubt of it,” answered the Major. “They just got the -news half an hour ago at the station and particulars are meager, but -there’s no question about how it happened.” - -“But this,” cried Julian, “means――――!” - -“It means intervention at last!” said the Major. “And intervention -means war, by Godfrey!” - -“War!” echoed Julian, eagerly. - -“And if it wasn’t for this da――this trifling leg of mine, I’d volunteer -to-morrow,” declared the Major. - -“How awful!” sighed Miss India. “Think of all those sailors that are -killed! I never did like the Spanish, Major.” - -“It may be,” said Winthrop, “that the accident will prove to have been -caused by an explosion on board.” - -“Shucks!” said Julian. “That’s rubbish! The Spaniards did it, as sure -as fighting, and, by Jupiter, if they think they can blow up our ships -and kill our men and not suffer for it―――― How long do you reckon it’ll -be, Major, before we declare war on them?” - -“Can’t say; maybe a week, maybe a month. I reckon Congress will have to -chew it over awhile. But it’s bound to come, and――well, I reckon I’m -out of it, Julian,” concluded the Major, with a sigh. - -“But I’m not!” cried the other. “I’ll go with the hospital corps. It’s -the chance of a lifetime, Major! Why, a man can get more experience in -two weeks in a field hospital than he can in two years anywhere else! -Why――――” - -“The bell has rung,” interposed Miss India. “You must take dinner with -us, Major, and tell us everything you know. Dear, dear, I feel quite -worked up! I remember when the news came that our army had fired on -Fort Sumter――――” - -Winthrop laid his hand on the Major’s arm and halted him. - -“Major,” he said, smiling slightly, “don’t you think you ought to -explain to them that the _Maine_ wasn’t a Confederate battleship, that -she belonged to the United States and that probably more than half her -officers and men were Northerners?” - -“Eh? What?” The Major stared bewilderedly a moment. Then he chuckled -and laid one big knotted hand on Winthrop’s shoulder. “Mr. Winthrop, -sir,” he said, “I reckon all that doesn’t matter so much now.” - - - - -XIV. - - -“I’m going for a walk with Mr. Winthrop, Auntie,” said Holly. She -fastened a broad-brimmed hat on her head and looked down at Miss India -with soft, shining eyes. Dinner was over and Miss India, the Major and -Julian were sitting in a shady spot on the porch. Winthrop awaited -Holly at the steps. - -“Well, my dear,” answered Miss India. “But keep Mr. Winthrop away from -those dark, damp places, Holly. It’s so easy to get the feet wet at -this time of year.” - -“You see, Uncle Major,” laughed Holly, “she doesn’t care whether I -catch cold or not; it’s just Mr. Winthrop!” - -“Holly!” expostulated her Aunt. - -“She knows, my dear,” said the Major, gallantly, “that those little -feet of yours will skim the wet places like swallows!” - -“Thank you, sir!” She made a face at the Major. “You will be here when -we get back, won’t you, Julian?” - -“I don’t know,” answered Julian, dismally. - -“We won’t be long.” She nodded to the trio and joined Winthrop, and -side by side they went down the steps, wound through the garden and -disappeared into the oleander path. Julian watched them with a pain -at his heart until they were out of sight, and for several minutes -afterwards he sat silent, thinking bitter thoughts. Then a remark of -the Major’s aroused him and he leaped impetuously into the conversation. - -“Trouble!” he exclaimed. “Why, we can clear the Spaniards out of Cuba -in two weeks. Look at our ships! And look at our army! There isn’t a -better one in the world! Trouble! Why, it’ll be too easy; you’ll see; -it’ll be all over before we know it!” - -“I dread another war, Major,” said Miss India, with a little shudder. -“The last one was so terrible.” - -“It was, ma’am, it was. It was brother kill brother. But this one will -be different, Miss Indy, for North and South will stand together and -fight together, and, by Godfrey, there’ll be no stopping until Spanish -dominion in Cuba is a thing of the past!” - -“That’s right,” cried Julian. “This is the whole country together this -time; it’s the United States of America, by Jupiter!” - -“Let us thank God for that,” said Miss India, devoutly. - - * * * * * - -Winthrop and Holly were rather silent until they had left the red clay -road behind and turned into the woods. There, in a little clearing, -Winthrop led the way to the trunk of a fallen pine and they seated -themselves upon it. The afternoon sunlight made its way between the -branches in amber streams. Above them festoons of gray-green moss -decked the trees. The woods were very silent and not even a bird-call -broke the silence. Holly took her hat off and laid it beside her on the -gray bark. Then she turned gravely to Winthrop and met his eyes. - -“What is it?” she whispered. - -“I’ve brought you here, Holly, to ask you to marry me,” he answered. -Holly’s hand flew to her heart, and her eyes grew big and dark. - -“I don’t understand,” she faltered. - -“No, and before I do ask you, dear, I’ve got something to tell you. -Will you listen?” - -“Oh, yes,” answered Holly, simply. - -“I was married when I was twenty-four years old,” began Winthrop, after -a moment. “I had just finished a course in the law school. The girl -I married was four years younger than I. She was very beautiful and -a great belle in the little city in which she lived. We went to New -York and I started in business with a friend of mine. We were stock -brokers. A year later my wife bore me a son; we called him Robert. For -five years we were very happy; those years were the happiest I have -ever known. Then the boy died.” He was silent a moment. “I loved him -a great deal, and I took it hard. I made a mistake then. To forget my -trouble I immersed myself too deeply, perhaps, in business. Well, two -years later I made the discovery that I had failed to keep my wife’s -love. If our boy had lived it would have been different but his death -left her lonely and――I was thoughtless, selfish in my own sorrow, until -it was too late. I found that my wife had grown to love another man. I -don’t blame her; I never have. And she was always honest with me. She -told me the truth. She sued me for divorce and I didn’t contest. That -was six years ago. She has been married for five years and I think, I -pray, that she is very happy.” - -He paused, and Holly darted a glance at his face. He was looking -straight ahead down the woodland path, and for an instant she felt very -lonely and apart. Then―― - -“You see, dear,” he continued, “I have failed to keep one woman’s love. -Could I do better another time? I think so, but――who knows? It would -be a risk for you, wouldn’t it?” - -He turned and smiled gently at her, and she smiled tremulously back. - -“There,” he said. “Now you know what I am. I am thirty-eight years old, -twenty years older than you, and a divorced man into the bargain. Even -if you were willing to excuse those things, Holly, I fear your aunt -could not.” - -“If I were willing,” answered Holly, evenly, “nothing else would -matter. But――you will tell me one thing? Do you――are you quite, quite -sure that you do not still love her――a little?” - -“Quite, Holly. The heart I offer, dear, is absolutely free.” - -“I think God did mean me to love you, then, after all,” said Holly, -thoughtfully. - -Winthrop arose and stood before her, and held out his hand. She placed -hers in it and with her eyes on his allowed him to raise her gently -toward him. - -“Then, Holly,” he said, “I ask you to be my wife, for I love you more -than I can ever tell you. Will you, Holly, will you?” - -“Yes,” sighed Holly. - -Very gently he strove to draw her to him but, with her hands against -his breast, she held herself at the length of his arms. - -“Wait,” she said. “Don’t kiss me until you are sure that you mean what -you’ve said, Robert――quite, quite sure. Because”――her eyes darkened, -and her voice held a fierceness that thrilled him――“because, dear, -after you have kissed me it will be too late to repent. I’ll never let -you go then, never while I live! I’ll fight for you until――until――――!” - -Her voice broke, and the lashes fell tremblingly over her eyes. -Winthrop, awed and stirred, raised the bowed head until her eyes, grown -soft and timid, glanced up at him once more. - -“Dear,” he said, very low and very humbly, “such as I am I am yours as -long as God will let me live for you.” - -He bent his head until his lips were on hers. - -The next instant she had buried her face against his shoulder, and he -felt her body shaking in his arms. - -“Holly!” he cried. “Holly! You’re crying! What is it, dear? What have I -done, Sweetheart?” - -For an instant she ceased to quiver, and from against his coat came a -smothered voice. - -“What’s the good of be-being happy,” sobbed Holly, “if you can’t -cr-cr-cry?” - -A breath of wind from the south swept through the wood, stirring the -tender leaves to rustling murmurs. And the sound was like that of a -little stream which, obstructed in its course, finds a new channel and -leaps suddenly on its way again, laughing joyously. - - -[Illustration: THE END] - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - ――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. - - ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. - - ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOLLY *** - -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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