WAITING FOR "THE VERDICT. 
 
 BY MRS. K. H. DAVIS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LIFE IN THE IHON MILLS," "MARGKET HOWTH," ETC. 
 
 "HOW WILL YOU BK TRIED?" 
 
 "Br GOD AND THE COUNTRY." 
 
 "GOD SEND YOU A GOOD DELITERAHCB." 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 SHELDON & COMPANY. 
 
 1868. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, 
 Br W. C. & F. P. CHURCH, 
 
 In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of NT Tork. 
 
7b my friend, who is a friend to all the weak and wronged 
 among God s creatures, they owe the few words which he urged 
 me to write on their behalf. It. H. D. 
 
 AUG 27, 1867. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 OVER THE FERRY. 
 
 NOVEMBER day, twenty 
 years ago. A chilly, pale, 
 weak-breathed, deadening day 
 everywhere ; up where the sun 
 glimmered feebly along through 
 a cold, watery sky: yonder, 
 where the sea yawned to the 
 horizon like lead : up the bay 
 where the water moodily 
 lapped the beach, while pink 
 gentians and saffron weeds mil 
 dewed and rotted in the salt 
 hay of the marshes. 
 
 Nothing had life in it but a 
 frosty air, which, as afternoon 
 came on, drove up the Dela 
 ware, nipping and sharp ; it 
 found the great flat Quaker 
 City locked in by the two lazy 
 rivers, going off into a sleep, 
 as it always did on the first 
 hint of night, like a ship be 
 calmed in a fog. Inside of the houses there were a million of centres 
 of heat, or love, or passion, but they all turned the same decorous, 
 impassive red and white faces to the pavement. Down on the 
 wharves, as twilight approached, the piled blocks of importers 
 warehouses, dark, steep, white-shuttered, stared over the hucksters 
 wagons, swarming at their feet in the shadow; chilly lines of bare 
 1 
 
6 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 masts sniveled in the wind over the uncouth bulky vessels hugging 
 the shore for warmth, for miles. 
 
 All the dreariness and dankness of the day grew dankest and 
 dreariest at the close of it. The keen wind tore and grated its way 
 through chinks and crannies. Even the boards of the ferry-boat 
 began to creak and crack with the frost, though there was a Maine 
 lumberman on one side, and a lime brig on the other, wedging and 
 warming her between their great hulks, which threw ponderous 
 shadows far up the wharf. 
 
 -^ Josh McNabb, the little ferry man, after bobbing about in these 
 shadows, rolling trucks and baskets aboard, dived down into his 
 cubby-hole of a cabin to light a smoky oil-lamp, and pulling on his 
 overcoat, and coming out, heartened himself by a look across at the 
 , upper windows over the tin shop on Race Street, where a sconce, 
 hung over the red half-curtains, showed that Jane had the pepper- 
 pot and coffee, piping hot for him. One more run, and he could 
 turn off before night. 
 
 There were but few passengers ; a little apple-cheeked woman, 
 coarsely dressed as a Quaker ; a mulatto boy, lying on his back on 
 some barrels tussling with a dog ; and his master, a thin, subdued 
 gentleman who sat in a chair, tilted back, smoking, and keeping a 
 steady watch on the streets abutting on the wharf. 
 
 " A country parson come up to town," Josh thought, " or else," 
 spitting knowingly, " a leg. A regular leg. Well gotten up." 
 
 Whenever he passed he scrutinized the man after that with a 
 policeman s eye ; the high velvet-collared overcoat and trousers he 
 wore were of dust-colored cloth, new, but old-fashioned from haying 
 been long laid away; his head was bald on top, a thin fringe of red 
 hair and whiskers framing a sandy-skinned face, the features of 
 which had (never been compacted together by any definite meaning ; 
 round, lightish eyes looked through a pair of spectacles at Josh, 
 at the dull town, and the inhospitable air, with a polite and depre 
 cating smile. 
 
 When he turned his head, still looking uneasily up the wharf, the 
 Quakeress called to him with a surprised chuckle of a laugh, 
 something between a chirrup and a hen s cluck, " Jeems Strebling, is 
 it thee, or thee sperrit ? " 
 
 The gentleman threw away his cigar, got up and came to her, hia 
 hat in his hand, his eyes going gravely over the pudding-shaped 
 little body and doll s face with its dancing blue -eyes. 
 
 " Miss Yates ! Ann Yates ! This is positively this is ! " 
 with a shallow laugh. " Yours is the first familiar face since I left 
 Alabama," bending over it with assumed rapt attention. " It 
 makes me young again yes." 
 
 "Young again? How s that? Eh, how s that?" sharply. 
 "Thee s well kept, Jeems; while I m scrubby, and shabby ancj 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 7 
 
 gray-haired," jerking back the scuffed bonnet from her frowsy white 
 hair with the same little chuckle. 
 
 " Well, well, well ! I m an old hack, friend Ann ; an old hack. 
 Consider, it s twenty years. But," with a sudden exaggerated 
 sprightliness, % " when I see the spirit in your eyes, I feel that I 
 have found the fabled fountain of youth. I feel " 
 
 " Yes," dryly. " Thee used to carry a good supply of feeling about 
 with thee, Jeems. Like Turnagon s ointment, warranted to suit 
 all cases. Thee s not altered, I think," with a shrewd, quick scan 
 ning of his face. 
 
 " And you ? " with a bow, while he looked anxiously over her 
 head at the dusky streets. 
 
 "No, I m Ann Yates still," tying her bonnet with a natty little 
 bow. " I m that goose without feathers, or crab without a shell a 
 Friend without money. But the Lord provides provides." 
 
 " Times have been rough, then ? " 
 
 " Only when I tried to earn my own bread and salt. I ve taught 
 in my day, and lectured, and scribbled for the Liberator. But I 
 am not a self-supporting agent. Once that I had made up my mind 
 to that, I put myself to higher work. Our society is a pioneer in 
 the world s progress, thee knows, and while it is clearing the land, 
 Ann Yates can grub, if nothing else. Grub. The victuals come. 
 Sometimes in the shape of corn-bread and apple-sauce, week in and 
 out. But they come. He takes care of that." 
 
 He adjusted his hat, but said nothing. Every man has a religion 
 of his own, and Strebling did not fancy hearing his God, who was 
 known to him through the music in the chapel, and some vague 
 grand notions of His old dealings with the Jews, degraded into a 
 purveyor of apple-sauce for this leaky-brained Yankee old maid. 
 
 " What s thee been doing, Jeems ? I ve seen thee name in Con 
 gress. Serving thee country ? " 
 
 " According to my lights," smiling, good humoredly. " On the 
 other side from yours." 
 
 " Yes ? Thee s had a wife ? And children ? " 
 
 " I lost Mrs. Strebling several years ago ; she was one of the Jar- 
 ratts, of Kentucky. But I have a boy, I thought I had told you. 
 Bob is eight years old, now," a quick, pleasant laugh in his face, and 
 a sudden color. 
 
 " Ta ta," slowly scanning his face again, " I ve heard it said 
 that the Messiah comes to everybody. I d like, Jeems, to see thee 
 boy." 
 
 " Yes. I ve been bringing Bob some trifles," pulling out a small 
 watch. " Do you like this, now ? It s Lupin s. The seals are 
 flashy, but it is for a boy s taste, you know," turning the glittering 
 trifles over and over in his hand. "It s a thing Bob needs a 
 watch." 
 
8 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " No doubt," looking at him with a quizzical, sad smile, " I ve 
 had but little to do with children. Thee never had but one ? " 
 
 Strebling put the watch in its case, and coiled the chain about it. 
 Then he dropped it into his pocket, slowly looking up. 
 
 " Never but the one ? No. Never but the one." He turned the 
 uneasy, frightened look again to the wharf, where the scattered 
 groups grew dim in the twilight. 
 
 " What s thee here for, Jeems ? Whew ! this wind has a snap in 
 it ! " getting up, and marching up and down, with a mannish, clip- 
 ping step, her fat hands clasped behind her round, little body, her 
 chin perked out. "What s thee here for? Just to look back a 
 bit, heh? Unrolling Clotho s ball of yarn, I call it. Well, that s 
 hearty. It does old fellows like us good to smell the air of our 
 youth if it was raw, like a foggy morning. So thee came all the 
 way from Alabama for that ? Peeping in the chinks at thee old 
 boy s play-ground? Well, well, that boy of thine would keep thee 
 nearer to thee youth. But I never had a child. Never will," passing 
 her forefinger thoughtfully over her eyebrow, again and again, as 
 she walked. 
 
 " The boy s old play-ground ? Yes, that is it," said Strebling, 
 taking off Ms hat, and settling it on his head, nervously preparing to 
 go back to his seat. While she shook hands, chirruped and clucked 
 about him, keeping the shrewd, blue eyes on his, his face suddenly 
 looked as if he had found the boy s old play-ground, full of damp, 
 unclean ghosts enough. 
 
 Yet all that he saw was an old man and a child coming through 
 the dusky cold across the wharf. One on each side of the great 
 Conestoga wagon, with its lumbering canvas top swaying from 
 side to side, and team of eight roadsters, each with his chime of bells 
 arched over his back. Strebling, when it came fairly in front of 
 him, drew himself back, growing yellow under his jaws ; he took off 
 his spectacles, as if to dim the sight ; he took snuff, he rubbed his 
 cold hands together. You would have thought that some dead 
 woman or man freed from the grave, for only that minute, was strug 
 gling to reach him from behind the drover s red face, or to speak in 
 his ponderous Whoas, and Gees. He went back stealthily to where 
 the bow of the boat pawed up and down in the muddy water, and 
 stood shivering in the clammy fog off of the river. 
 
 There never was anything less uncanny or ghostly than the hurly- 
 burly they made in getting that wagon on board ; in fact, there 
 never was anything more wide-awake or jolly than the whole turn 
 out. Any child along the Pennsylvania mountain roads could have 
 told you there were no beasts better fed, or sleeker haired than Joe 
 Burley s; and every bell on their backs had a special cheery ring 
 of its own. Nothing of the ghost in little Ross Burley, trotting 
 about, watching the operation, with a square basket of herbs on 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 9 
 
 each arm, just as her grandfather had picked her up from her stall 
 in the Pine Street Market. Marketing was dull work for Ross. 
 When she had hung her bunches of sage and thyme behind her, the 
 fun was over. 
 
 " Two for five pennies ; " or, " Seasoning for your capon, sir ? " was 
 as much as she said. Generally, she went to sleep. Old Scheffer, 
 the butcher, would laugh when this happened, and sell her herbs 
 for her ; he never woke her up. 
 
 To-day, however, some fish-brine had been slopped over her bench, 
 and Scheffer s boy jeered at her whenever she put her head out. So, 
 being a cleanly little thing, with a. dogged temper of her own, she 
 had cried instead of sleeping, tasting the tears to see how salt they 
 were. 
 
 Suddenly the market was filled with the sound of bells, as if a 
 holiday had broken loose in the air, and there, at the end of the 
 street, was the great Conestoga. The sun shining on its broad, red 
 body, and white tent-top, and the swinging trough underneath, and 
 the dog Brouse, and her grandfather, looking somehow like one of 
 Scheffer s sirloins of beef. Then everybody looked, and laughed, 
 and nodded at her, and ScheiFer s boy told her to " look alive ! " and 
 jumped about, sorting and packing her herbs. 
 
 Ross walked off beside the wagon, proud and swelling as a 
 pouter pigeon. The fact was, boarding about, from one alley to 
 another, she never had had a home like other children. Nor 
 mother; just Joe and the wagon. She was used to see people 
 crowd about it. The hucksters in the market, as here at the Ferry. 
 
 " How was beef in Berks ? " " Would poultry be down before 
 Christmas ? " etc. The great clean, stately wagon, with its train of 
 horses, its music, its smell of far-off fields and dairies, was a different 
 affair, rumbling through the city streets, from the pert little cabs 
 and stages slying around it. No wonder everybody looked after it 
 with queer and friendly smiles. But what did they know of the 
 wagon ? Josh, the ferry man. might bustle about it as he pleased, 
 and even know the trick of dropping the canvas, but Ross had 
 crossed the great snowy mountains on it, more than once. While 
 they were pulling, and shouting, and swearing, to bring the horses 
 on board, she stood near to Strebling, thinking of the snug little 
 kitchen inside, where she had cooked, and her bedroom in the sweet- 
 smelling hay, and her tiny house up by Joe s high seat, where he 
 told her stories all the Winter s day until night fell, as they plodded 
 through the solitary forests and black hills glowering closer on 
 either side, while the bells chimed in front, and the backs of the 
 horses grew dim in the thick falling snow. She hugged herself with 
 a snug sense of possession. It was nothing but a wagon to Josh, 
 and she was glad of it. 
 
 Meanwhile he and her grandfather were at vork with their sleeves 
 rolled up. 
 
10 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Them dog-goned critters," Joe said, " ud balk at this boat, if 
 twas ther last gasp." 
 
 Sap, the mulatto boy on the deck, plunged into the midst of them 
 with a shrill " whoop ! " He was a born hostler, that was plain ; so 
 long as he slapped their haunches, dabbed at their necks, swarmed 
 over them like a katydid on a log, they pricked up their ears and 
 made headway. 
 
 " Well done, boy ! " called out Ann Yates, at which the lad gave 
 a piping yell, and worked until the veins in his neck swelled. It set 
 his blood boiling with pleasure to be noticed by the white folks. 
 When wagon and horses were on board, he found Ross playing with 
 his dog, and stood, with his hands in his pockets, laughing all over, 
 opening and shutting his mouth without making a sound. Mr. 
 Strebling came near, looking down at the water swashing up against 
 the sides of the boat. 
 
 " I never saw a better dog than this," said Ross, with a grave lit 
 tle nod to the white man. 
 
 "Him s name s Luff," said Sap, " Ya ! Luff! He s my dog. Me 
 and Runnel Strebling hyur, fetched him from Alabama." 
 
 " I wish he was mine, then," said Ross. " I wish you would stand 
 off," in her shrill little voice to Sap. The dirty yellow skin of the 
 mulatto made her sick, she was sure ; it was the same as if a toad 
 or snake had stood upright, to see his grimaces and monkey tricks 
 of delight at being kindly spoken to. She wished he was dead, and 
 out of the way on the boat, and was sure that, if she had been a 
 boy, she would have thrown the yellow, grinning thing into the 
 water. 
 
 " Go off! They want you at the horses again," with a domineer 
 ing nod. Sap only drew back, watching her with a sullen, jealous 
 scowl, as she " wrestled " with the dog. There was a good deal of 
 the material of the man in Ross s little body ; her quiet little face 
 grew red, and she lost her breath, in holding the big brute down ; 
 she was determined that the beast should know that she was 
 stronger than he. When she thought that he knew it, and lay with 
 his jaws between his fore paws on her knees, she patted his neck, 
 and put her arms about it. 
 
 " He s a very good dog, I think," she said to Mr. Strebling. 
 
 "Ah? the dog? What s your name, now? What did you say 
 your name was, my child ? " in a cowed, frightened way, passing 
 his hand rapidly over his foxy bit of moustache as he spoke. 
 
 " Ross, Rosslyn Comly," with a sober, surprised look. 
 
 " Comly ? You re a blue-eyed girl, Rosslyn, hey ? No ? Bro vvn ? 
 And yellow hair? Yel-low hair," beating a tattoo with his silver 
 pencil on his square, white teeth, his gray eyes set and watery be 
 hind his spectacles, as if the dead face had succeeded in coming 
 very near, indeed. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 11 
 
 Ross never had been scanned so keenly before. " It is yellow," 
 the little girl said, and as she was a thorough woman, though yet 
 in the calyx, she looked down, hot to her feet, with sharp shame and 
 guilt in that her nose was a snub, and that there were no eyebrows 
 as yet on her freckled face, worth mentioning. 
 
 " And you sit in the market ? Selling herbs, and radishes yes ? 
 My black people sit in the market " 
 
 The boat was under way ; it was growing darker ; nobody saw 
 him as he caught the little red, rough hand under the dog s shaggy 
 hide, holding it tightly a moment. 
 
 %< God help me ! " said James Strebling. 
 
 Then he caught a whiff of the fish-brine on her frock, and drop 
 ped the hand, putting his glove on his own, which shook like a 
 drunkard s, as he walked away. " It is a most unpleasant odor 
 that from the markets," he said to the Quakeress. (It was notice 
 able that he stood at ease again when talking to her.) "An un 
 usual combination in this little girl s face, eh ? brown eyes and 
 clear, yellow hair." 
 
 " Um yes. There s a good deal of outcome in the face," looking 
 at Ross through her half shut eyes as if she had been a curious 
 beetle. 
 
 " Mrs. Strebling had a strong antipathy to yellow hair. I used 
 to wish to bring home a little girl. But if she had looked like this 
 one, now, Mrs. Strebling would not have tolerated her. It would 
 have been a hell upon earth for the child." 
 
 Ann Yates continued to patrol the deck with him, thinking that 
 twenty years inside of the fences of his plantation had starved poor 
 ^Teems Strebling s brain to inanition. Meanwhile, he stopped once 
 and again near Ross, talking to her, the mulatto lounging near to 
 listen. One thing, Mr. Strebling said : " I mean to be a good friend 
 to you, child. It is not my fault if I have been late," looking over 
 her head, into the muddy depth of river fog and the scattered red 
 sparks of ligho along shore, as though there was another than the 
 child before whom he pleaded not guilty. Stepping off with the 
 Quakeress again, he stiffened his lean, padded body complacently, as 
 if an approving conscience within cried, Bravo. There was a wide 
 gap, he knew, between the little herb-girl, with her briny smells, 
 and the easy-going planter, half of whose days were spent with " , 
 the rare old dramatists of Anne s time, and the other half on the 
 race-course. But he had crossed it, and she was grateful, doubtless. 
 
 Ross was pulling the dog about, contriving a saddle for him, now 
 that he was hers. Sap came in front of her, standing erect. " He s 
 my dog, Luff," his sullen face sharpening savagely, as he spoke to 
 the " poor white trash." 
 
 " I gave him to the girl just now," said the colonel, carelessly, in 
 passing. Ross laughed tauntingly, glad that she was white, and 
 
12 WAITING B OR THE VERDICT. 
 
 stronger than this yelloAV moixter of a boy ; except a pet fox of her 
 grandfather s and Scheffer s boy, she never had hated anything so 
 much before ; never. She put her foot on the dog s neck, just to 
 vex him. Luff licked her hand. 
 
 Sap stood quite still a moment, then he went to his master, fol 
 lowing him, step by step, cringing, his stealthy, dangerous eye on 
 his face, his tones unusually clear : 
 
 " Mars Jeems, Luff kent go. He s mine." Coming closer, the 
 voice sharper and more wiry, when there was no answer, " Luff s not 
 one of the Strebling dogs, Kunnel. He wur a pup of Cap n Grant s 
 as had the distemper, and Cap n, he give him to me. Hyur, Sap, 
 he says. I ve nussed him dese two years ; he s well, now. He s 
 mine." 
 
 Mr. Strebling would have passed on, shaking off the fellow with 
 a lazy look of annoyance, but the Quakeress stopped to look at 
 him. 
 
 " Well, well, boy, suppose the dog your s though it s plain it s 
 a lie hatched up to trip me. You shall be paid for it. Leave th* 
 girl alone." 
 
 " You ll give it to her, Mas r Jeems ? " 
 
 Strebling looked at him. Something in the gleam of the light/ 
 gray eye made the mulatto cower back. 
 
 Ross stood up, her face burning. " The dog is not yours," sho 
 said to Mr. Strebling, fierce as a little game pullet. " The black 
 boy is not so mean as you. Be gone ! " driving Luff from her 
 
 Strebling stroked his beard delightedly at the blaze of temper 
 " It s a sign of good blood," nodding knowingly to Ann Yates 
 " The dog shall not belong to Sap again, my good girl." 
 
 "Mars Jeems never goes back of his word," laughed the mulat 
 to, shrilly. 
 
 " No. I never do." 
 
 As the Quakeress and his master passed the boy from time to 
 time, they saw him standing quite quiet, his hand on the dog s 
 head, looking out steadily into the river, not conscious that they 
 were near him. Ross had gone over to her grandfather, sturdily 
 turning her back on them. 
 
 " But Luff is her s, boy," snapped his master. It angered him to 
 be thwarted in the first kindness he showed to the child. 
 
 " Yes, mars ," submissively. 
 
 Ann Yates looked at the boy sharply. Nothing but an animal 
 which a few dollars could buy or sell ; shambling, under-sized, loose- 
 jointed, a puny, yellow face, out of which stared the treacherous, 
 melancholy eyes of his race. Yet some trick of expression caught 
 her shrewd eye ; the knobbed, protruding forehead, the discontent, 
 the appetite for something better than his brute life had yet known. 
 
 " It s the white blood in him ! " she said aloud. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 13 
 
 "Eh! How?" 
 
 "He ll balk thee yet." 
 
 Mr. Strebling smiled superciliously. " Poor Sap ! " he said. 
 " The boy has a curious mechanical talent. My wife brought him , 
 in from the stables. But these niggers wont bear coddling. He 
 has the insolence of the devil." 
 
 The Quaker was right. Just before the boat grated on the shore, j 
 they heard a whine from the dog, and saw a rill of scarlet blood \f\)> 
 creeping over the planks. The little mulatto knelt with staring eyes 
 beside him on the deck, his arms about Luff s neck, smelling his 
 breath, just as they had slept for two years in the stable-loft at home. 
 The boy s colorless face looked unusually small and childish, yet 
 clammy sweat had come out on it, such as pain wrings from a man. 
 The poor brute s dim eyes were fixed on it, and he tried feebly to 
 lick the boy s sleeve where it touched his jaws. 
 
 " Did you do this ? " said Mr. Strebling. 
 
 The mulatto nodded ; but he did not take his look off of the dog g 
 face until its eyes grew glassy ; then he lifted one paw, and let it 
 fall heavily to the ground. 
 
 "He wur all I had," he said. His teeth chattered, his eyes 
 closed, a chill crept over the limp little body. 
 
 " Dear me ! dear me ! Epileptic. These half-breeds are terribly 
 diseased in body and mind ! " said good-humored Mr. Strebling, 
 who hated a scene; and he walked away, nervously, a moment 
 after. 
 
 The Quaker looked down at the forlorn little figure with the 
 muddy water oozing up about it, then out at the dusky river, at 
 the plane of gray, unanswering sky. It seemed to her as if they 
 opened to her suddenly, dark, dateless years, before either she or 
 this boy was born ; slow generations of slavery and vice which 
 had conceived and brought forth this diseased little animal, and left 
 him at her feet. Washed him there, a dreg of the great ebbing 
 tide. 
 
 " And I m Ann Yates, half crazy, they say, and kept by charity. 
 What should I have to do for him, in God s name ? " would have 
 been her thought nakedly put in words. But she only stood, her 
 restless head for once quiet, gravely looking down at him, while 
 Ross, who had stolen round, stooped across the dog, her lips apart, 
 tugging at his coat. He opened his eyes at last, and got up slowly, 
 pulled the dusty felt hat on his head askew, and clasped his hands 
 Dehind his neck, a trick the boy had when tired. 
 
 " He ll never lick anybody s hand but ole Sap s now, I reckon," 
 with a grin. 
 
 Ross waited a moment, growing red and pale by turns. When she 
 came a step or two closer to the little mulatto : 
 
 "I think that was a very good dog," she said, in a weak little 
 
14 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 quaver ; and then, after one or two breathless gasps, she put out her 
 hand and took the yellow fingers in hers. 
 
 The boat was moored by this time with a heavy jerk. Through 
 the darkness you could hear the rumbling of the great Conestoga 
 wagon going on shore, the jingling of the bells, and Joe s bass 
 voice shouting for Ross. 
 
 " Well, good-night," she said, gently, and ran off, gladly enough. 
 
 Sap, who had stood cringing as long as she talked to him, sat 
 down again, and put his face on the dog s cold hide. He heard his 
 master calling, but the sound came to him dully through the dark 
 and cold. It was dark and cold, that was all he knew ; that, and 
 the weight of old Luff, who would not creep close to him to-night 
 for warmth. He would never waken to bark at the moon, and then 
 snuggle into the straw, licking his hand, again. Never again. 
 
 Presently a warm hand touched him. " Here, boy, I must have 
 a word with thee," said Ann Yates. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ECHOES. 
 
 THE tiny square house among the bags up by Joe s high seat 
 never was so cosy or warm as now, when the wagon with its ring 
 ing chimes in front plunged into the mysterious night, turning its 
 back on the dull river, and the greasy lamps and dog s red blood and 
 trouble there. Ross turned the back of her thoughts on them, too. 
 She had meant to cry a great deal immediately for that dog, and 
 perhaps stay awake all night. But first she and her grandfather 
 had an anxious time to find Brouse, and when they were once started, 
 there were so many subjects of interest lying over since he went 
 out to Berks County on Saturday, that she hardly could find words 
 fast enough. 
 
 She had not heard yet how Bet s lame foot was, or if Geoff had 
 
 got rid of that cough, or how often the Major had contrived to fall 
 
 . this trip. There certainly never were eight horses that contrived to 
 
 pick up so many ailments, she was sure. Joe s growl broke in 
 
 deprecatingly : 
 
 " I dunno. Sweetheart about that. I wouldn t go so far as that. 
 They be a good lot, t seems to me. Seems as if they wur old 
 friends, to me," tapping the broad backs of the wheelers. 
 
 " Oh, of course I know I didn t mean " the words tumbling 
 out headlong, she not being sure how much the " old friends " had 
 understood, or been hurt. " They re good stock, too, Josh McNabb 
 says. They re blooded horses, every one, he says." 
 
 " Blood don t weigh so much with me as with other folks blood 
 don t," said Joe, hastily, a sharp twang in his tone. " Don t you 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 15 
 
 ketch them notions, Rossline. When you ve got a horse," medita 
 tively, " with a good pull from each jint, and a clear eye, and a 
 stiddy gait, starting from the handles, it be better n your high 
 pacers, full of nerves and tricks. As with horses, so with men." 
 
 Ross nodded emphatically. Joe~ Burley fell into a profound 
 silence, chewing the cud of his remark. Once his conscience stung 
 him, apparently. " Was I rough with you, gal ? " turning his broad, 
 red face on her quickly. 
 
 Ross only laughed for reply, laying her head in its woolen hood 
 on his knee, which was broad and soft as a feather pillow. Joe 
 touched her shut eyelids with his stubby finger, smoothed the 
 lashes. 
 
 " So ? So ? You and your grandad be good chums, hey, Sweet 
 heart ? But them notions about blood be like pison to me." 
 
 Now and then, afterward, Joe coughed, and mumbled something 
 more about "blood." The unusual idea in his brain was as troub 
 lesome as a pike floundering in a muddy pool ; it would neither go 
 out, nor be quiet. Ross, with a vague notion that he was in trouble, 
 patted his knee with her hand, as if she beat a soft tune. But it 
 was a very good place up there. What with her fragrant baskets 
 at her feet, and Joe s mountainous figure bounding her in, and the 
 supper she knew of at home, she was filled with a -general herby, 
 affectionate, enough-to-eat perception of the world, as warm and 
 relishing as was possible. 
 
 Yet the night yawned about them outride of the wagon, cold and 
 immeasurable. There were no stars overhead ; no landmarks of 
 fences or houses ; they were plunging into a gray, empty gulf that 
 extended, very likely, clear to the edge of the world ; there was 
 nothing to define it but the timed ringing of the horses bells and 
 the baying of a dog, far oif. Whether out of sympathy with his 
 master, or for some other cause, Brouse, under the wagon, barked 
 restlessly again and again. Ross cuddled in closer to her grand 
 father ; it was colder and silenter than any night that she remembered. 
 And to make the silence more intense, she had a vague conscious 
 ness of stealthy footsteps following them along the road ; steadily, 
 now near, now further off. It was but fancy ; when she set her ears 
 to listen, the noise was gone, or proved to be only her grandfather s 
 stertorous breathing. 
 
 Once, however, Joe raised his head from his yarn jacket. "Did 
 you hear anything a follerin, Ross ? " pulling up the horses, but 
 not looking back. Ross thought he was afraid ; he did not wait to 
 hear her answer; put his hand up behind his ear, to listen. 
 
 " It s nothin ," wiih a whistle to the horses of relief. " Once or 
 twice in my life I ve heard steps a follerin of me," he said ,in a sub 
 dued voice, when they were rumbling on again. " Different ones 
 has different signs sent when death s comin , you see. Some hears 
 
16 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 a piping like a whistle in a high wind, and some hears a crack like a 
 whip-handle laid on heavy on the door-post. But I don t look for 
 no warnin of death. My fears don t lie that way ; I kin be soon 
 ready when the Good Man sends word. I ve done my dooty to the 
 beasts and my customers. I ll say good-by to the little gal and " 
 he stopped there to pat Ross head. 
 
 Joe had painted this heroic exit of his so often that he rather en 
 joyed it. But it was always new and bitter to the child. 
 
 " Well, don t you fret, little Sister. I m rugged yet, thank God. 
 But there has been steps a follerin me, more than once," in a whis 
 per. " It was no living foot as made them." 
 
 " Well, now, grandad, death did not come," said Ross, wetting her 
 dry lips with her tongue. 
 
 " No. Not death. Wuss. Never you mind what it was," rous 
 ing himself. " There s been times when I thought it would touch 
 you. But your grandfather s body s big enough to put between 
 you and that." 
 
 The night became less vague as he spoke, a gray, luminous line 
 defining the horizon where the moon was rising buildings, trees, 
 the old mill began to loom out of the space, yet, it was but as 
 shadows of their real, daylight shapes. The silence grew painful to 
 Ross strained ear ; then there struck across it a man s step, far off, 
 light, furtive, coming nearer nearer. It was gone as suddenly as it 
 came. 
 
 She looked up into Joe s face; it was vacant. He had heard 
 nothing. 
 
 " I fancied I saw a thing to-night as brought old times up," said 
 he, trying to force back his old cheerfulness. " That s what set me 
 on this graveyard talk, and to thinking that tramp-trampin was 
 behind us." 
 
 Ross said nothing. 
 
 They were beyond Camden now, turning off into the turnpike 
 road, which ran through patches of wood, and Jersey truck farms. 
 The moon shone out clearly. The steps were no longer hear 1 .. 
 The air grew wholesome and life-like. 
 
 Ross sat up looking at the cobwebs on the fences, white anu 
 rimy in the moonlight. When she was young, she used to believe 
 in iairies, and that they dressed themselves out of that stuff, some 
 how. She was very sure there were no such things now. Quite 
 sure. 
 
 Down along the sea-coast, where her grandfather went in Winter 
 to buy furs and wild fowl for the New York market, they used to 
 tell her, in the farm-houses, very different stories from those. 
 About the crew of a Spanish brig, wrecked a hundred years ago, 
 who patrolled the beach every night, guarding their treasure buried 
 in the sand. Sometimes, in the full of the moon, you wouM hear 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 17 
 
 their knock-knocking, trying to piece together the fragments of 
 their old crumbling wreck, and see their broad plumed hats and cloaks 
 on the shore, but when you came near, the sounds died into the 
 beat of the surf, and the waving feathers, and fluttering mantles 
 seemed to be but the foam and dash of the incoming tide. Now 
 that was a story that one could know was true. And there was a 
 tradition that, if any one would bring a boat to carry them away 
 from this unhappy country, and leave it moored over night, in 
 the morning it would be gone, and heaped on the beach thsre would 
 be a king s ransom of jewels. Now, that was a good plan to have 
 for the future. She had begun several times to save up her money 
 lor that boat. She often talked to her grandfather of the house 
 they would build some day, though she did not enter into the par 
 ticulars. It would need a good deal of courage to go with the boat 
 alone. She would tell him when it was done. 
 
 " Hillo ! here be home ! " shouted Joe as the wagon drew up in 
 front of a house as square, and short, and dumpy, as Ross herself. 
 Only a month ago Joe had bought that house but it had a home 
 face from the first day. There was a door-step that children s feet 
 had worn, and beehives and old apple trees in the garden, and 
 wrens in the eaves, and crickets in the broad, stone hearth, and a 
 gray, sleepy cat who came in and lay down before the kitchen fire 
 as soon as it was lighted. A difference between this and boarding- 
 house in city alleys ! A house, and stable, and beehives, and 
 lilacs, and hollyhocks like these, had a flavor of home to old Joe 
 and the girl which they could never have to people who had not 
 roosted over corner groceries, and looked out on vacant lots heaped 
 with ashes and potato peelings, through hot Summer days. 
 
 Brouse had all the lazy, lif e-is-long air of a thoroughbred coun 
 try dog already ; and Geoff, and the Major, and the very old Con- 
 estoga itself, knew home, and, Ross thought, really believed they 
 had always lived there. The barking, and creaking, and neighing, 
 when they stopped at the gate, quite broke up the stillness of the 
 whole night, while Ross laugh and Joe s subdued bellow, formed 
 the ground and top of the confusion. 
 
 She danced an impatient little jig on the foot-board of the wagon 
 in her hurry to be taken down. She had no time to waste, she could 
 tell them. There was the fire to stir up and the supper to get, and 
 no makeshift of a supper, either. She ran up the path, pulling off 
 her mittens, stopping to break off some boughs and leaves from 
 bushes near the door; stopping, too, a minute to think this was her 
 ground and her grandfather s, with as keen a sense of ownership as 
 any king s in the great Babylon which he had built. She sunk the 
 soles of her shoes into the tan-bark walk, thinking it was theirs; 
 ( down to the very centre of the world theirs. Ross was a hrays sure 
 of standing on her own ground, and felt her feet firm under her, 
 2 
 
18 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 though she was but nine years old ; which gave her that gracious, 
 hospitable manner toward other people, so curious in her. 
 
 It was an hour before Burley had fed and stowed away his horses 
 for the night, and had washed himself, and combed his thin, gray 
 hair into two flat quirls on either side of his sun-baked face. Then 
 he took off his leather leggins, whisked clean his trousers, and muddy 
 shoes. He was dressing, as usual, for supper part of his vague sys 
 tem of lifting the little girl up out from his own level, to he scarcely 
 knew where. Coming up on the porch, he stepped softly, and peeped 
 in the window. If any evil steps had followed him, or if any re 
 lentless eyes watched him through the night, the sight pf his face, 
 set broad and glowing in the square patch of red light thrown out 
 by the window, might have turned them aside. For, broad as it was, 
 and unshapely, a mass of flabby, fat wrinkles, the dullest eyes might 
 have found in it something akin to all that was delicate and tender 
 in the little child within. If little Sweetheart was oddly clean and 
 whimsical in her tricks of movement about her work, or if she 
 threw her whole strength into it, it was from Sweetheart s grand 
 father the traits came to her ; that was plain. 
 
 While he stood looking in, no sound apparently reached him other 
 than the crackling of the wood fire inside, or the sputtering of Ross 
 cookery; but suddenly he straightened himself, and again put his 
 hand behind his ear. Light, stealthy steps came up the moonlit 
 road, and, as Burley crept cautiously toward the gate, the shadow of 
 a man passing fell on it, and disappeared in the dark lane made by 
 the undergrowth along the fence. 
 
 Burley followed him. When he came back, he went directly into 
 the house, the dull vacancy gone from his face with which he had 
 talked to Ross of the supernatural terrors. 
 
 " Hillo, little un ! " he said, cheerfully, and sat down with a hand 
 on each knee, to watch her cookery ; but a something in the cool, gray 
 eyes, and heavy, stern jaws, which she had never seen before, made 
 Ross turn once and again to look at him. He was as grave, she 
 thought, as when he spelled out their chapter in the Bible at night. 
 But the truth was, the thing he had feared had come upon him at last ; 
 the danger was imminent, the hope of escape small. Burley meant 
 to fight it out like a man ; but not then nor there. He barred the 
 windows, shut tight the door ; at least she should know nothing 
 until he was safe or defeated. 
 
 Meanwhile Ross dished the supper, setting and resetting the blue 
 delft plates on the table with her burned little hands. She had a 
 keen palate for good cookery, being a healthy, quick-nerved little 
 body. Her dishes were always seasoned and done to a turn. There 
 was a heap of fried chicken, each piece a golden brown ; there was 
 a yellow mound of potatoes ; there were creamy turnips, and in the 
 middle, silvery stalks of celery in a tray, bedded in red and bronze 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 19 
 
 beet leaves, and the rich, curled, crisp fringes of green parsley. Joe 
 laughed at this last. 
 
 " Your mother was full of such notions," he said, as he pulled a 
 chair to the table ; " you favor her in all your little whims, Sweet 
 heart. Sech as your fancy for wearirig dark blue gowns and hanging 
 bits of moss and flowers in your hair." 
 
 The words seemed to give him a hint, which he caught eagerly ; 
 during the supper he found a thousand ways to bring up the same 
 theme " your mother ; " choking back whatever effort it cost him. 
 Ross had heard her name but seldom before. 
 
 "My mother died when I was born. I m an orphan," with a 
 grave little nod, saying what she had learned by rote, years ago, 
 going on eating composedly. 
 
 Burley sat smoking by the fire when their supper was over, until 
 the dishes were cleared away, and Ross came up for her seat on his 
 knee ; then he put the pipe up on the clock, and lifted her up, 
 smoothing her yellow hair back. 
 
 "It be arly, little sister. You needn t go to bed for an hour. 
 Marget your mother was a main hand for sittin late when she 
 was young, as when she was older, and my old woman give her 
 her own rein her own rein ; too much, maybe. She wur sech a purty 
 creetur, she was so dear to us, that we liked her in sight, that s the 
 truth. So ther she d sit at nights, as it might be here, and yander 
 ud be Robert Comly." 
 
 "My father," said the little girl, parrot-like, with another nod. 
 " He s dead. I am an orphan," taking a string of blue beads out of 
 her pocket, and holding them up in the firelight. 
 
 Burley patted her hand in his. When he spoke, it was with an 
 unnatural voice, like an unwilling witness forced before the jury. 
 " Robert Comly. There was no better carpenters than the Com- 
 lys, father and son, in Kensington. Bob was a thorough-through 
 boy from the start. Fond of his joke, but true as steel twice het. 
 After old Comly died, Bob he sort o turned to me fur advice and 
 the like. But it was his likin for Marget was at the bottom of it, 
 I knowed." 
 
 " So then she married him ? " said Ross, looking up from her 
 beads. When she saw her grandfather s face, her eyes did not 
 leave it again. He turned away, looking in the fire, his hand mov 
 ing restlessly over his stubbly whiskers and hiding his mouth. 
 Ross threw her beads on a chair, put her hands on his shoulders. 
 
 " We ll talk of something else," she said, decisively. "This isn t 
 pleasant talk for you, grandad." 
 
 " Ther s nothin onpleasant to remember about Robert Comly, 
 shaking off her light touch, doggedly. " He got to be like my own 
 son that lad. You see we never had a son, and when Marget 
 come, late in the day like, it was a disappointment to me. I 
 
20 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 wanted a boy. But I was mighty fond of Bob ; he was a steddy 
 fellar. Now, Marget was a peart little thing she never liked 
 advice from the day she went into short clothes. But when she 
 growed up sech a purty creetur, and our hearts was so knif vp in 
 her, mother she says, Let Marget marry Bob Comly, say*, she, 
 * and then, Joe, you ll have son and da ater, too. You kin have em 
 both, she says." 
 
 " Then they were married," said Ross, gently. " I know the rest 
 of it," her anxious scrutiny never relaxed from his face. " Now 
 the story is done, grandad, will you put coals on the fire ? It is 
 cold." 
 
 But Burley prosed on. " That s the very hick ry cheer he used 
 to sit in at nights that Winter. He made this one covered with 
 8heep-skin for me Bob did. I never knowed a steddier fellar than 
 Bob Comly. There never was a man used me fairer. Ef I ever 
 meet him in the country where he s gone I ll not forget it to him. 
 But it seems to me, to-night, ther s a poor look out for that ! " with 
 a sharp, -hard laugh, after a pause. He cut a big plug of tobacco 
 and thrust it in his mouth, then clasped his hands over his head, his 
 jaws working, his uneasy eye avoiding hers. "Mother and Bob 
 are safe enough on the other side of the river your hymes sing 
 about, Rossline. But as things is turnin out, Joe Burley ain t the 
 sort that goes that road. Well, no matter !" 
 
 Ross put her frightened little hands about his neck. 
 
 " Shall I sing for you now, grandad ? " 
 
 " No. For God s sake, let me be, Rossline, I ve hard lines before 
 me to-night. Let me work it out my own fashion. Talking of Bob 
 Comly and the way he took, 11 be more help to me than all the 
 hymes in the book." 
 
 The fire burned low ; Ross slid down and replenished it unnoticed ; 
 she crept back between his knees, looking up at him. She would 
 be a woman some day, and, after the habit of women, could not 
 leave any one with their trouble in quiet, but must peer curiously 
 into it, to cry over it afterward, and fill her own heart with aching 
 and pity. Burley stared stolidly in the fire ; some hard, ugly lines 
 which had marked his face when he was a boy and counted a 
 black sheep," came out slowly on it to-night ; a scar that dragged 
 one eyelid down grew red and sinister ; older and more analytic 
 eyes than little Ross might have fancied that the man, as well as 
 the features that indexed the man, were sinking back into some old 
 mould which they had nearly outgrown. 
 
 But the little girl only gathered a vague notion of the best way 
 to soothe him. "So Robert Comly and Marget were married?" 
 she said, using his words. 
 
 " Yes ; they wur married." 
 
 " And my mother died the day after I was born ? My pretty 
 mother ! Am I as pretty as Marget ? " 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 21 
 
 Burley smiled at the grave little face. " No, Sweetheart, you 
 kent be that. You favor the Burleys. You ve got her eyes and 
 hair, but you re stouter built, tougher grain. It s no loss its " 
 he was suddenly silent. 
 
 " The day after I was born ? " the little girl s eyes grew heavy 
 under the strait lashes. " Did she look at me ? Did she take any 
 notice of me, or kiss me ? Where did she kiss me ? " lifting her 
 hand to her face, uncertainly. 
 
 " She give you into my arms," said Joe, slowly. " She kissed 
 you all over your wee face a hundred times, I reckon ; then she give 
 you into my arms. I hadn t teched you before. Me and Robert 
 Comly wur alone with her that day. Mother was dead long afore. 
 I m glad whenever I think of her being gone afore that day. I 
 reckon, maybe, she never knowed yonder of what had happened /t* ..^i 
 down here the Good Man is merciful." 
 
 " Well she gave me into your arms," prompted Rosslyn. 
 
 Joe choked a heavy breath that shook his solid chest, beginning 
 to chew violently. " Yes, she did, Rossline. All she d said that 
 day was my little, little baby, huggin and cryin it over you, with 
 the breath goin fast from her. I didn t know it wur goin ; or I 
 couldn t have left her alone. But I would neither look at her nor 
 tech her." He put Rosslyn off from him and covered his face with 
 his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. 
 
 " I often think how we left her alone. Neither father nor hus 
 band nor God, agoin through that dark vally. You was all she 
 had, she knowed that. She clung to you to the last. Then she give 
 you into my arms. It s my poor little baby, father, she said. I 
 tuk you from her. I couldn t help but do that." 
 
 He got up and walked irresolutely across the floor. 
 
 "But I left her. alone agin. I laid the baby down and stood by 
 the chimbley-side, with my back to the bed." 
 
 He stopped, leaning heavily on the mantle-shelf, the scar and 
 blotches looking purple on his pale face. " That was Marget the 
 purty creeter as had been my only child ; I turned my back to her." 
 
 Ross stood facing him with bewildered eyes. " But my father 
 Robert Comly?" 
 
 The old man stopped. " No man could have acted fairer than 
 Bob Comly. I said that. He wur very kind. We wur down in 
 Bucks county then ; when we come up to town, he bided with me, 
 and kept his own counsel. He knowed as it wur none of my fault. 
 He give you yer name, Rossline Comly. It was for my sake he 
 did it." 
 
 " He died the next year," said Ross, repeating her long learned 
 lesson. " That was how I came to be an orphan." 
 
 Burley held up his hand, sharply, to listen. Ross fancied she 
 heard a man s approaching steps without, slow and light. 
 
22 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 "It be late, little gal," said her grandfather, hurriedly. "It s 
 been a messable evening, that s true. Yer eyes are sunk in yer 
 head. You be off to bed, Sweetheart." 
 
 He watched her anxiously as she made ready. " Don t you mind, 
 Rossline, if you hear a noise of talking down below ; I ve got into 
 that way lately when I m vexed in my mind." When she came to 
 bid him good-night, he swung her up in his arms, with one of 
 his broad, hearty smiles breaking out over his red face. 
 
 " You re a lucky-looking child, Rossline," turning up her face by the 
 chin. " I reckon the Good Man has a keer of you. Seein you makes 
 me think I ll get through this bout safely," and kissed her lightly on 
 the mouth as he put her down. He watched her going up the 
 crooked stairs, and listened, half smiling, to her firm little tread 
 overhead listened after he had taken up his place with his back to 
 the fire, and waited for the other steps that had brought worse than 
 death to his threshold years ago, and that, each moment came closer 
 without. 
 
 Yet Burley s superstitious terror seemed fantastic enough, for 
 when the footsteps were followed by a knock, and the entrance of a 
 man, it was only the subdued-looking, sandy-haired gentleman off 
 of the ferry-boat, who stood smiling pleasantly before him. 
 
 " I knew you were within, Burley " holding out his hand " so 
 I came in without a bidding." 
 
 " It wurn t likely, James Strebling, as I should call you inside 
 of my door agin." 
 
 The other man colored and giggled feebly, rubbing his hands to 
 gether as if reminded of an awkward mistake. " Now, Burley, you 
 do not keep a grudge for old debts, eh, hey? I came here from 
 Alabama purposely to talk matters over with you, one man of sense 
 with another. I thought, I m one practical fellow, and Burley is 
 another, and there ll be no trouble in adjusting those old affairs. 
 But, God bless me ! how you ve altered ! " finding his way to a 
 chair, and peering through his spectacles with an attempt at easy 
 carelessness. 
 
 The old wagoner remained standing immovable before the fire ; 
 he had not lifted his eyes from the floor since Strebling entered. 
 
 " Yes, I be altered. For two years after you d done your work 
 and left here, I hunted you through them Southern States like a 
 weasel in its hole. I d but one thing to do in life to put the muzzle 
 of my pistol up to your cowardly brain. Now I hid from you to 
 night. I d give my right arm if you and me had not crossed paths 
 agin ! yes, I would." 
 
 Strebling was not a coward ; besides, when men are cool enough 
 to talk about murder, the danger is over ; but he was shocked more 
 than he liked to own. Burley looked like one of his own oxen 
 standing there; yet it occurred to the gentleman for the first time 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 23 
 
 to question how much hurt that old peccadillo of his had done to 
 the fellow ; just as he might have done if he had struck an ox with 
 his rattan. Then he caught what Burley was saying in a hard, quiet 
 voice, curiously divested of all oaths or roughness. 
 
 " You p isoned my life for me once. I was jest beginning to take 
 some pleasure in it when you come agin. I ve been tryin to make 
 myself fit to raise the gal : she s got no father or mother beyont me. 
 Ther has been times when the world was so friendly about me that 
 I tried to make excuses for even you, James Strebling. But now, 
 as you ve thrust yerself in my way " 
 
 He lifted his face, turning the small eyes, bloodshot and red, on 
 him for the first time. 
 
 Strebling sprang up, threw down his hat and cane, and coming 
 straight up to the old man, looked him in the face. 
 
 " Look here ! I m not a bad man, Burley. That was a damnably 
 shabby trick of mine. I know that. But before God I meant to 
 come back and marry Margaret. I never intended that she should 
 be foisted on another man. Come " after a pause " you sowed 
 wild oats yourself once. You know a man does not count on the 
 harvest, when He drew back a step suddenly, and stood on 
 guard, watching Burley as he would a beast about to spring at his 
 throat. 
 
 " Besides," cautiously, when the old man shifted his position, " let 
 us have peace between us for the girl s sake." 
 
 "What is Rossline to you? It s late in the day; Rossline is 
 Marget s da ater. Ther s not a drop of her father s blood in her 
 body." 
 
 " Now, Burley, you are very intemperate. It has not been my 
 fault that I have not claimed the child sooner in the day, as you put 
 it. Whatever James Strebling s faults may be, no one can accuse 
 him of being a harsh father. And this child should have been taken 
 home long ago, and as tenderly cared for as Rob, if my wife had 
 not been living. She s dead now." 
 
 Burley turned his ox-like face, baffled and alarmed. It was 
 some time before the fear found its way from his muddled brain into 
 words. 
 
 " You be the child s father, an that gives you some hold on her 
 by law, may be. I don t know. I don t believe that it do. Ther s 
 a lot of common sense in them hard law-words in general. You ve 
 been only a curse an misfortin to Rossline since before she was 
 born, an I laid myself out to sarve her since I took her in my arms 
 a grooling baby. If she s wanted anything it s been because Joe 
 Burley s wit and strength giv out in getting it for her. What do 
 you want of her ? You ve got your friends and your son, and nig 
 gers and land ; but that little gal s the only thing on arth that s 
 worth thrippence to me. I ve out-growed all the rest. Mother s 
 
24 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 dead and Marget all of them, only that yellow-haired little un 
 that keeps a growin into me, day by day, like a part of myself. 
 No, I don t believe any law ill give her to you. I ll see to-morrow." 
 
 Strebling observed him warily a moment, then with a sudden 
 ingenuous air, exclaimed, " You re wrong, Burley all wrong ; the 
 law gives me no claim on her. It is the child s good you should 
 look at. I came here for her ; I m free to say that plainly. I ll 
 not marry again, and I d like a daughter about me in my old age. 
 Bob is independent of me, from his grandfather. I can afford to 
 give her a child s portion, and I ll do it. I will take her as the 
 orphan child of a friend, so that no shame shall come on her. I 
 would make her an educated, tenderly-reared lady and you " 
 
 "What then, sir?" 
 
 " You are making a market-huckster out of her." 
 
 There was a dead silence in the room. Overhead, in the loft- 
 chamber, where the moon threw a square light on the bare floor, the 
 little girl sat shivering in her night-gown on the edge of her cot- 
 bed, her yellow hair tucked closely up, her hands clasped about her 
 knees. The voices below reached her now and then; these last 
 words clearly ; when she heard them the little freckled face con 
 tracted sharply, certain lines which Burley had never seen, came 
 into it ; she bent her head to listen. 
 
 Her grandfather was silent. 
 
 " It is the child you should consider," persisted Strebling. " Not 
 vour ow r n selfish pleasure. It is her w T hole life you are choosing for 
 her." 
 
 Still no answer. Ross could hear the clock ticking below, seem 
 ing to make a thickened beat through the floor, the plastering, in 
 her own head ; but her grandfather said nothing. She slid down, 
 put her brown cloak about her, walked to the stairs. Then Burley s 
 voice, slow and stammering, came up. 
 
 " That be a cruel way to put it. But it be true. You re a 
 gentleman, as words go. You ve the blood Rossline talked of this 
 very night. Do what I kin, Rossline 11 grow up like her mother s 
 people. A market-huckster, may-be. How kin I know ? " He 
 coughed, cleared his throat, his voice swelling out to suit the burly 
 figure out of which it came, not without a certain coarse dignity in 
 it, beside which Strebling s, with its delicate training, sounded thin 
 and flat. " But, huckster or not, the gal s face is honest, an the 
 Burley blood s clean. I ll keep it so. I ve got to answer to God 
 for her some day. I ll not give her to you. I ll not put her where 
 she ll grow tainted an cunnin for all the money or edication that 
 ud make her a lady." 
 
 The child s face bending over the dark stairway grew more sharp 
 and set, her nails whitened where she clenched the railing with her 
 fingers. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 25 
 
 " There is no need of heat in the matter," said Strebling, with an 
 unnatural mildness in his tone. " I think I have acted fairly. I 
 can have no especial love for a child that I have seen but once, but 
 I came here to do what I thought right, and your bluster or insult 
 will not put me aside. I will not allow you to decide the child 
 fate, Burley, without giving her a chance to know what she will 
 lose." 
 
 " You want to leave it to Rossline ? " with a chuckle. " Well, 
 she don t have a thought beyond her grandad. I m contented. 
 You kin do that." 
 
 " You will find yourself mistaken in her, then," sharply. " I noted 
 her to-day. There are thoroughbred points in her. She will turn 
 to the ease and delicacy of life as instinctively as a well-blooded ani 
 mal would forsake offal for its natural food. I will come back in 
 the morning." 
 
 " Jest as you please ; I ll be contented to leave it to my little 
 gal." 
 
 But there was an uneasy hesitation in his voice which had not 
 been there before. 
 
 " I will leave this for her. Give it to her when she wakens," 
 taking out the watch which he had bought for Rob, and laying it on 
 the table. As he turned away, a quick step rattled on the stair 
 steps, and a square little figure, wrapped in a stuff cloak that did not 
 hide her bare ankles, stood beside him. She took up the watch and 
 held it out to him. 
 
 " I heard that talking. I choose for myself. I want you never 
 to come back here again." She spoke in a whisper, but her face 
 and motions were so angular and, sharp, that the voice seemed wiry. 
 Strebling stood, half smiling with amusement, and a certain relief. 
 He was beginning to doubt the wisdom of adopting this pullet of 
 the Burley breed, after all. But he pushed back the watch. 
 
 " Whatever you decide, keep that, my dear." 
 
 Now, the chain was enamelled with blue, and there was a topaz 
 and a lava seal. It must have been such jewels as these which the 
 crew of the Spanish galleon had buried. She drew a heavy sigh 
 and hesitated. " No, I don t think I will keep it, thank you. I am 
 going to choose for myself. I will not go to be made vile and 
 tainted. You are nothing to me. I understand I am not like 
 other children. I I have nobody but you ! " turning to Burley, 
 catching his arm, and beginning to cry in a shrill, tearless way. 
 
 " I ll go," said Strebling, quickly. " I ve done my duty. But, 
 Burley, this child is but a child ; she s not fit to judge. If she ever 
 needs my help, write to me. I ll not keep any grudge about to-day. 
 It is not likely that I will renew my offer ; but I will be willing to 
 help her, certainly quite willing." 
 
 He went hastily out of the door, Burley staring after his thin, 
 

 26 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 padded.figure as he picked Ms steps along the path outside with an 
 uneasy sense of defeat, he scarce knew why, forgetting that the door 
 was open, and that Ross feet were bare on the stone floor. She knew 
 it, and cried a little more bitterly for it, feeling quite neglected and 
 alone. He thought she had no idea of the crisis in her life which 
 she had just passed ; but a girl of nine years has keen and horribly 
 real perceptions of the few edges of the outer world which touch 
 her ; the sharper, maybe, because all beyond is as misty and unreal 
 as eternity. Then the love, and hate, and pain of youth have 
 always in them a weak, acrid, insipid flavor, like the juices of all 
 unripe fruit ; the child, clinging to his knees, had none of the 
 quiet, full consciousness of having chosen the right thing that slowly 
 filled and quieted Burley s brain. 
 
 " It be monstrous cold," he stammered, at last, with a sort of 
 heave and gulp, shaking himself, and then lumbering across the 
 kitchen to close the door. He fumbled at the lock when it was 
 shut, looking doubtfully at the forlorn little figure on the hearth in 
 front of the low-burning fire, with her hands clasped behind her 
 back, and her face following him steadily. 
 
 " Yer eyes is sunk into yer head like a sleep-walker s, little gal," 
 coming up, and putting his hands on her head. " It s been a messa- 
 bul night, as I said afore. It s goin to be the last of that sort, 
 hey ? Why, Rossline ! Tut ! tut ! yer skin s cold and dry as death ! 
 Why, Sweetheart ! " 
 
 She cried out, at that, that she understood that she was not 
 like other children ; that it would have been better for them all if 
 she had died on the bed that day with her pretty mother, hugging 
 nis knee meantime, and burying her face in his patched trousers. 
 
 " Why, Rossline ! " picking her up with a hoarse, unsteady laugh. 
 " What a silly little un my gal is to forget her grandad altogether ! 
 She puts him clear out of account ! Yer feet is like ice ; here, give 
 me this un in my hand. She forgets her old grandad ! She don t 
 take no count of the old man that has got nothin but her in the 
 world. Nothin . If you were dead with Marget, what ud I be ? 
 hey, little sister ? Jest a empty husk with the kernel gone, a moul- 
 derin away. That s it. A moulderin away. You don t know 
 how yer the life of me, Rossline," gravely holding her in his arms 
 as if she were a baby, and rocking her. She had sobbed herself 
 quiet now. 
 
 " Ye r the first one since Robert Comly died " he began again, 
 when she lifted up her head, her eyes on fire, bidding him never 
 talk of Robert Comly to her again ; that he was nothing to her ; 
 that she loved her mother, whatever the others did her pretty 
 mother with another burst of sobbing and tears. She hated Rob 
 ert Comly and his goodness ; at which the old man only smiled 
 gravely, and rocked her in silence till she fell asleep. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 27 
 
 The sky the next morning was filled with that thin, "brilliant sun 
 shine that belongs to the early Winter days ; the air cold and ex 
 hilarating as iced wine. Ross went gravely about, watching her 
 grandfather fodder the horses and mend the harness ; she was quite 
 idle herself; her little body was nervous and trembling like an 
 instrument too tightly strung ; she wanted to cry on his neck ; to 
 tell him how her heart was full of love for the old man who had 
 nothing but her in the world now that she was unlike all other 
 children, and stood quite alone with not even a dead father or 
 mother of whom she might be proud, and love. But Burley seemed 
 to have forgotten last night altogether ; he swore in his good- 
 humored way as usual at the beasts, and whistled the " British 
 Grenadiers," between times ; his jolly face red and perspiring as 
 always. 
 
 She had a vague, half-unconscious feeling that there would be a 
 great change in her life, after this crisis was past. But the break 
 fast waited for her to cook and then, the dishes for her to wash ; 
 and presently her grandfather looked in to say, was she ready ? and 
 that he could take her into town if her baskets were packed ; and 
 when her hood was on, he hoisted her up among her heaps of sage 
 and sweet marjoram, and drove her as usual into her stall in the 
 market. 
 
 It was a frosty, cheerful morning, and he kept up a hearty joking 
 with everybody they met, and with Ross herself, and she answered 
 him in kind. 
 
 But she began to remember what splendor of fairy-like good for 
 tune had come near her last night, and been turned away. It was 
 just as if she had seen and touched the cavaliers with their floating 
 plumes and golden spurs, and that now they were gone,, and nothing 
 was left but the muddy beach and incoming tide. 
 
 They reached the market at last, and she mounted her high stool. 
 There it all was; the low, dirty-blue roof overhead; the brick pil 
 lars pasted with bills ; the tiresome, muddy street, with the old 
 wagon carrying off its pleasant music ; there was the crowd of un 
 tidy women in front of her with their baskets ; Scheffer haggling 
 with one of them over a bone of meat on one side, and Kit Vance, 
 slimy and red-faced, diving into her filthy mackerel hogsheads, on 
 the other. Kit was a "market-huckster;" Kit was "honest and 
 clean-blooded." Her grandfather meant her for this. This market 
 and that woman there she could see herself, twenty years from 
 now. He was very fond and kind, but she knew he would never 
 go beyond that ; it was his way. Never beyond that. 
 
 That day Ross did not go to sleep ; she did not laugh at the 
 squabbling about her; but sat, puckered up in an old-womanish 
 fashion, her chin in her hands, selling a bunch of sage now and then, 
 and dropping the pennies in her pocket. 
 
28 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The windows of a house down the street were opun, and she 
 could hear a violin within. The boy only played some simple little 
 air over and over, but it made her cry, with a homesick, lonely feel 
 ing, new to her. 
 
 At last it grew clear to her. She was going to help herself. 
 Then she sat straight up, her peaked, sharp face and soft, brown 
 eyes staring into the fish stall. She would be a woman out there in 
 the world some day. She would be educated ; stand higher than 
 Strebling could have placed her. 
 
 She would have no help, not from the living man who called 
 himself her father, nor the dead one who had loaned her his name. 
 
 Her chin sunk into her hand again, and she sat quiet and un 
 smiling. In the course of the morning Kit Vance called to her for 
 some change. " Ross ! Rosslyn Comly ! " she said. 
 
 " Ross Burley s my name," said the little girl, handing over the 
 money. " My mother s name s good enough for me." 
 
 "Why, you ben t agoin to make that of yerself!" cried Kit, 
 shrewishly, at which they all laughed. For there had been some 
 ugly rumors about Burley s daughter, which were not yet forgotten. 
 
 " Ross Burley s my name," steadily arranging her herbs. She 
 thought, hot with her purpose from head to foot, "I ll go just as I 
 am, shame and all. They shall see what I can do. I ll borrow 
 nobody s name." 
 
 When the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, she grew sleepy, 
 thinking of the purpose ; one thing forever is tiresome, so she got 
 out her thimble, and a little box of purple and green silk rags, and 
 be^an to make her doll an entire new suit. She had it finished when 
 
 O 
 
 she went home that evening, and tried it on to show her grand 
 father, thinking of it more than anything else. Old Burley saw no 
 change in her, and she knew of none. 
 
 It was only a trowel s weight of earth that had been lifted, but 
 the ground was broken for the building that was to be, and no man 
 could lay it straight again. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE DISPATCH. 
 
 IFTEEN years have passed : the 
 market stall, and the yellow- 
 haired little girl in it are gone. 
 But the child cannot be as far 
 off, and unreal to us, as she is 
 to the Ross Burley of to-day. 
 Instead of market and herb- 
 girl, then ; a road cut through 
 a farm lying in the rich river- 
 bottom of the Cumberland, in 
 Kentucky. A mere belt of 
 yellow clay ; grass-grown, and 
 full of the ruts and holes made 
 by the hoofs of the cattle, 
 with high banks on either 
 side ; a badly-kept road, only 
 used as a drift-way by which 
 the mules and cows of the 
 farms inside were driven down 
 to the ford yonder. But a lone 
 ly, pretty bit of landscape for 
 a picture, with the low Octo 
 ber sun slanting over the bronzed stubble-fields on one side, throwing 
 a maze of black lines of fence shadow down into the dry road, and 
 shooting level lances of 1 light into the thick undergrowth of the op 
 posite bank, and the dark oak and ash woods beyond, out of which 
 the autumnal tints are just fading, scarlets and chrome yellows alike 
 sinking into a dull copper color. The strip of road, the mosses of 
 red and blackish green mottling the banks, the sumach bushes with 
 knobs of maroon velvet, reddening in the sunlight where they were 
 thrust out from the green ; blackened maple leaves blown along by 
 the wind ; the rustling of the trees ; the thrum, thrum of the wood 
 pecker ; that was all that there was jto see or hear. 
 
30 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Yet Miss Conrad, taking her evening walk, pacing along in her 
 usual grave, steady fashion, was conscious of an unwonted stillness 
 and loneliness in the road. There were no brown chippeys hopping 
 before her as usual in the ruts, or squirrels peering down from the 
 fence-rails with beady black eyes; her own, gray and straightfor 
 ward, which seemed to observe nothing, suffered no trifles like these 
 to escape them ; the senses, too, with which Nature had endowed 
 Margaret Conrad s slow, solid, white body, were keen as those of a 
 hound or an Indian. She noted a peculiar stillness in the air, a faint 
 sweet smell, which disappeared when she tried to give it name. 
 Here and there, too, as she passed along, the grass was darker, and 
 damp in spots under her feet. There had been no rain, and it was too 
 early for dew. She went to the other side of the road, disliking, as 
 usual, what she did not understand. When she came to the river, 
 and sat down there, she had a certainty in her mind that she had 
 left something behind her in the narrow strip of road, other than 
 the underbrush, and yellow clay, and red October sunset. 
 
 She sat for an hour or two on the pebbles of the beach, her hands 
 clasped about her knees, as motionless as any tree-stump near her, 
 until the melancholy twilight came, and darkening, gave place to a 
 clear, cold moonrise. Neither twilight nor moonrise suggested any 
 of the usual delicate, flavorless reveries of young maidens to her brain ; 
 she was fully occupied in watching a frost-bitten bee creeping home. 
 She made a bridge of her firm finger for it once or twice across 
 perils in the way ; at home she was a successful bee-fancier, because, 
 perhaps, the bees fancied her, as they always do people of cleanly, 
 sweet habit and kindly temper. Margaret never had read a Hymn 
 to Nature in her life, but she was a keen judge of cattle; had found 
 out that caterpillars would move to music, and a hundred traits of 
 the Kentucky fishes and wild fowl that are not in the books. " They 
 were better company than most people," she said, with a dogged 
 scorn of her lovers, and of grammar. 
 
 Coming back through the road, she stopped now and then to lis 
 ten ; but the silence was unnaturally deep ; once she startled a black, 
 ill-looking bird from a spot among the bushes, and flapping its 
 wings heavily, it flew away, circling through the moonlight. 
 The falling dew had almost chilled the weak odor out of the air. 
 Yet at times she caught it faintly; once or twice a swarm of 
 black beetles scattered before her feet; the maze of shadowed 
 lines on the moonlit road looked to her like mysterious writing. She 
 halted, then presently shutting her mouth closer as if she had read 
 the writing, and comprehended it, went on out of the road at an 
 even, steady pace, to the lane beyond, in which she heard voices 
 approaching. 
 
 She stopped, and in a moment saw the red spark of a cigar as it 
 was thrown away, and two men coming toward her. She pulled 
 on her hood impatiently. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 31 
 
 "Neither will do; the book-worm would make as miserable a 
 bungle of the matter as poor Rob," she thought. 
 
 " Stop. Turn back with me. We will go to the house ; there s 
 something uncanny down that road," gathering up the heavy folds 
 of her dress as she stepped up on the long grass. 
 
 One of them removed his cap, showing a lazy, good-humored face, 
 and bending six feet of loose-jointed, broadly-built body deferen 
 tially as he spoke to her, with a turgid sort of tenderness in voice 
 and look. 
 
 The other, a tall man, who looked grave and middle-aged be 
 side the dashing young soldier, fell back. 
 
 " I mean," she said abruptly, " that there s a wreck down yonder, 
 which I have found; and I warn you off from it, Rob. That 
 was all." 
 
 " It is fortunate that you found nothing worse, strolling about so 
 late, with our army at Monticello, and the Yankees at Somerset. 
 Zollicoffer can rein in the bushwhackers no better than Schoepf. A 
 stray shot If you have no thought for yourself," lowering his 
 voice, " for me 
 
 " That will do, Rob," dryly. " There ! I knew you d stumble if 
 you did not pick your steps." 
 
 The young man drew himself up, muttering angrily. 
 
 " I had no wish to snub you, Rob, boy, if that is what you mean," 
 in the same grave, motherly manner. " Not more than I would old 
 Rover. You re not unlike a good breed of Newfoundland, after all," 
 looking up into his flushed, handsome face, with a laugh. " You re 
 as honest, and as game, and as dull ! I never thought of the like 
 ness before," and again she laughed good humoredly, and swept on 
 with her firm, free step, complacent at having at last hit on the true 
 estimate of Rob Strebling, and set it out so neatly. 
 
 He fell back beside the older man to give her the path, following 
 her large, compact figure with a baffled, feeble smile, and dog-like, 
 affectionate eyes. Once, helping her through a stile, his hand lin 
 gered unseen on the folds of her dress. It was corded satin, of some 
 dark, warm color; heavy, rich, and quiet, as was all her drapery; 
 to Strebling it seemed a - part of herself. The man beside him bit 
 his thin lips, and buttoned his coat nervously, wishing in his soul 
 that the day was come when these guests would be gone, and lie 
 could be quiet again with his book and his laboratory; acids were 
 never coarse, nor alkalies vulgar ; and if a book was a vapid com 
 panion you could put it down ; but these people were guests and 
 kinsfolk. He had an alarmed sense of especial antipathy for this re 
 markable young woman who knew no more of the winsome little 
 affectations of other girls than would a Normandy draught-horse ; 
 but be she what she might, it was contrary to his Virginia notions 
 of decorum to annoy any woman, even by homage, or to lay a finger 
 
32 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 unpermitted on the hem of her garment. No gentleman could act 
 as Rob Strebling had done ; no Kentucky gentleman, at least. 
 
 They reached the veranda of the house ; Rob stood, hat in hand, 
 to say good-night a dashing, soldier-like figure, he well knew, with 
 the moonlight full on his curly brown hair and beard, and frank 
 face. Inside of the major s uniform of the C. S. A., he suffered to 
 be seen the waistcoat of rich Lyons velvet, the delicate shirt front ; 
 his studs were diamonds ; his sleeve-buttons emeralds ; his ring a 
 ruby; a heavy rose perfume stirred .about him; the year of the 
 war had not materially changed either his clothes or tastes. 
 
 Miss Conrad sent him off as a boy to school. " You re on guard, 
 Bob, you say, to-night. It is quite time you were gone;" giving 
 him her hand as if it had been a bit of wood turning to the other 
 man with a relief in her eyes, as they fell on his scrupulously quiet 
 dress and face. 
 
 "You are severe in your discipline of Strebling," he said, with 
 an amused smile. 
 
 "Of the dead and absent, no evil," dryly. "But I wanted him 
 safely set on his way " An uneasy glance at the road ended the 
 sentence. The moon had drifted behind heavy clouds clouds of 
 the opaque gray, that prophesy snow. 
 
 " Your wreck will be hid before morning?" opening the door for 
 ner to pass in. 
 
 " Yes. But we cannot go down. There is a patrol by the ford 
 at night," anxiously knitting her brow. 
 
 " What is it ? What did you see ? " startled by her face. 
 
 "I saw nothing. When you start out gunning in the morning, 
 Garrick, I will go with you down to the road. There will be less 
 risk of interruption then than now." 
 
 She spoke in a tone of quiet authority which amused him. The 
 man who had spent his life in a library was but a boy, in her opin 
 ion, when work was needed. 
 
 They went into the warm, lighted hall. Without, the moon 
 threw a white light over the farm-house, and fields, and the woods 
 and tents of the outposts of Zollicoffer s army. But in the lonely 
 road there was a shadow. The moonlight, which framed all else 
 into a quiet home picture, ignored, and left unfound the alien, un 
 welcome thing that lay under the drifting maple leaves, with its 
 face upturned. When the morning air lifted the clouds, and, driving 
 them apart, showed the arched blue overhead, and the veiling snow 
 whitely folded over tent and farm-house and field, a few flakes had 
 found their way through the thicket, down to the wreck beneath, 
 vainly trying to cover it with the decency of their charity. 
 
 By day-break, Garrick Randolph, game-bag slung across his back, 
 and gun in hand, was breaking the snow down to the cattle-road, 
 followed by Miss Conrad, who shivered inside of her heavy cloak 
 and hood. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. ( 33 
 
 He asked no questions, seeing that it was her mood to be silent. 
 Her mood was not only silent it infected him with a gravity which 
 he tried in vain to shake off, humming a tune briskly to himself 
 when he had left her any distance behind. When they reached the 
 road, however, she took the advance, going on quickly until she 
 came to the spot from whence she had chased the beetles. It was 
 covered now with snow. 
 
 She pointed into the bushes. " Put down your gun and bag." 
 
 " What is it ? What did you see ? " 
 
 " Nothing. I told you I saw nothing. But I felt de t ath in there. 
 I always know when there is a dead body near me. How could I 
 tell you how ? " impatiently. " Hold back this grape-vine it is 
 across my foot," as she thrust her way beside him into the thicket. 
 She was as strong a woman as he was a man ; and she kept step 
 with him. But when they had come to a heap of clothes covered 
 with dead leaves and the melting snow-flakes, she turned aside. 
 
 " I knew this work would be to do. I m sick. But give me a 
 minute, and I ll help you, Garrick." 
 
 She was of women, womanish, after all, a fact which Garrick 
 sometimes doubted ; her grave, high-featured face was colorless, but 
 for the blue scoring about her mouth and eyes, and her hands cold 
 as the dead man s body which she helped to carry out of the thicket. 
 But she did help to carry it, and when it was laid on the road, took 
 the head on her lap to keep it out of the snow. 
 
 " Who is it, Garrick? " after he had busied himself about it she 
 with her head turned away. 
 
 "A scout, I suspect, shot by some stragglers from one or the 
 other army. He has been wounded here in the side, and escaped so 
 far to creep into the thicket and die." 
 
 "North or South?" 
 
 He scanned the butternut clothes, the square, compactly-built 
 face. " The garb is the garb of Esau, but the face is Jacob s." 
 
 She made an effort to fold the ragged coat over his breast, while 
 Garrick kept his thin, nervous fingers on the cold forehead, taking 
 time leisurely to philosophize. He was looking at the great mys 
 tery of Death through this poor shell: thinking how, perhaps, an 
 eternity of joy or suffering already lay between himself and this 
 man ; thinking of the hour when he 
 
 " Look here, Garrick ! Only this thin cotton rag between his 
 chest and the snow ! God help us !" She was unfastening her 
 cloak and making a shroud of it as she spoke. 
 
 " What matters the fate of this husk ? Life never seemed so real 
 
 to me as now in this unexpected wreck, as you call it. Your 
 
 wreck is a bark now on an infinite tide " 
 
 "I don t know much about the tides in the other world, Gar 
 rick. The good Lord gives me so much to do here. I suppose 
 3 
 
34 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 He takes care of us all through. I think this man was a mechanic," 
 her gray, absorbing eyes passing over his face and horny hands with 
 their peculiar quiet gaze. "It is a Northern face, and manly 
 manly." 
 
 She looked up to the range of low hills bounding the northern 
 horizon. " I suppose," she said slowly, " he has an old mother, or 
 a wife maybe, somewhere, who think nobody else in the world is 
 like him. I wish they knew that I ll do all I can for the poor fel 
 low. I wish they did." 
 
 Something in the deep, slow voice made the man s nerves un 
 steady, and brought tears to his eyes; he did not brush them 
 away, not thinking whether she noticed them or not. He felt him 
 self to be an unsteady sort of fellow in a practical work like this, 
 and began fumbling with the man s feet, which were clogged with 
 snow, ashamed to acknowledge he was waiting for a suggestion 
 from the girl. 
 
 " I see no reason for not calling some of the people down from 
 the house," she said, doubtfully. " If he had been a Northerner, 
 and Rob Strebling s father there unless it should be one of his 
 loyal days, after a Union victory What is this clenched in his 
 hand?" 
 
 "Nothing. A bullet only. I think," mildly, "you are unjust to 
 Strebling ; he is a sincere man, though vacillating " 
 
 " Let me look at that bullet ; for a Minie rifle, eh ? As for Mr. 
 Strebling wherever there s weakness, there s crime, before or after. 
 Garrick ! there is something wrong with this bullet it is too light," 
 weighing it in her palm. In another moment she was at work on it 
 with her teeth, twisting it in the centre. A screw suddenly opened, 
 and the bullet fell into two pieces. She drew out a fine slip of pa 
 per, which was covered with minute writing. 
 
 " This is your business. You are the man of us two," she said 
 gravely, handing it to him. 
 
 He took it, and turned aside a moment. When he came back, she 
 was watching him. " He was one of our people ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 * Whom can you trust ? " 
 
 Garrick stopped in his uneasy walk up and down. " Cole," after 
 a moment s pause. " He is the blacksmith ; you will find him in 
 the quarters, Miss Conrad, if you will help me so far. He can 
 smuggle a box from the shop here, and we can put this poor fellow 
 out of sight." 
 
 She was going, when he added, " You had better not return. It 
 will attract notice from the house." 
 
 " Yes." She turned back then, and stooped over the dead soldier, 
 silent for a few minutes. When she looked up, Garrick was stand 
 ing with his cap lifted. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 35 
 
 "I was not saying any prayer," quickly; "I am a heathen, I be 
 lieve ; but there are so many different sort of people in the world ! 
 I was trying to remember his face, in case there might be such a 
 case, you know I should ever find out any of his kinsfolk. I could 
 tell them " She stopped. 
 
 "It is an honorable face," said Garrick, looking down on it with 
 his sensitive, speculative eyes ; " though I should judge the man to 
 be illiterate and of low birth. It is thoroughly plebeian, but full 
 of purpose observe. I never saw aim or persistent effort so 
 stamped on features." 
 
 They were both silent, standing on each side of the body. The 
 gleam of blme sky at dawn was already overcast ; thick, gray clouds 
 muffled the heavens from horizon to horizon ; the snow began to 
 fall, in a few large, drifting flakes. 
 
 " Well ! that is the end of it to be shovelled under this snow," 
 she said, bitter, on the dead man s behoof. 
 
 " I should think," said Garrick, his voice thin and sharp, " that 
 his balked purpose Avould taunt a man like this always, whatever 
 may be his new work in eternity, yonder. I I cannot submit to 
 think of the poor fellow s life being thwarted in what was doubt 
 less its one heroic deed, when I could have helped it." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " I could finish his work." 
 
 "You mean" 
 
 " These are dispatches from Schoepf. The fate of the Army of 
 the Cumberland may depend on them. I judge this from a word 
 or two which I have deciphered. There are few ciphers - which I 
 cannot read, and this is the contrivance of a school-boy. I can 
 carry them, and, delivering them without giving my own name, 
 discover his." 
 
 " What then ? " 
 
 " He would lose no credit don t you comprehend ? The mother 
 or wife you spoke of would believe his errand done before he 
 died." 
 
 Margaret s gray eyes rested for a moment or two on the thin, 
 glowing face before her. " I understand," in a lower voice. " But 
 do you know the risk of crossing up into Ohio ? I do. There is 
 not a scrub-oak on the barrens, behind which you may not wager 
 you will hear the twang of a musket, and you, Garrick Randolph, 
 will be a doubly-marked man. There are none of your neighbors 
 who do not know that, long ago, you would have been in the 
 Federal army, but that you would not bring ruin on your father s 
 head. Even I knew it, in Pennsylvania." 
 
 " There is no cause to keep me now," he said, quietly. He did 
 not glance at the black clothes he wore, nor did his eyelids tremble. 
 Whatever his father and he had been to each other was known to 
 
36 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 them the one dead, the other living this woman should not lay 
 her meddling hand on it. 
 
 " If you wish to join the Federal ranks, there is Schoepf at Som 
 erset," she persisted. " See, Mr. Randolph, I am a stranger to yo>i. 
 If we had been twins, and sat on our mother s knee, we would have 
 been strangers. But I do not want to see you throw your life 
 away on a fool-hardy bit of Quixotism, such as this. I crossed the 
 Ohio a month ago to come here; but even I, though passed from 
 one outpost to another with a flag of truce, knew that we came 
 through the barrens at the risk of life. And you look at this," 
 pointing to the man at her feet. 
 
 "You are going back again." 
 
 " That is for the help of the living," quickly, " not the dead." 
 
 She was turning off, when she came back hastily. " Give me the 
 paper. I am going back. I hate anything underhand; but I ll 
 smuggle it through in the gauntlet of my glove, in my boot-heel. 
 Give it to me, Garrick." 
 
 " No^" putting down her hand gently. " I have a fancy to do 
 this myself for the poor fellow." 
 
 She stood silent a moment. " So be it. I am glad you told me 
 of the dispatch," in her ordinary slow, grave tones. " I am glad 
 you trusted me. I will keep the sedr et." 
 
 Garrick lifted his cap, looking after her with a quiet smile. " I 
 think I told you," he said, when she was out of hearing, " because 
 you knew it already." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DEPAKTUKE. 
 
 " Now stir the fire, and draw the curtains close, 
 So let us welcome peaceful evening in. 
 
 AH, Cowper ! Cowper ! Let your Tennysons or your Gothes 
 probe human nature as they will, it is the bard of Olney that soothes 
 us soothes us ; like Summer air, or sleep, or um ! Yes, Cowper 
 for me, Miss Conrad." 
 
 " Very likely," was her not very relevant reply, not looking up 
 > from her sewing. 
 
 It was Rob Strebling s father in one ot his sentimental veins, 
 .standing on the hearth-rug beside her, his back to the glowing fire, 
 still lean, padded, glossily dressed ; not a day older, apparently, 
 than he was fifteen years ago, for a sandy wig had replaced the 
 sandy hair, and the whiskers, whicli might have betrayed telltale 
 touches of time, were gone from his clean-shaven face ; one white, 
 wrinkled hand was held behind him, the fingers of the other gently 
 patted his lips as he looked, affably smiling, down at her 
 
39 
 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 ? ir fc mission of the poet is to soothe. Surely, to soothe. lu 
 icf J the office of the fair sex when we turn from the fray and 
 jpf the world s struggles to the sanctities sanctuary of 
 j| Neither poet nor woman should look into the morbid depths 
 (nan nature. Ah, vexed human nature ! " said Mr. Strebling, 
 full, jrii n g to get back to land, finding himself in deep water. 
 U P ni jvhat should a young creature like Margaret know of frays and 
 slon in nature ? " said a sweet voice, and an old lady beside her put 
 3 jicate hand, in a half-scared way, on the heavy folds of lustre- 
 ! iblack hair, eyeing her furtively, as a mild, motherly old puss 
 sim ljit the young hound just imported to the fireside from some 
 ^ Id of which she knew nothing. Young women of the present 
 <. e were different from those she knew. It was owing to the 
 " ?^arch of mind," perhaps, or transcendentalism, which was the same 
 th ; |ig, she believed ; they had not penetrated into the old Virginia 
 houses in which she had lived ; among the light-hearted, clear-eyed 
 young girls there ; girls whose literary tastes were formed on the 
 Spectator, and Scott s novels ; who dispensed the hospitality of 
 their fathers houses in a gay, gracious way, going to Richmond in 
 Winter and to Greenbrier in Summer, dancing with their cousins 
 until they married some of them, and became housekeepers, and 
 mistresses, and mothers. Perhaps they did not keep up with the 
 run of current books, but they were tainted with no vulgar radical 
 ism about slavery or spirit rapping, and there was a repose, a 
 thoroughbred air about them which she had never seen in the rest 
 less New England women. As for this new-found relation, she was 
 of another species if her mother was a Page ; and the old lady s 
 mild, faintly-colored face turned from time to time wistfully toward 
 the girl, while she smiled graciously in assent to Mr. Streb ling s 
 lecture on the poets. Margaret s quiet, downright, unsmiling face 
 was very attractive to gentlemen she had heard ; she was thankful 
 her nephew, Garrick, had escaped ! 
 
 " How peculiarly you sew, dear Margaret," she purred. " Your 
 threads are so long, and your needle moves so steadily and swiftly. 
 Now my niece Lou has so many finical little ways, it is quite a play 
 to see her ; but you sit there always quiet, and strong as a ma 
 chine " 
 
 " Ah ! here comes Garrick ! " said Mr. Strebling, peeping out 
 through the crimson curtains into the snow-covered avenue without. 
 " Out gunning since morning ! He will bring in a gust of cold air 
 presently. These people who are capable of dragging all day 
 through snow for such game as rabbits, have no comprehension of 
 weaker nerves," shivering back to the fire. Margaret did not lift 
 her face from her work ; she had heard the quick, nervous step on 
 the snow long before. Randolph had been gone since morning ; 
 the man was buried then, she concluded, and the hastily formed 
 
36 5 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 n )lan of the morning was to be carried into effect ; the da} been 
 spent in arranging matters on the plantation before his ture. 
 He would start that night. When he came into the r^ f ew 
 moments later, carefully shaved and dressed, as usual, ^ e> 
 gray eyes rested on him with a sincere pleasure. He 
 that there was every chance that he was going to his deatfy 
 was so quiet about it ! Who would have believed that i vaf 
 such thorough pluck in the nervous, awkward fellow ? " 
 
 But there was a drop of gallant blood in everybody if \r 
 touched the right vein ! She got up suddenly, and held out s 
 to Garrick, as one brave man might to another ; there w ^ C J 
 thing generous in the touch of the hand, which was both 1 J 
 warm, that was like a hearty cheer to him starting on hiL^J /n 
 hope ; it brought a heat to his thin cheek, and a cheerfuller gi J 
 for them all, for Garrick, when touched, was always most apt 
 playful and joking. Mrs. Page knew that, and looked uneasily ^ e om 
 him to the girl s gray eyes, which had burned for a moment v -ouiu 
 sudden splendor of meaning. ^ ;pecti 
 
 " Dear ! dear ! if Garrick should be snared, after all !" she tho he ; 
 as she bustled out to order his supper. " They say old Conrad hlixi 
 Indian blood," and then grew quiet, remembering how delicately fas 
 tidious he was in the matter of family, how he cherished his pure 
 descent back to the Champernouns of Elizabeth s time, a lineage on 
 which there had fallen no stain of dishonor. Cultured, honorable 
 gentlemen, the Randolphs, all. " And poor old Conrad going from 
 horse-racing to itinerant preaching at a jump ! No, no ! he s safe ! " 
 and she trod lightly back, rustling her gray silk dress, followed by 
 Viney with the tray of devilled turkey, corn-bread, and coffee. 
 
 She had no trouble in forcing Garrick to eat ; he established himself 
 cosily in a corner, made her wait on him, brought the tears to her 
 eyes, laughing at his jokes. He was always her darling, but it was 
 not often he was boyish and light-hearted as to-night. 
 
 Margaret, whose eyes did not apparently leave her work, saw that 
 Randolph s face never lighted with his laugh. There was a worn easy- 
 chair by the fire which had been his father s ; when he died and Garrick 
 came home to the house in which there was only left poor old Aunt 
 Laura to welcome him, he had taken it for his own ; judging himself, it 
 may be, as he sat in it night after night, whether he filled the place 
 of the true, honorable gentleman who was gone. 
 
 He did not sit in it to-night ; did not trust himself to look up 
 once at the shrewd, benevolent face of his fathui above it on the 
 wall. " He thinks it is his last night in the homestead," thought 
 Margaret. 
 
 But presently Garrick and his undertaking faded out of her mind 
 as she sewed. Her own affairs had trouble enough in them ; and aa 
 for heroism, she had come out of a hurly-burly in which the very 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 39 
 
 air, she had fancied, was made up of the breaths of men dying hero 
 ically for causes which they thought good. 
 
 Mr. Strebling meanwhile watched her critically as he sat, and 
 chafed his hands softly. He was a connoisseur in woman, but this 
 was a new type. He could not make up his mind whether the pale, 
 full, high-featured face was German or Indian ; he could not make 
 up his mind whether it was dull from stolidity or from the repres 
 sion of passionate, electric energy ; at times he called the large, firm, 
 whit e figure with its slow and strong motions, its heavy crown of 
 black hair, its solitary expression in full, half-closed gray eyes 
 simply coarse ; and again he doubted whether a true artist would 
 not have chosen it as a rare type for a grand primeval woman ; 
 whether any petty graces could equal this absolute freedom, this 
 power in rest or motion. 
 
 " You are going to leave us to-morrow, Miss Conrad ? " breaking 
 silence, " your filial affection supports you through great perils." 
 
 To which she made answer in her slow, grave way, bringing all 
 down to the levellest commonplace, that a flag of truce prevented 
 all difficulty, and that it was not filial affection that brought her to 
 Kentucky, but to sell the mules. 
 
 Aunt Laura gave an hysteric little scream. " But, Margaret, I 
 did not understand this before. Surely it would have been better 
 for your father to have risked all greater danger for himself, than to 
 have suffered you to engage in such unwomanly work." 
 
 "I do not know about that; when there is work for me, I very 
 seldom think whether other women have it to do or not. Some of 
 them would not like it, perhaps ; but I am a very good judge of 
 mules, and the stock on the farm had to be sold or we should have 
 lost it all. One army or the other had carried off half of it. I saw 
 a dealer in Monticello, and told him he could have the remainder for 
 a certain sum, and he paid me the money. As for Mr. Conrad, it 
 was not fear that detained him ; there was a reason w T hy he could 
 not come." The face looking up at Aunt Laura was as simple and 
 honest as a child s, and looked child-like, for the moment, from some 
 inward trouble that mastered it. But she dropped her eyes and kept 
 her pain to herself. 
 
 " Dear ! dear ! " The old lady tapped the ends of her fingers to 
 gether. Garrick was looking attentively at the girl, who had seen 
 more of the world and of action in the past month than had entered 
 into his whole life. Aunt Laura s wrinkled cheek grew hot ; the 
 lace strings of her cap fluttered ; it was as well that he should be 
 reminded of Miss Conrad s antecedents. 
 
 " What did your father do with his turf-horses when he entered 
 the Methodist Conference, Margaret ? Very finely blooded, his stock 
 was, my brother always said." 
 
 " He kept the best of his stud," said the girl, folding up her work. 
 
40 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Black Hawk gained a dozen premiums at State fairs before the war 
 began. There is no reason why he should not own a good horse 
 because he works for God ? " with a smile. 
 
 Aunt Laura s lace fluttered more violently, but she only replied 
 by a furtive glance of triumph at her nephew. 
 
 Mr. Strebling felt called to bring a soothing element into the con 
 versation. He was a good-humored man, and dreaded the clashing 
 of women s tongues. 
 
 Fairs? Ah yes, my dear. That was another good thing to 
 which this miserable war put an end. There s not a turn you can 
 make from morning until night in which you are not met by incon 
 venience growing out of this gigantic mistake." 
 
 " I told you how it would be," sighed Aunt Laura, mildly. " My 
 hands are clear " 
 
 " But the most amazing point is the blindness of the North, 1 
 pursued Mr. Strebling hastily, determined not to give up the track. 
 " If we suffer in this manner, how much greater will be the loss 
 there ! " 
 
 " And all for free soil ! " Aunt Laura brought in when he stopped 
 for breath. " To prevent slavery on ground where it could not exist. 
 An ideal negro in a hypothetical territory, as Alexander Stuart put 
 it. I never understood the matter until I heard him. Now I do." 
 
 " Yes, my dear madam, yes ! " blandly nodding. " But, as I 
 observed, what is to become of the North shut off from us? It is 
 a shop without patrons, a market without customers. Cut off from 
 our supplies, too. Cottons, sugars, tobacco. Their mills will close, 
 their operatives will rise their streets will flow with blood ! " 
 
 " I thought Philadelphia and New York unusually alive with 
 business when I left," Margaret said, quietly. 
 
 " What could a child like you know of political ruin ? " said 
 Aunt Laura, with acerbity. 
 
 Mr. Strebling was suddenly silent ; he began pacing up and down 
 with long, uneven strides. The weather-cock, which he called a 
 brain, was pointing another way. When he stopped, which he did 
 presently, chafing his hands and smiling feebly, there was some 
 thing in his voice which made Garrick look up, and reminded Mar 
 garet that it was an old man who stood before her. 
 
 " Philadelphia, my dear ? You are going back again, eh ? I had 
 Borne friends there some friends. I have often asked about them, 
 but nobody seems to know them. Nobody seems to know if they 
 are dead or alive." 
 
 " Who were they ? " with a sudden deference in her tone. 
 " Perhaps, I may know them. Unlikely things happen." 
 
 "No, my dear, no," resuming his slow walk. "There was a 
 Quaker named Yates a queer little body, who took an odd fancy 
 to a mulatto boy of mine. But he died Sap died." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 41 
 
 " Was there any one else ? " asked Margaret. 
 
 " No. A little girl that I took an interest in ; a little girl. She 
 would be a woman now Rosslyn." 
 
 " A curious name," said Miss Conrad, kindly, humoring the old 
 man s fancy. For the first time it occurred to her how little was 
 done by anybody to humor him, how empty of pleasure and in 
 terest his life was. " If I should meet Rosslyn there, I will tell 
 her that you remember her ? " 
 
 He stopped on the hearth-rug, drawing his thin figure erect, and 
 rubbing his chin nervously. 
 
 " You will not meet her, madam. Her name is Rosslyn Comly. 
 Comly was a blacksmith. She was a market-huckster she sold 
 fish, I think. There is not one of my house hands that is not better 
 clothed. They would look down on her work, and her company. 
 No, Miss Conrad, you will not meet Rosslyn." 
 
 He spoke vehemently, and when he had finished an awkward 
 silence fell on the little party. 
 
 It was broken by Cole, a middle-aged, watchful-looking negro, 
 who came through the half-open door. " Yer horse is ready, M s 
 Garrick, ef yer goin over to Wairford s to-night." 
 
 " Why, Garrick ! I thought you meant to sleep at home," cried 
 Aunt Laura. " It is late, child," pulling out her watch. 
 
 " I ought to go," said Randolph. He rose slowly and stood with 
 his hand on the mantle-shelf, glancing out at the night, with his 
 grave, reserved, schoolmaster air, as Miss Conrad called it. 
 
 " He flinches ! " she thought. " But many a good horse balks at 
 the starting post." 
 
 She and the negro watched him keenly as he drew on his over 
 coat, slowly looking around the room. The fire light shone warmly 
 on the cheap carpet ; on the glossy, patched old sideboard with its 
 display of massive plate ; on the Copley and Allston hung over the 
 faded wall paper ; at Aunt Laura herself, with all the weight of the 
 honor of the Pages in her lean, little body, and feebly dogmatic 
 face. Commonplace furniture, and a weak old woman, to Miss Con- f 
 rad, but they had a different meaning to him. They were sentient 
 with the clean, sweet childhood he had spent among them, and the 
 youth that followed. 
 
 Shrewd, wide-awake, town-bred fellows, full of pluck and energy, 
 who pant for the day when they can cut loose from " the governor " 
 and make their own way, can hardly understand what it cost the 
 young Kentuckian to leave this homestead, never, in all probability, 
 to come back. He thought to himself with a quiet, inward smile 
 that it was like tearing a shell-fish fresh from its rock ; some of the 
 flesh and nerves would be left. Miss Conrad did not understand 
 the meaning of the blue eyes that met hers as she bowed good 
 night, and went out to her own room. 
 

 42 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Afraid ? " she said, astonished, to herself. 
 
 The Professor was not afraid. But it was such a short mat 
 ter to say good-by ! If he never came back, Aunt Laura would 
 cry for a week or two, and his experiments on albumen with his 
 class would never be finished ; that was all. There was no enemy 
 for him to leave behind, no woman s lips to kiss. " If the pitcher 
 be broken at the fountain, it is one that has held but little water," 
 he thought. All of Randolph s thoughts ran formally like sen 
 tences in books, and sounded to him generally, as if some one else 
 had spoken them, there had been, so far, so little live pleasure and 
 pain in them. 
 
 While Cole brought his horse to the steps, he stood looking out 
 into the moonlight, holding his gloves in one hand, Aunt Laura and 
 Mr. Strebling s patter of talk dully sounding behind him. 
 
 Once before, a boy fresh from college, he had left home, gone 
 North to make a fortune. He crept out of the world he knew, the 
 little clan of Lees and Pages, with their mild refinement, old rules, 
 habits, anecdotes, even gestures, handed down from generation to 
 generation. He was a crab, raw from its shell, bruised at every 
 turn. He was stunned, bewildered with the jargon of new theories 
 and facts ; every man he met was a radical ; the air, the language, 
 the ideas were crude, untempered, coarse. What could he do? 
 What he did do was to creep back home again ; give up the idea 
 of making a fortune and go back to his college class-room to teach 
 instead of to learn. He was going from under cover again, and if 
 he won death in this venture it would be the t first real stroke of 
 work he had ever done, he thought, turning into the room to say 
 good-by, with a sad, quizzical smile. 
 
 He kept the face of the dead man in the road before him as he 
 would hold liquor to his lips to steady his nerve. This venture of 
 his was a manly thing to do, a deed of derring-do, on which his 
 old father would have smiled grimly. " I would rather my son 
 would die in a great cause, than live to comfort my old age," he 
 had said, once. 
 
 When the war began, his son had theoretically called the struggle 
 of the Government for life a great cause, but practically the Federal 
 German mercenaries were laying waste his friend s plantations, so 
 he had not gone to die with them. 
 
 He said good-night now, with another slow look around the 
 room, and went out to mount his horse. As he settled himself in 
 the saddle, " Oh, by the way, Cole," in his usual indolent drawl. 
 " If I should not come back you ll find your free papers, yours and 
 Viney s, made out, in my bureau drawer." 
 
 Cole touched his forehead. " I was aweer dey was dravved out 
 accepable, M s Garrick, However, it might have been safer like 
 if dey wos in our hands. We d hev been here all de same of de 
 day of your return." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 43 
 
 " Aunt Laura has charge of them. Bring me a light." As he lit 
 a cigar, the blacksmith stood, passing his stumpy, yellow finger* 
 over the young man s leg, smoothing down the trousers. Randolph 
 stooped suddenly, looking into the old man s face. His own 
 changed. 
 
 " Why, Cole ! You are not making a woman of yourself over 
 me?" 
 
 The negro passed his hand over his eyes, standing up stiffly 
 " No, sah ! But I nussed you, if you remember." 
 
 Garrick paused a moment ; then he nervously straightened his 
 hat and drew the bridle ; holding out his hand, " Well, good-by 
 uncle," with an altered voice. 
 
 The old man gave him his blessing, in a whisper at first, then as 
 he cantered off, rising into a class-leading voice, so loud as to bring 
 Miss Conrad to an open window beside him. Cole improved his 
 chance of an audience. "He s gone down into de plains of de 
 great battle," swinging his hand toward the dusky horizon line at 
 the north, and uttering the words in a shrill drone. " He s gone 
 whar de smell of his brother s blood shell sicken his heart, and his 
 horse shell tramp among de slain of his people. But de young 
 man s eyes is blinded. He knows it is God a treadin out de wine 
 press of his wrath, but he forgetteth de cause." 
 
 " Well, Uncle Cole, what is the cause ? " 
 
 Margaret s cool, amused smile sobered him. He dropped the 
 nasal twang, held up his old fur cap to his face, eyeing her shrewdly 
 over it, as if doubtful how far to venture. " What am de cause 
 why de rivers yander run wid blood, and de whole earth groan and 
 am not quiet ? In de meetin our people asks dat of me. But I 
 cannot tell. Dere is dem dat say " the dull, black eye laid mo 
 tionless on hers "day say Tarn de cause, an my wife not Viney, 
 but de one I lef on a Georgy rice-field she am de cause, an my 
 boy, Pont, who was hunted wid dogs in de swamp down dar, he 
 am de cause." 
 
 Miss Conrad s face hardened, and she looked through the man as 
 though nothing interposed between her and the moonlight; the 
 keen physical disgust in her blood to the black skin, as plain to his 
 instinct, as if it had showed (which it did not) on her face. 
 
 " As if," she said, pointing to the figure of his master, cut clear 
 against the sky as his horse rose on the hill-road, " as if God would 
 bring countless young heads like that to the dust, that you might 
 leave your corn and pork here, and starve in a Northern city ! " 
 
 " You ve seen de cullored people up dar," said Cole, breathlessly, 
 not heeding her words. " I would like to see what freedom does 
 for dem, Miss Marget." 
 
 " It does nothing for them," carelessly, remembering to whom she 
 was speaking. " There are few of them like you, Uncle Cole you* 
 
44 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 people. They are like Mose. He does light work here ; he shaves 
 beards, or whitewashes walls, or steals ; he does the same in Phila 
 delphia. He is thick-Mpped and thriftless and affectionate, go where 
 he will ; only in the South they hunt him with dogs, and in the 
 North they calculate how many years of competition with the white 
 race it will need to sweep him and his like off of the face of the 
 earth." 
 
 " Tank you, Miss Marget. Mose was allers a drefful lazy nig 
 ger ; " and Cole put on his cap over his bewildered face, and sham 
 bled off to the kitchen. 
 
 Miss Conrad looked after the broad, squat figure. " I let him feel 
 the bit," she said, laughing to herself. " Cole was beginning to 
 fancy himself one of God s people going out from Egypt, and Gar- 
 rick s cattle would have suffered the loss." As she stood listening 
 to the beat of Randolph s horse s hoofs on the far road, it occurred 
 to her that Death was coming into almost every household in the 
 land, as in the days of Pharaoh. Could it be in order that this 
 thick-lipped, thriftless, good-hearted Mose should go free? The 
 horse s feet echoed dully, going down on the other side of the hill, 
 carrying his rider into the plain of the great battle, as Cole called 
 it, justly enough. "And blood like his is to pay their ransom? If 
 God does not make better use of Mose, free, than slave, He will 
 have been a bad economist of the world s strength," she thought. 
 
 The last echo died faintly ; she closed the window, and the farm 
 house and sleeping fields were left in the night and silence ; beyond 
 the hill a grave, heavily-built man on horseback made his .way cau 
 tiously, through thickets of scrub-oak, where sudden danger lurked 
 past the slopes where glittered the white tents of the outposts of 
 Zollicoffer s army. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HUNTED DOWN. 
 
 ONE damp, drizzly evening in November, a lumbering old family 
 carriage was drawn up on the muddy bank of a little hill creek in 
 Marion county. The mulatto boy who drove it had watered the 
 horses, and climbing up under shelter again, sat snugly wrapped in 
 a man s gum overcoat, peering out at the dreary, darkening even- 
 v ing ; the muddy sheet of water in front, swollen with the Fall rains ; 
 the low hill on the opposite bank overgrown with pawpaw and 
 haw-bushes. It was a lonely, untravelled road ; nothing of life was 
 in sight but a rusty blackbird, that flew with a hoarse call over his 
 head, and left him alone in the darkness. Pitt whistled shrilly and 
 began to tug at the reins for a start, when a motion in the weeds on 
 the opposite shore caught his rolling eyes. He stopped a moment, 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 45 
 
 then the whistle grew louder, and he squatted clown, tying his 
 shoes, watching the bushes from under the shadow of his hat. 
 Presently he saw a w^hite man, dressed only in muddy trousers and 
 flannel shirt, his hair and beard ragged and uncombed, raise himself 
 rautiously from behind the rock where he lay, listening, with his 
 ear to the ground. 
 
 Pitt bent his own head ; he fancied he could hear the beat of 
 men s feet heavy in the soggy mud ; they were on the other side of 
 the scrub-grown hill, coming closer rapidly. The boy s whistle 
 continued shrill and even ; he lazily scraped the lumps of mud from 
 the apron of the carriage, his eyes contracting like a cat s on the 
 watch. 
 
 This was in November, 1861 ; the month when North and South 
 met in a hand-to-hand fight to force her sham of neutrality from 
 Kentucky. Their forces grappled each other in every county of the 
 State, while the Kentuckians, compelled to take sides, stood defiant, 
 suspicious of each other ; had not many a man found an enemy in 
 his brother or son, or an assassin in his neighbor ? About the fire 
 side, or at the family table, there was a chill of rancor in the air, 
 more terrible than the heat of any battle. The keen sense of dan 
 ger in all the border States made the atmosphere electric ; the very 
 children stood on guard ; this mulatto, a dull drudge about the sta 
 bles, before the war, took the life of the man yonder in his hand 
 at an instant s challenge cool, alert, cautious. There was not a 
 breath of time to lose; the man crept to the bank feebly, while the 
 steps behind him were both heavy and swift. 
 
 " Dem is Drigg s men ; dey show no quarter, an he s nigh run 
 down ; " while he scraped on at the mud, giving a quick, furtive 
 sign to the man to take to the water, and indicating the course of 
 the current by a swiftly-aimed bit of clay. " Dar s but one chance," 
 drawing his breath sharply as he whistled. On this side of the 
 creek, one or two miles inland, were the pickets thrown out by 
 Thomas, then at Lebanon. On this side, he would be safe. But to 
 reach it ? He had plunged into the muddy river ; only his face and 
 hands, as he swam, were visible ; but the boy s eyes were sharp. 
 "He s starving. They ve run him hard. He ll not make shore." 
 The current was not deep, barely neck high, but, in the middle, 
 strong. "He ll not make shore," seeing how it sucked him in, and 
 that his strokes were ineffectual. 
 
 The men s voices could be heard coming round the bend ; there 
 were half a dozen of them, laughing and cursing the mud. The 
 thicket detained them a moment, two being mounted. There was 
 yet half of the width of the creek to cross, the man struggling in 
 the current. The yellow water curdled thick in rings away from 
 him ; the drizzling mist which had been falling cleared off, leaving 
 him barely within their guns range. 
 
46 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The whistle came out of Pitt s dry mouth in one or two thin 
 gasps, then stopped. 
 
 " Gor-a-mighty ! he ll not make the shore ! " he cried. 
 
 The silence lasted long after that. The thin face, with its drag 
 gled hair, set jaws and staring eyes, but slowly worked its way 
 toward the bank, while fast and faster the steps hurried behind. 
 Through all, he held something clenched in his left hand as h 
 swam. 
 
 " What kin the man set agin his life ? " Pitt, down on his kneea 
 in the mud with a log pushed out, snarled to him savagely to open 
 his fist, and give himself headway, but Garrick smiled coolly. In 
 the two weeks in which he had been dogged for his life, hungry, with 
 frozen feet, creeping on his belly through thickets beset with Zolli- 
 coifer s scouts, this bullet in his hand had come to mean duty ; to 
 mean a good, high deed for the world s help, in the doing of which 
 his life was a paltry thing to sacrifice. He had grown morbid about 
 it, perhaps. Yet in the Kentucky parlors, with a bevy of common 
 place women about him, he had always been a grave, diffident, 
 reticent man ; now, when Death had him by the throat, he smiled 
 back gayly, brain and blood on flame with a new fire, the very 
 essence of youth, freshly come to him. 
 
 He had almost gained the shore ; the end of the log floated within 
 his reach. He threw himself forward, missed it, and sank. 
 
 Pitt crept out on it cautiously, and, lying flat, thrust out his hand. 
 Garrick caught it. He could hear the rustling of the dead leaves 
 on the opposite bank, the men were so close upon him. 
 
 The icy water drove him back, lapping his legs and chest ; the 
 thick mud choking and blinding him, when, with all his gathered 
 strength, he fought for footing on the shelving bank. 
 
 Death, was it ? 
 
 He was on flame, possessed, shaken with that fierce animal cour 
 age which maddens men in the thick of battle ; yet with it there 
 was the vague consciousness that it was not his pursuers, nor the 
 clammy current that he grappled with, but that treacherous thing 
 whose dull weapons they were. A struggle, wrenching the breath 
 from him, a leap, a yell of triumph, which died, fortunately, silent 
 in his exhausted lungs, and then he dragged himself slowly on shore 
 at the mulatto s feet, among the weeds and slime. He pulled up 
 his knees, clasping his hands about them; the bullet rubbed rough 
 in his shut palm ; the face of the Yankee mechanic, dead, y onder, 
 in the drift- way, rose plain before him. " I said I would do his 
 work for him, and I ve done it," muttered the Kentucky gentleman. 
 
 Pitt threw his rubber coat about him, his teeth chattering with 
 excitement. " Gor-a-mighty, get up wid ye. Drive de wagon up 
 to de house yonder. Don t mind me. Dis nigger ll be safe enufF! " 
 
 Garrick rose, stiffly, pausing a moment to consider. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 47 
 
 " Git in ! " whispered Pitt. " They re goin to cross. Yere risk- 
 in my life and your n. In, I tell you." 
 
 Garrick mounted into the lad s place. Pitt stooped down to the 
 muddy shore, breaking out again into his breathless whistle, as 
 the old carriage began to go slowly up the road. 
 
 Garrick ventured to look out when he had reached the top of the 
 hill. In the fog, creek, and fields, and sky were buried under one 
 dull, colorless hue, the air itself swathing them down, muddy and 
 wet. One or two lights began to twinkle in houses far beyond the 
 line which had seemed to him to mark the horizon. He waited to 
 see if the boy was safe. 
 
 The men on horseback had crossed, and were coming toward 
 him. Their questions, between oaths, and the fog, failed to reach 
 Randolph. Pitt s shrill treble was purposely pitched high. 
 
 " What am I bout ? " lazily, " eels, I reckon," straightening him 
 self, with his hand to his back. 
 
 " Anybody cross hyur ? No, I didn t see anybody cross hyur. 
 Who was it ? Par s no ford hyur ; dar s de ford," pointing about 
 half a mile up the creek. " I see a man skulking up dar." 
 
 " When ? " The men reined up their horses, irresolute. 
 
 "Half an hour back, s likely." 
 
 " If the cussed spy kept to the other side, Williams had him 
 when he reached the ford. We ll beat the bush up. It will be but 
 ten minutes work. We kin come back and try, if the nigger s 
 lying." 
 
 He had only a moment of respite, then. 
 
 The old horses jogged on heavily ; one stopped to cough, and 
 shake its steaming sides, when his life lay on each movement of its 
 soggy feet ! He could meet death in the river, but to be hung for 
 a spy like a dog ? 
 
 Life actual man s life, which he was beginning to know in the 
 strain and danger of these two weeks was drawn back from him. 
 Starving and half-frozen as he had been through this adventure of 
 his, it had dawned on him with a splendor of possibility which his 
 boyish dreams even had never reached. 
 
 His nerves shook with fever; then with cold; a white flash of 
 light filled the air. To be choked here by these ruffians ? left dead 
 like a rat in this mud ? He let fall the reins, and opened and shut 
 his hands, like a nervous woman. There was a stricture like an 
 iron band about his throat, his wrists, his eyebrows. He looked 
 after the group of dark figures disappearing in the mist. They 
 would presently hem him in, trample out his soul from his body > 
 as easily as that of a lizard under their heels. 
 
 His blood dilated, every nerve stung him. If he could lay his 
 hand on them? He had strength to crush them into hell. 
 
 There was no cool, gritty endurance in Randolph s courage ; as 
 
48 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 he looked out of the fold of Pitt s great coat down at the creek "bank 
 and the men upon his trail, between love of life, and a fierce thirst 
 for their blood, his face was gaunt and strained, and his eyes dull, 
 as those of a man who has held down his passion too long. 
 
 Miss Conrad would have said the shell was only breaking off 
 which had crusted over him in the old college library, from which 
 he had been dragged, and that a few more touches of the knife 
 would bring all that was in him of good or ill to the light. 
 
 The knife cut roughly and deep ; if some traits and lines which 
 only God had seen before, yawned sudden and black on the sur 
 face, it only proved that the chivalric gentleman bore a subtle kin 
 ship to us all beneath all difference of blood or color. They were 
 not vicious traits ; mean, only. Wrath against God even in that 
 instant of supreme danger, for suffering his life to be so ignobly 
 wasted ; his life. The Randolph blood, his culture, his dainty, fas 
 tidious youth, the delicate, refined world of ideas he had made for 
 himself to be crushed out of life by men made in the image of 
 brutes ! The impregnable conceit of the man, his steely confidence 
 in himself and his race, never were so bare or shameless as in that 
 moment. 
 
 The horses stopped suddenly in front of a red brick house which 
 stood back from the road, in a square acre lot full of withered beet 
 and tomato beds, and decaying rows of hollyhocks and German 
 asters; house and garden, wet, gray and desolate in the dark, 
 driving mist. The house door opened, and two women, cloaked 
 and hooded, came down the path, the slighter and taller of the 
 two, in advance, with a light, firm step. She came to the wheel of 
 the carriage, and tapped on the mountings ; the white fingers were 
 quick, decisive, the voice quiet, authoritative. 
 
 " Are you able to drive to Lebanon ?" 
 
 The voice steadied Garrick back to his old self. "I will not 
 drive to Lebanon. It is not your mulatto," pushing back his dis 
 guise. " I did not know there were women to be brought into 
 trouble when I took his place," trying to pass her. 
 
 She put him back with a sharp gesture. " There is no time to 
 lose. I saw it all from the window yonder. Silence ! " turning to 
 open the gate again for the lady who came feebly down the path. 
 " She is old and weak. She must know nothing." 
 
 Garrick threw down the reins, pushing her aside roughly. " I 
 did not know there were women. Am I sunk to that that I 
 would hide behind a woman s skirts ? You shall not risk it. If 
 this is to be the end, let it be the end." 
 
 She turned with a childish, angry click of her teeth. " Are you 
 mad ? In ten minutes the men will be upon us. I risk nothing. 
 Be quiet and drive swiftly ; leave the rest to me. We have passes. 
 I risk nothing." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 49 
 
 " You do not know me. Those ruffians called me a spy." 
 
 "What does it matter? I know that nothing can save you, if I 
 do not. Those are Drigg A s men." Her voice broke as if from sud 
 den womanish terror; but when she turned to assist her companion 
 into the carriage, it was again clear and courageous. 
 
 Randolph paused, his foot on the wheel. It was his only 
 chance. 
 
 " I risk nothing," she whispered, putting him back gently, after 
 Bhe had closed the door. Then she sprang up to the seat behind 
 him. 
 
 " Thee must drive quickly, Pitt," said the old lady. 
 
 " Turn to the right ; the road is straight and level," interposed 
 the girl s distinct tones. "There are but two miles between here 
 and the Federal lines." Presently, she slipped a flask in his hand, 
 which he found contained brandy. 
 
 It was like an intolerable nightmare upon him ; the beating rain, 
 the silence, the uneven black lines of fence wavering at either side 
 as they passed, the gray strip of road in front, along which the 
 horses jogged slowly ; the death hurrying up behind. The liquor 
 warmed his half-frozen body. He was conscious of something be 
 side the sound of horses hoofs, which began now to dully echo far 
 behind; he began to remember that the bullet was still clenched in 
 his hand ; that he was wet, stiff, miserable, that he was a coward. 
 To sit there and let this woman save him ? Did .she risk her own 
 life ? Who was she ? 
 
 With the tramp of the horses gaining on them every moment, 
 keen curiosity about the woman began to work in his brain, to 
 quicken his eyesight and hearing. Her motions and voice gave him 
 an odd impression about her, for Randolph was susceptible to all 
 solitary, morbid fancies. Through the night and danger she 
 seemed to carry all youth and freshness ; her voice might have 
 belonged to good fortune, itself, it was so cheery, strong and 
 sweet. 
 
 Was she good fortune ? He was apt to search for omens. 
 
 There was a light broadly streaming across the road from a 
 toll-house window ; he would see her there ; if her face was what 
 he had fancied, he would take it as a promise a prophecy of safety 
 and honor, and success. This, while his own horses flagged, and 
 those of his pursuers came closer. But Garrick was a man, and 
 young. 
 
 The toll-house was reached, and while the keeper unbarred the 
 gate, the light of his lantern fell on the black hood of her cloak ; 
 he could only catch beneath it the glimmer of yellow hair, and a 
 curious contrast of soft brown eyes; then she pushed the hood 
 aside, and looked at him ; he saw the face full in the light. He had 
 looked at many beautiful women before, unmoved, but now, he bent 
 4 
 
50 
 
 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 f 
 
 forward with a deep breath ; a shiver passed over him as of exquisite 
 pleasure or pain. The girl smiled ; the face bent out of the darkness 
 beside her, with lips apart. A fastidious, delicate face, in spite of the 
 mat about it of ragged beard and hair; blue eyes which were better 
 fitted to express rare morbid shades of feeling than intellect. His 
 lips moved, rather than spoke. "I had a strange fancy about you. 
 Who are you ? " A curious, hard expression passed over her face. 
 " You may call me Rosslyn Burley." 
 
 There was a shout, a trampling of hoofs on the other side of the 
 gate, and in the next moment the carriage was surrounded, and a 
 hand laido n Randolph s shoulder dragged the cloak from off his face. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE DEAD SCOUT S ENVOY. 
 
 ~^ts, ACE to face with danger in 
 the shape of one man or a 
 dozen, Garrick s blood told. 
 He stepped quietly down 
 among them, laying his hand 
 on the pommel of the leader s 
 saddle, saying: 
 
 " There is no need of this 
 hubbub : I am your prisoner. 
 The ladies must pass. I give 
 you my word, they are not 
 responsible for my presence 
 here. They must pass." 
 
 A whisper from Rosslyn 
 held the old lady in check. 
 
 " A light here, Grier." The 
 young officer stooped from 
 his saddle, while the toll- 
 keeper flashed his lantern 
 over the tall man, wet, in 
 rags, holding himself up by 
 the saddle-bow, his breath 
 mmmm^m^m^mmmmmmmmmi com i ng w j th laborious rattle 
 
 through his lungs. He spoke with the sharp, disagreeable tone 
 common to him when with his inferiors. 
 
 "The carriage must go on. You have no authority to detain 
 these women, young man." 
 
 The officer raised himself again. " Who is this fellow, Friend 
 Blanchard?" turning to the carriage door. "Your boy, Pitt, is 
 here before you. I came to meet you, fearing you had been im 
 posed upon. There is as much chance that he is a Rebel spy as 
 one of our own scouts." 
 
 The old lady pulled the leather curtain apart, enough to show her 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 51 
 
 wrinkled face with a delicate, shrewd smile on it. If it had been 
 her wedding, or her death day, you would have seen, in all proba 
 bility, the same smile of keen-witted good temper. 
 
 " Thee must ask Rosslyn, Charles. It is an estray belonging to 
 her and to Pitt. My role, I saw, was- to Jbe blind and dumb." 
 
 The officer s horse moved. Garrick staggered ; grew dizzy; the 
 pools of yellow mud at his feet, the night, the faces about him, 
 became unreal as a dream. He stiffened himself, hearing his own 
 voice hoarse and far off as he spoke. 
 
 " I am among friends, then ? " 
 
 " You are within the Federal lines." 
 
 " He is no spy," said the cool, careless voice inside of the car 
 riage. " Thee must be a bad judge of stock, Charles." 
 
 " What rank do you hold, sir ?" Garrick addressed the young 
 officer as he would one of his boys at school, and the young man 
 answered involuntarily, as promptly as if he were one. 
 
 " I am Captain Charles Otey, of the Twelfth Kentucky, serving 
 at present on Thomas staff." 
 
 Garrick looked in his face a moment. 
 
 "lean trust you, I think. This is a dispatch; it must go to 
 
 Thomas to-night. I wanted to end my work, but " While 
 
 Otey took the bullet from his hand, his head fell against the horse s 
 flank. They crowded about him. 
 
 " You are ill ? " Otey stooped to loosen his cravat. 
 
 " No. They pushed me hard, though ; and I have eaten nothing 
 for thirty- six hours." 
 
 Grier and the men hustled together, half carrying him into the 
 toll-house. At the door he looked back at Rosslyn. 
 
 Otey rode up hurriedly to the carriage, the bullet close in his 
 palm. 
 
 " I must push on. I will detail a guard for you, Friend 
 Blanchard. Corporal ! " The little red-headed man was all in a 
 tremor of excitement. 
 
 " We must look after our estray, Charles ; we will stay here," 
 with a quizzical glance backward, pushing open the door. "Thy 
 spy is one of the Page-Randolphs : that nose is unmistakable. 
 Rosslyn carried the witch-hazel as usual, and, as usual, found the 
 ore." 
 
 Otey curbed his mare impatiently. " Grier ! There are comfort 
 able rooms here : it may be better for you than going further in the 
 rain. But you are mistaken as to the Page-Randolph ; I happen to 
 know this dispatch was to be sent by Lieutenant Smalley, one of 
 Schoepf s men." 
 
 " Tut, tut, boy ! I ve detected blood that I knew in the fifth re 
 move. A room for myself and Miss Burley, Mr. Grier, and a cup 
 of coffee, I know thy good wife s coffee. And tell Mr. Randolph 
 
52 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 I will be glad if he will breakfast with us in the morning, if he is 
 able." 
 
 Otey shrugged his shoulders, and galloped off. Miss Burley men 
 tally shrugged hers, and grew hot under her cloak as she followed 
 the old lady s swift, stately steps into the low porch, and stood, 
 afterward, by the fire inside, waiting. To her mind, she had done 
 enough for this man, be he Randolph or Smalley. She wanted to 
 go on, and wash her hands of him. 
 
 Ross Burley, every day, was as headlong as her blundering old 
 grandfather in putting out her hands to anybody who was in the 
 mire ; whether man, woman, or beast, mattered nothing to her. 
 There was a history in her fresh face. Under all the glamour of its 
 loveliness there was a downright, honest look in it, that said, 
 " What can I do for you ? No one can need help as I once did." 
 If she could se rve you, her mother wit, the little knowledge for 
 which she had worked so hard, her tender, delicate body, were to 
 her only so much machinery for work. Until you, by some look 
 like that of Garrick s to-night, recognized her beauty as not ma 
 chinery. That lance rung challenge on her woman s shield ; there 
 was not an atom of the soft, tinted flesh in which her soul lay hid 
 den that did not shrink, jealous and indignant, from the taint of 
 homage. 
 
 It may have been some subtle remembrance of her father or 
 mother s story that added this morbid pain to her sense of maidenly 
 reserve. Standing now alone in the dull little parlor, she wrapped 
 the cloak nervously closer about her. She caught sight of her face 
 in the bleared mantel glass, and turned sharply away to hide it. 
 Fair or foul, it was not for every man s eye to gloat on ; it belonged 
 
 to herself and . As she bent, looking into the fire, a pink flush 
 
 stole up from her throat over the face ; the brown eyes darkened into 
 a dewy splendor; then she suddenly stood upright with a smile, 
 and went forward to the opening door, shutting doAvn out of sight 
 the dres-M for which she herself had as yet no name. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN, AND OUT OF THE CURRENT. 
 
 GARRIOK RANDOLPH woke the next morning, with his face close 
 011 the square uncurtained window, behind which a chilly red dawn, 
 unfolding over muddy stubble fields, lay like a picture in a frame. 
 There was a gray horse tied by the steps outside; there were voices 
 in the inn parlor, off which his chamber lay, and a glare of yellow 
 candle-light levelled through the key-hole and under the door. He 
 sprang out of bed, and began to dress, his muscles as supple and eyes 
 as bright as if his night s heavy sleep had been a dip into some healing 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 53 
 
 water. His money had been strapped in a leather belt under hia 
 shirt ; with some of it Grier had bought him clean and whole clothes ; 
 he dressed himself carefully, so that Otey, who had not looked beyond 
 his arrogance and vagabond wet trousers and rags the night before, 
 stood perplexed when a quiet, heavilybuilt man, in a decorous suit of 
 brown cheviot, appeared in the parlor. Captain Otey held his hat iu 
 his hand ; his boots were bespattered with mud ; he walked impa 
 tiently, as he talked to Friend Blanchard and Miss Burley, up and 
 down the room, in which the two sickly lights of candles and dawn 
 struggled together. 
 
 " I have ridden hard, Friend Blanchard," addressing the Quaker 
 ess, who sat, her finger-tips crossed over her dove-colored dress. 
 " We march in an hour. But I wished to tell Lieutenant Smalley 
 myself that his name has been forwarded for promotion." 
 
 A queer, perplexed smile crept over Garrick s face ,as he gravely 
 bowed ; but his heart gave a sudden throb. He had won this re 
 ward, then, for the dead soldier ? It was his first live, actual work ; 
 he turned this pay for it over in his hand as a boy might his first 
 prize at school ; it tasted for a moment like a morsel of sweet manna 
 on his tongue. Then, not hearing Captain Otey s fluent praise of his 
 bravery, but following him with amused, anxious eyes, " I did not 
 expect promotion," he said, with an involuntary gesture, as if he 
 took something in his hand. " It is cumbersome." 
 
 He looked slowly around in his ordinary staid, grave way : the 
 square room fixing itself in his memory, sharp and defined as a 
 photograph ; the glimmer of morning, where it had found Rosslyn s 
 head rising out of her blue drapery, and rested there; the lithe, 
 stately figure of the old Quakeress her clear-cut face, with its 
 white hair, and brilliant, questioning eyes under shaggy black brows, 
 bent forward out of the shadow ; then he turned to the little captain, 
 coining up to him. Otey s was a peevish, but trusty face. Gar- 
 rick put out his hand to detain him. 
 
 A voice like the tang, tang of a worn-out guitar broke in : " Now, 
 Lieutenant Smalley is going to tell thee, Charles, that his name is 
 Randolph, and that his mother was a Page." 
 
 " Yes. I never heard the name of Lieutenant Smalley until this 
 moment. I found him dead, with his work nearly done ; I only 
 finished it. I claim the credit and reward for him ; I claim the pro 
 motion for him also. You must help me in this matter, Cap 
 tain Otey. I cannot show myself in the camp where he is known. 
 I trust it to you, if there be any one who cares for him, that tftey 
 know that he did good service, and died when it was done. I trust 
 to you to keep my secret." 
 
 Ross drew a sudden breath, and half rose to her feet ; Abigail 
 Blanchard stroked her hands softly together with a fine, subtle 
 smile ; the little captain shifted his cap uneasily from one hand to 
 another, looking up perplexed in Garrick s face. 
 
54 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Impossible, sir, impossible ! It is contrary to all usage or law 
 to promote a dead man," dogmatically. " You wish no step for 
 yourself? " 
 
 " I am not in the service." 
 
 " Well," relaxing his sandy brows as if the matter imported 
 nothing ; " it is no affair of mine. When I was a boy, I might have 
 masqueraded also. But I will do what you wish. It is a trifle, 
 and your secret." 
 
 " No, Rosslyn, thee need not frown ; thee shall not wrong Charles 
 Otey," when he was gone. " There is a gallant soul in the boy s 
 little body, and a brain full of sheer common sense. But Ach-h ! 
 Man cannot live on bread alone ; " as she rose and came slowly 
 toward Garrick, a sweet smile on the aged face, and a curious 
 brilliance in the eyes. She stopped in front of him, quite silent for 
 a moment, then held out her hand, saying : 
 
 " Last night I thought my old friend, Coyle Randolph, had left 
 a son : now I know it. It is not his face only that I have found 
 again." 
 
 Presently they sat down to breakfast together. Garrick was at 
 home now, and possessed his soul in comfort, breathing his native 
 air. His training and habits fitted him keenly to appreciate this 
 woman, whom he had long known by tradition, and knew to have 
 come to her inheritance of beauty and esprit in the days of Jefferson 
 and Burr; a grande dame in that keen-witted circle, but who was 
 now only white-haired Abigail Blanchard, misplacing her thees and 
 thous with a piquant stateliness. The simple, subtle grace of a fine 
 manner remained, as the delicate aroma with the dead flower. It 
 made the morning air oif from the muddy fields, gay, as well as fresh ; 
 it brought out all that was heartsome in the fire, the uncertain 
 lights ; it gave to the plain little breakfast the zest of a picnic. 
 
 He looked at his hands as he broke some bread, wondering if 
 they were the same that had dragged him through the slush and 
 mud yesterday ; mud, and frosted feet, and nauseated stomach had 
 sunk out of existence to-day impossibilities in this world which the 
 light, magic touches of the words of this old artist of society had 
 summoned suddenly about him. She and the grave, beautiful girl 
 opposite to him lived, he soon perceived, in an atmosphere of which 
 he knew nothing. He drew his breath quickly as he gathered hint 
 after hint, from their careless conversation, of what that atmosphere 
 was ; differing as widely from the bigoted bonhommie of educated 
 Virginian life as Abigail Blanchard with the keen insight in her 
 liquid, hazel eyes, with the unadorned but faultless pink-tipped hands 
 resting on the folds of her Quaker dress did from Aunt Laura, 
 generous, fussy and vain, the Page jewels still glittering on her 
 wrinkled breast or fingers ; or (and then the professor turned 
 soberly to Rosslyn as to a new problem in equations) as this 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 55 
 
 girl with her steady, brown eyes and sensitive mouth did from 
 the mocking, good-humored young women with whom he was at 
 once contemptuous and awkward. 
 
 Garrick s plunge into coarse pain and activity from the heated 
 ah* of his long seclusion had opened his mental pores, rendered him 
 keenly susceptible to any new enthusiasm. Ross Burley wondered 
 to see the broad-shouldered man who sat drinking cup after cup of 
 strong black coffee, opposite to her, bend forward, his dreamy, blue 
 eyes kindling like a child s at their last mention of their home life, so 
 commonplace to her. But to the women he had known, the reality 
 of life lay in the circuit of their county town : outside of that, the 
 world was but a map; meaningless to them except for their 
 geographies. This girl s education had been different ; wherever 
 her home might be, the air in it, he felt, was electric with energy; 
 it was but a focus from which opened fields of work fields where 
 help was needed. There was no dormant, unused power in her 
 brain ; her companions had been men and women who entered the 
 world as thorough-blooded competitors once sprang on the green, 
 springy turf in the grand old games, every natural strength severely 
 trained, every nerve pulsing with keen enjoyment; life itself a 
 stretch before them, of which there was not an inch but should 
 be conquered to yield to them its profit or its honor. 
 
 What if he went with them, as Friend Blanchard proposed, gayly ? 
 He had cut loose from all ties. Why not enter the service as 
 he had vaguely purposed ? She promised him a commission through 
 the influence of her own and his father s friends. If he had a 
 chance to breathe the stirring, vital air in which they had lived, it 
 would be good for him, in soul and body. With all his self-satisfac 
 tion, he was uneasily conscious of this. 
 
 " It seems to me an altogether feasible plan," she said, as she ended 
 her proposal. "We have been in Louisville for a month. I had 
 business there, and I brought Miss Burley that she might meet a 
 relative in the army. We return to Philadelphia at once. Thee 
 must weigh the matter, and decide, Garrick." 
 
 It was natural for Garrick in weighing so grave a matter to remain 
 silent ; besides, he had no mind that women should suppose a man 
 altered his whole course of life, unguidedby some philosophic monitor 
 within. So he sat, playing with his salt spoon with knitted brows, 
 while they talked to each other, lingering over their cups as women 
 love to do. He began to analyze the causes which had so differently 
 affected society in the South and the North, and then he wondered 
 how long it would take a bar of light, which shot through a knot-hole 
 in the shutter, to disentangle itself from the paly gold of Rosslyn s 
 hair. He waited until it had disentangled itself, then he wondered 
 what blood she had the Burleighs of Albany ? It would -need 
 pure birth as well as the influences under which she had lived to 
 
56 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 give her delicate head that poise of command, or to bestow the 
 manner simple and fin, the like of which he had never seen before. 
 He was a connoisseur in address ; this bewildered, mastered him. 
 A princess of the blood among her peers might be thus gravely 
 natural and unconscious, but, below the highest rank, women must 
 have an acquired polish, haughty or gracieuse, by which to assert 
 themselves; that was the society maxim. 
 
 He wondered if she remembered what he owed to her? He 
 would tell her some time when they were alone, that he had not for 
 gotten. But she was going North in half an hour would be gone. 
 If he remained behind, they never, in all chance, would meet 
 again. 
 
 Having spent a long enough time at his deliberation, he looked 
 up with his boyish, frank smile not at Miss Burley. 
 
 "You have prevailed," he said, holding out his hand to the 
 Quakeress. " I will go. Though I would have taken up arms for 
 the Government more readily if they had not invaded my State. 
 But the Page-Randolphs must, as always, be Tories and loyal." 
 
 Friend Blanchard smiled, looking at him through half-shut eyes. 
 " Pardon ! but to us at the North thy contracted motive seems 
 droll ! " 
 
 The professor stood erect. " We differ," he said, nettled. "To 
 me the war is a crime beginning in misconception, and to end in 
 ruin. While to you " 
 
 Her hand moved suddenly, irresolutely, and trembled as she ad 
 justed the artistic bands of white hair about her forehead, but her 
 voice was cool and guarded. " It is something different to us to 
 Rosslyn and me. At home we watch the regiments march past, 
 day after day, and fancy it is a crusade, on which they go to recover 
 something better than a sepulchre liberty for the slave." 
 
 Randolph laughed, good-naturedly. The eternal, miserable negro ! 
 So precisely a woman s puny view, he thought, of a great political 
 subversion ! 
 
 " You have the Northern idea of slavery," he said, courteously. 
 
 " Yes." She unlocked a travelling satchel which lay on the floor, 
 and took out a square bit of paper with a sketchy drawing on it. 
 "This is my idea of it, Garrick." He took it to the window. It 
 was the picture of an office in a Northern city; a candle flared on. 
 the desk ; through the window shone a harvest moon. Two or three 
 men stood about a packing-box, on the floor, with chisels in their 
 hands, having just opened it. Half of the lid was off. Within lay, 
 bent double, the figure of a negro ; an old and white-haired man ; 
 dead. There were the marks of the branding-iron on his forehead 
 and back of his neck. The face was sketched with wonderful 
 power ; it told the whole history of a man who had starved and 
 toiled to the end of the long voyage, and died in sight of land. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 57 
 
 " Trying to escape, eh ? " said Garrick, still good-humoredly, with 
 the knowledge of slavery as it really was, typified by Cole and his 
 twenty other fat, lazy negroes at home, to make him forbearing 
 with this slander. " How many such fictions as this are scattered 
 like fire-brands through the land ! " 
 
 "But this is true," said Ross, in her childlike, earnest way 
 " There is room there, you see, for another figure. That was I." 
 
 " You ? You saw this ? " Randolph bent over the paper, the 
 color changing on his face. " I am sorry to frame you even in 
 fancy, Miss Burley, in a scene like this. Some Abolition den, 
 doubtless." 
 
 " My grandfather s office," she said, simply. " All the fugitives 
 from the underground railroad came there. I can show you the 
 place when you come to Philadelphia," her eyes lighting, as if she 
 spoke of holy ground. " I used to wait, always, thinking they might 
 need a woman s help. And then I wanted to see them draw their 
 first free breath." 
 
 Abigail Blanchard watched, amused, the dumb amazement in 
 Randolph s face. He looked, startled, at the girl from head to foot, 
 a keener sense of her beauty forcing itself on him, and with it, the 
 old Southern type of the Yankee, lank-legged, long-haired, witli 
 coat-tail flapping between his legs ; the very man they would barrel 
 up in Vicksburg, and " roll into the Mississip, on suspicion of run 
 ning off niggers." 
 
 " I never have seen an Abolitionist like you," dryly. 
 
 She drew down her brows a moment, perplexed. " Almost all 
 Northerners, now, are opposed to slavery. But they have not seen 
 it as I have. Why," looking up at him, her voice sinking lower, 
 " negroes have come to that oifice from every State in the South, in 
 every disguise, in boxes, in bales, alive sometimes sometimes dead. 
 They have come maimed, scarred; with wounds that" her face 
 grew white, and her brown eyes dilated with horror. She covered 
 them, shivering. After a while she looked up, forcing a smile. " You 
 will think us fanatics, Mr. Randolph. You know slavery only 
 through your own kind mastership, perhaps. But I have had the 
 ugly fact in my hands in my hands" holding them out as if to 
 shake some clinging stain from them. 
 
 Garrick only noted the rose flush in their palms, and their nerv 
 ous, slight grace, smiling to himself at words which, from a man, 
 would have been insult and cant. Beauty, after all, he thought, 
 was that magic ointment in the old story, which made gum seem 
 amber, or coal a diamond. Then he looked closer at the paper. 
 
 "You did this?" 
 
 " Yes," taking it gently away. " But don t look at it. Slave 
 holders such as you, are not more in fault than we in the North." 
 
 Randolph s thoughts were far ofif from slaves or slaveholders. 
 
58 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 There was the strength, the purpose, the passion of a man in every 
 vigorous stroke of the drawing. He held it a moment, before giving 
 it to her, looking keenly at the pliable mould of the brow, out of 
 which the eyes looked gentle and friendly, at the sweet, merry con 
 tour of the mouth. Yet 
 
 " Who knows my work, knows me," he said significantly. 
 
 The color, which came and went unceasingly on Ross face, to 
 show how straight her words came with it from her heart, drew a 
 sudden, hot, angry veil over her bent forehead. 
 
 " You are right, no doubt," looking up in her simple, grave man 
 ner. " Yet the work is all, I think, which the world has a right to 
 see ; or, to judge ; " and, folding up the paper, she went directly 
 away. 
 
 Randolph stood uneasy, uncertain whether she meant a rebuke 
 or not. He did not see her again, as he and Friend Blanchard de 
 termined that it would be better for him to go alone to Louisville. 
 He rode over to Bardstown, therefore, and from thence to Louis 
 ville, waiting for them there a couple of days. 
 
 He had leisure in that time to settle back into his old costume ; 
 rich, brown cloth, fastidiously quiet ; with which the rare mud- 
 colored antique on his large white hand, harmonized ; he found, too, 
 a couple of bottles of genuine Romano Sherry, and a 1675 edition 
 of Dugdale s " Baronage," in an auction room, both of which he 
 stored away in his trunk, as pleased with his luck as a child. 
 
 The city was but a gate then through which the Federal troops 
 were pouring into Kentucky and Tennessee ; regiments of muscular 
 lumbermen from Maine : Massachusetts lawyers and doctors, with 
 spare, watchful faces : stolid, honest Pennsylvania Dutch : loAvans, 
 New "5 orkers, men from the shores of the great lakes, and from the 
 prairies, with brawny bodies and clear, sensible eyes, swept in end 
 less procession down the streets, or swarmed on the boats which 
 floated down the broad, muddy river. It was his first glimpse into 
 the great seething whirlpool. The tall, broad-backed, fine-coated 
 professor, with his irritable mouth and gentle blue eyes, and his 
 formal, old-fashioned courtesy, was pushed to the curb -stone, or on 
 the quay, by men alien to him in their creed, their past and their 
 future. He began to be dully conscious of a mighty current 
 sweeping by, which sucked in all the forces of the air and of life, 
 while he lay, a bit of weed, on shore. Whether the Page-Ran 
 dolphs were tories or not did not import so much, after all, perhaps. 
 He blushed a little, too, as he thought of the sherry, and his Dug- 
 dale, as he might have done had he been detected in playing with 
 a doll. 
 
 Friend Blanchard came at last, and they embarked on an empty 
 steamer going up for troops to Pittsburg. 
 
 Ross Burley grew pale and shy when he came near her. It was 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 59 
 
 only the keen curiosity she felt, however. His manner nad a repose 
 in it, an exaggerated deference to women, peculiarly Southern, but 
 new to her ; it was the trait of a hero, doubtless. She relished, 
 too, his risking his life for the honor of another man. The men 
 she knew in the war from the North were fighting for an idea. 
 Men generally, after their college days, cared little for each other 
 personally ; they kept their softer emotions for women. But Ran 
 dolph would have died for a stranger. In her secret soul she called 
 him Greatheart, and herself and Friend Blanchard, Mercy and 
 Christiana. She thought how they were going now through that 
 dark valley together, which lies close on the boundaries of hell. 
 She had her old habit of making stories out of all that was about 
 her. 
 
 To Randolph, the death about them was not so terrible as the 
 spasm of turmoil. The boat floated up between banks of desolated 
 homesteads, camps, landings heaped with army stores. In the night 
 the red flames of burning dwellings or villages gave a ghastly light 
 over the frozen fields ; steamers met them unceasingly, with wav 
 ing banners, triumphant music, laden to the water s edge with men 
 hurrying to the battle-field ; other boats swept silently before them, 
 and in their wake, filled with gaunt-eyed spectres from the fever 
 hospitals, or maimed wrecks of men going home to die. He was in 
 the current, in the endless unrest and action, with no rudder in his 
 hand. 
 
 The only point of rest was Rosslyn. He watched her, but sel 
 dom spoke. She was as a quiet Summer day in the midst of foul 
 Winter. The invisible circle of respect and homage, too, which 
 Abigail Blanchard s old-school etiquette drew about the young 
 beauty suited his chivalric fancy. 
 
 Rosslyn? Rosslyn? The name had a clean, clear ring in it 
 which became her. It annoyed him that Strebling had called 
 some huckster whom he knew by the same. It tainted the word. 
 For Strebling s look, even, to fall on a woman was, in Garrick a 
 nind, to leave a stain upon her. 
 
 The days crept on. 
 
 Friend Blanchard grew restless. She sat in the mornings on the 
 rounded deck of the boat, watching uneasily Ross light, blue-clad 
 figure down among the women of the deck passengers, or Garrick, 
 haughtily alone, in his solitary walk up and down the cabin. There 
 was a caustic, sad smile on her face. 
 
 " His brain is cobwebbed with as many musty traditions as 
 Dugdale itself," glancing down at the old book on her 7 ap. 
 
 Yet what would be the end of shutting up together this man 
 and woman, young, with strong, groping instincts, ambitious pur 
 poses? On a boat, too, where the very drifting, drifting, the slow 
 floating out of night into dawn, through day into night, would 
 
60 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 subtly suggest a longer and a closer journey? The Quakeress 
 sincere eyes became wells of anxious trouble. Ross seemed to her 
 always, a child, whose soul she had in keeping. 
 
 "What does he know of the girl, except that her eyes are limpid 
 and her hair golden in the sun ? There is antipathy between them, 
 in their habits, their birth, in the teaching of every day of their 
 lives. God set them apart, in the hour when He breathed life into 
 their nostrils. If they form a marriage on the basis of golden hair 
 and tender eyes, they will find the truth when it is too late." 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 IN THE HOUSE OF THE SURGEON. 
 
 " BUT, my dear Miss Conrad, the man gambles ! " 
 
 " That is probable." 
 
 " There is no such desperate play in Philadelphia as at Doctor 
 Broderip s petit soupers" 
 
 " But the suppers ? " 
 
 Mrs. Ottley shrugged her faded eyebrows. "How should I 
 know ? Women are barred out. They are too tame a sauce to sea 
 son his ragout. The suppers are perfection, I dare say ; I have the 
 word of the town for it. The town keeps its eyes on him and his 
 doings. That is the reason why I am annoyed that you went to 
 him so openly. If you had employed a third person me, for 
 instance " 
 
 Miss Conrad placidly buttoned her glove. 
 
 " He is a scoffer at all religion ; he never enjoys his own bitter 
 wit except when he is sneering at things pure and holy." The 
 lady s little hands were lifted, her little flounces rustled indignantly, 
 and her faded little face reddened. Miss Conrad was adjusting her 
 shawl as if she had not heard her. 
 
 " Let me urge you not to go. His turf-horses " 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Ottley, I carried a betting-book to a course when I 
 was but ten years old. If the man have the skill in his fingers for 
 which he has credit, what does it matter to me, after I have used it, 
 whether he throws dice, or tinkles a guitar with them ? " 
 
 " Oh, nobody questions his skill. It is scarcely two years since 
 he came here from New York, and his operations have been won 
 derful as miracles ; but " She stopped. 
 
 " That is all that I care to know." 
 
 " Nothing of the quack either, Mr. Ottley says ; he rules himself 
 within the strictest etiquette of the profession. But," she low 
 ered her voice, " what do you say of a man who refuses to practise 
 when the whim seizes him ? who will turn away from the bedside 
 of a wretched cripple with a coarse joke about the disease being 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 61 
 
 the only part worth scrutiny, and that the sooner such candles were 
 snuffed out, the better ? Who is he, to give life, or refuse it, accord 
 ing to his prejudice?" 
 
 Miss Conrad, as usual, was imperturbable. 
 
 " The man, as a man, is nothing to me. I have put great hopes 
 in him as an oculist. It is so long since this film has been growing 
 in Mr. Conrad s eyes we have tried so many different physicians 
 I had hoped that this Doctor Broderip " 
 
 Mrs. Ottley leaned forward, surprised and curious, from her sofa. 
 She fancied that Margaret s face grew paler, talking of her father, 
 and emotion might as soon be looked for in a machine of wood. 
 
 " Dear child ! dear child ! I can understand what a loss it is to 
 you both ! Though your father is no longer a young man , it ia 
 time to look for the decay of his faculties. Let me see ! Mr. Ottley 
 first knew your father in 39. What a mercy, my dear girl, by 
 the way, that Mr. Conrad never married again ? " 
 
 Miss Conrad s gray eyes were cool and on guard, though they 
 never turned toward her hostess. 
 
 " How can I tell that ? " with a dogged simplicity. 
 
 The lady changed her ground quickly, recovering herself with 
 ease, finding her foot upon her native heath of gossip. 
 
 " Mr. Ottley could tell you tales of Doctor Broderip s extortion, 
 if he pleased. There is a great outcry of praise about his free hos 
 pitals, but his wealthy patients pay for them, I can assure you. I 
 have heard Mr. Ottley himself tell him that his hands were as merci 
 less as the devil s, when he had a fat fowl to pluck. That was only a 
 man s way of talking, you know, my dear. But he only returned 
 one of his grim, cunning smiles. His look quite makes me shudder. 
 I always think what if I were lying mangled, fastened to a board, 
 with that little, hard, cruel face over me, and a knife in his hand. 
 Did not it quite make you shudder, Miss Conrad ? " 
 
 Margaret paused a moment, thinking. "! believe that I do not 
 remember his face at all," she said, slowly. " Our interview was 
 very short. There was an ante-room full of patients waiting, and 
 I was not thinking of hie looks. I was anxious " 
 
 Again the sudden stop, and this time Mrs. Ottley saw her put hea 
 hand up to her throat. She spoke to her, but Margaret did not 
 answer. 
 
 The little lady fluttered to her fernery in the window, turning 
 her back that she might not see the girl s distress. " Poor child ! " 
 she said, under her breath. 
 
 " It is so long since his sight left him," Miss Conrad said, con 
 trolling her voice. " And I feel as if to-day would be the decisive 
 end of it all. It will all be decided to-day." 
 
 Mrs. Ottley, looking back at her furtively, saw her head bent, and 
 her eyes fixed on the floor. 
 

 62 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " I had not thought, Margaret," she said, gently, " how much 
 this man s opinion would matter to you, or I would not have retailed 
 the town gossip about him." 
 
 " Yes, it does matter. One physician after another has referred 
 us to him as the highest authority on that peculiar disease ; and. 
 whatever his sentence may be, I will accept it as final. If we could 
 have come to him sooner But Mr. Conrad had heard the stories 
 you tell of his extortion. That was why the meeting between them 
 had to be managed, even now, by a trick." 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 Miss Conrad looked at her watch. " We shall be late," she said, 
 going to the door opening into the little breakfast room where 
 lunch was spread. Her father, who had no mind to be cheated out 
 of old habits, always made his dinner of that meal. He was 
 munching his last bit of cheese, and talking vigorously and loudly 
 to Mr. Ottley, who sat playing with his fork, and laughing. The 
 two men were excellent chums together. They had been boys in a 
 surveyor s corps together on the western frontier, and had an in 
 exhaustible fund of stories in common about Indian hunts, and 
 mounds, and tricks. They had just finished recalling one of these 
 reminiscences of unusually strong flavor, when Margaret came in, 
 and stood with her hand on the back of her father s chair. 
 
 " Mr. Conrad will be late," with a significant look to her host. 
 " Come, Hugh, dear." 
 
 " Yes, Meg, yes. Well, well ! " with a gruff, racy chuckle, " I 
 never heard that story before, Ottley. But them Chippewas were 
 genooine snakes, to be sure ! I ve had considerable insight into 
 human nature, and I always said, For sheer deviltry, give me a 
 red-skin ; for apple-jack or deviltry, give me a red-skin. " 
 
 " It is half education," said Mr. Ottley, laying down his napkin. 
 
 " Well yes. Now there s yourself," leaning on his elbows on 
 the table, his coarse, high-featured face twinkling with humor. 
 " There never was two gawkier boys than you and me, Brooks ; 
 we was rough-conditioned throughout. I often think what thirty 
 years has done to us. Here are you ; you ve got a dumpling, con 
 tented little body in a snugly-feathered nest, and all that you ve 
 learned in these thirty years is packed safe in your brain, and looking 
 out of them keen, little black eyes of yours ; you ve got your 
 operas, and your old portraits, and your marbles. And here am I. 
 Now them saplins was alike, Ottley, in peth and rind. It s the sile 
 that has altered them it s only the sile." 
 
 " It was a strong, marly soil, then, that gave you your pith, 
 Hugh," said Ottley, suddenly, with an admiring look at the old 
 man s rough-hewn face. Margaret nodded over her father s head 
 to him, quick and pleased, a blush coming up through her thick, 
 white skin, which no lover s words had ever been able to stir there. 
 
WAITING FOU THE VERDICT. 63 
 
 But the old Methodist, fluent enough to talk of others, was modest 
 as a girl about himself. 
 
 " Yes, I m tough," dryly. " We re a long-lived stock. There 
 was my father and his four brothers, now. They lived until the 
 sap dried up in them ; they used to Imind me of wood hardened 
 into iron, them men. As for their opinions well, the idees they 
 got from their mother along with their bones, them they died with, 
 unaltered. I couldn t fancy them men mouldering, even in their 
 coffins." 
 
 " I shouldn t call you an obstinate man, Conrad," as they pushed 
 their chairs back, and got up. 
 
 " I don t know. My mother s blood might tell in me. The Ran 
 dalls were all loose-j inted. But Meg here, now, she s her grand 
 father through and through. Meg s pethy." 
 
 She began to adjust the wisps of gray hair on either side of hi? 
 face, and retied his cravat, managing to reach it with ease, as she was 
 a tall woman, and he, short and broadly built. 
 
 " She s putting on the halter, you see, Brooks. I intended to go 
 down to court with you, but she has heard of a bidder for that 
 tract near Dubuque, and made an appointment for me with him this 
 afternoon." 
 
 Mr. Ottley s fat, good-humored face grew anxious. 
 
 " I must hear the result, Miss Conrad," meaningly. " You will 
 come back ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It is a matter of no moment. I don t care to sell. Eh ! What 
 are you doing, child ? " as she drew off the spectacles that concealed 
 his half-closed eyes, and put them in their case. 
 
 " I like it best so, Hugh. Let me have my way." 
 
 His whole face had contracted painfully. " You shall have your 
 way, Margaret, always. But I wanted them hid ; I did not wish 
 to be an object of loathing to the passers-by," in an undertone. 
 She turned sharply, and laid the palms of her hands on the sight 
 less eyes. This very slight gesture from the stoical woman touched 
 Ottley to the heart : it was as if she gathered the rough, helpless 
 man into her very soul ; put herself forever between him and all 
 hurt. Conrad noticed it only by a change in color. 
 
 " You must not go out to your little lodge, to-night," urged 
 Ottley. " There are two or three men coming to dine with us 
 whom I wish you to meet, Conrad," thinking that they might rel 
 ish, as he did, the old preacher s stories, as they would a mouthful 
 of heavy tart cider among dry, light wines. 
 
 Conrad hesitated. " &o. Brooks, I think not. I don t meet 
 strangers as I used. I m suspicious or peevish, as I was with Meg 
 just now. It s this," touching his eyes with thumb and finger. 
 "You can t understand, Ottley, what it is to have one of y-.T.i 
 
64 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 senses gone how it galls. It puts me in mind of a trick we had 
 out in the backwoods, of leaning a hickory twig loosely against a 
 pine. The big tree always began to rot from that little pint. I 
 just fancy old Death now leaning out of the other place with his 
 staff touchin the one spot in my body. He s entered an appear 
 ance, eh ? as you lawyers would put it," with a chuckle. 
 
 " I would not nurse such morbid fancies," said Ottley, as they 
 shook hands. 
 
 " Morbid ? As weaj: as a hysteric, sickly woman s ! I know it." 
 He heard Mrs. Ottley s dress rustle, and went forward to bid her 
 good-by, standing in the doorway with his felt hat in both his 
 hands, as she talked to him. Even with his eyes closed, the high- 
 cheek bones, and curve of the strong jaws gave to his pale face the 
 ; sagacity and keenness of a watch-dog s. He was a favorite with the 
 little lady, as with all women : there was a quizzical gentleness in 
 his manner to them as if they were little children. The truth is, 
 they were so to him ; all women, alike ; beautiful, and innocent as 
 children. 
 
 " You are going to consult Doctor Broderip ? " she asked, in spite 
 of her husband s frowns and nods. 
 
 " No, madam, I fear not. I thought of it. But I cannot afford to 
 waste them few dollars I d laid by for Meg, now that I can t work 
 to replace them. It was the last chance. But it was only a chance, 
 after, all." 
 
 "Well, good-by, and God bless you!" said Ottley, hurrying 
 them away from his wife out to the carriage in waiting. 
 
 " Good-by," said Mrs. Ottley. The God-bless-you stuck in her 
 throat : it was a thin throat, covered with frippery, not used to 
 weighty utterances : but she meant it. 
 
 Mr. Conrad gave himself up to a nap when they were seated, 
 bidding Margaret waken him before they came to the house. She 
 sat looking out at the houses and people on the sidewalks, remem 
 bering how her father had planned this journey for them both since 
 she was a child. She could remember sitting on his knee by the 
 hour to hear him tell of the adventures which were to befall them, 
 when they came East, to the great cities. The thronged streets, 
 the windows heaped with jewels and sheeny silks, the glitter of the 
 fountains, the music, the trained birds, spangled Harlequin and 
 Columbine : he had crowded them all together to make an actual 
 fairy land for her. 
 
 They were here now, and the fairy land had resolved itself into 
 the dull platitudes of the streets of this overgrown village ; into 
 one dreary surgeon s ante-room after another, where she sat, while 
 his eyes had been burned and lanced, rousing no trace of pain on 
 his sallow, set face. 
 
 He asked no questions about the new scenes around him; his 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 65 
 
 jokes, his anecdotes bore, unusually, the peculiar flavor of his 
 camping-grounds out West ; she fancied that some unexpressed 
 feeling growing out of his blindness kept him silent ; for, but a year or 
 two ago, he had come back from a week s visit to Ottley exhila 
 rated as a boy, with the suggestive iffe and ideas into which he had 
 been plunged ; sorting and combating them with his own. Every 
 new sight or word had been like a nut then kept for him to crack 
 and enjoy during the Winter that followed, in the evenings with 
 Margaret, bringing some kernel of sound common sense out of each. 
 
 But, on this visit, he left his boarding-house only for the surgeon s 
 room ; listened in silence, if Margaret spoke, which she rarely did, 
 of the concerts or picture galleries to which they took her ; avoided 
 as much as was compatible with his old-fashioned courtesy, the in 
 vitations of Mr. Ottley or his set. 
 
 Now, all this was not natural to his wholesome, hearty tempera 
 ment : she knew that. What if Death had touched him in the loss 
 of that one sense? "The big tree began to rot from that little 
 point." She had noted those words, to-day, echoing an older fear. 
 
 As soon as this fancy first came to her, about three weeks before, she 
 had gone to actual driving work, according to her habit; had in 
 duced him to rent a small farm on the railroad running through the 
 valley of the Schuylkill. She had suggested to him how much 
 might be done among the colliers near by ; brought him in contact 
 with some members of the Conference. He had pricked his ears like 
 a war-horse scenting the battle ; it was hardly a month ago, but 
 already he had established prayer meetings, a class, Sunday visita 
 tions to the jail and alms-house, and a promising quarrel with 
 John Berkett, who was Presiding Elder, on the question of personal 
 sanctification. So far as revivals went, Mr. Conrad was a Methodist 
 of the Methodists. He had taken Ottley to one on the last Sunday, 
 and while the lawyer s half closed black eyes surveyed the audience, 
 hiding a polite sneer, Conrad had listened to the mingled prayers, 
 hymns, and screams with a grim, sympathetic smile. 
 
 The farm, too, filled their hands with work, though they only in 
 tended to occupy it for one year: there was a basket of new tools, 
 and papers of seeds in the bottom of the hack now. 
 
 Farm, and alms-houses and desultory preaching, however, were 
 but makeshifts for his old active life with the people of his bish 
 opric, as he called the bounds of his itinerancy ; where for forty 
 years he had lived among them as stock-raiser and preacher : there 
 w:is not a child in the circuit who did not know his keen, sallow 
 face. A poor makeshift : she knew that, as he did. 
 
 It began to rain as they drove over the cobble stones ; the shops 
 
 took in their cheerful, gaudy drapery and the gas began to shine 
 
 from their dingy recesses, the gutters splashed mud, the drops fell 
 
 like dull weeping on the carriage windows and ran, trickling, down. 
 
 5 
 

 66 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Margaret Conrad bent forward, her elbow on her knee, her steady 
 gray eyes looking up at the sleeping man beside her. Her brain 
 was crowded full of plans, hurrying eagerly forward, to fill up the 
 gap in his life, if this last chance failed. She could so stand be 
 tween him and the world, that he would never know the loss of his 
 sight. She never over or undervalued herself, but she felt her own 
 full strength, to-day, in will, in the very tension of her powerful 
 muscles : she believed if Death himself were coming to this old 
 man beside her, she could hold him back, keep him off. There was 
 no emotion in her face : the pulses in her thick, white throat, and firm 
 wrist were even and full, but she stooped until her face rubbed on 
 the brawny, hairy hand flattened on his knee, thinking of the years 
 when she had gone to sleep every night, hugging it, in her little 
 crib. It was the caress of a dog or some animal, dumb until death 
 to utter its love. 
 
 They turned into Broad street; in the northern part of which 
 Doctor Broderip lived. She looked out at the steep manufactories 
 swarming with human life, at the gaping depots, the rushing trains 
 sweeping to and fro within: then the great boulevard opened be 
 yond between a phalanx of stately dwellings, differing from the dull 
 rank and file of Philadelphia houses, in that each looked down into 
 the broad, miry street with /a separate, independent life of its own, N ; 
 often full of suggestive beauty in color and outline. But the wide 
 road, and rows of leafless trees and dwellings were but faintly 
 sketched through the wet Indian-inky air, as a half-faded photo 
 graph. 
 
 She saw, at the end of a square, the heavy brown house of the 
 surgeon, surrounded by wide gardens, stables, hot-houses ; in half 
 an hour she would know all : her father s life and her own would be 
 mapped out. Any other woman would have shivered from cold, 
 and, perhaps, begun to cry. Miss Conrad sat erect, and touched her 
 father s shoulder to waken him. Something in his face when sleep 
 ing would have told you that he was blind : he suffered nothing to 
 betray it when awake. She paused, thinking how many people 
 thought he was callous to his loss. She knew the keen zest for 
 physical life in every nerve and bone of him: she knew what a 
 savage wrench of pain the loss had cost him, conceal it under what 
 good-humored joke he would. He was an Indian in stoicism ; but 
 he was ai Indian in his relish for the use of sight and smell, and 
 palate, also, to tell it all. The blood of his youth had been rank 
 and violent, she had heard ; there was no decay in him now. He 
 had nearly reached the age when life is ordinarily a burden : but 
 lie could preach his three sermons a week, walk his ten miles, and 
 aw a load of wood with any man. The boys who served under 
 him (for he had gone out under the first year s call), boasted that 
 be had the nose of a pointer, and the eye of a hawk: in his Confer- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 67 
 
 ence he was put forward as their most powerful, resolute debater; 
 "one of God s own bull-dogs" they called him. 
 
 She remembered all this, suddenly, when she wakened him, and 
 he started up pulling his hat over his eyes, instead of turning to the 
 light. It never before came to her so clearly, all that it had cost 
 him to sit down in the middle of his journey, forever in the dark, 
 with hands and feet tied. 
 
 There was a crowd of liveried coachmen about the iron railings 
 in front of the garden ; the carriages waited, empty, in the street ; 
 their hack stopped, and Miss Conrad led her father up the narrow 
 walk. 
 
 The ante-room into which they passed out of, the mud and rain, 
 opened to them like a bit of Summer ; the light came warm and 
 tinted through stained windows on the snowy India matting and 
 light cane furniture ; there were ivy and orchidaB drooping from 
 the delicate panelling on the walls, feathery mosses trailing over the 
 windows; one side of the room opened through sliding doors into a 
 conservatory, where beds rose over beds of field grasses and brilliant 
 flowers. A bright-eyed, graceful dog lay dozing on a crimson mat, 
 some birds chirped and pecked at a plate of fruit, the very atmos 
 phere was bright and perfumed as with a gale of health. Inside 
 was a larger apartment in which half-a-dozen women, apparently 
 attendants upon patients, waited. Beyond, extending through the 
 entire left wing of the building, were the private operating rooms ; 
 the doors between them were, however, jealously closed. 
 
 Mr. Conrad turned his head quickly from side to side. " It is 
 like a June day. That is the twit of a finch, do you hear, Meg ? 
 There are sweet peas and vernal grass ; we have no such smell in 
 our western fields. What kind of man is this bidder of yours ? 
 Where is the dog ? " sharply, without waiting for an answer, turn 
 ing his face, pointer-like, as his keen scent stood in lieu of sight to 
 him. 
 
 " Here ! " holding out his hand, which the dog instantly obeyed. 
 It s a thoroughbred pointer," passing his hand over its jaws. 
 
 Miss Conrad answered at random. She was listening to the 
 carriages, as after slow delay, they rolled away one by one, the 
 group in the waiting-room growing gradually less. 
 
 They were all gone at last. The afternoon had crept on toward 
 evening. Her father sat silent, playing with the dog. She could 
 perceive the gathering twilight and storm without by the heavier 
 shadows through the artificial bloom and heat ; a door at last from 
 one of the furthest operating rooms opened, and the small, insig 
 nificant figure of a man in gray entered and came quickly toward 
 them. 
 
 He bowed to Miss Conrad, and seated himself in front of her 
 father, dexterously contriving that the light should fall directly on 
 the old man s half-shut, unsheltered eyes. 
 
68 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " I have detained you tediously ; I beg pardon," in a sharp, 
 business-like tone. " But our little matter does not require long 
 consideration. I have invested largely, heretofore, in Western 
 lands, and always with success. What is this tract you have to 
 sell ? " 
 
 " I reckon you ve bought on speculation, before ? " leisurely lean 
 ing back with his thumbs in his waistcoat sleeve-holes. " Mining 
 or oil claims, it s probable ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 V Then mine will not suit you," gruffly. " It is only arable land. 
 I hold it at its maximum value. I ll not deceive you. I kept it 
 only for my horses." 
 
 The surgeon had been bending slightly forward, his light, hazel 
 eyes fixed on the sightless ones before him ; but he sat up at this, 
 saying, dogmatically, 
 
 " Unless your horses were mere roadsters, that herbage was too 
 succulent. Any turf horse would grow flabby on it." 
 
 " For turf horses, I grant you," said Conrad, eagerly. " But I 
 would use that Western grass as I would the warm blood of the 
 Justin Morgans to temper cold, roomy Canadian or Norman 
 breeds, eh ? " 
 
 " Morgan ? " with a sneer. " A second-rate, doubtful strain of 
 blood, do what you Avill with it. It is in keeping with the American 
 character this outcry for its inferior flash merit. It is driving all 
 thoroughbreds to the wall." 
 
 " I know it, sir ! I know it ! " eagerly. " But what can I do ? 
 Time was, that my word carried weight in any training-ground in 
 Kentucky ; but I m only on the circuit now, and " He half raised 
 his hand to his eyes, and let it fall. "Besides, in Ohio and Iowa, 
 except some drops of old Sir Archy s blood, the stables are in a 
 poor condition." 
 
 " Kentucky ? There was a horse in Kentucky in 55 Henry 
 Perritt " 
 
 " A three-year old ! I know ! Beat Lexington s time in a two : 
 mile heat. Well, sir, he w T as ridden to death on the Metairie course. 
 I owned a colt myself one of the Timoleon stock that promised 
 as fair as Perritt, but he was lamed in the cars." 
 
 Uninsured?" 
 
 " Yes. But it was not the money loss I cared for," his face 
 flushing purple. " I was a small better ; but to see them two 
 creeturs of mine that was as dear to me then as Meg is now 
 come in, winners, to the starting post, their eyes flashing, their 
 nerves quivering ! It s worth livin for a minit like that ! " 
 
 " I have some stock I d like to show you," said the surgeon, 
 rising suddenly. " There are very few men that I admit to my 
 stables, but" 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 69 
 
 Conrad got up eagerly. " You may trust me, sir, you may trust 
 me," with a quick, cordial laugh. " I m more akin to the hosses 
 than to most men I see. My hat, Margaret, my hat ! " 
 
 The little surgeon buttoned his -long-skirted gray coat about his 
 spare figure, while Miss Conrad, laying her muff aside, brought his 
 hickory stick and hat to her father. He thrust the gloves which 
 were in the crown into his pocket, muttering something about 
 " rubbish," then, striking his palms together, 
 
 " Well, sir, well ! I m ready ! I ve not seen a decent bit of horse 
 flesh since I came here. They say there are some pretty trotters 
 down on the Point Breeze course, but my eyes are in my finger-ends 
 now. I must touch them to know. How far is it ?" 
 
 " But a step, and under cover." 
 
 Miss Conrad for the first time was scanning the celebrated sur 
 geon with her opaque, gray eyes as he stood drawing a flesh-colored 
 pair of gloves on his delicate hands. It was an insignificant, slight- 
 featured face. " Cruel and hard ? " She could hardly call it that, 
 and yet The confusing, hazel eyes suddenly turned on her ; she 
 was doubly perplexed. 
 
 Whatever he might be outside of his stables, so far as they were 
 concerned, he was eager and childish as her father, she saw. The 
 two men had struck fire on one point of contact ; both their faces 
 were heated. 
 
 " You will not find it dull to wait for us here ? " Doctor Broderip 
 said, gravely bowing to Margaret. 
 
 " Meg could not go with us ? " ventured the old man. 
 
 " I would prefer she should not." 
 
 He gave no reason, and the tone was peevish and sharp. 
 
 " Surely ! surely ! But she s a capital eye for a horse, Meg has," 
 as they went out through the conservatory. " She finds more music 
 in the neigh of one than in all your opera tin-tink-ling." 
 
 There was a small door at the back of the conservatory, leading 
 into a narrow passage which ended in the stables. The surgeon 
 paused at the entrance. Old Conrad had pulled out a thick cigar 
 and was proceeding to light it. Broderip touched it impatiently 
 with his finger. " Not until we are clear of the stables, if you 
 please. My house is at your service to smoke in, but the horses do 
 not like it." 
 
 Conrad laughed, good humoredly. " You ve the right feeling for 
 them the right feeling. You never use tobacco, I know," turning 
 euddenly. 
 
 " No. How did you know it ? " 
 
 " Well, now," said Conrad, crumbling his cigar and letting it fall, 
 " it was curous how I knowed that. It was by my hearing. I 
 knowed that by your voice." 
 
 Broderip made no reply. He stood with the key fitted in the 
 
70 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 lock, looking back over his shoulder, the anxious, irritable look on 
 his face with which a sensitive woman sees a finger laid on the habits 
 or whims behind which she hides. 
 
 " I knowed it by your voice," in his lazy, amused ton<e. " It s a 
 pecoolar voice, did you know ? " turning his sagacious, blind face 
 down toward the smaller man. " The minit you spq&e I noticed 
 it. It s sharp and wiry, but there s a deal hid -under that I 
 wouldn t like to say what. I never heerd but one Mke it. When 
 you came in to-night I said to myself that s John Pritchard s 
 double." 
 
 " What sort of man was my double ? " the key turning in the 
 lock. 
 
 " If you can imagine a feller miserably poor, with an inordinate 
 hungry brain, and the nerves and longings of a woman, and no self- 
 confidence to cover them, going about, stung and bruised at every 
 turn, cut to the quick by every chance word 
 
 " Enough ! enough ! " laughed the surgeon. " Your spectre is 
 ghastly. My ghost even would have a heartier look, I fancy. 
 Here are the horses." 
 
 " But tobacco affects you as it did him, I ll wager," insisted Con 
 rad, doggedly. " He dared not use any stimulant ; it was like 
 setting fire to veins filled with spirit." 
 
 " What became of Pritchard ? " said the surgeon, carelessly, as 
 with his hand on the old man s elbow he guided him between the 
 stalls. 
 
 " Of John, eh ? John ? Well, now, do you know, the feeling 
 on me is so strong of your likeness to him that I d rather not tell 
 you the end of that man. I m a superstitious old fogy, maybe ; 
 but it would be like holding up a picture of your own death, it 
 seems to me." 
 
 "As you will," laughing again ; but the heartiness had gone out 
 of the laugh. " Here are the horses." 
 
 It needed but a moment to drive all superstitious fancies from 
 old Conrad s brain. The stables were high and wide, daintily kept 
 as a lady s boudoir. There were trifles, showing a jealous care for 
 the comfort of the animals, such as many men do not give to their 
 wives. 
 
 Mr. Conrad had his coat collar thrown back his shirt sleeves 
 pushed up, and was passing his hands rapidly over the horses, 
 giving vent at intervals to grunts of doubt or pleasure. 
 
 " Bay, this filly is, eh ? How about the color of the legs ? I 
 put a good deal of stress on the color of the legs. Blazed with 
 white? Bad! bad!" 
 
 " Now, this," said the surgeon, bringing him to a stall set apart, 
 in which stood a chestnut colt, " this colt I bought last June. It 
 belonged to one of the Petries, of Louisiana. The fellow thought 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 71 
 
 that its cannon-bone as iirured," with a clmckle. "He gave half 
 a dozen likely negroes for it two months before. That colt cost 
 me, sir, just one-third of its value." The repeated derisive chuckle 
 was distasteful to the old preacher s coarse-grained sense of honor : 
 he pulled his hat on roughly, but said nothing. "I ve his pedigree 
 back to the Byerly Turk. Feel his back," triumphantly pointing 
 to a protuberance behind the shoulders. 
 
 " It s the Bedford hump ! " exclaimed Conrad, his annoyance for 
 gotten. " Eclipse and Black Maria had it. Ah, ah ! This is the 
 breed, sir!" and then followed the usual jargon of clean withers, 
 keen muzzle, broad bellows room, etc. 
 
 " So, so, my beauty ! A nutty brown, hey? There s no coarse 
 hairs here," sliding a critical finger down the back-bone. " Satiny 
 and cool. I ll wager, now, that colt has an eye in his head as bril 
 liant and innocent as any woman s." 
 
 The surgeon drew the silky, thin mane through his fingers once 
 or twice, then he led the colt back into its stall. " As a woman s ? 
 I d be sorry if his ideas were not cleaner and honester than women s 
 as I know them. I saw one woman, lately," after a pause, as he 
 adjusted a loose bed of straw, near to the horse, " who put me in 
 mind of Prince Hal, here : I never saw but the one. She might be 
 vicious in temper, but she was as sensitive, as honest, and as game; 
 as loyal, too," joining Conrad, and keeping his eye fixed on his face to 
 see the eifect of his words. " If that woman once cared for a man she 
 would run her race, without wincing, to serve his interest or pride, 
 until she fell dead under the spur, as a thoroughbred w^ill do." 
 
 " I could almost think I knew the woman you mean," said Conrad, 
 carelessly. " Shall we go in ? I m obleeged to you," touching his 
 hat with his old-fashioned politeness, "for showing me that colt. 
 A new horse is like a new friend to me. Why, sir, I ve a mare that 
 I ride on circuit at home, and do you know, that from the day my 
 sight left me, that creetur approached me differently? She knovved. 
 When I can see again, I think I ll tell the good news first to old 
 Jin ; after Meg." 
 
 The surgeon had stopped, leaning against the wall, playing with 
 a halter that hung there ; he looked in a furtive, side-long way at 
 the old man, a queer, half-subdued emotion on his face. 
 
 " Mr. Conrad," he said, with a sudden change in his voice, " I 
 did not bring you here to look at the horses, altogether ; I had an 
 other matter to talk of; a secret, in fact, not of my own, but your 
 daughter s." He hurried on without noticing the old man s startled 
 exclamation. 
 
 "I am a surgeon, brought necessarily in contact with the dis 
 eased, in temperament, as well as body, and I have made it a rule 
 to shun all secrecy or deception with patients : as I would a diet of 
 false stimulants. Blunt words and sharp knives, I tell my pupils. 
 
72 WAITING FOU THE VERDICT. 
 
 Conrad was silent a moment, turning his hat in a perplexed, un 
 certain way. " A surgeon, eh ? That s a good rule for a surgeon 
 or any man. But Meg ? I don t comprehend you." 
 
 " My name is Broderip." 
 
 " Broderip ? And a surgeon ! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "I understand," with a change of color, pulling his gray whiskers, 
 uncertainly. "Margaret consulted you ?" 
 
 "About two weeks ago she called on me." 
 
 " Poor Meg ! " still stroking the bushy beard. The heat had 
 gone out of his pale, high-featured face, and he kept the diseased 
 eyes tightly shut. " Poor Meg," he said again, with a short, un 
 easy laugh. 
 
 "It is just two weeks since Miss Conrad first came to me," said 
 Doctor Broderip, in the same subdued voice, still playing idly with 
 the halter, and looking at it. " She came in the morning, early in 
 the morning I always take note of the hour when I first meet a 
 person ; it has its meaning it has its meaning." 
 
 " Eh ? I beg pardon," anxiously. " You speak low." 
 
 The surgeon looked up. " Your daughter gave me," in a sud 
 denly sharp, business-like tone, " a clear diagnosis of the case re 
 markably clear for a woman ; she told me that you had refused to 
 consult me, because " 
 
 Conrad turned quickly. " You need not hesitate. I had not the 
 means. Poverty is no disgrace." 
 
 The little man shrugged his narrow shoulders, and made a 
 grimace, but Conrad saw neither. If Broderip s greedy extortion 
 when a rich patient fell into his clutches, was as surely reckoned on 
 in the city, as the skill and keenness of his scalpel, it was a trait of 
 which he evidently was not ashamed. 
 
 " Miss Conrad s suggestion," he resumed, " was, that I should see 
 you under cover of some assumed business, and so decide upon the 
 chance of relief. I saw you to-day at her desire." 
 
 " My girl did not know, Doctor Broderip," standing stiff as a 
 corporal, " the favor she asked, when she planned an opinion from 
 you, clandestine-like. She s fond of her father beyond the com 
 mon ; and she don t stop for anything where he s concerned. 
 We ve been intimate, Meg and me, as if she was a young man. 
 I m obleeged that you humored her, Doctor Broderip." 
 
 " I humored her yes," with an odd smile. 
 
 There was a long silence after this. The old man drew himself 
 erect, his broad shoulders growing heavy to him, his hands clasped 
 behind him, his face straight forward like a grenadier waiting for 
 the death shot or pardon. 
 
 Broderip, hearing his heavy breathing, lifted his sallow little 
 face slowly from the strip of leather which he lazily twisted in 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 73 
 
 coils at his feet, a half-pitiful smile on his thin li|>s ; he watched \ he 
 old man turn toward him restlessly again and again, but he did not 
 speak. 
 
 " You have decided on my case, then ? " said Conrad, at last, in a 
 guttural voice. 
 
 " It needed but a glance to do that, Mr. Conrad," in as gentle 
 and tender a tone as he would use to a child. 
 
 The old man did not speak for a moment. " You have there 
 no chance for me ? " 
 
 " None." 
 
 Conrad turned, and suddenly w r alked down the stable between the 
 stalls to a narrow window. He put out one groping hand, holding 
 it straight before him, and stood motionless there, his back toward 
 Broderip, who looked compassionately after him for a moment, and 
 then hung the bridle up, carefully polishing an embos f sed bit of silver 
 witli his glove. He waited patiently till the old man came back, his 
 face composed, but pale, speaking in an exaggerated, loud tone. 
 Broderip s, on the contrary, was curiously gentle. 
 
 " There s a sharp wind outside. It yells like as if twas off sea." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Does Meg know of the end of it ? " 
 
 "No. How could she?" 
 
 " Sure enough. I wonder what what she ll say ? There s a long 
 road for her and me to travel together now." 
 
 Doctor Broderip hesitated. " What if you spared her for a little 
 while longer? A woman can bear any pain if you give her time 
 for breath. Let me treat for a short time with you for your 
 land" 
 
 Conrad threw out his hand. " No ; I couldn t act it out. Let 
 me go home now. I ll tell her when I ve had a minit to think it 
 over. And then we ll never speak of it agin. That s the way with 
 Meg when anything hurts her." 
 
 He walked past the little man to the door, and then recollecting 
 himself, turned with a cordial smile, holding out his hand. " I m a 
 rude old hoosier. Another time I ll thank you for your hospitality, 
 and" 
 
 Broderip interrupted him, with a slight color marked in his sal 
 low cheek. "There was one matter, part of Miss Conrad s plan, 
 which I should mention," hesitating. 
 
 Conrad turned, attentive. 
 
 " She spoke," said the surgeon, with an amused laugh, " of a fee. 
 I think she had some dread of my claims in that particular. She 
 had an idea of making over some property of her own unknown to 
 you." 
 
 Conrad rubbed his hands softly together, but did not speak. 
 
 "There is no fee, now. No ! " lifting his hand with the irritated 
 
74 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 pettishness of a child. " There was no cure. That is ray rule. Do 
 not interrupt me, if you please. But when your daughter left my 
 ante-room, she dropped an ornament that she wore, a peculiar little 
 bracelet. I have it here." He held something in his hand as he 
 spoke, glancing at it furtively. " It suited the hour in the morning 
 at which she came, it suited her, or my idea about her, and her er 
 rand. I would like to beg it of her. It did so fit in with my whim 
 of the moment when I saw her, that it would be of more absolute 
 value to me than that land of hers in Kentucky. I am full of 
 whims," with a boyish laugh. 
 
 Conrad s shrewd face was bent toward him with as keen a scru 
 tiny on it as though he yet could see. 
 
 " I understand you. You don t want to leave the obligation on 
 us. It s a delicate thing to do that." 
 
 " You do me more than justice. It is a pretty toy " turning it 
 over and over in his hand, abstractedly. 
 
 It might have been a charm, by the curious change which it 
 worked on his pale, insignificant face.) It grew, slowly, fine-nerved 
 and wistful as a woman s, the protritding forehead lowered, a rare, 
 subtle intellect looked out of the hazel eyes, which were usually 
 but a shining, confusing mask; the mouth moved, irritable and 
 tender. 
 
 " Keep the bracelet, surely," said Conrad. " Poor Meg has no 
 jewels, but it may remind you of the time when the way in which 
 you gave a favor was kinder than the kindness itself. I ll reckelect 
 it after you do, I know." 
 
 " I ll beo- it of her when I know her better. It s a delicate little 
 
 o 
 
 toy," said Broderip again, letting it drop slowly over his fingers, in 
 the twilight, the curious smile deepening, and driving the habitual 
 lower from his face. 
 
 The bauble was but a string of rose-colored shells, linked with 
 gold, but as they caught the dull light, they broke and increased it 
 in their delicate pink curves a thousand times, until Broderip coiled 
 up the chain carefully as though it were one of the old talismans 
 of the genii which for him who possessed it would turn all things 
 to gold. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 COYLE RANDOLPH S WILL. 
 
 BIGAIL BLANCHARD 
 
 determined to remain on 
 the boat while it made its 
 uncertain way up the 
 Ohio, in preference to 
 travelling by railroad. 
 
 They were long, cold, 
 drowsy days which fol 
 lowed. The air was heavy 
 with the gathering De 
 cember snows ; the sky 
 overhead was opaque and 
 gray. The little stern- 
 wheel, Messenger, plough 
 ed herself a path but 
 slowly through the masses 
 of mud and ice which 
 choked the broad, sluggish 
 river. 
 
 The old lady and Ross- 
 lyn found a cosy cor 
 ner for themselves every 
 day on deck, where, 
 cloaked and hooded, they could see the yellow foam which curdled 
 out into the water as they floated along ; or above that, where the 
 pearly twilight and the soft glimmer and sparkle of the falling 
 snow filled the air to the very ends of the earth. Low, sullen 
 hills crouched along shore; between them there were glimpses 
 of open, rolling slopes of wood and pasture, white and silent in the 
 snow, or of stern mountain peaks, with the gray smoke from the 
 farm-houses at their base, blown and drifted across their sides. 
 But it was all dumb, dim, white, and phantasmal as a country seen 
 in sleep. 
 
 f 
 
76 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Let us alone !" cried the old lady, with a childish shrug of 
 delight, when Randolph proposed they should land and go by rail 
 to their journey s end. " I will not lose a moment of my Sabbath 
 day. This is drowsy old music, played over and over again, 
 making one, 
 
 With half shut eyes, ever to seem 
 
 Falling asleep in a half dream." 
 
 The voices of the crew could seldom be heard above in the little 
 cabin, which, with its quiet, its cheerful compactness, its two or 
 three easy chairs drawn about the wood fire, crackling in the open 
 stove, made a home picture inside of the shifting, cold landscape 
 without. 
 
 The professor would look around it with keen, boyish enjoyment. 
 
 " We have left this miserable, bloody work quite behind us," he 
 used to say every day to Friend Blanchard, stroking his beard com 
 placently, at which she only smiled. 
 
 Yet, when even she was glad of the momentary respite in which 
 to take breath, could Garrick be blamed if he rejoiced to find his 
 muscles and brain alike sinking down again into their normal 
 stupor? This hurly-burly of work or war might be needed for the 
 masses, but the cultured soul grew in quiet y or, as he expressed it, 
 to Abigail, "The plebeian Jacob cheated and wrestled for his 
 blessing, but Abraham waited patient until the evening, and the god s 
 came and abode with him." 
 
 At which she laughed again ; nor even replied, when he assured 
 her sententiously, that u Too great action was the curse of the 
 North; it had destroyed their social manners, as well as their 
 politics and religion." None of the crude notions of the young fel 
 low would tempt her into argument to break the quiet of her holi 
 day. 
 
 So the long, cold, dreamy days crept by. In all his life after 
 ward, Garrick Randolph looked back on them as lifted up, and set 
 apart from all the years before ; a light, like that of their own crim 
 son sunsets shining through the snow, a sound, like that of the 
 inarticulate music which floated sometimes to him off from shore, 
 giving a strange, unreal glamour to them. For, under the snow 
 and sunsets, and slow, drifting silence, there was an undefinable 
 something, a pain and pleasure, restless, causeless, coming and gone 
 like the wind ; an unknown heat in his blood, an unknown thirst 
 for he knew not what ; a vexing, goading disquiet which charmed 
 and alarmed him. 
 
 Yet they were commonplace, monotonous days enough, apparently. 
 He came out from his stateroom to the quiet little breakfast with Ross- 
 lyn and her friend ; then he paced the deck or sat by the fire, studying 
 the new theory of forces, until the afternoon s long, inconsequent 
 talk with the Quakeress, while she sat wrapped in her cloak on 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 77 
 
 deck, the keen black eyes and white hair set like a picture in the 
 fur hood ; Rosslyn beside her. 
 
 He very seldom talked with Miss Burley. But he flattered him 
 self that he had an artist s eye, and fof that reason liked to note 
 how the frosty wind had brought out the clear crimson tint on her 
 cheeks, or to watch her step as she paced the deck. Sometimes she 
 sat in the cabin, and sewed at some dainty white stuff while he and 
 Friend Blanchard held their long gossips. 
 
 She was a very simple -hearted girl, he thought, easily read as a 
 page in her own Bible, and just as pure. She had no petty little 
 blushes or affectations with which to recognize him as a man, 
 young, and not unattractive. He had been used to such little 
 decoys. The last of the Page-Randolphs was a hero among his kin, 
 and he had cause to know it. But this girl spoke to the tobacco- 
 spitting captain or Sam, the cook, with just the same simple 
 courtesy. It did not nettle him. It was the reticence, yet hospi 
 tality of manner of a princess of the blood, as he said before. Her 
 birth, doubtless, gave it to her. Some day, perhaps, the king s son 
 would come ; the hero who always ends the fairy story, and the 
 princess would grow shy and distant ; even vain, maybe, like other 
 women, and jealous, lest her beauty should not be rare in his eyes. 
 
 In the long, drowsy evenings, playing chess with the old lady, 
 glancing now and then across the glowing coals at this rare beauty, 
 he had nothing better to do than to wonder what manner of man the 
 coming hero would be. Every day, as he saw her in new lights, his 
 fancy about him changed. Sometimes, when he was in his berth, 
 the boat rocking him gently to and fro, and the throbs of the 
 engine sounding beneath him, he could not sleep for thinking- of it. 
 
 About the same period, by a curious coincidence, Garrick Ran 
 dolph, for the first time in his life, began to cherish occasionally an 
 ill opinion of himself. 
 
 Now, Friend Blanchard never argued, and took but a dull inter 
 est in the antagonism of forces ; what could they do but gossip ? 
 She belonged, however, to the high Brahmin caste of gossips ; the 
 world had been a picture gallery for her, and if you looked back at 
 it through her eyes, you saw groups, posed and draped with an 
 artist s touch, wonderful for their absurdity or pathos. She humored 
 the young man too ; photographed the Randolphs and Pages for 
 him for tw r o or three generations back. They had been influential, 
 cultured, easy-livers; chivalric, also, according to the Southern 
 code. When traits such as these were patent in her anecdotes, the 
 professor would be apt to call her attention to the marked family 
 features in his own face, his father s chin, his Uncle George s nose, 
 with an unconscious vanity which keenly amused the old lady. She 
 spoke of it to Rosslyn. 
 
 " That pride seems to me natural and proper," the girl said, with- 
 
78 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 out smiling. She was leaning over the deck-railing, her grave, 
 brown eyes fixed on the water. " You taught me yourself that 
 vice or virtue comes to us in the blood from our fathers. Why 
 should he not thank God if his is clean ? " She looked down at her 
 own wrist, with the milky veins crossing on it ; looked at it long 
 and curiously, while the Quakeress watched her shrewdly from 
 behind. After a while, she said : " Who is the Strebling that Mr. 
 Randolph calls cousin ? " 
 
 "James Strebling, of Alabama. Does thee know him, my dear? 
 A flaccid, feeble fellow. His blood now, if thee talks of blood, is too 
 pale material out of which to make either a sinner or a saint." 
 
 " No. I do not know him," said Ross, still looking at her wrist. 
 After a minute or two she gently closed and unclosed her hand ; 
 the muscles under the fine flesh were like steel ; the life throbbing 
 in her broad bosom and through her lithe, delicate limbs was keen 
 and genial, and exhilarated, as the spirit of pure wine. 
 
 " jTam not flaccid. I will perforce be either a sinner or a saint," 
 fche thought to herself. After a while she suffered the unclean 
 thing to drop out of the world, so far as her memory of it was con 
 cerned, according to her old habit, and began walking up and 
 <iown, thinking of the unusual pleasure of the sunshine in the air, 
 but more of some shirts she was making for her grandfather, sing 
 ing in an undertone to herself. 
 
 The Quakeress looked after her with a fond, quizzical smile. 
 
 " The sky is blue, and the sun shines, to-day," she said. " What 
 other good news has thee heard, Rosslyn ? " 
 
 Ross laughed, but presently she came and sat down on a coil of 
 rope at Friend Blanchard s feet, quite silent for a little while, then 
 she looked up. 
 
 " You know that story I told you once ? of " 
 
 " I know ! Thee need not name it, my child," her sensitive old 
 face in a tremor, as she stroked the girl s shining hair. " Has any 
 thing hurt thee, Ross ? " 
 
 " James Strebling was that man. But I do not know him. It is 
 the Burley blood that is in my veins, and that is good and pure," 
 lifting her face proudly. 
 
 The next evening, when they were sitting by the stove together, 
 Randolph brought up the subject of the Streblings again, but Ross 
 was not in hearing. The old lady was in the mood for gossip. 
 
 " It was a curious chance that kept thy property out of .Teems 
 Strebling s hands," she said. 
 
 Randolph flushed as if from a blow in the face. " I do not un 
 derstand. What claim had he upon it ? " 
 
 " Thee has never heard the story ? " with surprise. " I am sorry 
 that I mentioned it then, Garrick. No claim, in my opinion ; yet there 
 were many to cry out at one time that he had not a claim, but a 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. . 79 
 
 right to all thy father had to give thee outside of the homestead." 
 
 " What do you mean, Friend Blanchard ? " uneasily shifting his 
 position. 
 
 She poised her finger-tips together, looking with her black, bright * 
 eyes in the fire relish of expectation all over her piquant, wrinkled < 
 face. " It is a long-ago matter, and there is no need of filling thy 
 memory with old stories. But if thee will Thy father was no 
 favorite with his father, thee knows ? " 
 
 He shook his head. She had put her finger on the raw flesh when 
 she touched the inalienable honor or dignity of his family. Per 
 haps she knew it, for she kept it there maliciously. 
 
 " Coyle Randolph was but as other Southern boys. There was 
 nothing which I should not tell to his son. He had a trenchant wit, 
 sang a good song, drank good wine, betted heavily on his horse ; these 
 things are costly, thee knows. They cost his promise of success at the 
 bar, they cost a duel or two, and more money than his father would 
 furnish, at the last. I was there, a young matron then, visiting 
 Laura Page. It was a miserable succession of duns, of tyrannical 
 rebuke on thy grandfather s side, and fierce rebellion on his son s. 
 The end of it was, that Coyle Randolph left the plantation, swear 
 ing never to return, and that day, while in the heat of his passion, 
 his father disinherited him." 
 
 " He threatened it, you probably mean. The Randolph property 
 is large, but I value it chiefly because it never was alienated from 
 the direct line. It came intact from father to son." 
 
 " It was alienated that night, Garrick. I know it, because, un 
 willingly enough, I was one of the witnesses to the will. By it the 
 entire property was devised to his nephew, James Strebling, with 
 the exception of the house, which belonged to Coyle from his 
 mother. But only the shell of the house. The old. man was merci 
 less. The old furniture, which for thee, Garrick, is precious with 
 memories, the pictures, the plate, every trifle which gave the boy 
 name or place, was taken from him. He was left a beggar." 
 
 " It was but a passing whim. How long was it before he 
 destroyed the will ? " 
 
 She hesitated. " This occurred but a month before thy grand 
 father s death. I do not know when he destroyed the will. He 
 died suddenly, as thee has heard, in the night, and alone. Up to 
 that day, he had shown no sign of relenting." 
 
 Randolph turned sharply a dull, perplexed look on her. "Do 
 you mean that the will I do not understand." 
 
 " Nor do I," briskly. " It was muddy ground throughout. I 
 never could find a clean path through it. The will was in a cabinet 
 in thy grandfather s chamber, to which only he had access. He, 
 and his body-servant, a negro named Hugh." 
 
 "O, I know Hugh 1" with a look of relief, as if he had touched 
 
80 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 land at last. " Hugh is on the place now he s a sort of odd hand, 
 carpenter, locksmith, what not. He has a knack for tool* or 
 machinery." 
 
 " The same man. Well, when the old man died, Hugh was in the 
 room before any of the household. Thy father was at the county 
 races near by, and reached home that night. When search was made 
 for the will, it was gone." She had grown interested in her own 
 story, and leaned forward, her eyes still on the fire, her hands slowly 
 tapping together. " The will was gone. Now, where did it go ? " 
 looking up abruptly in Randolph s face. " Coyle said that it had 
 been destroyed when his father s affection returned to him. But it 
 never returned. There was no relenting to the last day no relent 
 ing," slowly shaking her head. 
 
 " What became of the paper, then ? " 
 
 " Many persons believed," the words dropping out slowly, "that 
 the negro alone knew. He was brought up with. Coyle, they were 
 foster-brothers, indeed, and it was thought that, on finding his mas 
 ter dead, he had made way with the paper, and kept his own coun 
 sel." 
 
 The story was a startling and suggestive one to Garrick ; it had 
 touched him deeper than he cared to show touched him most, in 
 this new picture of the frank-faced, sturdy young fellow who sang 
 a good song, and told a good story, and betted and fought with the 
 best ; who had been a grave, temperate, shrill-voiced old man when 
 Garrick had known and loved him. He almost fancied he was 
 standing yonder in the gathering shadows, nearer akin to himself 
 than ever before. 
 
 " I like to hear you talk of my father as a young man," he said, 
 with an unsteady smile. . " It is as if he had come back to tell me 
 something of himself which he had forgotten to do when here." 
 
 Abigail Blanchard s eyes lighted as she watched the heavy figure 
 of the man opposite to her, his head drooped on his chest, the red 
 firelight playing over the sensitive, credulous face. 
 
 "I am thankful," i she said energetically, "that no hint of such a 
 suspicion ever reached thy father. His idea of honor would, have 
 made him surrender the property to James Strebling, if he had. been 
 convinced the will was destroyed by the negro, and not by the old 
 man." 
 
 " Certainly. What else was there for him to do ? The property 
 must have gone to Strebling." 
 
 After a while, he said slowly, " But few people ever understood 
 my father there are some men always at odds with the world. 
 But you interpret him rightly," his face kindling. 
 
 " Coyle and I were children together." She said no more, and he 
 sat motionless, his hand upon his mouth ; nothing broke the silence 
 but the driving sleet against the windows on the hurricane deck 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 8] 
 
 above. He took up the tongs at last, and drove them against the 
 wood in the grate, a shower of fiery sparks flickering out into the 
 darkness. 
 
 " Your story clings to me like a nightmare," rising with a forced 
 laugh. " What if James Strebling stood in my place held even 
 my negroes, say ? Why, they have been born and died side by side 
 with the Randolphs for generations ! Think of Bob Strebling the 
 master of the garden my father and mother planted, of the chairs 
 on which they sat, of their faces on the wall, of their dead bodies 
 in their graves ! " The thin cabin floor creaked under his heavy 
 steps as he paced up and down. 
 
 " Here are the lights and Rosslyn. Let the old story go with all 
 nightmares." 
 
 But he walked on without heeding, stopping at last in front of 
 her. " I wish I had known that fellow Hugh had ever been a favor 
 ite of my father s. He s had but a rough berth of it in his loft 
 over the wood-shed, I m afraid. My overseer always thought that, 
 if the worn-out, out-door hands got their rations, it was enough, 
 without coddling them, and I left matters to him too much too 
 much. I ve had more hard study laid out for me than most men. 
 It was my proper work, in fact. I put the rest aside." 
 
 She did not reply, but turned to Rosslyn, who came in all aglow 
 and laughing from the cold, and bent down, holding out her hands 
 to the blaze. 
 
 For the first time Randolph took no note of her presence. 
 " That old fellow, Hugh, had a wife who belonged to Strebling," he 
 said, " and one or two children a boy about my age Sap. I remem 
 ber it all now. They were sold or died, I forget which ; at all events 
 he never took another wife. He has been a silent, stoop-shouldered 
 old negro, pottering about the carpenter s shop since I can first 
 remember. He used to turn tops for me, and rig my boats. But I 
 preferred to hang about the other old gray-heads, who cracked their 
 jokes or sang while they rubbed down the horses. I wish I had 
 known this fellow was a favorite of my father s." 
 
 "It is not yet too late. Let the matter wait," said Abigail 
 Blanchard, gently. 
 
 She found the simple-hearted Kentuckian tedious at times. He 
 turned one idea over and over, like an overgrown boy, until it 
 was worn to shreds. She wondered to see how patiently Ross 
 listened to his prosing. But Ross palate was fresh. She had not 
 tasted so many kinds of wine as the old society gourmand. 
 
 Once, however, several days afterward, Randolph s talk became 
 worse than tedious to the girl. It cut her like the lash of an 
 ox-thong. It was in reference to this very subject of the will, to 
 which he went back uneasily, day after day. 
 
 They had reached Pittsburg, and were standing on the deck 
 
82 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 wa-tcliing the crowd of drays and workmen on the wharf, when he 
 pointed to a stolid-looking porter, rolling a barrel over the plank 
 below. 
 
 " Now, if that will had been found," he said musingly, " I should 
 have been as sheer a beggar as that boor. In worse condition, 
 perhaps, for I would have had tastes and wishes ungratified, which 
 he never knew." 
 
 " Thee could have earned thy bread and butter," dryly. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, stroking his golden brown whiskers 
 with his large white hand. 
 
 " I never discovered the advantage which accrued to a man from 
 the necessity of working for his daily livelihood. Whatever energy 
 it develops could have been called out by nobler motives. The 
 mean economy and cares of poverty degrade a man. They invari 
 ably degrade a man, and harden a woman." 
 
 Rosslyn turned sharply.* The professor looked at her with a 
 calm, reflective smile. How pure and soft were the brown eyes 
 suddenly lifted to his ! They were new to him every hour. Inex 
 plicable meanings were those which gathered in them. He went 
 below, muttering some line of Schiller s, of how that her Slick was 
 himmlischmildy and some other adjectives which he would not have 
 had hardihood to use to himself in English. 
 
 Now, neither Ross Burley s eyes or temper were himmlischmild 
 just now, when the people to whom she belonged were attacked. But 
 the unconscious Randolph, when he joined them in the depot while 
 they were waiting for the train, half an hour later, only thought how 
 pearl-like her singular purity and fairness shone among the coatings 
 of soot, and foulness of the room about her. He directed her atten 
 tion to the throng of men outside of the wide door, cracking their 
 whips, rolling barrels of oil, beating on the wheels of the engine. 
 He could not let the subject go. It was the Southern creed, after 
 all, which he had drawn in with his mother s milk. " Talk of work 
 ing for daily bread ? " he said. " The more I see of the North, the 
 more I am convinced of the necessity of a fixed aristocracy for 
 this country. I mean a class that need not expend its strength for 
 the means of subsistence, who can serve as a model and arbiter for 
 the others. Such an one can only come from generations of culture. 
 There must be thorough breeding, from the brain, to the motion of a 
 hand, or the control of an eye. We have chosen our rulers from 
 among tailors and rail-splitters long enough." 
 
 Ross Burley s head fell at that. There was not a slip-shod ser 
 vant-girl or greasy porter hurrying by, who was not akin to herself 
 in birth and breeding. Usually she was not slow to defend her 
 order ; what ailed her to-day that her face lost all trace of courage, 
 and her eyes seemed weighted with dulness ? Yet something she 
 must say. 
 
WAITING FOll THE VERDICT. 83 
 
 She put her hand on a little girl who stood near her with a basket 
 of musty cakes, her clothes smeared with soot and the rank oil. 
 
 " Now, the Bourbon blood might be hidden even under that," she 
 gaid, smiling. 
 
 Garrick gave the child some money, and pushed her away. 
 "Never. Coarse sights and sounds, such as her class know, leave 
 marks which never wash away, Miss Burley. Vulgar training is 
 the damned spot that will not out, whether you put its possessor in 
 the White House or the Tuileries. That is fact, theorize as you 
 please." 
 
 Miss Burley made no answer. How could she ? In the market 
 and alleys where she had lived, she had known sights and sounds 
 which would bring a blush to this young man s cheek. His mem 
 ory was like snow beside her own. He had been born heir to edu 
 cation and refinement which she had coined the best days of her 
 life into hard cash to buy. And yet 
 
 They were in the train at last, driving beyond the furthest sub 
 urbs, along the narrow, black line that girdled the glittering ridges 
 of snowy hills, and the endless duller white slopes between. 
 
 She remembered that she had crossed the mountains through 
 yonder gap on a Winter s day like this, long ago. It was a different 
 way of travelling, and different company ! Her heart swelled 
 under her jacket, her throat choked. If she could sit down now, 
 up in her make-believe house in the great Conestoga wagon, and put 
 her head again on the broad old knee ! 
 
 She thought of him as she had seen him down yonder, two weeks 
 ago, in the door of his tent, waving his old hickory stick to her 
 good-by ; and when she ran back for another kiss and hug, how Tie 
 had laughed at her ! 
 
 " Cheer up, little sister ! " he said. " Yer grandad 11 come safe 
 out of this trouble, you count on that ! Why, who ve you got but 
 me ? Ther s just you an me in the world, Rossline ! " He broke 
 down at that, though he laughed louder. But she had seen the 
 tears lodged in his black, stubbly cheeks. 
 
 Ross felt the tears now on her own face. She muffled herself up 
 in her veil. " God counts him of as noble birth as any of them ! " 
 she cried, hotly, to herself. The " Good Man," as she had called 
 Him long ago, was juster and more liberal ! He had another honor 
 by which to test men than learning, or their birth among pictures 
 and music, and in the midst of delicate living. He knew whether 
 or not the stains of those old days had gone into her soul, never to 
 wash away ! He had been one of her order ; it was they by whom 
 He had been loved, they watched Him at the cross, they died for 
 Him ! The earth was His now, and the fulness thereof these 
 great slopes the snow that hid them 
 
 Ross, like all unreasoning women, lapsed at a touch from one 
 
84 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 depth of feeling to another. She grew suddenly quiet ; her heart 
 filled with the strength, with the very glow and sparkle of life. It 
 was as if they had pushed her into the outer ditch, and she had found 
 Him there. She held His very hands her feet rested on His great 
 world with her old sense of firm right. It did not matter so much 
 if some of His people were fouled in their cradles with oil or with 
 vice ! 
 
 . Looking up, she saw Garrick s earnest, boyish eyes riveted on her 
 face, and smiled brightly back at him. She knew the abyss between 
 them now, and she never would suffer herself to forget it. With 
 her own place, she was content. 
 
 Shortly after which he leaned back, and fell asleep, satisfied that 
 he had found some of the " Bourbon blood " in the world, at last, in 
 her. His own possession of it, he never had doubted. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 THE Japanese thrust a gritty mould into the shell of the oyster, 
 which checks its life slowly. But when the bloodless thing is dead, 
 they find in the shell a pearl in the likeness of one of their gods. 
 There is such a mould thrust somewhere into the lives of all of us 
 human oysters if we only know what use to make of it. It came 
 first to work this " sea change " in Garrick Randolph s life, in a day 
 which he spent among the mountains. 
 
 The matter was ordinary enough. The snow had drifted into the 
 ravines, and half a dozen transportation trains lay blocked at Har- 
 risburg, filled with troops. This was on the 24th of December. 
 
 " I will not take Rosslyn further until the way is clear," Friend 
 Blanchard said, decisively. " There is a village two miles before us 
 where the mountains are gathered in as solemn state as the dead kings 
 in Hades. We will spend our Christmas at Rockville." 
 
 Randolph assented courteously, secretly chafing, according to 
 the manner of men, at being checked in the middle of his journey. 
 The Quakeress was a charming old woman, and Miss Burley as 
 charming in another view. But he had left home to do a man s 
 work. Was he to spend his life dallying by their sides, gipsying 
 through the country in this fashion ? 
 
 They stopped at a little lath and plaster house, looking like a 
 rabbit s burrow, under one of the mountains. Rosslyn was sent 
 inside to treat with the woman. 
 
 " Miss Burley is skilful at managing those people," said Garrick 
 loftily. " She speaks to everybody in their own patois, like a born 
 diplomat." 
 
 "She looks at everybody through their best trait, so all tho 
 world stands at ease with her," said the old lady, sharply. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 85 
 
 There were only women to treat with ; the men were gone to the 
 war. They were not sorry to make a little money, or to find 
 Christmas coming to the gate with such an unexpected jolly 
 face. They gave up their two or three rooms, clean and bare and 
 cold, and went to work with zest, to build great fires in them, 
 and to bring out their sheets and blue woolen counterpanes to 
 spread on the piled feather beds. Besides, Ross good humor 
 and delight were infectious. The whole little house began to 
 glow, what with the novel warmth, and flash of the fires, and her 
 fun and laughter, up stairs and down. " She believed Christmas 
 himself lived among these mountains," she told the old lady, rub 
 bing her hands, and turning out the contents of the valise to find 
 her a looser house dress, her eyes dancing. She went out with 
 Jane, the whey-skinned, sour-looking house-daughter, to find a 
 monster turkey in some of the neighboring farm-houses, and 
 brought her home, both of them laden, their faces red and bright. 
 Jane s mother, who was over the stove, her skirt tucked up, cook 
 ing a famous supper, made an excuse to bring her into the little 
 kitchen (as clean as a Shaker meeting-house) so that grandmother 
 might hear her voice. 
 
 " And her face is just as sweet," said Mrs. Baldwin, as she put 
 on the griddles for the batter-cakes. " It s got the genooine look 
 in it, besides the pink and white and the yallar hair. Our Jane 
 might have bin like her if she d had that bringin up." 
 
 " Seems as if I d heerd that v ice afore," said the old woman, 
 clicking her knitting-needles slower, " an I m never mistaken in a 
 v ice. Seems as if I d heerd that afore." 
 
 Rosslyn went out again, her curls thrust up under a woolen cap, 
 to the pine forest about the base of the mountain, and came back 
 laden with branches of cedar, the scarlet fire-bush, and long wreaths 
 of green, delicate colt s foot. She made two or three journeys, 
 Jane helping her, and then they tacked it up about the little parlor. 
 
 When Garrick came down for tea, between the green wreathing 
 the walls, and the still, glowing bed of coals in the grate, and the 
 white little supper-table in the middle, and the vine-draped win 
 dows framing the wild, desolate landscape without, the quiet wait 
 ing-room was as warm and heartsome a home picture as one would 
 Bee in a lifetime. It touched him oddly, with as much annoyance 
 as pleasure. This girl carried home about with her, he believed. 
 He had no mind just now to believe anything to her credit, or to 
 think of her in any way. He had been nervous and irritable during 
 the last two days, angry as a fly who fears its feet are caught in the 
 web. This woman, or any woman, was nothing to him, he said to 
 himself as he stood there waiting. If they had gone on, he would 
 have bidden her good-by in Philadelphia by this time, and there 
 would have been the end of it. His twinge of pain at the thought 
 but made him angrier. 
 
86 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 He was not going to marry a brown eye, and pink cheek ! He 
 was a man of long experience and reflection. He had his ideal of 
 a wife, his rules of the birth, and training, and character-requisites. 
 Unalterable rules ; and just then, the supper came in. Jane told 
 him that the Quaker lady was tired and cold, and would take tea in 
 her own room. 
 ^"MissBurley?" 
 
 Miss Burley was out. 
 
 He walked hastily to the window. The great shadows of the 
 mountains had brought twilight already over the white wastes of 
 snow, marked here and there only by a sunken fence or a brown 
 stream creeping down to the river. 
 
 Where was she ? It was a lonely, hill country. Even if there 
 were no danger, she was but a childish, superstitious girl, he thought, 
 and would be frightened at the solitude, and these uncanny shadows. 
 He went to the door, anxiously, but saw her at that moment 
 coming slowly up the road. Then he went hurriedly back to the 
 fire ; he had done all that courtesy demanded ; but he bent over so 
 that he could watch every step which brought her nearer. Her 
 most careless motion always seemed to him as if it kept time to some 
 music which he could not hear. 
 
 Presently she came in. He had never seen her in a house dress 
 before. The loosened curls, the soft, sweeping folds of clear blue, 
 the lace, like foam about her arching throat well, it was a novel, 
 pretty picture what more? If Ross had heeded him, she would 
 have thought the professor grim and peevish under his heavy 
 politeness ; but she did not notice him further than by a friendly 
 smile. The shadow of the mountains was on her ; she was silent 
 and subdued. 
 
 Randolph placed her chair at the table, moved it again, nervously, 
 opposite to his own. He wondered if she remembered that it was 
 the first time they had ever been alone together ; he wondered if 
 she remembered that she had saved his life ? 
 
 When she sat down behind the little coffee urn, and began to fill 
 his cup, he thought that if his ideal wife had ever been found, she 
 would probably have filled the central place in this scene to-day. 
 She was to have been an olive-skinned, fragile woman, with coils of 
 black hair, and a Greek nose. She would have been southern in 
 birth and feeling ; sensible ; taking an interest in science. She never 
 would have run with infidel Abolitionists or haunted the terminus 
 of an underground railway. 
 
 Ross was quiet, indifferent ; the novel pleasure of the day waa 
 gone, apparently, for her. He saw her glance now and then out at 
 the graying valley below, where the dumb river lay motionless and 
 patient under the drifting sleet, while the black, gigantic mountains 
 shouldered each other, looking down. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 87 
 
 " They seem like ghosts crowding about a grave," she thought, 
 with a shiver. 
 
 He noted the darkening trouble in-her eye with a fierce jealousy. 
 What was she thinking of? What did he know of the million 
 fancies and plans under that broad forehead ; what her hopes were, 
 whom she hated or loved ? He was not of her kind ; he had never 
 even looked into the world she lived in ; he was but an awkward 
 book-worm ; he had wasted over retorts and crucibles the years 
 that might have made him a man worthy to be her friend. He did 
 not know why he should address her coldly and formally, making 
 every little courtesy of the table seem a covert rap intended to keep 
 her at her proper distance ; but he did it, and Ross, after a look of 
 mild surprise, lapsed into silence, the look in her eyes growing 
 more absent as she ate her supper, and watched the melancholy 
 clouds gather about the pale, watery sunset. 
 
 An acute pain shot through his temples as he gulped down his 
 strong coffee. He went on, according to his habit, turning the one 
 idea over, and over, although it was one that tortured him. He 
 never had known her true self he never would. He was at liberty 
 to look at the fair mask of hair, and eyes, and color, and to admire 
 it: any boor on the street could do the same. But for her secret 
 thought, her confidence, her love she held them hid away, kept for 
 
 their master He choked : the drops he was swallowing grew 
 
 bitter as gall to him. He resolutely bent his head, and when she 
 spoke to him, answered with averted eyes. 
 
 The little fire crackled, the sleet, blown by the wind, struck 
 sharply on the window pane : they fell into silence. In a word, tho 
 professor was struggling desperately to recover his old self. His 
 senses were for the moment cleared, and he saw a diiferent man 
 taking possession, as it were, of his body ; where were his reason, 
 his prudence, his unalterable rules vanishing ? The heat, the jeal 
 ous passion that fevered and racked his brain, alarmed and disgusted 
 him. The old fastidious, complacent spirit was not so far dead in 
 him, that it could not sneer at the new comer angry and resentful. 
 
 He had meant some day to fall in love, and to marry. All men 
 did so. But there should first have be6n an acquaintance of a year 
 at least ; love should have been based on a thorough respect, a keen 
 sympathy in all tastes and opinions 
 
 What was she thinking of now ? The dark pupils of her eyes 
 widened, and her forehead knitted as if she held back tears. She 
 rose with some trivial apology she was going away indifferently ; 
 what did it matter to her that they were alone for the first time ? 
 that the great silent mountains, the deserts of snow, even the little, 
 warm, cheerful room seemed to shut them in from the world. 
 
 They two, alone, together. 
 
 Ross was not going away. She only went to the window. She 
 
88 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 liad hard work to keep back the troublesome tears, as he guessed: 
 tears, however, with which love and lovers had noil dug whatever 
 to do. 
 
 The truth was, that the awful solitude of the place oppressed 
 her; and the gloom, the silence in which these great monarchs of 
 the world had stood for ages together. The snow, too, whose gray 
 reservoirs, without a sound, had flooded the sky, blotting it out, 
 was not the old, familiar snow of which she had been used to make 
 balls or giants, long ago, in the days of Joe and the old Conestoga. 
 This was the very realm. of silence and of sorrow. Now Ross, in 
 the grain, was a practical little body ; she had to find for the 
 vague trouble in her mind a reasonable cause. So it came to pass 
 while she was eating her supper that she was picturing the miserable 
 Christmas that her grandfather would spend, wishing she had found 
 a larger turkey to go in the box which she sent him from Louisville. 
 She had a plan for next Christmas if the war was over and it 
 was the thought of that next Christmas, which brought the tears 
 up, and made her go to the window lest she should be suspected of 
 crying. 
 
 Garrick followed her. They stood side by side ; he looked down 
 at the tender curve of her mouth, the truth-telling eyes. Wh} 
 should he leave her to be the wife of another man ? What if he 
 were awkward, and almost a stranger to her? She came so near 
 so near. Her look, her little shy ways, her voice, were all akin V 
 him belonged to his own soul, his own long solitude and silence, 
 as if they two stood alone in a foreign world, far from their native 
 country. 
 
 Love ? At the first bold entrance of the thought, a great quiet 
 came to him, a delicious repose ; it was as if the checked current, 
 seething against its barrier, angry and turbid, had broken through 
 at last, and spread gently over a land which would be forever green 
 and sunny. 
 
 If she never loved him, if they parted there never to meet, it 
 would not undo this which was done. He loved her. Now, in truo 
 love, there is always a great content and completeness, though it 
 starve and die unreturned, knowing that, in some world beyond 
 this, the recompense is sure. 
 
 When Garrick heard Rosslyn speak, he listened as if to inarticu 
 late music. It surprised him, when he came out of the depth of his 
 own emotion, to find that she was talking of nothing but the grass 
 outside. She knew nothing of him or his love she might nevei 
 care to know. 
 
 " The seed-grass looks like pearl-sprays with this hoar-frost on 
 it," she said ; " and see this brier," throwing up the window to 
 break a twig of "it. When she turned to show him how the thorns 
 were sheathed in ice, her moist eyes were yet heavy, her cheeks 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 89 
 
 flushed the hoar-frost had showered from the shaken bush in glit 
 tering sparks over her golden maze of hair. 
 
 He took the bough mechanically, and gave it back, his eyes fixed 
 on her face. 
 
 "Miss Burley" (his voice surprised himself, it was so quiet and 
 grave), " once, when I first .knew you, I said that, if ever I spoke 
 with you alone, I would tell you that I knew what you had done 
 for me, and that I did not forget it." 
 
 Ross drew down her brows, perplexed. " O, you mean the drive 
 from the ford ? " 
 
 He colored. " It saved my life." 
 
 " I would have done as much for any one. I incurred no risk. 
 Besides, it is Pitt who deserves your thanks, if any are due." 
 
 She stood, playing with her frosted twig, an invisible wall of ice 
 about her ; no passion or force of his, he thought, could break it 
 down. 
 
 And indeed, beyond looks, the meaning of which Rosslyn was 
 too slow-witted to interpret, the professor had treated the young 
 girl, so far, with the just, mild consideration which he used to his 
 pupils ; he was a painstaking, somewhat patronizing protector, but 
 no more. 
 
 What her secret idea of him was by this time, only she knew, or 
 ever will know ; whether she still thought of him as Greatheart, 
 and herself as Mercy, or whether she shrewdly suspected him of 
 being a prig and a pedant. 
 
 Finding that she continued silent, having forgotten, apparently, 
 all that he had said, Garrick forced an unsteady laugh, though there 
 was no laugh in the grave, anxious eyes looking over her head at 
 the whitened window panes. 
 
 " In the old romances," he said, "the adventure always begins 
 by the rescue of the maiden s life by the knight. A life saved 
 serves a good purpose in the opening of a story." 
 
 " What good purpose ? " she said, carelessly. " To the story, I 
 mean ? " 
 
 Randolph paused. " It breaks down the barriers of ceremony, 
 the insincere rules of society sweeps them away as prolix rubbish. 
 It gives to the story the chance of a fairer ending." His voice sank 
 meaningly. " They stand together no longer knight and maiden, but 
 face to face as man and woman." 
 
 She turned, startled at the change in his tone, and as she listened 
 an astonished pain gathered in her face. 
 
 " The bond between them removes them into a world of truth 
 and reality " 
 
 She moved he put out his hand to detain her, raising his voice 
 hurriedly " Into a world where there is something deeper than the 
 courtesy and badinage which you and I have known hate and 
 love." 
 
90 . WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Ross stood silent a moment. There were times when she had the 
 power of great reticence ; her simple, serious manner, which openly 
 eaid, " Thus far I go, but no further," was to a man like Randolph 
 an impregnable barrier. 
 
 " We have been taught in different schools," she said, smiling. 
 "Now, to me the forms of society are , altogether useful, and not 
 insincere. They would be a pleasanter bond than any uneasy sense 
 of gratitude to me." 
 
 " You wish me to forget what I owe to you, then ? " abruptly. 
 
 " You owe me so little ! " with a slight gesture of her fingers, a& 
 if she threw something away. "But if it were more Friend 
 Blanchard would tell you that there was no yoke so light or so 
 galling as that of gratitude. And as for me, I should not wish to be 
 compelled to choose as my friend for life the man who chanced to 
 drag me out of the under-tow or the burning house. He might not 
 be at all a comfortable companion with whom to walk in your world 
 of realities." 
 
 He was in no humor for jest. For the first time, she found his 
 indolent face stern and immovable. She tried to pass him, but he 
 did not perceive her. 
 
 " See ! " moving her hand as though she lifted something from his 
 shoulders. " I take off all weight of gratitude to me. You shall 
 not impose any yoke upon yourself if I can help it. I must go to 
 bid Friend Blanchard good-night, now." 
 
 " One moment, Miss Burley " 
 
 Ross drew back; when she saw how earnest he was, she stood 
 quite still, her breath coming quicker, and her face a little pale. 
 Garrick read it with a keen impatience. It angered him that she 
 did not comprehend his feeling and respond to it, though, in truth, 
 the suddenness of its heat and passion startled himself. Since he 
 was a child, every shade of opinion or emotion which he chose to 
 express had been watched and discussed with eager interest by his 
 father or Aunt Laura. Now, at this great crisis of his life, when 
 his very soul, he thought, was going out into an untried existence, 
 he was left alone, and the woman for whom he risked all stood by, 
 blind and indifferent. It was therefore more the petted old bach 
 elor, grown stiff in his own habits and whims, that spoke to Ross- 
 lyn again, than the boy beneath, who, for the first time in his life, 
 was learning to love. 
 
 " It is impossible that you do not understand me," he said, petu 
 lantly. " I have no wish to force my gratitude on you. The service 
 probably was nothing to you, but it imported much to me and to 
 those who care for me. But I have no wish to force my gratitude 
 . no. It was another desire. I express myself ill I have known 
 BO few women having lived so much alone," he hesitated, and then 
 caught her frank, brown eyes resting curiously on his. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 91 
 
 " I do not understand," gently. " I am both dull and blunt, my 
 grandfather says. You must use blunt words to me. Can I serve 
 you again, Mr. Randolph ? " 
 
 Garrick laughed ; a cordial, eager laugh ; something in the 
 straightforward, earnest eyes had called his manhood up alert and 
 strong ; there was no hesitation now 
 
 " You can serve me, surely. You talked a moment ago of choos 
 ing a friend choose me. Let us find some quiet path in that world 
 of realities, and go walking in it together, testing the world and 
 testing each other. What do you say?" holding out his hand, 
 forgetting to smile in his grave eagerness. 
 
 She did not speak, though her lips moved once or twice. She 
 watched him. searchingly, doubting her own idea of his meaning. 
 
 " I know so little," he said, " of any world where men and women 
 dare to show themselves to each other as God made them. I have 
 lived among books, among acids and salts. I have had no friend 
 ships nor loves among women, as other young men. I have looked 
 at them through a kind of religious glamour as men did in the old 
 chivalric days. Suffer me to be your friend. Suffer me to come 
 near you." 
 
 Ross was looking wistfully out of the window. She gave a queer, 
 absent little nod. " My friend ? My friend ? I know how that 
 would end I know." 
 
 Randolph bent forward, his eager, breathless lips apart. " I only 
 ask to be your friend now," in a gentle, explanatory voice, as if he 
 talked to a child. " I do not wish to urge you, or to be coarse, or 
 rough. Perhaps I should not have said even this until you were 
 under the shelter of your own home I know how much it is for me 
 to ask. But you have seemed so near, so different from all other 
 women," looking away from her ; talking to himself of her. " And 
 I am not made of stone." 
 
 He said no more, watching the erect little figure, the sweet yet 
 strong face turned full toward the only light in the room. There 
 wereMio shy blushes nor smiles on it: on the contrary, he fancied it 
 had a worn, shrunken look in the last few moments which he had 
 never seen before ; yet, never had it seemed to him so womanly or 
 so helpless. 
 
 Now, in that moment there was a curious remembrance strong in 
 her mind. 
 
 Ross Burley lived in the hearts of a great many men and women ; 
 her life was too healthy and sunny and full of affection not to have 
 draw r n toward it many weaker, hungrier natures. She gave to them 
 as a hill spring gives water, lavishly, without money and without 
 price. But from love such as she read in this man s face, when it 
 had come to her before, she had turned away, pained and dumb. 
 She never talked of it, or of marriage, to the young girls who were 
 
92 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 her companions ; their chatter seemed coarse and worldly. But one 
 night long ago, sitting by her grandfather on the fioor, she had 
 spoken to him of it ; gravely, as she might of her dead mother or 
 of Christ ; it was that night which she thought of now. 
 
 " I do not know what love is," she had said. " But neither do 
 these men. No ; they do not know ! " shaking her head as she 
 looked in the fire. 
 
 Old Joe smoked his pipe out slowly before he answered her, then 
 he spoke in an uncertain way, thrusting his finger in the bowl. 
 
 " Some day you ll know, Rossline. I ll be glad when I ve heerd 
 that day has come, although I ll be glad for you see a woman s 
 veins is jest half dried up without husband and child of her own." 
 He stopped a moment, and then lifting her face by the chin, looked 
 her steadily in the eyes as be said, " Rossline, ef that day ever 
 should come, remember that them as love is born agin. You ve 
 ben different from others ; there s bin hurts you ve had. Ye re to 
 leave all behind all. Ye re to take no smut nor stain to him as 
 calls you. Cleavin unto him, says the Good Man, an forsakin 
 father an mother an house. Rossline, that ll mean yer grandad 
 along with the rest." She had laughed at the time. 
 
 But he had not laughed; had grimly knocked the ashes Out of 
 his pipe, and after a while had drawn her on to his knee, saying, 
 "Ye re mine yet, Sweetheart. But ye re to put me away with the 
 rest. Mind them words of mine. Maybe some day they ll make 
 yer way clear." 
 
 Why did all this come to Ross Burley, now ? This man had 
 only offered her friendship, yet no lover that had sued to her had so 
 challenged the very secrets of her so^il. She struggled against ex 
 posure, she would not have her inmost fancies dragged to the light 
 thus. But before all other thoughts, were her grandfather s words 
 on that night. She understood them at last. Was the time ever to 
 come when she must choose between him and any other ? , 
 
 She roused herself with a sort of shiver when Randolph s face 
 came between her and the light. 
 
 " You will suffer me to be your friend ? What if we learned to 
 know each other in all sincerity, face to face. It would but " 
 
 She threw up her hand hastily. He stopped. 
 
 " It is a very ordinary thing that you ask, I know. Most women 
 form such compacts. But I am a stranger to you. What do you 
 know of me ? " 
 
 All that there was to know, came freshly to her with the words ; 
 the misery, the shame that began before she was born ; the years 
 of abject poverty; the years of struggle, every one of which, how 
 ever praiseworthy in itself, would be an iron bar between her and 
 this man. 
 
 "It is too early to ask for friendship," she said, turning away; 
 " there is too much to learn of me." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 93 
 
 " For leave to learn it, then ? " with a quick step forward. " See ; 
 my life is open to you, every day of it and my thoughts ; they are 
 both weak and trivial enough, God knows. But I think that some 
 thing has entered into them which will make them noble and true if 
 it will stay." 
 
 Ross blushed and laughed nervously. After all, she was childish 
 in some things, and his honest, awkward gestures, his earnest, boy 
 ish eyes touched her home. And then it was so difficult for her to 
 feel always guilty for James Strebling s crime. He only asked to 
 be her friend, what right had she to deny him ? But he should be 
 warned. 
 
 " I cannot forbid you to stand nearer, or to criticise me," she 
 said. " But it is better that men and women should look at each 
 other always through your religious glamour, I think. When they 
 come face to face, they see " 
 
 " They see what ? " 
 
 " Stains, which no water will wash away." 
 
 " I do not understand you," after a moment s startled pause. 
 But the bitter emphasis was gone already from her good-tempered, 
 happy face. " No matter. Let me go now. Give me time. But 
 if you will read one line, you shall read all. I will keep nothing 
 back." 
 
 He did not seem .to hear her, but stood listening with an indul 
 gent smile, as to a child s talk. Once he stooped, and took the 
 branch of brier from her, with a hungry impulse to hold something 
 which she had touched. When he breathed carelessly on it, the 
 silvery crust of frost disappeared from the stem and seed vessels, 
 and trickled down, soiling his hand. He threw it away. 
 
 Ross nodded to it meaningly. "You brought it too close. There 
 is nothing of it now but a broken bough, and a blot of muddy 
 water. You are warned." 
 
 He laughed triumphantly. " I am not afraid." 
 
 But Ross looked down at it again, as if it bore for her some pe 
 culiar meaning. 
 
 " I do not like ill omens," she said, gravely, at which Garrick 
 smiled again complacently. Her little whims and ignorances were 
 very charming in his eyes. 
 
 When she went away, he accompanied her, holding the door open, 
 with his usual stately politeness, bowing low. 
 
 " Good night, my friend." 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 He did not offer his hand .again. She was glad of that. How he 
 had thrown down the bit of brier under foot, when it only smirched 
 his fingers ! He should know whose hand hers was before he touched 
 it again. She walked heavily up the stairs, thinking how once the 
 man whose child she was, had drawn on his dainty gloves because 
 her finders smelled of fish-brine. 
 
94 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 When she came to her own room, ske stopped, leaning her hea<i 
 and arms on the bureau, looking into the square "bit of glass. Was 
 it her fault that she had been born poor, and with these damned 
 spots on her which nothing would take away ? She looked at the 
 clear-cut, delicate face, at the reasonable soul in her eyes. After 
 she had made herself this, was she to give up all the chance of life ? 
 Were these men, father and lover, to thrust her aside for that which 
 was no crime of hers ? 
 
 Yet as she looked, a comfort began to come to her from her own 
 features. " Nature stamped me a Burley," she said. " I thank 
 God for that." She began to make ready to pay her nightly 
 visit to Friend Blanchard, and: as she moved about, her grand 
 father s old words came to her persistently, how that the day would 
 some time come when she would choose to leave him behind. Him, 
 and the old life of which he was a part. 
 
 " That day will never come," said Ross Burley. " Never." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE RECORD OF A LIFE. 
 
 FRIEND Blanchard sat reading by a lamp in her little chamber. 
 The one square window was uncurtained, and outside, a single 
 white mountain peak glowered down on her through the night, like 
 a solitary spectre, keeping watch. At another time the solitude, and 
 the terrors of the night and mountain would have been subjects to 
 appreciate and enjoy, as she would the tragic music of the march 
 of men going to battle, but now she had something else to think of. 
 She had heard the faint murmur of voices below, then Rosslyn s 
 foot upon the stairs. When she passed into her own chamber, the 
 old lady laid down her book, her eyes kindling under their black 
 brows as she watched the door impatiently. 
 
 When the tap for which she waited came, however, and Rosa 
 entered, she began to read placidly, after a keen glance at her. 
 
 " There is thy chair, my child." 
 
 In the long silence that followed, the* older woman looked at the 
 young one once or twice, furtively, as she turned a page. 
 
 " I think it has come," she thought, with a jealous, fierce contrac 
 tion of her mouth and nostrils. Her love for the girl was something 
 between a mother s sense of possession, and the gallant admiration 
 of a man. She scanned again and again the figure by the fire, with 
 the soft, white folds of the woolen wrapper falling about it, the 
 wavy, golden hair knotted back, the blue-veined, bare feet thrust 
 into slippers. " Randolph has spoken to her. There is a look in 
 her face that was never there before. Rosslyn is gone out of my 
 world," with a sarcastic smile. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 95 
 
 But her eyes ached. She put her book down, and unpinned her 
 cap strings. She had not known how much of her daily bread this 
 girl had furnished in the last eleven years. And old age is hungry. 
 When the cap was laid aside, she stood up suddenly, and, going 
 over to her, stooped and kissed her on the forehead. Ross smiled, 
 but the color came to the faces of both women. 
 
 " You never kissed me before." 
 
 " No. Women disgust me with their indiscriminate fondlings. 
 Thy person was thine own. But thee has been as dear to me, Ross, 
 as the child of my own body." 
 
 " I was not that. I owe you more than birth, I think. You 
 made me, after the fashion in which Caspar Hauser was made by 
 those who found him." 
 
 " Rosslyn ? " 
 
 She put her hand on Ross forehead, pushing back her head and 
 looking into the pale face with its spot of scarlet heat on either 
 cheek, and the steady, piercing eyes. 
 
 " Rosslyn, thee is not wont to nurse morbid fancies." 
 
 " It is not morbid," gravely, moving gently away. " But I am 
 apt to forget what I was, or, remembering, to be ashamed of it. I 
 understand why the nuns found it necessary to use the lash on their 
 own bare flesh sometimes. Friend Abigail " She stopped abruptly. 
 
 " What is it, Ross ?" 
 
 " Nothing," after a short pause ; " only the name which your 
 people chose to be called by. It never struck me before. Friend ? 
 Friend? That means so much," looking up, her eyes growing 
 uncertain, and dim. 
 
 "Yes. It means more than any other word," watching her 
 shrewdly as she sat opposite to her on a low settee. " When God 
 gives a friend to a woman in her husband, or lover, or child, He has 
 little more to give her here." 
 
 "I can understand that," said Ross, slowly. She had a thick, 
 gray-bound book in her lap, something like a day-book. Her hands 
 were clasped over it. Friend Blanchard took off her watch. As 
 she wound it, she looked askance at the mouth, sternly shut, and 
 averted eyes. 
 
 " Can I help thee, Ross ? Thee has some trouble to-night." 
 
 " No," with a forced smile. " I was only thinking of the gifts, 
 which you say God has for women. But one woman cannot have 
 all ; one must give something up." 
 
 "No," laying down the watch. "One cannot have all. But 
 God gives us a choice." 
 
 " A choice ? Yes, there is a choice." She was silent a while, 
 then lifted the book and began to unclasp it. 
 
 " What is it that thee has there ? " 
 
 " Some old drawings of mine that you have never seen," chang- 
 
90 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 ing her seat so that she could hold the book open before them "both. 
 "I wanted to look at them, and show them to you to-night." 
 
 "Yes." She asked no questions, carefully avoided Ross face; 
 following her gravely, as she turned over the leaves to the first 
 page. 
 
 " You know what this is ? " 
 
 " I think so. Yes. A stall in the Pine Street market. But it 
 was not so wretched a place as thee has painted it." 
 
 " Wretched ? " said Ross, thoughtfully. "Did I make it that ? I 
 did not intend that. I go down there often, and they give me 
 such a hearty welcome ! Those people were very kind to me 
 they re kinder to each other than any other class. See, here is 
 where the old Conestoga used to wait for me every evening. I 
 never hear such bells as ours, now. This is Scheffer s boy to the 
 right. He is a butcher out in Spring Garden. He calls his eldest 
 girl for me, Rosslyn Comly. He works hard to keep his old father 
 and mother in a certain idle state that is his sole pride. He is a 
 God-fearing and helpful man, with a vein of tenderness under all, 
 though he has spent his life in killing beeves. His dirty face used 
 to symbolize all misery and vice to me. It would do so to Garrick 
 Randolph now." 
 
 " Yes," said the Quakeress dryly. " It always will." 
 
 Ross had spoken in a low, constrained voice, as if she repeated a 
 lesson. She turned the leaf. 
 
 Friend Blanchard smiled. " Thee has made the old Quakeress, 
 in her sober carriage, look like Cleopatra under her purple sails." 
 
 Ross did not laugh. " No colors would paint you as you seemed 
 to me that day. It was a Summer day do you remember? 
 Fifteen years ago, now I was eating my bread and cheese here by 
 these fish barrels, when you drove slowly by in the pleasant evening 
 light. Oh, the loathing that came to me at that moment of myself 
 and my place ! I followed you then " 
 
 Friend Blanchard put out her hand and closed the book. 
 
 "Enough of this," authoritatively. "What does it mean? 
 What purpose will it serve ? " 
 
 Ross stood up, her mouth more set and stern. 
 
 " It means that it is good for me to go back and see myself as I 
 was then. It means that I was in danger to-night of forgetting 
 the child that left her stall, and followed you through the crowded 
 streets to your home, full of a hungry discontent, asking you what 
 she should do to grow like you. It is better for me to remember, 
 beyond that, what might have been my fate, if you had turned me 
 away " She raised her head irresolutely, and let it fall, her skic 
 growing gray and dry. " What I might have been " 
 
 "Stay, Rosslyn!" 
 
 " I do not know. I was so filled with shame. That old stain on 
 me was so heavy to bear. It is heavy sometimes now " 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 97 
 
 Friend Blanchard put her trembling hands together to steady 
 them. "Thee forgets Who sent thee to me, Rosslyn. "Who had 
 thee in care." 
 
 Ross grew pale slowly. "I do not forget. He was like us. He, 
 was one of us," under her breath. 
 
 "Why should thee think of those days with bitterness then?" 
 
 " I am not bitter," said poor Ross. " Only sometimes Well," 
 with a sigh, " God knows what I would be it I did not go back 
 sometimes to the place and people where I belong. I might begin 
 to talk of Bourbon blood," with a faint smile. " So I made these 
 pictures, and have kept them. They are studies from nature which 
 no book can furnish me. Do you remember this?" holding the leaf 
 open at the picture of a girl of ten or twelve years old, tawdrily 
 dressed, with rouge on her cheeks and mock pearls strung through 
 her hair. 
 
 Friend Blanchard colored. " It is a caricature." 
 
 " No," said Ross, her eyes beginning to lighten into their old 
 pathetic humor as she looked at it. " Tlui was Rosslyn Burley 
 left to herself. It was the end of your experiment of the first year. 
 My grandfather took me from the market, and sent me to the public 
 school. At the end of the year I was to come to you and it was 
 in this fashion that I went." She held the picture closer, her 
 mouth twitching with a smile, but her eyes were wet when she 
 looked up. 
 
 " That miserable dress was the result of so many struggles and 
 ambitions for that poor little girl ! " she said. " It was the best she 
 knew, and she did it. Beyond what you see here, whatever I am, 
 came from you." 
 
 "No. Thee did not owe it to me that God gave thee the 
 artist s eye and hand, the talent which brought all else with it. I 
 wish thee to be clear on one point, Rosslyn," gravely. " Thee owes 
 me nothing beyond advice and sympathy. I took care of that. I 
 meant thee should be free from any obligation which it might annoy 
 thy husband to remember. I have often wished for an opportunity 
 to tell thee this. Thy education was paid for at first by thy grand 
 father, and afterward by the sale of thy designs. Thee is indebted 
 to no one for the help of money." 
 
 " I am glad of that," heartily. 
 
 She turned over the leaves of the book rapidly. It was a thick 
 volume, and well filled ; on every page one or two studies. 
 
 " I never kept a diary, I am so dull a writer; but I think any one 
 could read my life here. It seems plain to me. Here are the days 
 before I knew you, and bits from the School of Design ; there are 
 receipts from the engravers who employ me, and faces of people 
 whom I know " 
 
 She paused there. There were many of these last, as many vile 
 7 
 
98 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT 
 
 as pure the vacant and ignorant, with the noble, and the common 
 place, ennobled by resolute purpose. Something which she read in 
 all of them brought the healthy tone back suddenly into Ross 
 voice. " These faces here are people who love me, I think," she said 
 gently, closing the book. 
 
 The old lady, seeing how the angry lines had softened out of her 
 face, and hearing her voice cheerful and full again, leaned back in her 
 chair, and fell easily into the prosy current of moralizing with which 
 she usually closed the day. " After all," she said, " life is but a long 
 battle with circumstances for all of us. Thee has thine enemy there 
 in visible form, Rosslyn." 
 
 " Yes, it is all here," she said, quietly. " One might guess at even 
 the birth of James Streb ling s daughter, from the pages of this 
 book." 
 
 There was a long silence. S ;ddenly Abigail raised herself in her 
 chair with energy, holding out her hand. "Rosslyn," she said, 
 "give me that book. It is unjust, unjust, that the sins of the father 
 should fall on the children. Some day thee will wish to marry, and 
 thee has no right to carry disgrace to thy husband." 
 
 " No, I have no right." 
 
 " Destroy the book, and conceal thy birth. The rest will not 
 matter." 
 
 Ross shut the clasps of the book securely. She tried to speak, 
 but did not. 
 
 Abigail still held her hand outstretched. " I am an older woman 
 than thee. I know the value of what thee is giving up. I know 
 what a woman needs." 
 
 Ross chin began to quiver, and her fingers to move unsteadily 
 over the cover ; but she held it firm. " There is a great deal of 
 comfort to me in these old days," she said. " I will tell no lie about 
 my life. I will lose nothing but a friend who will not like its 
 story, perhaps. And one cannot keep all. One must let some 
 thing go." 
 
 And that night, when her door was locked upon her again, there 
 came to her the words of her grandfather, already made so plain, 
 and then she knew that, whatever friend or true lover she gave up, 
 it would not be the old man on whose knee she had sat, on whose 
 breast her head had lain, and in whose heart she was so securely 
 held. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE GLAMOUR OF AN OPEX FIKE. 
 
 ARRICK RANDOLPH 
 
 grew tired of pacing up 
 and down the quiet par 
 lors of his hotel, so went 
 up to the Academy of Sci 
 ences, and paced solemnly 
 up and down there, be 
 tween the cases of mine 
 rals and mummies. 
 
 He was sulky, but he 
 thought he was misan 
 thropic. It was a week 
 since he had come to 
 Philadelphia: the streets, 
 every day, echoed to the 
 monotonous tramp of reg 
 iments passing down to 
 the Army of the Potomac, 
 but there was no commis 
 sion ready for him. Friend 
 Blan chard doubted if all 
 her plotting or forcing 
 would* slip him into even 
 an inferior place. 
 
 The drowse and enchantment of the journey Avere over. The 
 war, terrible and bloody, was present in every sight or sound. The 
 face of a great city compacts and reflects like a convex mirror the 
 feeling of a country, and even Garrick s slow eyes read with 
 amazement in it, the strength and resolve of the North and the 
 slow agony of this grapple, which was to end in a better life or in 
 death. 
 
 But as for himself if he went into the streets to jostle with the 
 throng, he was of no more note than any other looker-on; than 
 
100 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 these jaunty school-girls, or hook-nosed, red-cravatted Jew shop- 
 boys lounging tli rough their Sabbath afternoon. He spoke to no 
 body from morning until night ; drank his wine alone ; began to be 
 grateful for the bow of the dining-room steward which recognized 
 him as a boarder : it gave him a place in the human family. Look 
 ing out now over the vast flat of houses, swarming with human 
 beings of whom he knew but one solitary old woman, he began to 
 feel as if he belonged as little to this world about him, as did the 
 little dried-up skeletons of birds and fishes, staring at him with 
 fleshless eyes, and as if he had come out of as narrow and remote 
 a groove of life as their s had been. 
 
 In a word, Randolph had come to take part in the war, feeling 
 like Hercules putting his shoulder to the cart-wheel, and he found 
 himself to be but the fly on the rim. Blessed is the man who learns 
 that most wholesome and galling of lessons in his youth ! Better 
 a leg or an arm lost in the battle of middle-life, than .self-com 
 placency wrenched away late from us ! 
 
 It was no comfort to him to think of Rosslyn. Their Christmas 
 in the mountains had suddenly lost its zest, although the pro 
 gramme had been unaltered : impromptu gifts, the carols and the 
 dinner had all been gone through, but Miss Burley played her part 
 like an /automaton.^ The lamp was there, but the light in it had 
 gone out, and Mr. Randolph had an nneasy sense all day that he 
 had been to blame for it. 
 
 Rosslyn spent half of the afternoon in the kitchen, talking to the 
 old grandmother about a wagoner named Joe, who had stopped at 
 the tavern which the Baldwins had kept long ago. He heard them 
 as he passed the door. He told Friend Blanchard that he perceived 
 Miss Burley was a radical. "Had she any aesthetic appetite for 
 studies of vulgarity of habit and diction, or was she acting as a 
 home missionary ? " 
 
 The old lady had flushed a little at his tone, but told him gravely, 
 No ; that she herself " was not a radical ; she would not choose red 
 paint or blankets as her own ordinary attire, yet she had known a 
 Whmebago squaw once who was a pleasant companion, and a loyal 
 friend." 
 
 To which he assented, not knowing at all what she meant. 
 
 After their arrival he saw them but once. Friend Blanchard had 
 gone some months before to live with Miss Burley in a small farm 
 house beyond Camden: a quaint, quiet little place; "a home as 
 well as homely," the Quakeress said. When he heard that the 
 house belonged to Rosslyn, and had been her home since childhood, 
 Garrio.k was fired witha keen impatience to see it. No spot of 
 ground had ever seemed holy to him before : but there, he would 
 find the impress of her pure, generous life ; hint after hint of the 
 years before lie knew her. He was jealous of those years; he 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 101 
 
 wanted them all, brought open to him : he wanted her past and 
 her future laid absolutely in his hand. 
 
 He was asked to dine with them,- formally, once, and had gone. 
 That Avas all. There were other people there ; he did not remember 
 whether men or women. There were some things which he did 
 remember. 
 
 When he chose this woman as his friend, he supposed that it was 
 an unknown treasure which he had discovered. He meant to shut 
 out the world, to go apart to enjoy it, to test and prove it, whether 
 it were best to sell all that he had to buy it or not. He did not 
 expect to find that all the world had been beforehand with him, had 
 assayed and tried and paid more homage to its worth than he ! 
 
 These people about her, to the very servant that stood behind 
 her chair, had property in her, he saw : there were a thousand ties 
 between them of which he knew nothing; there were J little kind 
 nesses remembered "; help given or received on one side or the 
 other ; some cheerful, friendly memory in every eye that looked on 
 her keeping a pleasant light about her, perpetually. 
 
 Ross glowed with hospitality, too, in every drop of her blood, 
 which is a virtue different from any other. The old home was hers 
 and her grandfather s ; the bit of the earth, she thought secretly, 
 which her Lord had given them, to stand upright on ; she liked to 
 welcome people to it, rich or poor Abigail Blanchard s friends, 
 from their country seats, or her own, from the alleys where she had 
 lived in the city ; she liked them to find their beds in her house 
 warm and soft, their meals delicious, no matter how little they cost ; 
 she was anxious and eager to give them all one heartsome, strength 
 ening hour to remember, if it was but one they could spend under 
 her roof; there was not a day in which she did not find some new 
 thino- to make her home fresher or more attractive. 
 
 O 
 
 " I think I m right," she said, obstinately, when Friend Blanchard, 
 knowing how small her earnings were, reasoned with her. " I am 
 no genius ; I am not peculiarly gentle or good-tempered. Let me 
 have my little house, and do what good I can in it. When God 
 opened the world for us, He took us all in, and He made our house 
 beautiful, as well as useful." 
 
 The old lady stood back after that, watching with shrewd amuse 
 ment, year after year, how the scanty earnings were made to fertilize 
 a larger and larger field. 
 
 Ross gathered a queer set of people about her ; one or two runa 
 way slaves unfit- for work ; a lame, little field-boy, a crabbed old 
 cook ; every inch of the little farm was taxed to make a plentiful 
 and pleasant home for them. 
 
 Mr. Randolph found the glimpse which he caught of this stat 
 of affairs distasteful enough. Miss Barley s life was generous, 
 wholesome and beautiful, as he had imagined, but he saw no vacant 
 
102 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 place in it for himself. After the first visit, he had not even been 
 able to see her, use what effort he might. 
 
 Left to himself, thus, the old story which Friend Blanchard had 
 told him began to haunt him. The war, while his judgment was 
 enlisted on one side, and his feelings on the other, was a dreary 
 muddle to him ; he put it away, and went back to his own affairs. 
 One inch of the oat-fields or mullen-grown clay-roads about the old 
 house at home, was more to him than this flat brick and marble 
 mass, with its million of swarming lives. He took up the old story, 
 turned it over and over, day by day. Why had it been kept from 
 him ? His father, Aunt Laura, the old negro Hugh why had no 
 hint of it been dropped by any of them ? Could any suspicion 
 ever have rested on his father for cognizance of the negro s sup 
 posed concealment of the will ? Garrick s blood checked at the 
 heart, and then tingled, like fire, through his veins. At night, on 
 the streets, and now here in this wilderness of stuffed beasts and 
 human skulls, he was busy with this one idea : the most distinct 
 and practical thought it suggested being a wish to see the negro, 
 and atone to him for his long neglect. 
 
 Coming down the crooked stairs, on to the pavement, just as the 
 setting sun threw a glare of yellow light across the streets, Gar- 
 rick heard his name called, and looking up, saw a sleigh drawn up 
 to the gutter, in which two ladies were seated. 
 
 " Miss Conrad ! " He gave her his hand eagerly, although he 
 had not been used to like her ; but it was a Kentucky face ! 
 
 She shook it, warmly. " I am sure I never expected to see you 
 alive out of the hands of either blues or grays. Not that you were 
 wanting in courage, but you had no more experience than a baby, 
 you know," said honest, tactless Margaret, opening out the tiger 
 rikins to find a seat for him. " Come out with us to see my father, 
 Garrick. It will be good for him." 
 
 Randolph sprang into the vacant place. " It will be good for 
 me," heartily. 
 
 He waited for her to ask some questions about his hair-breadth 
 escapes, but Miss Oonrad never had any more curiosity than if she 
 were made of lead. She leaned back, nodding to the driver to 
 go on. 
 
 " Mrs. Ottley, this is my cousin of whom my father has, no doubt, 
 told you that he was a Randolph, going back to the Champernouns 
 of Elizabeth s time." 
 
 Garrick s suspicious glance could catch no satire in the wide, gray 
 eye sweeping the broad street, leisurely. It was leaden as her wits, 
 he thought, and surrendered himself to be entertained by the blue- 
 eyed, dapper, chattering little woman opposite to him. 
 
 Mrs. Ottley met the Randolph with his roots in the Champer 
 nouns, as one scion of a royal stock might greet another. She her- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 103 
 
 self was a Sterratt, of York, Pa., whose great-grandfather, N 
 blacksmith, had laid out that town. The ground-rents brought her 
 in now three hundred a year. " It was not the amount," she used 
 to say, " but " Every dollar of it represented to her a sort of 
 fee of an estate which her ancestor had enfeoffed. When she visited 
 the Perkinses, the doctor s family in York, or at Cutler s, the grocer s, 
 she felt like a feudal dame descending into the adjacent cottages. 
 She and Randolph fraternized at once, and beguiled the way by be 
 wailing the war, and the disruption of society consequent upon it. 
 Garrick thought her a very well-bred and clever woman (for a 
 Northerner), by the time they were at their journey s end. 
 
 The house was one of those large, low-ceiled houses of rough- 
 hewn stone, squatted here and there through Berks and Philadelphia 
 counties, like overgrown Dutch ovens. Garrick, who had a woman s 
 eye for minutia3, noticed as they passed through the wide hall that 
 the rooms were poorly furnished, with the exception of flower-stands 
 filled with the rarest exotics. Some tamed birds, too, that fluttered 
 about the window-ledges ; and a tawny Russian hound, worth his 
 weight in gold, Garrick knew, to dog-fanciers, came sauntenng from 
 the warm inner room to meet him. 
 
 " They are trifles that amuse Mr. Conrad. He has a friend who 
 brings them to him," explained Margaret. She stopped, stroking 
 the dog s head with her ungloved hand in her slow, composed 
 manner. But Randolph saw her dull, gray eyes gather a sudden 
 liquid brilliance, and a change came on her face that startled him. 
 " Her love for that blind old man is putting a soul into her," he 
 thought, as he pulled off his overcoat, muttering to himself some 
 thing from Ariosto, how that " the horse was perfect ; that he had 
 no fault to find with the horse, except that it was dead." Then he 
 hurried into the inner room, with a vague idea of avoiding her; he 
 had no data from which to guess what sort of life the woman would 
 develop ; whether it was a dainty spirit that lay hid in her veins, or 
 a vicious one. 
 
 He stopped suddenly in the open door. By one of those inexpli 
 cable links of memory, something in the room brought back his 
 childhood to him, one day in especial, when he was learning to swim 
 in the Cumberland. It had come and gone like an electric flash 
 before he could distinguish even its features; but there was his 
 father, the negro Hugh, and the river, with a group of lookers on 
 on the bank. 
 
 lie walked hastily forward to meet the blind old man, who had 
 started up with both hands out. 
 
 " God bless you, Garrick ! Know you ? I knew your voice in 
 the hall. I said, that s Coyle Randolph s voice, or his son s. So 
 you ve come up to join the good cause ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I ve come up to join the good cause." 
 
104 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The old map turned bis head, attentive. "You are not well? 
 What is it ? 
 
 " Yes, I m well." Garrick laughed, with an annoyed, quick look 
 about him. " But the room confused me. Something familiar in 
 it brought old times up so plainly that I lost my self-possession for 
 a moment." 
 
 " It s the open fire," broke in Conrad, triumphantly. " You ve 
 been sitting over grates in the wall ; it s the fire had the home look 
 to you. I told Meg I must hear the crackle and the ashes crumblin 
 down. I m glad I did if it give you a welcome." 
 
 " It was the fire, no doubt," said Randolph, holding his numbed 
 hands out over the blaze, but giving another perplexed look over 
 the apartment. The Streblings, the lost will, all the old story was 
 coming* freshly before him after that flash of memory. 
 
 It was a wide, cheerful room, with brown paper on the walls, and 
 brown carpet on the floor. But the westering sunlight came in 
 through half a dozen windows, and the broad glow of the fire met 
 it half way, so that the shadows were driven into forgotten corners. 
 Mrs. Ottley, in a crisp, showy, purple carriage- dress, was frisking 
 about the flowers childishly. The preacher, short and stout, was 
 drawn up squarely on the rug. Miss Conrad, still in her dark furs 
 and darker velvet cloak, stood by a window looking out at the 
 snowy field ; her head had drooped a little, which gave to her large, 
 slow-moving figure an unusual, womanly grace, he thought. A 
 little, small-featured, grave Frenchman, dressed in a suit of gray 
 tightly buttoned over his thin chest, who had been playing chess 
 with her father when they came in, was talking to her, his hands 
 clasped behind him. There was nothing familiar here. 
 
 " It must have been the fire," thought Randolph, and put the 
 matter away from him, turning to talk to the old man, who was 
 growing broader and stouter, and more eager with his pleasure at 
 meeting one of his own kin. 
 
 " Yes, it s chess, Garrick," in answer to some question. " I lamed 
 the trick of playing blindfold years ago, and Doctor Broderip 
 here, he s freshened it up to me, agin." 
 
 Garrick looked up curiously at the name of the famous surgeon, 
 and met a pair of light hazel eyes scanning him. 
 
 "Is he your friend?" said Broderip, in an undertone, to Miss 
 Conrad. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The surgeon instantly left her, and joined the other two men, in 
 order that he might be presented to him. He had (when he chose 
 to have it) a frank, boyish manner, which impressed Randolph like 
 the rare good-humor of a sensitive, irritable woman. 
 
 "You looked at me steadfastly," he said, as he shook hands with 
 Randolph, " have we met before ? " 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 105 
 
 " No ; but I had decided you to be a foreigner French, from yo"i 
 appearance, and was surprised to find that you were a person whom 
 I knew by reputation as an American." 
 
 " A foreigner ?" The critical eyes left Garrick s face, glancing 
 down at himself : "I lived in France for several years at the age 
 when the habits and the voice are forming. It may have had its 
 effect. I never have remarked it. But it had its effect, doubtless." 
 
 "In France? You were a boy there in France?" said Mar 
 garet, her usually grave voice uncertain and timid. 
 
 " You speak so seldom of yourself, Doctor," broke in the old man, 
 " there s a flavor of mystery about you that s very appetizing to 
 the women eh, Mrs. Ottley? But I guessed that much. You ve 
 got the tastes and habits of people civilized in another line than 
 ours ; they don t fight for idees, but sit down and enjoy. I thought 
 you d been among them as a lad. Jest as the twig is bent, you 
 know." / 
 
 Brodcrip answered neither Margaret nor her father directly, but 
 addressed Randolph, smiling, with his hazel, confusing eyes full on 
 his face. "It is our boyhood that is responsible for us, I think, Mr. 
 Randolph ? Or blood, to go further back ? Now, I did not know," 
 he added, with an amused laugh, as he turned to Mrs. Ottley, " that 
 any one had clothed my L commonplace life with mystery. What 
 little practice I have known was in the hospitals of Paris. There 
 are themes enough for romance there, God knows, but I was not 
 one of them ; a hard working, Yankee boy." 
 
 He stopped to button his glove : his hand was delicate and shapely 
 as a woman s, Garrick noticed ; he caught a glimpse of a diamond 
 solitaire that glistened in the gathers of the fine shirt-sleeve, but 
 almost out of sight ; his outer dress was without jewelry, coarse 
 and heavy. 
 
 " You have had one perquisite of being born a Yankee, at least," 
 said Randolph, with a tinge of bitterness " success." 
 
 " Yes," gravely. " I performed one or two brilliant but rash oper 
 ations in New York soon after my return which gave me my repu 
 tation. But it is factitious ; solely factitious. I have had twice the 
 success of many surgeons, whose skill in a course of practice would 
 be proved infinitely superior to mine." 
 
 " That s plain-speaking, strong enough flavored for even Meg ! " 
 said her father. 
 
 Miss Conrad s gray eyes kindled again ; she was holding her wrist 
 steady for a canary to perch on, and may have been amused with 
 it. But Doctor Broderip made a hasty step toward her, near 
 enough for the folds of her dress to touch his foot. He only looked 
 at her, however, and said hastily to her father: "You will not 
 forget your promise for to-morrow evening ? It nears my hospital 
 hour now. I must leave the game unfinished," glancing at the clock 
 in the corner. 
 
106 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Mrs. Ottley fluttered up, beaming ; " It is not probable that any 
 of us will forget. Your reunions are un grand succes, doctor ; 
 rash but brilliant, let me assure you. You spice them as no 
 woman would know how to do ; that is it, the spice the eccentricity ! 
 For instance, Abigail Blanchard is to be with you to-morrow night, 
 she is the sole relic left us of the old regime ; and her inseparable 
 friend is she coming, Doctor Broderip? who belongs to no 
 regime f " shrugging her flat chest, and lifting her eyebrows. 
 
 " Do you mean Miss Buiiey ? " said Garrick, the blood mounting 
 to his face. 
 
 The little lady looked at him keenly, and then gave a vapid laugh 
 to hide her embarrassment. "Rosslyn Burley, yes. A light- 
 hearted, sweet-breathed girl. So pleasant that you know her ! 
 Whom shall we meet beside her, Doctor Broderip?" 
 
 " Mr. Randolph ; if he will put all ceremony aside for me as I 
 would do for him," said the surgeon, holding out his hand to Gar- 
 rick with a frank smile that always won its way. It did not fail 
 now ; yet the young Kentuckian, after a cordial answer and as 
 cordial a good-by, stood at the window watching the surgeon 
 mounting into his low sleigh, and sitting behind a pair of thorough 
 bred grays, stiff and erect, his thin face reddened by the wind, with 
 a twinge of envy. Broderip was a man of his own age, yet he had 
 already left his foot-print in the world, won himself a name and 
 solid wealth, while he, when he came, after a long vigil of thought 
 and study, to take up his work, found no place, but was thrown out 
 as salt that had lost its savor. 
 
 No matter. 
 
 To-morrow, was it, that he would see her? To-morrow? He 
 stood a long time, looking out, and when he turned, found that Mrs. 
 Ottley was still discussing Doctor Broderip and his petits soupers. He 
 had opened the doors to her and other women since Margaret and her 
 father came, and her opinions had undergone a complete change. 
 More than any other man, she said, she found him congenial and in 
 need of womanly counsel in his affairs. 
 
 "But then, every body grows more human, the nearer you come 
 to them," she said. To which Margaret and her father, whose 
 guests were sacred in their absence, answered nothing. 
 
 The old preacher and Broderip had " fellowshipped," in Western 
 phrase, since their first meeting. The surgeon s vivid, unequal talk 
 had the zest of good wine to Mr. Conrad, who had a surfeit on 
 Sundays of the pietudes of his brethren of the Conference, who 
 came in baggy clothes and rusty wigs, and ideas rustier and coarser 
 than both, to condole with him on that loss of* which his daughter 
 never had spoken to him. 
 
 Why Broderip should relish the old stock-breeder s interminable 
 talk that had a pungent earthy flavor in it, like that of the buckeye 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 107 
 
 woods in Fall, was not so plain. But apparently, he did relish 
 it came out, after a hard night s work, so often that a chamber 
 was set apart for him; servants began to look upon him as an 
 habitue of the place ; the old man would catch the first sound of 
 his horses hoofs, and go out to meet him, whistling and flourishing 
 his hickory stick. They were together like two boys out from 
 school. They worked, and grew anxious alike over first one, and 
 then another plan for draining, or subsoiling. The man was one of 
 those whom it is natural to indulge ; and even old Lotty, the cook, 
 caught an idea of his whims, and humored them as far as she was 
 able. 
 
 " Mas r Broderip," she said, " was as fond of lyin near this fire, 
 and eatin cake an sirups, as a chile of her own." She and Mar 
 garet took care that neither fire nor sweetmeats were lacking. 
 Yet, with all this, Hugh Conrad used to rub his bald, low forehead 
 doubtfully when the surgeon drove away. " Mrs. Ottley calls him 
 a quiet, well-bred gentleman, Meg. But he s not quiet ; he s not 
 well-bred; though I ve a curous affection for him. A curou? 
 affection." 
 
 At another time he said, " I wish I could have a look at that 
 little fellow s face. I d understand him better. With all his open, 
 boyish ways, he reminds me of the water of the Mississippi : clear 
 atop but thick mud underneath. Yet I never hankered after the 
 society of any man as much, I ll say that." To which Miss Conrad 
 answered at random. She did not show her usual rough acumen in 
 judging of Broderip. 
 
 With regard to herself. Doctor Broderip watched her at first 
 with what he called an amused curiosity : because he had met no 
 such woman among the trained, delicate young girls in Philadelphia!! 
 or New York society. 
 
 There was a chalybeate spring in a field through which he used 
 to pass on his way to town from the farm-house. He was a fanciful 
 man : fond of subtle analogies ; this spring reminded him of Mar 
 garet. It was the very emblem of power, stifled and ineffective. 
 It forced itself up only to ooze uselessly through the baked clay, 
 and to turn the whole field into a muddy, sullen marsh. 
 * Broderip used to stop his horse to look at it. " If it only had a 
 free channel opened for it," he used to think, " it could flow warm 
 and deep, and healthfuller than any other water, straight to the 
 sea." A commonplace, harmless fancy enough, but something in it 
 always goaded him into a moody ill-temper. The patients in his 
 hospital paid the penalty ; and they knew they would pay it as 
 soon as they saw his thin, scowling face at the ward doors. Such 
 moods were not rare. 
 
 To be just to Broderip, however, we may mention here that there 
 was one room into which he never was known to come without a 
 
108 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 cheerful smile and pleasant words ; it was the ward from which he 
 received no pay ; there was a sort of honor in his queer, unequal 
 brain that made it impossible for him to insult men who received 
 his charity. Whatever his temper may have been elsewhere (and 
 it was often simply brutal), before them he held it down, and kept 
 it out of sight, 
 
 On this evening, after leaving the farm-house his horses and the 
 boy who sat beside him very soon discovered that he was in an 
 unsafe temper ; though he sat silent, his eyes half shut, his thin, 
 sallow face set against the wind. Maxon, the toll-gate keeper, for 
 whom Broderip had every day some bit of chaffing or joke that 
 started the old fellow to chuckling for an hour, gave him his change 
 without a word, after a look at his face ; when the off horse shied 
 at a post in the road, and broke his trace, he did not speak, but sat 
 motionless while the boy tried to fasten it ; usually he would have 
 jumped out to do it himself, have sworn and cursed at the horse, 
 handling him as tenderly as if he had been a woman, and then in 
 again whistling or humming some of his perpetual opera airs ; for 
 he was vain of his weak, shrill voice, and sang constantly, while 
 t alone. 
 
 It may have been the weather that had taken the spirit out of his 
 veins, as it had the electric vigor from the air ; he was susceptible 
 to such influences. It was that most melancholy of seasons when 
 Spring begins to put forth futile, feeble fingers into Winter. The 
 air was raw and wet, it penetrated with a thick, unwholesome damp 
 to the very bones ; the half-thawed snow lay in muddy patches in 
 the roads, the tops of the low, wind-beaten hills ran over in melting 
 yellow clay, while their rutted sides began to put on a sickly green, 
 
 But if the discomfort and barrenness of the day had touched 
 Broderip, he showed it by not even a glance to one side or the 
 other ; sat immovable as they drove rapidly into the city through 
 the crowded streets, answering with a quick nod or grave mono 
 syllable when he was stopped once or twice by the anxious friends 
 of patients. 
 
 He alighted at the door of the hospital ; two of his pupils, who 
 were waiting on the steps, coming forward to meet him. 
 
 He made no answer to their greeting, but passed hurriedly in. 
 
 "An I wish ye joy of the devil ye re a following gentl men," 
 chuckled the boy Bill, as he covered the horses. " I m shet of him 
 fur an hour." 
 
 He did not visit the pauper ward that evening ; in the others the 
 two young physicians followed him from bed to bed, paying exag 
 gerated deference to his few constrained instructions, falling back 
 now and again to shake their heads significantly, keeping as uneasy 
 a watch on his sallow, sober face as if the boy had spoken the 
 literal truth, and it was the devil that had them in charge. \ They 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 109 
 
 grew more uneasy as the time came for the single operation of the 
 evening, on young "Withers, whose leg was to be amputated, and 
 who had been on low diet now preparing for it for a month. Brod- 
 erip s needless cruelty when in these moods, a hint of which had 
 reached even Mrs. Ottley, was too often a painful reality to the 
 young men. 
 
 " lie s always dangerous when he s dumb," said one of them, 
 George Farr, when they went aside for lint and bandages. " Like 
 any beast of prey " 
 
 Then he stopped with a blush, for the surgeon had been kind to 
 him ; had taken him without a fee, and once when George had been 
 drawn into a bad set, had paid his gambling debts, and taken him 
 out of the station-house one night, keeping it quiet " for his mother s 
 sake." It had been the salvation of Farr : the hand stretched out 
 just as he was slipping into the pit. He followed Broderip after 
 that, like a spaniel ; quoted him to whoever would listen to him ; 
 imitated his manner and his dress. But being a weak-nerved, dys 
 peptic boy, he was in constant terror of these savage moods, and 
 almost as much in awe of the gayety, like drunkenness, which often 
 succeeded them ; both were something which he could not under 
 stand. 
 
 " He s been keeping Sam Withers family since the night of the 
 accident, to my certain knowledge," he said to the other student, 
 Hubbard, trying to blot out his last words. But his pale, blue 
 eyes turned frightened away, when Broderip drew down the sheet 
 from the crushed leg. The surgeon, he knew, usually thrust a man s 
 life about with his knife and saw-edge as if it were of no more value 
 than a gad-fly ; but there was relish, an actual gusto, in his small, 
 colorless face as he cut to-night into this man s flesh ; even George 
 Fair s partial eyas saw that. He hacked it cruelly, as if it were his 
 enemy that lay before him, his lips tight shut, his light eyes in a 
 blaze. Even Hubbard, wJio was a big bully of a fellow, pulled at 
 his moustache, losing color, growing more subservient to Broderip 
 every moment. 
 
 Farr could bear it no longer. He shivered, shaking back his red 
 hair, for he was a miserable little coward, physically, but he looked 
 up from where he stooped, holding the sponge filled with ether to 
 Withers mouth, straight into the surgeon s set face. 
 
 "Is your hand steady, Doctor Broderip? "in a meaning voice. 
 ." Sam s life is most run out, I think. He s had such a tough work 
 to keep it, it s a pity we d let it slip for him. He s been a cursedly 
 hard-worked fellow Withers." 
 
 For he knew how to "manage his man. 
 
 The knife stopped an instant : Broderip s irascible eyes con 
 tracted sharply, as a man s that is waked from a half sleep. 
 
 "There s no danger of his dying, damn him," sharply. 
 
110 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 After a while " Hard-worked, eh ? " under his breath. His 
 fingers moved after that with a skill and precision that held Hub- 
 bard breathless, for he was an enthusiast in his profession. 
 
 When it was all over, and Withers, safely back in his bed, opened 
 his eyes slowly, the surgeon s face was the first they met. 
 
 " It s all right, young man ! " he said, cheerily. 
 
 " I ll never forget the face and tone with which that man welcomed 
 me back to life ! " Sam was used to say afterward, when he was 
 telling the story over for the thousandth time. 
 
 " What a fellow you are, Farr ! " said Hubbard, as they were 
 walking down street that night away from the hospital. " You ve 
 always some crank in your brain about Broderip, as if he could 
 have had any ill-will to Withers ! " 
 
 George Farr was stroking his thin sandy jaws thoughtfully. " I 
 did not think he had any ill-will to Withers," he said, dryly, as if 
 the subject had ceased to interest him. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A MAN S EIGHT. 
 
 THE day that followed was warm as May. A mellow south 
 wind swept away the few ragged snow-clouds that remained, with 
 scorn, as if they had been the skirts of defeated Winter. The 
 watery blue sky began to thaw into Summer tints; heated into even 
 saffron and scarlet about the setting sun, and when he was gone, 
 softened into faint blushes of mist about the horizon, as if to receive 
 the benediction which the clear pale moon, floating up the west, 
 brought with her. 
 
 The Avindows of the long suite of drawing-rooms, in Doctor 
 Brodcrip s house, which opened to the south, were open ; the 
 curtains waving softly to and fro in the warm evening air, the lights 
 burning in the chandeliers dimly within. Outside there were plats 
 of grass, with here and there a crocus opening . too early its leaves 
 like flakes of dulled, forgotten sunshine. The windows of the 
 green-houses were pushed up, and the heavy breaths of the heli 
 otropes and jessamines crept out and made the thin air sentient 
 with perfume. 
 
 An old Scotch gardener, with a felt hat over his sandy, canny 
 face, was leisurely peering about the garden slopes, breaking off a 
 bud here and a branch there. One or two dogs were rolling over 
 the grass ; a chubby-faced, black-haired boy shouting to them from 
 the low window. 
 
 lie was one of Broderip s pets ; for the surgeon had readied the 
 age when a man s love of children instinctively is strongest, and he 
 gratified it as he did all of his whirns. There were two or three 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. Ill - 
 
 other boys in the house, children of paupers who had died in the 
 hospital. Mr. Ottley had remonstrated with him, perceiving how 
 quickly his jealous, keen affection developed. 
 
 " I would not allow myself to adopt a child of vicious parents," 
 he said. "You are storing bitter disappointment for your old 
 aire." 
 
 " Perhaps, perhaps," Broderip had said, drawing the boy s long 
 hair through his fingers as he stood between his knees. "But 
 Philip must have his chance. Eh, Phil ! " putting his thin lips to 
 the boy s red mouth. His face had a jaded, vacant look, new to it, 
 Mr. Ottley had fancied. 
 
 " Why does not the man marry and have wife and children of 
 his own ? " he thought, angrily, for, like all men who knew the 
 little surgeon in private, Ottley had grown attached to him. 
 
 This had occurred a day or two ago. This evening Mr. Ottley 
 came in again, on his road home to dinner, after his daily drive. 
 He stopped to look at the premature crocuses, to chat with the 
 gardener, Stephenson, and to romp with Phil and the dogs ; then 
 he sat down in the dim, luxurious rooms, looking critically at the 
 bronzes and marbles as they grew clearer in the dusky light, be 
 coming more discontented with his own new house. " Broderip 
 furnishes as an artist paints," he muttered. " A little dramatic in 
 his effects, perhaps, but he gets at the gist of the matter as none of 
 us do." 
 
 lie half-dozed, while waiting the surgeon s leisure; he had seen 
 him as he passed the left wing of the building in his office, standing 
 writing at a desk, the long, gray coat almost touching his ankles, 
 his sallow, unsmiling face half hidden by the lank locks of black 
 hair that fell over it. He came in, presently, through one of the low 
 windows, and after he had roused Ottley, stood in it, holding back 
 the curtain to catch the evening air. 
 
 " You ve had a hard day s work, Broderip," seeing his strained, 
 anxious face. "I came on business, but it can wait. The other 
 surgeons have left that case of which Farr told me, to you, he says. 
 There is barely a chance ? " 
 
 Broderip moved irritably; he tolerated no intrusion into his 
 practice ; it was his own domain, where only, perhaps, he breathed 
 free, and reached his full stature. "There s a chance, nothing 
 more," he said. 
 
 But Ottley was not to be thrust aside. Broderip in private was 
 but a sickly, moody fellow whom he liked as he would a woman ; 
 but for the cool, skilful surgeon he had a sort of curious awe, as 
 wielding a great power in a world which he had never entered. 
 
 u If you succeed, it will be a thorough triumph over those 
 fellows ! " rubbing his fat little hands together. 
 
 "What does that matter?" impatiently. The patien 4 , was a 
 
112 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 practical, influential man ; hundreds of human beings were bettered 
 daily by his presence in the world. The surgeon thought of this, 
 and thought how that his life hung on one movement of his o\vn 
 thin fingers. 
 
 " He s a good man," he said, with a shudder. " It will be a loss 
 if he dies. Come in and dine with me, Mr. Ottley. We can talk 
 of your business over the table." 
 
 Ottley hesitated. Broderip s cook was imported with as much 
 care as his wines, and the lawyer was a bo?i vivant in a quiet way. 
 But he shook his head. 
 
 " No. We are all to be here this evening, and you need rest. You 
 are working too hard, Broderip, much too hard. It was a trifling 
 matter I wanted to mention. I know you are down in Washington 
 sometimes, and have the control of a good deal of patronage ; friends 
 at court, I suppose, eh ? " 
 
 " You have a friend that wants a place ? " smiling and drawing 
 closer, for he was a generous man, and liked, too, to play the patron. 
 
 " Well, no, not a friend, precisely. It s a young fellow in whom 
 Mary has taken an interest (after an hour s acquaintance by the 
 way), and she persuaded me to call on him this morning. He s a 
 young Kentuckian; came up here to enter the army; one of the 
 Randolphs from Pulaski County." 
 
 " Randolph ? Yes. I met the man yesterday," said Broderip, 
 gravely, patting the dog that stood by his knee. 
 
 " Ah ? A fine young fellow, I think ? Gallant, scholarly. He 
 belongs, too, to one of those sound old family stocks that have a 
 hereditary pride in keeping their record clean. Well, he s waiting 
 here with empty hands, and is anxious enough, I suspect." 
 
 Finding that Broderip remained silent, he continued, with a con 
 scious awkwardness, " Randolph has been a hard student. I think 
 there s a slight stiflhess, an old-fashioned mannerism about him ; but 
 lie s a handsome dog ! A pair of truthful, blue eyes that won my 
 wife at once. By the way, she fancies that there is a woman in the 
 case." 
 
 " It is probable," still stroking Don s silky ears. 
 
 " Well," said Ottley, leisurely flecking a bit of dust from his 
 sleeve, " I am boy enough still to take an interest in a love affair, 
 I ll confess. I d be glad if I could assist in placing the young 
 fellow, if it would help him to a home and wife of his own. They 
 lire the birthright of every man." 
 
 " Of every man ? " looking up sharply. 
 
 " Yes," something in the doctor s face made him answer, gravely, 
 " I think so ; unless, like you, he voluntarily gives them up," with 
 an embarrassed laugh. " But that is not the point." 
 
 " No. You wanted me to assist this Randolph ? " 
 
 " Yes. But I lay no stress on the matter, Broaerip, understand. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 113 
 
 lie is a mere chance acquaintance ; but you have helped me with so 
 many poor devils, that when I want to be benevolent, I turn to you 
 as naturally as Aladdin did to his hantern." 
 
 There was no smile on Broderip s face. It was immovably calm 
 and grave. 
 
 " lie wants to enter the army ? With what motive ? " 
 
 " To uphold the Constitution, I suppose," replied Ottley, tartly. 
 " Certainly not for the abolition of slavery. Men like that are not 
 to be made the tools of New England radicals and agitators." 
 
 He changed his position, his face reddened, he pushed his coat 
 open. 
 
 "Then you think," said Broderip, quietly, "that the war will not 
 result necessarily in that ? There will be no change in the condition 
 of the slaves ? " 
 
 " God forbid ! Why, sir, emancipate them and where can you 
 stop ? We will be asked to jostle at the polls with negroes, bring 
 them to our tables, marry them to our daughters! Besides," lifting 
 his hand when Broderip would have spoken, " the two races differ 
 differ vitally. If you attempt to put them on the same plane, it 
 will end in the destruction of the weaker. There is not an Irish 
 hodman, or Dutch mechanic who does not know the negro is his 
 inferior, and will not join to put him down if he tries to compete 
 with him in free labor. It is the old story of the earthen and iron 
 pitcher. But it is common sense and philosophy also. Don t you 
 understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, I understand." After a pause, he said persistently, as if he 
 had failed to comprehend Ottley s full meaning, " You have a good 
 deal of foresight as a politician, Ottley. Do you think that the 
 time in this country will never come when the negro will have a 
 chance to make the man of himself which God intended him to be ? " 
 
 " God, sir, intended him to be a servant in the tents of his breth 
 ren." 
 
 Broderip smiled, and Ottley raised his voice. " The defects are 
 inherent in his blood which will keep him down. He is indolent, 
 treacherous and sensual." 
 
 Broderip did not raise "his head. "A bad record certainly. But 
 as neither he nor his ancestors have ever owned a family name, and 
 as he changes home and wife with every change of master, the lack 
 of that hereditary pride in keeping his record clean of which 
 you talked may have something to do with it." 
 
 Ottley turned a puzzled face on him : " I did riot know you were 
 a radical, doctor. Well, the sum of the whole matter is, that there 
 is no chance for the black man here. Never will be. Give him 
 his liberty, enact what laws you please, you never can eradicate 
 the caste prejudice: the instinct that separates the races." 
 
 Broderip rose hastily : " Instinct ? instinct ? That is it," he walked 
 8 
 

 114 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 uncertainly across the room. " I recognize the truth in that. You 
 have touched the root of the matter." 
 
 He was silent so long that Ottley moved impatiently. 
 
 "We are forgetting our friend Randolph," the surgeon said, 
 leaning on the back of a chair : " the man who wants me to help 
 him to his birthright of home and wife ! " 
 
 Ottley came back with a touch to good-humor : " Yes. Now, 
 there are some men whom one would suppose nature never intended 
 to need a birth-right ; " glancing over the thin gray figure and sal 
 low, bitter face before him, grave and austere as a Romish priest s ; 
 "but this young fellow, I think, will appreciate both to the full." 
 
 The twilight without was darkening. Broderip waited until a 
 servant passing through the rooms, had closed the windows, and 
 brightened the gas-light ; then he said, still standing and keeping 
 his hand on the dog s head, " I think it a curious coincidence that 
 you should have asked a favor of me for this young fellow, Ottley. 
 I saw him last night, and I am full of superstitious fancies, as you 
 know I thought it safer that I should avoid him." 
 
 Ottley looked at him bewildered. 
 
 Broderip hesitated : passing his hand quickly over his face. 
 When he spoke, it was slowly, choosing his words with difficulty. 
 "There is a class of men with whom it is better I should not 
 come in contact. They did not help me or mine in life as they 
 might have done." There was a curious, grim smile on his face, as 
 if some subtle meaning lay in his moderated words. " In fact, I 
 owe them so little, that it is hardly fitting that one of them should 
 come to me for largesse or bounty." 
 
 "But this Randolph?" 
 
 " I have no personal ill-will to that boy ; what could I have ? 
 Yet, yesterday, he seemed to me to be the very presentment and 
 type of these men who were not my friends. He has all their traits, 
 for good or for evil." 
 
 Now, Ottley had a vague notion that the surgeon was holding 
 some unwonted emotion out of sight under the monotonous quiet 
 of his words ; and he had the same kind of respect and tenderness 
 for the little man s whims, and unreasonable antipathies, that he 
 would have had for those of a child, whose brain was unnaturally 
 forced and diseased ; he rose at once, buttoning his coat, preparing 
 to go : "If you have any such fancy about the young man, doctor," 
 he said, heartily, " I will not press the matter. I am only sorry 
 I mentioned it. Put it out of your mind altogether. You owe 
 nothing to him, or his kin, whoever they may be." 
 
 " No ; that is true ; I owe them nothing." 
 
 As he walked to the door, Ottley saw, when they came under 
 the light, that his face was quite colorless, and his hand, when he 
 touched it, was dry and cold. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 115 
 
 He held it a moment kindly. " These people will not be here 
 for an hour or two. Go and sleep, Broderip. You re overworked. 
 You will run yourself down faster than you think." 
 
 " Yes," uncertainly. " But about that Randolph, Ottley ? Give 
 me to-night to think of it. I could find him a place with ease, 
 if I chose." 
 
 " I would not do it," said Ottley, as he stepped out on the steps, 
 on which the moon was now gleaming brightly. " I wouldn t do it. 
 You have enough to think of, with men s lives daily depending on 
 your coolness and judgment, without taking this young man s for 
 tune in hand. Especially as you have conceived this antipathy to 
 him." 
 
 " I ll think of it. I ll let you know to-night," he said, abruptly. 
 
 As Ottley sprang into his buggy and drove ofl , he looked back 
 once or twice at the steps where Broderip stood in the moonlight, 
 with his hands clasped behind him, looking vacantly down the 
 lonely street. His face and little, lean figure in its queer, old- 
 fashioned clothes, made him look oddly like a boy who had been 
 forced into a man s trouble with his dress. 
 
 " One would think he fed on opium, with his unreasonable likings 
 and antipathies," said the lawyer, impatiently, glancing down a 
 moment after, complacently, at his own pursy, comfortable little 
 person. 
 
 Broderip stood motionless for a few moments, then, as if prompted 
 by some sudden idea, he turned and went in, hastily ascending a 
 flight of stairs, and passing through a long corridor to one of the 
 rooms which had been set apart when he bought the house, for his 
 mother s use. He tapped at the door. 
 
 " John ? " said a quick, piping voice within. 
 
 " Yes, it is John." His manner, even his voice relaxed as he 
 crossed the threshhold. 
 
 It was a large, cheerful room, with an open, blazing fire and soft, 
 shaded lights, but there was an excess of color and luxury in its 
 appointments which jarred on the eye. On one side of the fire a 
 low lounge stood, the small, pale face of an old woman rising out 
 of an untidy heap of red silk quilt and white pillows. Her gray 
 hair was straggling down, the lace cap was askew, one white, wrin 
 kled hand moved restlessly, disarranging the newspapers and 
 pamphlets scattered about her. 
 
 " Wheel the table closer to the fire. Doctor Broderip will dine 
 here," she said to a servant. "That is for my own comfort, John," 
 turning to him. " The days drag, when one lies here, half dead," 
 tapping on her left hand which lay motionless and covered, with 
 her right. " They drag. Sit down there, opposite to me." 
 
 She raised her head as she spoke, sharply inspecting the little 
 table, then put out her hand touching the delicate napery, the 
 
116 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 heaped flowers and grapes which caught the light like crystals of 
 sea-green and purple, the glass thin as golden bubbles ; she had the 
 eager delight in her face of one to whom wealth and its comforts 
 were a novelty. Broderip watched her with a diverted smile : they 
 were necessities to him, but to her always would be luxuries. She 
 caught his look, and her faded, blue eyes twinkled. 
 
 " I know. It s weak. But they smooth the way down ; they 
 smooth the way. And it s the contrast with old times ! Now, 
 you forget what we have been." 
 
 " Am I likely to forget ? Do they give me time ? " The quiet 
 amusement faded out of his face, and he looked steadily down at her 
 from where he stood on the hearth rug. 
 
 She took up a newspaper, fluttering the pages uneasily, and 
 watching him furtively, but asking no questions. 
 
 " Words, words ! " after reading a scrap here and there, in a pip 
 ing tone. " The old constitution ? The bird has grown too large 
 for that shell, eh, John ? " 
 
 " I am no politician. Why should I be ? If " 
 
 She put out her hand to touch his, and let it fall, irresolutely, her 
 jolly, shrewd, little face filling with uncomplaining trouble, the 
 dregs of some old, assured pain. " Poor boy ! Is it there the hurt 
 lies? " 
 
 John looked down at her, thinking he was a brute, to come whin 
 ing to her. Then he pulled a low stool near the lounge, and sat 
 down, unlacing his shoes, and thrusting his feet into a pair of slip 
 pers which she had in readiness. 
 
 " Ha, that s comfort ! The old hurt galls a little, at times," he 
 said, cheerfully. "But we must look for that, you know. No mat 
 ter what work or study I begin, the remembrance comes that there 
 is something here" (drawing one finger across his forehead), " which 
 must one day come to light. Let me make my life what I will, it 
 is a thing which the vilest ruffian in Moyamensing prison would 
 not exchange for his own. I cannot help thinking of that. No." 
 His face had dropped between his palms, and, with the hot fire red 
 dening it, it looked still more like that of a weak, uncertain boy. 
 
 She held her one hand over her eyes, her lips moving, but she 
 said nothing. Whatever his pain was, the mother-soul in the pal 
 sied little body tasted it, bitter as it came to him. He looked up 
 presently. 
 
 " Why ! why ! " hurriedly taking her fingers, and chafing them 
 in both hands. " After all, it never may happen, or, or it may be 
 years at least before it comes. We will forget it now. Let us talk 
 of something else." 
 
 "No. There was a chance I thought of Give me a drink, 
 John, there is water on the table. There was a thing I have wanted 
 to tell you of," as he lifted her, holding the glass to her colorless lips. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 117 
 
 " There is no chance," quickly, as he gently laid her down. " I 
 have thought of it for twenty years. God knows if I have tried, 
 day after day, to be like other men. No ; I was forced, as this dog 
 here, into a brute body. No matter what brain or soul is in it, it 
 cannot be done away. It is better not to talk of it. But we have 
 had hard measure ; eh, Don, old fellow ? " with a miserable, boyish 
 Binile, pulling the dog closer to him. 
 
 She put out her hand, covering his thin jaws, as though the sight 
 of his face was more than she could bear. 
 
 " John ! " she cried ; " John ! " 
 
 He bent over her. " Kneel down here, close I m weak-witted 
 and silly," her eyes wandering. " My brain s half dead with the 
 rest. To think what help he needs, and that he has nothing but 
 me ! " and the commonplace little face lost all trace of its absurdity 
 with its great humility and pain. Broderip stroked back the rough, 
 white hair gently. 
 
 " I think you have forgotten all that you have been to me," he 
 said. " I know nothing of the God of the churches, but you I do 
 know. You have been humane and just to me." 
 
 " That is blasphemy." 
 
 "No; it is fact. Who dealt hardly with me, if not His people? 
 But you " He smiled down at her, an unspeakable tenderness 
 and sincerity in his look which should have made any mother con 
 tent with her work. 
 
 Yet there was a great gulf between the ignorant, feather-brained 
 woman, and the man to whom God had given ten talents wherewith 
 to help the world, if not to work out his own salvation. She knew 
 that,-and spoke with hesitation. She never had advised him since he 
 was a ,boy. 
 
 " I have something to say. But I have such poor words. Some 
 thing like this, John. When I was young, I used to think if ever I 
 had a son, I would want to see the true man in him grow out of all 
 likeness or traces of his lower nature. Just as the soul in Don 
 here will come out clean and whole from his brute body, some 
 day." 
 
 " In Don ? Don f " eagerly. " I understand ! " 
 
 " In all of us," growing paler. " We all have an ugly, loath 
 some shell to creep out of, vices and passions left by some accursed 
 old grandfather in our blood. I used to think that, if I had a son, 
 I would work for him, I would wear God s patience out, until I had 
 helped him to his true manhood." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She looked down now, avoiding his eye ; they both were silent. 
 Whatever their secret was, it rose barely between them, and neither 
 of them faced it. It was noticeable, too, that, with all the pity and 
 awe in her face, she neither held his hand, nor touched his hair, nor 
 
118 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 made use of any of those little mute signs of affection to which 
 mothers are so prone. 
 
 ; " I thought," she continued, " that when I had done all I could 
 for my boy, I would thank God if He gave him one gift, better 
 than any." 
 
 The surgeon moved suddenly, his face growing pale. 
 
 " The one thing," raising her voice, " which would develop and 
 educator him as no books or travel could do. It is the way by 
 which God oftenest shows Himself to women, and to men who are 
 like them." 
 
 Broderip did not speak for a moment ; then he rose slowly, as if 
 his limbs pained him, and resumed his old position in front of 
 the fire. " What do you mean ? " he said, in a tone of constrained 
 quiet. 
 
 " I mean love, John. A strong, good, human love." 
 
 She looked steadily at her dead hand lying livid and motionless 
 on the paper ; whatever pain or loss that sight meant to her, had 
 grown stale from custom. But she could not look at John s face. 
 She did not look at him, even, when, finding that he made no 
 answer, she went on, after clearing her throat, her double chin quiv 
 ering a little : 
 
 " I would have given to my boy, if I could, a wife and children. 
 Yes, I would ; a man has a right to that, no matter what other pri 
 vations he may have to bear." 
 
 She held her breath to listen, the fingers of her shaking left hand 
 wandering over her face. For a moment there was silence, then 
 she heard him take one step closer to her. 
 
 " You seldom speak at random. Do you mean me ? Me ? " 
 
 The hand grew suddenly still ; her breath came hurriedly ; her 
 eyes wandered, frightened, to the ceiling, to the cheery fire, to the 
 darkness outside of the window everywhere but to his face. 
 
 " I said," doggedly, " that a man had a right to be loved, to have 
 a home, and wife, and children of his own. A right." 
 
 "I heard that said once before to-night. It seems to be an 
 accepted rule in a purely moral and humane code, such as this 
 church system in the States, which is called Christianity. There are 
 some human rights, from which I am excluded by the followers of 
 that code, as it is practised, however." 
 
 " I know, John." 
 
 " Is this one of them ? Do you mean me ? " 
 
 She looked up, turning pale ; she looked at the small, stooped 
 figure between her and the fire ; at the face which had a new and 
 strangely credulous look ; at the thin lips, half parted into a smile ; 
 at the melancholy hazel eyes following her every motion with a ter 
 rible hunger and loneliness. 
 
 " You know me what my life has been. I think it has been 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 119 
 
 pure," under his breath. " You know all," with the same slight, 
 hardly perceptible motion of his finger across his face. " Do you 
 tell me that I have a right to ask a good, pure woman to be my 
 wife ? that I have a right to be the father of her children ? " 
 
 She held her eyes steadily on his face, but made no reply. 
 
 " I will trust to you for the truth. Your mind always lies nearer 
 to the true God than mine. He knows I want to do what s right. * 
 He walked slowly across the room. 
 
 " John," she said with an effort, and then stopped. " John, if 
 a woman puts her hands in yours and says that she loves, I 
 would say that He meant you for each other. I would say, to 
 marry her." She began hesitatingly, but gained boldness as she 
 went on. 
 
 He stopped in his walk, as it happened, under the gas-light, his 
 eyes burning, as though a different face than the old vehement one 
 on the pillow were before him. 
 
 " To marry her ? When she is found, I am to show her all the 
 faults of me the miserable weaknesses. I ll do that. I have a 
 beast s temper I am greedy of money I affect fashionable society, 
 God knows, these are contemptible vices enough. But if she loves 
 me, in spite of all, will there be more to tell ? May she come to 
 me, seeing only that part of me in my soul or brain for which I am 
 responsible, or must I go back and show her the hard injustice dealt 
 to me before I was born?" 
 
 She looked again at the smile, glowing now over his face at the 
 half-quenched hunger in his eyes. Was it necessary to tell a truth 
 which would give him, as he said, the position of poor Don in Jife ? 
 He had been such a good, manly boy, such a loving, tender son ! 
 Was it necessary ? It would not be a lie ; it would only be silence. 
 And if it were a lie, the woman would not in truth be wronged by 
 it. The woman ? There was one, actually present to his mind, she 
 saw. It was no new idea which she had suggested. And with the 
 touch, her brain filled with a sudden fever of curiosity, and tender, 
 womanly fancies and surmises. 
 
 " I I hardly can advise in such a case, John. It is the man that 
 a woman accepts in a true marriage, I think, and not the faults or 
 or diseases of his ancestors. But it is not for me to judge what 
 amount of candor would be just to her." 
 
 " No ; that is for me to judge." He paused a little, and then 
 " If I ever bring a wife home to you, you will find her candor itself," 
 he said, with sudden gayety, coloring like a girl. She looked 
 shrewdly up, but checked the question on her lips, and took up her 
 paper again, while Broderip rang for dinner. 
 
 " I am starving," he said, as he sat down, and began to pull about 
 her heaped grapes, while waiting, humming the burden of some 
 street song. Her face beamed red with pleasure as she watched 
 
120 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 the sudden, light-hearted look. She threw down the paper and 
 busied herself about his dinner, tasting and scolding and clucking 
 over it like a hen about her chicks. With half of her body dead, 
 enough remained to be a terror to servants, with whom she alter 
 nately fought, and fraternized. Broderip ate, and listened with an 
 amused light in his eyes. 
 
 " Cloyne tells me that the house is open for guests to-night, 
 John ? " when they were alone. 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " That sharp-edged old rapier, Friend Blanchard, is coming, and 
 Miss Burley, the carpenter s daughter? They were detained near 
 the gate this morning, and Cloyne lifted me to the window. It is a 
 wonderful face that girl s. Ach-h ! " the ugly visage with its 
 frowsy gray hair rolling about on the pillow with an odd mixture 
 of fun and discontent. " One could bear even old age to have once 
 carried such beauty through the world." She watched him keenly 
 through all her affected grimaces. But he listened indifferently, 
 she saw, only saying that it " was an honest, unconscious face," and 
 then growing silent, and thoughtful. He sat a long time, breaking 
 the stems of the grapes on his plate, and sipping some sweet, slug 
 gish cordial in preference to the fiery wines which stood at his 
 elbow. He looked up at last, speaking sharply ; as she had looked 
 for him to do. 
 
 " If you had your hand on the throat of a man to whom you 
 owed a long debt of revenge, what would you do ? " 
 
 Her face twinkled significantly. "According to the spirit, I 
 would forgive and bless him ; carnally speaking, I always found a 
 satisfaction in paying any sort of debt, John." 
 
 He pushed his chair back. 
 
 " This man and his kin have made me what I am. Chance has so 
 placed him in my power that I could put the bitter draught to his lips 
 now, and make him drink it, drop by drop. But it seems to me it 
 would be a brave thing to do to let him go, and to keep silence so 
 that neither he nor any one should ever suspect the danger he had 
 been in. That would be what you would call noble, manly, eh ? " 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Yes ; it would. Chivalric." 
 
 He laughed eagerly. " Chivalric ? Well then, John Broderip 
 lifts the rod. So ! so ! " He began walking about the room, look 
 ing out of the window, pulling a leaf from a bouquet, laughing again 
 and again to himself. Coming up suddenly to her 
 
 " Besides, if I am to have the rights of a man, I must act as a 
 man ? " 
 
 " Yes, John." But she spoke with difficulty, and watched with 
 almost dismay the elastic step, the heat in his hollow cheeks, and 
 content in his eye. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 121 
 
 John" 
 
 " What is it ? " gently. 
 
 " I would not be confident. Remember that you build upon the 
 sand." 
 
 " So far as the woman is concerned, yes. But " he stopped, his 
 momentary childish thrill of delight over, the old, dignified gravity 
 subduing him again ; but he still stood erect, his melancholy eyes 
 on fire. 
 
 " I am listening, John." 
 
 " I did not build upon the sand in this : that, whatever God has 
 made of me, He did not hinder me from being a man. If they 
 knew all, they would put me on a par with the brute yonder. But 
 in spite of them, I could yet do for them a true chivalric deed, such as 
 you called this." 
 
 " But "doubtfully, " who will know it ? " 
 
 " I will know it. If I am to have the place of a man, I will play 
 a man s part." 
 
 He bade her good-night, soon after. As she looked after him : 
 " He is but a boy in size, and has a weak boy s mind in some ways," 
 she said. She thought anxiously, too, of the advice she had given 
 him. It was her love that had forced it from her against her judg 
 ment ; his life had been such a hard strain since his birth ; he never 
 had romped and played like other children ; even at that age his 
 eye had caught that sad, furtive glance, of one who waits momenta 
 rily for detection and insult. 
 
 " Why, he used to be afraid of even me. Such a manly, generous 
 little fellow ! " she thought, going back to the old time, to the les 
 sons she had taught, and the suits she had made for him, as foolish 
 women will. How could she tell him to-night that he was never to 
 have a man s portion, as he never had had a child s ? " But he 
 never will. Love and marriage are not for him. He should submit 
 to God s will." She covered her face with the newspaper and lay 
 quite still for a long time ; and the servants, thinking she was asleep, 
 gently lowered the gas, and left her. But she was only thinking 
 over her last words : " Was it God s will ? Was it ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE MA.X SEEKS HIS EIGHT. 
 
 " MR. RANDOLPH ! " 
 
 Garrick had been wandering through the softly lighted rooms in 
 search of his host : he saw the Ijttle, stiff, long-coated figure, now, 
 coming to meet him from a group of ladies, and held out his hand. 
 Broderip only bowed, not seeing it, apparently, but his welcome in 
 words was so eager and cordial, that Randolph did not note tho 
 
122 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 omission. Unconsciously, he still adhered to his vague idea that 
 the surgeon was a Frenchman, and consequently received his uneasy, 
 uncertain manner, and half intelligible sentences as the misfortune 
 of foreign birth. 
 
 " You are most welcome, Mr. Randolph," he repeated. " There 
 is no man living whom I would rather see under my roof, or eating 
 my salt with me. I have, too, a matter of importance to discuss 
 with you." 
 
 " With me ? " said Randolph, surprised. " Some information, 
 probably, which you desire respecting affairs in our State?" 
 
 " No ; I take bat little interest in any State as a State. This 
 world is to me only a vast concourse of sound and broken human 
 ware, and I am permitted to tinker therein for a while. That 
 is my only view of life. As for ideas of patriotism, or liberty, or 
 State rights " with a smile and shrug, " I leave them to a higher 
 class of physicians. Nations and their laws are sound and unsound, 
 as well as bodies, I presume ? " 
 
 Randolph bowed civilly, thinking what a mole-like intellect it 
 must be which could not see beyond its own petty work. A man 
 who did not care for his State ! 
 
 "My business regarded yourself, solely," said Broderip, with the 
 same repressed eagerness in his tone. 
 
 The young Kentuckian turned, surprised. 
 
 " I understand that you came North to engage in active life. Mr. 
 Ottley was my informant. He stated that you wished occupation 
 not inconsistent with your family dignity, and your own character." 
 
 If there were any sneers covert in the bland words, Garrick was 
 the last man to suspect them. " That was certainly my wish," he 
 said simply. " But," recollecting himself, with a bow, and a sudden 
 assertant politeness, " I detain you from your guests, Doctor Brod 
 erip. If the business only concerns me, suffer it to wait your con 
 venience. To-morrow, probably " 
 
 " It shall not wait a moment, young man. I must do this before 
 I sleep," with vehemence. " I have written a letter to Washington 
 to-night, which will secure you a safe and honorable place, if you 
 will accept it from me. It lies on my desk, the ink not yet dry 
 Will you come and look at it ? " moving hastily to a side-door. 
 
 Garrick followed his short, impatient steps through the long hal 
 to the door of his private office, bewildered alike at the man s offer 
 and his manner. 
 
 " It is a safe post," said Broderip, stopping with his hand on the 
 door-knob. " Civil service. Not that I doubt your courage. But 
 I must not repeat the old story of David and Uriah, eh ? " 
 
 Half an hour afterward Mr. Randolph came out of the office, hia 
 
 face flushed, and his broad shoulders thrown back. He hurried to 
 
 \ the music-room where the few guests were gathered, and after a 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 123 
 
 nervous glance about it to see if Rosslyn had yet appeared, drew 
 Ottley aside. 
 
 " I feel like a man again ! Your Doctor Broderip has found me 
 standing room," he said, impetuously, "just as I was beginning to 
 think the Randolphs were but useless lumber in the world, now-a- 
 days. This proves that I was mistaken. There is no passport like 
 a good name," complacently. " His letter showed a fair appreciation 
 of that very fair. It was one which would have pleased my family 
 with him." 
 
 "Broderip usually does a graceful thing gracefully," said Ottley, 
 dryly. 
 
 He crossed the room presently to where some young men were 
 laughing at the surgeon s pungent jokes, for he had a caustic wit 
 when he was exhilarated by society or wine. 
 
 " I thought you would not fail me," the lawyer said, heartily, put 
 ting his hand on Broderip s shoulder, as a boy might. " I m glad 
 you conquered your antipathy to the young fellow." 
 
 " Conquered it ? " Broderip glanced over at the Southerner s 
 sinewy figure and abstracted face, on which was the chiselling of 
 generations of ease and culture. " Conquered it ? " But to Ottley 
 he only said, calmly, " The boy has the head of a scholar," because 
 Randolph, as he had told him, was under his roof and eating his 
 salt. 
 
 Society was greedy that Winter of invitations to these receptions, 
 because they were given captiously, and for reasons ; and then, 
 Broderip and his house were both exceptional. Curiosity . t if no 
 higher motive, gave zest and interest to the faces of the guests ; 
 those of them, who had been there before this evening, were 
 astonished and perplexed by his manner; there was a genial, hearty 
 ring in his voice, a genuineness in his welcome, an unaffected 
 sympathy with the common mood utterly different from his usual 
 bizarre caprices, which they had begun to count upon confidently. 
 Ottley thought that he had never seen the surgeon so conventional, 
 or so agreeable. 
 
 Once he saw him, standing apart with Mr. Conrad, look beyond 
 the old man at some figure in the distance, and wondered to himself 
 whether it was love or hate that so unsealed his face, and lighted his 
 eyes. 
 
 It was Margaret Conrad that Broderip was watching. She had 
 left her father when he approached ; it had become a habit with her 
 to avoid him. He could see her, however, as she walked, leaning on 
 a young officer s arm, down the long suite of apartments. 
 
 There were no filagree prettinesses in Broderip s rooms, no glitter 
 ing surprises, or fatiguing beauty ; they were warmly colored, with 
 clear tints, large and liberal ; there was a bust here, a picture there ; 
 their meaning was pure and quiet, but unassertant, as the atmos- 
 
124 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 phere about a thoroughbred woman. You were not conscious of 
 them while present, but when you were gone you remembered them 
 as the place of all others where you could surest find a great rest, 01 
 a great pleasure. They were filled with music now a full, tri 
 umphant tone. 
 
 Broderip stood apart ; his eyes unconsciously followed the sweep 
 of Margaret Conrad s cream-colored, lustreless drapery as it marked 
 her quiet movement. The rooms had always been vacant to him 
 before ; they were filled now, never to be empty again. He thought 
 of that with a new, poignant pain of delight in his narrow chest, 
 and a scalding moisture in his eyes. He had not spoken to her after 
 her entrance. Even then the words had died inarticulate in his 
 throat. He could have cursed his childish diffidence. It seemed to 
 him as if his life hung trembling in the balance, and a breath, a 
 straw, might save or lose it. Now, when his judgment should be 
 coolest, he was left to the mercy of every breath of passion or feel- 
 9 ing. Presently, seeing that the officer and Miss Conrad appeared 
 mutually tired of each other, he left her father with Ottley and 
 ventured near her. She was beside the door of the little conserva 
 tory. 
 
 " Shall we go in ? The air is sweet as that of a harvest-field in 
 there," said Broderip, timidly. 
 
 So they stood side by side in the narrow, dim recess, with its 
 shelving roof, the wintry night sky overhead, the beds of common 
 flowers and vernal grass which his odd, simple taste had gathered, 
 about them, the door framing as a picture the light and luxury 
 within. The music had sunk to a low, intermittent sobbing, the 
 unrest of some unhopeful pain. One could find in it the baffled 
 moan of the sea, or the cry of an unloved woman. The man 
 shivered before it like a reed in a cold wind. 
 
 Miss Conrad looked at the little figure beside her, at the 
 sallow, insignificant mask of a face. Something which looked 
 v. out through it made her draw back with an undefined alarm. It 
 was a power which she had seen beneath no other man s eyes. 
 
 He turned with quick suspicion. "Why do you avoid me, Miss 
 Conrad? I was not repulsive to you when you first knew me. 
 Why do you fly from me ? " 
 
 There was an involuntary movement, like a shiver of repugnance, 
 through her slow, firm limbs, but she said, steadily, 
 
 " I was not conscious of it. Do I avoid you ? " 
 
 " Is it from instinct ? " The surgeon passed his handkerchief over 
 his forehead once or twice. 
 
 " If I could tell you why, would it be best to do it ? " knitting 
 her black brows thoughtfully, and looking at him with her honest 
 e y es e yes as honest and controlled as a Newfoundland dog s. 
 
 " I think it would be best," gravely. " I have a reason. Do not 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 125 
 
 fear that you will hurt me, either," smiling. "I am a callous man 
 by nature, and I am no longer young, as you see." But he laid one 
 hand over his chest, and shrank back into himself as he said it, un 
 consciously. 
 
 " I owe you such gratitude " remorsefully. 
 
 " I levy no taxes of gratitude," with a fierce rasp in his tone. 
 " People will tell you that only hard cash will glut my greed with 
 my patients. But from you it was scarcely gratitude that I de 
 sired from you, Miss Conrad ; " the voice was growing sickly and 
 shrill as that of one of his patients asking for draughts to quench 
 thirst. 
 
 Miss Conrad still stood dumb ; she was no more used to analyze 
 her own emotions, than when she was a sober, wide-eyed baby on her 
 father s knee ; but she usually had found no difficulty in either 
 putting a proper price-value on her companions, or in telling them 
 what it was. But she shrank from plain words with this man as if 
 it were her own heart she was going to sting and rudely chafe. In 
 one sense he seemed so feeble to her, in another, so strong. 
 
 " I have nothing to say that will hurt you," she said at last. 
 " But I will tell you the truth. I am a half-educated, blunt girl, 
 used to plain, blunt people ; you have excited, puzzled, wearied 
 me. I do not choose to suffer pain." 
 
 Red heats crept out through the colorless flesh of his face and 
 throat. " That is all ? " with a quick smile. " You will learn to 
 hate me then, because I am a stranger ? Now, when we first met, 
 Miss Conrad, I could have sworn that we had been friends long ago, 
 in some country, of our own, from which we came, and to which 
 we would return. There was not a trick of your manner, or a feature 
 of you in mind or body with which I did not feel myself familiar, 
 which was not dear to me as a friend. I cannot conceive a time " 
 slowly, and writing with his forefinger in the beds of soft mould, 
 " I cannot conceive a time, past or to come, when you were not, and 
 will not be to me all that you are now." 
 
 She shrugged her broad, white shoulders. " It has not been so 
 with me. You have humbled and pained me. I am not used, wil 
 lingly, to bear pain." 
 
 Broderip was silent. For the first time it occurred to him that 
 if she ever loved him, his fate would be hers. His own losses he 
 could bear, but hers, when the trial came to her what then ? 
 
 " I never meant that you should suffer through me. I resolved 
 again and again in these first days when I knew you, that your life 
 should never know contact with mine." 
 
 She drew suddenly back, shaken as never in her life before ; one 
 would have thought that the blood had been struck back to her 
 heart with one fierce blow of disappointment. She put her hand to 
 her forehead with an effort for breath. 
 
120 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " I wish the day when I knew you, never had been ! You have 
 hurt me." 
 
 He stooped forward, then drew back, controlling himself. " Ho\v 
 did I hurt you ? " 
 
 For the first time in her life, she made a womanish attempt at 
 concealment, and affecting a commonplace tone, said : 
 
 "You brought a strange world before me, Doctor Broderip; 
 you made me feel all that I might have been, but am not. You 
 differ from us ; from me and my people ; the difference amuses and 
 rouses my father, but it has filled me with unrest and discontent." 
 
 " This does not seem to me like hate ? " said Broderip. He 
 thought he spoke aloud, but no sound passed his thin, dry lips. 
 His fingers buried in the grass beside him, tore at it, bringing up a 
 handful of leaves of musk-plant and gilly-flowers, turning the air into 
 a spicy, aromatic breath. Pie went from her, unsteadily, letting them 
 drop from his relaxed hands, his face grave 1 , but his little frame 
 trembling with pleasure ; he put his hands over his eyes looking 
 out into the clear night, saying to himself, that this did not look 
 like hate ; that every man had a right to the love of wife and child, 
 and that his right was coming coming. Looking out and up as if 
 in the simplicity and height of his joy he were telling God of it. 
 
 Was this Margaret that waited for him? She herself felt, 
 with a helpless impatience, that some prop self-reliance, common 
 sense, perhaps had been taken from her, and she had sunk down, 
 weak and pitiable ; yet the change was nothing to a casual eye. 
 The solid white limbs had drooped into an appealing grace, a faint 
 color softened the thick, wax-like skin, her gray eyes, moist and 
 brilliant, followed him with a half angry, half frightened look. The 
 light touched dimly the heavy folds of her dress, and the scarlet 
 bands through the crown of lustreless black hair. For the first 
 time, the power of her peculiar and great beauty forced itself 
 upon him ; for men needed to be, in a measure, en rapport with her 
 to perceive it, and then acknowledged it reluctantly, so contrary 
 was it to the ordinary types. 
 
 But the surgeon was in no mood to criticise the change. It was 
 there, and it was no instinct of aversion to him that had caused it. 
 
 Coining back to her, he began to talk to her of the music and the 
 plants ; he was as usual controlled and quiet, but it was the control 
 of a thorough content with himself and her, and with the relation 
 between them. She saw, and thought it weak and boyish, but she 
 cowered before it. He drew out of his pocket at last the string of 
 rose-colored sea shells which he had found, and she had afterward 
 given to him, letting them fall over his fingers to catch the uncer 
 tain light. 
 
 "Do you notice the color?" he said. "It is but the first blush 
 of life, the tint of the dawn, or a scentless bud, meagre and chilly 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 127 
 
 Yet, sometimes I leave them on the table by my pillow, and, when 
 I waken, the morning light draw-s a curious glow from them. Shall 
 I tell you the picture which my second sight reads in it ? " 
 
 She did not answer, moved as if she would have passed him, then 
 sank back again against the wall. 
 
 " Let me tell you what that future is which I see there. No other 
 human being shall ever hear the story if you will not. Let me tell 
 you." 
 
 She looked at him ; his face was pale, his eyes held her motion 
 less. The story forced itself through them without words. 
 
 Margaret lifted her hand before her face. " Not now," she 
 whispered. " I m not as reasonable a woman as I thought I was ; 
 I do not know what this is that is coming to me. Let me go. This 
 heat, this music stifles me." 
 
 He started forward, hiding his own balked sense of disappoint- 
 merit. But she was so helpless, he thought, so pure, this calm, self 
 reliant girl ; as innocent as in the days of her childhood, not knowing 
 what it was that was coming to her lonely maiden heart. She was 
 different from these stale and gaudy young women about them, who 
 had chattered of lovers and marriage from their cradles. He was very 
 careful with her, very tender, and, seeing how pale and haggard her 
 face appeared out in the light, did not even ask her if she would hear 
 the story another day. He would not frighten her ; he could wait ; 
 he was used to waiting. 
 
 But when he had left her with her father, he made a pretext to 
 go out, and hurrying to his own room, thrust his burning head out 
 of the window into the cool night wind, stroking back the thin 
 black hair from his low, heavily marked forehead. It was no boy 
 ish glow of pleasure, nor even the gratified hope of a lover ; it was 
 a man s delirium of triumph. " It is the birthright of men," he 
 said. " It is mine mine." Tears came to his eyes, and rolled down 
 over his thin jaws. Presently he went to the fire, near which stood 
 a delicate little table of Florentine mosaic, and beside it a dainty 
 easy-chair which evidently had never been occupied. Broderip 
 touched the spring of a secret dra\ver, and drew out of it scissors, 
 thimble, all the fanciful little implements for a woman s sewing : 
 even some half-finished bits of embroidery which he had stolen 
 once from Margaret s basket. It was a boyish thing to do, and he 
 turned them over with a weak smile. He leaned his elbow on the 
 mantle-shelf, looking down at the empty chair. Many a time had 
 he stood there before, thinking that the light actually fell on her 
 smooth folded hair, and that the skirt of her dress touched hia 
 foot. 
 
 " If she ever should come now," he thought, anxiously, " she 
 might not be pleased that I had tried to counterfeit her presence 
 through these things. Some day I ll burn them." 
 
128 
 
 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Then he hid them again, and went down to his guests with a 
 still brightness in his face which made Ottley turn more than once 
 to observe him. He went from one to the other, seeking out, and 
 talking with a peculiar gentleness to the few who were neglected, 
 according to his custom, but he hardly saw or heard them. The 
 rooms seemed vacant to him, except for the figures of the wife and 
 children who were coming. But he kept the little orphan boy, Phil, 
 near him all the evening after this, and treated him with a strange 
 tenderness as if the child had almost suffered wrong. " Phil shall 
 have his chance," he said, softly. "Phil shall have his chance." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN THE ENCHANTED LAND. 
 
 OSSLYN" was grave and 
 zealous before the mirror 
 in the dressing-room that 
 evening, quite uncon 
 scious of her vanity, or 
 of Friend Blanchard s 
 amusement as she waited 
 for her by the fire. The 
 old Quaker s carnal na 
 ture had rebelled .against 
 her own brown and gray 
 clothes all her life, and it 
 took a vicious delight, 
 now, in Ross fresh, high- 
 tinted beauty and dress. 
 She noticed that Ross- 
 lyn had become oddly en 
 rapport with herself late 
 ly. She had grown sud 
 denly conscious of her 
 own failings; had bitterly 
 accused herself of being 
 useless and ungrateful in 
 her letters to her grandfather, as Friend Blanchard found from his 
 misspelled, anxious replies ; tAvo or three times, too, she had found 
 her in her room crying over the pages of her little Bible ; then 
 again she would be filled with acute vanity from crown to foot, as to 
 night when she had persisted in undoing the coiffeur s work, 
 because, she said, the gold dust he had sifted through her hair, 
 killed its lustre. She stood now, threading her fingers through its 
 delicate rings of gold which fell about her throat, and caressing the 
 small cleft chin, the blue-veined forehead and cheek all dewy fresh 
 
WAITING FOR THE VEUDICT. 129 
 
 and faintly tinged as a baby s, with a look of as keen pleasure as if 
 she had been a passionate lover of herself. 
 
 " Now, that is all class-pride in Ross ; " thought the old lady 
 excusingly. " It pleases her to think that no good thing is denied 
 to her order, although it is so low as to be out of sight of these 
 people." 
 
 Whereas, Ross idle brain was concerning itself with no problems 
 of caste, but wondering how many of the richly dressed women 
 about her had married for love ; hoping, believing, that they had 
 done so, but thinking that the women who had been chosen by the 
 masters among men had not always been the fairest or noblest ; 
 following a train of hazy fancies in which Ruth among "the alien 
 corn," and the nut-brown maid, and Maud.Muller s tattered gown 
 had place ; thinking, too, how the chosen maiden had always been 
 purified and adorned before the king came to set the crown upon 
 her, from Cinderella to Esther. " With oil of myrrh and sweet 
 odors," she said, as she looked down at the wavy folds of her new 
 blue dress, delighted with the pearly sheen on it ; and hung the 
 white lilies in her hair, which it had taken a Aveek s earnings to buy. 
 
 Mrs. Ottley, in pink and pearls, swept up to Friend Blanchard. 
 " So charmed to find Miss Burley here ! " she whispered with the 
 anxious, honeyed affability which she always had ready to screen 
 the stern face of society from the young person ; as who should say 
 to that Rhadamanthus : "What though she designed a chamber 
 wall-paper to pay her last week s butcher s bill ; yea, took the wages 
 in her hand, and paid it: What though she came up out of regions 
 unknown in your geography, yet pass her by, uncondemned : or let 
 mercy temper justice ! " 
 
 " She is becoming quite one of us," she buzzed confidentially to 
 the Quakeress, who watched her as a grim dog might a fly which 
 he was too lazy to brush away. " Mr. Ottley says her beauty is a 
 positive luxury for his eyes; a leetle slow and dull, the dear girl, 
 may be ; but then our girls now-a-days are so bookish, and musical, 
 and gayj that it is quite a relief to find one who drags a little in 
 conversation. If you could impart to her the slightest flavor of 
 manner, now, dear Mrs. Blanchard. The merest soupyon that 
 indefinable some thing," with an airy flutter of her fingers. " It 
 marks the lady, you know. But," with a sigh, "nascitur, non fit, 
 as my husband says. Poor thing ! She is so good-humored, with 
 her deficiencies ! " 
 
 " Do you mean that girl with the golden hair?" said Mrs. Wells, 
 one of two young married ladies who were discussing croup in a 
 corner. " She always seems to me healthy and happy all over ; as 
 if she had just had a good laugh, and felt the better for it." 
 
 " Rosslyn is dear Mrs. Blanchard s child," interjected Mrs. Ottley, 
 smiling down on them. " By the way, I heard it was your inten- 
 9 
 
130 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 tion to adopt her ? " with a sly look. " Society has been beforehand 
 with you, I fear." 
 
 " Society seems to have made an asylum of itself," was growled 
 from the other corner. There was a nutter and silence as this shell 
 fell. The Quakeress rose, and going gently over to Ross, made a 
 low buzz of talk about her to fend off any chance shots. 
 
 It was Mrs. Van Fitter that had spoken. There was no defence 
 against Mrs. Van Fitter. 
 
 Friend Blanchard was invincible in the endless struggles of social 
 life. She had a weapon for every antagonist; if the wit lanced 
 was keen, hers was keener. She had a reasonable life, common 
 sense, and refinement, to oppose to their like. She had a shield of 
 indifference and good-humor, on which to catch the stings of Mrs. 
 Ottley and her genus ; but when she approached the leather-skinned 
 mass of flesh robed in velvet, which sat on the other side of the fire, 
 she laid down her arms, and surrendered at discretion. 
 
 " Would javelin or battering ram affect a mud wall?" she used 
 to ask, smarting under her defeat. She stood by Ross, now an 
 angry blush at the remembrance coming to her hollow cheeks. It 
 was Caesar drowning in the muddy puddle of the Tiber. 
 
 But it was not her nerveless stolidity which formed Mrs. Van 
 Fitter s stronghold in that there was danger of competition. 
 
 The Van Fitters were old. The English tourist who lately dis 
 covered that we were a new nation, and gave the proofs in his 
 book, had not met with this family. Kortright Van Fitter was 
 one of the first Swedish settlers in Philadelphia. They could prove 
 that he settled in Wicaco thirty years before the ancestry of any 
 other city family. From that time until the present they had held 
 residence in Philadelphia. The house in which Kortright Van 
 Fitter had lived was still standing; it was a junk shop in Front 
 Street, in Southwark. 
 
 These were facts ; on these you could base a legitimate aristoc 
 racy. You could not deny that in view of them Penn and his 
 followers, and all succeeding hordes of newer-comers, were intruders, 
 and people of yesterday. They might possess wealth, culture, piety 
 and genius, but these were doubtful, transitory things ; at the best, 
 here with one generation and gone the next. But that Kortright 
 Van Fitter had been the oldest settler in Philadelphia, that the 
 family had never left it these were stubborn facts ; a birthright of 
 distinction, impregnable, and immutable, which you could not away 
 with, any more than you could deny the junk shop facing the 
 Delaware. 
 
 Mrs. Van Fitter (by blood and name, the family intermarried, by 
 rule), was a ponderous, yellow wooden tower. If there ever had 
 been joints in it, the uncompromising dignity of the race had affected 
 them, for they were seldom manifest. When she spoke to you, the 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 131 
 
 whole structure, with its hangings, the color of faded moss, the head 
 turret, with its hawk-like projections, its watery eye-windows, 
 its icicles of diamonds dangling from the sides, turned on you as on 
 a pivot, and faced you with the two centuries of the Van Fitter 
 residence looking through it. The Radical must have been strong 
 in his integrity who would meet that ghost as man to man, and not 
 quail before it. 
 
 Mrs. Van Fitter lived alone with it, in a wide rambling old house 
 in Pine Street, the second landmark of the family. It was built of 
 English brick, facing the street with dogged boldness ; with no 
 clinging green and crimson ivy, or grape-like clusters of purple 
 Wistaria, such as softened the old age of its neighbors with a hint 
 of to-day : even when the moss had tried to vail its unflinching 
 ugliness, the old woman had ordered that it should be scrubbed off 
 weekly. She abode there as on a rock, while the waves of new 
 comers ebbed and flowed about it. 
 
 Inside, there were two or three pieces of rare china, a set of plate 
 encrusted with the family crest, tattered carpets, faded old bro 
 cades ; there were wine stains on the cellar- way, relics of the dinners 
 of the Van Fitter magnates, a century ago ; there was a rickety 
 suite of inlaid ivory and gilt chamber furniture, with ragged blue 
 drapery, which was reported to have belonged to Marie Antoinette. 
 There were portraits, too, of half-a-dozen wooden-tower bodied 
 men (they had not cared to preserve their women) ; men with long 
 upper lips, and sagging chins, and black hair growing down over 
 lack-lustre eyes. Nature, it seemed, had not often taken the lib 
 erty to bring any fantastic fairy gifts of beauty or wit with her to 
 the silver-mounted cradle in the second story, in which the Van 
 Fitter babies had looked wide-awake, with their beady, black eyes 
 through life, and found no mystery in it ; while Irish Nora s urchin 
 in the garret smiled in its sleep, dreaming of the years to come. 
 
 John, the only son, was now in Paris; he had married the 
 daughter of a Market Street grocer ; " being young," his mother 
 said, and " the girl, doubtless, a scheming, indelicate person." He 
 kept her au quatribne in a shabby quartier, and with his black-a- 
 vised face and mastiff jaw, was nagging the poor little thing into 
 her grave, while he sauntered from salon to salon, too dull to talk, 
 and too miserly to gamble. Meantime the old woman decked her 
 self in her diamonds and dingy moss-colored velvet, darned her 
 caps, and starved herself and her servants, in order that she might 
 send him the meagre rents untouched. 
 
 People who had no antiquity of their own brought in hers, with 
 the cobwebs about the port bottles, to give authority to their 
 entertainments. 
 
 Now the old woman was not ill-tempered, but she had, as became 
 her, a keen scent for plebeian blood, and she had been upon Ross 
 
132 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 trail during the Winter. To-night, seeing her here, and apparently 
 enjoying her own beauty to the full, she, in the language of the 
 chase, " gave tongue ; " in a low-trained voice, to be sure, but it was 
 a hound s "tongue" no less, and summoned Tray, Blanche and 
 Sweetheart to fall upon the prey and worry it. 
 
 They did not join her; the other women secretly liked Miss Bur- 
 ley and her o*dd little house, and simple, well-cooked suppers to 
 which she and Friend Blanchard gave them such hearty welcome ; 
 besides, the little artist was too small game, any one could see, for 
 the Van Fitter blood and diamonds ; they gathered in front of the 
 fire, therefore, to keep from Ross the chatter about " the asylum 
 which society had become," and " the highways and byways from 
 which its inmates were gathered," and how that she " was jostled 
 daily by those merchants with wholesale shops who ruled us now ; 
 we would soon find tradeswomen and shop-girls in our assemblies." 
 
 Ross, deaf arid dumb, meanwhile, was pulling some bits of helio 
 trope anxiously from her bouquet, remembering that Mr. Randolph 
 had called it once a rank-scented weed ; thinking how easy it would 
 be, if she had a friend, to serve him in every trifle, to humor him 
 in even such little whims as this ; wondering would she ever have 
 a friend ? Once ; but that was long ago, long ago. 
 
 Just then she noticed that a woman s voice, which had been 
 sounding through the buzz monotonous and dull, suddenly rasped 
 louder, and she caught one or two alarmed glances toward herself. 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells came to the rescue. " Do you take an interest 
 in the Sanitary Commission, Mrs. Van Fitter ? " 
 
 But the diversion was unlucky. " None, whatever. The war is 
 a matter with which our family have no concern, Mrs. Wells. They 
 never have voted, not endorsing a republican form of government. 
 They have always left politics to the masses. Mr. John Yan Fitter 
 has been in Europe since the beginning of the war. There is some 
 thing in this carnage repulsive to a refined mind." 
 
 " Many representatives of our old conservative families are in 
 Europe," said Mrs. Ottley. 
 
 " The Southern forces, however, are made up of their best blood, 
 I understand ; they are a race of chevaliers, and prepared for war 
 by their duels and tournaments ; and I have no doubt there are, too, 
 some quite respectable families represented among the Federal 
 officers. But it is surprising that they are willing to command an 
 army of mercenary hirelings who have gone South for plunder when 
 work failed them at home." 
 
 There was a sudden, startled pause, as Ross Burley came into the 
 circle with a quick, sweeping step, her face colorless, her eyes burn 
 ing under their straight lids. " My grandfather is a private in the 
 Federal army. Did you say plunder, Madam?" in a low, quiet 
 voice. For a moment she seemed to absorb the atmosphere of the 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 133 
 
 room, and to stand out, clear-cut, against the back-ground of com 
 monplace women in her indignant beauty. 
 
 " Who is your grandfather ? " said Mrs. Van Fitter, raising her 
 eye-glass ; and, with the words, Ross, who had been half blinded 
 by her sudden passion, perceived for the first time who was her 
 intao onist. So poor and pitiable was a woman, old and repulsive 
 as this ! The girl flushed with a guilty sense of shame, as though 
 she had trodden on some of God s slighted creatures. Some day, 
 perhaps, she, herself would be old and ugly and venomous ! 
 
 She stood still a moment, and then, coming closer, held out both 
 lands, half soothing, half humbly. 
 
 " I am sorry," the color coming and going on her face and neck, 
 " I did not see that it was an aged person who spoke to me. Who 
 is my grandfather ? He is an old man who has toiled hard all his 
 life ; now, when he might have rested, he has given up the few 
 years left, to liberate men whose lot has been harder than his own. 
 He did not go for plunder. But I am afraid, madam, that you can 
 not understand," and she turned gently away. 
 
 Somehow she had struck the key-note; the room was filled with 
 the sisters and wives of soldiers ; but she did not see their friendly, 
 approving looks as she hurried over to where her gloves lay, and, 
 taking them up, went into a side room to drop down on the edge 
 of the bed, and cry in her old passionate, sobless way. Friend 
 "Blanchard took her hand and held it, without speaking, when Ross 
 \thispered, "How did she know where his gray head was lying to 
 night ? and what right had she to be there, thinking of of other 
 people who said that his poverty c was a stain which would never 
 wash away ? No doubt they all thought he went for plunder into 
 their State," the tears rolling down her cheeks. To all of which 
 vague outcry Friend Blanchard gave no reply, but listened with a 
 troubled, shrewd smile. A solid, yellow finger covered with rings 
 tapped on Ross hair authoritatively, a pillar of velvet rose above 
 her eyes when she dried them and looked up. 
 
 "I think," the heavy jaws moving unsteadily, "I think, Miss 
 Burley, I understand, perhaps, better than you supposed. We read 
 in history of many heroic deeds among among the people. At 
 any rate, your grandfather has a good little girl. I wish I had one 
 that loved me as well," and then, with an approving tap or two, to 
 which Ross replied by an hysteric smile, having no breath left, the 
 old lady moved mountainously down the Btairs. 
 
 "There is something in it, after all," said Friend Blanchard, 
 thinking of the Van Fitter two-century residence. 
 
 " Come down," begged Mrs. Ottley, patting a damp towel to 
 Ross crimson cheeks. " Only consider your eyes, my dear ! There 
 is a friend of mine here, too, whom I wish to present to you ; out 
 of the land of duels and tournaments. But I forgot, he knew you." 
 
134 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The damp towel had been effective, apparently ; the fiery spot 
 was suddenly gone ; Ross stood up, quite cool and grave. 
 
 She went down with Friend Blanchard, resolved, as she descended 
 the stairs, to live entirely for her grandfather in this world, shutting 
 out all Van Fitters, or others who would hold him in contempt. 
 She resolved it again and more vehemently as she crossed the hall 
 and saw a tall, athletic figure in the doorway, with a mass of curly 
 brown hair. 
 
 Other women had devoted their lives to their country or to the 
 heathen, why should not she give hers to the old man who loved 
 her? It was not worth so much, her life, after all ; nobody asked 
 it of her ; she was not well-taught, nor quick, nor winning as other 
 women. 
 
 They passed down the long room, Ross brown, friendly eyes 
 returning smile for smile, never turning to the doorway. But the 
 figure was there, immovable, not coming a step closer, she saw 
 that. 
 
 She was not attractive as these other women ; they were sought 
 and won ; they did not deck themselves vainly to please an eye 
 that never looked at them. They had the ten talents ; they had the 
 many cities to rule over; she had her one poor little gift her 
 beauty. If the old man was proud of it, if she was a " Sweetheart " 
 to him, he should have the comfort of it always. He never should 
 know that she had been unfaithful to him. She would give her 
 whole life to him in this world ; saying this over and over to her 
 self with a dull, desperate feeling that, for the world beyond, it 
 mattered little. 
 
 Here were the zest and juices of life ; here were the sun and the 
 wind, and the vineyards of grapes ready for gathering. But they 
 were not for her not for her. Beyond, there was rest ; but she 
 was not ready for rest, she had just begun to live and work. 
 There were some women who had never worked nor lived ; who had 
 died unloved. 
 
 They stopped to bow and smile to Broderip, who met them, and 
 then stood aside in the shadow of a bay window ; her heart ached 
 with a gnawing pain under the bunch of lilies as she thought of 
 those lonely women. She was not one of them ; she had the old 
 man yonder to love her. And yet the bitter tears rose against her 
 hot lids as if she had been one. 
 
 These fancies, common enough to most young girls, were novel 
 to Ross; they gave her proportionate sharp pain. The wailing 
 music became the outcry of her solitary, wasted life ; it meant to 
 her that she should lay it down, its work unfulfilled, its happiness 
 untasted, to go with empty hands and empty heart into that vague 
 Beyond where husband nor child should ever follow her. 
 
 But a woman s life is made up, like the old image of gold and 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 135 
 
 clay. The minute which begins with fierce questionings of Fate, 
 ends probably in tying a child s -shoe, or in the necessity of singing 
 a patient lullaby. The answer is given to her, if she Jared to 
 read it. 
 
 So Ross, because two or three people came to her to be amused, 
 found her forced smile, in spite of herself, growing natural. One 
 of them was a bashful boy of nineteen, weighted with self-con 
 sciousness to the burdened earth ; and she took him in charge with 
 a motherly pity; to be sure, she felt as if a great gulf lay between 
 them ; he was in a world which she had given up. Something like 
 a ghost coming back to help living people. 
 
 Mr. Ottley, fresh and all alive, came up to her ; the very touch 
 of his chubby little hands was somehow hearty and invigorating. 
 Ross and he had always been allies ; because, principally, they were 
 both always " present " to the moment, .ready for whatever it 
 brought whether pathos, music, fun or a good supper. 
 
 He stood inspecting the rooms and passers-by, then turned on 
 her, pulling the fringes of his moustache, his keen y black eyes on 
 her face. "What is it, Miss Rosslyn? I see clouds and rain," 
 gently. 
 
 "I think I have been in a bad humor," with a frown and blush. 
 
 " That s not all ; not all," his fingers on his chin thoughtfully. 
 " You ve been turning your soul inside out to look at it ; or your life. 
 I m sorry sorry. I thought I had found one young woman wfyo 
 was satisfied to let her internal economy alone." 
 
 Ross smiled uneasily. 
 
 " It is bad, bad ! This is it, Miss Burley," looking at her with a 
 half grave, half quizzical face. " I m a fatherly old fellow, as you 
 know, and take an interest in the young girls about me. But they 
 are all of them afflicted in a way which keeps them abed half of 
 the time, or else pining and hungry for something they have not 
 got : love, or a career. I don t know what is the matter : genius, 
 or bad livers or spines, perhaps." 
 
 " And I had neither of the three, you mean to say ? " 
 
 " Precisely. Now, you see I am not afraid to speak truth to you. 
 You re a healthy girl. The very enamel of your teeth is unbroken, 
 I dare say. Morbid longings and reveries are not the work you 
 were made for. There s no diseased overplus in your brain toward 
 ideality or causality, or even form or color." 
 
 " Neither artist nor poet, then ? " laughed Ross. 
 
 "No. Your head is too round." 
 
 " * A life of nothings, nothing worth, " she quoted, with a little 
 bitterness under the jest. 
 
 " There it is ! Little girl, let your fate alone," earnestly. " That 
 is not your affair. You must not be vexed that I thought you 
 raited for everyday work. You have the truest, most friendly eyes 
 
136 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 I ever saw. When I first looked at them, I thought, that woman 
 will be a helper in the world. Perhaps to but one man, perhaps to 
 many." 
 
 They both stood quiet for a few moments. 
 
 " I m not a church member," he said, rubbing his bald forehead. 
 " But I think we ought not to be impatient to find our place. There 
 is One who knows what things we have need of. " 
 
 " I know," said Ross, under her breath. There had not been a 
 day since she was a child that her grandfathers fancy about her 
 had not grown more real to her. He said it often, even now, " The 
 Good Man has a keer of Rossline." The words had had their effect 
 in making her what she was. 
 
 " Yes, that is my experience, though I m not a religious man, 
 Miss Burley. I tell you," after a pause, " if women knew what 
 their power was, they wouldn t sigh for a career. A woman falls 
 in love with a man as he might be, not as he is, and if she marries 
 him, she can make him that, if she pleases. That, or something 
 meaner than he was." 
 
 Ross was silent. Neither of them looked toward Mrs. Ottley s 
 fluttering pink and plumes. 
 
 " I think you will be a helpful wife, some day, Rosslyn," he said. 
 "And then, * between us, be Truth. That is a good rule for hus 
 band and wife." 
 | " I think I will be a good wife, if I marry," said Ross, gravely. 
 
 " Here is that young Kentuckian coming this way," he said, after 
 a while. " I ll leave him to you ; you are a hospitable little soul." 
 He turned to meet Randolph, whispering to her beforehand " not 
 to be bored if he did prose a little. He was a thorough good fel 
 low at bottom." 
 
 He went away a moment after, thinking that the young man had 
 
 -seemed dull and awkward, even boorish, when brought into contrast 
 
 with the girl s simple grace ; he had thought him even courtly 
 
 this morning. The few words he heard of their conversation were 
 
 formal and insipid enough. 
 
 "Washer cold better?" 
 
 " He had been amused in the city ? Had found many old ac 
 quaintances?" 
 
 " On the contrary, he never had been so solitary or so friendless," 
 and then an embarrassed pause. 
 
 The words in which a man shows to his God, or to a woman, that 
 he loves, are weakest and coarsest when they are audible. But 
 what was Ottley to know of any voiceless language between the 
 two who were paying lip service in platitudes to each other? How 
 could he know that Ross nerves grew tense at one glance which 
 fell on her, or why her delicate face grew colorless as at a stroke, 
 and the irritable nostril dilated, and the brown eyes turned from 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 137 
 
 side to side as a deer at bay ? How could he know the vague ter 
 ror with which the womanly woman put back and deferred the love 
 for which her soul was famished ? It was akin to the chill and fear 
 with which a new-born infant draws its first breath of the great 
 world s delicious air. How could any man know, that, under all 
 the pain and ecstasy of that first knowledge of what was coming 
 to her, there was an uneasy consciousness of her eyes, her mouth, 
 her shrinking person, a guilty remembrance that her hair was curly 
 and golden, and that she had heard Randolph talk of somebody s 
 locks of chestnut brown. 
 
 For it was love that silently spoke to her. Randolph threw aside 
 his sham of friendship with disgust. Having dared to tell himself 
 that he loved her, why should not she know it ? Yet, having faced 
 it, he was half shocked at the force and strength of the feeling. It 
 was the sudden leafage and blossoming of a plant which had rooted 
 itself unseen into unknown depths of his nature. 
 
 It gave utterance to his manhood; there was no thought or 
 hope which he had known, no day of the past or the future, which 
 did not find in it expression. 
 
 Boys worship an ideal angel ; but a man at Randolph s age loves 
 the woman whom the exigencies of his peculiar adult nature crave ; 
 the woman whose features, while yet unseen, his need of her has 
 taught him to limn and color. Somewhere, from the foundation of 
 the world, she has been set apart for him. 
 
 He loved her ; but he would not tell her so to-night ; he delayed 
 the exquisite, tender rapture which the future brought to him ; he 
 would inhale of the perfume of the bud before the flower opened ; 
 he would stand with his hand upon the gate, before he ventured in. 
 It never occurred to him that the flower might prove a weed after 
 all, or that inside of the gate of the future, there might lie muddier 
 paths and frozen fields, instead of the hills of Beulah whereon the 
 winds of heaven blew. 
 
 He said not a word to her of love, yet he was jealous to know 
 her every unspoken thought ; he begrudged every glance or smile 
 which did not come to him, like a bee bringing honey to its home. 
 
 As to the ci-devant little market girl, if she forgot that long-ago 
 herb-stall, or the illiterate wagoner whose basely-born grandchild 
 she was forgive her ; the world was made anew for her that night. 
 She was so happy with her new blue dress and pure lilies, her 
 delicate, rare face, her shimmering golden curls. She had brought 
 him her one little talent, and she knew he thought it worth a king s 
 ransom. She wished she could show him what lay beneath the 
 tender vail of beauty and of flesh. She had no intellect, nor accom 
 plishments, perhaps; but she would be so loyal and helpful a friend, 
 her love could be tender and fierce beyond that of women. 
 
 So they sat together, or walked through the open, almost vacant 
 
138 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 rooms, pausing where the chilly, Wintry moonlight threw fantastic 
 shadows on the floor, or the fires made pictures of home about the 
 hearth, talking meaningless words, or silent her nervous fingers 
 on his arm. 
 
 It was the spectral moonlight of the old enchanted castle ; it was 
 the firelight of most happy homes ; the mellow tones of the carpets 
 and hangings deepened in hue ; the friendly faces about them bade 
 them God speed ; the music was laden with prophetic voices that 
 called to them aloud. This was no dwelling in solid squares of 
 brick and marble; it was the country where, for a space, they 
 walked together in singleness of heart ; where the passion and pain 
 of their lives began to run fiercely through their blood, where old, 
 silly fancies of their childhood came unbidden to talk to them again, 
 bringing tears to their eyes, and seemed more reasonable to them 
 than all the experience or knowledge of later days. 
 
 Well, well ! we all know the old story of Baucis and Philemon ; 
 how a saint, sent by the good God to help the children of men, 
 began with this poor herdsman and his wife ; how, after his fingers 
 had been laid on their eyes, they saw that their hut was in truth 
 a dim and lofty temple ; how the patch of brown corn stretched 
 and darkened, into a forest, where the winds from all quarters of the 
 world cried at night, and all birds sang ; how their coarse rags 
 turned into garments of grace, betokening worth and rank ; and 
 how that, on their callous, hard features, there began to dawn for 
 each other a strange and notable beauty. 
 
 School-boys will tell you that when mortals enter the enchanted 
 land, where Rosslyn and Garrick were to-night, they are led there 
 by one of the defunct race of gods ; one in whose alleged antics we 
 find neither reason, humor, nor pathos ; he is usually pictured as a 
 blundering blind boy ; Puck without Puck s wit. 
 
 But we who have travelled out of foggy youth on toward noon, 
 where the thoroughfares are crowded, and the mysteries which meet 
 us are more real and darker than death : we can testify that the old 
 story of the herdsman and his wife is true ; that we have seen it 
 repeated in a thousand of these commonplace houses about us ; 
 have seen the magic touch laid on the eyes of selfish old men and 
 debased young ones ; upon the hard-worked mechanic and his worn- 
 out wife, struggling with many children and a small income ; upon* 
 the vain, idle girl ; upon the Magdalen herself; and, for all, the 
 tedious homes widened into a sudden palace ; the coarse, hackneyed 
 world grew generous and pure ; their own lives became, for the 
 time, heroic poems; the chance came to them, as to us all, as to 
 ROSB and her lover, to be forever true, humble, chivalric. So we 
 are tempted to leave the witless Cupid to the school-boys, and to 
 believe that the saint still wanders among men in the guise of an 
 honest human love, and that of all of His messengers sent to bring 
 us home, it is the nearest and most akin to its Master. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 139 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 DISENCHANTED. 
 
 ON the next morning Ross was astir at dawn ; her day s work 
 was done before breakfast, and laid aside ; clean, broad sheets of 
 paper in her desk ; it seemed to her, her lingers had never been so 
 firm or free, and that the wreaths were different from any she ever 
 had finished before. Everybody s work was done by noon ; she was 
 a keen-eyed mistress, and to-day she went from garret to cellar like 
 a March wind. She left sunshine and quiet behind her, to be sure ; 
 the warm, damp light coming in gladly at the open windows, found 
 cosy, bright rooms, cheaply furnished, but spotless from dust, with 
 warm, clear-tinted hangings which toned cheerfully with the rich, 
 reddish browns and yellows of the unpainted wood-work, and the 
 glittering fire-irons. There were pots, in which grew plants with 
 blue and lilac blossoms, and the gold and snuff-colored wall flowers ; 
 there were dwarf morning-glories vining over the window-panes 
 and opening their moist cups, of rose and crimson, shyly at dawn ; 
 there were tables drawn up by the fires, covered with papers and 
 books waiting to be read, and rolls of Ross neatly-folded sewing ; 
 there were bits of landscape on the walls, like windows, through 
 which you could look from the Jersey farm-house, into a windy 
 Scotch moor, or at a low sea rising under a burning sun upon the 
 patient beach, or at the afternoon shadows creeping over open, 
 green turf cleft through a thick forest. 
 
 Ross was restless ; she came up the road now, holding a shaggy 
 cloak about her shoulders, her dress tucked up from her Balmoral 
 skirt, jumping from stone to stone in the icy wagon-track in 
 preference to the beaten, safe path upon the bank; stopping at 
 different points to look at the little domain to see how it would 
 appear to a stranger, if any chanced to ride that way to-day. 
 
 Nearer town, the road was lined with genteel villas and Swiss 
 cottages, made of pine boards ; but this wa& undisguisedly a farm 
 house ; ground was plenty, the fields about it had a loose, lazy, 
 liberal way of falling into useless, dark, mysterious little jungles, 
 from which Ross, to this day, had an uncertain dread of bears ; and 
 knobbing themselves into warts of rock, which, in Summer, were a 
 tangle of partridge-berries and maiden s hair. Then there was a 
 gully filled with water, in which fish had been caught, and which Ross 
 called Burley s creek, and there was a barn, with a properly red 
 roof, at one side, and an apple orchard, with logs holding up the old 
 crooked backs, at the other, and walnut and mulberry trees all out 
 of place with regard to the landscape, and turkeys down by the 
 barn, and, on sunny days, a peacock strutting before the door. The 
 day was one of soft coloring, the sky filled with curdled clouds, 
 
140 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 f 
 
 wet and sunny, like the scum and froth of Winter s snow-storms. 
 The slopes from the house and the orchard showed a pale green 
 through the brown, powdered with white frost. The old house 
 was ruggeder and broader than when we saw it last, and had taken 
 aiore ground to itself in its old age ; but it had put on the colors 
 of the ground also, and stained its bluish-gray stone walls with 
 blackish red and green, and lichens hung about it, quiet, ragged, 
 and gray as an old man s hair and beard. 
 
 Ross leaned her chin on her hand, looking over the fence, her 
 eyes sparkling. " Would he like it ? What a foolish question was 
 that ! " After a while she drew a long sweet breath, as if she 
 could taste her happiness in it, and went into the barn to talk to 
 John about the heifer. It had been a present to her from her 
 grandfather last Christmas, and it was judged to be three-quarters 
 Alderney. Now, Ross was secretly proud of it, and glad to have 
 it to show to Mr. Randolph, who doubtless knew all about fine 
 cattle. 
 
 John, a gray-headed old fellow, with a face the color of his favor 
 ite tobacco, had seen her going to the barn, and hobbled out from 
 the kitchen fire, and stood now by the stall, rubbing his knees with 
 an aggrieved air of innocence, watching while she pulled down 
 some clean straw for Bessy s bed, and hung up the halters. Five 
 years ago John had run away (from work, Ross suspected, as 
 much as his master), and found his way to them. She kept him, 
 and paid him wages. 
 
 " It will give him the feeling of a freeman," she pleaded with her 
 grandfather. "Besides, between rheumatism and laziness he ll 
 surely starve." 
 
 " Hev yer way, sweetheart," Joe laughed. " They re a bad lot, 
 in my pinion. I m willin you an yer Quaker friends should use 
 my office in the lumber-yard to bring em to, poor devils. Every 
 man s a right to his liberty, cordin to me. I m willin to help. But 
 when they re free, I don t hanker after em." 
 
 Joe, busy with his lumber, left the management of the little farm 
 usually to Ross, and she bore the burden of John like a hero. 
 
 To-day, however, she had a reason for wishing her house set in 
 order. "The stable is untidy," she said sharply, "Uncle John. 
 Bessy s bed is foul." 
 
 " Dat am a fac," laconically looking down. " But what for ye 
 git in a passion, now, Miss Rossline ? What s de bed of de beasts 
 wurf troublin bout, so long s yer soul am still in savin reach an 
 prayin ground ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know. But I wish you would bring out Phil to clean 
 here, if your leg pains you." 
 
 " Ef it pains ? Dat s jess like de young uns, dey ve got no feel- 
 ins ! But I d be willin to overlook all yer little failins, Miss Ross- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 141 
 
 line, ef I thought ye d got de pearl ob great price. Ef ye d take a 
 week, now, an jess detarmine to c&me out ob it wid religion " 
 
 John s cloak of religion was always ready to cover the dirty 
 stable, so Ross laughed. " I ll send you out some Arnica plaster," 
 she said. 
 
 But he had the upper hand now, and was keen-witted enough to 
 know how to torment her; went to work groaning, and hofding his 
 back. " Folks in de Norf is no better dan slave-drivers," he mum 
 bled, before she was out of hearing. " What d I kum hyur fur, 
 but to draw one comf ble breif of freedom before I died ? An its 
 4 John hyur ! an John dar ! from mornin till night. Down in 
 Virginny I was among ladies and gen men, anyhow." And as soon 
 as Ross was out of sight, hurried in to tell over his grievances in 
 the kitchen, and his hopes "dat de day was near to hand when 
 de cullored folks ud be up, and de white folks down, bress de 
 Lord." 
 
 Ross went away with the red spot burning her cheek. " Some 
 times I think I ll wash my hands of the whole of them," she mut 
 tered. " They never will make themselves fit for freedom ; never." 
 
 But the disheartened feeling soon vanished ; she had no time to 
 speculate about races, or the maltreatment which their minds, more 
 than their bodies, had suffered in slavery. Once, indeed, she 
 thought, what would her new friend think of the helpless little cara 
 van about her, the lame, halt and blind, yonder in the kitchen. 
 
 " It does not matter what he thinks ! " with her decisive little 
 nod. The world was so full of need and pain, and it was such a 
 little portion of it her hands could lift ! (though when it came to the 
 weekly bills, and the undone work left for her, her hands found it 
 heavy enough, sometimes.) 
 
 "He will see it as I do; and if he does not, no matter;" for 
 Ross feet were as firm under her as ever. She went in to cut the 
 plaster herself; and then into the dining-room, where Matsy was 
 setting out the lunch-table ; a little wiry bunch of bones and mus 
 cles, with a coifee-hued skin drawn over them. The old woman 
 moved slowly about, as sweet and clean as her own butter; besides, 
 she had turned Quaker lately, having fallen heir to a heap of Friend 
 Blanchard s clothes ; a thin cap was set over the short wooly fuzz, 
 and her spectacles on top of that again, a sheaf of goose quills 
 thrust in the waist of her drab dress, to hold her knitting-needle. 
 Ross hesitated, the rose creeping from her cheek over her forehead 
 and down her neck ; then she brought a table-cloth, which she kept 
 laid away, and smoothed out its satiny folds herself over the .little 
 round table, talking to Matsy meanwhile about John s rheumatism. 
 
 " It s only natterin as ails him, honey. He s got too much white 
 blood in him, dat ar John hes. Dem sort ob cullahed folks is all 
 fermentin now, wantin dere rights. Dem s extry posies yor a 
 
142 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 cuttin for de table, Miss Rosslyn, heh ? Talkin of malgamation, 
 de Lord knows, its not de cullahed folks as ought to insist on dat ar. 
 It s on y de meanest sort ob white blood dat comes into our veins, or 
 eber has. It s not de pineapple preserbes yere gittin out, honey?" 
 
 Ross put down the glass bowl with its clouded sirup hastily. 
 " I thought a friend of Friend Blanchard s might be here before 
 lunch," she said, and went restlessly out, while Matsy followed her, 
 with a keen twinkle of her eye. " She s done lost herself, Miss 
 Rosslyn. I ll go make some Virginny biscuits. Poor little gal ! 
 I ll hev a lunch as she ll be proud of, ef dat dratted flour don t run 
 agin." 
 
 Perhaps after all he might not come. He had not said he would. 
 But they had been talking another language than words, and Ross 
 had but little doubt, only enough to send the hot and cold shiver- 
 ings through her veins, as she ran up the stairs to her own little 
 room, where her clothes lay in a snowy pile upon the bed, ready for 
 her to dress. When she had bathed, and began to put them on 
 over the fresh dewy-moist flesh, her hair clinging in damp rings 
 about her forehead, and the impalpable, clean perfume shaken from 
 their folds in the air, it seemed to her as if not to-day s, but all of 
 her life s work was done, and she was making ready for a feast- 
 day, which would last forever. She kept a watch on the bit of road 
 seen through the walnut trees ; she could see his horse there before 
 its hoofs were heard. 
 
 She thought over and over, as she curled her hair, and fastened 
 it back with a velvet snood, how she would take him over the farm, 
 and show him all her old camping grounds, when she was little. 
 What a wide world its few acres were to her then ! They were 
 half the world to the home-body, now. It never occurred to her 
 that he might not be interested in it at all ; nor did it once seem 
 possible to her now that the story of her birth, or of the stall 
 in the market, could hurt him. She thought of it, and then, alone 
 as she was, a vivid blush dyed her brow and neck and bosom, she 
 hid her face in her hands, with a sudden tremble in her lip and 
 light in her eyes that said " Why, he loves me ! " as she would not 
 have dared to put it into words. 
 
 Now that the king had come to choose her, her life seemed a 
 beautiful, innocent romance only that she never would go back to 
 the ashes like Cinderella. And then those old days were so dear ! 
 so dear ! When she had put on the blue dress, with its black vel 
 vet band turned back from her throat and wrists, and a frill of lace 
 within, she hurried down and out past the barn again, with a con 
 scious, furtive look behind, like a child who is going to do a silly 
 thing. There was a huge shed behind the clump of cedars. She 
 unlocked the door and went in. There was an open square in the 
 wall, the shutter of which was thrown back, and by the light of it 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 143 
 
 she could see the old Conestoga, with its canvas top, yellow from 
 age, and the red body woven over .with spiders webs. 
 
 Joe had refused to sell it again and again. " It s worth nothin 
 but firewood and old iron to you," he said. " But it held somethin 
 in it that wur worth more nor all I ve got now, to me. Not " he said 
 to Rosslyn afterward^ "that you ain t as dear to me now as then, 
 sweetheart, an I m mighty proud of ye. But that little yaller- 
 haired gal as used to sit on the bags at my feet ther, was altogether 
 mine." 
 
 But Ross, with the new life coming to her, clung jealously to the 
 old, and took it with her ; she touched the old wagon softly as if 
 she and her grandfather and it were going to be happy together, 
 and stretching up to the great arches of bells hung on the wall, rang 
 a peal on them that filled the whole Spring-like day with the voices 
 of her childhood. She rang them again and again. " I ll never 
 hear any music better than that," said tuneless Ross, as she passed 
 her hand tenderly over the rusty bells, and hung them more securely. 
 Then she went out slowly. 
 
 " t Is this music i th earth or i th air ? " 
 
 She laughed, and blushed, and grew pale, and then shut the door 
 and turned away from it. The stately figure, with its fur-lined 
 overcoat, the fastidious face that bent to hers, admiring, yet super 
 cilious, jarred somehow with the dusty old wagon and its bells, and 
 did them dishonor. 
 
 They went side by side into the house. There was not a look or 
 word which did not tell her that he loved her. Yet she was quiet 
 and unsmiling, as though a gust of cold rain had swept through her 
 holiday and chilled out its warmth and rose color. Whether she 
 spoke or was silent, Garrick, however, was equally content. Under 
 the mask of punctilious manner and dress, there was a lonely, slow 
 old fellow, very tired of books and himself, who thought he had 
 found home at last. 
 
 Friend Blanchard had driven to town early in the morning; so 
 they were left alone during the long, quiet afternoon, before the 
 great wood-fire, seated in two easy-chairs. 
 
 Sometimes they talked, but oftener they were silent. Fresh logs 
 burned, the ashes fell in heaps upon the hearth ; the red heat grew 
 powdered over with gray. Outside, the sky clouded and cooled, 
 and the snow began softly to fall ; the world was hushed about 
 them ; its quiet lapped Garrick into certainty of possession ; he 
 bade fair, in fact, to be dilatory and visionary as a lover, as he had 
 been in all the other chances of his life. 
 
 They had lunch so Ross called it. To him it was as a meal 
 which Adam and Eve ate in Paradise, while the world waited for 
 them to enter into possession. Perhaps he was not conscious of the 
 delicate damask, or the creamy flakes of Matsy s biscuit ; but if ono 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT, 
 
 had been coarse or the other sodden, Eden would uoc havo been so 
 vivid to him. 
 
 After the meal was over, he told her long stories of which he was 
 generally the hero; not offensively, for about his own self, per se, 
 Randolph was reticent and morbidly humble. But what did he 
 know of the world outside of the farm in Kentucky, and the col 
 lege, and his adventures there ? Besides, he had a simple-hearted, 
 eager desire to take her into his heart of hearts, and let her look 
 out from there, and see life just as he saw it ; how else were they to 
 become one ? Then, his home and inheritance never had seemed so 
 important or dear to him as now, when he meant to take to them a 
 mistress. He was going to gain a diamond, and it behooved him 
 to find for it a proper setting. So he talked to her of the house 
 and farm, of aunt Laura, of all the Randolphs and Pages, whose 
 honorable blood had culminated in his own ; prosing on, looking in 
 the fire, not noticing that her work had fallen on her lap, and she 
 had grown silent ; that the face looking in the fire had become 
 almost haggard in the last half hour, the blood setting in dark 
 circles about her eyes as she saw the gulf between them widening 
 widening. 
 
 What could she, with her unclean childhood, ever be to him ? 
 But \vhat was she to do? Plow could she drag it out before him ? 
 He held her at a vague but absolute distance of respect and homage ; 
 he invited no confidence, said no word that implied he ever desired 
 to be nearer to her than now ; she could not force herself and her 
 history upon him. If he ever asked her to be his wife, she would 
 put him from her, and give no reason. She hardened down into 
 that resolve ; and Ross had a temper a good deal like molten steel 
 clear and liquid as water until it found its mould, and afterward, 
 never to be bent or broken. 
 
 Finally he came, in his journey through the family annals, to the 
 story of the will, which had become a festering spot in his own 
 memory. He told it to her as if they had been already affianced, 
 and their interests were one. 
 
 " The whole matter is the more galling to me," he said, " as the 
 man Strebling, to whom the property was said to be left, is one for 
 whom I have, above all others, an antipathy." 
 
 " James Strebling of Alabama ? " Miss Burley looked toward 
 the window, and her voice was husky as she spoke. 
 
 Randolph turned, surprised. " Yes ; I did not know that you 
 knew him." 
 
 She did not answer at once. " I do not know him. I should 
 think there would be a great gulf between you and him, or 
 fou and his children." She rose, and then sat down again, passing 
 her hand once or twice over her forehead, uncertainly. 
 
 " Strebling has but one child Bob," said Randolph, carelessly. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT U5 
 
 " He s a weak, coarse-grained fellow, like his father. Tra ts come 
 down in that way; the sins of the fathers, you know. The air 
 about them seems always impure to me, though I have no reason 
 for such a fancy. But I would not wish my sister to breathe it, 
 or or my wife." 
 
 The blood throbbed painfully back to his heart in the moment s 
 silence that followed, but Rosslyn sat cold and motionless, her 
 hands folded on her knees, her aquiline profile cut clearly between 
 him and the gray window light. For the first time he saw that it 
 had curiously hard lines in it, that the very brown eyes which had 
 seemed to him to be the softest, tenderest in the world, to hold all 
 a wife s and mother s passion and pain latent in them, had a flinty 
 look of dull endurance, which was new to him. It did not alter 
 when she turned toward him. 
 
 " What have you done in this matter ? " she said, going back to 
 the will with forced interest, as if she held it up to ward off any 
 other topic. 
 
 " I have done nothing as yet," stroking his beard thoughtfully 
 " It was Friend Blanchard who first told me the story. I ve been 
 thinking it over. To make haste slowly, that is my motto. To 
 morrow I go to Washington to receive my appointment. I may go 
 from there to Kentucky for a few days. But what would you have 
 me do, Miss Burley ? " 
 
 " I can hardly tell," passing her hands one over the other wearily. 
 "It is so long ago. But if the negro is still living, you could learn 
 from him if he concealed the will, and if he did, it is not too late to 
 make restitution." 
 
 " You mean, to restore the property to Strebling ? " 
 
 " That is all you can do, if you do anything." The brown eyes 
 were duller with "each reply, the light so gone out of her face that 
 it seemed homely and stolid. What were his property, or himself 
 to her? Garrick looked at her, at the fire, at his boots on the parti 
 colored rug, coughed, and rising, began to walk about. 
 
 "It never occurred to me that Hugh might have retained the 
 will." 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 "Of course," hesitatingly, a fierce gleam in his womanish blue 
 eyes, " if he did, my course is clear. But as for his mere assertion 
 that he destroyed it, we do not accept negro testimony in Ken 
 tucky. How could I know that he was telling the truth ? " 
 
 Downright Ross must hit the nail of truth on the head, though it 
 went to the heart of the man she loved. " It would not be an easy 
 sacrifice to make. One would be tempted to avoid it. But it 
 would be honest." 
 
 Randolph gave a bitter, vacillating laugh. "It would not be 
 easy. You use moderate words, Miss Burley. You do not under- 
 10 
 
146 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 stand what it would be to stand alone in the world, without birth 
 right, almost without a name." 
 
 " I think I can understand," said Rosslyn. 
 
 " It would not be easy," Randolph broke out impetuously, " on 
 the eve of the day when you hoped to take the woman you loved 
 to your old home, to your mother s grave, fancying that to live near 
 it, would in some way make your new life more blessed, to give over 
 home and graves to a man you despised, on the testimony of a 
 negro. It would not be easy, but it would be honest, to go to 
 the only woman whom you ever wished to call wife without 
 heritage, with a tainted name ! " 
 
 "It would not matter to a woman who loved," said Rosslyn, 
 standing up, the sorrowful eyes with an inexplicable loss in them 
 fixed on his. " A woman would not care, I think, for birthright, or 
 fortune, or name. It would be different to a man." 
 
 " Well, well ! We are conjuring up ghosts after all, that, perhaps, 
 have no existence. I will find there is no cause for trouble, doubt 
 less," said Randolph, pausing in his walk near the window. " Friend 
 Blanchard is returning," as a coupe, drawn by a pair of grays, came 
 up the road. He turned with a look of chagrin ; the day w r as gone 
 and he had dallied with opportunity until it was too late ; he had 
 put his hand on the w r hite dove which he would have lured to his 
 breast, and now she had escaped him again, for so his fevered imag 
 ination pufrit into words. 
 
 Friend Blanchard s old face came in the door, like a cheerful 
 Winter s day. She glanced quickly from one to the other. 
 
 " I have brought thee some letters, Rosslyn. Garrick will make 
 me welcome, while thee reads them," ensconcing herself by the fire, 
 and opening her budget of gossip, and political news. But Ran 
 dolph answered at random ; there was a new idea in his crotchety 
 brain. 
 
 Rosslyn ? Strebling had spoken of some woman whom he knew 
 here, and the name had fixed itself in Garrick s brain, always reten 
 tive of trifles. Rosslyn Comly. Miss Burley had heard of Strebling. 
 Was it possible that he had ever wrought harm to some woman, A 
 relative of Ross ? The name must belong to the family. Yet no; 
 she was a mere pauper, a fishwoman, he remembered. 
 
 But the idea stung and annoyed him ; the more as there was no 
 possible solution of the riddle. 
 
 He went away soon afterward, listening with forced smiles to 
 Friend Blanchard s sallies, and inwardly cursing his delay. Why 
 had he not spoken the few words which would have given him the 
 right to call her his ? As it was she sat bending over a great blurred 
 sheet of foolscap, scarcely touching his hand with her cold fingers 
 when he said good-by. 
 
 When he was gone, Ross went to her own chamber, and laying 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 147 
 
 the letter down, knelt by the window to watch him going down 
 the road ; she pushed her hair back. What did it matter if it never 
 curled again ? What did it matter now, how soon her flesh dried 
 and wrinkled, and old age and death came ? She was not like 
 other women, and their lot was not hers. Home, husband, child, 
 she had dreamed of them all, as all young girls do. They could 
 live down obstacles to their love, but a shameful birth, a beggarly 
 childhood, these never could be undone. 
 
 She knelt there, her hands stretched vaguely out over the window 
 sill, a long time, while the snow whitened the fields and the road on 
 which he had disappeared ; knelt there till the night came silently 
 down. 
 
 Many years ago, in that shameful childhood, old Joe had taught 
 her to kneel by this very window when she said her evening 
 prayer. " Seems like as ef He was nearer out o doors," he said. 
 She had an odd faith in the Helper who was so real to Joe, then, 
 and now when she saw Him under every beautiful work, or deed, or 
 true word in the world, her faith was just as childish. She never 
 had tasted a pleasure, in her friends, in the good she had done, in 
 her own beauty, or in hard-accomplished work, that she had not 
 thanked Him for it, and, perhaps, asked for more. If it had been 
 her grandfather, or her child (if she had had one) who lay dying 
 to-night, she would have asked his life, and known it would be 
 granted. But it was her own womanly life that was being stifled, 
 her right to love and be loved, and if she held out her hands and 
 soul to the Something which waited behind that solemn night, cry 
 ing, " Thou knowest I have need of these things," who blames her ? 
 
 Friend Blanchard, anxiously listening at her door, a long time 
 after, heard no sound ; but in a little while Ross rose from where 
 she sat, pale and wet in the frosty air, with light in her eyes, and a 
 Hinile on her lips, having given her trouble to Another to care for. 
 
 She made up a cheery fire, and undressed and crept into bed, 
 going to sleep as easily as when old Joe used to rock her in his 
 arms. It seemed to her that no matter how stormy the days com 
 ing might be, he and his little girl and the stranger who had come 
 into their lives and who was already so dear to her, would be led 
 together safely through their journey to the home waiting for them. 
 She had asked for it, and it would be done. So, dreaming of that 
 journey, she fell asleep, and through her sleeping as her waking 
 dreams, the bells of her childhood rang cheerful, prophetic music. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 OUT OF THE CAMP. 
 
 rTlHERE was no light but that of the dim glimmer of the snow ; 
 JL the moon had gone down early in the evening, leaving muddy 
 rain-clouds to trail drearily, one by one, across the abyss of cold 
 and darkness yawning overhead ; no rain fell, however ; only sullen 
 gusts of blinding mist drove at intervals through the mountain 
 gorges. By the focusless light, the shadows of the flat-topped Cum 
 berland hills were thrown uncertainly into the ravines where the 
 rivers lay frozen ; hills that rose in slow interminable succession 
 from horizon to horizon, their backs covered with snow, except 
 where some steep mountain peak rose like a grim, desperate ghost, 
 to face the bitter wind, the frost dropping in patches from his head, 
 like the white hair and ragged beard of old, discrowned Lear. 
 
 A dreary, desolate landscape, seen nearer ; curiously wanting in 
 the nucleus of a human home ; neither hamlet, nor even a solitary 
 farmhouse with its outbuildings gave meaning to the slopes of stub 
 ble, to the great shivering forests knee-deep in drifted snow, or the 
 muddy creeks that crept along between banks crusted with ice ; only 
 on the side of a crescent-shaped hill a group of yellow tents mottled 
 the white surface like a cluster of mole-hills ; here and there among 
 them a fire burned, making a red, nebulous point of hazy light in 
 the wide, melancholy waste. 
 
 It was in fact a forlorn hope venturing into a forlorn region : the 
 Federal command under Garfield, which was thrown forward among 
 the mountains at the head of the Big Sandy to root out whatever 
 Confederate troops there might be intrenched in Eastern Kentucky, 
 before the great simultaneous movement ordered by the Govern 
 ment for the 22d of February, among the land and naval forces, 
 took place. Colonel Garfield s force was small, consisting of about 
 twelve hundred men, and he paused to gather more certain informa 
 tion as to the position and strength of the enemy before moving 
 into the mountain fastnesses where he was encamped. Information 
 which was not easy to attain where the sparse population of the 
 hills were all inimical to the Federals troops and skilled in mislead 
 ing them. 
 
 { There s not one of these stolid-looking farmers who bring pro 
 visions into camp," said Captain Knox to his lieutenant that night, 
 " who does not look on us as invaders, and think he does God 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 149 
 
 service in picking us off from behind the first bush that will tiido 
 him." 
 
 He was sitting in his tent, writing on his knee by the light of a 
 tin lantern ; he dug the pen revengefully into the paper as he spoke. 
 The other, a sallow young fellow with a hook nose and cool, black 
 eye, stretched on a gum blanket on the ground, laughed. 
 
 " Well, Cap, it s not every one that can grasp a great principle as 
 you have done to fight for it ; but any man knows the smell of his 
 own barn when it is burning, you see. Who s this?" as a tall, 
 heavily-built man in butternut clothes and a white felt hat, stood 
 in the door of the tent. Knox looked up impatiently. " One of 
 our bushwhacking allies," under his breath. 
 
 " It s Burley, sir," lifting his finger to his forehead. 
 
 The young man stood up. " What does this disguise mean ? " 
 sharply. 
 
 Joe let the curtain fall behind him, and came gravely into the mid 
 dle of the tent. " It was an idee I had, Capt n Knox. I thought 
 I d mention it to you. You ve got a glibber tongue than I have, 
 and I thought you d get me a furlough from the colonel. It s a fur 
 lough I wanted." 
 
 " A furlough ? For what, Burley ? We ll move in a week, prob 
 ably, and into action." 
 
 " So ?" rubbing his hands slowly over each other. "In a week? 
 I hadn t thought it would be so soon. I ll hev to be on hand when 
 we go to work. Ther s a lot of boys in camp you know, capt n ; 
 mere college chaps ; an they d make a sort of example of an old 
 fellar like me. That s so. Ther s no blood on my hands yit ; but 
 I am in earnest in this matter ; I m not agoin to take them home 
 clean." Yet he lifted them as he spoke, looking at them with a 
 vague horror in his face, dropping the words at long, thoughtful 
 intervals in a voice which had fallen into the cracked discordance 
 of old age. 
 
 Years had told on him since we saw him last ; the flesh was gone 
 from the large bony limbs ; his, joints were stiff; the clothes hung 
 bagging from the square hips and shoulders ; the white hair and 
 short white whiskers framed a gaunt, rugged face ; the deep- set 
 eyes twinkled in their yellow hollows but seldom, and moved as 
 slowly and deliberately as the thought within. There was but lit 
 tle resemblance in him to the gay young farmer who had " kept 
 company" with Margaret s mother forty years ago, or to that jolly 
 old fellow, with his bass voice and hearty guffaw, who drove a 
 Conestoga wagon through the hill roads in Pennsylvania, with Ross 
 sitting by his knee. The eyes rested always on a new face dubi 
 ously now, as a man looks at ice upon which he means to venture. 
 It was curious to note how anxiously the boys in camp deported 
 themselves when under the scrutiny of these eyes, as if on trial to 
 
150 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 prove whether they were true men or not. Yet he was the favorite 
 in his mess, enjoyed all their stories two or three times over, and 
 told as racy ones as any of them ; yet nobody ever faced old Burley 
 with a lie, or made game of the cause for which he was fighting. 
 There was a trace of this respect and sincerity of manner in the 
 young officers as they talked to him. 
 
 " What s your idea, Joe ? " said Gaines, as he drew himself up 
 lazily from his blanket, and took down a bottle from the shelf. 
 " Take a drink first ; to the health of somebody at home." 
 
 " Saddee, Leftenant ; that s heartenin . But I ve only one little 
 gal at home, and I never take her name in my mouth with liquor. 
 This was the notion I had," putting down the glass, and looking at 
 Knox. " You know that young fellar as went out to prospect a 
 week ago; up to the forks of the Big Sandy? Markle, by name? 
 Well ! I was fond o Markle. He s never got back ; d ye know ? " 
 . " Certainly ; Lieutenant Markle ; he went out to reconnoitre," 
 a cloud crossing the captain s face. " Well, what of him ? " 
 
 "A little black-bearded fellar. Well," turning his hat inside 
 out, reflectively, " he s not got back ; that s the p int. I donno 
 what Colonel Garfield thinks, but it s my opinion he s bushwhacked ; 
 that s what Markle is bushwhacked." 
 
 The young men exchanged significant glances. Joe interpreted 
 them shrewdly. 
 
 " You think so, likewise ? Well, I ve been turnin the matter 
 over in my mind, and I ve concluded that it s not the clean thing 
 to do not to hunt him up. It s my place to go in search of him 
 of Markle. I ll likely find him ; likely not. He belonged to my 
 company ; I wish you d mention that to the colonel, Capt n Knox, 
 and that I m goin out in these here Secesh clothes to lie round the 
 country a bit in search of him. That is, with the colonel s permit, 
 of course. Though he s no more than a college chap, eyther," in a 
 lower voice. 
 
 Knox hesitated, looking doubtfully at the lieutenant. "It s a 
 brave thing in you to offer, I know, Burley. These mountain 
 passes are beset with the lowest class of Rebels ; the offscourings 
 of Marshall s troops. I don t believe Garfield will allow you to 
 risk it. There would be little chance of your finding him, and we 
 have no men to spare, especially picked men like yourself. Better 
 risk younger hands, if any." 
 
 The color rose in Burley s lean jaws. " As for that remark about 
 picked men, I m obleeged to you, capt n. But I don t think the 
 colonel 11 object, onless you hint it to him so to do. Young Mar 
 kle was a fav rite of his n. I ve made up my mind to go," dog 
 gedly, "if you ll git the permit. I liked that little fellar, and 
 besides, if he s got a mother, I m responsible to her for leavin his 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 151 
 
 bones here to be gnawed by the bars in the wilderness. They was 
 hardly a man s bones yet; he w asn t but a boy." 
 
 " There are boys enough of us to go in sea.rch of him," said 
 Gaines, hastily. " It is enough for you to risk your white head for 
 your country, Mr. Burley, without making it an unnecessary target 
 for these cursed sharp-shooters. On Markle s account, too. He was 
 a pop-gun sort of a fellow, after all," in a lower tone, crossing and 
 uncrossing his legs uneasily as he stood. 
 
 Joe looked at him steadily. " He didn t seem that to m, sir 
 Young fellars is generally raw and frothy like ; the army s too much 
 filled up with them. I had to come clear out West to get sworn 
 in at all ; but ther bein so few men of my age in the army, makes 
 me more responsible. I ll look after the boy." 
 
 Knox, after a moment s hesitation, had left the tent ; but Gaines 
 stood looking out over the wide waste of snow and darkness to the 
 hazy, spectral mountain line. " Yonder is the route he took," he 
 said impatiently, pointing with his hand across through the gorge 
 leading to the Rebel intrenchments on the head-waters of the Big 
 Sandy. " It will be throwing your life away to follow him, and so 
 I tell you, Burley." 
 
 " As for givin your life away for your country or your friend," 
 said Joe, deliberately, "I don t think ther s much difference at bot 
 tom. So the Good Man said; and He did it, too." 
 
 Gaines remained silent, whistling a low tune, as he stood in the 
 door of the tent. Joe waited half an hour inside. " I m afeard the 
 capt n hes some trouble about that furlough," he said at last. " I 
 wish Colonel Garfield and me was acquainted, and ther d be no dif- 
 fickelty. But he hardly knows which of his men s of the right kid 
 ney, I expect. I ll go put my traps together, ef you ll let me apast, 
 Leftenant." 
 
 Gaines moved aside. " You make sure of going ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir. It s borne in on me, somehow, that I ll go. I ll be 
 back in a bit," putting on his overcoat to conceal his suit of butter 
 nut, and pulling his comforter about his ears as he crossed the open 
 space to where his company (one of an Ohio regiment) had their 
 quarters. Two or three men were lounging on the ground about 
 the smouldering fire when he went in ; the tent was dirty ; the 
 straw on the ground muddy ; their clothes and blankets in a disor 
 dered heap ; the men were as yet too unused to camp-life to have 
 learned the advantages of order. The old man stumbled over their 
 legs, as he made his way to the corner where his knapsack hung ; 
 and taking it down, began to pack it as if for a march. 
 
 " You re not on picket to-night, Joe ? " asked one of the men, 
 leaning on his elbow. 
 
 " No." He looked back over his shoulder, now and then at them, 
 
152 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 and then out at the wide, gloomy night settling .deeper and darker 
 over the mountains. The tent was a cheerful shelter, after all ; he 
 came to the fire, and spread out his hands over it. Joe was an old 
 man now, with habits grown stiff as his limbs : habits which, since 
 his youth, had been curiously methodical and clean ; at home, for 
 years, he had gone daily from his neat chamber in the farm-house 
 to his neater little office in the lumber-yard. It came up before 
 him suddenly now, distinct as a picture : the white walls, the big 
 wooden chair, the green-covered desk, the fire in the grate, and the 
 clean pine scent from the boards coming in at the open window. 
 Rosslyn, when she was in town, would come in always for a few 
 minutes talk ; no one else, perhaps, all day, for customers were 
 few. He had settled down there, in these gentle, easy-going ways, 
 for life. This tent, with its cold and discomfort, the chances of 
 blood and sudden death in wait just without, seemed to him, some 
 times, like a horrible nightmare. He listened now, silently, for a 
 while, to the boys joking about " picking off Johnny Reb," etc., 
 with his head dropped on his chest. 
 
 " Seems to me, George Dunn, that is but a peart and a shaller 
 way of puttin it," he said at last. " When we fired at that squad 
 of graycoats down on the creek t other day, seemed as if I could 
 see the home each on them had left behind, the wife, or little chil 
 dren, may be. I ken t laugh at your jokes, Dunn." 
 
 "You d better go home if you re chicken-hearted, Burley," 
 growled Dunn. 
 
 " No." The old man s stern face was set, his eyes turned to the 
 darkness without, as if he found there the meaning and aim of an 
 unflinching purpose. " You re only a lad, you don t understand," 
 slowly. "This hyer disease in the country needed bloodlettin . It 
 don t matter if it was my brother s -let it go. But it s no subjec 
 for jokes, to me," with a shudder over his powerful frame. 
 
 The men were silent ; after a little while, Joe looked a^ an care 
 fully through his knapsack before he strapped it on ; thinking that 
 he would ask for three days rations. Perhaps he might not need 
 so much ; turning his head to look at the muddy gap in the whitish- 
 gray line of hills where his road lay. But he did not look at it 
 something rose in his throat, and choked him at the thought of his 
 old body lying stiff in the snow of the gorge yonder. He took a 
 little Bible which he carried from his breast pocket, and out from 
 the leaves a photograph of Ross, keeping his back carefully turned 
 to the men as he held it in the light of the lantern. " Maybe I 
 ought to be keerful of myself for the little un," he muttered, doubt 
 fully. "But I ken t leave the boy to be gnawed by the bars yan- 
 der. Rossline ud say that. She d never want to see her grandad 
 cotnin home like a mean, oncourageous hound." 
 
 He went out of the tent a moment after, taking the lantern with 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 153 
 
 him, the men noticed, and a book with a white card between the 
 leaves. When he came back fhe light was out in the lantern, his 
 coat-collar was drawn closely up about his pale face, and the book 
 and card were gone. 
 
 " I ll say good-night now, boys," he said, coming up to them. 
 Something in his tone made them look up. 
 
 " I ll sleep out, I expect. Keep up a good fire, Jim ; s likely I 
 kin see it; it ll seem chee rin ." He looked from one to the other 
 wistfully as he spoke. 
 
 " Good-night, Burley," one or two said, carelessly. 
 
 "You d better hap up warm," said Dunn. "Take my blanket, 
 it s bigger than you rn. This snow s bad for your rheumatism." 
 
 " No, saddee, lad. You don t bear no malice, George, agin what 
 I said of your jokes ? No. I thought not. I ve been rough with 
 you young boys, sometimes. But a man s temper gets out of kel- 
 ter, at my age. I d like if you d all overlook them little brashes 
 we ve -had. Eh ? " 
 
 The men nodded and laughed, looking after him as his gaunt 
 figure halted in the tent door, and the heavy, earnest face met 
 theirs ; his lips moved as if he would have spoken, but changing his 
 mind, he only lifted his finger to his forehead, slowly, giving them 
 the military salute, and went out into the darkness. 
 
 A few minutes later and he stood with Knox, in the shadow of 
 his tent. 
 
 " Is there nothing more that I can do for you, Burley ? " said the 
 young officer. " I brought passes, an order for rations, and put up 
 a flask of my own brandy. Hush, no matter. Are there no letters, 
 or directions you want to leave in case that that Life is uncer 
 tain with all of us, you know, here, and " 
 
 The old man put out his hand, but did not speak for a moment. 
 When he did, his voice was steady and collected. "Ther s only 
 one person ; it s my grandda ater, Capt n Knox. I tried to write to 
 her twicci to-day, but I couldn t I couldn t. Ef I don t come back 
 when my furlough s out, I d be obleeged ef you d send her a few 
 words. I ve got her address here. Tell her -where I went, and 
 why. And what was likely to be the end of it. I d be glad if 
 you d tell it to her as gentle as you could, capt n. She s nothin 
 but a little gal ; a little, tender gal." 
 
 "You have a message your love? or blessing?" in a lowered 
 voice. 
 
 " Well, no," hesitating. " Seems as if I couldn t send them 
 to her through a stranger. That s foolish, maybe, but I feel that 
 way. Rossline knows. There s no need of words between her and 
 me. She knows." 
 
 "Good-by, Burley, then. I wish we had more such men in the 
 army." 
 
154 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " If I had younger bones, I d be worth more. Good-by, Captain 
 Knox." The two men shook hands earnestly, the young officer 
 standing afterward to watch the large, dark figure as it slowly 
 crossed the white slopes, until it had disappeared in the hazy dis 
 tance. Then he went into his tent, and finding himself alone, after 
 a quick, conscious glance around, took out a little gilt-edged Testa 
 ment from his luggage (quite new and unused), and began to read 
 it. Something in the homely sincerity of the old man had driven 
 his thoughts back to homely and sincere words which had lingered 
 in his memory since boyhood ; the words of that Elder Brother who 
 came to show us that a man,(born among the dregs of the people, 
 may make his life purer, humbler and manlier than any that the 
 world has known ; and who gave that life at last for the help, not 
 of his friend, but his enemy. 
 
 Meanwhile, Joe, plodding down the crooked path made by the 
 men through the underbrush, reached the slope below, and struck 
 out across the white stretch southward at an even, steady gait ; 
 wrapping his blanket closer about his head and chest to defend 
 himself from the nipping wind. Now and then he turned his back 
 to it, and stopped to look up at the camp-fires, throwing red, low 
 glances of light down the hill; he could distinguish Jim s among 
 the rest. Then he went on, clapping his arms, before and behind 
 as porters do, to keep himself warm, and began to sing his one 
 song, which he had roared when he was a boy, about " Cease, rude 
 Borus, blusterin railer," not knowing at all that he meant the 
 wind. But his voice died out in his lungs in a cracked treble, even 
 the whistle which he attempted had to be given up ; only the 
 resolute thump, thump of his heavy boots in the snow broke the 
 silence. 
 
 As he penetrated farther and farther into the darkness, the fires 
 became mere points of ruddy glitter. But they seemed in some 
 way to connect him to safety and Ross. At last, however, the spur 
 of the hill behind which he must pass crossed the road ; the olcj. 
 man paused again, looked long and steadily at the red sparks, and 
 then turning his back on them, drew a long, courageous breath and 
 plunged into the wide, homeless night. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 155 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN PASS. 
 
 ^ NARROW pass between two 
 of the low, sharp peaks of 
 the Cumberland mountains. 
 From their heights, on a 
 Summer morning, it is a 
 purely American landscape 
 that opens ; stretches of suc 
 culent, arable land, in broad, 
 green slopes, lonely, un 
 used ; mountains unmined 
 and untunnelled, their treas 
 ures close hid under jealous, 
 heavy forests, rising solitary 
 and at long intervals, left 
 there to dream with the 
 whitish mist clinging to 
 them, as if the moonlight 
 and they, forgotten, had 
 slept into the common day 
 together ; muddy roads, 
 creeping through cuts in the 
 hills, their banked sides 
 of gray sandstone, oozing and wet, stained red with iron ; yellow 
 creeks coiling, filled with life, through rocky, mountain gullies, 
 through dusky maple woods, through orchards and wide, half- 
 tilled farms ; the smoke of iron-furnace fires off to the north, blown 
 in purple and saffron dots across the sky; perpetual sounds coming 
 up to these heights, of far-off voices, of lowing cattle, the bee s 
 drone, the sobbing, under-ground hill springs making their way 
 down to the quiet valleys, the hush of listening forests ; that inar 
 ticulate voice of a Summer day, far and dim, near akin to silence, 
 with meaning that always calls to us, yet never reaches the ear of 
 our car, wait we ever so patiently. 
 
 To a traveller of clear instincts, looking from these heights, there 
 would come, on a Summer day, the certainty that he stood on 
 ground belonging to a new world ; a sense of untested strength, of 
 waiting space and nourishment for homes; of beauty, rank in its 
 vigor ; and above all that uneasy, unanchored explorer s feeling, 
 everywhere epidemic in the raw, restless air of the States, the sense 
 that the present foothold was but a promise ; that over the river, 
 over the mountain, just beyond the eye s range, lay the land of his 
 desire. The very air itself blew outward eagerly, the streams 
 
156 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 crept out out under the far violet-tinted horizon to a wider, better 
 country, to which that violet line formed the intangible and only 
 barrier. 
 
 But old Joe Burley found another meaning in the pass and long, 
 sharp-edged mountains fencing it in, as he entered it near the close 
 of a long Winter s night. A rainy night, sodden and heavy ; it 
 blotted out utterly the sweeps of mountain ranges, farms and forests, 
 and drew in the horizon for the old man to the gray walls of rock 
 that opened on either side a murky gap for him to pass through. 
 
 For three days he had been tramping through these slopes of 
 moorland, these hill defiles and listening forests, which opened so 
 fair and prophetic a scroll to the Summer sun. Whatever meaning 
 they bore now, found utterance in the charred farm-houses which 
 he passed, in the groups of dirty, white tents that were clustered 
 here and there on the creek banks, in the nameless graves > **. scarred 
 the fields. Beyond that, there was silence. 
 
 The old man had plodded on from one mountain range to another, 
 falling in with bushwhackers, with outlying Federal scouts, with 
 gangs of men ready to plunder on either side ; he had cut loose all 
 ties behind him, and held his life ready for the moment s calL 
 Shrewdly enough, he had assumed a character which required no 
 acting for him to sustain that of a mule-breeder, who had sold his 
 stock to Humphrey Marshall, and was making his way home again 
 to Letcher County. His rations were gone ; ,Jie dragged his heavy, 
 rheumatic old legs, in their leather leggings, up the rocks like a 
 burden ; he believed that they found in every icy pool or clammy 
 clay-bog in which they sank, a new and keener pain. 
 
 He had traced Markle successfully to this gap in the mountains. 
 The young man had reached it three days before. Outside of it, on 
 one side, lay encamped a body of cavalry, an outpost of Marshall .; 
 forces, which then were moving up toward the hills on Middia 
 Creek, below Prestonburg ; on the other side, the mountain sloped 
 down into the river, a bed at its base of miry clay more impregnable 
 than the human rampart to the assault of the dare-devil, reconnoi- 
 treing little Lieutenant. Burley, assuming that he was in the gap, 
 had penetrated to its further end, and found there, just as night 
 closed on him, an unfordable stream. 
 
 Rain began to fall ; he was baffled at every turn ; he found shelter 
 under a projecting rock, and tried to sleep until morning. When 
 the darkness began to grow colder and less dense, he got up, buck 
 ling his leather strap tighter about his stomach to stifle the pain, 
 stamped, and coughed, and lit his pipe, bracing himself up for the 
 day s work, and then turned his face sturdily to the dreary gorge 
 again, trying to understand that he was Joseph Barley, lumberman, 
 and that this slough of night and peril was the old, hearty, friendly 
 world whose tricks he thought he had learned in sixty years. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 157 
 
 Perhaps Joe s insight was not so clear as that of the traveller on 
 the Summer s morning, or perhaps (for he was a dull, superstitious 
 lout in his youngest day) his instincts were only keen enough to 
 discover the passing, transient phase of meaning on the face of the 
 country that had given him birth. For, as he entered the gap, no 
 prophecy of waiting homes or a nation s glory came to him, but a 
 curious conviction, instead, that he was going to meet the end of 
 some miserable tragedy, the consummation of a crime that cried 
 aloud to God or to man for redress. 
 
 The feeling was the stronger in the old man s mind, because there 
 was no outward storm or turbulence in the coming day ; the disquiet 
 in the air was that of a dull despair rather than that discontent 
 which could find vent in ordinary tempest or outcry ; even the 
 solemn gloom of the mountain peaks was lowered and made com 
 mon in the foggy, breathless morning ; colorless and torpid as the 
 face of a dead man with whom remains neither anger nor hope, 
 whose eyes are shut, whose lips are bound, knowing that the ver 
 dict had been recorded and the Book forever closed. 
 
 The white snow had melted in the pass and lay in miserable, rot 
 ting heaps of slush ; there was not a gust of frosty, clean wind to 
 tell of the wholesome Winter s nights gone before; the stars, which 
 have looked down, with their calm gospel of good-will and forgive 
 ness, on many a fiercer victory of human wrath and injustice than 
 that old murder of helpless Abel, had gone out of these muddied 
 skies; only the clammy clay, clogging his feet, holding him back ; 
 the dull, monotonous rain filling the world as with a perpetual, 
 uncomforted sorrow, and the gray, rocky cliffs, opening before him. 
 
 It was natural that Burley, who was a soldier, and fighting for 
 an idea, should refer all individual impressions to that one great 
 .cause. He entered the gorge, with a sort of dogged certainty, 
 expecting to find Markle s dead body in the crevices of the impend 
 ing rocks. " It seemed to me," he said afterward, " that them gap 
 ing stone walls was like a tomb, and that he would be found there, 
 lyin , like Lazarus, bound hand and foot. There was a cry in the 
 very air that mornin . I seemed, too, to begin to see ther , as the 
 night broke and the gray dawn set in, how the great and terrible 
 day of the Lord, prophets talked of, was upon us : when the young 
 and strong men offered themselves a willin sacrifice. The mornin 
 had nyther help nor comfort in it. I could hear my brother s blood 
 callin from the ground agin them that slayed him. I could hear 
 the voice of one in the wilderness, cryin for her children, like one 
 who would not be comforted, because they were not." 
 
 In which poor Burley stumbled blindly on a truth deeper than 
 all facts. For that great and awful Presence, that Comforter who 
 was to come, who struggles to touch us in the living sunlight or in 
 the healing wind, who gropes vaguely up through wayside dust, or 
 
158 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 fluttering leaf, who calls aloud to us in the wailing sea, who wraps 
 us at last in the warm mould, the thing which philosophers familiar- 
 ize as Nature, and for whose human tenderness and strength men 
 can find no other name than that of Mother, does so mourn for its 
 maimed children, does so rejoice with those who inherit their birth 
 right, that the terrible pathos of its voice grows sometimes audible 
 to natures more obtuse than that of this old man. Yet, it was 
 natural to him, if any mysterious echo of meaning reached him 
 through the silent, unlit dawn, or clammy air, to fancy that the 
 dirge belonged to the young, brave hero, dead on the field of battle, 
 rather than to some life lost, with its battles unwon, unfought. 
 
 Keeping his head down on his chest, his eyes glancing furtively 
 from side to side, he pushed up the ravine, the uncertain light begin 
 ning to make the clefts along the rocks visible through the low- 
 lying, sluggish fog. 
 
 No dead body met his eye. 
 
 On the further side of the gully, he had noticed, the day before, 
 the remains of an old hut, built against the side of the hill, the door 
 of which swung by one hinge in the wind, giving a full view of 
 broken boards and muddy floor inside. 
 
 Coming near to it now, however, Joe perceived, dimly, the figure 
 of a man in the doorway, with one arm thrown up over his head, 
 covered with a ragged red flannel shirt-sleeve. Burley hailed him, 
 but received no answer ; the figure disappearing so suddenly that 
 he almost believed it a deception of the fog. He paused a moment, 
 uncertainly, then crossing to the other side of the gorge, hurried on. 
 
 How far he walked he did not know; probably not out of the 
 man s sight, or perhaps the other followed him stealthily. But all 
 the weakness, and hunger, and disappointment against which he had 
 fought for days, seemed to assault poor Joe s old body and brain 
 in one moment. His pipe went out and dropped from his mouth, 
 his knees tottered, his teeth chattered helplessly, he stood with his 
 feet glued in the muddy slime, stretching out his arms. 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! Rossline ud think her grandad was made of poor 
 stuff! " he muttered, with a laugh, which went down into a misera 
 ble chuckle, tugging vainly at his feet. 
 
 A pair of strong hands caught him under the arm-pits and eased 
 him out of the slough. But Joe s eyes were dim. " I m obleeged 
 to you, comrad. I m obleeged to you. These legs of mine is a 
 dead lift to-day." 
 
 After that he was only conscious enough to know that he was 
 slowly helped along for some distance, and then, that there was a 
 sudden change in the temperature, the air about him being warm 
 and dry, and that he was seated with a glass of liquor to his lips. 
 When he opened his eyes he found himself in the hut with his back 
 to the wall. The roof <Hvas barely high enough for a man to stand 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 159 
 
 upright in ; the ground was covered with dried wisps of hay. His 
 legs were bared to the knees, and A man was squatted on the ground 
 in front of him rubbing them vigorously. Buiiey tried feebly to 
 draw them away. 
 
 " Xo, sir, no ; I kent allow that." 
 
 The man sopped a rag he had from the bottle of whiskey, spilling 
 it over the floor, and began to polish away more vehemently than 
 before, with a cordial, eager laugh, curiously out of keeping with 
 the place. The more Joe rebelled, the more he polished, and sopped, 
 and chuckled. 
 
 " Enough o that, comrad, I tell you. Them old trotters is nigh 
 done for," looking down with a covert admiration at the big brawny 
 muscles under the chilled, purple skin. " I thought them nags ud 
 hold me my time ; but they ve had their day. They ve had their 
 day. Your e thro win the good liquor away, man ! " 
 
 The man dashed it out with a bravado of generosity, like one 
 who would be a spendthrift in a paltry way, if he dared, and after 
 a final rub, drew out of an inner pocket a patched pair of woollen 
 socks and put them on Barley s feet ; keeping his head, as he did it, 
 persistently bent so as almost to conceal his face. Joe perceived, 
 however, from the shirt that he wore, that it was the man whom he 
 had passed on the road. He could see also that he was small, 
 dressed in trousers and waistcoat of stained broadcloth, made to fit 
 a much larger person ; his hair was iron-gray and cut short ; about 
 the top of the head, bald, the forehead broad and protuberant, the 
 hands horny and large-knuckled. Dangling from his ears, and on 
 one finger, were gaudy rings set with red glass stones. 
 
 Joe s tone, when he saw these, became more assured and kindly ; 
 but he did not call him " comrad" again. 
 
 " Kin you spare your rations, my man ? " when he found the other 
 was bringing out some corn-bread and slices of pork from an inner 
 cranny of the hovel. " I ve got money enough for us both, but 
 it s been slack lines with me in the way of feedin for two days 
 now." 
 
 The man nodded, still preserving his forced silence, and placed 
 the food before him, spreading out a clean towel, in which it had 
 been wrapped by way of a napkin, and then turned away, looking 
 down the road, laughing secretly to himself when he heard the old 
 man munching eagerly. Meanwhile Joe scanned him anxiously. 
 He was a middle-aged man, " an breakin fast," Buiiey perceived. 
 Beside the heavy forehead, there was little to note in his small, clean 
 shaven face beyond the reticent, slow-moving, melancholy eyes. 
 The mouth was weak, the chin retreating. 
 
 "That old fellar lies black blood in him," thought Buiiey, per 
 plexed. "Ef he knows wher Markle s to be found, he ll never 
 give him up to me with these secesli clothes ofc." For he had found 
 
160 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 the negroes along his route invariably distrustful of his errand and 
 disguise. He began his soundings cautiously. 
 
 " Yer a native hereabouts, my man, eh ? " 
 
 The man turned quickly, raising his hand to his head mechanically. 
 "I m de dining-room servant of Colonel Wilder. His house is jess 
 beyond dat farder hill. My name s George. George Wilder, cunnel s 
 folks call me," the words slipping off his tongue like a parrot s 
 chatter ; then he fell again into his watchful silence, keeping one 
 eye on the road and the other on Burley. Joe put down his chunk 
 of corn-bread, looking at him with a baffled stare. He could not 
 tell the man whose food he had just eaten that he was lying. 
 
 " But ther s none of his sort that won t try to outwit a white 
 man," he thought. " The poor critters is druv to it ; and this man 
 hes a purpose in it." 
 
 Now, too, that the temporary weakness was overcome by rest 
 and food, and Burley began to draw strong, hearty breaths again, 
 the old consciousness of the intangible foreboding of ill about him 
 returned. The hut in which he sat, comfortably enough, was dark ; 
 the broken entrance made a frame for the incessant, cruel rain and 
 cheerless twilight without ; the man in the doorway, with his limp, 
 stooped body, and that furtive, hunted look turned down into the 
 road, was a fitting figure to give meaning to the day. The momen 
 tary, childish pleasure of rescuing Burley, of rubbing and feeding 
 him, had died away ; when he was conscious of the old man s scru 
 tiny he shuffled uneasily. There was, indeed, this peculiarity about 
 the man, old as he was, that his limbs fell when not used into aim 
 less, unpurposed movement, as if the members of his body had not 
 even the one common, informing motive of life which gives to an 
 animal its calm, steady composure of motion, but were to be used 
 at the will of another. The very eye which should have discovered 
 his separate identity, with all of its reticence and melancholy, had 
 yet that conscious, irresolute look of a child or idiot, who knows 
 itself a parasite, and dependent on a more adult nature. 
 
 Burley, however, saw nothing of this. A certain familiarity with 
 the man s figure and face puzzled and irritated him. " It s the same, 
 and not the same as some other I ve seen," he thought. Then, 
 going up to him, he touched him on the shoulder. " There s some 
 one comin up the hill as you re afeard on ? " he said. 
 
 The man shifted his position suddenly, but looked Burley straight 
 in the eyes. " No ; what for ud I watch ? I am Gunnel Wilder s 
 man. My name s George." 
 
 " True, true ! " Burley leaned one arm against the jamb of the 
 door, looking down at him. " Ef I let him alone he ll leak out all 
 his secrets," he said to himself; but he kept his eye steadily on him, 
 as he would hold his hand on the lock of a door that he meant to 
 open. He was not mistaken. 
 
I 
 
 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 161 
 
 " You coined up from beyond Gunnel Wilder s, suh ? " the man 
 asked at last. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I ve not been dar dese seberal days," hesitating. " I went down 
 to Jennie s creek for de cunnel. Its prob le you could tell me some 
 ob de news dar, now." 
 
 " What news ? " Joe fumbled at his cravat carelessly, knowing 
 that some hint of the truth would speedily appear. The man s jaw 
 fell, he coughed huskily, but said, finally, distinctly, 
 
 " Dar was some strangers dar. Dey come from Pulaski County, 
 de day I lef. You don t know if dey s gone, suh ? " 
 
 " Who were they ? " 
 
 " Dar was Mist Laurar Page. An dere was de gemman from 
 Alabama, an he s son, out um Zollicoffer s army." 
 
 Some old remembrance made Burley stand erect, throwing back 
 his powerful shoulders. " Alabama ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes, suh. M s Jeems Strebling an he s son. Maje Robert, dat 
 ar. You don t know if dey s gone out um dar ? " 
 
 " No." Burley said no more, though his lips moved. What the 
 mulatto s keen instinct could read in his face he did not consider, 
 until, happening to look down at his feet, where the man sat 
 crouching on the door-step, he found him peering eagerly up, with 
 his lips apart. When he caught Joe s eye he laughed, pressing his 
 palms softly together. 
 
 " I tink, suh, y knowed M s Jeems. I su mise dat he was no 
 friend of yours." 
 
 Joe drew his fingers through his gray beard again and again, his 
 eye contracted, while he kept his face set toward the dull twilight, 
 as if he heard some voice beyond the mulatto s challenging him to 
 plead guilty or not guilty. He was saying certain words over to 
 himself, how that twenty-odd years were gone ; how that, after all, 
 men like Strebling were not to be hated for the ill they did, more 
 than any noxious vermin ; how that the Good Man had been very 
 near to old Joe Burley these many years, and was he to bring back 
 his soul to Him at last with this black drop in it ? With that the 
 black drop rose, and dyed his face purple, and thickened his 
 tongue. 
 
 " I d rather not talk of Jeems Strebling. I think, after all, I ll 
 not die till that score s clean between him and me." 
 
 The man got up suddenly, some vehement emotion making his 
 whole body rigid. " Why, you re white ! " he said. " What kin 
 ole M s do to you ? " 
 
 Joe turned quickly. " You are his slave, then ? " 
 
 The man put out both hands, looking Joe in the face, silent for a 
 moment ; then they fell " You re too keen-eyed for me, M s," he 
 said. " Yes, I am dat." 
 11 
 
162 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Burley did not speak. The mulatto stood looking out into the 
 rain, some thought, which Joe could not fathom, in his eyes. 
 
 " I allers say dat ar," he said, quietly, " slave. Some of our 
 people name demselves cullored men an suvants; but I tell 
 em dat name b longs to sech as own demselves. I b long to M s 
 Jeems Strebling. Gunnel Wilder once he offered him his bay mare 
 for me, but M s said I was wuth more to him. If de filly had been 
 trowed in, it would hev fetched me. I b long to dat ar Jeems 
 Strebling. All dat s of ine is wuth just dat bay mare an her filly." 
 
 If there was any irony in this, it did not reach Joe s brain. 
 " Look here, my man," he said, after a moment s pause, laying one 
 brawny hand on the little man s shoulder, and turning him about 
 in front of his dogged, ox-like face. " It s no concern of mine who 
 you are. You was hospittable to me, and I wormed yer secret out, 
 and it was an underhand sort of thing to do. Now, in return, I m 
 going to trust you. These clothes don t belong to me. I come out 
 of a government regiment a bit off among the hills. I m in sarch 
 of a little fellar that I think is likely bushwhacked. He s a blue- 
 coat a Yankee ; you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, suh, I understand." 
 
 Hitherto the mulatto had followed Burley s meaning with greedy 
 avidity; but at the first mention of the missing man there was a 
 quick flash of intelligence in his face, and then it lapsed into the 
 dullest stolidity. He stooped indifferently to tie his shoe. Joe 
 went on, raising his voice, 
 
 " I m one of them Federal soldiers yer master s fightin ag inst. 
 You ve got my life in your hands now, you see. But I thought 
 you d likely heerd of Markle dodgin about these hills. I lost 
 traces of him in this gap. He s a little black-eyed chap, with his 
 face covered with hair." 
 
 The man s fingers shook a little as he tied the leather string before 
 answering. " Before de Lo d, suh, I neber seed de man." 
 
 A sound, like a billet of wood thrown against the inner door, was 
 followed by a storm of shouts and oaths. "This way, Burley, this 
 way ! Nat, you devil, you ll die lying, though the truth would 
 serve you better ! Here, Burley ! " 
 
 Joe s plunge into the back room and guffaw when he reached it 
 shook the shed. Markle was lying, in his shirt and trousers, on a 
 pallet of straw, near a low, smouldering fire. " Do you mean that 
 you came in search of me, Joe ? There s a chunk of log, that s all 
 the seat we have ; sit down, old fellow, sit down. Yes, I was nearly 
 done for ; here s where the bullet went in. But, I ll be up to-mor 
 row, Nathan says. How far will I have .to walk? Where did you 
 leave the boys? Do you know that fellow saved my life? That 
 Nat. The cursedest liar ! But he found me two days ago, in the 
 jimson weeds, there at the end of the gully : one of Marshall s 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 1C3 
 
 scouts winged me an hour before. I ve the bullet here in my pocket. 
 N"at found it." 
 
 " Slow, Leftenant, slow ! You re losin breath," laughed Joe. 
 
 They both laughed a little more than was necessary ; Markle 
 catching his breath with a hysteric sob, slapping his hand once 
 and again on Joe s great paw where it lay on the bed. 
 
 " Why, Joe, three days ago, I made up my mind the game was 
 up ! I never looked to see old Dubuque or the boys again. It 
 seemed as if they all come back to me when your old face showed 
 in that door ! But I wanted to tell you about Nat. Here, Nathan ! " 
 rapping on the floor with a stick. 
 
 The door opened and the man entered. He looked deprecatingly 
 at Burley. " Beg pardon for deceibin of you, suh, but I didn t 
 know whether yon was a friend of M s Markle s or no." 
 
 " Well, now, you told me your own secret ? " said Joe. 
 
 The man rubbed his bald crown doubtfully: "So I did, sah, so 
 I did. I neber could keep my mind to myself, not since I was a 
 boy. But about M s Markle, here," busying himself with the bed 
 clothes, " dat was a matter of honor, dat minded my tongue to 
 keep quiet." 
 
 " I wanted to tell you, Burley, before Nathan, what he has done 
 for me," said Markle, holding the man s arm by the sleeve. " For 
 three days he has waited here to nurse me, within gunshot range 
 of his master, liable to detection any moment. He was escaping 
 when he found me. He was a total stranger to me a total 
 stranger." 
 
 " Shell I tell you why I done dat ? " said Nathan, looking up 
 quickly. " In dese tree days, M s Markle, you ve not said once by 
 your looks dat you was white and I was black." 
 
 " Bah ! What s the skin ? That prejudice will vanish like the one 
 our Salem grandfathers had against old women. The world moves 
 it moves ! And you came in search of me, Burley ? " dragging 
 himself up on one elbow energetically. " Well, people say the 
 world is selfish, and given up to trade. By the Lord, when I think 
 of Nat and you, here, risking your lives for such a useless cub as 
 I ve been And there s deeds like that done every day in this 
 war. Talk of your old chivalry and brotherhood " 
 
 " I never heerd about that chivalry," said Joe, slowly, spitting 
 reflectively, after a furtive glance at the mulatto s eager face. " But, 
 seems to me it s a helpful time in the world. Ther s thousands of 
 young men gone into this war to give Nathan here, and his kin, the 
 chance of bein men, and not property, wuth the vally of a horse. 
 Ef you knew, Nathan," said Joe, with the patronage which black 
 blood always brought into his manner, yet speaking directly to a 
 hungry something that looked out of the man s eyes into his own, 
 " ef you and your kin knew the price that s beiri paid for your 
 
164 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 chance, in the best blood of the country, you d u?e it when it 
 came." 
 
 Markle s irascible face grew a shade paler. " Joe," he said, slowly, 
 " If I were Nathan, or one of his race, I would say the price ought 
 to be paid. I would enter into no abasement of gratitude. What if 
 the best blood of the country does flow to give him his chance? 
 It is late in the day. My God ! Look at him ! " 
 
 Even to Joe s slow brain his meaning was clear. Something in 
 Nathan s figure, as he stood by the wall, bending humbly, his hands 
 clasped behind him, gave Burley a perception of the wrong done 
 to him and his people, which no slave s branded hand or scarred 
 back had ever done before. He took out his pipe restlessly, and 
 filled it, wondering, uneasily, why God made men niggers, after 
 all. Being made, it was, maybe, better if they d put up with their 
 lot. 
 
 Markle s wiry voice sounded like a woman s when he spoke again. 
 " If I did not say to you that you were black since we were to 
 gether, there has not been an hour in which I forgot it. Why, 
 you re a middle-aged man, Nathan. More than half of his life is 
 over, Burley. Look at his face ; there is unused brain-power there 
 which God never gave to you or me. Look at the hunger, the 
 vacuity, the animal passion, which has taken its place. Why, the 
 man was born with the ambition, and, most likely, the blood of the 
 best of their Southern families in his veins, and to satisfy it, he has 
 had for work a stable to clean for forty years, and for his highest 
 pleasure an extra dish of something to eat. The play s nearly over 
 for him now; he is wifeless, homeless, with neither a name nor 
 a country to call his own. Just Nathan, nothing more. It is late 
 in the day to bring him, and the gray-haired thousands like him, 
 1 their chance. " 
 
 Nathan stood up, unbuttoning his waistcoat as if for breath. 
 "Do you think it s too late, suh?" 
 
 " Do you ? " keenly. 
 
 The man turned, looking out through the mist and rain toward 
 the house where was his master. It was as if all the weight laid 
 on his brain and soul during his own long life, all the apathy which 
 had descended to him from three generations gone before of hope 
 less servitude, pressed on him with that back-turned look. It was 
 too late ; the old gnawing hunger to know, to be, which had tor 
 tured his earlier manhood, annoyed, irritated him now. There were 
 but a few more years to tote the weary load. Why, if he could 
 reach the North, should he not be content to sit down and eat 
 white bread, drink whiskey and take his fill of ease every day ? 
 He had come to regard these things as pleasant. He could wear 
 finer clothes than Major Bob why not be satisfied with these? 
 
 He stepped forward, leaning with his knuckles on the foot of the 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 165 
 
 bed, the veins in his bony neck swollen, gray shadows on his thin 
 face. 
 
 "I reckon it s too late, suh," he said. "I don t know as the 
 jjhance ud make anything now but a brute of me. It might hev 
 been different once," and then, picking up a water-pail, he went out 
 abruptly into the rain. 
 
 " It s a damned shame," said Joe, thoughtfully, stubbing his finger 
 jito his pipe. But Markle s little bearded face was staring fiercely 
 it the floor over the edge of the pallet, and he made no answer. 
 
 " Somehow, it ain t clear to me how it s to be bettered," with a 
 ponderous sigh. " Ef they want to be free, all right. But as for 
 bein equal to us white folks, that goes agin my grain. Why, 
 they re niggers. Ye can t go back o that. Niggers," taking off 
 his white felt hat and laying it solemnly down between his knees 
 like an argument closed. 
 
 "Burley," said the lieutenant, drawing himself up on the bed 
 with a long breath, " how far off is Garfield ? I can t lie stifling 
 here any longer. What if we made the first break in the journey 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " Well, Leftenant, I m willin . But about that ar leg ? An how 
 are we to cross the country? You ken t pass for another mule 
 raiser. Seems to me as if we wos shut up here like rats in a hole. " 
 
 Markle struggled up until he sat upright. " If I only knew where 
 we were ? " he said, anxiously. 
 
 " Well, ther s no troops nigh us. All we ve got to fear in this 
 vally is the outlyin bushwhackers an the natives ; but it might be 
 old John Bunyan s vally, for that matter, with them ; they re equal 
 to any of Apollyon s quags and pits, and gins. Fact is," cleaning 
 his pipe and putting it in his pocket, " bein there s two of us, we re 
 in a trap that it passes my gumpshion to get out of. I ll kerry 
 you pick-a-back, Leftenant, but you ll have to do the head work. 1 
 
 " There are three of us." 
 
 "Nat?" 
 " That is my plan for him." 
 
 Nathan, who had come in while they talked, and was stooping 
 over the fire, turned at this, and came to the foot of the pallet. " I 
 tank you, marster," he said, enunciating the syllables slowly. " Ef 
 you help me to my freedom I ll I ll do my best," putting his hand 
 on his bald crown and letting it rest there. 
 
 "You saved my life, comrade," said Markle, cheerily. "I d 
 hardly fling you off like a crutch that I had broken." 
 
 " No, suh, you d not. But dere s one fact," stooping over and 
 lowering his voice, " which this gentlem is wrong in, if he ll allow 
 me. Dare s troops closen in on us dis bery night on both sides ; de 
 blues on one, and de grays on de oder." 
 
 " How do you know ? " demanded Joe. 
 
166 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " De slaves round hyur come to me at nights ; dey s impatient to 
 git me off, see ? Dey always knows, whisperin de news one to 
 anoder." 
 
 Joe was disposed to challenge him further, but Markle leaned for 
 ward eagerly. " Where are Humphrey Marshall s men ? " 
 
 " I ll show you, suh," with a prompt, business-like air that he had 
 not shown before, picking up a bit of coal from the hearth and rap 
 idly drawing a rough map of the country on the wall. " Hyur s 
 Middle Creek, which runs jes outside this gully, an hyur s Preston- 
 burg, on its banks ; you kin see the smoke from it on a clear day 
 jes beyond dat hill," pointing out of the door. " M s Humphrey 
 Marshall s encamped between us an Prestonburg; his tents is hud 
 dled in between two mountains." 
 
 " How far from us ? " said Markle. 
 
 " Bout a mile an a half, suh. We are a most widin his picket 
 lines." 
 
 Markle looked at Joe. " You did not tell me this, Nathan ? " 
 
 " Why shud I trubble you, to no use, suh ? I was layin plans 
 for scape. I wasn t idle one minit, marster. Ten miles below us, 
 on Middle Creek, is Cunnel Garfield s forces " 
 
 " Garfield ! I left him three days ago. He had no thought of 
 moving," interrupted Burley, angrily. 
 
 " It is two days since he took up dat place on Middle Creek," 
 said Nathan, scoring the spot energetically with his coal. 
 
 For a few moments there was no sound in the shed but the drop 
 ping of the rain without. " Ef that ther s true," said Joe, half 
 under his breath, " ther s no chance for us. For three men to cross 
 this country onbeknown, with Marshall s cavalry gallopin hither 
 and yon like devils, is a sheer onpossibility. I ve said my say/ 
 
 " What was your plan, Nathan ? " Markle said, forcing his leg 
 down on the floor to test its strength. 
 
 " De plan I an my people hyur about thought on, suh, was not 
 to cross de country, but go by water. One of Cunnel Wilder s 
 men, suh, 11 bring a skiff under de rocks t de end of de gully, to 
 night, n our chance is, ef t holds dark, t drop down before morn- 
 in , keepin in shore." 
 
 " And a very good chance it is ! " said Markle, heartily. " Hurra 
 for the old tent again ! Give me my coat and shoes, Nat," begin 
 ning to whistle as he tried to work them on. 
 
 * What hour had we better set out ? " asked Burley. 
 
 " Not before midnight, M s. De moon rises about then. We ll 
 have plenty of time to row down before dawn." The mulatto was 
 silent after that, stood drawing uncertain lines over the wall, look 
 ing back furtively, now and then, at the two white men. 
 
 " What is it, Nat ? " Markle asked, at last, kindly. 
 
 Nathan came hastily toward them, then stopped short, passing 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 167 
 
 his hand over his thin jaws ; the words choking in his mouth twice 
 as he tried to utter them. " Ef we reach de Guverment camp 
 will I be free den, suh ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " God willin , you ll be a free man before mornin , Nat," growled 
 out Joe, looking after him with compassionate eyes as he went into 
 the outer room, taking, as was his wont, his joy or his pain away 
 into some solitary corner. 
 
 "Are you willing to trust Nathan and his plan?" asked Mar- 
 kle, anxiously. " I have no right to venture your life on my faith 
 in him." 
 
 " Nat s all right," said Joe, with the cough of a judge. " I ve 
 had a long xperience of them niggers. They re very good at 
 fancy lyin , but they re 1 yal at heart, provided you treat em as 
 men." 
 
 The day passed slowly: the rain, fortunately, growing heavier. 
 The white men remained in the back room of the shed, Joe telling 
 long stories belonging to his wagoning days, and Markle laughing 
 and dozing over them. But the bald-headed little man, who had a 
 stake in the day greater than life or death, went about with a 
 pinched, contracted face, his motions as unsteady as if he had been 
 drinking. He kept the outer door ajar, to confirm the uninhabited 
 appearance of the shed, and stood behind it, looking through a 
 knot hole down the road. Once or twice Markle hobbled in to speak 
 a cheery word to him. The last time, late in the afternoon, Nathan 
 looked up at him with a nervous laugh. " Dem rain-drops is tollin 
 off de hours, suh; dey ll be down to minutes soon." 
 
 " You have looked forward to freedom a long while ? " Markle 
 said, putting his hand on the man s shoulder. 
 
 " Since I was a boy, suh. Most of us do dat." 
 
 " Was Strebling so hard a master? " 
 
 " He wur a very good marster ; dar wur enuff to eat an to wear ; 
 this is an old suit of Maje Bob s I ve got on now. We old men 
 never wur lashed by ole M s, dough it wur defferent wid M s Bob ; 
 he laid it on heavy when he wur out o sorts. But I ve no com 
 plaint to make of de ole plantation. Mebbe I ll fare worse in de 
 Norf, in de way ob eatin or clo s I dunno." 
 
 " Why, then" 
 
 " It s de chance ! " he broke in, with a husky whisper. " Gor a 
 mighty ! it s de chance ! " The peculiar feature in this man which 
 had interested Markle was, that, as his secret self became visible, 
 he grew quieter, his intonations slow, his manner grave. There 
 was the magnetism in him of repressed force : power of which he 
 himself was scarcely cognizant ; he impressed the lieutenant curi 
 ously, as no other man, white or black, had ever done. 
 
 " The chance to be, what ? " he said, probing him. 
 
168 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Nathan looked steadily out into the falling rain. " Sometimes I 
 tink nothin but dis brute dat I am," passing his hand with a swift 
 motion over his face. " Other times " and then was silent. Mar- 
 kle stood by with a sense of powerlessness new to him. His life 
 long, he had worked with or fought his equals : a boy, or at col 
 lege, or in camp, life had been but a gay, eager keeping-step with 
 comrades ; but here was a call for strength outside of his world : 
 a man sinking into a slough which would be death to body and 
 soul, and he inefficient on the brink. 
 
 " Ther s bin. times dar in de stable," said Nathan, in his even, 
 controlled voice, " when I ve bin groomin de horses, or polishin 
 de harness, an tinkin , tinkin , of my people, downtrodden, w T id de 
 feet ob all nations on dem, and of de good Lord Jesus up yonder, 
 with his hands stretched out to loosen de bands of de captive and 
 let de oppressed go free, and of de hard faces of de white men dat 
 stand between Him an us, till dere wur a cry ud come into my 
 heart which de good God himself would have stopped to hear." 
 
 "What cry?" 
 
 The man s eyes turned on him with the unutterable need of one 
 drowning in sight of land. " How kin I say ? Suh, I m dumb. 
 I ve no words but dem of de stable or de kitchen." 
 
 Markle did not answer, turned his head, and looked out into the 
 sobbing rain to avoid the wistful eyes of the old man, which were 
 growing full of tears as they followed his face. " Suh, we ve bin 
 kept ign rant so dat we might be dumb. We can t speak words 
 dat de white folks ud listen to. We can t write em. If you 
 wrote Nathan dar on de wall, I wouldn t know it. How kin we 
 stan up and tell dis great nation de meanin of the cry in our 
 hearts ? How dat we wants de chance to use de souls dat de good 
 Lord gived us ? How dat we s tired of bein counted as beasts, 
 wid no better work or pleasure dan beasts ? De white folks hearts 
 must teach em what we wants. We se not got de words." 
 
 " As for slavery, that s dead," said Markle, emphatically. " That 
 first gun at Sumter sounded its knell, thank God ! Fremont has 
 recognized that truth." 
 
 "I tink dat s true, suh," slowly. "Mos* of our people tink 
 slavery s nigh done ; dey s quick to b leave dat ; dey s looked for 
 deliv rance so long. But dat s on y de beginnin . Dat was a great 
 wrong de white folks did to us. How s dey goin to make it up to 
 us?" 
 
 " I I don t know, uncle. It will come in good time," hesitated 
 Markle. " I don t think it has occupied public attention in the 
 North. The truth is, there s a prejudice against your color up 
 there." 
 
 "In de Norf? I tought dey wur all friends dar," suddenly 
 turning toward the northern sky line, the blankness of douVt 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 169 
 
 coming into his face. "Praps dem of my color dat goes dar is 
 onusual wicked, suh, longside of de whites as has had schools and 
 dere freedom always ? " 
 
 " No, not worse than the lower class of whites," said Markle, 
 uneasily. "We d better not talk about this matter any longer, 
 uncle. It s the color, I think." 
 
 " Yes, suh. I se been detainin you too long," humbly. " But 
 if you ll allow me, I ll jes say I can t believe dat. You s but a 
 young man, an I tink you s mistaken. What s de color got to do ? 
 I see a man once who d been bedridden dese many years. For de 
 want of use, his legs wur growed thin an totterin like a baby s; 
 he stuttered when he talked ; his mind wur nigh gone ; he wur 
 brought near to de borders of de grave, an lef dar. I tink de men 
 an women of de Norf ud jine hands to help a missebul wretch like 
 dat. I tink dey s had freedom dar in plenty, an schoolin , an easy 
 livin . Dey s glad to help the poor an weak to it." 
 
 "Well, Nathan?" 
 
 " I tought, suh," laying his hand on his stooped, gray head, " I se 
 like dat man I an my people. Would dem gentlmen of de 
 Norf hold back my chance from me an* trample me under foot 
 seem my great an utter need cause of de color of my skin ? 
 Suh, I can t believe it." 
 
 " If we reach the camp to-night," said Markle, abruptly, " what 
 are you going to do then, uncle ? " 
 
 Nathan did not reply for several moments ; drew out his gaudy, 
 yellow and black handkerchief, and passed it over his face, of which 
 the expression varied strangely. 
 
 " I fancied," said Markle, gently, " that you had some secret that 
 concerned you more nearly than even your escape from slavery. I 
 thought I might be able to help you." 
 
 " Yes, suh," slowly. " You was right. Dar is a matter " He 
 waited for a moment, and then said, " It wur my intention if I 
 reached de camp, bein free den, to go roun by de ribber, trough 
 de guverment lines, back to Alabama agin." He stopped suddenly. 
 
 " You have left some one there ? " ventured Markle. 
 
 " Yes, M s Markle." 
 
 "Your wife?" 
 
 " No, suh ; Anny s not dat." The gray pallor crept out again 
 over his yellow face, hardening its lines. " She wur a house-su vant 
 of Mist Larence s, an Mist would n hab her marry me ; but I 
 wur true to her all de same. It wur twelve years I use to go over 
 wunst a week to see . her Satu day night. De Larence plantation 
 wur fourteen miles off." 
 
 " Does she know you are coming ? " asked Markle, finding that 
 he remained silent. 
 
 Nathan wiped his lips, which had grown wrinkled and cold. 
 
170 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. . 
 
 " No, suh, she doesn t know. It s four year now since I see her 
 or Tom. Tom s my boy, suh," with an involuntary erection of nis 
 whole figure. " When I went dar one Saturday night, expectin to 
 find dem as usual, de little cabin wur shut up an empty, an de 
 mudder an Tom wur sent away. No, suh, dey wasn t sold. Mist 
 Larence s sister, Mrs. Fairview, had swapped a coach-driver, dough, 
 agin de mudder. It s forty-five mile down de country. I couldn t 
 walk dat an back in de Saturday night, so I nebber see dem since." 
 
 " Nor heard ? " 
 
 " Me nor Anny couldn t write, suh ; but Fairview s Jake, he s 
 overseer, he wur down last Spring s a year, an he told me dat dey 
 wur livin an well. He said Tom wur de peartest little un on de 
 Fairview place. I b leave dat, suh ! He fetched me a handkercher 
 from Anny. Her mist gib it to her Christmas. It wur white, an 
 Anny had sewed it wid red thread fur me, an dat little debbil had 
 blotted it wid pokeberry juice. Dat s my name, he said. Jake 
 he kerned it in his bag so s de blots mightn t git washed out by 
 accident. I took it berry kind in Jake. Dat was peart in Tom, 
 suh," after a pause. 
 
 " Yes, it was. So you are going round by water," thoughtfully. 
 " Our troops have not touched on Alabama yet." 
 
 "No, suh?" calmly. "Dey will soon, I s pose. I feel it as 
 dough de Lord said dat Anny an me ud hev a home togedder yit, 
 whar I ll not see her jess once a week after walkin fourteen mile. 
 An Tom dar s de makin of a wunnerful man in dat boy, suh ! 
 He s got de handy fingers of our fam ly," with a hesitating glance 
 at the young man s face. Reading encouragement in it, the little 
 drop of vanity leaked out. " My fader learned locksmithing 
 heself, suh, he wur so xpert wid his hands. He b longed to de 
 Randolphs of Kentucky. He wur one of de oncommonest men dar- 
 about, I heerd say." 
 
 " You never saw him ? " 
 
 " Nebber since I wur a boy. His wife, she b longed to Mars 
 Strebling, ye see. Dar wur de two of us chillen, my bradder Sap 
 an me. Sap wur a heap younger dan me. Ole Mist Barby, Mars 
 Jeems wife, she used to keep Sap about de house, count of his 
 xtraordinary cuteness in makin little tings an usin tools. He d 
 whittle rings an chains fur de ladies out of muscle-shells an gum 
 copal, Sap would." 
 
 Now Markle belonged to a family with a strong instinct of blood 
 kinship for each other. It mattered a great deal to him whom his 
 commonplace brothers married. It would have cost him and them 
 a bitter pang to give up their little family feast-days, their birth 
 days or Christmas gatherings, or to sell the old plat of ground 
 which they had beautified as best they could, where their uncle and 
 grandfathers, all the Markles, indeed, that could be brought there 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 171 
 
 to rest, lay buried. It touched him to see the same feeling reflected 
 in the old mulatto and his kin, who had no common name to link 
 them together. 
 
 " You must be near your father now ? " he said, with a real interest 
 which brightened old Nathan s face. 
 
 " No, suh," doubtfully. " Kentucky s a moughty big place. I se 
 not heerd frum him dese thirty year. His name wur Hugh. When 
 de Mist Strebling moved to Alabama, an took my mudder from 
 him, I heerd it nigh killed de ole man. He wur a quiet, tender 
 hearted man, dey say. Ole Mast Coyle Randolph use to visit our 
 place, an he could easy ve fetched him along ; but he never did. 
 It wurn t kind in him. I d tramp all over Kentucky ef I tought 
 I d see my fader. But he s dead now s likely. When M.aje Bob 
 brought me up to camp fur groom, I axed him whar wur de Ran 
 dolph place, but he said de ole man wur dead long ago." 
 
 " And your brother ? " 
 
 " I didn t tell you bout Sap ? Dat was de curousest of all. M s 
 Jeems, he took Sap Norf wid him to tend some horses he wur goin 
 to race, an one of dem people dey call Friends cause dey s friends 
 to us, she axes de loan of him of ole M s, to try what could be 
 made of him. Af erwards she sends de price of Sap to M s, sayin 
 he had oncommon skill in machinery. Af erwards she sent word 
 he was dead. Since dat we ve heerd no more. But dere s been 
 times when it has come home certain to me dat Sap was not dead. 
 I tink if I could find him in de Norf, an bring Tom an his mudder 
 to him, what a joyful meetin dat ud be. Ef he wur libin , an 
 Anny an me got Norf, d ye tink we d likely find him, suh ? " 
 
 " The North is a wide place, Nat." 
 
 " Yes, bigger dan Kentucky, I reckon. But, tinkin it over so 
 long, it s allers been borne in on me dat we d all meet dar some 
 day." 
 
 Burley opened the inner door, and Nathan grew suddenly silent, 
 knowing by instinct that he was to Joe not a man, but a nigger. 
 But the lonely, quiet old fellow had a new hold on Markle, now 
 that he had a glimpse of the solitary years dragged out in the 
 stable loft, polishing harness, and making plans for the father, and 
 brother, the wife and son, who had literally been more like dreams 
 than realities in his life. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 
 
 NIGHT began to fall. With the increasing cold the rain froze into 
 A fine, sleety mist, which drove fiercely into the open door of the 
 hut. The men in the back room made ready for departure, carrying 
 
172 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 with them the remaining scraps of the cold meat and bread, and a 
 canteen full of whiskey. Joe and the mulatto busied themselves 
 last in bandaging Markle s wounded leg, Burley persisting in taking 
 off his own leggings to envelope the whole. 
 
 " I wonder which on us three 11 be left behind ? " he said as he 
 rose from his knees. " I doubt we ll not all come safe out of this 
 scrape. I had a feelin that this vally was onclean and onwholesome 
 when I come in it, as if ghosts, from some murder done, walked 
 here, but I found none. I judge one of us 11 be the sacrifice," 
 looking at Markle with an attempt at a laugh. 
 
 " I should hardly call any death in time of warfare unfair. You 
 and I gave up our hold on life when we went into this matter, Joe, 
 and, for my part, I blame nobody that takes it. But," glancing at 
 Nathan at his feet, "in peace in cold blood, with the name of 
 Christ upon the lips, to sap out the life of a man, that is what I 
 name murder," vehemently. " To leave him neither citizenship, 
 family, woman s virtue, mind, to shut out God from him, as far as 
 in them lay ! I think this country is filled with ghosts of murders 
 done ! I hope God may teach the North how to lay them." 
 
 Burley uttered an indistinct, bewildered growl. Nathan looked 
 up, at first quickly, and then, unable to trace the young man s 
 meaning, turned indifferently away, raking out the few smouldering 
 coals. When he had done this he came up to the pallet on which 
 Markle sat, and stood with his palms together, balancing himself 
 slowly on his heels and toes. 
 
 " Well, Nathan ? " 
 
 " We se nigh ready now, suh. Dar s on y one ting dat I hab not 
 mentioned afore. I tought I d leave you now ontil de time arrived 
 when we shell go, wid God s leave. I had a little plan of my own 
 I d like to kerry out." 
 
 Joe looked round at him suspiciously, but Markle nodded a prompt 
 assent, asking no questions. 
 
 "It s dis way, suh," lowering his voice. "You said dar wur 
 thousands of young men come to help me an my kin to freedom. 
 I don t want, when we kum into camp, dat dey call us lazy niggers, 
 not wurf de freedom. We d like to help ourselves, my people 
 would, ef we knowed de way. I tought I d like when I goed wid 
 you an M s, hyur, into camp to-morrow, to kerry somefin as ud 
 make em see dat we knowed all you gentlemens of de Norf hes 
 done, an dat we tanked you kindly ? " touching his forehead. 
 
 " What did you propose to do, Nathan ? " 
 
 " I hear dat Gunnel Garfield is ig rant of de number of de forces 
 under M s Marshall, hyur. Dar s a company of cavalry down at 
 Jennie s Creek, an dat may mislead de Gunnel I meant to take dat 
 information, suh." 
 
 "Can you get it?" 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 173 
 
 " Yes, suh. Dai- s a friend of mine, wid Maje Bob s hoises by m ; 
 Gunnel Wilder, he s been over in jsamp, an he give me de word of 
 honor dat I shell have dat information to-night. In certain num 
 bers, suh." 
 
 "You will insure yourself a welcome, Nathan," said Markle, 
 heartily. " I will be glad if you can do it, if but for your own safte. 
 It will be of use to you hereafter." He looked after the man with 
 a kindly smile. It amused him to see that, with his hand out 
 stretched toward freedom, he had no thought, like Burley, of the 
 chance of death between. His yellow face was lighted with nervous 
 expectation. He laughed in a shrill, childish treble at every silly 
 little mishap in their preparations, in a way which Burley thought 
 half idiotic. "He has begun to taste his freedom," thought 
 Markle. " De mudderj" and the home they would find together ; 
 the brother, who would be discovered yonder in purple and fine 
 linen, as Joseph was of his brethren ; the old man who had been 
 " xpert with his fingers," and who would come to die among them 
 after some quiet, patriarchal years ; most of all, the peart little 
 chap who would take to schooling, to white folks ways, would be 
 a lawyer, doctor, preacher, but, in any case, stand breast-high, firm, 
 and in the front rank of them all. These things were realities to 
 Nathan. They had bided their time, and long; but they were 
 coming. A white man, so near to the goal after forty years delay, 
 would have been shaken with the last uncertain breaths in soul 
 and body, would have found that doubtful pause before final 
 certainty, harder to live through than all of his hopeless youth and 
 manhood. But to Nathan the hope was certainty. Pie buttoned 
 his coat, and pulled down his napless beaver hat over his face, pre 
 paring to go out into the pitiless night, already in possession of 
 home, freedom, of Anny and his boy. Yet he turned back again 
 for a moment. 
 
 " De skiff 11 be at de end of de gully, under dat dead tree, suh, 
 jess at midnight. I ll hev got hyur fore dat, God willin , onless " 
 
 " Unless what ? " 
 
 "I se gwine to Gunnel Wilder s fur dat information, suh, you 
 know ? M s Jeems is still dar, I doubt, an an Ef I shudn t 
 kum back by midnight, don t wait de skiff, suh." 
 
 He stopped in the door, looking back into the young man s face, 
 some unutterable terror, the thought of all that he turned away 
 from in this venture, the chance of loss, painted in his discolored 
 face and piercing eyes. For a moment he was deaf and blind. J 
 Markle spoke to him, but he made no answer. 
 
 " Come back here," said Joe. " Garfield s got scouts. Let em 
 do their work. I ve a mind to see you through this bout, Nat, an 
 ther s no sense in yer goin .to put yer neck under halter agin, jest 
 as it s nigh out." 
 
174 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Nathan laughed nervously. " Bar s use in my earnin my free 
 dom, suh. But I ain t afeard ; I ll kum back ; I se got de Lord on 
 my side. Good night, gennlemen," taking off the beaver hat with 
 the little flourish, that belonged to his blood as much as the elastic 
 rebound to cheerfulness. He went down the bank into the road, 
 the dark outline of his figure soon lost in the storm and night. 
 Joe, squatted on a chunk of unhewn log, watched him go and 
 clapped his hands emphatically, first on one knee and then the 
 other, when he turned to Markle : 
 
 " Danged ef I ain t got attached to that Nat, in this one day ! 
 I spec that ther information might gain Garfield the day, an root 
 out the secesh from Eastern Kentucky, eh ? Well, now, d ye know, 
 I d feel, ef that fellar s took into slavery agin, as if it. had been dear 
 bought ? Es-pecially by Strebling." 
 
 He was silent, his stern face turned to the ground. 
 
 " You know Nat s master ? " said Markle, with surprise. 
 
 Burley nodded his solid head two or three times, with a pause 
 between ; the motion was as ponderous as another man s oath. 
 
 Markle, after a quick, shrewd scrutiny of the old man s face, kept 
 silence. The sleet, meanwhile, beat sharply on the roof, and the 
 ashes caked and crumbled at their feet in soft, dusty breaths. 
 
 "It s not," Joe s hoarse voice broke in gustily, "it s not alto 
 gether the harm he did me. Mebbe I could forgive that. But, 
 ther s somethin in the very look and voice of Jeems Strebling, 
 even in his gingerly walk, that riles all the black drop in me. He s 
 mean, he s shaller ; that refinement of his n is like the froth on that 
 dirty pool outside the door. Somehow, when he comes nigh me, 
 with the remembrance of that old hurt beside, it is as if the devil 
 was stirrin all the murder up in me. I ain t myself then. I ain t 
 Joe Burley, somehow. I ve got lots of friends, you know, Leftenant ; 
 lots of friends in camp ; same way at home ; but when I see that 
 man, t seems as if I hadn t one; as if ther was nobody but him 
 an me, and I d got now to crush his soul out of his mean, little 
 body. Sometimes, Leftenant, I get afraid of the end of it ? " looking 
 at Markle, with a weight of doubt and dread in his heavy eye. 
 
 " I suppose, Joe," cheerfully, " the devil takes a visible shape to 
 most of us, at times. I am not afraid of the end of it for you. 
 You keep the Good Man nearer than any man I know, as near as a 
 woman. He ll be there when the time comes." 
 
 " I hope so, sir," gravely. " But I d rather hev a little warnin 
 before comin across that man, anyhow. As for me," gathering 
 himself up forcibly, after a little reflection, " as for me lovin my 
 neighbor as myself, I m not that sort. Ther s men I m willin to 
 help, the more because I hate myself for hatin them. But the back 
 of my hand s to them, an I d hev to turn my natur inside out 
 before I d get that hand turned to grip theirs as friends. An 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 175 
 
 ther s another sham lot " (for Joe s tongue was fairly loose now, 
 and his heart opened) " that I don J; hate. Only when they come 
 afore me with their mincing, unnateral ways, an piping, false tones, 
 I feel as if I d like to roar and curse and growl out all the bad that s 
 in me, jest to let them hear a nateral voice. Rossline s jest that 
 way. I ve seed it in her face, when I had it in my mind. Ross- 
 line -s a Burley ther s no froth in her natur." 
 
 " What time, Joe ? " abruptly, for he had a fancy that in this des 
 ultory talk, they were walking among graves, known to the old 
 man. Burley lugged out a thick silver watch. 
 
 " Seven o clock. Nathan hes five hours afore him." 
 
 They fell into silence after that. The storm, as the hours neared 
 midnight, cleared away, and a watery, gray light, a prelude to the 
 coming moonlight, thinned and softened the sky up from the hori 
 zon. The distincter light made them more cautious ; they spoke in 
 whispers ; Joe put out his pipe ; tried to smother his sneezes and 
 coughs, which broke out, perforce, in hoarse bellows now and then. 
 From the background of the room, where they sat in shadow, they 
 could look down into the open stubble field below the hut, and see 
 the black blot that marked the entrance to the gully between the 
 mountains. The shifting, feeble rays of the moon were beginning 
 to loom decisive , in the air ; the black skeletons of the trees that 
 lined the base of the mountain, and, above them, its blue-gray, 
 slaty-face rocks, down which the trickling water made a shining 
 glimmer. A dead silence reigned, save when the plash of the rain 
 and sleet, falling from some weighted branch, startled them. 
 
 " Ther s no securer hidin than here, till time for the skift," whis 
 pered Joe. " We d better lay low till midnight. I kin kerry you 
 through that gully in a few minutes. It s likely Nat 11 be at t other 
 side, waitin in the boat." 
 
 Markle nodded gravely. He feared that, of the three who had 
 kept watch that day in the hut, but two would be taken, and the 
 other left. He had a depressing conviction which he could not shake 
 off that Nat and his people were born to an heirship of hopeless 
 ill-luck and disaster. First, slavery ; and then, he had lately been 
 among the hordes of contrabands crowding over into Ohio and 
 Indiana. They were mad with the thirst for freedom. Lincoln 
 was a Messiah to them. The year of jubilee had come, in which, 
 all their loss and wrongs were to be repaired a thousand fold, and 
 at once. They congregated tumultuously wherever there was a 
 Federal camp, expecting to find, under the shelter of the flag, 
 clothes, food, and little work. Bringing into this promised land 
 only their rags and ignorance, they were unconquerably lazy, and 
 childishly credulous and affectionate ; the Land of Promise was not 
 ready for them; small-pox and fever had broken out among them, 
 and between disease and w r ant they were dying by the score 
 
176 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Nathan belonged to the more self-reliant, industrial class of refu 
 gees. " But he ll fare no better than the others," thought the young 
 officer, " even if he escapes." 
 
 He sighed as he tied the woollen comforter about his ears which 
 the careful old fellow had hung within his reach. Men capable of 
 this dogged loyalty to their friends, and the fierce bravery they 
 showed when tested, deserved better recognition of the world. 
 But what could the young soldier do ? Nat was but one of a great, 
 inert, miserable mass. Who could lift it ? 
 
 " What is it, Leftenant?" 
 
 " Nothing. I was only thinking that poor Nat s dream of seeing 
 c de mudder and Tom hold the place which any white man s wife 
 or child occupy, is likely never to be anything but a dream. No 
 matter what power or culture he may acquire, tho lowest emigrant 
 that comes to our shores would look down on him." 
 
 "Sartinly, ef he s a nigger," said Joe, composedly. "A fellar 
 draws a blank in the world ef he hes a black skin, and he ken t 
 make a prize out of it, nohow." 
 
 " I think I d try," said the young white man, quietly laying one 
 hand slowly on the other, his face a shade paler. 
 
 Burley made no answer, and again the hut and dreary fields 
 without waited in silence, while the wintry moonlight whitened 
 over the sky, and drew upon the wet mountain sides and valley 
 below, troops of motionless, unfamiliar shadows. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE LOST CHANCE. 
 
 THE room into which Nathan looked was filled with men who 
 had drawn, according to Joe, blanks in life. They were, however, 
 apparently contented with their luck, which was the worst sign of 
 its worthlessness. It was one of the cabins of the Wilder quarters ; 
 a comfortable cabin belonging to Aunt Phebe, the cook. The 
 colonel had a great supper that night, and two or three covered tin 
 pails had been brought out the back way. There were turkey 
 bones, cranberry pie, chunks of white bread dipped in gravy. 
 There was a big fire at which they sat roasting first their faces and 
 then their backs. There were horrible, relishing scraps of news 
 about the battles which Phebe had caught at the dining-room door. 
 There was old Mussy with his fiddle ; there were Ben and Joe with 
 their jokes which made even old Uncle Pike grin against his will. 
 What better than this could they have ? Colonel Wilder, out of 
 sheer kindness of heart, gilded the blank until it seemed very like 
 a prize. However, they stopped eating to listen to the bits of 
 gossip. Of turkey and pie they knew the taste, but this expecta 
 tion and mystery were new in flavor. Their masters might shut 
 out their possible future far from them as they would, but when the 
 bugle began to sound among the lines of tents up on " Mars Tho- 
 burn s meddar;" when Ben and Joe themselves dug a grave for 
 the Virginia captain picked off by a sharpshooter by the ford, these 
 were miracles which portended a new order of things ; and the 
 name " abolition war " brought the meaning of the miracles directly 
 under the comprehension of every one of them. 
 
 "Pears to me," said Mussy, looking over his fiddle, "as if dat 
 bugle wur de clarion ob de Lord. De light s dawnin . De time s 
 come when de da ater ob my people ill arise an bress God wid 
 satisfaction ob heart." 
 
 " Pears to me, then, that you re a fool," said a pert mulatto boy 
 in the door, who, dressed in a suit of young Wilder s, was looking 
 down superciliously on the room and its inmates. "They only 
 want to get us North to sell us agin. Will any of the dam Yankees 
 give me clothes like these, or Miss Clarindy her ear-bobs ? " pulling 
 at a pair of gold drops, which dangled on the girl s shoulder. 
 
 The old man turned his owl-like face, with its round spectacles, 
 12 
 
178 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 on the dapper little fellow. "Dat talk s no better dan cracklin oo 
 thorns under de pot," he growled. " God forbid as I d leab M s 
 George, as he s bin like a son to me. But I m no hyp crit. I se 
 work for him free better dan slave, an I tell hisself so, of en. S 
 fur you, Jim, you se bin spiled into a no-account nigger ! " 
 
 Jim laughed, looking keenly around the shed meanwhile, until 
 his eye fell on a crack in the weather-boarding, through which a 
 pair of eyes shone in the darkness. " Good-by to you all," turn 
 ing quickly. " Good evenin , Miss Clarindy," strutting out with his 
 hands in his waistcoat pockets. Two or three shouts followed him, 
 which Mussy drowned out with vigorous scrapings of the last polka. 
 
 Outside, Jim, after closing the door, crept round the shed, and 
 found, as he expected, a dark figure silently climbing down from 
 the burrow under the chimney of another and lower hut. When 
 they were standing side by side on the road, Nathan drew the boy 
 deeper under the shadow. He held him by the coat-flap, glancing, 
 as he spoke, from side to side, stopping short and trembling at 
 the snapping of a twig, or a sudden pause in the noise inside. 
 
 " Wher um yer fadder, Jim ? It s done struck eleven I ve got 
 but one hour more. I bin a skulkin hyur since dark, an every 
 step s t de risk ob life." 
 
 "He s got you that information," said the boy in a sharp, decisive 
 voice, curiously different from that which he had used to the negroes. 
 " He ken t git away from Mars George out of the dinin -room : at 
 the last minute he sent me. Hyur s the numbers, in black and 
 white," giving him a greasy slip of paper. 
 
 Nathan drew a heavy breath as he took it. " I didn t like to 
 go empty-handed, ye see, Jim ? " putting it in his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 "No?" the boy s grave eyes fixed speculatively on the nervous, 
 distorted face. 
 
 " Say, Jim, you d better come along," whispered Nathan, wet 
 ting his parched lips with his tongue. "Dar s a mighty good 
 chance for boys like you in de Norf." 
 
 " No," promptly. " Though I thought of that. They ken t fool 
 me with ther lies agen the Yankees. But they say we ll all be 
 free hyur, an if things go on as they ve begun, Mars George 11 
 be poor enuff fore long. I think I ll stay an see it through. 
 He s been moughty kind to me." 
 
 " I thought by the way you talked to Mussy, you didn t keer fur 
 freedom," hesitated Nathan. 
 
 " Mussy s a leaky old fool. Ken t a man keep his mind to his- 
 self?" 
 
 " Yes. I ll go now, and tank you, kindly, Jim," holding out his 
 hand, in which he had doubtfully secreted a quarter of a dollar. 
 
 Jim put it back loftily. " I ve spendin -money enuff. Mars George 
 s plies me. Going on foot ? " 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 179 
 
 ** Praps," cautiously. 
 
 " Good-bye, then, uncle. I wish yer good luck up Norf, dar," 
 with a hesitating, earnest look. " But I ll fight it out long of Mass 
 George, reckon. You d better keep wide of the gap down to the 
 creek," carelessly, as he was turning away. 
 
 "What y mean, Jim?" 
 
 "Mass Strebling an Major Bob, and two or three more, rode 
 down that way late this evenin . I heard them say they was goin 
 to Fisher s Gap." 
 
 Nathan stood motionless, allowing the boy to pass him, going into 
 the path to the house. For one moment, sudden terror confused 
 his brain ; then thought came, quick and sharp. If they had ridden 
 to the gap, it was in search of him. It was no night to be out 
 riding for pleasure. It might be that the man who was to have 
 brought the skiff had played them false ; but at the second thought 
 he put that possibility angrily away ; perhaps the smoke had been 
 observed of their fire, or their voices heard. But, however they 
 had been betrayed, there was yet time for him to escape, by going 
 on foot across the mountains, and leaving Markle and Joe to their 
 fate. What that would be, he had little doubt, if they were ar 
 rested by Major Strebling as spies. The clock, as he cautiously 
 crept by the house, struck eleven; he walked with laggard, 
 heavy feet out of sight of the house into the shelter of a thick 
 woods, from which he could look straight across the sweep of 
 meadows and winding, sluggish water courses to the two moun 
 tain peaks, between which the gully lay like a black blotch. He 
 had an hour ; if his master had meant to go to the gap, it must 
 have been only after beating the country round ; there was no direct 
 bridle-road ; he might yet have time to warn them before Streb 
 ling came. 
 
 He started forward, walked a few steps, and then stopped, lifting 
 his hat off mechanically, and passing his hand over his bald crown 
 again and again. There was every chance that he was too late : 
 that the Streblings had secured the men, and were lying in wait for 
 him. If he walked into that open trap, there was nothing beyond 
 but slavery. He stood irresolute, the thumpings of his heart under 
 the tawdry old waistcoat checking off the moments; turned the 
 napless hat about, smoothing it with his sleeve, with quick, furtive 
 glances at the road which led to the mountains and freedom, and 
 at the slope down to the gully. Then he drew one or two long, 
 ineffectual breaths; his throat seemed tightening, choking him. 
 He was near to the goal near ! The mother an Tom, the brother 
 he was to find ; it all seemed like a dream now, dim, receding. 
 
 But the comrades yonder in the gap whom he had left a few 
 hours before they were reality ; he had his ration of bread and 
 pork in his pocket now, as Markle had divided it, laughing and 
 
180 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 promising him as good a meal as he ever ate when they came to 
 Dubuque, some day. Major Bob would shoot down that little man 
 like a dog on suspicion of being a spy ! 
 
 He pulled on the hat again, and turning to the gully, ran swiftly 
 down the slope toward it, leaving his chance behind. Nor, as he 
 went, had he any back-looking regrets or pang for what he had 
 given up ; he had not coolly weighed one course and its results 
 against the other. He went to help them, running into the jaws 
 of his old slavery because he was a negro, and took care of the 
 present moment, and let the future take care of itself; besides, he 
 was certain, without reason, that when Markle and Joe were safe, 
 he and the wife and boy would find the good home waiting and 
 ready for them in the North ; because he was a man, and with every 
 step he took toward the men who were in peril, that fever of cour 
 age grew on him and possessed him which drives the soldier into 
 battle with a shout, who would have whined and trembled before a 
 lingering sickness. 
 
 He felt his bones grow supple, and the blood throb hotly as he 
 leaped over fences, climbed down the rocks, and waded through the 
 icy creek. 
 
 " I se bound to get dar in time," he muttered breathlessly. " De 
 Lord s on my side." 
 
 He broke down soon, and was forced to walk slower, panting, to 
 recover his strength. He was the more tired because he could 
 neither sing nor whistle. He crept stealthily through one or two 
 negro quarters on his way, for the land is broken up into small 
 farms here. But the huts and farm-house alike were wrapped in 
 sleep. At last he reached the creek ; before he had gone through 
 more than one field opening on the muddy bank, he heard a man s 
 step coming toward him, making a weak effort to tread lightly on 
 the crackling stubble. Nathan dropped behind a thicket of scrub 
 oaks. The moonlight fell full on the figure of the intruder, a 
 shambling, over-sized mulatto, with skin of a muddy, sickly white. 
 
 Nathan, seeing him, came out boldly. " You dar, Steve ? " 
 
 The fellow threw out one hand to keep him off. " Now, fur de 
 lub of God, let me go. I se out widout a pass; you knows dat. 
 I se done my sheer." 
 
 " Is de skiff dar?" 
 
 " Yes, it s dar," in a shrill, terrified whisper. " I fetched it down 
 below de gully. Ole mars is scourin de country like de debbil." 
 
 " Is he by de gully?" 
 
 " Praps dey is by dis time ; Major Bob an some o dera sojers 
 dey long. Thoburn s overseer, he fotched word dat you an a 
 white man wur hid along de creek, and M ars, he tought you 
 mought be in de gully, or so high as de mill. Dey went fust to de 
 mill." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 181 
 
 Nat stayed for no parting words, but broke into the thicket .oj 
 again, with a new chill creeping through his veins. If he had been f 
 arrested in an effort to escape, he would have dreaded nothing 
 worse than a lashing ; but to be found in company with a Yankee 
 spy was another matter. But his blood was up now, and he pushed d v 
 on resolutely. The moonlight was clear, differing from day only 
 in its spectral whiteness. The yielding mud of the fields, that had 
 clogged his feet, began to harden in the freezing air, forming a 
 3rust that broke crisply as he tramped on it. His road led him along 
 the shore of the creek. When the gully lay but half a mile in 
 advance, he stopped to consider. On his right hand was the broad, 
 creeping stream ; in front rose the mountain, on the far side of which 
 opened the gap. But on his left hand, before he reached the moun 
 tain, was a long, sharp-ridged hill, from the top of which he could 
 command a clear view of the inside country, and of the circuitous 
 course of the path by which Strebling and his party must approach. 
 It needed but a moment s pause to determine ; then, with the aid of 
 the straggling roots and saplings, he scaled the rocky ascent. The 
 wind attacked him clamorously as he reached the top. Taking 
 shelter under a bent cedar, he covered his eyes with his hand and 
 looked slowly with bated breath up the road that unfolded like a 
 curling, yellow belt through the valley below him. 
 
 At first when his eye had passed cautiously along from point to 
 point, he gave a motion of quick relief; then, with a sudden shiver 
 knelt down throwing his arm over his head, and threw himself for 
 ward flat on the ground, eye and ear fixed like a pointers, on a 
 group of scarce perceptible moving shadows, rapidly approaching 
 from a spot where the road cut through a clump of trees. 
 
 A moment s keen survey, then he dragged himself up. 
 
 The road was circuitous ; that gave him time. He thought of 
 this as he plunged down the hill-side, with eyes half closing, and 
 teeth firmly set. He thought he could reach the gully in time to 
 save Markle and Joe. But for himself, it was noticeable that 
 from the first sight of his master and his companions riding 
 gallantly along the road, his courage and hope died suddenly 
 and utterly out. James Strebling s lean, dainty person, the moods , 
 on his dish-shaped, sandy face, were the highest absolute law to 
 Nat ; he never had known any other : and law came to him 
 with its usual vague, invincible terrors to the vulgar and ignorant. 
 He did not reason, nor struggle. The stable, the harness to rub, 
 the long, sleepless, thoughtful nights, that was what life had for him. 
 Tom growing up into a handsome, strong man, unseen, and un 
 known, Anny finding some other husband ; for she was yet young, 
 he had thought of that possibility before. And the home in the 
 North which might have been, was waiting and ready. But it was 
 not for him. 
 
182 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 He stopped then, and putting his hand in the breast of his coat, 
 drew out a pistol, rusty and patched. Years ago, he had found it, 
 and tinkered it into shape, moulding bullets whenever he got a bit 
 of lead, to be ready for this day. The day had come now, and the 
 hour. He inspected the cap, and keenly. If it came to a hand to 
 hand fight, he could hold his own. He could put the muzzle to the 
 breast of any of those gray-coated soldiers who were hounding him 
 down, who stood between him and freedom, and send them to hell, 
 composedly. 
 
 But M s Strebling and Major Bob ? His hand shook, his eye 
 T\ andered unsteadily. Against his will there rose before him re 
 membrances of kindnesses which Strebling, in his stiff, pompous 
 way had showed to him ; of money he had thrown him when pass 
 ing through the stable yard, of little dishes sent from the house 
 table when he was sick in his loft. Trifling kindnesses, perhaps ; 
 but the money had been given with a joke, and Strebling had 
 heaped the dishes with his own hand, choosing of the best. As for 
 
 young M s ; he was angry that the usual warm, jolly feeling 
 
 crept into his heart which the thoughts of the genial, vain young 
 fellow always brought with it. Once or twice the boy had lashed 
 him with his own hand, in his tempests of fury. There was a scar 
 across Nathan s bald pate where his leaded whip had laid the flesh 
 open to the skull, one day, while the gray-headed man stood humbly 
 holding his horse. But none of the servants remembered these 
 things. He was always ready to beg a holiday for them, to 
 contrive that they shared his own. On the days when Nathan 
 had been going to see Anny, at Fairview s, the lad had never failed 
 to get him off an hour or two earlier, or to run out with some gaudy 
 cravat or jacket of his own, in which Nathan might look his best. 
 More than that, he had inspected him anxiously, as if he cared how 
 he looked. 
 
 Nathan uncocked his pistol and dropped it in his pocket. 
 
 He was a chattel once more. He remembered, as he crept ovev 
 the slippery edge of the rocks, that his people stood as he did, 
 through all the South, with their hands stretched out for freedom, 
 knowing that if this chance failed, the day of their deliverance 
 would never dawn ; and though they fought bravely when they 
 were suffered in the ranks, there had been no midnight murders, no 
 insurrection. 
 
 " De marsters didn t know de harm dey done, mebbe* I se 11 not 
 strike de hand dat s been kind to me. I se 11 not disgrace my 
 color," muttered the man who had henceforth no name but Nathan. 
 
 He plodded on; a ridiculous object enough, if he could have met 
 the eyes of fun-loving Major Bob, caracoling along on the other side 
 of the road on his finely appointed black mare. His old dress-coat 
 was buttoned tightly about Nathan s spare figure, the red shirt 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 183 
 
 protruding in blotches, the tails hanging tattered and wet ; the 
 high hat battered down over the ..worn, sickly, coffee-colored face. 
 Coat, and hat, and face, alike worn out and abused, were all of the 
 man that his young master could ever see or know ; but there was 
 One that night who looked with like tenderness into the hearts of 
 master and slave, and judged both with juster eyes than ours. 
 
 When the hill and mountain were both skirted, Nathan had 
 reached the end of the gully which opened on the river ; the hut 
 lay near the other end, between him and the pursuers. Once he 
 had caught a faint echo of their horses hoofs, but it had died out. 
 Out of sight of them the man s heart began to flutter again feebly. 
 If it were possible even yet ! He stooped down and began to 
 run, groping along the bushes that hung over the water, searching 
 for the skiff. If he could bring it up to the gap it would need but 
 a moment to summon the men; once in the boat there were hiding 
 places all along the shore, where they could be safe until the danger 
 was past. As he was scrambling along, half in the water, like a 
 dog, a heavy hand caught his shoulder. 
 
 " Nathan ? " Joe s mountainous shape rose before him from out 
 of the undergrowth. 
 
 " It s me, suh. De skiff! dey s on us," in an unnaturally quiet 
 voice. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Ole M s. It s you and me, suh, he s huntin . I spect I se got 
 to go." 
 
 " James Strebling ? Is he coming here to-night ? Hunting me 
 like a wild beast ? Let me go, Nathan," gravely disengaging his 
 sleeve from the mulatto s hand. " I ve had business a long while 
 with him. It can be done to-night as well as any other time." 
 The voice was calm as usual, but Nat felt the old man s burly form 
 shake under his hand as if writhing under a blow. 
 
 " M s Markle, suh ? Dar s a co prals guard wid M s Strebling." 
 
 "I forgot the Leftenant. Ther s that skifft under the paw-paw 
 bush yonder. Tow it up to the end of the gap an I ll kerry the 
 little fellar down. Did you get that ther information ? " 
 
 " Yes, suh." He stopped with one foot in the water. " Kin I 
 go? Don t leab me wid M s Strebling. It s my las chance, suh." 
 
 " Yes, in God s name, yes," Burley growled out, almost angrily. 
 The sight of the poor wretch tugged at his heart with such a sense 
 of absolute pain. As he went lumbering up to the hut he thought 
 he heard a sound of stealthy footsteps and whispers beyond, on the 
 other side of the rocks. But they ceased almost as soon as heard. 
 
 Nathan towed the skiff down, walking in the water lest his steps 
 should crush the brittle twigs with which the shore was strewed. 
 He saw Burley leave the hut, half carrying Markle over the ruts. 
 He held his breath, looking for them to be stopped by the flash and 
 
184 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 report of a rifle. But they came swiftly and silent as shadows, 
 through the moonlit space. Markle scrambled nimbly as a cat 
 into the skiff, catching the mulatto s hand with a hearty grip as soon 
 as he could reach him. 
 
 " Now for it, comrade ! Hurra for the old flag and freedom ! " 
 in a cheery whisper that brought the blood tingling hot and fresh 
 to Nat s heart. 
 
 Buiiey meanwhile was fumbling in the bottom of the boat. 
 " Ther s only one oar," he said, looking up, blankly. 
 
 " No matter ; we must make it answer," said Markle, sharply. 
 
 " Dar s no time to lose. Dey ought to have reached de gully by 
 now," Nat muttered, a clammy sweat breaking out over his face. 
 But Joe, without heeding them, stepped out of the skiff, and pushed 
 it rapidly up the stream under the shadow of some impending 
 rocks. 
 
 " It will lose time in the end to go with one. Ther s a piece of 
 board yander in the hut that ll serve ; " and, without waiting to 
 argue the point, he turned back and reentered the ravine. 
 
 The silence was oppressive. The two men strained their ears to 
 catch any sound which might warn them of the approach of the 
 men. One, two, three minutes passed, and Burley did not return. 
 Nathan moved uneasily from bow to stern. The time lengthened. 
 
 " Ef you re willin , suh," said Nathan, rising, " I ll step yander an 
 look up de gully to see where he be." 
 
 Markle nodded, and the mulatto, after carefully pushing the boat 
 out of sight into the little cove, crept cautiously into the open space 
 and peered toward the hut. He saw nothing ; but taking a step or 
 two forward, a riding whip fell on his arm, and looking up, he found 
 himself face to face with Major Bob. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE GHOST OF A MURDER DONE. 
 
 BURLEY, not finding his bar of wood in the hut, was groping for 
 it outside, when a step beyond in the field caught his ear. A mo 
 ment after, a board from the opposite wall of the hovel was 
 wrenched violently away, and looking in through a crack, he saw 
 Strebling s sandy face, with its perpetual half smile on it, thrust 
 through the aperture, peering eagerly from left to right, noting the 
 yet smouldering ashes, the straw pallet on which Markle had lain, 
 the empty whiskey flask. Then he disappeared for a moment and 
 came in at the door, turning over the straw and ashes with his cane 
 in a gingerly way, at which Joe laughed grimly through all his rage 
 and alarm. There was no time to lose, however. Strebling, it waa 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 185 
 
 probable, would be followed by others who would be keen-witted 
 enough to make use of the scent -which he had discovered, and 
 which, judging from his face, had reduced him to total imbecility ; 
 with mild, surprised dismay. What between the suddenness of his 
 peril, and his hatred of the man which had become a part of his 
 nature, Burley felt his knees shake under him, and a clammy sweat 
 break out over his body. 
 
 His narrow forehead cowered, and his eyes, staring on his old 
 enemy through the crack, burned vindictively. Margaret s old 
 wrong, however held out of sight, had been one of the few ideas 
 which had given to his contracted life consistence ; it had always 
 been present, a latent, smouldering fever, which at a touch rose to 
 madden him. 
 
 He cocked his pistol and levelled it, thinking vaguely something 
 about Strebling having been sent there to meet his reward ; but he 
 did not fire. 
 
 Thinking, as his bony forefinger flattened itself about the trigger, 
 that in another second it would be too late ; that Strebling would 
 step back out of range, give the alarm, and there would be no 
 further chance for the men in the boat, or himself. The muzzle 
 shook as it rested in the knot-hole ; yet he did not fire. 
 
 Thinking that Strebling was a Rebel, that the shot which took 
 his life was only just work in defence of the Government: passing 
 his disengaged hand over his wet forehead. Turning, he saw 
 four or five men huddled together, coming rapidly up to the 
 hut, two of their number being left on the road. He had but 
 one chance to fire at the man inside. The shot he knew would 
 bring the sentinels, with the others, for a moment into the hut, and 
 then he would have a breathing space for escape. The moonlight 
 fell upon their faces, and they were so near that he could trace 
 every feature. Within, Strebling had raised himself, and was tap 
 ping with his rattan on the floor for the men to approach. It was 
 not Burley s habit to reason; but he did it in that breathless 
 moment as he took surer aim at the slim, padded figure. It was 
 only the patriotic work he had come there to do. Besides, the man 
 had wrought well for death at his hands : it was duty, self-defence, 
 justice. 
 
 The pistol in his trembling hand fell by his side. 
 
 " It s murder," he said, quietly, half aloud, and turned his back 
 on the hut. Yet he never hated Strebling with such unsated re 
 venge as when he spared his life. From the shadow in which he 
 stood concealed, the ground fell in a gentle slope to the entrance of 
 the gully, bare of trees and lighted clearly by the moon. The men 
 had stopped, whispering together, and stood directly between him 
 and his path to the boat. They were all armed, some of them with 
 their pistols in hand. Joe examined the cap on his own, and with 
 
186 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 : V A a sharp breath and fierce, back-turned look to Rosslyn, and the 
 Good Man, and home, dashed headlong among them. 
 
 One he thrust aside ; a blow from the bar of wood which he held, 
 levelled another. The men, taken utterly by surprise, staggered 
 apart, looking after him as he ran toward the gully. Then they 
 broke into oaths, and half a dozen bullets rattled about him as they 
 followed him pell-mell, Strebling at the hut-door shouting shrilly to 
 them. They were young men ; but the fury that had possessed 
 him gave Burley new strength. He turned at the entrance to 
 the gully and fired, aiming at the foremost, who fell with it? 
 ball in his knee; the second shot made another reel back. Jot> 
 heard no step near him as he passed through the ravine, now 
 clearly lighted. Plunging into the low undergrowth that edged 
 the shore, he ran, stooping like a dog, toward the boat. It lay 
 completely hid by the shadow, but Markle had dragged hiw- 
 self out on the muddy bank, and was pulling himself along from 
 one tree to another, his useless leg trailing after him as Burley cama 
 up to him. 
 
 " I heard the shots I was coming." 
 
 Joe gave a fierce, nervous laugh. " In with you, Leflenant." 
 
 " Not without Nathan. Where is he ? " 
 
 " God knows. Strebling s got him, I reckon," lifting the smalle* 
 man unceremoniously into the skiff. The men had reached the 
 creek bank about twenty yards above them, the thicket of paw-pan* 
 bushes intervening, and, after a moment s baffled pause of curse?; 
 and random shots, they divided to beat the shore in pursuit. Burley 
 paused with one foot on the gunwale. 
 
 " I ken t leave that darkey." 
 
 The steps crushing through the bushes drew rapidly nearer. 
 
 " Look yonder," whispered Markle ; " we can do nothing." 
 
 Joe looked up to a sort of plateau on the mountain side just 
 above them, where, by the clear moonlight, they saw Nathan aiA 
 his master. Major Bob had evidently driven him there for the pur 
 pose of reconnoitreing. The gold lace on his uniform glittered as 
 he stooped over the precipice, glancing from side to side along tJ>t> 
 river. Even in the act of watching, his gallant face and figure were 
 careless, insouciant. Poor old Nat was behind him, leaning against 
 the rocks, his hands hanging by his side inert and limp. 
 
 " It s too late," said MarkLe. 
 
 Burley nodded, and stepping into the skiff, he pushed it down 
 the stream close to the edge of the shore. Neither man spoke for 
 some minutes, each of them glancing now and then up at the lonely, 
 miserable figure which, with its tattered old hat and clothes that 
 had aped the gentleman, lay, rather than stood, against the hill, like 
 one whom fate had grown tired of torturing, and thrown aside. 
 Defeat was in every draggled, motionless limb. Even in the ino 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 187 
 
 ment of their extreme peril, the contrast between the slave and his 
 master touched both men in the boat. Joe could not be quiet. 
 
 " Them s hard lines," he whispered, leaning over as he pushed the 
 oar against the shelving bank. " I d like to put a bullet in that 
 young fellar s gilt breast ! Nat s true grit. He never turns a look 
 this way." 
 
 Markle made no reply, but his eyes were fixed on the negro 
 rather than on the shore along which the men were coming in swift 
 pursuit. The bushes which had sheltered the creeping way of the 
 boat along the bank, gave place to a bare slope of clay and mud. 
 Burley paused on the edge of the unprotected stretch of water 
 curdling dingily in the light. 
 
 "Ef we get apast that, we re safe," spitting on his palms, and 
 bending to his rude oars. Markle drew one long breath as with 
 swift, steady strokes the boat shot out into the open light in full 
 view of their pursuers. There was a chorus of fierce yells, and two 
 or three shots that struck the water, whizzing alongside. Burley 
 strained until the veins stood out purple on his forehead. " I think 
 we ll make it," he said. 
 
 Once out of the light again, they would be safe from the guns, 
 and the precipitous sides of the mountain forbade chase. 
 
 While the boat was shooting through this open space, Mr. Streb- 
 ling climbed upon the ledge where his son stood. He was paler 
 than was his wont ; the smile had deepened into a pitiable, nervous 
 contortion. 
 
 " I know that man, Bob," he said, putting one hand on the young 
 officer s shoulder, and nodding down to the brawny figure and gray 
 head rising and falling with each stroke of the oars. " I I d rather 
 you d not shoot," as Major Strebling freed his right arm from his 
 hold, muttering a curse on Yankee spies. 
 
 His father rubbed his clean-shaven chin tremulously. "He s 
 really a clever fellow, and he he may be missed. He has been 
 very kind to a friend of mine, Robert." 
 
 The decisive young soldier was used to his father s hesitating 
 dribble of talk ; it fell apparently unheard on his ears, while he 
 waited, with pistol pointed, till the boat should come within 
 range. Nathan, who had stood with motionless eyes while the 
 skiif was undiscovered, came mechanically to the edge of the 
 plateau, a little apart from the others, as soon as it glided into the 
 light, and bending lower with each stroke of the oars, stood with 
 both hands stretched toward it, dumb, as though the soul in the 
 weak shell of a body could find no cry for its great and irreparable 
 loss. 
 
 The boat took with it his chance of manhood, of home, of wife, 
 and child. He could see the face of the first white man who had 
 given him his hand as freely as Christ would have done, turned 
 
188 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 toward him ; turned with an awful unable pity in it, dimming *knd 
 dimming in the distance, as the hope was dimming out of his life. 
 
 A flash from Major Streb ling s pistol, a light wreath of smoke in 
 the moonlight, and a crisp, rushing sound passed through the boat. 
 Burley started, threw himself forward. 
 
 " Joe ! " 
 
 " It s nothing." But he set his teeth as he pulled a few long, 
 desperate strokes that drove them out of danger into the shadow. 
 
 " We are beyond their reach now," said Markle. " Give me the 
 oars, I can pull strong enough to take us down stream." 
 
 " Wait a bit, I haven t done my sheer," with ponderous, steady 
 motion. 
 
 Markle looked back once more to Nat s thin figure bending over 
 the cliff with his hand held out mechanically. There was neither 
 imploring nor farewell in the gesture, nor in the face over which a 
 ray of moonlight fell ; but there suddenly broke on the air a low, 
 solitary cry, inarticulate, full of unutterable anguish and loss. 
 
 It went with them into the darkness which they entered. The 
 tears came to Markle s black eyes ; hot, bitter tears, such as had 
 risen there once when he had looked on the dead face of one very 
 dear to him. It seemed to him that the mulatto s lonely figure wan 
 the type of all his people. He said again, that it was the ghost of 
 a murder done, and wondered if God meant that life should ever 
 return to it ; life such as that which throbbed in his own indignant 
 pulses ; or would it always cry, and wring its hands in vain ? 
 
 The darkness about them was heavy; the young lieutenant, 
 stooping forward to take the oars from- Burley could not see the 
 old man s face ; but Joe would not give them up. He continued to 
 pull for a few momenta, then the strokes grew uneven and labored. 
 
 " I reckon you kin take them, Leftenant," he said, " this water b 
 gettin too hefty for me." 
 
 He made no reply after that to Markle s occasional whispers, and 
 when the young officer, becoming alarmed, put out his hand and 
 touched him, Burley s heavy body sogged down on the floor, and 
 beside the board on which he had been sitting there was a thick 
 pool of blood. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE LAST DAT AT THE FARM. 
 
 IT was one of Doctor Broderip s holidays. A holiday was aa 
 weighty a matter with him, as if he had been a schoolboy all of his 
 life, or a bound apprentice. He used to plan them for weeks be 
 fore, crowding and arranging operations and visits so that one day 
 might be free. If there was a flaw in it, if there was rain when the 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 189 
 
 day came, or an unexpected case called him to the hospital, he 
 sulked like a boy, and wreaked his- vengeance on everybody who 
 came within his reach. 
 
 This day, however, was clear and warm as if sun and air had 
 joined to help him to give himself enjoyment. He rose, as was his 
 habit on these fete-days, an hour or two earlier than usual, so that 
 not a moment might be wasted, and after he had bathed, dressed, 
 and taken his glass of claret and a biscuit, he came down the stairs 
 feather-light in head and feet, whistling boyishly as he stood twirl 
 ing his cane at the hall door, glancing up and down the street. 
 
 He was so eager for pleasure on these days, so unlike a full-grown 
 man in the whole matter, that the whim had puzzled Miss Conrad 
 more than she cared to tell. " It must be," she said once, " that 
 your life in Franco gave you this relish for fetes." At which he 
 had smiled and changed color, but made no reply. He managed 
 somehow, not only, like a bee, to extract the honey from every mo 
 ment, but to carry the zest and flavor of each moment with him all 
 day. He had some peculiarity of temperament, too, which enabled 
 him to draw physical or mental luxury out of the, to us baldest 
 commonplaces. While he stood now on the doorway, the hour of 
 morning gone was present and alive to him ; the chilly plunge 
 into the water, the fine crisp linen rubbing against his skin, the 
 gems sparkling unseen ; the sober suit of gray that covered this 
 dainty fastidiousness with a decorous mask ; the pure air coming 
 to his lungs ; all remained sentient to him. Phil followed him 
 about, holding by his coat, and, when he left the door, roared 
 vigorously ; the birds in the conservatory beat their wings 
 against the glass as he passed ; the hounds came after, one of 
 them walking inside of the iron fence, keeping stately step with 
 him, and as he went down the pavement, looking after him 
 with sorrowful eyes. That pleased him. It was something, he 
 thought, outside of a man s usual nature to be so closely akin 
 to children, to birds, and fowls, and beasts. He knew one 
 woman who was the same. But he did not smile at that ; the 
 thought of her lay too deep and secret for even that outward show ; 
 the delight, the dream, which was hidden in his soul unknown 
 almost to himself; as the fairy land of Summer, its many-colored 
 blossoms, its plenty, and its harvest sleep beneath the miry clay 
 and unmelting snow. 
 
 Formerly, these gala days had apparently given Broderip very 
 doubtful satisfaction. There had been times when, before night 
 came, his most morose mood would set in, and he would leave music, 
 or pictures, or stables whatever amusement he had planned, and 
 end the evening in reckless play, which took the place to him of 
 debauch to other men, or in sitting alone, looking drearily out into 
 the gathering night. Lately he had made no plans, but when the 
 
190 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 days came (and they were very frequent now), he turned mechan 
 ically to old Hugh Conrad and his daughter, and left them to fill 
 the time for him as they pleased. 
 
 Broderip was an untiring walker. He started off at a brisk pace 
 down the street toward the depot, the tune which he had been 
 whistling keeping up its merry jingle in his head. Turning into 
 one of the quiet side streets, he came to the gate of a Friends 
 burying-ground, and taking a pass key from his pocket, he opened 
 the gate and went in, passing rapidly to a corner where was a 
 scarce raised, unmarked mound. The grass was already green over 
 it, although little heaps of snow lay in the hollows near ; a path 
 was worn from the gate to its side ; well worn by many feet, yet, 
 perhaps, none came there whom the gray-headed old man resting 
 beneath, had not helped up on their life s journey. 
 
 He had been kind to the famous surgeon once ; it was Broderip s 
 habit always to come here on the beginning of one of his holidays, 
 just as, gambler and profane as he was, he often secretly said a 
 prayer before he listened to fine music, or took up his scalpel, or 
 played with Phil ; everywhere, in fact, but when he began to eat. 
 
 While he stooped to pick off one or two rotting leaves from the 
 old Quaker s grave a quizzical smile crept out on his face, fancying 
 that the shrewd mouth and keen, blue eyes in the face beneath the 
 grass and clay were turned up to him intelligently. A faulty, 
 whimsical, old man, loving his dollars much, but his friend more ; 
 with a mania, as people called it, of thinking any man his 
 friend for whom Christ died ; a man who would dun a debtor 
 twenty times for a penny, and who had given thousands to the 
 anti-slavery cause, and the needy poor of any creed or color. 
 
 The smile passed off of Broderip s face, and he stood, earnestly 
 looking down, through the mound of white-edged grass. One 
 might have fancied that it was a boy presenting himself before his 
 teacher for scrutiny and approval, but for the terrible gravity that 
 gathered in his look ; the dreadful consciousness of himself, of his 
 whole self, from the fastidiously clean clothes and skin, into the 
 soul which even the dead man s eyes could not reach ; the anxiety 
 of a man who judges himself inexorably as the great book will 
 judge him some day. Such moments come to all of us in life. 
 
 He stood quiet for some time; then he stooped calmly again 
 to smooth the grass, glad of the custom which had forbidden 
 any marble or stone to set forth the good deeds of his old 
 friend, but left him near to those he had befriended with only 
 a little warm earth and grass between. Earth and grass were 
 nature s way of saying that life was good, after all; and some 
 how they seemed to make the little surgeon more akin to his 
 benefactor than any act of their lives had done. For when Brode 
 rip, as a boy, had met the old Quaker, there had been words spoken 
 
 
WAITING FOR TKE VERDICT. 191 
 
 that were hard to bear, and mortification in his heart that stung 
 like any adder. It was all gone now. When he had cleared away 
 the leaves he laid his delicate hand flat on the ground for an instant 
 with a pleasant smile, as if he bade his old friend a cheerful good- 
 morning, and then rising, he put on his hat and went out. 
 
 It was yet early in the forenoon when he reached the little station 
 on the railroad, nearest to Mr. Conrad s farm, and, turning up a 
 lane, struck across the fields ; the long-repressed whistle turning 
 into a shrill song ; jumping the fences and stumps nimbly as a boy. 
 From the moment he stepped upon Mr. Conrad s ground, it was 
 noticeable that he became alive with interest in a manner new to 
 him ; stopping to examine a broken part of the fence ; prodding 
 his stick into the ground, and examining anxiously the bits of loam 
 that came out on it ; leaning over the fence of the cow-yard to dis 
 cuss with the old farm-hand, Burton, the propriety of putting the 
 west field into oats or barley. For Broderip, as boy or man, 
 knocked about the world, had been everywhere a lodger, sleeping 
 and eating in a house, not a home. He had bought mining and oil 
 claims, in his avidity for money ; owned vineyards and cranberry 
 grounds in New Jersey, but he left them to skilful agents. But 
 this little patch of the Methodist preacher s had an interest to him, 
 apparently, such as the poor homestead in which he was born may 
 have to a man of the world. The shabby, whitewashed barn, the 
 clumps of sycamores and locusts along the lane, the great, old 
 black-walnuts shadowing the wooden house, had grown familiar and 
 dear to him as if they belonged to some long-ago days of boyhood 
 irreparably lost. He was more zealous in repairing and beautifying 
 it all than Miss Conrad or her father. 
 
 " It is only a rented place to you," he said once, " but it is home 
 to me." 
 
 At which Margaret fell into silence, wondering for a long while 
 if it could be that it was the first home he ever had known. Her 
 own local attachments were strong as those of a cat : she be 
 longed to the farm where she had been born and lived as though 
 her very flesh and bones had drawn their being out of it like the 
 pithy young saplings in its woods. It seemed woful and pitiable 
 to her, therefore, that a man should have drifted always about the 
 world without a home. She pitied this queer, unhappy, brilliant 
 little man so much, after that, that her steady voice would tremble 
 suddenly when she talked with him, though for no immediate cause; 
 she would lie awake at nights contriving ways to make his visit the 
 next day cheerful,* until her brain grew hot and rasped, and her 
 cool cheeks turned crimson with feverish sleeplessness. When she 
 watched him drive away from the door sometimes, the salt tears 
 would rush into her heretofore gray, resolute eyes, to think how 
 lonely he must be when her father s and her own homely talk could 
 
192 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 give him so keen a pleasure. Now, Miss Conrad s was no tender, 
 sympathetic, soothing nature. The tranquil blood in her full veins 
 never quickened at human suffering : flowed on sluggish and for 
 getful as if it were Lethe s water. " People whined to so little pur 
 pose ; in fact, the greater number of the women she met were 
 discontented, and the men weak ; why could they not keep their 
 paltry pains and joys to themselves?" She turned away from 
 tears, and mourning dresses, and red eyes, disgusted and contempt 
 uous, as from a beggar who showed his sores. 
 
 Her father told all this to Broderip one day, while the girl s 
 black brows contracted at hearing her character mapped out, as it 
 were, for a stranger. 
 
 " It s some Indian notion of stoicism she got in her youth," said 
 Conrad. " For Meg s dogs and cattle is keered for with her own 
 hands when they re sick, as I never seen a woman do before. And 
 I think she suffers curiously with her old father, as if she and him 
 were twins. But I don t think she keers for any other human creetur, 
 or ever can do it," turning towards her with a tender smile. She 
 met it with one, as tender and beaming, and some joking reply, but 
 her own face was unwontedly pale, and during that evening she had 
 avoided Broderip s eyes. 
 
 Perhaps it was out of a polite remembrance of this story of her 
 fondness for animals that the doctor urged upon Mr. Conrad s ac 
 ceptance one or two fine specimens of cattle, presented to him, he 
 said, by patients, and for which he had no possible place of 
 bestowal. One of these, a fine heifer, stood looking at him 
 now, while he talked to Burton, with her delicate muzzle thrust 
 over the fence bars, and her grave eyes on his face. He went up, 
 stroking its head as he had seen Miss Conrad do. He had been 
 careful not to offer it to her ; never to offer her even a flower, though 
 every day the choicest in his green-houses were brought to the old 
 man, remembering that she had said once that, to her mind, a gift 
 from an acquaintance was an impertinence ; but that if she loved, 
 she would be glad to go to her master needy as Ruth to Boaz. 
 Broderip had not forgotten the words, nor her face as she spoke 
 them. 
 
 "As for that heifer," said old Burton, laying a rope about the 
 broken gate, while the doctor bent the cow s head down to his 
 hand. " I knownothin about it. Miss Conrad, she hes it in charge, 
 an them Westerners is cussedly set on their own ways," stopping 
 short, and giving the rope a vicious pull as Mr. Conrad, his cane 
 held obliquely before him, came across the yard. Broderip noticed, 
 with his usual suspicious instinct, that the old man did not meet 
 him with his ordinary hearty shout of welcome. He took his hand 
 from the heifer s neck and stood on guard, as it were, on the in- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDIC1. 193 
 
 stant, his thin lips compressed, and his watchful eyes on Conrad s 
 face. 
 
 But the preacher, though embarrassed, was cordial enough. " I 
 thought you would be out this morning," holding out his hand ; 
 " and Meg said it was your voice she heerd, singing, coming across 
 the meddar; but I couldn t hear it, sharp as my ears are set." 
 There was a certain tart impatience in his tone, new to it, of which 
 Broderip thought it wisest to take no notice. 
 
 " My ears are worth enough to tell me what you re a-doing, Bur 
 ton," growled the old man. "You re patching that hinge agen 
 with rope. You know where to find the tools, I reckon. Go fetch 
 them." 
 
 To which Burton replied, when at a safe distance, that he " wasn t 
 a mule or a slave, neyther." 
 
 " He s a cantankerous old fool," said Mr. Conrad, when they had 
 left the cow-yard, and were slowly walking side by side down the 
 slope toward the house, the half decayed stubble yielding under 
 neath to their tread. " He s one part of the concern I shall not be 
 sorry to leave behind when we go." Broderip turned quickly to 
 ward him, but said nothing. 
 
 " He s a makeshift and sham, like his hinge," striking the ground 
 with his stick, keeping an angry time to his words. " There s a 
 good deal of onreality and sham creeping into the world, any way. 
 It s so hereabouts, at least, I think ; out West it s different." 
 
 "How different?" asked Broderip, gravely, passing his hand 
 over his clean-shaven, hollow cheeks. 
 
 The old preacher coughed and cleared his throat. Whatever was 
 the secret thought that goaded his ill-temper, it was apparently one 
 which he wished to conceal. " I mean what I say ; no more, no 
 less. A man offers himself there at his real vally. To love means 
 to love, and to hate means a short fight, tough blows, and then it s 
 done with. But there s polish on all men here alike, and how re 
 you to know if it s the real wood you ve got, or just second-hand 
 work veneered ? " 
 
 Now, instinct is a keener expert than reason at interpreting co 
 vert undermeanings, and the thin little man in gray, walking beside 
 Conrad, knew as clearly that these words were meant for himself 
 as though the old man had named him. After all, when you wound 
 a man s self-respect, you touch something which lies below any love 
 or friendship. There was a single moment of silence, and then the 
 surgeon said, in a quiet, authoritative tone, " I, at least, am clear 
 of your condemnation. I have made no professions, and have 
 played no part with you. I felt myself fit to be your friend, and," 
 his voice growing harder, " the friend of your daughter, and I feel 
 that I am so still. I never offered myself as your spiritual col 
 league or business adviser." He was silent a moment, " There may 
 13 
 
194 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 be relations which I can never fill, but that of an honest man or a 
 friend, is not among them." 
 
 " I know it, Broderip, I know it ! " gripping his shoulder, sud 
 denly. " I talk like a brute to-day. But I ve had trouble that s 
 nigh driven me to the wall. I m soured and suspicious agin all the 
 world but Meg. There, there ! let me alone a bit ! I ll tell you 
 after a while," and they walked on together without speaking. 
 Conrad s head sunk upon his breast. Only, in token of his kindly 
 feeling, the impulsive old fellow kept his hand on Broderip s arm, 
 leading him as if he were a boy. 
 
 The surgeon was very glad to let the matter go. Old men were 
 subject to such splenetic whims and humors. For him, it was his 
 holiday ; and he shut his eyes wilfully to any rising cloud. 
 
 As they came nearer to the old-fashioned garden surrounding the 
 house, he caught sight of Miss Conrad s figure in the arbor at work 
 among the bare stems of the grape-vines. As soon as he had left 
 her father on the porch he would go and help her, and then all 
 three would go on a long rambling walk over the hills beyond the 
 creek ; then, home again hungry and tired, for dinner and reading 
 and music ; any of the careless, inconsequent ways in which happy 
 people draw the electric sparks, one after another, from the day. 
 
 For Broderip had fallen into this routine with them ; he made no 
 motion to alter it ; it seemed as if he never meant to put out his 
 hand to alter it, or to change their relations. Why should he ? It 
 was a Summer s day, such as never had dawned in his life before. 
 It was, he thought, an ordinary day to her. If there was anything 
 beyond, toward which, at times, he looked with a hunger passing 
 that of women, yet which he denied himself, the loss was but his 
 own. Miss Conrad, he thought, was even more self-reliant, com 
 posed, cold, than when he first had known her. True, there were 
 times when this thought of himself as other men, of her as his wife, 
 almost mastered him ; the words had trembled on his lips which 
 should open the gateway to that other life ; but, as yet, they had 
 never been spoken. In cooler moments, when he was most a man, 
 he told himself resolutely that it could never be ; and then he rested 
 in his Summer day, forgetting that after a while the payment of 
 loss must come, and that he alone must b.ear it. Perhaps the saga 
 cious old man was right, as he listened, with a curious interest, to 
 the uneven, quick fall of Broderip s steps on the clay, as he walked 
 beside him. 
 
 "Weak and strong by turns," he thought. " Onstable, onstable 
 as water ! " with a sigh. It was a favorite test of character with 
 him. They reached the door and passed into the wide, heartsome 
 parlor. " I ll bring your chair to the fire," said Broderip, " and 
 then go for Miss Conrad to prepare for our walk." But he stopped, 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 195 
 
 after he had established the old man before the blazing heap of 
 brands, to look at a package which lay on the mantle-shelf. 
 
 "They re seeds from the Patent Office," said Mr. Conrad. 
 " Young Randolph sent them to me." 
 
 The petulant frown deepened on Broderip s face, he fingered the 
 string impatiently. It enraged him that they should receive the 
 benefit of even a flower from any hands but his. 
 
 " I have better specimens than these of the same plants," he said. 
 " Allow me to exchange them." 
 
 " As you please," smiling grimly when he heard the seeds crack 
 ling in the fire a moment after. " It does not matter," he contin 
 ued drily. " We shall not need seeds or plants here. I have given 
 up the place." 
 
 Broderip stood quite silent, his arm on the mantle-shelf, looking 
 down at him. 
 
 " We are going West again Meg and I." 
 
 There was no exclamation or motion of surprise ; only a moment s 
 silence, after which the surgeon asked him, quietly, " How soon 
 they were going ? " 
 
 "In a week." 
 
 "T did not know it," said Broderip, passing his hand over his 
 head in a feeble, boyish way. " You did not tell me." 
 
 " How could I ? " roughly, for the surgeon s apparent indifference 
 stung the old man to the quick ; he was sore with trouble that day. 
 "We did not know it till last night. Truth is, it s hard for you to 
 understand, Doctor Broderip ; you ve never been pinched ; we had 
 but a pauper s pittance, as it would seem to people in your way of 
 life. That s gone now." 
 
 Still no answer. 
 
 " Gone," the old man went on mechanically. " There s a firm 
 failed in Ohio where I had my savings invested. They re all 
 washed overboard. We can t afford to keep the place ; we faced 
 that at once ; so we ll go back to our own country, and scrape along 
 for ourselves." 
 
 There was no reply. Broderip, with both hands behind him, was 
 leaning against the wall, staring vacantly out at the muddy slope. 
 There was but one idea clear to him, and that was, that, when he 
 had denied himself Margaret as his wife, he had been a true man ; 
 and that this was his reward. Whether the thought was bitter or 
 not, only he and God, who was testing him, knew. 
 
 Somehow his silence touched the old man. " I know you re sorry 
 for us," he said, putting out his hand, which Broderip took. " I 
 can bear pity from you. You ve been friendlier to me than any 
 man I know here, Doctor Broderip, and come nearer. I ll say that. 
 I ve been savage to-day as a miserable old hound, though, that ud 
 bite the hand that fed him. It s this, you see," touching his eyes. 
 
196 WAITING FOE, THE VERDICT. 
 
 " I lost all before, and made a joke on t. But now the work ll come 
 on Meg." 
 
 The surgeon muttered some inarticulate words, to which the old 
 man listened with keen attention, but without being able to com 
 prehend them. 
 
 " I ve got rid of the place remarkable easy," he said, after a pause. 
 "I sent for Holmes, the landlord, this morning, and it seems that 
 Dutchman by the mill wants it, and will take it off my hands at 
 once. He s going to open tavern." 
 
 Broderip gave a sudden laugh, and, without waiting to hear 
 more, passed down the room to the door, glancing sharply from 
 side to side: at the window, where Margaret s work-table and 
 chair stood ; at the chess-board, the red and white men catching the 
 cheerful morning light ; at the old man s leather, easy chair, and his 
 own, near to it. The quiet days he had spent there ; the long even 
 ings before the fire, with the red light flashing and darkening ; the 
 preacher s drowsy stories, and the one other figure near, toward 
 which he seldom looked, but which was present to him in every 
 sense of his body all flashed before him in that brief moment of 
 going to the door. Instead, in a week his old friend would have 
 vanished as utterly out of his life as if Death lay between them ; 
 there would be a crowd of loutish Dutchmen playing dominoes 
 about the fire; a smell of rum and rotten cheese through the olr! 
 house, which Conrad was glad to get off of his hands so easily. 
 The weak, nervous little man looked up at it when he was outside, 
 thinking that it was different with him : remembering how he had 
 gone through one day s work after another, with no pleasure to look 
 forward to beyond the hour in the evening under its roof, and how 
 his heart had been used to throb hot and heavy at the mere sight 
 of the old moss-grown, decayed porch, as he turned the corner of 
 the mill yonder. In a week there would be no trace of him in the 
 familiar place : Conrad would have gone to older friends : it cost 
 him but little now to part with him, that was evident. If there 
 was any other loss cominof which would leave an irreparable gap 
 in his life, he held it back out of sight did not name it, even to 
 Y himself. 
 
 He was unjust to the old Methodist. Half of his bitterness and 
 wrath, to-day, was caused by his conviction that they and Broderip 
 would never meet again, and that the surgeon would not choose to 
 put out his hand to prevent the parting. The old man s love for 
 his daughter was jealous and keen-sensed as that of a lioness for 
 its whelps. He had fancied lately, when he touched her, that her 
 firm flesh was growing soft as that of other women ; that the eyes 
 were sunken into deeper hollows ; there was at times an incertitude 
 in her step, a nervous gayety in her voice, that startled and alarmed 
 him. When this news came to him last night, his first thought was 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 197 
 
 that now he had a reasonable pretext for removing her from dan 
 ger. Yet the old man had an oddly., affectionate nature, and he had 
 taken this Broderip into his heart with something of the feeling he 
 might have for a maimed son, whose power and disease were both 
 beyond his comprehension. 
 
 " But he shall not play fast and loose with my Meg ! " he said 
 fiercely, after the surgeon had left the room. He rose, went to the 
 window, and stood there, his head a little bent, to hear the retreat- 
 ng footsteps on the ground. More than ever, the step seemed to 
 nim irresolute and wavering. His face cleared at last " He s gone 
 to her," he said, turning away, and beginning to pace up and down, 
 his stick slightly before him. " If he loves her, it ll force itself 
 into words now," he thought. " There s not many men would turn 
 from a woman left in want as Meg s likely to be. At any rate, 
 John Broderip s not the one to do it. He s the true grit. Though," 
 recollecting himself, " there s no denying that he has not made his 
 suit as I did to Priscilla." 
 
 The difference in their social position never entered the simple- 
 minded old man s head ; if it had, he would have said that his girl 
 was a wife for the best man in the land, and thought no more about 
 it. The change in their fortunes, too, through the marriage, hardly 
 occurred to him, as he walked, thinking of Meg as a happy wife 
 and mother, with a sagacious, kindly smile on his face. "I could 
 fend for myself if I was back agin among my old people. But I d 
 come see Meg once a year : about once a year." So he planned 
 and doubted, pondering on trifles, like any girl uncertain whether 
 she was loved or not, his cheeks heating and growing pale by turns. 
 For his daughter was very dear to him, and he fancied her fate for 
 life was to be decided to-day. Was it possible that he could have 
 been mistaken in thinking that Broderip loved her ; that his voice, 
 his manner, his very breath altered when she came near him : that 
 his mind swayed to her s, helpless in its passion, as a weed 
 drifting in the tide ? Or had he been but a thoughtful friend, and 
 these fancies a fond fathev s prejudice 2 So the old man sat ami 
 waited, while the morning broadened into noon, and the square 
 shadows of the windows retreated from the floor, and gave place to 
 a cold, universal glare. They had gone to walk alone: but he was 
 too honorable to follow the sound of their steps over the garden 
 walks, and try to catch their secret. 
 
 " Meg will come and tell me of her own free will, when all is well 
 with her." 
 
 Broderip was not a man to discuss coolly with himself the right 
 and wrong of any intended action. Thought and reasoning came 
 to his unequal brain in a series of analogies or flashes of pictures. 
 As he went down through the scattered, leafless sycamores to the 
 garden, his eyes were fixed on the slow, sinuous motions of the gill 
 
198 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 in the arbor as she stooped or rose, cutting branches from the bare 
 vines. In the dull stubble fields around, or the formal, fenced little 
 garden, with its square beds of dried and decaying vegetables, and 
 wet tan-bark walks between, there was hint neither of color or 
 light : the sunshine was pale and thin, the wind rattled the bare, 
 black boughs overhead drearily ; but there was power of motion in 
 her slow figure, affluence of color enough to fill the whole day with 
 life. She had thrown back the sweeping fur cloak until it drooped 
 from her shoulders in large folds : beneath, the heavy dress of ruddy 
 hue showed the full contour of her head and bare throat, solid 
 and pale as yellowish marble, with the black coils of hair falling 
 loosely down : there was a new brilliancy in the crimson cheeks 
 and gray eyes, large and piercing under their straight brows. 
 Ceres might have so stood, waking in the late Autumn fields, dis 
 crowned and unqueened, save for the potent mastering strength in 
 her own broad bosom. 
 
 She smiled when he stopped, leaning over the gate, regarding her, 
 then went on with her work, having apparently forgotten that he 
 was near. The little man, who had no Saxon plucky endurance 
 in him to battle with pain, let his chin fall on the gate, while his 
 eyes silently devoured her every motion. He was worn-out : his 
 life, as the rules of men had bounded it for him, and the life 
 that should have belonged to him as a man, had faced him so 
 barely a moment before ! The pain of the day had sucked the 
 strength out of him : this was its first actual pleasure, and here 
 was rest and luxury for every artistic sense in his nervous body. 
 
 He watched her move as, sleeping, he would watch a scarce de 
 fined dream of comfort and cheer : there was prophecy in it, as in 
 inarticulate music which, full and uninterpreted, seems to pass on 
 with us through the approaching years ; he stood, weak and idle, 
 listening. There was but little passion in his feeling for Margaret 
 that day ; she seemed to him to idealize his life as it might have 
 been ; he looked at her with unable eyes, stretched ineffectual, 
 groping hands toward her ; conscious of how beaten and misused 
 and wornout he was. If she would put one of her cool, strong 
 hands on his throbbing forehead, he could shut his eyes and be 
 content to die, giving up the battle, and owning himself worsted. 
 
 Afterward, to his tired, uneasy brain, there came the remem 
 brance that she was poor now ; miserably poor, it might be ; he 
 began to picture her as a drudge ; he could save her from this ; 
 rf he did not save her, indeed, there was a chance that her father 
 would think he had been false and unfair in his conduct to her. 
 
 But if he did it ; if he kept her here ? 
 
 His breath struggled quick and hot through his breast, he put 
 one hand over his face to hide the glowing eyes. Another pic 
 ture came up to him. Of the stately house he had built yonder, 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 199 
 
 with MargA*et in it as his wife ; but it was a poor home for her 
 meagre and dull. It should be made beautiful as a fairy palace 5 
 she would help him, through the great love he bore her, to cast off 
 the last remnants of his old animal nature, to reach the true man 
 hood he would spend his life in helping others. For her he 
 would shut her away from every eye, he would so surround her 
 with homage and honor that she should desire no glimpse beyond. 
 She should be his alone ; the reward for all the loss that had gone 
 before ! 
 
 He lifted his head, and opening the gate went toward her, the 
 sensitive pale face, lighted by some subtle spirit of power and tri 
 umph. Margaret, seeing him come, turned with the old composed 
 smile to meet him. But the hand which fell by her side closed sud 
 denly until the nails pressed hardly in the flesh. 
 
 " Will you come down this path with me ? " he said, quietly. " I 
 have a story to tell you. You deferred it once. But you will hear 
 it now?" 
 
 They turned into a wide walk covered with brown needles of the 
 pines, sodden into the ground. It was then that a little circum 
 stance occurred which, years afterward, Miss Conrad understood, 
 and knew why it had imported much in her life. It was only the 
 approach of a negro servant with a note to her. Margaret uncon 
 sciously drew back from the woman before she took it, and when 
 she was gone, shook the note in the fresh air as if it was tainted, be 
 fore she thrust it in her pocket. Looking up, she saw Doctor Bro- 
 derip looking at her with eyes that seemed blind, his face quiet 
 and cold. 
 
 " I am ready to walk now," she said. 
 " Yes." 
 
 She had a curious flash of conviction when she looked at him, 
 that in that moment some power had thrust them apart as no 
 mountains or seas between could do. After one swift glance, she 
 walked calmly beside him, but the brilliant color had faded a little 
 in her cheeks. He was quite silent, with his hands clasped behind 
 him, his head bent, moving only to push the thorny berry branches 
 out of her way. She had a vague fancy that he was putting on a 
 mask of grave face and controlled voice which was meant to thrust 
 her from him forever ; that whatever might be the battle waged in 
 his soul, she would know nothing of it. 
 
 When they had reached the branching old cedar at the end of 
 the walk, he brushed the dead leaves from a rough bench below it, 
 and motioned her to sit down ; then stood, one arm leaning over 
 the crisped brown trunk, looking over her head into the dead stub 
 ble field. 
 
 " The story I meant to tell you," he said, in the grave, reticent 
 tone with which he controlled a patient, " can never be put into 
 
200 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 words, now." He stopped, his throat growing dry and hoarse. 
 " It was a fancy I had," after a moment, in a lower voice. " I 
 had thought of it for a long time. But I do not think, Miss Conrad, 
 that it ever would have imported much to you," with a quick, fur 
 tive falling of the eyes to her s. Something which she detected in 
 them, touched her as no words of his had ever done. She shivered 
 as she had done when some animal was being killed near her, and 
 she could hear its inarticulate cries. 
 
 " I was too old a man to so dupe myself," with a smile. " But it 
 never can happen again." 
 
 "Have I hurt you?" 
 
 " No. But I have had a miserable secret, and there might come 
 a day when you would know it. I have seen the very look which, 
 you would turn on me when you heard the truth." 
 
 She turned her face on him now, pale, full of power. " You do 
 not know me. I am no schoolgirl with shallow fancies". I do not 
 veer with every wind that blows." 
 
 He came closer to her ; he held his breath ; stooping, looking 
 into the moist, gray eyes raised to his, full of liquid, trembling light. 
 It seemed to him that some spirit unknown to men, fresh as when 
 God breathed it into her, waited there to meet him at his bidding. 
 The silence about them grew audible : S!OAV throbbing, the beat 
 ing of his own pulses, filled his ear; the sun which had faded 
 out of its sickly lustre into foreboding shadows, was slowly filled 
 with chilly mist that trailed through the air. A dead twig loosened 
 from the branch above by some wandering bird, fell on his hand. 
 The touch startled him ; he stood up like one waking from a mo 
 mentary stupor, the relaxed features, hardening again, holding one 
 hand across his narrow, stooped chest with a curious gesture of 
 sheltering himself from pain. None but a weak man or woman 
 could have made it. 
 
 " I saw the look in your face ! I saw the look in your face," 
 under his breath. 
 
 The drops of sweat gathered on his own thin visage. " I have 
 had a hard life," slowly, with a queer, far-reaching look as though 
 it all were present to him in that moment. " But it would be 
 easier to live it over again than for the day to come when you 
 should know the truth." 
 
 The gray eyes grew cold, and fell slowly ; when they were lifted 
 again, they swept over his face, over the dull sky and fields with 
 their old calm, resolute, unrevealing scrutiny. Whatever it was 
 that had looked out of its prison-house through them a moment 
 ago, had retreated to its life-long hiding-place never to return. 
 She rose, and drawing her fur cloak closer about her throat, stood 
 beside him, looking down through the narrow, melancholy strip of 
 valley to the horizon up which a storm was rising. She noted, as 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 201 
 
 she saw everything without looking toward it, that the little man 
 beside her shivered in his thin holiday suit, and that the cough 
 which the cutting mist had provoked, racked and tore his lungs. 
 From feeling of womanly pity, or some other impulse she would 
 have torn her own warm wrappings off to shelter him ; but what 
 light had she ? If he were dying any other woman would have 
 more seemly right to aid him than she, whom he had thrust from 
 him. She turned toward the house, and he followed her. 
 
 " It was a clear morning when you first came to me," he said, 
 with a forced smile. " It suited our meeting, and this seerns a fit 
 ting day on which to say good-bye." 
 
 She made no answer. 
 
 " It is better that we should part, Margaret." 
 
 The beautiful face was carved between him and the fading light, 
 set and stern. " I wish to work ill to no man. Yes ; it is better." 
 
 They were passing a clump of branching hemlocks : he put his 
 hand on her wrist, and drew her under their shelter. " 111 to me ? 
 It is not that : I would be willing to bear the scorn and loathing of 
 your look, to call you mine for but a day. But you to see your 
 head go down down. The jeers the loss that I have always 
 known, to come on you and your children ! The stain of it that 
 you never could be rid of!" The words had been driven out of 
 his lips in a shrill, piping outcry. He stopped now, holding one 
 hand over his eyes until he had regained his usual calm. When he 
 looked up, she had moved again away, and again he followed, 
 walking a step behind her, the attitude curiously like that of a 
 servant. But if his humiliation thus weighed on him insensibly, 
 the effect was but transitory. When she had entered the little 
 closed porch which gave admission to the side of the house, he mo 
 tioned to her to stop, and it was the Doctor Broderip whom his 
 outside friends knew, that stood before her ; quiet, reticent, in every 
 motion of the low, trained voice and small features, the sign of 
 thorough, controlled breeding. 
 
 " I will leave you here, Miss Conrad." 
 
 She turned and waited, facing him, the light which came through 
 the round window over the door, falling on her head, and the half 
 uncoiled black hair wet with the mist on her neck. 
 
 " You look jaded and overworked. You need rest," she said, 
 giving utterance to the safe, kindly surface-thought, to fill up the 
 silence between them, and the death that lay in it. 
 
 " It is nothing, I am as strong as other men. Except I have 
 fought my battle ill to-day. I have seemed a coward to you, per 
 haps, or even melodramatic," forcing a smile. 
 
 Her lips moved, but they were hot and parched. They made no 
 Bound. 
 
 " I think I did what was right." The words fell slowly from his 
 
202 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 mouth, hardly breaking the stillness, his eyes turned vacantly c ut 
 to the far, cloudy sky. He did not seem to heed that she made no 
 answer ; but after a long time turned to her with his look searching 
 and eager on her inscrutable face. 
 
 " Will you trust me in this ? That, I tried to do what was best 
 for you, and for me ? I wish that you could giv*d me this much 
 comfort to take back with me into my life. It will not have too 
 much of comfort." 
 
 She put out her hand, a cordial heat flashing into her face and 
 tone. " I do trust you. Whatever else may fail you in the world, 
 I believe in you. No other man has seemed to me in soul so 
 manly." 
 
 Fate at that moment rang out a shrill unexpected note of triumph 
 in John Broderip s life. The man rose to it as to a bugle call. 
 For one brief space the poor little mask of his body dilated and 
 beamed with the thrill within. Then he drew back from her with 
 a softened, smiling face, and tears that had forced their way into 
 his eyes. 
 
 " No other woman would have said that after what I had done 
 to-day. It means more than you can ever know to me. It will 
 make my life different to remember it." 
 
 " Is your life, then, so vacant ? " she said, hastily, as though some 
 irrepressible power within urged the words out. 
 
 He paused a moment thoughtfully. " No. The struggle of it 
 has had payment in itself. There is not a nerve in my brain, or 
 fibre in my body, which has not been trained and worked. That is 
 good," his nostril expanding, his breath coming quicker. " My 
 profession is the work I was made for. And they cannot hinder me 
 from being a man, as you called me, and helping other men. No, 
 my life will not be vacant." 
 
 " Helping others ? That is work I never thought of." 
 
 He noted with his physician s eye that her jaws moved mechanic 
 ally, that the blood was settling under her eyes, and about her 
 chin and lips. Could it be that the parting cost her anything ? " 
 
 It was a question he would not ask himself. 
 
 " I am going now," he said. " I shall not see you again." 
 
 She was silent, the leaden, impassive eyes looking at the wall 
 opposite as though they saw nothing. 
 
 " I will be out of the city for some time," a sudden thought coming 
 to him, " and before I return you will have gone." 
 
 "It is probable." 
 
 " Tell your father, Miss Conrad, that I never could accept the 
 custom of bidding good-by. What does it matter? He knows I 
 am his friend " 
 
 " And mine." 
 
 He did not speak; nor, when she made a motion to again hold 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 203 
 
 out her hand in token of farewell, did he take it, but drew still 
 further back, with the old gesture^ one hand, with his hat in it, laid 
 heavily across his chest, and a steeled, self-controlled look in his 
 face, new to Miss Conrad, but which patients writhing under his 
 knife had sometimes seen there. 
 
 " You will say good-by ? " 
 
 " No ; not to you." He moved slightly, after a moment, and 
 spoke again, but still without looking up. " The word means a 
 death-parting to me. And there is a chance though but one 
 that I shall meet you again in this world, with my hands free." 
 
 "And till it comes " 
 
 " I will wait. I will not say good-by." 
 
 He turned, and without suffering himself one look at her face, 
 went with quick steps across the fields to meet the approaching 
 train. Miss Conrad stood quite still until the sound of the light, 
 uneven footsteps had died away ; then she drew herself erect, her 
 dull eyes resting on the distant country station-house, and the small, 
 gray-coated figure in its doorway, until the thundering train came 
 between her and it, and halted a moment. When it was gone, 
 nothing remained on the little platform but a cur yelping out of the 
 dismal rain. She turned slowly to the north, where the long, 
 sinuous line of cars wound through the valley. When it was no 
 longer in sight, she stood tracing the drifting smoke across the 
 sky until it faded behind the clouds of the nearing storm ; then 
 she pulled her cloak up on her shoulders and went into the room 
 where Mr. Conrad waited for her. 
 
 The old man s vigil had been a long and a happy one. Margaret 
 never had planned an air castle in her life ; but the sanguine, riotous 
 fancy of her old father had built many for her, but never one so 
 tender and beautiful as to-night. All the red blood of his youth, 
 all the love for one good woman that had been in it, warmed again 
 to give freshness to his hopes for Meg. His keen ear had caught 
 their first steps upon the porch floor. He had heard the low mur- 
 mur with a broadening smile on his anxious face as he sat with 
 both hands on his knees before the fire. Presently he heard her 
 coming, and alone. 
 
 " She would have nobody tell her old chum but herself," the 
 smile growing more wistful, the fingers moving softly on his knees 
 as if keeping time to music. Such was the face he turned toward 
 her when she opened the door. But he asked no questions. 
 
 " Come to the fire, Meg. Your hair is wet," touching it gently 
 as she half knelt on the rug beside him, holding her hands out to 
 warm them, leaning one arm upon his knee. Caresses were rare 
 between them ; the slight action signified much. He stroked the 
 heavy hair, weighing it in his horny hands. 
 
 " Quite wet. What a mane you have, child ! " 
 
204 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Like yours," quickly. 
 
 " Yes," shaking back his Indian, black locks. " I used to say 
 nature had run you through the same mould as me after the rough 
 edges was worn off. We re born comrades." 
 
 " We will always be so." 
 
 " Well, well, perhaps ! unless I don t expect always to hold the 
 first place, Maggy." 
 
 She made no reply, only leaned a little heavier upon his knee. 
 
 " Where s our friend ? " in a tone which he tried to make careless. 
 
 " Gone," in her usual, steady voice. 
 
 His pale, high-featured face suddenly drew back, intent, watchful. 
 " This was one of his holidays " 
 
 A smile, strangely pitiful, flickered over her mouth. 
 
 "He is coming back again ? " 
 
 " No." With an effort as if it pained her, she rose from off his 
 knee, speaking in a quick, even tone, " He will not come back. He 
 said to tell you that you knew him to be your friend. No words 
 of farewell would prove him more." 
 
 The preacher did not speak ; he drew his breath hoarsely, as was 
 his wont when deeply moved or enraged, his nostrils contracted, 
 his eye narrowed and shone, his teeth showed under the thin upper 
 lip. His face always had an odd resemblance to a watch dog s : 
 now it was that of a high-blooded hound s, panting to spring upon 
 its prey. He sat silent for some time, his head bent forward to the 
 fire. But passing his hand over her head, and touching her fore 
 head, he started, the look in his face giving place to one of vague 
 alarm. The flesh was icy cold; so were her hands when he took 
 hem and kneaded them in his own. The girl had been hurt as 
 never before; and with the quick instinct of real affection, he 
 smothered his own feeling out of sight sooner than add a sting to 
 hers. " She d sooner die than show her own father her pain," he 
 thought. Pie continued to hold the strong, white hands in his until 
 he thought he could " act it out," then he let them fall carelessly. 
 
 " He was always a cranky, whimsical fellow, that Broderip," he 
 said, cheerfully. "But he has been a warm, good friend to us." 
 
 " Yes," rising to her feet. "He is so still, Hugh." 
 
 " I d be sorry to think I d never see him again. We may chance 
 to do it, Meg." 
 
 " There is a chance, he said. Yes." 
 
 "Eh?" sharply, then recollecting himself, he fell back into his 
 careless tone. "What about the dog?" nodding to the tawny 
 Russian hound that lay stretched upon the rug. " It s a vallooable 
 present. I don t like to keep it. I reckon we could contrive to 
 Bend it to him through the Ottley s. Did he speak of the dog, 
 Meg?" 
 
 "No." She looked down at the brute s large, melancholy eyes 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 205 
 
 thai followed her s, as if it kept jealous watch for its master. " But 
 we will not send the dog back, Hugh." 
 
 " No ? " writhing, suddenly. " Well, as you please. I am drowsy 
 now, child ; if you have anything to do that calls you out, I ll go to 
 sleep," and drawing out his red bandanna handkerchief he spread it 
 carefully over his face, stretching out his feet to the fire and folding 
 his hands together. Miss Conrad, according to her habit, lowered 
 the curtains and called the dog out of the room, softly closing the 
 door after her. The old man, when it was shut, sat up and pulling 
 the covering from his face bent it again over the fire. He had only 
 meant to give her a reprieve alone. " It s the first time, Meg, that 
 we played a part," he said. " We was poor actors at it." 
 
 Meanwhile, the girl, with swift, noiseless steps, went to her own 
 chamber, turning in the half open door to look down at the hound 
 which had followed her, and whined to go in. She pushed him 
 back softly, and then closing the door, the key clicked in the lock, 
 and she was quite alone. 
 
 The slow, steady rain that followed the mist shut the little 
 farm-house into drearier solitude. All afternoon the old ma?) 
 paced up and down the room in his perpetual darkness, with no 
 sound but the patter of the rain upon the windows, and the crumb 
 ling ashes in the grate. Paced up and down till the afternoon 
 was gone and night set in. It was late, and Meg, for the first time 
 in her life, had forgotten him, he thought. But she came at last, 
 and in a moment the curtains had shut out the dreary storm, 
 and a fresh fire was leaping and kindling on the hearth, and a 
 cozy little table was being made ready, by old Lotty, for supper. 
 When he was seated at it, in the warmth and glow, with 
 Margaret s cheery tones ringing in his ear, he was glad to put 
 the day that had gone before out of sight, as a wretched, exagger 
 ated dream. 
 
 " I ll be glad to get my foot on our own sile agen," he said heart 
 ily, as they were going to bed. " People is more in earnest for love 
 or hate with us, than here, I think, Meg ? They re inside of life 
 there, and they work away at it, and don t stand off speculatin 
 about it and themselves." 
 
 " I will be glad to go to work," said Margaret. Her father had 
 hold of her wrist as she guided him up the stairs. It gave him a 
 triumphant satisfaction to think how strong the muscles were and 
 full the pulse, and how clear and powerful the brain above it. . 
 
 "Will you now? That s healthy and brave. You ve got the 
 strength and capacity of a dozen women, and there s just that much 
 more hearty work and pleasure waiting for you. There s many 
 doors in the world for you to open, besides " he hesitated ; " that 
 one that women set such store by." 
 
 He could not see that she did not answer his smile. " Yes, I 
 
206 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 know, Hugh," cheerfully, helping him off with his cravat. " Good 
 night. I ll have work enough for you to-morrow. You must help 
 pack the books, and there s class-meeting at night." 
 
 " That s true, that s true ! I ll give Brother Berkett a parting 
 blizzard on that idee of his, that ll settle him, I reckon ! " She left 
 him now, knowing that his waking dreams would be sweetened by 
 the flavor of this coming fight. Whether it ended in victory or 
 defeat did not so much matter. It was the wrestle that he relished. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IN COUNCIL. 
 
 MK. CONEAD found that he was welcomed in the bounds of his 
 old circuit as if he had met a victory instead of defeat. Worldly 
 success is but little successful with the warm-hearted, bigoted 
 Methodists. The old preacher, blind and poor, belonged more to 
 them than when he was the well-to-do owner of the Page proper 
 ties in Kentucky. Besides, exhorting and praying, he grappled 
 with the devil as though he were a man more skilful but not quite as 
 strong as himself; he brought the real Christ with a turmoil of 
 V shrieks and prayers, and cries of " glory ! " into their very lecture- 
 rooms and churches. He opened up hell alongside of their daily 
 paths, and made its most secret horrors visible as the nearest oil- 
 well. He could have spent a year going from house to house as 
 welcome as the old prophet long ago, whose chamber was set apart 
 for him. 
 
 But after a few days of heavy turkey-dinners and heavier oyster- 
 suppers, which he enjoyed to his heart s core, the old man (secretly 
 prompted by his daughter, they suspected,) began to rebel; sum 
 moned a caucus, as he called it, of the members of conference, to 
 determine as to his future course. There were half a dozen of them 
 gathered in the little country parlor. Miss Conrad sat sewing by 
 the window, gravely listening to the usual talk, half anecdote and 
 half harangue, which her father led with his back to the fire, his 
 face full of zest, turning sagaciously from one speaker to the other. 
 They had made a proposal to give him a station in the conference, 
 and charge of a small church. 
 
 " But, brethren," after a moment s pause, " Meg and I could not 
 live on that salary. We should be in debt at the end of the year. 
 
 " It can be done, surely, with economy," said a brisk, pale young 
 man, fumbling his white cravat. " And I need not say to one of 
 the oldest workers in the Lord s vineyard that we do not purpose 
 to make worldly gain thereby." 
 
 "Besides," said an old, brawny-built brother, with a meaning 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 207 
 
 wink, " your daughter is a likely, personable young girl. She ll not 
 be a burden on you long ; and in a~ short time, Brother Conrad, I 
 hope to succeed in having you placed upon the superannuated 
 list." 
 
 Margaret, who had heard the first part of the sentence unmoved, 
 looked up hastily at this and half rose, going to her father. But 
 t did not wound him. He lifted his square, sallow face, turning it 
 thoughtfully on the speaker. " Old and disabled ? I m not that, 
 Brother Fisher. If the Lord laid this on me," touching his eyes, 
 "he meant me not to skulk out of sight with it, but shoulder the 
 cross and keep step. As for that offer of the charge, I hardly know 
 what to say," hesitating. " I ll leave it to Meg," turning sharply 
 to her. 
 
 Now, Miss Conrad was in bad repute in her father s church-mem 
 bership. She sat unmoved as a stone during the fiercest exhorta 
 tions; looked at the spasmodic trances and raptures of the other 
 females without even curiosity in her face ; seldom joined in the 
 hymns. " Why should she ? she was not in despair or rejoicing. 
 Why should she sing a lie to God?" Her father hinted to them 
 that God might some day manifest Himself to the girl in a way 
 they knew not ; her temperament was peculiar. But the brethren 
 were obdurate. There was but one door, that of conversion ; she 
 could not climb in as a thief by some other way. Indeed, many 
 believed that she was a female Pharoah, whose heart God had wil 
 fully hardened, and that her day of grace was past. It was with 
 no good-will, therefore, they saw the offer they had made referred 
 to her decision ; and saw, too, how calmly she accepted the respon 
 sibility, quietly folding up her finished sewing before she spoke, 
 slowly, and looking straight at the oldest brother. 
 
 "I do not look at this matter as you do," she said. "Either my 
 father should work gratuitously for God, with the right to earn his 
 own living, or, if you undertake to give him that, you should give 
 him enough to insure him from want. As for the superannuated 
 list, you have no right to insult a man with charity whom you do 
 not properly pay for work." 
 
 An ominous silence followed the words. She gave a quick glance 
 to her father, and perceiving by the half smile and flush on his 
 cheek that he did not mean to rebuke her, continued, as she rose 
 from her chair. 
 
 " I have no right to interfere in Mr. Conrad s relations with his 
 conference. But my plan would be, for him, with my help, to begin 
 farming or fruit-raising, and give what time he could to the good 
 cause, receiving no pay for it, and coming under no contract with any 
 church." She went out when she had done, without waiting for any 
 answer; a little relieved to hear old Brother Fisher s joking voice 
 and a goorl-humored laugh as she closed the door. 
 
208 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 When her father came to her, soon afterward, he was rubbing 
 his hands with glee. "Seems as if you was prophetic in them 
 words of yours, Meg. Here s a letter which young Maynard had 
 in his pocket, and which he said likely bore on that farm project, 
 and was a good opening for us." 
 
 " You will adopt my plan then, sir ? " eagerly. 
 
 "Yes, I will. I ve always been, in a certain sense, free-footed, 
 and I ll do no less work on the Lord s ground for knowing I m to 
 get no wages for it. Some of them underpaid brethren thought 
 your idees had saving salt in them, I reckon, Meg," with a chuckle. 
 "But let s hear the letter." 
 
 " It is the Markle farm," she said, glancing over it. 
 
 " A first-rate patch of ground, setting aside the woodland," eagerly. 
 " Read it, read it." 
 
 When she had finished the letter, which was an offer to let the 
 farm, as the writer was going to join his brother in the army, and 
 wished to leave the property in safe hands, the old man looked puz 
 zled. " That s onprecedented low rent, Meg. I don t understand 
 it. The Markle land ought to bring in double that. So George s 
 gone to the army ! They re fine boys, them Markles ! Stock 
 and implements, eh ? And the house furnished ? Do you think we 
 can kerry it, Meg ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do ; " her eyes were fixed on the paper, the pallid cheeks 
 strangely mellowing in tint as she looked. 
 
 " That ll be a snug home, and work direct into our hands. But 
 it s an extr odinary low lease ! What s that he says about my 
 agent ? I suppose it s some of the brethren hes mentioned to 
 him we thought of locating hereabouts, eh ? " 
 
 " I do not think it was one of the brethren," folding the letter 
 slowly, while the furrow deepened in her forehead, and her mouth 
 shut, thin and straight. "Will you accept the offer, sir?" 
 
 " Ondoubtedly ! Why, don t you see the advantage of it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I see the advantage." 
 
 "What d ye mean, Meg?" impatiently. "Did you read the 
 whole of the letter to me ? " 
 
 " I read it all, father." 
 
 "What then? Have you any objections to my accepting the 
 offer?" 
 
 She did not answer at once ; stood, drawn to her full height, look 
 ing down at the paper which she had creased and folded in her 
 hands with stern, absent eyes. Once or twice she moved irreso 
 lutely, as if she would have thrown it passionately from her ; but 
 she turned to him at last. 
 
 "ISTo, I do not object." 
 
 "It is a very friendly offer, I take it." 
 
 " It is friendly. I have no right to refuse." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 209 
 
 " I am glad you are pleased, child. We ll soon have a roof over 
 our heads, then, please God." 
 
 When he had bustled out to consult some of the brethren, she 
 threw up the window to breathe the fresh air. There had been 
 times in her life when so eager was she to be independent, to stand 
 acquitted of every favor given her, that she had felt as if this very 
 air, her life itself, was an unpaid debt which weighed her down. 
 So far, she owed no man anything : but as for God, no tranced vis 
 ionary in her church felt His gifts countless as motes in the sun 
 shine, or His infinite tenderness press in and touch her with such 
 keen reality, as blunt, unimaginative Margaret Conrad. The only 
 sense of sin she had, perhaps, was, that she had made no return ; 
 was the consciousness of the great unmalleable power within 
 her, unused and decaying. " If I could justify my right to live, 
 if I had work to do that is religion I could understand," she had 
 said once to her father. 
 
 But it seemed to her to-day as if she were always forced to be 
 passive : helpless now, while the man who would not ask from her 
 even love guarded her. She read the letter again : turned it over, 
 her face varying, as if its formal business words and blank sheet 
 were imbued with a meaning uiat touched her as humor nor pathos 
 had ever done before ; finally, she laid it on the fire, accepting the 
 obligation it had carried to her with the grim, thankless reticence 
 of an Indian. 
 
 " I have no right to refuse," she muttered. " I cannot hinder him 
 from being a man, and helping other men. " 
 
 14 
 
s 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 OLD JOE S DEFEAT. 
 
 OUTHWARK ; which means a wholesome outbreak of prinii 
 tive vagabond blood on the face of the Quaker City; a corner 
 of it which has not been weighted down by old traditions into 
 hopeless and genteel dulness : where the wearisome ghost of Penn, 
 the just, is decently laid: where the legends of Franklin or his 
 kite are unknown, though old stories prevail of tropical lightnings 
 that tore apart ropper-bottomed vessels, and of storms off every 
 known coast; for to these men, thronging in daily from all far, 
 vague haunts of the world from lands of ice and snow, from lands 
 of silent, gigantic tree-growths, with centuries of rank verdure 
 smouldered down into their hot colors and smells; from lands of 
 vast sandy levels and flat copper sky, where the old age of the 
 earth is seated, palsied and immovable, grim and voiceless as the 
 Sphynx ; from lands glutted and teeming with insignificant, abor 
 tive human lives ; from the fresh, fair, green valleys of sea islands, 
 which have been fresh and fair since the day when God first called 
 them good to these men the yesterday s antiquity of Penn and 
 his purchase, or the flat, river-locked mass of red-brick houses, are 
 not apt to be impressive or memorable. 
 
 They bring their own atmosphere with them ; it has an ancient 
 salty whiff of sea winds in it that impregnates the whole district : 
 the houses, the women who never were aboard ship, have suffered 
 the sea change : the very boys affect pea-jackets and sou westers, 
 and are of a general tarry flavor. There is a frontage to the streets 
 on &e river of huge ship-yards ; the streets themselves are narrow, 
 crowded with sail-lofts and junk shops; there are mammoth engine 
 factories ; there are old, towering ship-chandleries and warehouses 
 of sea stores ; there are dusky little lanes lined with slow-growing 
 gardens, whose paths are paved with shells, about low houses in 
 fested by parrots, cats of strange breeds from beyond seas, and 
 superannuated, tobacco-skinned old captains and men-of-war s men, 
 demigods among the lower hordes of sailors, calkers and riggers. 
 
 In Southwark, facing a pier which abutted on the Delaware, was 
 a wide wooden building, beside which, from the top of a ship s 
 mast, a flag floated constantly during the years of the civil war. 
 At the close of a night in the Spring of 62, its red and blue, blown 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 211 
 
 by the wind that preceded dawn, were hardly visible through the 
 heavy shadows : shadows which penetrated inside to the one room 
 filled with tables laid for a thousand guests, and beyond that to 
 huge kitchens, where were smouldering fires, and meats and bread 
 waiting to be served. But neither host nor guests were visible 
 the great empty house might have been but a coarse temple to hos 
 pitality, where the votive fires were made to burn perpetually. 
 
 When the thick fog on the low Jersey shore began to lift, how 
 ever, and a chilly light to creep through it at intervals, the far-off 
 thunder of a train was heard, and was answered by a cannon plant 
 ed at the foot of the mast. 
 
 Presto! hosts and cooks appeared, eager and ready; the fires 
 sprang obedient into life ; old men, anxious housekeepers, and tidy, 
 fresh young girls went from table to table, heaping them as if each 
 coming guest were a Benjamin, and had a brother s claim to wel 
 come ; the crisp bread never seemed so flaky, the yellow butter 
 came out of its leafy covers, the red juice started from the great 
 hams, the hot steam of coffee came in in trailing whiffs through the 
 open door. The train came nearer and stopped, the busy hands 
 moved quicker, and the faces were turned anxiously to the door. 
 Only one woman was quiet : old Friend Blanchard, who had alight 
 ed from her carriage a moment after the report of the cannon, and 
 stood now, waiting, by the stove, the red light of which fell 
 squarely on her white hair . and sharp, nervous features. The door 
 opened, and the guests came in. It took them a long time to defile 
 past her slowly, and seat themselves in silence at the long tables; 
 but, as she watched them, her wrinkled lips trembled, and the tears 
 rose to her keen eyes. 
 
 " When thou makest a feast, " she repeated silently, " c call the 
 poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind. For they cannot recom 
 pense thee ; but thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of 
 the just. " 
 
 She stood without moving for several minutes, scanning each 
 haggard face up and down the long lines, her own growing paler 
 as she looked. 
 
 " I had not thought," she said to a young physician near her, 
 " that there were so many ways of torturing the human body." 
 
 "These men are from a hospital in Washington," he said. 
 " Almost every kind of gun-shot wound is represented. They are 
 on their way to other hospitals some of them to their homes." 
 
 " The man I came to meet," she said, her eyes still passing rapidly 
 over their faces, " is not here. He was coming home." 
 
 " An old man, Madam ? Burley by name ? " asked a woman who 
 had stopped near her. 
 
 " Yes. Thee knows where he is ? " 
 
 " We have beds in a room above. The old man was exhausted 
 
212 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 b/ his journey, and we carried him there. He said his friends were 
 to meet him here. I will lead you to him." 
 
 Friend Blanchard followed her up a narrow flight of wooden 
 steps to a small, whitewashed chamber, with half a dozen pallets 
 ranged against the wall. But one was occupied. As her head rose 
 above the stairs, she saw old Joe s face, miserably gaunt and hag 
 gard, lifted above the pillow. He was resting on his elbow, listen 
 ing intently, while the unbuttoned shirt-collar showed his fleshless 
 neck and the slow, laborious effort which every breath cost. 
 
 " No, I don t chew, comrade," he said, as an old fellow sitting by 
 him proffered him some tobacco. " Besides, I wouldn t foul my 
 breath jest now. I expect a little gal every minute my grand- 
 da ater " his eyes fixed on a door by which he supposed she would 
 enter. 
 
 "It s some time since you seen her?" asked the other, care 
 lessly. 
 
 " It s two months and ten days," promptly. " You d better go 
 down and get your supper, Trumbull. That coffee smells different 
 from our cookery." 
 
 " I ll not leave you till your friends come, Joe. Onless I can 
 bring you a cup ? " half rising. 
 
 " No. I feel the want of it, too. But Rossline 11 have my break 
 fast ready, and I d not disappint her," his eyes growing bright in 
 their dark hollows. 
 
 He turned his head, and, catching sight of the Quakeress coming 
 up from the stairs, dragged himself up higher to peer behind her, 
 a blank look of disappointment clouding his face when he saw that 
 no one followed. He smothered it out of sight in a moment, 
 though, with his instinct of courtesy, holding out his hand, smiling, 
 as she came to the bed. 
 
 " I counted on seein you at the house, Madam ; but not here. 
 It s too aiiy, and too bleak a mornin for you to ventur out. My 
 little gal did not know I was comin , of course ? " 
 
 " No, she did not. I did not even know thee was wounded until 
 last night." 
 
 " No. I kep it quiet. On Rossline s account. You see my life 
 hung on a thread there in camp for weeks, and she couldn t hev 
 reached me. What was the good of frettin the child ? Soon s the 
 doctor said I d took a turn, and needed only careful nursin , a friend 
 of mine (Markle s his name Leftenant Markle) he gits me a fur 
 lough. You go home, Joe, says he. You re as homesick for 
 that little gal of yours as a mother fur her babby. You ll never 
 be a sound man till you see her. That was jest his joke, but it 
 wur nigh about the truth," with a laugh. "But Rossline didn t 
 know I was comin ? " anxiously. 
 
 " No ; she spent last night in town, and thy telegram was 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 213 
 
 brought out to me too late to warn her. I left orders to have thy 
 room made ready, and when she comes it will be a surprise for her." 
 
 " That s so ! " with a delighted chuckle. " I m obleeged to you, 
 Madam. It ll be somethin Rossline didn t expect, to see her gran- 
 iad, to-day ! Well," moving restlessly on the bed, " shall we go ? " 
 
 Fiiend Blanchard had seated herself placidly beside him. 
 * There is no haste. Rosslyn will not go out to the farm until nine, 
 and if I might advise thee, thee would not brave this untempered 
 morning air. Wait until the sun warms it for an hour. Here is 
 Jiy breakfast," turning to a lady, who came up the stairs, with a 
 covered tray. 
 
 Joe s eyes grew brighter at the sight of the hot coffee and meat. 
 " I m main hungry, there s no denyin ," pulling himself up to a sit 
 ting posture. "So, if you ll excuse me, ladies" and he fell to 
 work, drinking their healths with every gulp of coffee, by way of 
 atoning for his incivility. 
 
 "When thee has done, thee will tell me about thy wound, Friend 
 Joseph ? " asked the Quakeress. 
 
 Burley nodded; but secretly he had no intention of allowing 
 Ross to know that it was her brother s hand that had wounded 
 him. While he munched his sandwiches, therefore, he was plan 
 ning how to evade their inquiries. 
 
 " Ther s nothin to tell," he said, wiping his mouth at last, and 
 pushing his plate from him. " I wur outside of the lines, and wur 
 took by a stray shot. Markle, he pulled the skift home to camp. 
 That s all ther wur of it." When they were alone, he raised him 
 self again on his arm eagerly. " It s an hour yet till we kin go, 
 Madam. I d be obleeged to you to tell me somethin of Rossline 
 any little thing she s done or said. Ther s nothin about her that I 
 wouldn t keer to know." 
 
 Now there was an odd affinity between these two, in a something 
 which hid under the old Quakeress trained cynicism, and Burley s 
 simplicity, which took him through life out of one day into another 
 with as dogged, heavy footstep as that of one of his old roadsters. 
 They stood at ease with each other, always ; so that Ross, whose 
 tact and insight were keen, never had even remembered, when they 
 came together, that one was a fine lady and the other a laborer. 
 Now, however, there was a perceptible restraint in Friend Blanch- 
 ard s manner ; she hesitated, hearing his question, keeping her eyes 
 on his, uneasy and watchful, before replying. 
 
 " Thee did not receive my letter, then, Friend Joseph V " 
 
 " I received no letter," a startled look driving away the smile. 
 " What is amiss ? Is the gal ill ? You did not deceive me jest 
 now " 
 
 " She is well ; I never knew her sounder in mind or body ; thee 
 may believe me. And so full of affectionate, pure, silly fancies, so 
 
214 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 ready with her laugh or her tears, so changed from the Ross Burley 
 of a year ago, that I fancy at times she must be breathing some air 
 different from ours, fuller of vigor and sunshine." 
 
 A quizzical smile crept over Burley s haggard face. " That s a 
 
 I curous, womanish notion. Yet I kin understand how it would 
 
 grow out of hearin and seein Rossline. But I think, Madam, you 
 
 have somethin to tell me beyond that ? " with a keen scrutiny of 
 
 her face. 
 
 " Yes. I wrote to thee. I did not speak to Rosslyn before do 
 ing so. I felt that although thee never, in words, put her in my 
 care, I was her guardian, and in a measure responsible to thee and 
 to God for her." 
 
 Burley nodded slowly, drawing himself up on his pillow, breath 
 ing heavily, in his intentness on her words. 
 
 " I have not even spoken to Rosslyn of her danger. I did all I 
 could to ward it off I can acquit myself of blame. But now, it is 
 too late " 
 
 " Will you use plain words, Madam ? " said Burley, a smothered 
 fierceness in his undertone. " What is the gal s danger ? " 
 
 " Only that which besets all women " with a forced smile 
 " love. But, for Rosslyn " She stopped abruptly. 
 
 Burley, to her surprise, made no answer. Once before in his life he 
 had a young girl s fate mixed with his own. When he remembered 
 "Marget" now his face grew more gaunt and older, his wrinkled 
 lips shut straight and thin, his head sank slowly, wearily down. 
 
 " Ther s no use of my cornparin Rossline with my experience of 
 other women," he said at last. " She s made of different clay. I 
 beg yer pardon, Madam," remembering the Quakeress, and glancing 
 toward her. " I was thinkin of matters you are not acquainted 
 with." 
 
 Friend Blanchard, who read his stupid old heart as if it lay bare 
 before her, bowed with a vacant incomprehensive face. 
 
 " Is it an honest-meanin man that has won my little gal s good 
 will ? " he asked presently in a low, unsteady voice. " Kin he give 
 her as honorable, stiddy love as her s will be ? " 
 
 " I know no man more honorable in feeling and purpose than 
 Garrick Randolph," she replied. " Even his family traditions are a 
 safeguard to him : the Randolphs are a good stock." 
 
 Burley moved impatiently. " Blood s a thing I don t set store 
 by. I ve always bin thankful to God that he allowed Rossline to 
 favor them of her kin that were counted vulgar. Ef the man s got 
 clean hands and heart to give my grandda ater, I d rayther he did 
 not belong to the class as calls theirselves gentlemen. I owe you 
 an apology perhaps, Madam," after a pause ; " but it s a prejudice 
 I have." 
 
 Friend Blanchard never combated a prejudice ; she smiled, ab- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 215 
 
 sently, her eyes fixed on her motionless hands crossed on her lap, 
 but the perplexity and distress deepened on her delicate, thin face. 
 
 " Rossline s edication hes been different from the run of Burleys," 
 pursued Joe, anxiously. " I ve bed my doubts ef it was fur the 
 best, but doubts wur of no use ; so it is ; now, if she feels that the 
 Good Man bids her choose this young fellar out from all the world, ^ 
 and cleave to him, lovin him as God loved her, I ve no word to say 
 agen it : though his thoughts mayn t be my thoughts nor his words 
 my words. Only," and his black eye kindled dangerously under 
 the shaggy brows, " let him take care how he uses the gal ill ! 
 Rossline s more to me than any man or woman ever was. More n 
 the wife an da ater of my youth ; when they wur with me I hed 
 other things to sheer in my thoughts. I was keen to make money 
 then. I was keen for my Sunday s pleasuring ; I liked my grog 
 over much, too. But them things wur growin stale when Ross 
 come : she s took their place she s took the place of everything. 
 It s got so now, Madam, that she s the only real live thing in the ft, 
 world to me, an the rest s a sort of dumb show. If she were hurt 
 or took from me, I think I d crumble away, like an old tree when 
 the sap s drawed out of it." 
 
 The Quakeress remained silent : for once in her life words gen 
 tle yet strong enough to convey her meaning failed her. Burley 
 watched her sharply, shifting his wounded body painfully. 
 
 "Ther s some at you hold back," he said at last, sternly; "ef it 
 concerns my little gal, I think I ve a right to know it." 
 
 " Yes. One object I had in keeping thy arrival a secret from 
 Ross, was that I might speak to thee alone. But I find it hard to 
 make my thoughts plain. Thee said, If God made these two 
 young people for each other ? I doubt if that is the case." 
 
 " There s somethin lackin to the young man, then ? " 
 
 Friend Blanchard s lips moved once or twice, her brows contract 
 ing with a puzzled anxiety, but she did not speak. 
 
 " Praps I kin onderstand," said Joe, with a feeble smile. " The 
 young fellar s bin wild ? he likes his glass or a game at cards ? 
 Women s hard judges when they grow old, just as they re too lax 
 younger. I wouldn t be sartin that it wur right to separate them 
 that true love hed jined fur that. Love s a great Gospel preacher, 
 Madam. And the man can t be bad in the grain that my Rossline s 
 drawed to above all others." 
 
 " Thee is wrong," speaking quickly and firmly. " Young Ran 
 dolph s life has been singularly clean and pure. The difficulty lies 
 here : that his ideas of the value of blood are different from thine 
 or mine. It is not the honesty or integrity of a race he recog 
 nizes so much as their age and position. He loves Rosslyn with all 
 the strength of his nature, but he does not know that there is any 
 reason why his education should interfere with his love. He does 
 
216 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 not know," she hesitated and colored, " that there is any difference 
 in a worldly view between her family and his own." 
 
 Burley set up erect on the pallet as she proceeded, the unkempt, 
 white hair pushed back from his set, gaunt face. No trace of anger 
 had crossed it ; he looked up quiet and grave when she had done. 
 "Them prejudices seems paltry to me : ther s nothin in them. Hes 
 Rossline wilfully deceived him ? " 
 
 " No," eagerly. " She has, I believe, had no chance to explain, 
 He never has formally asked for her hand ; he has been in Wash* 
 ington for several weeks. But to-day he is to return, and in this 
 note, which I received yesterday, he asks my leave to address her." 
 She opened and gave it to him. " He looks upon me as her guar 
 dian, thee will perceive." 
 
 She was surprised to notice that the old wagoner s face colored 
 like a girl s when he took the letter, and that a quaint, sorrowful 
 smile came into his eyes, though not upon his lips. The love of hia 
 little girl and all that concerned it seemed to him, she saw, a thing 
 unutterably sacred and pure. He read the letter again and again 
 attentively. At last, folding it carefully in its first creases, he laid 
 it gently down, covering it with his hand. 
 
 " That is true love," half under his breath. " I m satisfied with 
 the man that wrote that letter." 
 
 Abigail Blanchard checked the words upon her tongue, perceiv 
 ing that his head had bent on his breast, and an expression had 
 settled in his face w r hich she could not interpret. 
 
 " I think thee would approve of Randolph if thee saw him," she 
 ventured, at length. 
 
 "Yes, them is genooine words," absently, without raising his 
 head. Something in the old, half-hidden face touched her painfully. 
 She laid her hand upon his arm. " Can I help thee ? " 
 
 Even then he did not look up for a moment. When he did, it 
 was with a grave smile. " I was thinking that no thin stood be 
 tween Rossline and her good fortin but her old grandad. I never 
 thought it would come to that." 
 
 The old lady s thin cheeks grew red. " Thee deceives thyself. 
 Thee does not understand." 
 
 " I think I do," quietly. " I ve looked for ard to this matter afore, 
 but it always seemed onreal to me. You mean that Rossline s birth 
 and edication is agen them prejudices of his ? That s so. But a 
 young man that loves her could overlook them things. They re 
 dead an out of sight. But an old fellar like me," with a wretched 
 attempt at a laugh, " is a livin fact. I d be a perpetooal disgrace 
 feittin in the chirnley corner with my missabul English, and talk of 
 wagonin and prodooce and lumber." 
 
 " Not to a true man," hotly. 
 
 " I think the man that wrote them words is a true man," calmly 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 217 
 
 "He s got his notions jest as you and I hev. An the pint is, is 
 Ross s life to be given up on account o them? Wouldn t it be 
 better for us to humor them a bit ? " 
 
 " What does thee propose ? " 
 
 He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, all sign of emo 
 tion was held in check, out of his quiet, resolute voice. " Ef ther s 
 only one thing in Ross road to bein happy, it s best to do away 
 with it. I perpose that you shell continue to be Rossline s gar- 
 deen, as you say he thinks you. You re a fitter purtector for her 
 as she is now, than me, though I ve been slow to see that. She 
 does not know I have come back. Ther s no need for her to know 
 it," hurrying the broken sentences out as though his strength was 
 giving way. " I ll go down with Trumbull to the South Street 
 Hospital. I ll be well keered for there. When I m able, I ll go 
 back without seein her. I ll not cross their path. I ll leave her 
 futur to you. Ther ll be a long spell of fightin before this war s 
 over, an it s not prob ble in the nateral course of things that I ll 
 ever come out of it. That was what I perposed, ef you ll keep the 
 secret for me." 
 
 Now Friend Blanchard, with all her sympathy for old Joe, held 
 Ross near as her own child ; here was a way opened of escape for 
 her. She saw what the sacrifice would cost the old man. He had 
 lain back on the pillows when he had done speaking, his breath 
 coming feebly and at long intervals, his white eye-lashes resting on 
 the hollow cheeks ; the face might have been that of a dead man 
 but for the resolute compression in it. The Quakeress seized eagerly 
 upon that very resoluteness to help her. He was obstinately beijt 
 on this course : why should she oppose him ? The loss would be 
 bitter to him : but it was a manly sacrifice ; besides, as he said, he 
 was an old man, he had but a few weeks furlough, after that a 
 year s fighting perhaps, and then the long rest ; while to her child, 
 as she fondly called Ross, life was yet in its first morning nour. 
 
 To give him a short pleasure, must it all be clouded ? must the 
 girl go with empty heart and hand to the grave ? 
 
 Friend Abigail twice leaned forward to say that she consented, 
 but the face on the pillow awed the words back from her lips. He 
 opened his eyes, and looked up at her dully. 
 
 " There is no time to lose," he said. " My little gal I mean Ross- 
 line may go back to the house, and by some means discover that I 
 am here. I ll be removed at once." 
 
 Friend Blanchard rose nervously, but with alacrity. He had not 
 asked her consent again, and somehow she felt as if the responsi 
 bility was shifted from her shoulders. " I will have pillows placed 
 in the carriage. I will drive thee to the hospital," she said. 
 
 " It does not need. Trumbull is goin in an ambulance. He ll 
 ee to me. She might see the kerridge, and suspect some at. Do 
 
218 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 not stay longer, Madam, Pm obleeged to you for comin , " He 
 closed his eyes again wearily. 
 
 Steps were heard on the stairs, and Trumbull appeared. 
 
 "Friend Joseph," said the Quakeress, turning to him with a 
 guilty color on her face, " will go with thee to the hospital. Thee 
 does not leave any charge with me about Rosslyn ? " stooping over 
 Joe. 
 
 " It doesn t need," gently. " I ve give her over to Him that s 
 always had her in keer. He ll keep her friends true to her and 
 her husband." 
 
 " Ye r goin to the hospital, Joe ? " said Trumbull with a per 
 plexed face, raising his voice, and looking back over his shoulder 
 to the s lairs. 
 
 " To the hospital ! " There was a cry and a scurry of well-known 
 feet across the floor, that drove the blood fiercely back into old Joe s 
 faintly-beating heart, and then two arms were about him, and he 
 was pulled up against a soft breast, and kisses and tears, each hot- 
 tor and faster than the other, came showering down all over his face 
 and hair, and took away his breath. 
 
 " Why grandad ! grandad ! " she cried, whereat Joe managed 
 with a hysteric sob and chuckle to get a glimpse of her face. She 
 had been crying for a long time, enough to make both eyes and 
 nose red. It did not seem to be the dainty, delicate woman whom 
 he had left a month or two ago, so much as the little yellow-haired, 
 freckled-faced herb-girl of long ago, coming out of one of her kinks 
 of temper, with a threatened blow in her eyes and a kiss on her 
 mouth. He gripped her shoulder with one hand. He had her safe : 
 that was his sole thought : forgetting Randolph altogether. 
 
 " I did not mean to tell you I was here," he said. 
 
 " No. I suspected it. I dragged it out of Matsy, or I would 
 never have known," with an indignant flash of the eyes at Friend 
 Blanchard. " Some other time you can explain the plan -^ me," 
 shutting her mouth tightly, though she busied herself aboli. iilai 
 tenderly as a mother might with her baby. 
 
 Friend Blanchard with difficulty hid a smile at her temper, " Thy 
 shoes are wet and muddy," she said, placidly. 
 
 " I came into town on foot. I could not wait. It is here the 
 wound was, grandad ? " her features growing pale and sharp as blie 
 passed her hand over his side. " Doctor Broderip must see it him 
 self, and," her brows contracting irritably again, " I will nurse you 
 as well as the amateur hands at the hospitals. Your room is all 
 ready, and here is your old loose coat, and," beginning to unlace 
 his heavy shoes, "I brought your own slippers. I thought you d 
 be foot-sore with these clogs, and the old things I worked would 
 seem home-like." 
 
 Trumbull had shuffled off. The two old people watched her 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 219 
 
 keenly as she worked about the bed, trembling and eager : Joe with 
 a half-amused, half-sad smile: but -the Quakeress saw something 
 more than a transient flash of rage in her now colorless face and 
 burning eyes. She knew that Ross was quick-sighted: she saw 
 that she had guessed the reason of the deception they meant to 
 practice on her, and that the separation between her and her grand 
 father was intended to be perpetual. There was an unspeakable 
 tenderness in her every look and touch turned toward him, which 
 neither his return nor even his escape from danger would account 
 for. It was a_s if absolute Death had interposed between them, and 
 she herself had driven him back. 
 
 Joe got her arm in his hands, at last, and patted it, with just the 
 old quizzical, soothing manner he was wont to use to her in her ob 
 stinate fits of ill-humor, long ago. 
 
 " My little gal s onreasonable to-day," he said, gently. " She 
 don t wait to hear the rights of the case, or why I meant not to 
 come anigh her jest now." 
 
 " We will not talk of it," decisively. " You thought you were 
 kind. But you don t know your sweetheart after all," buttoning 
 the coat up close under his chin. 
 
 Even Burley noticed the increasing pallor of her face, and that 
 the cold, clammy sweat had wet the golden hair about her temples. 
 She continued to arrange his clothes, his knapsack and bundle, 
 making ready to start, talking all of the time, using old names by 
 which she had called him when a child, and old words long ago 
 fallen into disuse ; she took fierce and firm possession of him by 
 the right of those old days, as it were, in every motion or phrase : 
 but she curiously avoided meeting his eye, which followed her. 
 Claiming him, she faced her ot her loss. 
 
 She bent down to tie his woolen comforter about his ears, at last. 
 " The carriage is in waiting ? " she said to Friend Blanchard. 
 
 Then Burley took her hand in his. " We ve gone fur enough, lit 
 tle gal," he said, patting it slowly in his other palm. " I d made 
 iny mind up before you come in, and I hevn t changed it now, 
 though I couldn t forbear the pleasure of seem you movin about 
 the bed as if you belonged to me yit. But we may as well settle 
 this matter now, once and for all." 
 
 Ross Burley stood upright, looking suddenly at the flood of win 
 try morning sunlight that came in at the window. Whatever spasm 
 of emotion swept over her face was illegible to the Quakeress keen 
 scrutiny as words in a language to which she had no key. It was 
 gone in a moment. She turned with a cheerful smile, stroking back 
 his gray hair playfully. 
 
 " Let us settle it now and forever then. What is the case, and 
 all of the rights of it ? I ll not be unreasonable," with a swift 
 glance out at the clear air and light. 
 
220 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The wintry daylight grew animate just then, falling about her 
 vivid and clear as she stood looking down at him with one wrinkled, 
 leather-colored hand in hers. Whatever had been feverish or mor 
 bid in her mood seemed to have fallen away : a delicate rose coloi 
 came and went in her cheeks, the smile on her lips was fresh and 
 cheery, the large brown eyes were brilliant under their mist of 
 tears. 
 
 Old Joe s eyes passed slowly over her from head to foot ; .he 
 raised himself on one elbow, speaking with difficulty. " Ef you 
 could see yerself to-day, sweetheart, you d know the reasonable 
 ness of what I want to do. When you was a quick-tempered, 
 rompish little gal, gettin hungry half a dozen times a day, and 
 tearin yer frocks perpetooally, yer old grandad could be of use to 
 you, and understand what you wanted. But it s different now. 
 You re a golden-haired, delicate lady. There s none of them fairer 
 or choicer than you. You ve got thoughts and wants beyond me, 
 that I ll never understand. You ve gone into another world like 
 from mine, Rossline. I ought for to have seen that long ago, but 
 someway I never did ontil some words from Madam here showed 
 it to me to-day. I m obleeged to her for them." 
 
 He stopped for some reply, but she made none ; only the brown 
 eyes grew brighter and steadier as they fixed themselves on his. 
 He fumbled in his gray beard with his trembling fingers a mo 
 ment. 
 
 " Things which is onnateral ought not for to be," he said. " Ef 
 I m in yer way, my little gal (an ther s nobody sees that I am so 
 clear as myself), then the time s come fur us to part. The Good 
 Man meant me to be a help to you an not a millstone about yer 
 neck. I ll go back to my fellars. Don t you be oneasy about me, 
 little sister. I ll not be unhappy ; it s not my disposition ; and I ll 
 be more contented fur thinkin I ve seen the clean way to take, an 
 took it. First, I ll go to the hospital. I ll be well keered for 
 ther." 
 
 She had not moved nor spoken, but with her hand on his wrist 
 and the clear, penetrating look on his face, it seemed to the old 
 man as if his secret soul, with the pain that wrung it, was open to 
 her : the words of feigned calmness had come from his mouth half 
 articulated : he moved feebly, uncertainly, under her eye. 
 
 " You will go to the hospital," she said, quickly. "And I ?" 
 
 He looked at her now, the bitterest truth oozing from his mouth. 
 " Ther s one that s nearer to you then me, Rossline. That s nateral. 
 I don t find no fault. I ll not keep you from him. He s comin to 
 night to-night," feeling her arm tremble, " to ask you to be his 
 wife. I ll not stand between you and him." He covered his eyes 
 with his hands ; the hand was dry and weak there was not much 
 life in it. The thought came to him, which is the bitterest in life, 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 221 
 
 which comes at times into the cheerfullest old age, that his w ork 
 was done, that he only now cumbered the earth, and that it would 
 be decenter in him to be gone, and out of the way of those whom 
 he could no longer serve. For one minute there was silence, then 
 a healthy moist hand was laid upon his forehead, pushing his own 
 away. 
 
 " Grandad ! grandad ! " It was the cheerfullest, lovingest voice 
 in the world that called to him. 
 
 " Now hear my story." The voice was hardly above a whisper : 
 but her tones were strong and earnest, and she stooped, vehement 
 in her eagerness, looking into his eyes. 
 
 " There was a little girl once, an ugly little tomboy, if you will, 
 to whom you were truer than you are to Ross Burley to-day. You 
 gave her more than food or clothes or love : you believed in her, 
 you trusted her. You never would have spoken to her the words 
 you have done just now to me. They are unjust and cruel ! " the 
 angry tears flashing into her eyes. 
 
 " Why, Rossline ! " 
 
 " You do not see the meaning of what you have said," passion- 
 ately. " You did not mean, maybe, to put your delicate, golden- 
 haired lady upon a par with a savage who carries his father out 
 for the beasts to gnaw, when he is too old to work; but you did it 
 you did it," with a womanish sob. " I don t know your golden- 
 haired lady," falling on her knees by the bed and hiding her face 
 and trembling hands in his breast. " I don t know her ! I m 
 only your little Rossline that you used to believe in. I ve never 
 changed to you never ! " 
 
 " I know it, sweetheart, I know it ! " holding her head close with 
 both hands : for she had touched the quick in the old man s heart, 
 and all of his resolution and reasons had crumbled away. Friend 
 Blanchard had long since left them alone. 
 
 " And the young man ? this Randolph, sweetheart ? " in a low, 
 unsteady whisper, his fingers stopping their soothing stroke on her 
 head. 
 
 She raised her face slowly : there was no blush on it as she looked 
 into his eyes with the whole truth bared in hers. "I think," she 
 said, quietly, " I think that he loves the golden-haired lady. Some 
 day, perhaps, he may know and love Rosslyn. Now, she has no 
 body s true love but yours," laying her head down again. The red 
 blood crept up into the old man s face, and his eyes shone as if a 
 new lease of life and health had come to him. 
 
 " So ? " he said, softly pulling out the long, curly hair through 
 his fingers. " So ? I ll never be cruel to my little gal agin then. 
 But you see I mistook : I thought my work was done." 
 
 Friend Blanchard came in at that moment. He looked up, smil 
 ing eagerly " I ve got my little Rossline yet as I thought I d lost. 
 
222 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Madam, we understand each other. Nothin but death ll ever par 4 
 her and me. Shell we go home now, sweetheart ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 NATURE AGAINST CIRCUMSTANCE. 
 
 " EF you ll open the curtains, I ll look over the papers a bit, 
 Rossline. I want to see what the boys is doin since I left : though 
 there ll be no more trouble in Eastern Kentucky. Garfield routed 
 the Rebels out, root an branch, the day of that fight on Middle 
 Creek. I d no hand in that," as he unfolded the morning paper. 
 
 " But you brought information as to the strength of the enemy," 
 said Ross, eagerly. 
 
 " T want brought, that, Rossline. The credit of tryin s owin 
 to a fellar named Nat, an he lost more n life by it. I mean," 
 seeing her inquiring look, " he was tuk back into slavery. He be 
 longed to to a planter down ther," checking himself at Strebling s 
 name. " Ha ! I see the Colonel ll be promoted," glancing over the 
 paper. " That s right ! I m glad o that ! " heartily. 
 
 Ross waited a few moments, and then seeing that he was engrossed 
 by the news, spelling it over half aloud with his brows knit, she 
 rose and began to set the room in order for the evening. It was 
 his own old chamber, filled with his belongings which had been 
 part and parcel of himself since the wagoning days. Carpet and 
 curtains and bed were fhe best and warmest which Ross could buy ; 
 but the sheep-skin-covered chair which Bob Comly made him, still 
 stood by the chimney side, the old eight-day clock with its red- 
 faced sun rising over the dial, was in the corner, and his blackened 
 old pipe hung from the key. 
 
 It had been a very happy day for the old man ; he was at home 
 again. Doctor Broderip had seen his wound and promised to send 
 him back to the boys, cured, in a month s time. Ross had been 
 close by his side, and even Friend Blanchard, finding that the 
 ebb and flow of events took their own course without let or hin 
 drance from her, made the best of her own helplessness as usual, 
 and had been with him and Ross in and out, merry and gossipping 
 all day. He had almost forgotten that it was to-night that Ran 
 dolph was coming ; or, if he remembered it, glanced at Ross s happy 
 quiet face, and thought it could matter little whether he came 01 
 not. 
 
 The day had been warm ; the evening sun was slanting red bars 
 of level light into the room, that struck across his newspaper. " It s 
 later than I thought," he said, looking up. " I ve talked too much 
 to-day, and you ve been shet up in this room too much, sweetheart," 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 223 
 
 touching her pale cheek. " I ll jest look down this column, and then 
 lie down a bit. You need not comeJback till bed-time, Rossline; I 
 think I ll sleep." 
 
 She did not go directly, fearing he might think her glad to escape, 
 wheeled the lounge up to the fire, arranged the pillows, and then 
 parting the gray hairs, kissed him with a jest and laugh, and went 
 out and into her own room, closing the door after her. 
 
 Friend Blanchard, who had been listening for her step, went soon 
 afterward and tapped at the door. She knocked two or three times 
 before it was opened. But when Ross came to it her countenance 
 was inscrutable, its outside mask quiet and cheerful. The Quaker 
 ess never had worn before the girl so earnest or pained a face. 
 
 Ross took her hand and drew her in. "You are in trouble?" 
 gently. 
 
 " Not for myself, Rosslyn," scanning her with her piercing eyes. 
 " But thy grandfather has told thee the object of Garrick Ran 
 dolph s return? He is coming here to-night." 
 
 " I know," leaning with one hand on the mantle-shelf and looking 
 into the fire. But Ross had a vein of her grandfather s stubborn 
 pride no trace of pain, no demonstrative blush came out on the 
 fair, pale cheek. 
 
 "I have no right to intrude upon thy confidence, my child, and 
 yet I am greatly troubled for thee, Rosslyn," and tears swam in 
 the black eyes. 
 
 Ross put out her hand impetuously, but without lifting her eyes. 
 " You have every right to my confidence ! But what is there to 
 tell ? There is a great gulf between Garrick Randolph and the 
 woman which I know myself to be. He cannot come to me, nor I 
 go to him. The story is told ; there is no need of lamentation over 
 it. There shall be none." 
 
 " It has not always seemed to thee that the story must end thus, 
 Ross." 
 
 " No," slowly ; " not always. But what will you have ? " look 
 ing up with a sudden smile, though the smothered thought beneath 
 would force itself through her honest, brown eyes. " All of us have 
 some hard circumstance like manacles to carry through life, and if 
 we take it up and own it truthfully, it loses half its shame. Some 
 day, like Christian s load, it will fall oif, I suppose." 
 
 " Thee intends to tell the truth to Garrick, then ? The whole 
 truth ? " rising from her chair and standing beside her. 
 
 Ross was silent : not, however, Friend Blanchard saw, from want 
 of decision. 
 
 "Thee is unwilling to pain me by thy answer: but thee shows 
 little mercy to thyself, Rosslyn," impatiently. 
 
 "What would you bid me do? Common honesty makes my 
 course clear." 
 
224 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Common honesty does not demand the story of thy birth, or, 
 in any case, the name of thy father : the man of all others ob 
 noxious to Randolph " She stopped abruptly. " Rosslyn ! thee 
 can scarcely draw thy breath I have worn out thy strength." 
 
 " I m only tired with standing," said healthy Ross, who never 
 had known an aching bone or nerve. 
 
 " If it is only thy body that suffers, thee will be better alone." 
 And Friend Blanchard, after herself stirring the fire to make a 
 cheerful light in the room, went out noiselessly : thinking, after she 
 had shut the door, that if Ross had been less strong and healthy, 
 if brain or body had been unequal in power, she would have suf 
 fered less in the loss coming to her to-night. But she was, of all 
 women, the type of a wife and mother in the old Friend s eyes 
 strong-limbed, clear-brained, with affections that had their rise with 
 the wholesome currents of her life, and would go with it into what 
 ever waited for her beyond Death. 
 
 Friend Blanchard sat alone in the sober-hued luxury of her own 
 chamber, until the sun had set, and twilight began to gather gray 
 and calm, listening for the tramp of Randolph s horse, or for a sign 
 of life in the girl s adjoining room ; but all was silent. 
 
 Now and then she pressed her finger and thumb on her aching 
 temples with a frown of pain, and sometimes smiled cynically, in 
 venting stinging sarcasms touching Randolph, toward whom she 
 began to feel a curious antipathy. There were none of his absurdi 
 ties of stately awkwardness, prosy talk, bigotry or priggishness, 
 that she did not lash mercilessly to herself. When she had finished, 
 she felt relieved, folded up her whip and laid it aside, so to speak, 
 and, ringing for lights, took up her book, prepared to bear Ross 
 defeat with the philosophy which had so often helped her through 
 her own. 
 
 The book shook in her hand, however, the letters hazed together : 
 she laid it down, her hands falling into their habitual calm clasp on 
 her knees, while she bent her head, again to listen. There was a 
 silence like that of death in Rosslyn s room. The last time he 
 came, Friend Blanchard remembered well the delicious thrill of 
 preparation that seemed to pervade the house, coming from the 
 heart of its mistress : how farm and house were set in order like a 
 kingdom making ready for its lord, and Ross adorning herself, with 
 a new meaning in her fresh face and form, as Esther was purified 
 and brought to the king in rich and rare vestments. 
 
 There was no preparation made for him now : Friend Blanchard 
 alone remembered to order lights in the little parlor down stairs, 
 whose glimmer out into the night might seem to give him welcome. 
 From Ross room came neither light nor sound. 
 
 At last, just before dusk, she heard the far-off tramp of hoofs 
 down among the mist of the creek bank ; a slow, regular tramp. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 225 
 
 " He rides to his mistress as methodically and decorously as to his 
 lawyer," sneered the old lady. 
 
 She did the simple-hearted gentleman injustice. Coming nearer 
 to the house, he drew the rein tighter, held back the horse into a 
 walk. The end was so near! His breath clogged his lungs, the 
 hot throbbing in his brain grew still. Passion, once thoroughly 
 roused, as in all lethargic, cold temperaments, had utter mastery of 
 him. Yet beneath it all, the germ of his worship of this pure 
 woman, and of all women in her, was the honor he paid her, the re 
 spect, the homage ; far more than selfish desire to call her his own. 
 All his life he had an instinct for that which was clean and pure : 
 no nun could loathe a foul word or doubtful look as did the reticent, 
 awkward scholar. Down in Washington, jostled by brazen female, 
 lobby-members, and permit-vendors, he had hid the thought of 
 Rosslyn deeper and deeper out of sight, until it seemed to him that 
 he had found in this innocent maiden the very heart of hearts of 
 all the purity of life. It was as if the one white lily of the world 
 had waited for him to pluck and hide its sweetness in his breast. 
 
 When once this whimsical fancy, which might have belonged to 
 some troubadour s love song, grew into his brain, a thousand 
 remembrances of her gave it consistency and strength. Her very 
 breath, fresh as a new-born babe s, the pure, tender color of blue 
 which she always wore, and which seemed to him to typify to the 
 strength of innocence, touched his memory gratefully. 
 
 She was like a rare, radiant dream to him in Washington ; but 
 when he came into the same air she breathed, she became so real to 
 him ; she so warped his senses, his very reason, by the mere fact of 
 living, that he trembled at the thought of actual contact with her, 
 face to face. As his horse came tramping over the little bridge 
 with the measured pace that so enraged Friend Blanchard, he was 
 looking down at his fingers, wondering if he ever should touch her 
 hair, touch her warm, blushing cheek with them, his face pale with 
 the sudden, electric thrill in his blood at the thought. He was 
 almost a middle-aged man now, and love was a new passion; it 
 terrified, bewildered him with its force. 
 
 He put his finger in his waistcoat pocket to feel if the ring was 
 safe, which he meant to be the sign of their betrothal. He took it 
 out and held it up in the fading light : a single pearl, set in her own 
 color, blue. Diamonds had seemed gaudy and tawdry when he 
 thought of her. He had bought the ring, planned their home (for 
 he meant they should be married in a month) planned, too, bring 
 ing her down to his own home in Kentucky, when this miserable, 
 bloody work would allow him to bring his bird to the one nest 
 which he fancied had been made ready and intended for her from 
 the beginning of the world. 
 
 15 
 
226 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 It never occurred to his inborn self-content that he would be dis 
 appointed. 
 
 Friend Blanchard, hearing the horse s steps coming up the road 
 and round to the side entrance, rose nervously, and opened her own 
 door into the dark upper passage. She was perplexed and nervous. 
 Should she go down and warn him ? Warn him of what ? It was 
 a matter which belonged to these two souls alone before God ; it 
 was left to her to stand aside. 
 
 But she listened intently until the heavy man s step crossed the 
 porch and entered the room below ; then she heard a movement in 
 Ross s room as if she, too, had heard it and had risen wearily. A 
 moment after, without waiting to be summoned, she opened the 
 door, and came out. For the first time in her life, perhaps, she had 
 given no thought to her appearance. Her tight-fitting dress was 
 the same which she had worn all day ; she had bathed her face in 
 cold water, to take away the physical pain, but her hair, left to 
 itself, clung all over her head and neck in a mass of tangled, 
 glistening rings. Yet, as she passed Friend Blanchard without 
 seeing her, and mechanically went down the stairs, the old 
 Quakeress, who had the fierce relish of a man and of an artist for 
 beauty, held her breath. The girl, with her slow step and straight- 
 lidded eyes, walked as if in sleep. She wore her body unconscious 
 and neglectful of it as a half-used garment, yet never was its beauty 
 so dominant or perilous. Friend Blanchard followed like one en 
 chanted, step by step, watching her until she opened the door and 
 went in to meet her lover. 
 
 " If all the sins of the world, instead of that paltry shame, had 
 fallen on her, I would marry her if I were a man ! " muttered the 
 vehement old woman. 
 
 Garrick Randolph, who was a man, stood silent when she came 
 in, though he had conned again and again the fit words in which to 
 greet her. What she said to him, or whether he answered or not, 
 he did not know; for a moment she was only a picture whose 
 beauty, whose nearness to himself smote him dumb as it had done 
 the first moment of their meeting. It was as novel and unexpected 
 now. When she was seated in her usual low chair, the very fram 
 ing of the picture became full of meaning to his heated brain. He 
 had seen other young women seated by cosy fires, with books, 
 and music, and bits of half-finished sewing scattered about, and 
 the scene had not been as picturesque to him as the inside of a 
 blacksmith s forge. 
 
 But this was home. 
 
 All the lonely, methodic life of the scholar culminated in the un 
 licensed, hungry craving that rose in soul and body. He was not 
 conscious that their attempts at conversation fell into short, dis- 
 
WATTING FOR THE VERDICT. 227 
 
 connected platitudes, and finally into silence. While she sat, her 
 hands clasped on her knee, looking wistfully into the fire, the big, 
 awkward fellow bent closer and closer over her, his breath coming 
 in hot, quick gasps to his open lips, his womanish, blue eyes swim 
 ming in tears. She seemed to him unspeakably simple and weak : 
 before, there had hung about her a chill of self-reliance that had 
 daunted him; but to-day his instinct told him it was gone; she was 
 as tender and helpless as a baby. He wondered if it ever would be 
 given to him to tend and honor her as others had done here, glancing 
 jealously about the room. Could his love ever make that other 
 home warm as this in which her childhood lingered and still lived 
 with her? It occurred to him then, being tortured with impatience 
 to utter the words which should make her his, that it would partly 
 show to her the tenderness in his heart to tell her of the home to 
 which his memories belonged, as her s to the old farm-house. True, 
 he had gone over every rood of ground in his interminable talks 
 with her before, but he did not think of that ; and just then there 
 was no time in his life when the tears had been brought to his 
 credulous eyes which did not come vaguely back to him and mingle 
 with the meaning of the girl s figure sitting there ; for, as usual, 
 Garrick s brain was like a slow clock, and when it should have 
 struck the decisive hour, was clogged with the dust of all the years 
 gone before. 
 
 He fumbled in the many pockets of his brown coat, and finally 
 pulled out a photograph. " I brought this for you to look at, Miss 
 Burley," he said, sitting down near her, but carefully avoiding, 
 with his usual grave reserve, all contact between even his foot and 
 her dress. " It is my home " not observing that she turned her 
 eyes back to the fire with a look of repugnance. What was his 
 home to her? 
 
 It did not matter whether she talked or not, however ; the groove 
 was wide and well-used, and his thought ran easily in it. She 
 understood that. She understood, too, the heat that came and went 
 to his cheek, the liquid light in the blue eye, which was fixed on 
 her face instead of the picture, as he pointed out the points in the 
 landscape, mapping as it were, his life from boyhood to middle-age. 
 Never had it seemed to her so different from other men s, so whole 
 some, solitary, walled in from vice. While hers There were 
 oaths and obscene phrases which she had heard long ago in her 
 stall, which thronged back to her now for the first time in many 
 years. What if this man s pure eyes could read them in her brain ! 
 he would know the difference then ! She could have laughed aloud 
 in the bitterness of her soul. A morbid, taunting spirit possessed 
 Ross s healthy brain for the first time in her life. 
 
 Garrick s voice was low and unsteady : he was speaking of his 
 mother. " She set out this clump of firs to the right, l*ere " and 
 
228 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 this copper-beech tree, so that its bronze leaves might catch the 
 last rays of the sun. She had a quick eye for color : you can see 
 traces of her work in all the landscape about the house even now. 
 This photograph is from a picture she painted of the old home 
 stead. She painted it for me, and had it framed. It hangs in my 
 own chamber at home." 
 
 He moved uneasily, grew silent, rose suddenly, and walked across 
 the floor, looking out of the window a moment, then came back 
 and stood beside her again. 
 
 "She made it for me. She gave it to me only a month before 
 she died ; she kissed me, I remember, and said : Garrick, when you 
 marry, give this to the woman you love, and tell her I ask her to 
 be as true to you and the old home here as your mother was. " 
 
 He held out the picture as he spoke, but, though her eyes were 
 fixed on it, she did not touch it. He laid it down, and stood, with 
 his clasped hands behind him, bending over her. The rising night 
 wind beat the leafless branches without against the window-pane : 
 struck a chill through the room, her hair moved in it, the firelight 
 wavered unsteadily to and fro. Surely she knew the words that 
 hung on his hot lips. She had risen, and stood facing him ; her 
 lips, her very eyes, grew wan and expressionless when they met his, 
 as if some fierce, smothered emotion within had absorbed her 
 strength. 
 
 " I have here " his hand trembled as he thrust it into his breast 
 and drew out an ivory miniature " I have here a likeness of my 
 mother, Miss Burley. I always have worn it. It seemed to me for 
 many years until I grew a middle-aged man that no other woman 
 could ever be to me so pure, or so dear. Since she died, no eye but 
 mine has rested on it. I would be glad if" He stopped abruptly. 
 Ross stood before him dumb and motionless. 
 
 " I would be glad if you would care to think that her eyes were 
 turned to you out of her home yonder with the same tender care 
 that they have for me. I think that they are. My mother will 
 you look at my mother, Miss Burley ? " 
 
 He held out the miniature : she took it, and, quickly turning the 
 face dcynward, laid it unseen upon the mantle-shelf. 
 
 " I have something to say to you," she said : her numbed, cold 
 hands trying to chafe each other, and then falling straight at her 
 sides. 
 
 Garrick Randolph, in his slow way, looked once and again from 
 the girl s face to the slighted portrait of his mother, drawing his 
 powerful frame to its full height as one who faces a blow. "You 
 have not understood me. I had no intention of hurting you. And 
 I have hurt you to the quick," suddenly putting out one hand as 
 if to save her from falling, a bewildered pain in his face. 
 
 But Rosslyn drew further back. " I understand you. You 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 229 
 
 chose me for your friend once, and, as a sign of the trust you place 
 in me, you wish me to look at this face so dear to you. But " 
 
 " Do you think I have intended only friendship ? " vehemently. 
 
 Ross face burned crimson in her eagerness to stay him before he 
 made his meaning clear. "You are deceived in me. I am not a 
 woman in whose hands you would wish to place that picture. They 
 are not clean according to your rules : there is not a drop of blood 
 in my veins which would not be tainted in your judgment," the 
 red spot burning deeper with each word, an indignant light in her 
 eyes. The hand which he had put out toward her a moment ago, 
 he thrust nervously into his breast, an habitual motion with him. 
 To her it meant that he dreaded contamination ; her jealous eyes 
 took note of its contour, its flexibility the hand of an idle, sensi 
 tive man; of the rare old heir-loom of a ring he wore 
 
 " There is a fable that all men are born free and equal in this 
 country," she said, with a sudden cool self-control. " It only needs 
 for you and me to stand face to face to prove the baseness of the 
 falsehood. Every man carries the stamp of his birth and breeding 
 as plainly in his soul as on his face : but none plainer than you and 
 I. I have heard of equality and brotherhood all my life, but there 
 is not a face I meet on the streets which does not bear terrible 
 marks of the difference made in the nature of a man by money and 
 rank and the want of them. Sometimes my caste has the advan 
 tage, sometimes yours : but the gulf is always there." 
 
 "You class yourself apart from me? "with a stunned, bewild 
 ered face. 
 
 "You are one of the class born with clean garments, whose 
 daily air is supposed to be instinct with honor and purity, while 
 I" 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 Randolph stood with his head bent down : he raised his hand to 
 his throat once or twice as if his breath failed him. When she did 
 not speak, he said, in a low, constrained voice, without raising his 
 eyes : 
 
 "In any other case I should avoid your confidence, but, Miss 
 Burley, I think I have a right to know who you are." 
 
 "Yes, you have the right." She looked down into the fire, her 
 brows knit, gathering her thoughts. She who had the shameful 
 story to tell was quiet and grave : the man whose record was hon 
 orable, who had no past to hide, grew pale, his jaws working ner 
 vously in keen sympathy with the pain she hid, more than from his 
 own dread. 
 
 "I have one favor to ask of you, Mr. Randolph," said Ross: 
 " that you will make no comment on my story. It does not seem 
 to me to call for pity. Perhaps, even it may touch you with a cer 
 tain respect for me. But I could not bear respect from you," 
 
230 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 with a sudden movement of her hand to her head indescribably 
 passionate and womanish. 
 
 Randolph muttered some inarticulate words. She did not hear 
 them. "There is no shame attached to birth or position which 
 would be degrading in your eyes that does not belong to mine. 
 My childhood was passed in the lowest haunts of poverty ; where 
 stains cling to the soul, which, you were careful to tell me, never 
 will wash away." As the words came from her mouth, each one 
 seeming to drag out a remnant of her life and strength, she saw the 
 man s head sink slowly on his hand, the arm steadied on the mantle- 
 shelf. His eyes were hid, but the haggard want of color showed 
 itself on his jaws and about the stern, pinched mouth. If he had 
 showed hint of pity, it might have unnerved her ; as it was, she 
 went on slowly and steadily. 
 
 " I not only belonged by birth to the class which you place on a 
 par with your slaves, but I worked with them. I was one of them. 
 I believe in my soul I am one of them now. My heart warms to 
 them more than to those who were not born hungry and ignorant. 
 I was a market-girl until I w^as nine years old. I want you to un 
 derstand the truth. I had a stall on the public street. Whatever 
 there is to see and hear there, which should be kept from children, 
 Jsaw and heard." 
 
 Randolph looked up. She saw in his stunned eyes a dread of 
 worse which remained untold. 
 
 " Rosslyn ? James Strebling told me of a Rosslyn Comly " 
 
 She put out one hand as if to cry for mercy for time. It was a 
 moment before she spoke; when she did, it was under her breath. 
 
 " They called me that. It is not my name ; neither is Burley. I 
 have no right to any name, unless James Strebling had chosen to 
 give his own to his child." 
 
 Garrick Randolph was silent, looking at her ; yet it seemed to 
 him as if horrible, shameful oaths, one after the other, were rushing 
 through his discreet, clean lips, in his dismay and passion. Rosslyn, 
 her work ended, had turned to leave the room. Somehow, the 
 strength and sparkle of her life seemed to have been drawn from 
 her ; her limbs moved flaccid and limp, her eye was lustreless, her 
 very hair dim. She never had been so homely in his eyes, so 
 dependent, or altogether a woman. 
 
 He made one step toward her. He caught her wrists ; he forced 
 her to look up in his eyes. " What is your story to me ? You 
 may have been a market huckster, or James Strebling s daughter 
 to others. I know you as no other human being can do. To me 
 you are the woman I have chosen out of all the world. Your 
 father is nothing to me nothing ! I will only think God made 
 you, arid made you for me. For you love me you love me, Ross 
 lyn?" 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 231 
 
 She raised her pale, amazed face to his. " It is better that I 
 should leave you," dully. " I told all ; I kept nothing back." 
 
 " No woman was ever so true so purely true," with a defiant 
 emphasis, as if he asserted it to the world and himself, as well as 
 her. " You bared your inmost heart, poor child ! You would not 
 have done it if you had not loved me, Rosslyn ! " 
 
 In his heat hitherto, forgetting that he was a Randolph in being 
 a man, he had been almost rough with passion ; but his stately, 
 tender courtesy returned to him. He seated her deferentially. 
 
 " I had no right to think or to say that," he said, his large figure 
 drawn erect between her and the firelight in a proud humility. 
 " It was boorish and unmanly to guess at your feeling until you 
 chose to avow it. But I am only an awkward student, as you 
 know. I am so little used to delicate and tender women. Will 
 you listen to me," in a lower voice, " while I tell you what one 
 woman is to me ? I came here to-night to tell you." 
 
 Now if Ross had been a sensitive woman that is, had been 
 gifted with a morbid, thin-skinned self-consciousness or, if she had 
 possessed a particle of proper pride which some of her more for 
 tunate sisters boast, she would have suspected that Randolph was 
 urged by some chivalric notion of having pledged his honor in this 
 course, though only to himself; she would have doubted, have pal 
 tered, have hung back, to assay the love offered to her; if she mar 
 ried him would have kept this doubt in her heart a favorite skel 
 eton to which to resort when unwilling to accept her fate as com 
 monplace and happy. But she was honest to dullness, Mrs. Ottley 
 said : she never suspected a sham word or unnatural motive in 
 another more than herself. In her heart of hearts she knew and 
 thought herself every whit as pure as Randolph, and was as proud 
 of old Joe Burley s blood as he of the Pages . She had done the 
 one task which it seemed God had set her, and He had helped her 
 with it. Randolph was a truer man than she had known him to 
 be. He knew all, and it mattered nothing to him. He loved her 
 that made it plain and natural to her. 
 
 She did not doubt, therefore, one moment, when he spoke thus, 
 this day dawning for her ; there was a quick rush of blood to her 
 heart, a startled, searching look into his face, then she hid her own 
 in her hands : not James Streb ling s disgraced daughter : on the 
 instant only a shy, pure girl, trembling, happy, waiting to be wooed 
 and won. The swift rose blushes came and went on her face and 
 neck : her bosom heaved : the soft curls trembling in the firelight 
 seemed to wait to be caressed. She thought of how she had prayed 
 for this hour to come, and thankful tears instead of prayers came 
 brimming to her eyes. In short, Ross was downright, honest, inno 
 cent in her love as in everything else : old Joe s spirit being strong 
 within her. 
 
232 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 It did not matter to her that Garrick stumbled and muttered as 
 he told his love : his eloquence thrilled her soul with tender triumph, 
 whether he spoke or was silent ; yet Garrick was at fault with 
 every word : none of the carefully-conned sentences that he had 
 prepared would answer, for he had meant to woo her with a cer 
 tain form and dignity, not ignoring the social level on which they 
 Btood together, but now 
 
 There she was, without a name, a true, beautiful soul looking 
 through a true, beautiful body, giving herself to him. She was 
 that, but she was nothing more. There was neither name _or 
 lineage nor kinsfolk to marry with his wife. That fact shut out to 
 him the world curiously, gave to their compact a strange solemnity 
 and significance. They were a man and woman alone with God. 
 
 Now Ross had always been content to shoulder the circumstances 
 of her life as they were, but ten minutes after Randolph heard 
 them, and while he was telling her his love, he was smothering and 
 clothing them in a mist of poetic fancies. She was one of the 
 orphan little ones of whom the Lord had especial care ; she was 
 Una or Truth who had come to him unstained through the mud 
 and slough : she was the unfathered Undine who had grown up 
 out of the foul, stagnant stream. 
 
 " I have no words to plead my cause, Miss Burley," his tones 
 composed but his blue eyes darkening with his heat ; " but I dare 
 to say that the love I offer you is as untried and fresh as your own. 
 My lips have never touched those of woman. If you will be my 
 wife I will protect and shelter you with the honor and devotion of 
 a man " (checking the word gentleman upon his lips.) " What 
 work rny brain and hands are fit for shall be given to you God 
 helping me." He put out his hand, the white, nervous one with 
 the heirloom ring upon it, and Ross took it. 
 
 Took it and laid her cheek down on it ; then a great silence fell 
 upon them ; a silence in which their old lives faded unreal as a past 
 and foggy night, and in the light and warmth that dawned for 
 them he drew her heart close to his own, and his lips touched hers. 
 The day s trial had been fierce and wearing : now the rest had come 
 for her. Something of the exhaustion and rest were on her face, 
 and lingered there, even when he sat pale, his eyes glittering, hold 
 ing her in his arms, her head at last upon his breast, the golden 
 curls moving in his breath. 
 
 She rose presently, and took down the miniature of his mother, 
 looking at it long and earnestly. It seemed to her as weak as amia 
 ble, for love is in no haste to blind us to faulty facial lines in the 
 countenance s of our lover s mother. 
 
 "It is a sincere, affectionate face," she said, after a moment s hesi 
 tation. " She shall not be disappointed in me. I will be true to 
 her son," 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 233 
 
 But the praise was composed and moderate, and Randolph felt 
 a chill creep over him. It did not Seem fitting to him that James 
 Strebling s illegitimate daughter should look with critical eyes at 
 his dead mother s face. But Ross, he saw, with a, curious irritation, 
 had apparently already forgotten who and what she was. The 
 quiet, simple, hospitable manner which once had seemed so rare 
 in her, struck him with a certain surprise now. There was no trace 
 of humility in it. If he had made any sacrifice in ignoring her 
 story, she at least did not appreciate it. 
 
 True, they were simply man and woman ; equal in God s eyes. 
 And yet 
 
 Rosslyn looked round at him suddenly with a smile unutterably 
 confiding and tender, and Randolph s heart leaped again with full 
 throbs of triumph against his chest. " Rosslyn, Rosslyn ! " he 
 cried, taking her wrists in his hands. The name rang like prophetic 
 music through all of his life to come. The man was born again : 
 and he knew it. His blue eye laughed, his face was ruddy ; he had 
 been used to speculate on honor, on love, on hard work and happi 
 ness, peering out of the dusty recesses of his laboratory, but he 
 never had taken them into his hold before. He was in the thick 
 of life now : the country was no longer a map filled with air-lines, 
 but his feet were in the sod of it, its sun was hot, its wind cold. 
 
 He drew her to a seat again, wanting to tell her this ; he thought 
 he did tell her ; but the truth was, he only muttered two or three 
 broken interjections : holding the moist pink-palmed hands close, 
 looking in her eyes. The touch of her hand, her proud merry face, 
 her breath that rose and fell, the very crisp rustle of her dress filled 
 him with a delirium that was like a fine rapturous music. 
 
 Ross roused him from it. " Will you come and see my grand 
 father ? " she said. 
 
 Garrick gave a half-conscious assent. Before they had reached 
 the foot of the stairs, however, he was quite himself again : he was 
 a Randolph, who had affianced himself to the member of another 
 family, and was about to have an interview with the head of it. 
 As to the manner of man the said head would be, he thought of it " 
 with a shudder. But he was grave, courteous, smiling, as of old. 
 
 Ross ran lightly before him and tapped softly at the chamber- . 
 door, fearing the old man was asleep. But there was a bright light 
 in the room, and Joe was sitting up on his bed, a pile of pillows 
 behind him, his white hair pushed back, his keen black eyes turned 
 on the door. When her face appeared at it, he beckoned her with 
 both hands. 
 
 " I did not know you were awake," said Ross, remorsefully, 
 stooping so that he could not see the shy blushes and smiles on her j, 
 face. But the old man lifted her head, inspecting her with no smile 
 iu his haggard, eager eyes. 
 
234 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " I hecrd him come. Is it all well with my little gal ? " He did 
 not need an answer. He held the childish face upturned with Irs 
 hand, touching the closed eyes, the crimson, dewy lips, the dimpled 
 chin, softly with his stubby finger; a slow, quiet, tender smilo 
 creeping over his face. 
 
 " Well, well ! So there s somethin come into my little Rossline s 
 life as 11 never go out ! The Good Man hes give to her the best 
 He had to give." He covered his eyes with one bony hand and lay 
 silent, regardless of Randolph, whom Rosslyn had beckoned to her 
 side. The " young fellow " was simply the means by which his 
 granddaughter s life had been made fuller and happier; and Ran 
 dolph perceived that. 
 
 However, he looked up presently, and Garrick bent his large 
 figure respectfully. The old man s face with its frame of white 
 hair and beard turned on him with a stern, keen scrutiny, might 
 have been that of the patriarch Israel, he thought, so true to the 
 truth was it. 
 
 " This is Mr. Randolph, is it ? " said Joe, looking at him steadily, 
 some moments before he held out his hard hand. Then he offered 
 it to him. Still with his half closed eyes sounding the meaning of 
 Garrick s. "Them was genooine words, sir, in your letter about 
 my little gal ; an I see the same natur lookin through yer face. 
 But it s ontried ontried, I judge ? " 
 
 Randolph hesitated. "I have lived a secluded and untempted 
 life, it is true." If there was any resentment in his mind, it was 
 not apparent in his tone. 
 
 " The wrastle comes to us all sooner or later," said Joe. " I hope 
 for my little gal s sake you ll come through it as strong and truth 
 ful as you pear to me now. She ll help you. She lives mighty 
 close to her Master Rossline. You ll forgive me," with a change 
 of tone, " for them comments on you but somethin in yer face 
 drawed it out suddent-like ; an I m naterally anxious about the 
 man to whom I must give the keer of my granddarter." 
 
 " Naturally," said Randolph, with a chagrin he could not hide. 
 
 But Burley took no further heed of him ; he was watching Rosa- 
 lyn with a fond, amused light in his eyes, patting her hand softly 
 on the quilt. "I allays said my little gal was born in the light of 
 the moon," he said, glancing significantly up at Garrick; "but it s 
 sunshine that s about her now, I think." 
 
 There was a tap at the door a moment after, and Friend Blanch- 
 ard entered : her step unusually placid, her face grave, but there 
 was a hard light in her luminous black eyes, Randolph fancied, as 
 she fixed them on himself. 
 
 " Thee has succeeded in winning our Rosslyn ? " with a forced 
 smile, holding out her hand. " It will be a long time before thee 
 knows the value of thy prize, Garrick," passing him as soon as 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 235 
 
 courtesy permitted to Ross, and catching both her hands with an 
 eager fierceness and a something wliich, in any other woman, would 
 have been a sob. 
 
 Burley turned, with a quick apology in his look. " You have 
 carried consternation into our little camp, Mr. Randolph. S foi 
 me, ther wur many years when Rossline had no one but her 
 grandad : an it s not so easy fur me to understand ther s another 
 to sheer in her thoughts and mind." 
 
 Randolph sat down beside the bed. He felt that, in spite of all 
 effort, he was silent and boorish ; it was the old wagoner who talked 
 easily and cordially, trying to clear the atmosphere about them. 
 Ross, a little dull of perception in her happiness, and Friend Blanch- 
 ard, secretly at odds with fate, were silent. It was of Rosslyn, 
 Joe talked, never alluding to the change or new home coming to 
 her. 
 
 " Young people don t like the kindest finger laid on their little 
 secrets," he said sagaciously to Friend Blanchard afterward. 
 
 When Randolph rose to leave him, too, the old man, with his 
 usual tact, repressed the eager blessing on his lips on Rosslyn and 
 the man whose fate was to be one with hers. 
 
 " I m glad to have known you, Mr. Randolph. I m glad this 
 wound of mine druv me home at this time. I think I should have 
 been glad to know you ef you d been no kin in yer heart to Ross- 
 line here." 
 
 When Garrick Randolph rode away that night, the keen delight 
 of his new life possessed him for the first mile or two. Rosslyn s 
 presence was in the moonlight, in the balmy air. Then he began 
 to recall his welcome into her family; Friend Blanchard s toler 
 ance, Burley s two-edged criticism. 
 
 " Untried ? untried ? " The words had a sting of truth in them 
 that rankled. His sainted mother, his Aunt Laura, his father, who 
 was the soul of honor, had never warned him that his virtue would 
 rate low, being untested. Again, nothing could be more welcome 
 to him as a lover than the loyalty to Ross of those who knew her 
 best. As a woman, she was incomparably beyond his level; but, 
 no one had remembered that she was of birth and breeding differ 
 ent from his own or, rather, no one remembered that he had for 
 gotten it. As for Burley, Garrick had magnanimously turned his 
 back to the private s blue uniform hanging on the wall, shut his 
 ears to the vulgar patois. He thought he deserved a little credit 
 for this, but nobody had perceived it. " A man s a man for a that " 
 he had soothed himself again and again by saying inwardly while in 
 the chamber. But he struck the spurs now into his horse angrily. 
 
 " One would have thought the Randolph was the plebeian, and 
 the market-girl of gentle blood ! " he said, more restive, as he rode 
 further from Ross and the invisible, loving hands which she 
 stretched after him. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE KING S SONS. 
 
 I THOUGHT you d welcome the news hearty-like, Doctor 
 Broderip; we hevn t mentioned the matter among strangers, 
 but Rossline wur always a favorite of yours, and you ve showed par- 
 shality for Mr. Randolph here, so I thought you d wish them well 
 when you heerd they d undertook to weather the storm together." 
 
 " I do wish them well ; " and Broderip, without looking up from 
 Joe s wound, which he was examining, smiled politely, while some 
 glib, well-turned congratulation to Randolph slipped off of his 
 tongue. 
 
 The old man looked grave as if a dash of cold water had struck 
 him, but Garrick, who was pacing up and down the room, smiled 
 complacently, and answered cordially. He had blushed, a little an 
 noyed, when Burley had brought so momentous a secret as his mar 
 riage before a stranger; but on the instant he recalled the favor 
 which this stranger had done him ; and besides there was some 
 thing in the little surgeon which even to Randolph s dull instincts 
 made it seemly and natural to confide personal matters to him. 
 "He has no solid matter-of-fact opinions like other men," Randolph 
 had dogmatized to Rosslyn. "Never talks of politics or finance. 
 He has only his profession, and outsi de of that he is a woman." 
 Which verdict Ross received as novel and decisive, as she did all of 
 his opinions, though probably she might have arrived at the same 
 conclusions herself a dozen times before. 
 
 Joe s wound had been tardy in healing ; the bandages were not 
 yet removed. The surgeon adjusted them more slowly than usual, 
 Burley fancied, to-day, after he had heard of Randolph s intended 
 marriage, remaining silent, his small pale face compressed as he bent 
 over the bed. A soft Spring air came in at the open windows, 
 bringing the scent from the apple-orchards and the meadows, blue 
 with wild violets, sloping from the farm-house to the creek below. 
 The sunshine rested on it, broad and warm, the rustle of the trees 
 outside, the hesitating gurgle of the creek over its slaty bed, the 
 chatter of the martins in the eaves, the bleat of the calves in the 
 barn-yard, old Matsy s crooning as she sat knitting on the kitchen 
 door-step, brought the pleasant out-door Spring morning into Joe s 
 cheerful chamber. He watched the shadow of the waving curtains 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 237 
 
 on the white wall and then glanced at Broderip, trying to smother 
 his chagrin at his indifference to Rosslyn s wedding, thinking that 
 " it wur nateral when a man keered nothin for wife or children for 
 himself, that them things should seem triflin for- others." 
 
 Broderip himself, however, resumed the subject, looking up ab 
 ruptly at Randolph, who, in the course of his walk, passed the bed. 
 " The marriage will take place soon ? " 
 
 " In a week yes. If life is a storm, as our friend here says, the 
 sooner we make it fair weather for each other the better. And 
 there are no obstacles in our way." 
 
 "No, there are no obstacles in your way," absently, bending to 
 his work again. 
 
 " My hands," said Randolph, in a full, mellow voice, " thanks to 
 you, Doctor, have fitting work laid out for them. I must make a 
 flying visit to Kentucky immediately after my marriage, to look 
 after my old home, and then begins a long, easy journey," his blue 
 eye lighting. " But I must go look after my inheritance." 
 
 " Yes," said Broderip slowly, as he lapped the bandage. " You 
 are a fortunate man," looking up at Randolph, who stood between 
 him and the window, the cheerful sunlight smiling on his broad, 
 stalwart figure and hopeful face, bringing out ruddy tints in his 
 brown hair and beard. "You have a wife; you have work; you 
 have an inheritance in which your family have been rooted and 
 honored for generations. You are a fortunate man." 
 
 Randolph bowed with a bewildered smile ; there was something 
 in the sharp, vehement tone of the little gray-coated man which he 
 could not understand. " Coming up the river," he said, in his 
 prosy, dreamy way, "I used to think of Rosslyn as some princess 
 in the Arabian Nights, and wonder who would be the hero that 
 would some day disenchant her, or rather waken her into real life, 
 where the enchantment rises out of our own souls, from that part of 
 God or Love which is within us. I did not think that I " he 
 stopped, looking down through the stirless warm air at the far pink 
 vail of peach blossoms over the hill slopes, a quiet smile sleeping on 
 his face, a womanish color in his cheeks. 
 
 The surgeon s voice rasped through the silence. 
 
 " Curious old myths those of the Arabs ; but false to nature 
 false to nature ! No wonder that we dote on them in childhood. 
 The king has always two sons, and to one falls the princess and the 
 triumphs ; the people shout for him ; the kingdom is his in the end ; 
 while the other, whom the good God made the same in the begin~ 
 ning, is driven out, for no fault of his own, with stones and hoot- 
 ings ; and that is all : the story ends there. There is no alleviation, 
 no redress, afterward. Some crack-brained old star-gazer invented 
 the tales, doubtless. As if they could have a parallel in real life ! " 
 
 " Assuredly not," said Randolph, sententiously. " Men reap only 
 
238 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 the harvest they have sown in the world, is my theory. Even in 
 this life, God is just. 
 
 " And yet," pausing with one end of the linen strip in his hand, 
 " so fortunate a man are you that I should be tempted to call you 
 the heir of the king s legitimate sons." Broderip bowed as he spoke 
 with a smile ; but Burley winced at the moment, wondering at the 
 contrast between the pleasant, soft, hazel eyes above him, and the 
 steely, vice-like clench of the thin fingers on his own flesh. 
 
 " I have not been without my trials," said Randolph dryly, 
 thinking it was time to put an end to this intrusion into his af 
 fairs. 
 
 But Joe s shrewd black eye had been noting certain lines about 
 the surgeon s set, colorless jaws, and the sharp, irregular respira 
 tions of the narrow chest bent over him ; remembering, too slowly, 
 that the man had never married. It might be that he had met with 
 "a disappintment " in his youth. " What s the vally of them out 
 side things ? Taint married life as makes a mean fellar a man," he 
 lumbered out, " no more n money, nor family. Ther s them as gives 
 the strength and love that wife and children would take, to the 
 help of their fellow-men. T seems to me, they re the fav rites of 
 the Good Man, though sometimes they don t know Him, owin to 
 circumstances." 
 
 " I have no faith in a man giving up his life to humanity. The 
 philanthropists I have known," said Randolph, hastily, " were often 
 cold-blooded and selfish. Now, look at your Radicals, your Aboli 
 tionists. It is the abstract idea of freedom they care for, not the 
 black man. On the contrary, there is a personal antipathy to the 
 negro in the North, which does not exist with us." 
 
 Broderip s cool eye followed his skilful fingers in their swift 
 movements ; he nodded, but made no reply, the conversation ap 
 parently having lost its interest to him. 
 
 But Randolph continued to turn his idea inside out, according to 
 his custom. " Why, your blatant freedom-shriekers have no idea 
 of the close and patriarchal relation subsisting between a master 
 and his slaves. My own journey to Kentucky is partly to attend 
 to the comfort of an old servant whom I have just heard is dying. 
 To attend to his comfort, and to question him with regard to some 
 family secrets of which he holds the key." For the story of the 
 will began, like a festering spot in Garrick s mind, to thrust itself 
 into notice in every unsuitable time and place. With Rosslyn and 
 the Quakeress he talked of it incessantly : to others he dimly hinted 
 it, as now. Doctor Broderip s hands paused : he half turned his 
 head, attentive. 
 
 "An old slave?" 
 
 " Yes. My father s body-servant." 
 
 "Valuable, no doubt?" 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 239 
 
 " It is not the money value that I should regret in his death," 
 flushing ; " though, when negroes commanded a fair price, this man 
 would have brought me in two thousand dollars. But he was worn 
 out long ago." 
 
 The little surgeon s hands still held the ligature suspended mo 
 tionless : Joe fancied that discolored blotches settled about his 
 sharp-set mouth and jaws as he turned his face toward Randolph 
 courteously : he fancied, too, that the unequal respirations in Lis 
 bony chest were inaudible now, altogether. 
 
 " A high price for a man of advanced age," in his shrill, unpleas 
 ant voice. "He probably had some merit not usually thrown into 
 the market ; a mechanical skill, for example ? " 
 
 Randolph opened his calm, blue eyes with a polite surprise at 
 this curious interest in one of his hands. "You have made a sin 
 gularly correct guess," he replied. " The man is a dexterous work 
 man, a locksmith was, I should say, for my aunt writes to me that 
 he has but a short time to live. He is most anxious to see me be 
 fore he dies." 
 
 "What is this man s name? Who would have been worth to 
 you, if you had sold at the proper time, two thousand dollars ? " 
 
 " I never traded in flesh and blood," said Garrick, with dignity. 
 " The negro s name is Hugh." 
 
 Joe Burley uttered a groan. " Have a keer, Doctor ! have a 
 keer ! " For Broderip, intent on his conversation with Randolph, 
 had wrenched the wound half open with a sudden turn. He bent 
 close over it now, concealing his face as he repaired the injury, 
 gnawing his under lip as a man does who is angry at himself. Some 
 time elapsed before he had finished ; his fingers moved irresolutely 
 and slow. Meanwhile the silence remained unbroken ; Randolph 
 standing by the window, chafed and irritable, he scarcely knew 
 why. When he had done, the surgeon stood up, wiping his clammy 
 brow with his handkerchief. 
 
 " I did not mean to wound you, Mr. Burley," he said, gently. " I 
 am an awkward butcher, after all," shaking hands with him. He 
 stood by the bed while he carefully drew on his gloves and but 
 toned his coat; then, taking up his hat and cane, he stopped before 
 the young slaveholder, leisurely surveying him with his light, be 
 wildering eyes. 
 
 " Bon voyage, Mr. Randolph. Not to Kentucky but to the 
 end." 
 
 Randolph felt the generous blood burn in his face with shame for 
 his momentary pettishness. " And for yourself, Doctor Broderip ? 
 We have been temporary comrades. It is probable that the stream 
 will run alike for both, and the end be the same." 
 
 He held out his hand cordially, but Broderip, looking beyond 
 him, into the meadow, apparently, did not see it. He said, however, 
 
240 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 with his usual slow, perplexing smile, " A wife, and an honorable 
 inheritance, and a father " 
 
 " My father is dead," hastily. 
 
 " Dead. He died, doubtless, full of years and honor ; you held 
 his head on your shoulder at the last. Dead ; but you will tell 
 your children with pride what he was. You will have children. 
 You are a fortunate man, Mr. Randolph. But that other king s son 
 who, for no fault of his own, was driven out and trodden under foot 
 of the rabble, and died on a dunghill bah, what damnable fools 
 those old fable-mongers were ! As if such things could be ! " 
 
 He passed him going out with his usual long, quick strides, while 
 Garrick looked after him with dismay. 
 
 " That man s eccentricity passes reason," he said, turning sharply 
 on Burley. " There is the flash of insanity in his eye." 
 
 Joe rolled his head uneasily on the pillow once or twice, and 
 crossed his arms over it before replying. 
 
 " Insane, eh? No, he s as sane as you nor me. But," he added 
 silently to himself, " there s more in that little fellar than ever your 
 insight ll discover, please God." 
 
 Joe was quiet that evening ; talked but little when they gathered 
 as usual in his chamber, some anxious trouble seeming to lie dor 
 mant in his small, black eye. He gave it no expression, however, 
 but once, when Rosslyn stooped over him to say good night. 
 Catching a handful of her soft hair he pulled it gently again and 
 again through his fingers.. 
 
 " You re a lucky child, Rossline. I seen that in your face when 
 you wur a whimpering baby. Though you think you ve had your 
 cross to carry ; no doubt no doubt ! It s feather light, gal. I 
 tell you, ther s men I know that s bin goin through life bound 
 hand and foot with chains that were none of their makin . Circum 
 stances, like." 
 
 " I consider such views morbid. A man may conquer any cir 
 cumstances," said Randolph, dogmatically. 
 
 "I doubt that, lad; I doubt. The best we can do sometimes is 
 jest to kerry our load. As for bein morbid, it s easy for a man to 
 hev a healthy brain thet s had a chance at the best things in life, 
 and good blood and an active workin liver and digestion to back 
 him. But he ken t shut our eyes by cryin morbid to the fact 
 that ther s other men under the same roof, maybe, whose chance 
 wur shet off before they wur born, that they re lit rally here besi<Je 
 us, like them the old church prayer talks of, * sittin in darkness, 
 bound in affliction, and in iron ! " 
 
 "I presume you mean," said Garrick, with a puzzled look, "those 
 on whom rests some stigma of disgrace from the crimes of their 
 forefathers. Those are among the laws of society which I consider 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 241 
 
 just and unalterable. We have scripture warranty for them, c Unto 
 the third and fourth generation " 
 
 " But what if the disgrace is ther without the crime ? " 
 
 " I know of no such cases," dryly. 
 
 " No. And it s not likely, Mr. Randolph, that your eyes will 
 ever see them," said Burley, stroking Ross hand with a quiet 
 smile. 
 
 The next day he asked Garrick particularly about the old negro 
 who was said to be dying. " He hed wife and children, likely ? " 
 
 " His wife," Randolph said, carelessly, " belonged to the Streb- 
 lings. There were two sons, I believe. One is living now, the 
 other was sold or died in the North, I think I have heard James 
 Strebling say." 
 
 " So the poor fellar is alone ? " 
 
 " He will be well cared for. And filial or paternal affection is 
 not likely to be very strong after an absence of a quarter of a cen 
 tury." 
 
 " True; I did not think of that." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE HOUSE BUILT UPON THE SAND. 
 
 ROSSLYN S wedding-day. Old Joe had decided the time and place 
 for the ordinance, as Randolph termed it, in a few words. 
 
 " Ther s no church as sacred to an innocent young gal as the 
 home where God and her friends has lied her in keer. Let Ross- 
 line be married at home, and in the mornin . She belongs to the 
 daylight. It wouldn t be seemly to hev gas-lights and false flowers 
 and, sham friends about Sweetheart." 
 
 Garrick had assented with a covert smile at the old man s absurd 
 fancy. But he thought it most prudent that the ceremony should 
 pass over without ostentation of any kind. If there was an evening 
 crowd and Friend Blahchard s acquaintances came (among whom 
 he was convinced his future wife had been admitted on sufferance), 
 he knew the surmises that would be made and the questions asked. 
 He could guess the politely vailed wonder in Mrs. Ottley s eyes and 
 those of her set, to see a Randolph marry the base-born grandchild 
 of a laborer! He knew he was doing an heroic tiling, but he had 
 no appetite for applause. On the contrary, he assured himself 
 fiercely that he could live outside of the circle that called itself 
 well-born ; could give scorn for scorn. It angered him to see the 
 unconscious good humor with which Ross met them. In writing to 
 Aunt Laura Page, too, to announce his marriage he used, without 
 16 
 
242 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 knowing it, a half-defiant tone. Ross wrote a line at the end of 
 the letter. It was her own doing. " She has been like a mother to 
 you, you said ? " taking up the pen. Randolph, uncertain whether 
 the proceeding were conventional or not, looked on with his brows 
 knit, drumming with his fingers on his chin. Rosslyn s cheeks grew 
 red, and her lips quivered as she wrote, though the words as Gar- 
 rick read them were to him simple and ordinary enough. 
 
 But they brought the tears into the old lady s eyes ; and when 
 she sat down with her stately, agitated flutter to answer the letter, 
 it was to Ross she wrote rather than Garrick. The earnest little 
 message had somehow brought back the days when she herself was 
 looking forward to being a wife, and afterward a mother; and the 
 stooped old breast in which the milk had dried half a century ago, 
 yearned over the girl as though she had been that one child that 
 was nursed there once, and after a few months lay dead upon it. 
 
 But as the days passed slowly toward the wedding morning, 
 Garrick grew conscious of a great stillness a Sabbath pause creep 
 ing over his heart, as though husk after husk of surface fancies and 
 emotions fell off, and the truth beneath the vital pulse of all tears 
 and laughter lay bare under this May sunshine and wind. He 
 thought that he could read the same thought in Joe Burley s and 
 Rosslyn s sincere eyes. He began to doubt if birth or education im 
 ported anything, provided Then he forgot to doubt, even. They 
 were very quiet in those days ; talked in monosyllables, laughed 
 but little. Whatever was most womanish in Randolph s nature 
 came slowly to the light. He hung about the house perpetually; 
 noted with keen pleasure the zealous efforts of Matsy and old John 
 to make the wedding breakfast worthy of Ross ; fingered her few 
 new dresses, more delighted even with their sheen or softness than 
 she. When he could not follow her about, he loitered in the sunny 
 little dining-room or in the garden, smoking, stroking his whiskers. 
 The lilac bushes, the yellow daffodils, the horned columbine flowers 
 of dusky red hanging over the low stone wall seemed to him 
 strangely akin to the flowers of his childhood; sounds, scents, 
 snatches of tunes he had whistled when a boy began to come back 
 unsummoned to him. The world outside by day, the dusty Wash 
 ington streets, or the hot opera at night, where Mrs. Ottley and her 
 clique pored over the libretto, grew unreal, incredible to him. It 
 was as if he and Ross were two children going hand in hand into 
 a new country : the days, the meals he ate, were as unlike to or 
 dinary days and meals as the manna which God gave fresh every 
 morning to the Israelites was to bought bread. 
 
 The Sunday before the day of their marriage he took Ross to a 
 little country church, and side by side they knelt and received the 
 holy communion. They did not speak to each other as they went 
 home ; it seemed to Garrick that in God s eyes they were married 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 243 
 
 then ; and it seemed to him, too, as~ if the Christ that died on Cal 
 vary came no nearer to him through the sacred bread and wine 
 than through the woman s hand laid on his arm. He had been a 
 " professor " since he was a boy, but to-day his hand was on the 
 door that opened into truth ; and let what crime or shame follow 
 that would, when his day of trial came he would never lose alto 
 gether his hold. With his usual leaky habit, he diluted all his feel 
 ings into words, and confided them to Ross. 
 
 The wedding morning came. 
 
 Afterward, he remembered how unlike all other brides she was 
 unlike her old self curiously divested of all ornament and of all 
 the commonplace symbols. Now Garrick, when dressing in the 
 murky dawn, had lingered over collar, cravat and gloves with boy 
 ish anxiety. She was so peerless he would fain do her honor in 
 even this trifle. Then he smiled at his pale distorted face in the 
 mirror, chaffing himself with a hackneyed bit of college Latin, 
 which died on his lips and ended in a prayer as much to the poor 
 fellow s dead mother as to God. Then he rode out to the farm 
 house. 
 
 Old Joe, Friend Blanchard, and Ross old pastor were in the lit 
 tle parlor. The early morning air coming through the open win 
 dow stirred the faint escaping fragrance of the wild flowers that 
 filled the room a fragrance which seemed to him the very breath 
 of Nature, of the wet rose-color and gray of the sky, of the dewy 
 fields, of the woman who was Nature s child. Yet, in spite of 
 this fancy, he had a startled sense of disappointment when she 
 entered, to find that she did not wear the Randolph diamonds 
 that Aunt Laura had sent her, and that her dress was not the con 
 ventional white, but the tender sincere blue, which she always 
 wore. It floated like a morning mist about her delicate, stately 
 limbs ; in her hair there were only starry white blossoms with a 
 flush at their heart, which old Joe had gathered from the peach 
 tree. 
 
 At least, she had the will to wear her mother Nature s own or 
 naments and no other. But when he held the firm light fingers in 
 his he saw only the story told in her pale, passionate cheek, and the 
 promise in her quiet brown eyes. 
 
 While the wholesome cool wind blew into the room, and the 
 clear May daylight fell about them they were married. Omens of 
 wind and daylight mattered nothing to Friend Blanchard. She 
 " had seen many a tree planted on a fair day with canker at its 
 roots." There was the gall of bitterness in her heart as she looked 
 at Randolph while the few words were spoken ; but the wily old 
 courtier greeted him the next moment with a beaming eye and 
 eager shake of the hand for Ross sake. 
 
 As for Randolph, her gall or her suavity were alike indifferent 
 
244 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 to him. He had mounted the highest peak of life, and all below 
 was warmth and light. He leaned against the window ledge, his 
 fingers playing complacently with his ruddy brown beard, as old 
 Joe drew his grandchild up before him, and, with his hands on her 
 shoulders, looked down into her face. They were both reticent 
 people. Garrick could not tell what meaning in their eyes took 
 the place of words ; every feeling or fancy of his own during the 
 past three months had been dribbled out to Rosslyn. But of her s 
 he knew nothing ; it never had occurred to him, in fact, that she 
 might have any. 
 
 She was his : that was all he cared to know. 
 
 Joe smiled at last, as he kissed her cheeks and mouth in his old 
 fashion. " Nothin hes oome between you and me, Sweetheart," 
 he said. "As for what I hope fur you two, Mr. Randolph," rais 
 ing his voice, cheerfully, "Rossline knows; an Him that has you 
 in keer. I think the day will be sunshiny I think fur sartain it 
 will," slowly. 
 
 " To breakfast ! to breakfast ! " cried Friend Blanchard. 
 
 The play was done, and the curtain dropped. 
 
 Randolph sat down beside his wife with some such book-notion of 
 marriage in his brain. The experimental time for passion, essay, 
 groping with him was over ; he was nearing middle-age ; he had 
 gone through the heats and chills of perilous youth, thwarted the 
 difficulties, single-handed ; Rosslyn, hardly won and beautiful, was 
 beside him; he held the reins of life easily in his hand; he was 
 already to himself the good citizen, the just master, the husband 
 whose tenderness should never recall to his wife the gulf that he 
 had passed to reach her. So let the curtain fall ! 
 
 Joe, with his dogged devotion to Ross, and Friend Blanchard, 
 with both money and subtle instinct as tools for her affection, hav 
 ing determined that the day should be the crown and flower of the 
 girl s life, it passed for her filled with sunshine and perfume. They 
 kept for her the delicious sense of solitude with Randolph, on the 
 verge of the new world through which they were to journey hand 
 in hand. But Ross had countless true lovers, and their calls of 
 good- will after her meant much to the woman whose every step 
 through life had been conquered. There were letters, messages, 
 gifts : from Mr. Ottley s yellow Miiller before letters, and his wife s 
 massive epergne, to a cheap nosegay of white road flowers. Ross 
 received them all ajike, cordially, and, strange to say, Randolph, 
 from the messages that came with them, gained a clearer idea of 
 his wife s personality than he had yet done. The little artist, with 
 her rare beauty, her do w Brightness, her simple manner, which placed 
 her on a level with any genus of nobility, occupied a place among 
 these people, he saw, which mere good birth could never give. They 
 called her little clever tricks with her pencil in drawing, genius ; 
 they would have made a notability of her, if they could. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 245 
 
 "The flowers have a curiously -unpleasant odor," said Friend 
 Blanchard, picking up the bunch of white blossoms during the day, 
 from the table. 
 
 " They came from SchefFer s boy, who is a man now, with boys 
 of his own," said Ross. " He left them at the back door, himself, 
 this morning. He walked one or two miles to bring them." 
 
 " Faugh ! " said Randolph, taking them up to throw out of the 
 window, but Ross rescued them with a smile. 
 
 " I give up no old friends when new ones come in," she said calmly ; ^ 
 the common little bouquet had a meaning for her which he did not 
 know. He did not even know what meaning the day had for her. 
 Inside of the cordial laugh, the affectionate, helpful look, Ross 
 brown eyes kept their own secret. When evening came, she was 
 passing through the narrow hall into the garden, where Randolph 
 waited for her ; the air was chilly, and she stopped to wrap a white 
 shawl about her, when her grandfather s voice, with Friend Blanch- 
 ard s, in the adjoining room, caught her ear, and she turned to go in. 
 She meant to tell them that no little surprise or pleasure which they 
 had crowded into the day ha d been unseen by her. It had been, 
 as they purposed, the very essence and prophecy of a quiet, full, 
 home life. Perhaps they thought her heedless of it in her new happi 
 ness heedless of them ? She was pushing open the door, when she 
 stopped, irresolute, a startled flash of terror in her eyes. Friend 
 Blanchard was speaking. 
 
 "Untried, I grant you," said Joe, interrupting her; "I seen that 
 from the first. But love is a safeguard. Beside principle." 
 
 " There can be no true marriage when there is such antagonism of 
 character and creeds. It is the house founded upon the sand upon 
 the sand," Friend Blanchard exclaimed. " I should have interfered 
 at the first ! " The old lady s hands chafed together as they lay 
 crossed on her lap, and her chin quivered and shook. 
 
 " You thought him honorable, and worthy of my gal once." 
 
 " I have been studying him thoroughly since then," with a deci 
 sive nod. " The Randolphs are indolent, selfish, chivalric to their 
 equals, cruel to those beneath them. It is the legitimate outgrowth 
 of the Southern creed. Weak, dull, with a slaveholder s con 
 science " 
 
 Rosslyn s hand dropped from the doorhandle ; she went on me 
 chanically to the porch, stopping there in the light of the setting , 
 sun. At the far end of the pebble path her husband was standing 
 idly picking off bits of gray lichen from the stone wall. She looked 
 at him for the first time in her life, coolly, critically, apart from all 
 glamour of love ; the unending journey through life and into death 
 which they had undertaken to-day opening before her. 
 
 " Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, " muttered Ross with 
 colorless lips, her eyes upon him. 
 
246 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The anatomist, under the mellow tints and lithe motions of the 
 human body, sees the loathsome details within, which may never 
 come to light, but which are there, enduring as life ; Rosslyn, with 
 the light of Friend Blanchard s words saw another man slowly 
 ev r olve under her hero ; the man as others saw him. 
 
 It was a noteworthy, handsome man that leaned against the wall, 
 dressed with a finical care; inertness and sloth were in every slow 
 motion and lounging limb of the bulky figure, incertitude of pur 
 pose in the unsteady mouth, obstinate narrow forehead and gen 
 tle blue eyes. She remembered that he was dull to comprehend the 
 feelings or prejudices of others, irritably quick to recall his own; 
 that .it was true there were harsh discords in his voice, and that they 
 only were used to his inferiors. 
 
 " Cruel ? " 
 
 Her eyes read steadily the lines about the thin, un sensuous mouth ; 
 then they turned to the sky beyond, steadier, more resolute than 
 before, holding their secret more firmly. Ross had gone far into her 
 married life in that brief moment of insight. She had looked through 
 the mystical angle, which, once in life, according to the old super 
 stition, is held before the eyes of every man and woman, and beyond 
 which lies the second sight. 
 
 But what she saw there, whether weakness or crime, she told to 
 none, not even the Master whose face she sought in that quick 
 glance upward. 
 
 Randolph seeing her in her white drapery, through the red even 
 ing light, made a step forward, and called to her with a passionate 
 gesture of welcome. She waited one moment folding her arms across 
 her breast. It was as if she ha 1 looked down into her own heart, 
 and had seen its possibilities for temptation and for fall ; yet not for 
 herself would this heat have kindled her eyes, or the unutterable 
 tenderness have throbbed in her full veins. 
 
 " I know him for another man than they know him a nobler, 
 better one," she said. 
 
 It seemed to her that He who looked into the hearts of Judas and 
 Magdalen alike, with clear, loving eyes, came between her, with her 
 shameful past, and this man, with his unknown future, and laid His 
 hand on each. 
 
 Gathering her shawl about her, Ross went down the path to meet 
 her husband with a quiet step and a light in her face which was 
 new to Garrick s eyes. He drew her down on the seat of the little 
 summer house, about which the vines were thrusting out their apple- 
 green leaves and red buds, and, stooping closer, looked anxiously 
 into her face. 
 
 "What is it, Rosslyn?" 
 
 " I was thinking of a house against which the winds beat and 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 247 
 
 rains fell, but which fell not, for it was founded upon a rock, and I 
 thought of our married life, Garriak." 
 
 He touched his lipg to hers with an uneasy smile, while a 
 startled doubt filled his mind for the first time, if all that had 
 gone before were not but the prologue, and that only now had 
 the curtain risen and the play begun. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE HONOR OF THE RANDOLPHS. 
 
 AUNT LAUKA PAGE thrust Randolph into a worn, leather chair 
 beside the fire : his father s chair, he saw with a shiver, that grew 
 out of the excitement of his home-coming. The old lady kept her 
 hands on his shoulders, her thin little frame shaking with tears and 
 hysteric laughs. The rich silk had given place to a plain woolen 
 gown, but the diamonds still sparkled in her ears and on the 
 wrinkled hands ; her eyes had a hard, goaded look, and her face 
 was pinched and bitter. 
 
 " We have had hard work here, Garrick," whimpering. " But no 
 matter; tell me about your wife. You left her the week after you 
 were married ? To come to me? That was kind." 
 
 " I had another reason for coming," said honest Garrick. " There 
 were too many dangers in the way to bring Rosslyn," blushing 
 boyishly as he named her. "Eh! Viny? and Cole? Where are 
 you all?" going to the door, as a crowd of black faces appeared in 
 the hall, shaking hands on one side and the other, with a hearty 
 glow in his face, remembering how different was this cordial patri 
 archal relation between himself and the negroes to the servile hired 
 labor of the North. 
 
 When his supper was brought to him and he sat eating it, Aunt 
 Laura, with a woman s keenness in minutia3, took note of a change 
 that had come to him. Plis features were compacted, his eye as 
 sured ; his voice had a clear, decisive ring in it ; his step was 
 heavier, his sentences smacked of everyday life, not books. " He 
 has been among Radicals," she determined. " No doubt he is 
 tainted with infidel notions." 
 
 When they were alone, she filled up the evening with the family 
 history since he had been gone. The Pages and Randolphs had 
 suffered innumerable losses in the war ; the young men were all on 
 the Confederate side. She had the record of each ready for him. 
 The instinct of the clansman was strong in Garrick. Listening, 
 the little wife he had married in the Jersey farm-house, with her 
 queer surroundings of Abolitionists and laborers, began to fade iu 
 spite of him into the background. Not less dear, but more unreal 
 
248 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The patois Aunt Laura used, the names, every one of which re 
 called some train of association rooted in his boyhood, her opinions, 
 the creed on which they were founded these were his native lan 
 guage, after all. It was the Nile oarsman coming safely back into 
 the warm, narrow rim of his boat, to his droning sing-song, to 
 his eternal Alia il Alia, after a plunge into the cold and doubting 
 North air. The new ideas which he had caught from Ross and her 
 friends were true, perhaps, but they were raw and unaired to him. 
 There was an indescribable sense of content and actuality as he sat 
 with his hands on his knees, lending an attentive ear to Aunt Laura s 
 stories as to old, well-known songs, in settling down into the nar 
 row, warmed, familiar limits of thought and belief. 
 
 There was so much in Ross antecedents to conceal, that he avoid 
 ed her name as dexterously as he could ; and, despite the old lady s 
 kindly feeling toward her, the burning of " sister Lucy s house on 
 the James," or the escape of " George Page s negroes," were natu 
 rally more interesting than a woman whom she had never seen ; so 
 it came to pass that Rosslyn (who was, just then, sitting sewing by 
 her chamber lamp, her few ideas centred into one, blushing and 
 smiling to think how Garrick doubtless was describing her to-night 
 to her new kinsfolk) was suffered to glide unmentioned into the 
 background, a beautiful visionary figure to whom this air was alien. 
 But Pages and Randolphs here in this old clan house of the family 
 were solid, corporeal, and at home. More than any of them, the 
 image of his father. 
 
 Sitting in the chair which always gave to him the sense of heir- 
 ship, with the consciousness full upon him that he had come back 
 to right some vague wrong to his father s memory, Garrick looked 
 up again and again at the shrewd, benevolent face above the man 
 tel-shelf, feeling it grow more alive with eftch moment, and come 
 with the force of actual presence into his daily life ; for the man 
 from whose being he had sprung held yet a deeper hold on the real 
 sources of his nature than his bride of a week. 
 
 It was late in the evening before he summoned courage to ap 
 proach the subject he had at heart. 
 
 " I must see Hugh to-night," looking out through the window at 
 the scudding night rack across the sky. 
 
 " Hugh ? " absently. " O, the man who was so urgent for you to 
 return? No matter, dear boy. He is a half-witted, ill-conditioned 
 old fellow. He is well cared for. You shall not vex yourself. 
 Murdstone has seen him." 
 
 " Why, Murdstone ? " looking up startled. " He seldom will pre 
 scribe for the people." 
 
 " No. But this Hugh had some whim that his life was important 
 that he had business with you. Doubtless, a ruse to insure 
 attention." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 249 
 
 Garrick rose, losing color. " He had communications to make to 
 me?" 
 
 " That was his story. But there is no haste ; Murdstone said he 
 might live for years, if well taken care of. He deserves that. He 
 has been a useful fellow in his day, though both deaf and dumb, as 
 one may say." 
 
 Garrick stood with his hand on the back of the chair, looking up 
 furtively, as she spoke to the pictured face on the wall. 
 
 " This man was a favorite of my father s, I have heard ? " 
 
 The old lady s pale eyes shot a quick suspicious glance over her 
 spectacles. "His body-servant," dryly. "Is the want of proper 
 assistance much felt in the North, Garrick ? " changing her tone. 
 
 " There is something held back from me about this man," shuf 
 fling his whole body impatiently. "There is a story of a will, 
 whether trumped up by malice or true, I do not know ; but I came 
 here to sift it to the bottom. If my father s honor were called in 
 question, it is my place to right it. It was unjust and cruel to con 
 ceal it from me." 
 
 The angry heat rose to her face ; her thin eyelids began to flutter. 
 " Who threw imputation on Coyle Randolph s honor ? Who has 
 done it to you, Garrick ? Do you think I would have kept it 
 secret to guard your life, boy, if your father s good name had needed 
 defence ? Do you think I would ? " her weakly lined face growing 
 intense and significant. 
 
 " Why was the story hid from me, then ? " 
 
 " It was a matter full of pain and disgrace the quarrel between 
 your grandfather and his son. It was Coyle s wish that it should 
 be forgotten. Was that unnatural? There was no proof that the 
 will ever had been preserved after the first angry heat in which it 
 was drawn." 
 
 "Kit had been?" 
 
 "You would have been without fortune, Garrick; but no less a 
 Randolph," proudly. 
 
 " Without fortune ? A beggar ! " vehemently. " I do not find 
 that the Randolph blood weighs hoavily in the world s scales with- \ 
 out money." 
 
 Aunt Laura drew herself stiffly sreot, with a look of grave sur 
 prise, but made no answer. 
 
 " Not only without fortune, but the Randolph property would 
 have belonged to James Strebling or his children," with a bitter 
 scowl never seen on his face before. For, with the ingenuity of 
 self-torture of a morbid man, he had secretly pondered the proba 
 bility of Ross ever becoming co-heiress with Robert Strebling of 
 her father s money. He had heard the story of the long-ago visit ; 
 had learned to understand the tenderness in Strebling s tone when 
 he talked of "Rosslyn Comly ;" it galled some passions within him 
 
250 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 to life which no man ever had suspected in the gentle scholar ; the 
 shame which Strebling had given to his base-born child he could 
 forgive ; but the tenderness never ! 
 
 Aunt Laura patted her fingers together, dismayed at the cause 
 less white heat of wrath in his face. " There is no need to vex 
 yourself, dear boy," coughing to gain breath. " There was no will. 
 You can assure yourself of that from this negro Hugh. He was 
 your grandfather s man at the time of his death." 
 
 " Where can I find him ? " pushing the chair from him and taking 
 up his cap. 
 
 " To-night ? He is lodged over the tool-house, as usual. But 
 there is ample time. He may live for years, with care. One won 
 ders indeed, sometimes, why such useless lives are preserved 
 poor wretches! You will go to-night? Good-by till morning, 
 then, Garrick. My nerves are all unstrung," and the old lady 
 pressed a dry kiss upon his forehead, and went hesitatingly away 
 with her little minuet step, and feebly sad face. 
 
 Garrick Randolph did not go out at once. He stood on the 
 hearth-rug, his hands clasped behind him, looking up into his fath 
 er s eyes. The painter had caught their expression aptly ; they 
 were controlled, concealing ; he knew that when he was a boy, scan 
 ning, as a child does, the faces near him. Some thought hid sud 
 denly out of sight in them whenever they turned fairly to another 
 face. 
 
 What was it that Coyle Randolph had to conceal? His son, 
 staring straight at the daubed canvas, told himself that no life was 
 whiter, that it had been even weak through its palpable effeminate 
 purity and talk of sentimental honor. 
 
 He told himself this, and then he went to the sideboard and 
 gulped down a glass of brandy, his teeth chattering with a sudden 
 faintness and nausea. 
 
 The healthy night air partially restored him to reason. He 
 laughed at the fancy that his fate depended on a visit to old Hugh s 
 crib, where he used to go when a boy to have his tops mended. 
 He was making himself the hero of a melodrama ! He went up the 
 ricketty ladder to the loft with something of the comfortable sense 
 of mastership returning to him, and pushed open the door after a 
 tap on it. The room was familiar and commonplace enough. There 
 was the negro s wood-heap in one corner, and his cot in another ; a 
 tallow candle and a plate of rice, boiled wiih flitch, on the table; a 
 brown and yellow jug of tea simmering on the brick edge of the 
 grate. A foxy little cur was staring into the fire squatted at the 
 old man s feet, who was rubbing one bare, swollen leg without 
 wincing, though the pain brought out clammy drops over his fore 
 head. Hugh s words had been sparing through life. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 251 
 
 "Pse glad to see you, Mars Garrick," quietly turning his head, 
 then rising to drag a chair over the floor. 
 
 " You ve been ailing, Uncle ? " 
 
 "Yes, suh. Doctor Murdstone, he say dat I chance fur some 
 years yet ef I stay in-doors. But I don t know." 
 
 "Of course, of course," heartily. You shall be well nursed, 
 Hugh. You wanted to see me for an especial reason?" his voice 
 changing in spite of himself. 
 
 " No, suh ; no, suh," stooping over to tie his shoe. " It s not dat 
 p ticlar." 
 
 Garrick was used to the shuffling habit of the negroes. " It was 
 a mistake, then," carelessly snapping his fingers at the dog. 
 
 " Dere wur one matter dat I counted on mentioning, dough it 
 wurn t of no account, special. I tought I d like s I wurn t of no 
 use hyar to hev my free papers fur dis time as s lef to me." 
 
 Randolph drew a long breath, and laughed nervously as if a sud 
 den weight had been lifted from his heart. 
 
 " You have the hobby of your people, eh ? What could the name 
 of freedom be worth to you, Uncle ? You have all you want here. 
 Though you shall have it," hastily. " I did not mean to refuse it 
 to you." 
 
 " No, suh," patting the dog s yellow hide slowly. 
 
 Garrick, who liked to give favors and to be thanked for them, 
 looked up sharply at the old man s quiet indifference. 
 
 " When kin I hev dem papers, sah ? " 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 "I se at liberty den, to go and come whar I please?" his hand 
 stopping short while, without raising his head, he waited for the 
 answer. 
 
 " Do you want to leave the farm ? " coldly. 
 
 "I se ill leave um. Ye-s, suh. I se lies all I want hyar; but I 
 hed two boys when I wur a young man, an I d like to see dem uns 
 wunst fore I se put by." 
 
 " You are going to the Strebling place ? " with quick suspicion. 
 
 " One ob dem lads am dere," slowly. " You needn t be feerd to 
 trust me by m Mars Streblin ," with a meaning laugh. 
 
 Garrick s face sharpened with some emotion which he strove to 
 hide. " I have been over hasty in promising you your freedom, per 
 haps," he said, hotly. 
 
 Hugh turned on him the grave, quizzical old face framed in its 
 white wool of hair and beard. "I se not bin hasty in askin dat ar 
 den. When you was knee-high to me, Mars Garrick, ole Mars, he 
 bid me remain long ob you till you wur of age. He ll give you 
 your free-papers den, ole Mars said." 
 
 Randolph laughed incredulously. 
 
252 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The old man stiffened his little, wiry body. Ignorant and dull as 
 his face might be, it had in it a quiet self-respeot which checked 
 Randolph s sneering laugh. He rose and hobbled over the floor to 
 an old tin chest, unlocking the padlock and taking out a sealed, 
 discolored letter, which he carried over and laid beside the young 
 man. " De man what wrote dem words knew what I was wurf," 
 he muttered, as he sat down again, putting his hands on his knees, 
 looking in the stove, averting his eyes from Garrick. 
 
 Randolph took up the square letter, sealed with wax and smell 
 ing of onions and tobacco ; the first glance had showed him his own 
 name on the back in his father s writing. He turned it over slow 
 ly, not looking at it again after that. 
 
 " I know you are to be trusted you were my father s friend I 
 am hardly myself, to-night " the sentences falling mechanically 
 from his dry lips, the pupils of his eyes contracted as he looked into 
 the fire. 
 
 He was gaining time. 
 
 The old negro heard at last the wax break, and the rustle of the 
 paper as it was opened ; but he did not turn ; sat rubbing his skin 
 ny hand over the dog that he had taken up on his knee, the far-off, 
 s back-looking expression in his hazel eyes common to every man, 
 black or white, who has led a silent, solitary life. Once, at some 
 inarticulate sound in the corner where Garrick sat, he half rose, 
 then sat down again, nodding his head, and mumbling to himself. 
 Nor did he look up, although half an hour elapsed before the young 
 man got up and, coming to the stove, stood before him. The letter 
 was not in his hand. There was no agitation in his manner or face, 
 but even to the old man s quick, furtive glance, the whole man bore 
 a shrunken, conscious look, like one on whom had fallen some 
 moral leprosy. His voice, however, beyond its ordinary tones, was 
 loud and arrogant. 
 
 " You did my father a service ? He tells me it is in this let 
 ter" 
 
 " I tought Mars Coyle ud make it plain in dem words," quietly. 
 The old man s face was a mass of wrinkles, but the hazel eyes 
 looked steadily out of them. Garrick s fell before them. " He giv 
 his word to me, and ole Mars was an hon able man, although " 
 He stopped short. The blue eyes in the colorless face before him 
 flashed up at him like a tiger s about to spring, and an almost im 
 perceptible shudder crept over the young man s whole body ; but 
 he held himself down, and after a moment resumed, cool and grave, 
 
 "You know what is in this letter, then ? " 
 
 " I know what dem words hint at. Mars Coyle said : My son, 
 (which is you, sah), my son, says he, will understand. No one 
 else. " 
 
 There was some dormant hope,chance in Garrick s mind of a 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 253 
 
 forgery, an impossible idea such as would float in the fogged brain 
 of a half-maddened man. 
 
 " Why did he give that to you ? " he said. 
 
 The negro hesitated, shuffling his heels, his stubby black fingers 
 working in his white, broad shirt-collar. " He said, twas to make 
 shore dat you d gin me dem free papers. He knowed all I could 
 tell, ef yo did not. But I se d be slow to think Mars Coyle was 
 fcerd of Hugh," shaking his head. " We once wur lads togedder, 
 yo see; campin out long de Cumberland, bar huntin , for months 
 by de time. Come he wur growed, t wur me dat helped him in 
 dem scrapes at collidge ob dicin an drinkin to hold it dark frum 
 de ole man. I tink Mars Coyle nebber feered ob me." 
 
 " You have been leisurely in claiming your freedom, considering 
 on what ground you ask it." Randolph took out his handkerchief 
 and passed it over his dry, parching face. He wondered if the in 
 sanity which was said to lie latent in every man had come to him ? 
 His soul and body were on fire with something akin to thirst, and it 
 seemed to him as if nothing but the life of this black wretch could 
 quench it. 
 
 The old fellow looked up bewildered. " Yo mean I se bin slow 
 bout dar ar. Jest so. I se tought on gwine year afer year. Dar s 
 dem cullored folk as it hev took dere freedom and hev bought dere 
 sons . But I se not got dat much ambition. I se no great hand fur 
 strokes of work. But I se d like to see dem lads Nathan an 
 Sap " a smile coming on his face. 
 
 Randolph was silent, looking down on him with speculation in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " But I se 11 not delay no longer, I reckon, suh. I m bound to 
 see dem soon, or nebber till we re crost dat wide riber. De horn s 
 blew fur night wid me, Mars Garrick." 
 
 Garrick rubbed his large white hands in one another as he held 
 them clasped behind him. " How soon can you travel ? " he asked, 
 clearing his throat. 
 
 Hugh laughed. " Pears to me, suh, s I could go to-morrow, 
 when I tink ob seein dem dere lads agin. Dough it ll not be easy 
 leavin de ole place." 
 
 He looked up for an answer, but his* master s eyes were turned 
 vacantly on the floor. A negro s and a child s instincts are keen : 
 this was not the man who had been willing to camp and track with 
 him, whose gambling and drunkenness he had smothered over. 
 
 The old man stood up, jerking out the shirt-collar further. " I se 
 perceive yo don t put confidence in me as Mars Coyle did, suh ? " 
 
 Randolph laughed a false, artificial laugh but made no reply. 
 He thought he saw the wily old schemer s plan clearly : to trade 
 this knowledge of the will he and his master had destroyed to 
 James Strebling, to gain therewith his son s freedom. He was not 
 
254 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 too lazy for that stroke of work. And though the will was gone 
 and the testimony only a negro s, the Streblings would buy this 
 story at any price. What did it matter ? The property rightfully 
 belonged to them. To-morrow, Randolph would give it over if 
 he were an honorable man. The property, and the honor of his 
 father. Already he heard young Bob Strebling s ribald sneer at 
 the mention of Coyle Randolph s name. 
 
 " I Avill leave home this place, to-morrow : for Mr. Strebling s 
 plantation. You can go with me. One of your sons has remained 
 there, I think." 
 
 "Tank yo, suh. Yo don know which, suh?" knuckling his fore 
 head humbly. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " No, suh. Twouldn t be likely as yo would. I se 11 be ready, 
 Mars Garrick." 
 
 There was an eager servility, new in his manner, since Randolph 
 had thought his sons worth mention. 
 
 " Be ready, then, by noon." 
 
 Hugh scraped and bowed and smiled, but elicited no response 
 from the pale, controlled face before him. " I kin do nothin fur 
 yo furder, suh ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 Yet he stood a moment, looking at the wrinkled black face grin 
 ning out of its fringe of white wool at him. The passion had faded 
 out of his own quiet, melancholy eyes. It seemed to him now sim 
 ply pitiful that a thing so mean should have power to deal him a 
 mortal blow ; a blow that had wounded the dead in their graves. 
 
 Turning to leave the loft, he glanced back into it; a shed with 
 the barest shelter, food and fuel in it that would support life ; and that 
 life ? Of how much more value was it than the cur s that lay 
 gnawing his bone before the fire ? To Randolph s philosophic eye, 
 a negro had always been a necessary part of the world s machinery 
 of labor ; fitted to the Southern climate as the draught horse was 
 to English mining sections, or the light mustang to the Western 
 flats. Providence was wise in such adjustments. But when one of 
 these tools, with the passions and appetites of an animal, thrust 
 itself up into a man s path to foul and balk it what then ? The 
 wrong done him was, in any case, hard to bear, but the inherent 
 difference between the race of the negro and his own made it gall 
 ing beyond endurance. 
 
 There were men who would not scruple to work their field-hands 
 to death in a given number of years, as a matter of sheer economy, 
 regarding them simply as producing power. One of such men 
 would soon dispose of Hugh. He could not go so far as that . 
 
 Though if the negro were dead, Coyle Randolph s name would 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 255 
 
 still be pure ; and he need not give up his grave yonder, to-morrow. 
 There was no evidence but the old man s word. 
 
 Hugh stood shifting from one ragged foot to another. " It am a 
 long journey fore we reach Mars Jeems Streblin s, sah ? " 
 
 " Yes." There was a close, penetrating look in Randolph s face, 
 the meaning and motive of which fell outside of the negro s brain ; 
 he stood irresolute a moment, then, with a grave nod, turned and 
 went cautiously down the narrow stairs into the moonlight below. 
 The old man followed, looking down after the athletic, daintily 
 clothed figure, and scholarly head, as they disappeared, making a 
 motion, once or twice, as if he would have called him back. But 
 he suffered him to go, listening to his steps on the tan-bark path 
 below until they reached the house. Then he went to his wooden 
 box, and taking out a woman s dirty calico needle-book drew from 
 it a slip of yellow parchment. 
 
 " He didn t ask me fur de will, an pears like I couldn t vex 
 de young fellar no furder," looking at it with his head to one 
 side. "Dough I see he tink me a cussed ole liar; an I se serbed 
 him faithful bout dis ting dese many years. But I se 11 keep it fur 
 him ; I nebber seen him favor his father like to-night ; an he s jest 
 married, I se 11 not be hard on de young man," folding up the paper 
 and restoring it to his hiding place, with a dozen nods. 
 
 He covered his fire, blew out the candle, and whistled the dog to 
 their joint bed of straw on the floor. But presently he sat up with 
 his hand on the sleeping cur, staring restlessly into the smouldering 
 embers. He could not sleep for thinking of the two lads he was 
 going to see ; he could not force himself to understand that they 
 were men, and not the scrawny, bright little yellow shavers whose 
 torn-boy tricks used to fetch the hot blood tingling to his finger 
 ends with delight. He would only find one of them at the Streb- 
 lino-s : he wondered which ? But he could sro look for the other 
 
 O * O 
 
 being free. 
 
 He got up and began to set aside his miserable little belongings 
 in lots to give away in the morning; the table for Yiney, the chair 
 for Sue, the candlestick for one, jug to another; such matters would 
 count in the cabins. The old fellow went about it chuckling; he 
 never had had a chance to be generous before, though the chuckle 
 broke down now and then into the sobbing whimper of old age; 
 for with all his morose silence, Hugh had the clannish, absorbing 
 affections of his race; the twenty negroes, old and young, who had 
 been born and grown up about him, seemed to him, to-night, each 
 one part of his own flesh and blood. 
 
 After he had divided and re-divided the rubbish, he examined his 
 clothes, which were patched, but clean, pulled out his broad white 
 collar with satisfaction. " I d like to make a spectable pearance 
 fore de lads," he muttered. 
 
256 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 He tied up a small bag of meal and another of rice, which he 
 had been saving for weeks out of his rations. " S likely dat ll hold 
 me s long s I se widout work," looking at them reflectively. " Pse 
 don t want de boys to tink dere father s come to hang round, a no- 
 account free nigger. I se 11 not go empty-handed." He put the 
 bags side by side, and his brimless old felt hat beside them on the 
 table, at first with a smile. Then he stopped and looked at them. 
 
 " I tink de Randolph state owes me dat much," he said, a sud 
 den change coming into his face. 
 
 Out of his long life of patient and not unskillful labor, he had 
 brought that ; his ragged clothes, his brimless hat, the rations he 
 had stinted out of his daily meals. Perhaps Master Garrick would 
 give him, when they parted, a five-dollar bill. He squatted 
 down again looking in the fire. If he had been born white, with a 
 few years teaching at the common school, he would have been 
 now, most probably, a master mechanic, under his own roof, child 
 ren and giand-children about him, taking his part in politics, having 
 his word in. church and town matters, a man of standing, and 
 name. 
 
 "I se wurn t a hard worker, but I se hed a knack fur nice jobs. 
 Pse brought in hunderds a year to Mars Coyle, down in de mill 
 dar," he said. "An I se brought nuifin but dat yonder out wid 
 my gray hairs to take to my boys." 
 
 A strange look gathered into the face of this tool of Randolph s, 
 whose place in the economies of labor had been so aptly adjusted 
 by Providence; an expression such as Coyle Randolph had met 
 there once before, when, years after Hugh had been separated from 
 his boys mother, he had told him to choose another wife. 
 
 " I tank you, Mars," quietly looking up from his saw. " I se 
 neber bring anoder man child into de world to be a slave." Coyle 
 Randolph wondered dully if it had hurt the man to take wife and 
 children from him, but thought it best to ask no further questions ; 
 and Hugh had made no complaint. But he kept his word. 
 
 During the night the old man rose two or three times from his 
 uneasy sleep to rearrange his bags, and look out impatiently for 
 the tardy morning. When, at last, it dawned, he took the will out 
 of his box, secreting it in his flannel shirt, and then, from another 
 hiding-place, drew out a necklace of small, dark blue beads with a 
 gilt fringe, which he held up admiringly in the dim light, polishing 
 it with his sleeve. 
 
 <; Nathan and Sap ud be glad to see somefin dat de ole woman 
 wore," folding it up. " I kin tell dem lajls it was a moughty true 
 heart to dem an me dese beads kivered," and then whistled to his 
 dog and stirred up his fire for the last time with shaking hands and 
 a feeble chuckle. 
 
 Randolph, going into the house the night before, had seated him- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 257 
 
 self with a cigar to quiet his nerves, turning his back to the face 
 looking down on him from the wall. The lamp burned low ; he 
 trimmed it, and took up a pile of letters which Aunt Laura had left 
 for him to read ; letters from the cousins and uncles who were, with 
 out exception, fighting on the Confederate side. Garrick read page 
 after page, blank of meaning to him, conscious only of a stunning 
 pain in his brain, which no cure, he thought, would ever touch. He 
 thrust one scrawl after another in its envelope, dully wondering why 
 he, rather than any of these feather-brained boys, should have been 
 condemned to this test of to-night ; to beggar himself with the same 
 word that declared his father a swindler. He, who had kept morals 
 and honor so jealously pure. 
 
 At that moment he opened a large blue sheet, covered with his 
 uncle John Page s bold characters. John Page was the head of the 
 family. His own name caught his eye. "I did not blame Garrick 
 for espousing the Federal cause. Whatever he does is prompted 
 by an honorable motive, however mistaken. He will do no dis 
 credit to his family on whatever side he fight. Coyle Randolph s 
 name is safe in his son s keeping." 
 
 Garrick laid down the letter, a boyish flush on his face. " Very 
 fair in Uncle John, very fair. But he was always a just, moderate 
 man, with a keen appreciation of character." His eyes rested on 
 the words, "His father s honor would be safe in his keeping." 
 They seemed to him more than a coincidence. Save it? How 
 could he save it ? Yet nothing stood in his way but this negro s 
 life. 
 
 Mechanically glancing over the page, another sentence startled 
 him into consciousness. 
 
 " We need laborers, and at once. Of course, Garrick having ta 
 ken the course which he has done, his people are not available ; but 
 if any of the planters will forward able-bodied men to the govern 
 ment agent in Rogersville, they will be credited and amply paid for 
 their services. The agent will return to Georgia on the 4th. Try 
 what you can do for us. Sales may be made permanently, if pre 
 ferred, and, entre nous, that would be the most prudent plan for the 
 owners. The men are to work on fortifications and railroads, and 
 will not be worth a great deal when the contractors have done with 
 them." 
 
 Randolph held the letter a moment. Then lie let it fall as though 
 it stung him, and began to walk unsteadily up and down the room, 
 even that motion seemed to irritate and excite him, and stopping 
 by the window, he drew the curtains behind him to shut out the 
 peering light of the lamp, and remained alone motionless until late 
 in the night. Then he came out with his usual composed step, and 
 selecting John Page s letter from among the others, folded it care 
 fully and placed it in his breast pocket. 
 17 
 
253 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The time of departure was altered the next morning ; instead of 
 noon, they set out immediately after breakfast. Mr. Randolph did 
 not appear until the carriage, horses and negroes had been waiting 
 in a breathless state of impatience and excitement for an hour. 
 Every little black urchin on the place had assembled to see old 
 Hugh off ; the older members of the party held a grave consultation 
 about him on the stable door. He had deposited his bags under 
 the seat of the carriage ; his gray wool was combed to the extreme 
 of stiffness, the clothes brushed again and again. Aunt Laura had 
 sent him out a bundle of tobacco and a bank-note, and Hugh, in his 
 delight, had forgotten all his morbid notions of the night bofore. 
 He was adorned, too, with a red cravat which Viny had presented 
 him, and his black hands were thrust into a pair of kid gloves with 
 gaps at every finger. Just before Garrick appeared, too, Cole hur 
 ried out with a pair of half- worn shoes. 
 
 " Dey se stouter dan your n, Hugh ; I want to swap. Dey ll look 
 more spectable to dem Streblins." 
 
 So that it was with a certain self-satisfaction under his shaking 
 hands and distorted smile, that Hugh presented himself to Randolph 
 ready for departure, hoping through all his trouble at leaving the 
 old place, and plans about " the lads " that his master would ap 
 prove of his finery as presentable. But the young man was un 
 usually brusque ; passed through the bowing and grinning crowd 
 without notice, buttoning his coat nervously, a cloud in his stern 
 blue eyes ; and when Hugh, after a final chorus of good-byes and 
 wrenches of the hand, scrambled up in front, he carefully averted 
 his eyes from him with a look, the old man fancied, of disgust. 
 Turning the corner by the mill, where the house was lost to view, 
 Hugh nearly dislocated his neck in waving his ragged handker 
 chief to the group at the front door, and then settled himself with 
 a choking sob in silence. He did not know if it would need a day 
 or a week to bring thereto their journey s end, and to the boys ; 
 but he asked no questions after a glance at the pale, resolute face 
 behind him. 
 
 It was near nightfall of the day following when they drove up 
 to the depot in Rogers ville. In an outer room of the station there 
 were crowded about fifty negroes, all men, some of them laughing 
 and joking; a very few hobbled. 
 
 " Dem s missebul slaves, goin down to Georgy rice fields," 
 thought Hugh, with the new pride of freedom strong in him, as he 
 lumbered along behind Randolph, his sacks under his arm. 
 
 "Wait there, Hugh," nodding to the negroes. "I must leave 
 you here ; I will put you under a gentleman s care." 
 
 " All right, Mars . Is it is it far to Mars Streblen s ? " hesi 
 tated Hugh. 
 
 But Garrick passed on without answer. A lie stuck in his throat. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 259 
 
 The old man sat down humbly apart from the white men grouped 
 around, and just as far from ihe rough negroes. The engine, with 
 its fiery -red eyes, was shrieking up and down the platform. His 
 master came out presently with a wiry, hook-nosed little man, who 
 scanned Hugh keenly as he passed. Then Hugh saw them enter 
 the little office, and, going to a desk, exchange papers. 
 
 " It s my free papers, I reckon. Dat s all right, I s p ose ; Mars 
 Garrick knows ; dough seme how I d rather have had dat in my 
 own hands/ 
 
 The whole black monster of a train, an object of mortal dread to 
 Hugh, moved mountainously up in front of him ; and in a moment, 
 how, he hardly knew, he found himself hustled with the whole 
 black and white crowd on board, and caged in one of the narrow 
 dark cars. Looking out of the window, he saw Garrick in the twi 
 light standing talking to the sharp-looking trader, drawing his 
 glove off and on nervously as he held his hands behind him. The 
 few lamps glimmering dully on the platform made the night, the 
 moving train, the wild shriek of the engine, more dreary and deso 
 late to the old man s frightened eyes. He managed to thrust his 
 black face out of the car window, and beckoned desperately to 
 Garrick, nodding, with a miserable attempt at a laugh. " You L 
 say good-by, Mars Garrick, shure ?" 
 
 But Garrick held his head studiously averted, though the agent 
 looking in his colorless face, saw that his own words fell on deaf 
 ears. 
 
 " The old man is scarcely worth the carriage ; he will not bear 
 the exposure of two week s work. However, as you make no 
 charge to the Government I hardly felt myself justified in re 
 fusing. * All aboard, eh ? I must bid you good evening, sir, " 
 And touching his hat, he sprang on the moving train. 
 
 Garrick, slowly raising his head, saw the old man s face as it 
 passed him, peering eagerly from the dark car, and heard his weak 
 quaver as it called out something about " how far to Mars Streb- 
 lin s," and then died away in the distance. 
 
 Then he adjusted his hat, and passing his hand over his parched 
 face, wiped a fleck of foam from his mouth. He had saved the 
 honor of the Randolphs ; he could go back to Rosslyn. At that 
 his eyes turned from the retreating train, and from the stars begin- 
 ing to shine in the dark blue overhead, and were glued to the 
 ground, where he thrust his boot to and fro among the straw and 
 filth of the platform. He had no will to do otherwise. 
 
260 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 " WE differ in our opinion of women, Markle, as we do in every 
 thing else," and Captain Knox puffed an impatient breath of cigar 
 smoke through the cool evening air as if to rid himself of a mo 
 mentary irritation. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I do not pretend to comprehend their wire-drawn 
 sympathies and affinities, Knox. The woman I love is an enigma 
 to me ; if there be any subtle relation between her soul and mine I 
 don t know it. But I love her, honestly and above board ; I ll put 
 what strength and patience God gave me into the winning of her. 
 If I succeed, I ll be a faithful, tender husband. But I can not 
 promise more than that. I d never enter into her morbid, hysterical 
 whims. I d cure her of them, eh ? " 
 
 " I wish you success," dryly, knocking the ashes from his cigar. 
 Markle strolled up and down before the tent, whistling, a half- 
 smile on his mouth, but the annoyed frown lingered on his com 
 panion s face. He had seen the woman whom he knew that Markle 
 meant. They had met her during their Summer s furlough a 
 daughter of the blind preacher Conrad there was certainly no 
 affinity between her and the outspoken little Lieutenant. Knox 
 thought there was no chance of success for him, and it angered him 
 that he should have invited a disappointment which promised to be 
 deep and irreparable. 
 
 " However," he said aloud, shifting his head where he lay on the 
 grass, " in case you did not succeed, failure would not sour or em 
 bitter you, as it does men of less mellow temper, George." 
 
 Markle stopped, looking gravely into the Captain s face. " I do 
 not mean to fail," he said, quietly. 
 
 Knox moved hastily, making a motion once or twice as if he 
 would have spoken ; a word of warning now he thought, might be of 
 incalculable benefit hereafter, but after an uneasy glance at Markle s 
 little black-bearded face, he remained silent, and the subject was 
 dropped. 
 
 "There is Burley! Hillo, Lieutenant!" exclaimed Markle, as 
 an uncouth figure came lumbering up the hill. Knox smiled again, 
 meaningly. Old Joe was popular with all the men, and had de 
 served his promotion ; but the Captain shrewdly suspected that 
 Markle chose him as companion beside the tent-fire often because he 
 had once known these Conrads, and now and then made incidental 
 mention of them. 
 
 "Joe has news," said Knox, raising himself on his elbow. "I 
 can hear him muttering to himself even here." 
 
 The young men were in front of their tent, which was pitched a 
 little in advance of the line of the camp, on the ridge of one of the 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 261 
 
 sharp cleft Alabama hills that run. back from the Tennessee River. 
 It was the close of a chilly Autumn day ; drifts of silvery mist 
 floated over the melancholy valley at their feet, while the oblique 
 sunlight, touching the wooded mountain sides, kindled here and 
 there a flashing answer of scarlet or crimson flame in the green 
 foliage. They liked their new camping-ground. The dry surface 
 tints of the sky, the plumage of the birds that passed like wavering 
 flecks of color through the dark recesses of the woods, the rank pro 
 fusion of poisonous vines that matted the rocky cuts of the hill with 
 brilliant blossoms belonged to a climate new to them. The forests 
 were full of life silenced and guarded ; though sometimes at nightfall 
 the " craik " of the wild turkey escaped from the nearer thicket or 
 an antlered head thrust from the distant shadows provoked an inef 
 fectual shot. 
 
 The two or three regiments thrown forward along the line of the 
 railroad in Northern Alabama from luka to Tuscumbia, for its pro 
 tection, had found their sojourn pleasant enough. The Summer 
 months had passed since Joe Burley had recovered from his wound, 
 and leaving Rosslyn to await her husband s return from Kentucky 
 had rejoined his regiment, and penetrated with them into this new 
 ground. There were rumors afloat in camp to-day of a contem 
 plated move northward ; a vague report, also, of a pressure exerted 
 on the President to force a proclamation which would enfranchise 
 the slaves and enlist them on the Federal side. The news produced 
 a peculiar unrest and excitement in this arm of the Government 
 force, thrust forward into insecure Rebel ground. 
 
 Contrabands thronged daily into camp, having caught some mys 
 terious whispers of the coming change. 
 
 Burley had been down in the field by the river brink where they 
 were huddled together hungry and half-clothed, joking and singing 
 hymns about their smouldering fires as if they were quietly safe in ,^ 
 the "promised land." 
 
 "What kin ye do with em?" Joe broke out angrily as he joined 
 the young officers. " They re a gang that wos bein druv to the 
 Gulf. It s starvation for them to stay in camp, and death to go 
 back to their owners, and ther they are, filthy and half-naked, yha- 
 ha-ing and cackling over old jokes. De Lord 11 see to dem. Dey a 
 bin expectin freedom dis long time, they say. But not a stroke 
 of work in their calculations. You might as well look for forecast 
 in a baby or a blind puppy as a nigger. They just throw them- u 
 selves loose on the Lord." 
 
 " One would think they might be tired of that," sneered Knox. 
 
 Burley was turning his cap inside out, with an anxious, signifi 
 cant look at Markle. " One of them men hed a queer message fur 
 some one. Ther s a colored man, says he, in the caboose in the 
 town below, that s bin ther most of the Summer, bein caught 
 
262 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 makin his way to the Yankee camp. He s nigh about done gone, 
 massa, says he. *A little, bald-headed yaller fellar, weak in his 
 breath. When our gang wur ther in the caboose, an he knowed 
 we wur goin* to break fur the camp, he says, Ther s an Ohio regi 
 ment up ther, an you ax ef ther s a Mars Markle in it, an giv him 
 this paper. I wur follerin that regiment, says he. Maybe he ll 
 help me to one day of freedom fore I se put away. That sounds 
 like Nat, Leftenant." 
 
 " Where is the paper ? " 
 
 Burley drew out a yellow scrap ; the back of an old letter, on 
 which were scrawled some numbers. 
 
 " It is Nat ! " holding it close to his eyes in the dim light. " Poor 
 wretch ! This is the information he was to carry to Garfield. Too 
 late to be of use. But he earned his freedom by it. In the ca 
 boose, you say, Burley? Knox," he hesitated, "will you help me 
 in this matter?" 
 
 "No. I hardly feel that my commission justifies me in running 
 off fugitive slaves," whiffing angrily at the stump of his cigar. 
 
 " As you will," quietly, turning off into the tent. 
 
 " A word with you, Leftenant," said Joe, touching him on the 
 shoulder ; and the two men walked away together. 
 
 Captain Knox, with a shrug, went into the tent ; but he came out 
 again presently to watch them as they went down the hill, passing 
 the pickets, toward the road which led to the village. The risk 
 they ran was uncertain to him: the people of the town and neigh 
 boring plantations had been overawed by the presence of the Fed 
 eral troops, but he doubted whether, galled as they were by the 
 rumors of the coming proclamation, they would patiently submit 
 to direct interference Avith their slaves. Once he went in, armed 
 himself, and prepared to follow them, and then sat down irreso 
 lutely on a pile of logs outside, drumming with his fingers, watch 
 ing the road which they had taken, until late in the night. The 
 songs and halloos of the contrabands down by the river added to 
 his irritation. " What can you do with them ? " he asked, as not 
 only Joe, but the nation, weary of a so far ineffective war, was 
 doing at that time, with a sense of over-burdened impatience. 
 Knox was a thorough American : with thin lips, restless, doubting 
 gray eyes, wiry, fibrous frame : he acknowledged argumentatively 
 the wrong done to the slave, and his right to redress ; but in fact, 
 the very scars of the negro, the hurt done to his brain by this 
 slavery, his lazy good-humor, his lustfulness, his blind faith in " de 
 Lord," jarred against Knox s nature at every point, chafed him 
 with an unreasonable disgust and choler, the more that he could 
 not shake off the consciousness of debt owed to this unwelcome 
 man and brother. With all other Northerners outside of the Rad- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 203 
 
 ical party, he cast his eyes to Liberia, to colonies in Central Amer 
 ica, as a means of disencumbering -the country of them. It was 
 the old story. Prospero could not easily rid himself of this black 
 Caliban, whose crown of manhood he had stolen from him. 
 
 In spite of his Democratic principles, however, when Captain 
 Knox, about twelve o clock, saw by the starlight three dark figures 
 instead of two crossing the field at the foot of the hill, he only no 
 ticed that one halted weakly now and then, and dragged his feet 
 heavily and lame, and forgot to ask whose property he was. The 
 night was damp and chilly; he hurried into the tent, and, making 
 up the fire, brewed a jug of hot toddy, and brought out some cold 
 meat and bread, lit the lamp, and went out to meet them. Markle 
 and Burley had stopped, hesitating. 
 
 " Come in, come in. What are your teeth chattering for, Joe ? " 
 
 "The fog is heavy below," said Markle. "This man is a friend 
 of mine, Captain Knox," as Nathan stood, bowing, humbly rubbing 
 his hands. " He gave up the chance of escape from slavery once 
 to save my life. But you are a free man to-night, Nat ! " touching 
 him on the shoulder. 
 
 " Yes, suh," looking down, holding his hand over his mouth. 
 
 "You did not tell me his history, Markle, or I would have gone 
 with you," bustling about the tent, placing Nat in the warmest seat, 
 " Had you any trouble ? " 
 
 " None. The caboose was a miserable old shanty, and the guard 
 half drunk. He surrendered at the first glimpse of Joe s uniform. 
 You helped us more by brewing this toddy," sipping it. Markle 
 was feverish with excitement in all of his jerking little body, 
 chewed tobacco nervously, clapped his hands together, laughed 
 loudly, and was as suddenly silent. "A free man, Nat, a free 
 man," he cried at intervals. Burley sat silent, looking heavily in 
 the fire, glancing now and then at the mulatto, with the awed, 
 sober look men have when brought suddenly in contact with death 
 in the midst of a busy day. Captain Knox, pouring out coffee 
 cups full of the steaming drink, kept a grave watch on the bald- 
 headed little man in the background, with his hands on his knees, 
 and gaudy ear-rings dangling at each side of his sharp, hungry 
 face. This was not his hypothetical fat, lazy, sensual nigger. 
 
 He touched him as he handed him a drink. " Cheer up, sir," 
 unconsciously using the tone he judged fitted for a white man. 
 " You ve had hard measure, but your chance is come now. You ll 
 find the world just what you please to make it." 
 
 Nathan looked up, the blood darkening his face, but the words 
 came slowly to his untrained tongue. Before he spoke, Knox 
 turned away and began to draw on his boots and coat. "It is 
 time for my round. I ll leave you alone for an hour or two. You 
 
264 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 had better get that man to sleep," aside to Markle. " No brain 
 could stand the strain that shows itself through his eyes. Is it 
 possible that freedom means so much to them?" 
 
 " Freedom and some other trifles," said Markle, coolly. " It is 
 years since he saw wife or child. The strain would tell on your 
 brain or mine, Knox, if its only relief lay in the daily life of a 
 slave." 
 
 But Captain Knox was in no mood for argument. It was easier 
 to turn his back on Nathan and go to his round, thinking that mat 
 ters would right themselves. 
 
 " Keep him away from that crew below," he turned back to say, 
 however, nodding to Nathan with a look that had as much respect 
 in it as kindness. 
 
 Markle came up to the mulatto ; he had put down the drink 
 untasted. 
 
 " Why, Burley ! This fellow don t understand," he said, heart 
 ily. " A free man, Nat. Free to-night ! " 
 
 " Yes, suh. Yes, gentlemen," slowly, with a feeble laugh. 
 " Seem? as if I could nt re lize dat ar. It s bin a long time comin , 
 suh," growing grave again, looking wistfully about the cheerful 
 lighted tent, and out into the night beyond where the flapping 
 curtains left an opening into the darkness. 
 
 " Dem was curous words dat gentleman said, as how de world 
 was jest as you pleased to make it. I ve bin thinking of dat ar. 
 It s too late fur me, suh. But I was thinkin of Tom," a flash of 
 strength and triumph coming into his face. " He ll start different 
 from me, suh ? Eh ? " eagerly. 
 
 " To be sure. Tom s chance has come now. By the way, have 
 you heard from Anny or your boy ? " 
 
 The man s apathy dropped off, his whole bony figure grew tense 
 and eager. "I lef de plantation when Major Bob sent me back; 
 dat night I leP and hid in de swamp till I make my way out to de 
 Fairview place. De blue-coats was nigh to de riber, suh, and de 
 slaves in all de plantations was makin dere way to one camp or 
 anoder. Dere was stirrin, whisperin all ober de country ; a risin 
 like de Jews dat rose up in de night to seek dere freedom when de 
 first-born ob dern dat held dem in bondage lay dead. So I makes 
 my way to find my ole woman an my chile. I got dere late one 
 night. I looked to see dem." 
 
 " Was she married again ? " said Burley, when he stopped 
 abruptly. 
 
 The man drew himself up erect. " She wur not my wife, suh. 
 But she will not marry any man but me. Dey was gone," turning 
 to Markle. " She had taken de boy and gone in search of me. It 
 wur two months since she lef de Fairview place. Den I turned 
 back and corned home." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 265 
 
 " Into the hands of James Strebling ? " said Burley. 
 
 " I couldn t lose de chance of seem her and de boy. Suh, Tom 
 wos a baby when lie wos tuk from me, an dey tell me now he s nigh 
 as tall as me. Times, I tink its more than I kin bear, livin year 
 after year an him alive an me forbid to look at him." 
 
 " She did not come to the Strebling place, then ? " 
 
 "I never heern nor seen naught of her. I hung night an day 
 bout de roads. Dere were crowds of contrabands flyin here and 
 there, but none could tell me a word ob dem. Den de oberseer he 
 find me and put me in de calaboose." 
 
 "What will you do now, Nathan ?" asked Markle. 
 
 " I wus thinkin of stayin in camp. I ll send out word by all 
 these slaves dat s goin to and fro dat I m here, an besides, she ll 
 make her way at last to de Goverment camp. I ll meet her surer 
 here dan if I look de country round for her. Dat seems de soonest 
 way to me," looking up anxiously into Markle s face. 
 
 "No doubt you are right. When you have found them you 
 will push on to the North ? " 
 
 " No, suh," he hesitated, rubbing his hands over his knees : " praps 
 by dat time we ll be lowed to strike a blow for ourselbes. I d like 
 to hold a gun once in my hand to help my people. Dey s waited 
 long, suh, long. I heerd," he added, after a pause, "dat my father 
 is libin yit. He s on de place of M s Garrick Randolph. I can t 
 lib free, an him in slavery." 
 
 Joe Burley turned at Randolph s name. 
 
 " Your father, eh ? an old man ? " 
 
 "Yes, suh. Hugh s his name. He wur a famous man in his day 
 for lock-making an de like, I se heerd." 
 
 "I know his owner," said Joe, after a pause. "He is a kind, 
 generous master, I fancy. I think I kin promise you that he will 
 give you the old man s free papers." As he spoke, the recollection 
 of Randolph s mention of this very man Hugh returned to him, and 
 the conversation which followed, in which Broderip had borne a 
 part. Some sudden thought startled Burley, causing him to half 
 rise from the bench where he sat, scanning the mulatto s figure and 
 face keenly, not heeding his stammering exclamations of gratitude 
 and surprise. He made no comment, however, until an hour after, 
 when Nathan, wrapped in a blanket, lay asleep, as he thought, in 
 the corner ; then he gave vent to his perplexity to Markle. 
 
 "Ther s a curous likeness in Nathan here to some one, that 
 troubled me before in the gap. I ve found out the man, now." 
 
 " Who is it ? " asked Markle, moving sleepily. 
 
 "A surgeon in Philadelphia, Broderip by name. It s not only 
 features. Ther s a pecoolar look in both as if they d lost something 
 that cost them much and never found it agin. Though Nathan," 
 reflectively, "lies the honester face of the two. And the old man s 
 
266 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 name is Hugh ? " sitting up on his blanket, as link after link of some 
 half-guessed riddle opened itself to him. 
 
 For some cause Markle was startled awake by his words. " I 
 never saw this Broderip," he said; "though he was in Dubuque 
 before my last furlough. He was an acquaintance of of Mr. Con 
 rad s. A friend, in fact." 
 
 "Something nearer than that, I judge," said Joe, yawning. 
 " There was some sort of a betrothal between him and the preach 
 er s daughter, so the women s gossip went last Spring. But the 
 little man is full of his whims, and his love blew hot and cool, they 
 said. Hows ever, I heerd that he d follered them to Dubuque, re 
 solved finallv to bring her home some day. It s likely he ll suc 
 ceed." 
 
 Markle made no reply, and a^ked 110 further questions, but lay 
 staring out of the square gap into the night. When Joe was asleep 
 and his snores sounded through the tent like a trumpet, he got up, 
 and going out into the thick, damp fog, sat down motionless until 
 morning dawned. 
 
 Nathan had caught the words with the exaggerated haste and 
 confidence of a blind man groping for the weakest clue. He repeat 
 ed the name, Broderip, again and again to himself. Why should it 
 not be ? His brother had had education and friends. Why should 
 he not be a man of mark. If he had had a chance when he was a 
 boy he felt sometimes there was nothing he could not have become. 
 But Tom ? It would be different with Tom, thank God ! He could 
 not sleep. Little trifles, remembrances of " old Hugh," of his bro 
 ther, of Anny and the boy crowded on him. Could it be that they 
 ever would all be under one cabin roof again and free ? " De 
 Lord Jesus," he thought, "had taken their case into his mind at de 
 last." Most negroes would have given vent to their joy by tears 
 and shouts of glory, but Nat lay quite still on his face, his knuckles 
 pressed into his eyes, a clammy sweat breaking over his face. It 
 seemed to him he could not humble himself low enough before the 
 only Master he was ever, after this, to know, who long ago had 
 said that He meant to loose every bond and let the oppressed go 
 free ; and He did it now. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE LONG SEA EC II. 
 
 ABOUT forty miles from the tent where Nathan lay, a middle- 
 aged woman was plodding that night along a clay country 
 road, leading a boy by the hand. It was Anny going on with the 
 long search for him, which had lasted now for months, but her back 
 was to the tent, facing due south. Nobody but the stupid mulatto 
 could have thrown the glamour of romance or interest about her 
 or Tom, with which he had surrounded them in his wordless 
 thoughts. She was a short, stoutly-built woman, neatly dressed in 
 a brown calico, with firm, slow motions, and a homely, sensible 
 face ; the boy who dragged in his walk besides her was not the 
 "peart, well-growed" lad of his father s fancy, but stunted and 
 slight : his face, as he turned it up toward his mother s, scarcely 
 reached her waist. The night lightened after midnight, the pale 
 crescent of the moon hanging low over the further hills, throwing 
 white, vapory shadows across the mountain peaks on the left, and 
 glimmering with a ghostly pallor on the river close at their side. 
 The Fairview place lay in level, swampy ground ; until they started 
 on this pilgrimage the mountains were new to both woman and 
 child, and, although they had now been among them for months, 
 when the ghastly shadows flickered over the road, and the shrill 
 sigh of the wind rustled through the defiles, they walked closer and 
 held each other s hand tighter. Descending nearer to the river s 
 edge, the clay grew wet and heavy. The boy stumbled once or 
 twice and fell. 
 
 " It s time Tom mounted his pony," his mother said, slinging the 
 bundle she carried over her back, and picking him up. 
 
 " No, mammy, no ; I se too heavy." 
 
 " Hush, now. The barn they talked about is just over the hol 
 low." She had a strong, cheerful voice that she tried vainly to 
 bring to a whisper. Presently, although the boy s weight hardly 
 balanced the bundle, she shifted him with a long breath of relief. 
 
 " You re growin a heavy boy, you are, shore, Tom ! " 
 
 He chuckled delightedly. " That s so ! Seems as if I was get- 
 tin higher, too, every day," stiffening himself. " I ll seem like a 
 man almost to him when we find him, I reckon." 
 
 "That s shore, Tom." Her brows knitted and her nostrils 
 swelled as she spoke, and she held him closer in her arms. He had 
 
268 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 touched the one sore spot in the heart under the poor yellow breast, 
 to which the boy was strained like a baby. What if the child s 
 father should blame her for his stunted growth ? what if he should 
 not care for her boy ? At first sight he was a sickly little manikin ; 
 it needed to know Tom, to find how knowledgeable he was, and the 
 fun and queer notions in him, and what uncommon skill was in his 
 fingers. % 
 
 The boy fell asleep. She pushed on for an hour longer, when 
 her back began to give and legs to tremble. The long jour 
 neys and protracted fasting were beginning to tell on even her 
 iron frame. Nearing a wooden house whose long veranda, sup 
 ported on piles, under which a half-dozen pigs were sheltered, 
 showed it to be a planter s dwelling, she skulked behind a row of 
 china trees, past the negro quarters to the whitewashed shed used 
 as a barn. The chance of sleep and the smell of the dry, fragrant 
 husks quickened her steps ; she thrust a way for herself and the 
 boy into the loft, and heaped the straw up about them, laying him 
 down carefully. The moonlight gave her enough light through the 
 square hole in the wall at her side to untie his shoes, and draw 
 them off ; the soles were half gone, and when she tried to pull off 
 the tattered blue woollen socks, they clung tight with matted blood 
 to his swollen feet. The child started awake with a groan. 
 
 " You didn t tell me of this, Tom," turning the cold, little lumps 
 of bleeding flesh over in her hands, holding them up to her breast. 
 "You trudged along all day," looking at him and them with her 
 mother s eyes. " I never kerried you till to-night." 
 
 " I se not goin to have him think me a whimperin fellah when 
 we find him. Keep de shoes off, mammy. Dey burns like fire," 
 his head falling on the straw again, watching her with heavy eyes. 
 
 Anny was a thrifty body; at home in her garret room ehe had a 
 shelf of bottles of herb lotions, goose oil, mixtures for colds, for 
 the use of the family; but now, left alone, she had not a rag or 
 drop of warm water to wash the torn, burning little feet of her 
 child, in her hands. Nothing in her slavery, nothing in her vain 
 desperate search had hurt her as did that little trifle ; she laid them 
 softly down, getting up gently, so as not to wake the boy. But 
 his big, hazel eyes she found were still fixed on her, with an unrea 
 soning stare she fancied, rather than the ordinary watch they kept 
 on her face, in which a laugh seemed always to wait. She called 
 him : " Tom ! " He answered with a foolish laugh. She put her 
 hand on his cheek it was burning and dry ; the breath came with 
 slow, hoarse respirations. 
 
 She turned sharply and went to the barn-door. " He s worn-out. 
 I ve killed him ! " she said, in a shrill, stern voice. She stopped 
 to draw one or tw<: choking breaths, and then crossed the 
 yard to a pump, making no effort at concealment, and drew a 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 269 
 
 gourd-full of water, which she carried back to the barn, bathing his 
 feet with it. She hardly looked up when steps followed her, and 
 presently the sound of negroes voices was heard outside, and, after 
 a mumbled whispering, a gray-headed old man thrust his black face 
 in at the window. 
 
 " Whe s you am, woman ? Whar you from ? What ails dat ar 
 chile, hi?" 
 
 "I m off the Fairview place. Come here. Hold up his head." 
 
 He obeyed her, scrambling in at the window, followed by a half- 
 grown lad, who stood apart while the old man lifted the boy, opened 
 his jacket, and felt the pulse in his throat, holding his head criti 
 cally to one side with half shut eyes. " Dat chile wants somefin to 
 eat " sententiously " and a night s sleep. Dat feber s no count. 
 It ll spend itself by mornin ." 
 
 She had gathered Tom up to her breast. "Eh, dah you think 
 so ? " her dry hot eyes fixed on the old man s face. " Mebbe it s 
 so. We ve lived on parched corn and berries for ten days. I 
 tought I d killed him." 
 
 The boy by the window muttered something, and went headlong 
 down the ladder. In five minutes he was back with a bundle of 
 roasted yams, hot out of the ashes from some of the cabins, where 
 they had been ready for the midnight meal, of which the negroes 
 are so fond. In the other hand he carried a jug of milk. Anny 
 fed the boy herself, while the others broke the yams in small pieces, 
 the two black faces bent anxiously over her. 
 
 " I think you saves his life," she said, breathlessly watching the 
 little jaws work feebly and the old, pleased light come into his 
 eyes. 
 
 " You m refugee ? " ventured the old man, with a keen look. 
 " Dar s no need ob fear ob us. Dey come long hyur, night afer 
 night, fleein , fleein . Seems s if de day ob de Lord s a dawnin . But 
 you wos gwine de wrong way, Missy; you s back wur to de Norf. 
 We seed you on de road." 
 
 The woman, who had laid Tom s head on. her lap and covered 
 him for his sleep, looked up, bewildered, from the yam, which she 
 was eating ravenously. " How ken I tell which is de norf or which 
 de souf ? We s been trabellin , trabellin , Tom an me, for many 
 months, here and there, trough de mountains and cross ob de 
 ribers, widout rest, night an day. Once we wur put in de cala 
 boose, an twice I was caught an lashed ; but we got off. Seems as 
 ef our journey never ud end. Dar s one mountain passed and 
 anudder risin jest beyond, and dar s one army marchen to-day, an 
 anudder approachin to-morrow, an us hidin an hidin , an no word 
 comin of dat which we seek." 
 
 " Dat s yer freedom, like ? " he hesitated. 
 
 " I se de woman of an hostler of Mass Jeems Sterbling." she 
 
270 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 said, " an dis is his boy. We s goin to find him, an lib togeder 
 once fore we die." 
 
 " Strebling s place is in Morgan county," with finger on his chin. 
 " You se a long way off, Missy." 
 
 "We s bin dar, but he d gone." 
 
 " Shore as you lib, woman, he s jined a gang an gone inter a 
 Yankee camp. Dat s yer course. Dese refugees keep a count ob 
 each oder. Dar s a camp ten miles farder up de riber. You push 
 on t dat pint arly in de mornin . Wur a gang ob refugees went on 
 dar yesterday. Dey le have news ob yer man." 
 
 "Ten miles?" 
 
 " Straight on de riber track. I bet you you find yer man dar." 
 
 " Yer d best lose no time, Missy," said the boy, " dar s de word 
 kum to-night dat de Yankee troops is gwine to be called out ob dis 
 part ob de country immediate, an de cullored people s makin ready 
 to foller dem." 
 
 " Wher s does they go ? " with a bewildered glance over the great 
 stretch of rnist-covered mountains and valleys. " They s off planta 
 tions, like me, an knows nothin . Wher s does they stop ? " 
 
 " De Lo d save you, woman, dey goes Norf ! " the old man ejac 
 ulated, with a smothered ya-ha at her ignorance. " It s ready for 
 dom, dar. Dar s no more pickin cotton, or totin de bar ls. It s de 
 day ob Jubilee. Dey s moughty glad to see dem, dar, wid dere 
 chains knocked off. Now you go to sleep. Ise d go wid you, to 
 morrow, but I kent leab ole Missus, in de house dar. She s alone." 
 
 The boy stopped at the head of the ladder. " Ise ll call you fore 
 day. Dem troops is movin soon. You d best lose no time." 
 
 "An hour s sleep that s nuff." She sat up uneasily looking 
 after them ; half rose once or twice to pick up the boy and go on 
 without delay; but while she hesitated she slid down gradually on 
 the straw beside him and slept heavily, till dawn was breaking, and 
 the boy Pete shook her by the shoulder. 
 
 " It s time you wur off, Missy. Is e brought you yer broakset, 
 an hyur s some yams in dis cloth ; dey s off my own patch. Does 
 yer hev to kerry dat young un ? " 
 
 Tom had scrambled sturdily to his feet, but the blood oozed out 
 on the straw, and he sat down, gritting his teeth with pain. " Yer 
 cant do it, Mammy. Ise ll stay hyur. Yer kin come back for me. 
 I se don t want to be kerried like a baby when we find him." 
 
 Anny laughed ; her nap had brought back her hearty, strong 
 laugh again. " It s only ten miles farder, Tom. What s that ? " 
 climbing down the ladder, and taking Tom on her back. 
 
 " It s a long stretch, wid dat boy for weight," said Pete, " an de 
 road s heaby. You d best leab yer bundle. Ise ll keep it safe." 
 
 " No," sharply, thrusting it under her arm. " That s important. 
 Bid Peter good-by, like a gentl man, Tom," standing gravely still 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 271 
 
 while Tom touched his hat over her shoulder, winding up by a seiies 
 of boyish nods, and winks, and chuckles, to pay himself for the 
 drill. She left a message for the old man, with a slight affectation 
 of matronly dignity, and then struck down into the road which was 
 yet gray with the wet fog. Tom s head soon dropped on her 
 shoulder; the sleeping little body was a dead weight -, the clay be 
 came mire that clung to her feet and pulled her back; the ten 
 miles lengthened indefinitely. The negroes in the fields (for she 
 did not hesitate to stop and ask direction of them) placed the 
 Yankee camp now fifteen, now twenty miles beyond, first on one 
 side of the river, then on the other. 
 
 As day dawned, and the sun came out hotly, she left the main 
 road and pushed her way slowly through the underbrush by the 
 river, to avoid the chance white passengers that she would meet, 
 glancing from side to side in fear of the moccasin or rattlesnakes 
 which came out to bask along the water ledges, and stopping now 
 and then to pick out the ticks that left their poisoned trails across 
 her strained feet. Once or twice she looked doubtfully at the 
 bundle, as if tempted to rid herself of the additional weight, every 
 ounce of which told now on her failing strength ; but she slung it 
 to the other side, and struggled on. 
 
 " You won t give dat up, Mammy ? No ? " said Tom, eagerly, 
 for he was awake and watching, as usual, her every look and turn. 
 
 " No, Tom. I se don t want the father to think we se filthy an 
 no account when we finds him. It s bin three years I se saved the 
 money fur them clo s, an we ll put em on when we se nigh camp. 
 It ll not be long now, please God," shading her eyes with her hand 
 to scan the sun-lighted heights beyond the river, the breath coming 
 slowly through her weighted lungs. 
 
 " Tell me a story," said Tom. " Tell me whar we ll go when we 
 find him." 
 
 She laughed, and took a quicker step or two, shifting him lightly 
 on her shoulder. " Now you ve heerd that a hunderd times, 
 Tom." 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 She went on, well pleased. " Well, Tom, yer father he ll get a 
 house, I don t know where. But it ll be ours his an mine," her 
 mouth shutting firmly. 
 
 " Whar ll you get the money to pay for it ? Heh, Mammy ! " 
 
 " They pay ther* for work. I want you to take account of this 
 hyur, I tell you, Tom. I want you, if you re took back into slavery, 
 to learn it by heart. It ll keep you from bein a lazy nigger as it 
 hes me. The money that s bought them plantations and furnished 
 them houses was made out of our sweat an blood. We bought 
 them ; we paid for them. Ther s them among our people as say if 
 ever they re free they ll claim one-third the crops as pay ; an it 
 
272 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 would be but fair. If yer father an me, an them like us, hed been 
 paid for our labor, we d not have been the offscouring of the nation 
 to-day, with scars on our backs in place of the wages that s bin 
 our due." Her voice grew shrill at the last word. 
 
 The boy listened gravely. The lesson, apparently, was not a new 
 one, but the plans for the future were pleasanter. " Go on, Mammy. 
 What ll you put in the house ? " 
 
 " Money s easy made ther , they say, by them that chooses to 
 work, an Ave ll buy things like the white folks. You kin help 
 choose them, Tom. Yer father s ready at whatever he sets his 
 lingers to, in the stable or blacksmith shop," she continued, slowly, 
 " and I could earn as much, likely, shirt-making, or at doin up 
 clo s, if th other give out. Them s bin my plans. They seem 
 shore to me." 
 
 " What am I to be, heh, Mammy ? " 
 
 She stopped short in the road, putting him from her back into 
 her arms, drawing her breath short as she looked into his face, 
 rubbing her hands over his puny legs and arms. 
 
 "You? Touf n 
 
 All the hope, the hunger, the ambition which the mother had 
 concentrated during years of slavery in the poor little manikin, 
 looked out of her face at that minute. 
 
 " Ther s nothin you can t be ! Nothing ! " 
 
 The peculiar, attentive, grave look with which he had listened to 
 her a few moments before came into his eyes, but he said nothing. 
 She put him down on a rock close by, and stood beside it, her jaws 
 working nervously. " P raps you ve heerd, as I hev, that Mist 
 Flory values you among her stock at on y fifty dollars." She 
 stroked his low, protruding forehead, stooped and laid her cheek to 
 it. She did not know how to be tender enough to him. " Sonny 
 boy, yer mother knows what s hyur, and hyur," touching his head 
 and breast. " She knows what yer worth ; she s thought it over 
 night an day these many years. Ther s nothin any man kin do 
 that God hes barred you out from. Nothin . Ef the white men 
 would open the doors for ye if they d on y open the doors jes a 
 little way ! " He looked down into the muddy ground. Neither 
 spoke for some minutes. 
 
 They were down in a hollow between the road and river, hidden 
 from both by the tangled masses of undergrowth and scarlet cactus. 
 Tom held up his hand warningly as a horse s heavy trot came thud 
 ding up the road through the clay. She pulled the branches aside 
 to reconnoitre, then drew her skirt from Tom s hold. " Stay hyur," 
 she cried, breathless ; " it s Jake from the Streblin place ! He ll 
 tell me wher to find him," and throwing down the bundle, she 
 climbed the rocks up to the level of the road. 
 
 It was long before she came back, and then she walked slowly, 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 273 
 
 the skin of her face and throat, under its gay cotton kerchief, gray 
 ish red, as a mulatto s becomes under excitement. 
 
 The boy got up. " You ve heerd of him ? " 
 
 She nodded, but did not speak for a minute or two. " I got word 
 from him ; from Nathan, to you an me. It s four years since I 
 heerd from Nathan, Tom yer father." 
 
 The child took up her hand and held it in his two thin ones. 
 
 " We re to jine him," after a pause, " in a camp up the river. It s 
 three days journey from hyur, but what s that ? what s that ? 
 He ll wait for us I m shore to see him ! " She had begun to pin 
 up her skirt, preparing to start ; but she dropped down suddenly, 
 throwing her arms across her head, her sturdy frame shaken with 
 tearless sobs. 
 
 He pulled at her vainly. " You never gibed up like this, Mammy." 
 
 She stood up after a long time. " I never was shore of seein 
 him before. I m stronger for a bit of a cry. Wimmen s wimmen. 
 Come on, boy," sitting down for him to mount on her back, joking 
 and laughing as they turned back to the point from which they had 
 come, and began their vague journey. 
 
 " I ve a chance of a lift on the way," she said, presently. " If I 
 kin make the pint of a mill dat s beyond hyur by nightfall, Jake 
 11 take us aboard a scow he s gwine down with, loaden with corn. 
 It s slow travellin , but as fast as I kin walk now-a-days." 
 
 "Yer nigh worn out, Mammy," tightening his arms about her 
 neck. At which she only laughed, and let her rough, hearty voice 
 loose in a resounding Methodist hymn. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 AFTER THE BATTLE. 
 
 EITHER Jake was, for the first time in his life, before his time, or 
 they failed to reach the mill by nightfall, for they saw nothing of 
 him, and, after waiting for a couple of hours, pushed on, on foot. 
 During the two days that followed Anny gave herself no time for 
 sleep or rest. An hour s delay might cost all that she had waited 
 for, for years, just when her hand was on the goal. She never lost 
 heart, or was too tired to hum or whistle a tune for Tom, being " so 
 shor<3 ob findin him waitin just yander." A woman will make as 
 long and patient a tug in life as a camel, if you only give her a 
 kind word now and again, and show her a bit of green and comfort 
 at the end. 
 
 At the close of the second day they were still distant about 
 
 fifteen miles from the Federal camp ; the course of the river, which 
 
 they were compelled to follow, was circuitous, and delaved them. 
 
 As the sun began to dip in the yellow flood of light in the west, a 
 
 18 
 
274 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 curdling ripple was heard in the broad current behind them, and 
 Jake and his scow floated into sight, with a loud halloo. He pushed 
 it up to the bank. 
 
 " Whar you bin rarapin about, woman ? Git in hyur. Dat s all 
 right. Mass Jeems ready t help off cle contrabands ; he done gone 
 1 yal since de blue coats corned around ; reckon he s turned ab lish- 
 inist bym time he sell dis corn to dem. Kiver up, dar, I say ; keep 
 yer head down, you little nig, you!" He made them lie down, 
 covering them with the sacks of meal and fodder with an anxiety 
 that argued badly for his master s approval of the proceeding, and 
 then thrust out again into the current. During that night and the 
 next morning, Anny lay, rocked by the rippling water, looking out 
 of her cranny between the sacks at the shifting orchards, brakes 
 and woods, dyed with hot Autumn tints, which lined the shore. 
 There was not much appreciation of nature in her canny face and 
 keen eyes. She was a shrewd woman, and gifted with just that 
 bigoted, acrid affection for whatever in life had adhered to herself, 
 husband, child, or sect, which made white women such bitter, illib 
 eral partisans during the civil war. But the poor mulatto s experi 
 ence of politics and country was bounded by the Fairview sugar 
 plantation ; the Fairviews and their slaves were the sole subjects 
 of her shrewdness or observation ; she saw that the people in the 
 quarters were to their master, under all his lax kindness, sheer 
 property " paying field hands," " likely breeders ; " any kind of 
 intelligence, skill, beauty, among them had its specific value in 
 dirty bank notes ; she knew them (being a sort of nurse or handy 
 woman) in their wedding-days, in spasms of religious excitement, 
 in the pains of child-birth or death; times when Nature drags the 
 eoul, as God made it, to the light, out of a white or black body ; 
 she had time to brood morbidly over the difference of her judg 
 ment of them and that of her master. So it came that she talked 
 secretly, from cabin to cabin, with a feverish exaggeration of " her 
 people " as a nation especially blessed by God because wronged by 
 men. She had, naturally enough, that inflated idea of their im 
 portance common to children or nations held too long in tutelage. 
 She had, like all her people, a secret sense of the terrible wrong 
 done her, for which freedom would be no redress, and for which no 
 money could pay ; in the North, among the people who had given 
 their lives to free her, they would surely be welcomed with out- 
 Btretched hands ; they would be given at least the chance to ir.ake 
 the best of what natural power slavery had left to themselves and 
 their boy. 
 
 But they were going North, together, with their child. In spite of 
 Anny s harangues on political economy, she was but a silly woman. 
 During the long hours when they drifted down stream, lulled by 
 the slow, rocking motion, she kept muttering Nathan s name over to 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 975 
 
 herself, hugging Tom s hands to Jier mouth and throat. BeLig a 
 woman, too, it was less of her people s destiny that she thought than 
 of the house of which Tom had heard a hundred times. Tom was not 
 so curious or childish about it as she ; she knew the dimensions of the 
 little parlor and bedroom and kitchen, as if she had seen them with 
 her eyes ; she had planned the pattern of the rag-carpet she would 
 make, and the shelves which Nathan would put up for Tom s books. 
 Eor Tom would go to school, and at night he could teach her and 
 his father to read. 
 
 It was near noon on the next day when Jake pulled the scow up 
 to shore into a jungle of trailing vines, purple and orange, with flat, 
 broad-leaved flowers. " Time fur ye to bundle out, you two. I 
 kent git no nearer de Yankee camp wid dis scow ; ye ll hev to foot 
 it. It s nuffin but a strip, nohow," standing in the water to push 
 the boat .out after they had landed. 
 
 " What way shall we trabble now ? " demanded Tom, affecting an 
 air of mannish boldness, seeing that his mother stood stupid and dazed. 
 
 " Taint no trabblin ; it s jest a walk to the pint of yander wood. 
 Turn dat rock dar, an ye ll see de tents. Nat s dar, I reckon," 
 glancing at Anny, and then, stre ching himself on his back on the 
 hot deck, he drifted out into the stream, whistling " Zip Coon." 
 
 Tom pulled his mother s sleeve. " Jake says he s ther , Mammy. 
 It s only a few minutes now." 
 
 She nodded once or twice, moving her lips and holding her shut 
 hand to her chest as if some pain had wrung her breath away ; 
 then she took him by the hand and, still silent, began to walk 
 hurriedly up the hill. But the boy, who was shaking, ready to 
 shriek and cry with excitement, pulled back vigorously. " You 
 forgot the clo s, Mammy. He ll think we se poor nigger trash when 
 we se find him. I want him to know, fust look at me, dat s my son. 
 I want my new clo s on." 
 
 She laughed a loud, hoarse laugh ; but it seemed to bring her to 
 herself. Her cheeks grew hot, her eyes sparkled. She untied the 
 bundle of clothes eagerly, washed the boy in the warm, plashing 
 water, and, sheltered by the shadows of the overhanging trees, 
 dressed him in a suit of coarse, dark blue flannel, made in a loose 
 sailor fashion, which concealed the thin body, with a rolling collar, 
 that left the throat bare and set off the well-poised, earnest little 
 head and olive-tinged face. She had the quick eye of her race for 
 color. She tied a black ribbon at his throat, rumpled up the wet, 
 waving, black hair, her face flushing red with pride. 
 
 " You ve got a white boy s featur s, and the sorrowful eyes of yer 
 people," she said, kneeling to tie his shoes. " Now you wait for 
 me, Tom," with a girlish laugh, pitiful enough in so old a woman. 
 " Yer father hasn t seen me for years, an he used to think nobody 
 was so peart an purty as Anny." 
 
276 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 She was long in coming back ; her hands were unsteady and slow 
 in obeying her will ; she had the feeling of a bride making ready 
 to meet her husband, deepened and made intense by the pain of 
 those miserable long years. Torn was watching anxiously for her, 
 and when she came ran up, and stroked down her blue print dress 
 and the spreading white apron, but, boy-like, he made no comment 
 on her looks. She watched him, askance, as she tied a white hand 
 kerchief about her head. "Would you" she hesitated, "now 
 would you call me an old woman, Tom ? " 
 
 Tom inspected her critically. " I don no ; yer jest Mammy to 
 me ; I reckon you ll be that to him, too ; it don t matter about the 
 old." 
 
 She laughed a soft, low laugh, now. " Come, we ll go now." 
 
 The noon-light glared white into the dusty road and flashing 
 river below ; the shadows of the far-off mountains drowsed into a 
 dusty, purple line ; the bee s drone died as they approached ; the 
 gossamer webs lay untouched on the grass since the night before; 
 over the bend in the hills, where the negro had said the camp lay, a 
 flock of birds were wheeling in low concentric flight. There was 
 a curious look of unmolested solitude in the mountains and lonely 
 road, but the woman, with her face bent to the ground, and the 
 sound of her own heart beating against her strong chest, dulling 
 her ears, saw nothing. 
 
 Tom s hand twitched nervously in hers. "It s only a few min 
 utes now, Mammy. Sing so dey hear us comin ." 
 
 " I kent do that." 
 
 He glanced up at her and was silent ; did not wince, even, when, 
 as they neared the rock behind which lay the camp, her fingers 
 crushed his hand in their grasp, the nails going into the flesh. They 
 gained the rock, passed it. 
 
 Beyond lay an open field ; in the hot sunlight, the grass trodden 
 and torn up in ruts and holes, heaps of straw, of charred wood, 
 broken bits of mouldy bread, battered canteens, coffee-grounds 
 scattered over it ; under a reddening gum-tree two half-naked black 
 boys lolled. 
 
 " Is der no camp ? Is he gone, Mammy," asked Tom, shrilly. 
 
 Anny made no answer ; crossed the field to the boys. " Whar s 
 de regiments dat was hyur ? " 
 
 " Dunno ; spec dey s in de big fight yander ; dey moved day 
 fore yesterday." 
 
 The burned grass under foot, the blue, glazed arch of sky grew 
 indistinct before Tom s dizzy eyes ; he leaned his head against his 
 mother s hip ; her voice sounded loud and coarse as a man s. 
 
 "Whar s de fight?" 
 
 "Byinluka." , 
 
 " Wur thar any cullored men long ob dem regiments ?" 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 277 
 
 One of the boys ventured a guess that there were fifty mule- 
 drivers ; the other brought it down to ten. " Any ways, I seed a 
 lot of or nary niggers round, ration time." 
 
 " luka ? " She looked down to the far purple horizon line that 
 seemed to vanish and reappear in the mist of heated air ; the sultry 
 glare, the noonday silence around, added to the dull, dead blank 
 that yawned in her brain, instead of the delicious thrill and fever 
 of a moment ago. A countryman, who was picking up firewood 
 over the field, came up, and looked gravely at her. 
 
 "If you want to go to the battle-field, young woman," he said, 
 compassionately, " I don t keer if you ride in my cart ; I m goin 
 right along; though ye ll find none there but the dead; Rosecrans 
 is follerin the gray-coats since midnight ; they ve gone to Bay 
 Springs. You can ride if you like. Maybe your man s dead ; you 
 can search for him," in the same sober, unmoved tone. 
 
 " He s not dead. Yes, I ll ride, thank you, suh. Hyur s de cart, 
 Tom. He s not dead," looking fiercely in the boy s face, as she 
 lifted him in. 
 
 She did not open her lips again while the cart jolted along over 
 the rough road during the intenser heat of the afternoon, until 
 evening began to gather, and an earth-colored, sultry cloud sank 
 down heavily, flattening the sky into a plane over head, and bring 
 ing the distant hills and hamlets into sharp photographic relief. 
 
 " Like to have a thunder-shower fore midnight," remarked their 
 guide, under his breath. 
 
 Anny put her bent hand behind her ear, her eyes scanning the 
 silent cane-fields and muddy creek with something of the baited 
 keenness of a thirsty, exhausted hound. 
 
 " Yer listenin for the guns ? Battle was over last night. Price 
 moved off shortly after dark come on, and Rosecrans is on his track. 
 Them ruts is whar th artillery passed," pointing to the gashed, 
 muddy fields on either side. " They went into the fight in the mid 
 dle of a drenchin rain yesterday mornin ." 
 
 The horse had pulled the cart slowly up the slippery road, and, 
 reaching the brow of the hill, they looked down into a wide, oblong 
 plain, ridged with dark spurs of the mountains that lay in a sullen 
 bulwark across the northern horizon. Fitful gusts of wet fog were 
 driven over it through the twilight ; the wooded ravines and clumps 
 of underbrush began to lose their identity, and faded into forlorn 
 patches of shadow on the dreary flat below. Here and there a pil 
 lar of gray smoke wavered up from the forests, smouldering after 
 the shells of the night before. They got out of the cart, and went 
 down into the valley, through the clogging clay of the road, the 
 driver leading the horse, a fine, cold mist driving in their faces. 
 
 " It was through that gap," pointing with his whip, " that the 
 blue-coats come in ; they was crowded in that nick between two 
 
278 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 hills, shet in by hickory woods, when the shells began to spit fire 
 at them, and there lay Price s army before them, like a black, 
 one n din sea." The man stopped as the cart sunk into a rut, lean 
 ing his elbows on the wheel, and looking leisurely down at the 
 silent stretch of land beneath him and at the storm-clouds hurrying 
 up over it from below the horizon, like mutes to a funeral. 
 
 " That was a sight to see ! " in the same monotonous tone, " the 
 smoke and rain makin it night overhead, and the flames belchin 
 through, and the Yankees givin yell after yell, as they was mowed 
 down. You can t see from here, but them fields and woods is filled 
 with dead men, starin upward." 
 
 "Wur de black men in de battle?" asked the boy. 
 
 " They were nt allowed guns ; but there was none of them empty- 
 handed when that work was goin on." He pulled the horse hastily 
 by the bridle and walked on a few steps, then turned to Anny. 
 " You don t see that I am one of your sort? " 
 
 She shook her head, indifferently. 
 
 " I m a slave, off of Harkin s land ; I m the son of Colonel Burr, 
 in Car lina; he sold me last Spring; I ve not ten drops of black 
 blood in me; I can read better n my master; I know what that 
 there bloody ground and them dead bodies mean ; they mean that 
 the day s clarin for us ; ther s not one of them dead men, white or 
 black, that didn t write your freedom and mine with his blood on 
 the ground whether he fought for it or not." 
 
 " Nathan s not dead," said Anny, loosening the collar that bound 
 her like an iron band about the neck. Whether her people were 
 free or not seemed a far-off, paltry matter to her. She scarcely 
 heard her companion singing "John Brown s body," in a stentorian 
 voice, as they went down the hill. 
 
 There was a little hut at the foot of the hill, in which a woman 
 was stirring a pot that hung over a blazing fire. It looked cheerful 
 and homelike. Anny came into the open door and placed the boy 
 beside her. Then, without a word or look for him, she went out, 
 clasping her hands behind her, and struck through the thickest of 
 sassafras bushes to where the moving light of some torches showed 
 that they were burying the dead. 
 
 All night she searched for him. 
 
 The men, left to gather the dead, yet unburied, through the miles 
 of forest and cornfield over which the battle had raged, were very 
 kind to her ; took her with them from gully to gully, for it was to 
 these by-places that the wounded men oftenest had dragged them 
 selves, and lay now stark and contorted with strange variety of 
 suffering. When she helped turn them over, and their half-open 
 eyes met hers, the words of the cart-driver began to take meaning 
 to her. Was this price paid to give her and her boy their chance ? 
 
 Through the gullies, climbing the sharp cliffs, wading in the 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 279 
 
 creek to drag out a body that swayed up and down, half under 
 water, the cold, sleety rain blinding her until the long night had 
 waned and morning dawned. She came then into the hut where 
 she had left Tom, with her usual resolute, cheerful smile and hearty 
 voice. 
 
 " I ve seen them all," she whispered to him, kneeling down before 
 him and hugging his hands to her breast. " He s not among them, 
 Tom. There was no black men buried before I came." Then she 
 put her head down on his little knees, and was quiet for a while. 
 
 The woman who owned the hut came in, and Anny got up and 
 gravely thanked her for the boy s shelter. 
 
 " You might have thought me a drunken woman last night, but 
 I was in great trouble." 
 
 " I seen that," she said, kindly. " He wurn t in the way. He s 
 a cunnin little chap Did you hev news of his father ? " 
 
 "Not jest direct word," confidently; "but the white gentl inen 
 yander advise me to foller the army out on the Fulton road. I ll 
 be sure to find him ther ." 
 " Are you goin on foot ? " 
 " Yes, Missus, on foot." 
 
 The woman heaped a plate with smoking rice, and pouring some 
 molasses over it, gave it to her. 
 
 "I can t eat, Missus," putting it before the boy. 
 " You ve waited a long time to see yer man ? Some weeks, I 
 reckon ? " 
 
 " Longer than that," with a pathetic smile on her homely face. 
 " But the day s clarin ! We ll soon be at home all togedder," lay 
 ing her hand quietly on the boy s knee, while her eyes shone as they 
 looked out over the valley brightening under the dewy dawn. 
 
 Three days after this, Anny led Tom by the hand up the street 
 of the little town of Jacinto to a straggling wooden building used 
 as a hospital. " You keep up heart, Tom," she said. " We^re shore 
 to find him now." But her face had grown haggard and sharp since 
 that night on the battle-field. They were jostled off the pavement 
 at every step by groups of soldiers passing up and down; but she 
 pushed her way patiently, until, going through the gate, they found 
 themselves in a little box of an ofiice where a red-headed, wide 
 awake young man sat writing. 
 
 " Well, my good woman, your business ?" 
 
 " I was inquirin , suh, for a cullored man named Nathan, thinkin 
 he might be in the hospital." 
 
 " No such person employed here, eh, Captain Sands ? " 
 The Captain, a bloodless, flat-chested young man reading a news 
 paper, shook his head. 
 
 Anny s lips fell .ipart, colorless. " P raps he s among the wounded, 
 Bull ? "- 
 
280 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The clerk looked up impatiently. "No, he s not. Is he your 
 husband ? " 
 
 She paused a moment, patting Tom s head. "He s my boy s 
 father, suh." 
 
 Captain Sands threw down his paper, his round, lightish eyes 
 kindling with disgust. "Is there no shame or decency left among 
 this people ? I believe that virtue is a thing unknown to an African 
 woman ! It is deplorable in a country professing Christ, to find 
 such a condition of affairs as I meet here, James." 
 
 Anny drew back, step by step, her hand held up. "Suh suh ! " 
 she cried, " not before my Tom ! He s my son. He loves me." 
 
 " You should be ashamed to claim him," with a severe frown. 
 " I hold that this is one of the insuperable obstacles to the re 
 demption of the negro race, James. It is hopeless hopeless." 
 
 The woman looked at him, bewildered, trying to read his mean 
 ing ; she slowly recovered her grave self-possession. 
 
 " Suh," she said, quietly, " you s a young man, and yer life s bin 
 easy. Dat Lord Jesus, as you spoke of, he wud hev seen ther was 
 somethin to say on our side." She took Tom by the hand, and 
 turned to go out. 
 
 " Shan t we find him hyur, Mammy ? " cried the boy. 
 
 Her mouth moved feebly, but made no sound. At the door a 
 big, uncouth old man ran against them. 
 
 " Who s this ? " stopping short, and scanning them keenly. 
 
 " She s in search of a colored man ; her her husband," said the 
 clerk, with eager kindness. 
 
 " Name of Nathan ? " 
 
 Anny stopped, staggering against the wall. She held out her 
 hands toward Burley. The dark blood settled about her nostrils 
 and in the wrinkles of her homely face. " Is he dead ? " she said. 
 But Joe did not hear her. 
 
 "Hev you bin searchin for him ? " he demanded. 
 
 Tom s shrill, fierce little voice piped out for his mother. " She s 
 bin widout him these five years, Marster. She s nigh done gone 
 in de search. Look dar," lifting up her limp fingers and letting 
 them fall. " It s months since she s slep in a bed. Dar s nothin 
 crossed her lips to eat since yesterday." 
 
 " My God ! " said Captain Sands, starting to his feet. 
 
 " Is lie dead ? " she cried, shrilly. 
 
 " Dead ? No, God bless you. He s alive and well, Nathan is," 
 stammered Joe. " He s not just here, but there, woman, there ! 
 You ll see him Tut! tut! Poor devil!" as her head dropped on 
 her breast, and she sank in a heavy lump to the floor. 
 
 "I have some brandy it s from weakness, starvation!" said 
 Captain Sands, clearing the steps with a jump in his haste to reach 
 the house. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 281 
 
 " I d best call a woman," said James, gravely, as he helped Joe 
 lay her head straight. " Don t cry, my little man ; your mother s 
 only tired. There s a spare bed in the hospital, no doubt," in a 
 lower tone, " and we can smuggle her in." 
 
 But before they could take her into the house her eyes were open 
 again, questioning Joe s face. He shuffled uneasily under them. 
 " I ll tell you the truth," he blurted out. " Nat was wounded, for 
 he fought like a tiger. One don t jest examine the color of a man s 
 skin in the thick of a fight to see if he s the right to kerry arms. 
 It warn t but a broken bone or two. But Leftenant Markle he hed 
 a cut across the shoulder, here, and he got Nat sent with him, as 
 body servant, knowin the fellar wouldn t be keered for here. An 
 they left yesterday. I don t rightly know wher they re sent," in 
 answer to her look, " but it s to some hospital in Tennessee." 
 
 " Can we go ? " trying to sit upright. 
 
 " No." 
 
 The men exchanged perplexed glances after their prompt decision. 
 The sudden pallor on the worn, ugly face, full of tenderness and 
 patience, the signs of age in the gray hairs and scarred lines, had 
 touched them as no youth nor beauty would have done. The nurse 
 from the hospital, a fresh-skinned, Quaker woman, looked quickly 
 from one to the other. 
 
 " May I tell thee what to do, friend," she said. " I need help 
 indoors there with the ironing, and sometimes in the wards. Thee 
 shall get thy strength first, and then thee will do what thee can for 
 me. Thee has willing hands, I am sure. Meanwhile, Friend Bur- 
 ley will doubtless communicate with Lieutenant Markle, and advise 
 thee of the course thy husband has taken. As soon as he hears, 
 thee shall join him." 
 
 " A good plan ! an excellent plan ! " exclaimed Sands. " I doubt 
 not I can discover Markle s whereabouts myself." 
 
 " You might as well sarch for a grasshopper in a harvest-field," 
 growled Joe aside. " He went up in a general jail delivery of 
 wounded. Howsever, it s the best chance for the woman to do as 
 Friend Sarah perposes." 
 
 Meanwhile, Anny got up, holding Tom close, smiling with the 
 tears on her yellow cheeks. The Quaker s words were a better 
 cordial than the Captain s brandy. " Yer all very kind gentl men," 
 courtesying humbly. " I ll be glad to do what I can in de house, 
 Missus. I se counted, usual, a perty fair ironer," and went out 
 without another word. 
 
 But that night, kneeling by Tom s little cot in the clean garret, 
 she sobbed and laughed like the silliest of women. "I knowed 
 we d see him soon ! God s good. I knowed it would be soon. 
 An on the first of de year they say freedom comes freedom for him 
 and you, Tom, an for all our people. De Lord God lies seen at last 
 
282 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 what de yoke was dat laid on us, an He lies took it off foreber ! " 
 She let her head rest on the edge of the pallet. When she raised 
 it, the boy was sitting up, with the strange, grave look of inquiry 
 on his face. There was something in it she could not understand. 
 
 " What is it, Tom ? " 
 
 He turned from her evasively. " I was thinkin of dal chance 
 comin to me ; ef it would be worth anything." 
 
 " It am de chance of havin a home, an a father an mother, like 
 white, spectable boys. It am the chance of bein a good, hon- 
 noble man. That s shore." 
 
 " But I ll allays be cullored, Mammy ? " anxiously. 
 
 "What does that matter?" She sang rejoicing bits of class- 
 hymns under her breath as she undressed, and laying down beside 
 him, fell asleep long before the boy, with a smile on her face. But 
 there was none on his. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIL 
 
 IN THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 BUKLEY had underrated the importance of Markle s injury ; the 
 wound in his shoulder after he reached the hospital at Nashville 
 produced a low fever, which held him week after week, lying on his 
 pallet, without acute pain, but growing daily more bony and sap 
 less and yellow. This, too, while his regiment fought the battle 
 of Corinth, and came up to Kentucky, finding death or promotion, 
 as their chance might be. 
 
 "Look at me," he said to the assistant surgeon one morning, 
 pulling up his shirt-sleeve, with a forced laugh. "I m withered 
 into a mere wisp of nerves; I m as captious and hysteric as a 
 woman ; the main-spring has had a jar, and your drugs don t touch 
 it, Hall." 
 
 Hall took off his gloves, straightened and folded them gravely. 
 " No, I know that, Lieutenant," putting them in his breast pocket. 
 " The truth is, your symptoms are such as I have not met before ; 
 and I advise you now, as I did two weeks ago, to apply for passage 
 north, where you can be properly treated. There is a hospital in 
 Philadelphia for the cure of nervous diseases produced by wounds." 
 
 Markle shook his head. " It is too late ; I could not bear the 
 journey." After a moment s silence, spent in looking irritably 
 from side to side, he broke into a laugh. "By George, it s humil 
 iating to think a fester, left by a bit of lead, has the power to 
 change a man as no conflict of soul could do ; I grow more selfish 
 and cowardly day by day, all out of a bit of hacked flesh. What 
 of my man, Nat ? " changing his tone, " you give him a call now 
 
WAITING FOU THE VERDICT. 283 
 
 and then ? He deserves care, doctor ; good wood, knotted in the 
 growth, but sound at the root." 
 
 "The man grows better but slowly," said the doctor, rising to 
 continue his rounds. "He hinders his recovery by his anxiety to 
 return to Alabama. Sheer folly, you know; Bragg has stopped 
 our communication with the army tolerably effectually, for the 
 present, and even if there was transportation there is not likely to 
 be room made for sick niggers." 
 
 "No," said Markle, gravely. "Understand, Hall," raising his 
 voice, " the man is under my protection while we remain ; he is my 
 servant, for the present, and I desire that he shall have proper 
 attention." 
 
 " If you go North, then," said the doctor, pausing at the door, 
 " he will accompany you ? " 
 
 Markle hesitated. " There is no question of that kind," abruptly. 
 " I am not going to the North." 
 
 " Bragg threatens an attack." 
 
 " So ? Well, better be checked off by a bullet than to sour and 
 dry in soul and body, like a green, stunted apple. Um ! Here is 
 Lytle with the letters ! " pulling himself up on the pillow. 
 
 An hour after the doctor received an urgent summons to Markle, 
 and found him sitting lip in the bed, a scarlet blotch of color on 
 each hollow cheek. " I have had Lytle in search of you all the 
 morning, Hall. I want your certificate, or whatever is necessary 
 to pass me to that hospital you spoke of. I want a chance for life ; 
 I m stifling here." 
 
 " You have changed your mind suddenly ? " lifting his sandy eye 
 brows with mild surprise. 
 
 "I have reason I have reason," kicking the quilt off impatiently. 
 "How soon can I leave this infernal bunk? My legs and arms are 
 half paralyzed," stretching them out. "And to think of all I have 
 to do," under his breath. 
 
 "I think you can bear the journey better than you supposed," 
 tranquilly replied the lethargic doctor. " I see no difficulty in the 
 way of your being sent on by an early train, say to-morrow. I m 
 heartily glad you are going," cordially; " you need total rest and 
 relief from all exciting causes, and you will have them there." 
 
 "Yes, yes," with a faint smile. "To-morrow let it be, then." 
 
 " What of the mulatto, Nathan ? " 
 
 Markle started out of a fit of abstraction into which he had 
 fallen. "Nat? I hacl forgotten him. Poor fellow ! Could he be 
 removed ? " 
 
 " With care, yes." 
 
 " 1 mur"t ee him at once, then." Hall gave the requisite orders, and 
 in a lew iainutes Nathah wab broaght in and seated by Markle s bed. 
 
 He neither mumbled over Markle s altered face nor cried out for 
 
284 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 God to bless him, but sat quiet after the first glance, his hands 
 on his knees, looking at the ground; but when the Lieutenant held 
 out his hand, cheerfully, saying that his looks belied him, and that 
 he meant to cheat old Death for fifty years yet, the older man s 
 voice failed when he tried to speak, and he only nodded, coughing 
 behind his fingers. 
 
 " You don t look in the best training yourself, Nathan." 
 " No, suh, no. But I se gainin , day by day. De rations is berry 
 good, suh. An I tink lookin for ad to de first ob de year is berry 
 helpful. I hev nt seen you since de good news come, suh," his face 
 lighting. 
 
 " No. I never thought to live to see the day when your people 
 would be free. To be honest, Nathan, I have dreaded it sudden 
 
 freedom, I mean. The horrors of insurrection " 
 
 " O, dat ar, suh ? " thoughtfully, after waiting for him to go on. 
 " I don know bout dat, suh. De white people in de Souf, dey 
 want der own guver ment, an dey fights for it wid artillery an 
 Parrott guns, an kills tousands, an dey calls it war ; an Nat Tur 
 ner, he want his freedom, an he fights wid knives an pikes, an 
 sech wepons as he gets, an kills fifty odd, an dey calls it murder. 
 De black people is not revengeful, suh. If dey hes der freedom 
 gib em, suh, you ll not hear ob no insurrections." 
 
 " God forbid ! But Nathan, it was of another matter I wished 
 to talk to you. I am going North to-morrow, and I want you to 
 go with me." 
 
 The mulatto looked up with a sudden terror, and put out his 
 hand as if to draw the young Lieutenant to him. 
 
 Markle laughed. "You look like a drowning man, Nat." 
 " I se so alone hyur, Mass Markle ; when you se gone God knows 
 wher ll I turn. I find dis is a big world, suh," his eyes wandering 
 about with a vague, homesick look. 
 " But I intend you to go with me." 
 
 " I tank you, suh," slowly. " I^ut dat can hardly be ; I must go 
 back an find Anny an de boy ; Ise not done forgot dem when I 
 cum back from death s door." 
 
 Markle fingered the sheet uneasily a moment. "I ll be candid 
 with you, Nathan. It is impossible for you to return at present 
 impossible. You could not find transportation ; and even if you 
 were able to undertake the journey on foot, this State is full of 
 Rebel forces. My plan was that you should go with me to Phila 
 delphia. I will place you in a proper hospital, and when I am 
 cured you shall return with me direct to headquarters. I will serve 
 as a sort of anchor," smiling, " for you to the old place ; but with 
 out me, you would drift about here " 
 
 " Like a bit ob rotten riber weed. Dar seems to be no place tor 
 me yet, in dis big world ; I feel dat, suh." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 285 
 
 Markle did not reply, and Nathan sat with his hands over his 
 eyes. He looked up presently, with his ordinary humble quiet. 
 " M s Markle, I spec you is right ; but it s hard, suh." 
 
 "I know it, Nathan; but trust yourself to me, I will see that 
 you return when you are strong enough." 
 
 " Seems as if we wos like chil ren, allus," with a sigh. Both 
 men were silent for some time, when Nathan turned abruptly. 
 " Whar did you say you wos goin , suh ? " hastily. 
 
 " To Philadelphia." 
 
 " It s dar dat Doctor Broderip lives, as M s Burley told you of? " 
 
 Markle did not answer, but turned his face to the wall, the heat 
 fading out of it. Supposing he had not heard, Nathan raised his 
 voice slightly. "A surgeon, suh, as M s Burley an you wos 
 speakin of; I tink he wos to marry a lady you both know d ; I 
 took particklar interest in dat." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I tink, suh, when we goes dar, I ll find him ; p r aps him an I 
 might hab some words to speak to one anoder ; but God knows ! " 
 
 " You had better go down to your bunk, Nathan," said Doctor 
 Hall, authoritatively, putting his head in the door. " Jake is out 
 side, here, to help you. Your master needs rest for the journey." 
 
 When they were all gone, and the door was shut, the little Lieu 
 tenant lay quiet a long time, his hands clasped under his head, his 
 black, hawk-like eyes fixed on the ceiling, the peculiar look which 
 had come into his face at the first mention of Broderip s name 
 deepening. 
 
 After a long time, he thrust his hand under the bolster and drew 
 out a letter which he had received that morning the scrawl of 
 some old crony in the law offices and at evening dances, full of the 
 town gossip. But it was only two lines which Markle found to 
 read. 
 
 " Your old friend Conrad has met with fortune, or at least a 
 chance to catch her skirts if he make good time. Boyd, the fellow 
 who swindled him so thoroughly, has been arrested, in Philadel 
 phia, and can be made to disgorge, they say, if he falls into tight 
 hands ; so the old man has gone on. Margaret is with her father, 
 of course silent and immovable as always. O rare, pale Marga 
 ret ! " The angry blood mounted into Markle s face ; he tore the 
 paper on which her name was desecrated into fragments. In his 
 secret thoughts he had dared sometimes to softly call her " Marga 
 ret," and had blushed and shivered, when it was done, like a girl. 
 This fellow, Cropps, took it into his tobacco-stained mouth as he 
 would any public, paltry word. 
 
 Then the thought came back, that there was another man beside 
 himself who some day might have the right to call her name, to 
 touch her hand, to kiss her lips. The poor Lieutenant stiffened his 
 
286 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 weak little body on the bed and laid his arm over his face, which, 
 every moment grew more pale. 
 
 " To-morrow," he said to Hall, looking up steadily at him, when 
 they came, several hours afterward, to close the wards, " I will be 
 ready. I find my strength returning with every beat of the pulse. 
 I have work to do ; I do not think I shall fail in doing it." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 RECOGNITION. 
 
 THE hospital in Philadelphia to which Markle was removed was 
 a roomy, old-fashioned country house in the northern suburb, sur 
 rounded by thick woods and broad, green slopes. Dalton, a news 
 paper man, an old friend of his, from Dubuque, living then in the 
 city, hurried there to welcome him the morning after his arrival. 
 
 "What can I do for you, George?" he asked, anxiously, for 
 Markle s altered face, and a certain uneasy motion of the eye, 
 alarmed him more than he chose to acknowledge. 
 
 " Nothing, except to provide for my servant s admission into some 
 hospital ; he cannot remain here, and he requires immediate care." 
 
 " I ll see to it. You said you had friends here ; can I find them 
 for you ? " 
 
 Markle gnawed his lip. " No. What could I do ? I am chained 
 hand and foot by this disorder. God knows whether I will gather 
 strength in time." 
 
 Dalton tapped his rattan against his boot, only by an unintelli 
 gible glance noting the irrelevant answer. 
 
 " Who are the physicians in attendance here ? " demanded Markle, 
 abruptly, after a pause. " Is Doctor Broderip among them ? " 
 
 " I think not. I regard the fellow as a quack. You had no wish 
 to put yourself under his care?" 
 
 " No ; but I had a curiosity about the man. If I could see him I 
 think I could test him could tell what manner of metal he is of." 
 
 Dalton noticed that Nathan, who was lying on a pallet near 
 them, waiting for removal, lifted his head and listened eagerly. 
 One of the nurses, passing at the moment, stopped. "Doctor 
 Broderip will pass the hospital grounds shortly, sir, if you wish to 
 speak to him ; he rode past at early dawn, toward the Wissahickon 
 road ; it is time now for him to return." 
 
 Dalton laughed. " I saw them ; there was a party in a carriage. 
 Broderip was in attendance on a pale, high-featured girl a singular 
 order of beauty ! It was when I was crawling home from the 
 office, just as day lifted. The Wissahickon is a solitary little 
 creek," turning to Markle with an explanatory tone, " where lovers 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 287 
 
 go together, two, ever, for company ; but in this case I noticed there 
 was a blind old man with them." 
 
 Markle asked no further questions, but whenDalton was gone he 
 dragged himself through the grounds to a seat under a walnut 
 tree, close to the road along which Broderip and Miss Conrad must 
 pass. It was a clear October day, warm with golden-tinted sun 
 light, the air scented from cut corn-fields and the neighboring cedar 
 thickets, the outline of the forest trees about him defined, solid and 
 dark, upon the grass at his feet, while the flying clouds overhead 
 threw vapory waves of mist upon the sunny slopes of yellow stub 
 ble beyond, that came and faded over them, like mere dreams of 
 shadow. 
 
 But Markle saw nothing but the quiet, country road, or lane, on 
 the other side of the boundary fence beside him ; did not turn, 
 even, when Nathan limped along the path, and sat down on the 
 grass, pulling his felt hat over his restless, hungry eyes, and then, 
 putting his hands on his knees, took up his silent watch. 
 
 The day deepened into noon ; a thorough Autumn day, gathering 
 warmth and color and field-scents with every breath ; a moist air 
 stirred the half-dried, red leaves overhead, arid sent them rustling 
 to their feet. A bird, whose nest was in the lilac bushes near, twit 
 tered and hopped on the fence fearlessly, so absolute was the silence 
 of the two men who sat patiently watching, hour after hour. 
 
 At length a floating cloud cooled and grayed the noonday, and 
 just then a woman s clear laugh, followed by the roll of wheels, 
 echoed along the shady, narrow lane. Markle started, as if to rise, 
 and then sat quiet, almost concealed by the hedge in front of him. 
 The mulatto was motionless. 
 
 It was a pretty, homelike picture which the next moment flashed 
 into view; a low chaise, drawn leisurely by a pair of jetty ponies, 
 in which a soldierly, gray-haired man, in coarse, brown clothes, sat 
 stiffly erect, with a chubby boy between his knees, both of them 
 looking at the lady who drove. 
 
 Margaret. The little Lieutenant started up, his eyes on fire, his 
 cap lifted. But she did not look at him. The lines rested loosely 
 in her hand, her head was bent, listening to some jest between hoi- 
 father and a small, spare man who rode beside her, dressed in a long, 
 gray coat and shovel hat, like a Romish priest s. Her beauty 
 struck Markle as unfamiliar, with a wonder akin to pain. She 
 seemed to come into the fresh, splendid morning, and chord with it, 
 as would the final triumphant note into a grand fugue. She might 
 have been the type of the morning itself, with its few emphatic 
 lines, its depth of light arid color, its content to be idle in its 
 strength. There was a change in her face, too, which made his 
 heart sicken with jealousy; a look of dependence, of a happy sub 
 jection, new to it, as was the rose-flush struggling to her cheek and 
 
288 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 the dewy brilliance of her down-cast eyes. Her lap was heaped 
 with the feathery fern leaves which they had gathered among the 
 hills. She broke and twisted them with one hand ; and Markle 
 noted that the eyes of the man beside her rested on it, and that its 
 fingers trembled, as if even the blind matter in her flesh owned his 
 power. 
 
 Broderip was on the side of the carriage nearest to Markle ; the 
 young officer leaned on the fence, looking up at him, reading his 
 face as it never had been read before. Forgetting Margaret as he 
 looked, he missed none of the coarser-featured, talking traits in it 
 which made the surgeon s character a theme of street gossip ; the 
 cruel, inflated nostril the sensitive, indignant mouth the hint of 
 cunning and rapacity in the hazel eye. But he read more ; for 
 Broderip, unconscious of a spy, was looking at the one human being 
 that he loved, and the soul of the man broke through the mean, 
 vitiated flesh of its prison, and came to the light as a starving cap 
 tive might to his cell window for light and air. 
 
 They passed slowly, giving him time for his scrutiny. He was a 
 keen observer, apt to rely, too, on his first recognition of a new 
 character. It seemed to him that the whole life of his rival opened 
 to him in that first moment. He drew back, looking after the dust 
 raised by their wheels, with a bitter defeat in his face. 
 
 " He is a better man than I," he muttered. He had expected to 
 find him contemptible and paltry, with quackery stamped on him, 
 he hardly knew why. With his disappointment, however, came 
 secretly that healthy sense of satisfaction with which two finely- 
 tempered blades strike each other, or one man of the true blood 
 recognizes another, by the masonry of a glance, even in his enemy. 
 
 When the carriage and horse passed down the winding lane, he 
 turned to regain the house ; he had come down unassisted, but now 
 he held by the fence for support. He stopped short: the mulatto 
 stood before him, his hand dropped on his breast, his mouth open, 
 his eyes full of tears, devouring the thin gray figure, disappearing 
 in the distance, his face alive with exultation ; his voice even was 
 wiry, and beyond his control when he spoke. 
 
 " I se must go to de oder hospital dis hour, suh clis hour ! Dar s 
 a man dat I hev a message for ! " He paused, putting his hands 
 over his contorted face, subduing his voice, which had mounted 
 into a piping cry. 
 
 Markle leaned more heavily against the fence, looking at Nat, 
 who, for some strange reason, seemed to him more of the negro, 
 and further removed from the white man at that moment than 
 ever before. Some old unexplained words of Burley s, a perplexing 
 flood of intangible fancies, a likeness that escaped when you traced 
 it, rushed upon his brain, proving nothing, as he told himself with 
 a sudden shiver, as if the day had grown chilly. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 289 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Dar s a man yonder. De Lo d God lies put de lines ob his life 
 and mind togedder dis day to-day, an blessed be His name ! " 
 
 Markle stood still. The doubt which had entered in the last 
 moment into his mind, seemed to his clear sense of honor a ready 
 treason to the man who was his rival ; but he could not force it 
 down. There came on the instant the sound of a horse s hoofs 
 again up the lane. The carriage had stopped, and Doctor Brod- 
 erip rode back for some trifle which had been dropped. He 
 passed and repassed rapidly, glancing carelessly at the two men in 
 the hospital grounds. His horse was a clean-built, thorough-bred 
 mare, with delicate limbs, and head held high. It came close to 
 the fence. Markle leaned forward with another purpose in his 
 scanning of the thin-ribbed, erect figure, the marked face half hid 
 by the wide-rimmed hat: the white hand that guided the horse, a 
 diamond blazing at the wrist. Broderip, after he had paused, 
 suddenly removed the hat to push back the black wisps of coarse 
 hair from his face ; and the mulatto, as if the motion he made was 
 more than his control could bear, called out some word after him, 
 in a husky uhisper, then stopped breathless. 
 
 The surgeon drew his rein, listened for a moment, and then 
 rode on. But his figure and face had b^en in the meantime in 
 sharp relief in the full daylight, and Markle turned frowning 
 away from it with a sudden sinking of his honest heart, as if he 
 had listened to his own sentence for life read a sentence from 
 which there was no commutation. 
 
 Nathan followed Broderip with his eyes, until he reached the 
 carriage, and bent over Miss Conrad with a smile ; then he turned, 
 rubbing his yellow, misshapen hands over each other. 
 
 " Ise 11 go now, wid your permission, suh. I ll send immediate 
 for de man I must see, to come to de hospital. " 
 
 Markle, left alone in the quiet of the sunlight, with no sound but the 
 thrush picking at a twig, and a leaf falling now and then, walk d 
 with unsteady, slow steps, to and fro for a long time, with his head 
 bent and brows knitted. He stopped at last, drawing himself 
 erect, as one who had reached a decision that was final, and leaned 
 idly over the fence rails, looking down into the sunny corn-field. 
 
 But his face had altogether lost its color. 
 
 (T 
 "I ll meet this Broderip on level ground," George Markle 
 
 thought, his eyss full of sweet, healthy temper. "He has made a 
 better fight with the world than I. I ll tako no cowardly shelter 
 behind the color of my skin. I ll keep his secret, by God." 
 
 19 
 
290 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE DAWN OF A NEW LIFE. 
 
 IT was the surgeon s adopted son, Phil, who was in the carriage 
 with old Mr. Conrad; it was Phil, in fact, who had planned the 
 excursion ; he found Doctor Broderip entered into it, as he did into 
 all of his schemes now-a-days, as if they were only boys together. 
 So the lad, who was a gay, affectionate, clean-hearted little fellow, 
 was master of the expedition, and the others followed his lead 
 with the zest and keen enjoyment of silly trifles of children. 
 
 Not only Phil had noted the change in Broderip ; the patients 
 in the hospitals, Farr and Hubbard; the dullest servants behind 
 his chair, felt the difference, as they would between a day of even 
 sunshine and morbid, sultry weather. They ascribed it to different 
 causes; but they all felt, dimly, that some trammel was thrown 
 from him. 
 
 Burley had put the truth in coarse words. He had chosen finally 
 what he held to be a man s right, to love and be loved. Whatever 
 scruples had kept him from Miss Conrad, either reason or passion 
 had conquered. It was not hard to regain his old footing with 
 her father, when the old man was coDvinced of his sincerity. 
 "And I think, Margaret, we ve come to the root of the man at 
 last ; there s a different ring in his voice, and in his very steps on 
 the floor. He s thorough grit, eh ? I used to doubt it." 
 
 To which Margaret assented, but did not smile, dreamily, after 
 the fashion of young girls when their lovers are talked of. Since 
 their return, through all the Summer of pleasure and gratification 
 which he had commanded about her (for the very air she breathed 
 he would have made rare and delicate), she had felt day by day 
 the magnetic, massive force of a stronger nature than her own 
 pressing closer and closer to her. Her will, her opinions, her 
 judgment, gave way; she shrank back, step by step, paler and 
 weaker daily, her secret yet hid in her breast, before the steady, 
 entering hand that would have dragged it from her. 
 
 Between the man and woman, however, there was, except on the 
 most commonplace matters, absolute silence. 
 
 Broderip rose this morning, determined that the silence should 
 end. To-day he would be born again. He was unusually quiet 
 and composed in his motions ; but Phil s eyes did not lighten with 
 a more simple-hearted, eager smile. He went into the room they 
 called his mother s while the stars were yet shining in the unbroken 
 night, to bid her good-by. She peered into his face, moving the 
 lamp that burned by the bed-head. 
 
 " There is no change in thy resolve, John ? " 
 
 " No," smoothing the gray hair gently. She moved restlessly, 
 smothering an anxious sigh 
 
WATTIXG FOR THE VERDICT. 291 
 
 "Think of it," calmly. " I have carried patiently the accident of 
 my birth, until the best years of my life are over. It was no fault 
 of mine. It has been the old story of a dead body chained to a 
 living man. I mean to bury it out of sight to-day. I mean to have 
 a chance to breathe, and live, and love. I will stand up before 
 God like other men." 
 
 She took his bony hand in hers and held it for a few moments to 
 her wizened, babyish face. It was a rare sign of affection with her; 
 then she bade him good-by tenderly, as any mother would, called 
 him back to say it again, and to look up in his face with some inco 
 herent words of encouragement, the tears in her queer, light eyes. 
 But she did not say, God bless him, on his new path. 
 
 It was yet early dawn when they reached the little creek, and fol 
 lowed its solitary course through the heavily-wooded hills rising 
 from its edge, about which yet hung the silvery mist. Swift, cold 
 winds chafed their blood ; the sky was filled with flakes of shining, 
 flying cloud, broken from the masses which rose in the far horizon 
 in solid crimson ramparts. They were a careless, merry party; 
 sang, laughed because the laugh was ready, drove leisurely along 
 under the overhanging trees, wet with dew, or scrambled up the 
 hill-side to find scarlet and pink fungus, according to Master Phil s 
 whim. The boy was a favorite with the old preacher, who indulged 
 him in every foolish fancy. It was the first time Broderip had seen 
 Margaret with a child. There was a motherliness about her, ac 
 cepting Phil s incomplete notions with an earnest gravity, that 
 brought a smile to his face. 
 
 Then came the long row up into the lonely silence of the river, 
 the boat rippling the surface of the water into fretted silver, the 
 briery vines laden with pink blossoms dipping on either side, the 
 old man bending to his oars with " yos " and " halloos " that roused 
 the yet sleeping echoes of the hills, the girl s cheek growing color 
 less as she sat next to Broderip, dragging her hand through the 
 blue, cold water. And then breakfast, he, host of the little feast, in 
 a room with the wet branches of the sycamore thrust in at the win 
 dow, and just below, the gurgling drip, drip of a hill spring; the 
 white table with its hot coffee and waffles and broiled chicken ; the 
 old man and the boy on either side of him, each of whom touched 
 him so nearly, and the woman opposite, holding the house-mother s 
 place. 
 
 It was home at last. 
 
 Miss Conrad remembered afterward that through all the gayety 
 and novel zest of that fresh, fragrant morning, there had been an 
 absence in Broderip s look and voice of the habitual nervous inten 
 sity, an almost solemn tenderness and quiet, as if the love and good 
 ness of God came to him for the first time. When the morning was 
 over and they were ready to return, he turned on his horse, looking 
 
292 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 up into the solitude of the ravine with its walls of pines, the slow, 
 clear water reflecting the pure blue above. "I am sorry to go 
 home," he said, simply. 
 
 "You enjoyed the morning like a boy," she said. 
 
 He smiled. " A very knowing, foul one, then, coming home to 
 feel his mother s hand on his forehead." 
 
 Mr. Conrad caught a word or two without the meaning, and soon 
 after, as the wider road suffered them to ride abreast, said : " I have 
 often wondered what make of woman was your mother, Doctor ? 
 Pve always a curiosity to trace the forbears of men I know. The 
 features of character don t descend as strongly marked as in horses, 
 but very near. Now, you are like your mother, eh ? " 
 
 Broderip did not answer for a moment, then said, with a laugh, 
 that he could not tell. " My mother died when I was a boy, and 
 our family was not one who thought it worth while to preserve 
 their annals with care." 
 
 He fell behind for a while. When he rode up, his face was hag 
 gard, as if the dead body, which he had meant to bury, yet hung 
 close to him. But if it did, he succeeded in thrusting off remem 
 brance of it. Nothing should balk him of his new life. 
 
 It was near noon when they passed Markle and Nathan in the 
 hospital lawn, and a few moments later stopped at the gate of 
 Broderip s grounds, and went in to look at some monstrosity of a 
 flower to please the gardener. 
 
 Lunch was spread in the breakfast-room, for which Mr. Conrad 
 and Phil found they had an appetite, and, passing by the fruits and 
 wine, they attacked the cold meat with a gravity which promised a 
 lengthy seige. 
 
 " Remember, you come to me this evening," said Broderip, as 
 they rose at last from the table. "I have no other guests ; but I 
 have found music that will satisfy you, Mr. Conrad. The ballad- 
 singer H has promised to give you Scotch ditties until you cry, 
 
 enough." 
 
 The old man drew himself up, coloring slightly, as if the costly 
 favor irked him. " I m obleeged to you, Doctor. Not," relaxing 
 into a smile, "for the money paid, but for remembering my triflin 
 notions so long. It s onusual." 
 
 " No," gravely. " I have so few friends, I remember their whims 
 as a woman would." He had accompanied them to the gate, before 
 which their carriage stood, and stood with one hand on it, while 
 Phil gathered a bouquet for Mr. Conrad. One of the footmen came 
 up to him. 
 
 " A messenger, sir, from .the hospital in Turner s lane. A colored 
 man wishes to see you immediately. A wound, I believe, sir. 
 They ve removed him to " 
 
 Broderip s face, which was unusually gentle at the moment 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 293 
 
 clouded. " Tell him it will be impossible. I will see him to-mor 
 row. I have a capital operation at the almshouse at two o clock. 
 I would not have refused a kindness to a dog to-day, if I could 
 have helped it," at which Mr. Conrad, to whom he spoke, smiled. 
 The old man had a shrewd suspicion of what this day was to him. 
 When he had assisted her father into the carriage, Broderip came 
 back to Margaret. He looked beyond her as he spoke, and his 
 hands were nervously clasped behind him. 
 
 " You will not refuse to come with your father this evening ? 
 I there are a few words which I have wished to speak to you 
 alone." 
 
 He thought it most tender to warn her; he trembled lest his pas 
 sion should urge him to attack her with words of coarse strength 
 and heat. Beyond measure, at that moment, her nature seemed to 
 him delicate and frail ; his own, vulgar and repellant. He must re 
 member that ; he must put the very remembrance of his origin out 
 of his mind, lest it should taint his words and thoughts, and render 
 him unfit for her. 
 
 Margaret bent her head. " I will come," she said, gravely. Her 
 lips moved irresolutely. 
 
 " You said something more ? I did not hear you," stooping 
 breathlessly forward. 
 
 " No matter. Another time another time," putting her hands 
 hastily on Phil s shoulders, and stooping with pale face to kiss his 
 mouth. When she was seated beside her father, she turned and 
 held out her hand frankly to Doctor Broderip, an unusual motion 
 with Margaret, and which with her had, somehow, the air of a trust 
 given and received. 
 
 He held it a moment, looking up at her with craving eyes, a pa 
 thetic smile on the weak, thin jaws. He fancied that there was a 
 trace of compassion in the look she turned back on him as they 
 drove away. He walked, with Phil by the hand, into the house. 
 As they passed through a thicket of privet, he looked, with quick 
 ened breath, down at the boy s red lips, half stooped suddenly, and 
 then, without touching them, stood upright, coloring scarlet, as if 
 he had been guilty of a breach of honor. 
 
 An hour or two afterward, he entered the room at the alms- 
 house, where the operation was to be performed, his ordinary 
 attendants, Farr and Hubbard, behind him, George Farr pushing 
 closer than usual up to his demi-god. He never had known Brod 
 erip in the genial, gay humor of to-day ; his very dress was of 
 finer, softer texture ; the perfume of wood flowers hung about 
 him, his step was quick and light, his eye moved eagerly around in 
 search of friendly recognition. Farr watched jealously the faces 
 of the other physicians, to see how the change in his master Avas 
 received. There were several of them present ; the operation 
 
294 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 amputation at the hip-joint and the age of the patient, who was 
 a sickly child of nine years, made the occasion one of unusual 
 interest. 
 
 . They gathered about the table when the little girl was brought 
 in, leaving the space free for Broderip, whose appearance altered 
 totally, as only a man s of strong muscles and extreme nervous 
 power could do. He stood in his shirt-sleeves, the whole power 
 and intelligence of the man centered in the keen, slow eye, fixed 
 on the patient, while his fingers, firm as a steel machine, but tender 
 / as a woman s, adjusted the limb. When the child s poor, patched 
 
 clothes were thrust aside, and the puny frame and pretty little 
 face laid bare, a significant look of hopelessness passed from one to 
 the other ; but Broderip only grew a shade more sallow, and set 
 his thin lips close. 
 
 Margaret was forgotten. 
 
 There was a profound silence, as one of the principal physicians 
 applied the ether, and the surgeon took the instrument in his hand, 
 hesitating a moment. There was always this pause before he be 
 gan a capital operation ; perhaps he prayed to whatever God he 
 had for help. But to-day he looked up suddenly from the child to 
 the men in front of them. It was almost certain death that lay 
 in his hand for her in the next moment, and her life had been so 
 hard she was such a pretty, modest little thing ! The great 
 dumb part of his own life made this little stifled voice pitiful to him, 
 as to no other. Clammy drops came out over his bony forehead. 
 He took up the childish hand in his palm, looked at it a moment, 
 and then kissed her face. 
 
 " Gentlemen will pardon me," he said, gravely, and began the 
 operation. But there had been a silence like death in the room 
 when he kissed her, and tears in more eyes than George Farr s. 
 
 She did not die under the knife. Broderip carried her to the 
 dormitory, performing the nurse s part, as well as his own ; and 
 when the mother, a dumb, miserable-eyed woman in black came and 
 stood by the bed, he spoke to her in a tone that was good cheer 
 itself. " I think, madam, God will give me the little girl s life, 
 . and if He does, I mean it shall be a happy one. " 
 
 It seemed to him as he rode back with bright eyes and bound 
 ing pulse, that all things had worked together to make the birth 
 day of his new life happy and memorable. 
 
 Hereafter, perhaps, he could bring a history like this home to 
 tell to one who would care for it more than he. 
 
 From some subtle impulse which he did not analyze, he turned 
 out of his way in going home, into the region of Baker and Bod- 
 ford streets, a quarter which he had carefully avoided before. It 
 is the deepest depth of the filth and iniquity of Philadelphia. He 
 drew up his horse at the corner of Ninth and Mary s streets, and 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 295 
 
 deliberately rode from one end to the other of the latter. It was 
 going down into Gehenna. He missed nothing : the stench, the 
 rancid, broken victuals exposed for sale, the swarms of drunken 
 blacks lying on the pavements and gutters like flies in the sun, a 
 few filthy rags covering their bestial limbs, turning bleared eyes 
 and blubber lips toward him as he passed. Was it the mysterious 
 instinct of race that had drawn him there on this day, when he 
 was going to forswear it and his birth-wrong forever ? Be that as 
 it may, at any other time his fastidious white blood (and there 
 were but few drops of any other in Broderip s veins) would have 
 sickened here through every sense ; but to day a stronger emotion 
 than disgust sharpened his face as he looked at the negroes, a sense 
 of kinship and brotherhood, a fierce denial that his race must nec 
 essarily come to this if left free and unguided. His race! He 
 stopped again, looking back at these negroes as they had come out 
 of the slave pens of the South, only to find in freedom a wider path 
 to hell ; he knew that, a square or two distant, there were thousands 
 of others struggling to rise, a respectable, industrious, God fearing 
 class as any in the North, yet trampled under foot by the law, and 
 society finding in the mere color of their skin a disgrace which 
 wiiite criminals and harlots held beneath their shame. Why 
 should this wrong call to him to-day for redress, in a voice so 
 urgent and terrible ? 
 
 His puny bpdy dilated with a man s indignation from the height 
 to which he had raised himself; it seemed as if every one of these 
 black or yellow faces turned an appeal to him for help "God!" 
 he muttered as he rode away, " They have had hard measure ! And 
 John Broderip has turned his back on them with the rest, a cheat 
 and a coward ! " 
 
 He slackened his pace presently, however, scanning the streets 
 in his usual, moderate, grave manner. George Farr, who was lin 
 gering in the surgeon s room for a word, when he arrived, noted, 
 however, a subdued excitement in his voice and eye as he sat down 
 to glance over the book of entries, pen in hand. Looking up 
 abruptly, he said without preface, 
 
 "I begin to see the meaning of that old story of Jesus of Naza 
 reth, Farr, in which you put such faith. To put ease and ambition 
 and woman out of life, to give life itself for the salvation of a race 
 that was the highest manhood. But," with a shrug, "it needed 
 the strength of a God ! " 
 
 " No. The sacrifice is not a rare one." 
 
 "Eh? How?" turning on him. (Farr was the only one of 
 Broderip s pupils of whom he made a companion, because he was 
 not afraid to differ with him.) 
 
 "The sacrifice has been imitated in every age, sir ; everyday 
 now, by the men who go into the war to free the negroes." 
 
296 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Broderip wrote on in silence. When lie had finished the page he 
 looked up with absent, contracted eyes. " White men who give 
 their lives for the negro ? White men ? " he said, thoughtfully, 
 closing the book. Farr was too much used to his incoherence to 
 wonder or question, and followed him as he went silently on his 
 rounds. 
 
 It was nearly dark when he had finished, and coming out, 
 mounted his horse again, glancing at his watch with kindling eyes. 
 It was but an hour until he should see her. Whatever alien doubts 
 had tormented him to-day, with the wakening of the old blood in 
 him, had vanished. He sprang from the saddle at his gate, throw 
 ing the bridle to the groom, and ran up to his own chamber with 
 dilated nostrils and set lips. The long fast was over ; life s cost 
 liest wine waited for him ; it needed but to thrust out his hand 
 now, to grasp it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXY. 
 
 THE house was softly lighted, and filled with flowers ; Doctor 
 Broderip, coming down and pacing up and down the long suites of 
 rooms, waiting for his guests, stirred their faint, fresh perfume 
 in the air, and stopped now and then to rearrange a vine or 
 cluster of lilies whose faulty position caught his eye. The quiet 
 self-possession which often precedes a crisis in life had come to him. 
 He was dressed in his ordinary coarse, old-fashioned, gray clothes, 
 except that with an odd fancy, which might have been that of a 
 girl, the garments he wore were all new : if there were any unclean- 
 ness in the old self which he forswore to-night, he thrust it from 
 him, even in paltry superstitious symbols such as this. When a 
 quick step in the hall told the approach of his guests he turned his 
 back to the door, looking up at a picture to give himself time for 
 breath, straining his ears to catch the first sound of her footfall. 
 It was only a servant who entered, however. 
 
 " Mr. Conrad has not arrived, sir," hesitated the man. " It is a 
 patient, a colored man ; I had to promise to inform you. He is*in 
 the operating-room. He s very weak, sir," apologetically. 
 
 " What does that matter ? You know the rules," with a scowl 
 and nod of dismissal. "But stop, Robert! " as the man went out. 
 " Colored, you said ? I have an hour," looking at his watch. 
 " After to-night you will be more strict; my business in future 
 muse be kepv, out of rny leisure hoars." 
 
 He passed through the rooms, entering the little matted ante 
 chamber into which the conservatory opened, arid pushing a half- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 297 
 
 glazed door ajar, went into a long, uncarpeted apartment, at the 
 other end of which, by the bright light of a low gas-burner, Na 
 than sat, on a bench, waiting. 
 
 Broderip paused inside of the door, closing it slowly as his 
 hawk eyes scanned the figure with unusual intentnes^. The mu 
 latto stood up, smiling, and bowing humbly again and again. He 
 had dressed himself with unusual care, with a vague notion of do 
 ing his brother honor; a gaudy waistcoat and broad shirt-front dis 
 played themselves glaringly under Major Bob s shabby dress coat ; 
 the shoes were blacked until they shone again, although the bare 
 feet showed through them ; the glass earrings yet dangled on each 
 side of the thin, starved face; he held his hat in one hand, with 
 the other, as he bowed, laid on his bald head. 
 
 The room was long ; the surgeon came toward him with a quick, 
 decisive step, which grew slower as he approached, and stopped 
 some paces away from him, in the shadow. He clasped his hands 
 behind him, and stood a moment silent, then, in a quieter tone than 
 ordinary, 
 
 " You wished to see me, sir ? " 
 
 Nathan bowed again, turned his hat round in his hand, with a 
 sound between a hysterical chuckle and a ery, glancing furtively 
 sideways at the man before him. Seen closer the features were 
 unfamiliar. The terrible doubt met him that, after all, he had 
 been mistaken. 
 
 It would be best to delay to make sure. 
 
 "I se is not strong, suh, ef you ll scuse me," when he tottered 
 and caught by a table. "I se come a long way wid a wound hyur," 
 touching his arm. "It s not bin tended to so berry well. Dey 
 is nt p ticklar wid men of my cullor." He hesitated, stammered 
 and broke down. There was no reply. The stern, unsmiling face 
 before him gave him no aid. 
 
 " I se come from Alabama, suh," with a keen and bolder glance 
 of scrutiny. " When I seen you dis mornin ," gaining courage as 
 he went on, and enunciating slowly, "I tought you d not slight a 
 black man for his cullor. I sent fur you, and when you not come, 
 I find my way hyar. I tought, no matter how learned you was, 
 you d not slight a black man fur his cullor." 
 
 "You wished me to examine your wound?" slightly passing by 
 whatever covert meaning Nathan had tried to put into his repeated 
 words. 
 
 " Yes, Mars." He began to pull off his coat slowly. But with 
 out knowing it, he came closer step by step, his mouth open, his 
 famished eyes fixed on Broderip, holding his breath. It was almost 
 certain to him now that he had made a mistake. "Suh," he said, 
 holding out one hand as if begging, " I se a slave. I se bin kep 
 from father and brother, wife and child, most ob my life. I se 
 
298 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 libed alone. I se tought for many years ob de time when I d meet 
 agin wid dem dar." He leaned forward, looking into the hard, 
 grave face for answer. None came. 
 
 " I se come off ob Mars Jeems Streblin s place, suh." 
 
 There was an imperceptible shadow at the name in the baffling, 
 hazel eyes, gone in an instant. But it did not escape the mulatto s 
 watchful gaze. " My name s Nathan, suh. I se got no oder to gib 
 my wife and child," with a feeble laugh. 
 
 " You have had hard fortune, Nathan. But there are many men 
 y- who never have had wife or children to call their own," in a slow, 
 mechanical voice. 
 
 " Yes, suh, among our people. Dah s my father, suh. He an 
 old man, now," with the same probing glance. "He s growed 
 gray-headed alone n eider wife nor children. If he is made free 
 de fust ob de year he 11 be left a miseble beggar after all his hard 
 work ; and he don t know if his sons is libin or dead, to go to them 
 for help." 
 
 Broderip made a quick, irresolute motion, a spasm passing over 
 his face. " The old man is yet alive ? " he asked. 
 
 It was the question of Joseph to his brethren, as Nathan remem 
 bered with a sudden heat in his blood. "I tink he is alive," doubt 
 fully. " I ve heerd a great deal ob his work when he was young. 
 He was, wonderful handy wid de fingers; and times when I tink 
 ob his bein an old, no-account nigger now, kicked round for bein ob 
 no use, an me strong and hearty, it makes me nigh mad, suh, to mem 
 ber dat tings is so dat I se chained, as you might say, an can t 
 help him ; God knows I se willin . " 
 
 Broderip looked at the man at the ridiculous dress and uncouth 
 figure, and the simple, earnest face ; then he glanced at his own 
 person, which bore in every member and gesture the signs of 
 refinement and long culture. There was a critical, bitter self- 
 mockery upon his face. But he said nothing: drew out the 
 drawer of a cabinet and took out a case of instruments and bun- 
 dies of lint, laying them on the table. Nathan glanced at them 
 carelessly. Wound or operation mattered little to him, compared 
 to the doubt racking his brain. He wiped his forehead, coughed, 
 began again his groping, futile efforts to wrench the man s secret 
 from him. 
 
 " Pears to me, suh, if de people ob my cullor had been true 
 men dey d have righted dis matter ob slavery demselves. Dey d 
 have claimed dere just wages, and edication, and dere own kins 
 folks. De harder de life are, de more dem as am our brudders 
 counts to us." 
 
 Doctor Broderip bowed assent, motioning to him to remove his 
 shirt sleeve, and inspecting the mangled arm with careful, grave 
 eyes. When he laid his fingers on the yellow flesh, a shiver passed 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 299 
 
 over him, which Nathan noted. Was it likely that a man whose 
 trade this was should turn away, with sick, sunken hollows about 
 his eyes and jaws, at the sight of a stranger s blood? But he 
 looked beyond the surgeon to the window in the far door, through 
 which he dimly caught a glimpse of the soft-tinted lights, silken 
 curtains, and a fairy-land of flowers, and the dull amazement and 
 perplexity came back into his face ; he shrank into himself, re 
 mained silent, humble, and cowed. 
 
 The surgeon found the wound neglected, unskilfully dressed at 
 first, and refusing to heal from want of vitality in the patient. 
 He placed him on a lounge, going about the work with cold fingers 
 and a rigid, meaningless face. " You must control yourself," as he 
 unrolled a bandage, " I am going to give you pain for a moment, 
 but your life is in danger." 
 
 "I se not afraid, suh," keeping his eyes on the face brought 
 nearer to his own. 
 
 Once, during the operation, he lost sense and breath. Doctor 
 Broderip stoppedj stiff and silent as a pillar of stone, looking down 
 at him as if it were his own ghost that lay before him. The 
 strange likeness between them in that moment of quiet came out 
 clear and undoubted. The older man at. last drew a heavy breath 
 and opened his eyes. But they met only the unmoved face of the 
 surgeon, busy with his work. 
 
 At that moment there came a sound of voices in the drawing 
 rooms, dulled by distance voices with the indescribable cadence 
 about them which belongs to thorough breeding, a random chord 
 or two of music, the soft flutter and rustle of women s dress. 
 Broderip looked up quickly across the ghastly wound and mulatto s 
 body at the distant light, as if the sounds reached him from some 
 world with which he had nothing farther to do. The sounds were 
 few and trivial, but as a scattered note or two will suggest a per 
 fect harmony, they brought a whole life of grace and beauty before 
 both men. 
 
 " I se keepin you from your friends, suh," with an uneasy move 
 ment; "let dat arm alone. I se oughtn t to hev come; I wur mis 
 taken bout some tings. You ought to be in yander, pears to me. 
 
 " No, my place is with you, Nathan," his hard face breaking up 
 into a smile, more weak and pitiable than the slave s. 
 
 " You s one dat knows your duty, Doctor Broderip," cheerfully. 
 
 "Yes, I know it," lifting one hand slowly to pass over his fore 
 head. 
 
 The sounds came nearer Phil s shrill voice, a woman s low- 
 laugh. The whole outer man may be a mask, but the laugh be- 
 trays the secret; this was curiously innocent and sincere. Nathan 
 turned as he heard ii, with a brightening of his simple face, but 
 the surgeon kept his eyes fixed on the wound. Through the far 
 
300 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 door Nathan saw the boy pulling bits of a vine that hung from the 
 roof of the conservatory, and the fairest woman he had ever seen 
 standing below, waiting for them. Looking back at Broderip, he 
 found that his eyes were on her now, hard and dull. Her lithe 
 figure, in its thin, white robes, was in front of the wall of brilliant 
 flowers, her bare arms were held up, her whole action was free and 
 careless as he had never seen in her before. There was color 
 glowing through the solid ivory flesh, a tender, noble child s heart 
 looking through the pure face, waiting for the call of its master. 
 Broderip stood up, the steel probe in his hand. 
 His wife, waiting for his strong arm, for the tenderness and pas 
 sion gathered and barred within his breast in his solitary life ; all 
 his recompense waiting with her; all the world of goodness, and 
 culture, and beauty into which he had fought his way during these 
 years, waited, it seemed to him, with her on that side of the thin, 
 glass barrier. On this side, what? With the few black drops 
 that made him kin to this creature, looking up at him with a 
 brute s intelligence in his eyes the fortunes of his race. There 
 was no middle ground. Let him acknowledge the mulatto as his 
 brother, and he stood alone, shut out from every human relation 
 with the world to which he belonged. A negro no wealth, no 
 talent, no virtue could wash out that stain or put him on a level 
 with the meanest servant in his house again. 
 
 He bent to his work, his hands moving swiftly ; Nathan made 
 no whimper under the torture they gave, but his brain was touched ; 
 his jaw fell presently, and he began to wander childishly in his 
 talk. He had little physical strength left to cope with this new 
 strain. The thought of which his mind was full babbled out 
 presently. Looking straight into Broderip s face, with the recog 
 nition he had not dared to hint before, he said : 
 
 " I se oncertain, suh, if you se my brother or riot. Seems as if 
 you could nt be de lad dat rode off wid M s Jeems, waving his ole 
 cap back to me, lookin out of de stable window. It s bin years 
 an years, and I neber done forgot dat peart little chap. I tought 
 I se had found him again. Pears to me dat de disappointment to 
 night was de hardest ob my life." He took one of the surgeon s 
 delicate hands into his yellow, horny palms, pulling it with a slow, 
 hopeless motion. The surgeon drew it away with the same subtle 
 reaction of feeling that had come to him this morning among the 
 squalid blacks. They were his own. Whether he loathed or re 
 spected the black skin, the mysterious sympathy of race (as real in 
 Broderip s puny frame as the red ligaments that bound it together), 
 made it more familiar than any other; the whole bond of child 
 hood and its associations brought it close. He never touched one 
 of his own people without a quick throb of kinship beneath all 
 of the shame or all of the disgust. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 301 
 
 In the room without, Phil whistled some simple air, and Marga 
 ret, as she arranged her flowers, sang carelessly a broken verse of 
 the song a sweet, mellow little ditty, such as she might carol over 
 her sewing, or lull a baby to sleep with. It brought strange pic 
 tures, long hid in Broderip s hungry heart, before his eyes. He 
 looked at her long and earnestly, and then, with the calmness of 
 settled purpose, down at Nathan. 
 
 There was an artery which had been tied ; the ligature, though 
 sufficient, was slight ; there was a keen little knife that lay upon 
 the bedside. One touch of its blade, and his secret was safe for 
 ever. He stretched out his hand for it. 
 
 The gas light above them threw a ring of light about the couch; 
 a sudden current of wind jarred the flame, and threw uncertain 
 shadows about them. Broderip shivered nervously glanced up 
 with an oath. To his superstitious fancy it had taken life to delay 
 him. 
 
 " Let me adjust that bandage ; it binds you ? " 
 
 " Dat s so," with an uneasy shift of his body. " Kin you reach 
 it, Doctor," straightening his arm for Broderip s convenience, 
 talking on in the same drowsy, half unconscious monotone. The 
 surgeon heard keenly, and comprehended, while he untied the first 
 tie of the knot. The room directly overhead was that of the inva 
 lid. Was it a morbid fancy, or did he hear a warning cry of 
 " John ! John ! " Her childish old face was thrust like a shadow 
 between him and Nathan. His sight was clouded. He put his 
 hand to his eyes. " It was no use, old friend," he thought ; " the 
 brute is a brute still." Reason or the devil hastened to supply his 
 brain with other defence. Never before had they found it so cool, 
 alert, electric with vigor, as in that second of time, while he stood 
 balancing the knife on his hand> waiting for the flickering light to 
 grow steady. He had a right to his manhood a right. How 
 could he bring his faculties and needs into the bound allowed this 
 negro s life ? It was self-murder. 
 
 "A narrow life demands a narrow soul," he quoted aloud, look 
 ing at Nathan with a cynical smile, which faded, leaving his lips 
 blue and contorted. His eyes searched his brother s face ; he 
 remembered that it was for the last time. 
 
 A simply dull perplexed face, for Nathan was trying to under 
 stand the words which he supposed were addressed to him. 
 
 " I don t know any narrerer way of livin than in slavery," he 
 said patiently ; " dough I hadn t a hard master, suh. But it s de 
 loss de loss ob ebery ting. Howsever, I se goin back dar." 
 
 The light had steadied now the knife was firm in his fingers ; 
 yet Broderip stood dully repeating the last words. A trifle ; but 
 it kept back the last moment. " You are going back ? " 
 
 " Yes, Massa, I se 11 take my chance. I can t lib on de milk 
 
302 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 and honey hyur, while de ole man, and Anny, and de boy is yan- 
 der. If I find em I tink God is good ; but if not if so be as dey s 
 lost to me I se sees dat de best of de white men hyur is goin to 
 Car lina, fightin for my people yet in slavery ; and I se. ll gib my 
 life long wid de rest. Dah s nuffin better I kin do wid it." 
 
 The scarlet blood dyed Broderip s face and throat ; he looked at 
 his brother with an astonished doubt in his eyes. 
 
 " You mean that you you would give your life for your people ? 
 Mankind has hardly used you well enough, I should fancy, to edu 
 cate you for a hero." 
 
 " I donno, suh, what you mean by dat," after a moment s hes 
 itation. "De white men hes kep me like a brute in my life, dat s 
 clar, but dey kent hinder me from dyin like a man," turning wearily 
 on his side. 
 
 Doctor Broderip drew himself slowly up from a stooping pos 
 ture, with a heavy breath, like one awakening from a sleep. There 
 was an instant s pause, and then a slight click like a lancet or a 
 knife shut. " Like a man A MAJS", and the brute would be left 
 behind ? " he said under his breath. 
 
 Nathan, half asleep through pain and exhaustion, fancied the 
 voice was one familiar to him when he was a boy. After a long 
 while the surgeon s hands began to move about him again geuily, 
 and the sallow face, when it bent over him, was transfigured with 
 the strength and nobility of a great thought. A touch at the bot 
 tom of the maelstrom will send the doomed man to the upper life 
 again ; and that chance word of poor Nat s had struck Broderip s 
 soul out of its murderous depths into the free light and air. He 
 put his hand on the mulatto s broad, melancholy forehead and held 
 it there a moment. Nat smiled humbly, when he took it off, at this 
 remarkable token of the great man s kindness. He never knew 
 what that touch meant to him. 
 
 "What can a man do more than this, that he should give his 
 life for his friends ?" he heard Broderip say in the indistinct dis 
 tance to which all about him was dully withdrawing. " Better 
 that than wife or child." 
 
 The little man lying on the lounge roused at the words, thrust 
 ing one arm uneasily under his bald head, " It s de best work for a 
 man, I spose, suh; but, O my God! if I could only see Anny and 
 de boy agin." 
 
 There was no reply ; but the fingers at work with him moved 
 quick and deftly; the relief was soothing as an opiate; before 
 Broderip had his work done, the mulatto was wrapped in a sleep 
 heavy as death. The surgeon went through the routine of putting 
 his instruments in a case and washing his hands like an automaton; 
 then he came back, and, throwing a cloak over the sleeper, lowered 
 the gas and stood listening to the faint swell of music that ebbed 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 303 
 
 and flowed through the room, and looking down at him with a 
 smile of mastership in his hard face. 
 
 His secret was still his own his fate in his own hands. He 
 could send this man back to the hospital to-night, his quest baffled, 
 and turn his back forever on him and his race. He went nearer to 
 the door, glancing into the matted little room, walled with flowers. 
 It was vacant now; but the soft lights, the perfume, the pure air, 
 waited for their mistress, he thought. Once let him rid himself of 
 this man, and it needed but a word to bring her there, to tell her 
 the long delayed story of his love, to receive in her reward and 
 atonement. " Let him rid himself of this man" his brother. John 
 Broderip stooped and picked up the hand of the man he meant to 
 murder half an hour back, scanning it scanning the meek face, 
 with its gray ragged fringe of hair, combed smoothly down over the 
 temples ; the bent back, which had felt the lash, with his own weak 
 chin quivering, and the subtle likeness to the slave, growing more 
 perceptible each moment, in his yellow face and stooped body. Some 
 thing stronger than selfishness or pity, gripped his soul at that mo 
 ment and moved its currents, as the rivers of water flow at the will 
 of the king s hand nature, instinct, blood, what you will a some 
 thing which made John Broderip and his life and wants seem but a 
 part which he had acted in a comedy; and the boy Sap in the sta 
 bles, with his animal pleasures and his animal discontent, the only 
 real life to him. 
 
 "Brother, brother," he said aloud, testing the sound. For 
 twenty years there had been no such tie between him and any 
 human creature. He laughed as he said it an eager, credulous 
 laugh. He was not ashamed of this sleeping wretch, of the coffee- 
 colored skin and clown s clothes. They had used him as a brute, 
 but they could not hinder him from discovering what true manhood 
 was. "Better than I," said John Broderip "better than I." 
 
 How the poor devil had clung to him, too ! After this half a 
 life had gone, following up the boy Sap, with love such as John 
 Broderip s gifts or skill had never been able to buy for him. Never 
 not even from Margaret ? He would test that. At the thought 
 his very lips whitened. Could he dare that ? to test her with the 
 truth ? 
 
 There had never been a time since he had been brought face to 
 face with Margaret Conrad s blunt, truth-telling nature, when 
 this thought had not underlaid his love and passion for her. A 
 certainty that the truth would be an eternal barrier between them, 
 and justly so ; yet a mad impulse to tell it to her, which he had 
 felt for no other since he assumed his disguise. To-night, the night 
 when he meant to woo from the secret depths of her soul the evidence 
 of her love for him, when he meant to touch her lips at last to his, 
 to feel her heart beating against his own, weak and famished, 
 
304 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 which had never known the love of woman, the desire to be true 
 to her, to strike down the damnable lie in which he moved, became 
 maddening. 
 
 Why ! even this poor hostler took up the burden laid on him 
 dared, owning himself black, and a slave, to find out a heroic 
 use for his life ! He did not patch it into a miserable sham, a peril 
 ous imitation of the white man s. , 
 
 He stood looking through the shadow at the little room, the cen 
 tre of light and color, from which issued a strain of soft, enervating 
 music. Another voice made itself audible in it. Why should he 
 sacrifice her life and his own to a morbid scruple ? He was safe ; 
 the danger, averted to-night, was gone forever. Why should he 
 voluntarily drag the fate of his race upon him? Why? There 
 was no hope that she would marry him knowing what he was. 
 The instinct that held the races apart was unconquerable, and in 
 no one had he known it stronger than in Miss Conrad. 
 
 For one moment Broderip stood motionless, his back to the dis 
 tant light, looking at the sleeper before him. In that moment the 
 two paths of life opened clearly before him, and he made his choice. 
 He looked up quietly. " Better be Sap in the shambles," he said, 
 "than the trickster I have made of John Broderip." 
 
 Stopping by the lamp as he passed it, he drew out from his 
 breast the string of rose-colored shells which Margaret had given 
 him. How pure and clean they were ! That first morning they 
 had seemed fitting to her, he thought ; since he knew her longer, in 
 God s earth he thought there was nothing so pure and true as she ; 
 she had given them to him. He opened his jacket and laid them 
 in their hiding-place again, with a pleased smile, such as a child 
 might give. " No matter what color God gave me, I ll make my 
 self fit to keep her gift," he said, as he buttoned the gray coat, and, 
 pushing back the hair from his damp forehead, went out through 
 the dimmed and quieted room to find her. The little gift was all 
 that belonged to her which he should ever possess, he thought ; yet 
 he went out with his usual quiet, grave step, and head uplifted. 
 
 Having touched shore, whatever of this life s hope might be 
 
 taken fiom him to-night forever, the lie in which he had lived was 
 
 gone, and his feet were firm. Black or white Margaret his wife 
 
 <rX, or taken from him these he felt were outside trifles; in his soul 
 
 he faced God, at last, an honest man. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 ISHMAEL. 
 
 DOCTOR BRODERIP S few guests were gathered in the 
 music-room when he entered and stood silently behind Mr. 
 Conrad * chair. There were cheerful lights and cheerful faces; 
 two or three middle-aged men and women, who, having been once 
 elected the surgeon s friends, had the freedom of his house, and 
 used it as their own. The air was moved by a low voice, sobbing 
 out in a tone that hardly broke its silence a lament full of un 
 hopeful, fitful complaint ; one of those simple little airs which seem 
 to hold the sad secret of every soul, and utter it audibly. Even 
 old Conrad s blind eyes were closed under their spectacles, and his 
 clean-shaven jaws were a trifle paler as he listened. But Margaret, 
 with Phil beside her, beat regular time to all its moaning, with her 
 firm fingers on his freckled little hand. 
 
 Broderip, greeting them all when the song was over with his 
 usual ceremonious mannerism, passed her with a bow, without 
 looking up, his lips moving but making no sound. During the 
 gong it had seemed to him that they stood alone in the world to 
 gether ; that that terrible cry had torn out the secret of his love 
 and showed it to her; and his heart beat naked, feeble and 
 ashamed before her. When the necessary civil words were said, 
 and they began to scatter in groups through the rooms, he stopped 
 again by Mr. Conrad, with one hand on the back of his chair. 
 
 "A poor negro patient, Robert told us, detained you?" turning 
 his head back. " I hope you were able to satisfy him ? " 
 
 " I relieved the physical pain," in a dry, unnatural tone. " To 
 morrow I will give him more effectual aid." He took up a goblet 
 of water, and drank it. 
 
 Mr. Conrad turned quickly, and put his hand on the then feverish 
 wrist resting on his chair. " You are ill, Broderip." 
 
 " No ; I never felt stronger in body than to-night." 
 
 But the old man s blind face still turned on him with the sagacity 
 of a listening hound, lie made no comment, however, but leaving 
 him presently, went into the library, where Phil was turning ovei 
 for Margaret a portfolio of engravings, and, nodding back to where 
 the surgeon stood, whispered anxiously, 
 
 " What trouble is in his face, Meg ? " 
 20 
 
306 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Miss Conrad frowned impatiently, but did not lift her eyes. 
 " None," she said, dryly, " but dyspepsia, and the unhappiness of a 
 man who is not sure of himself." 
 
 " So ? Perhaps you are right ; you ve a keen eye, and your feel 
 ings don t blind you," with a tinge of bitterness. " You d turn 
 the black spot in your father s or lover s heart to the light as coolly 
 as that of your enemy; and your own, to be just to you, Meg." 
 
 She did not answer, but the wide mouth was set more firmly, and 
 the eyes grew gray. " I am not a hard woman," she said, quietly. 
 
 "Now that man s wiry, sharp voice to-night," continued her 
 father, disregarding her, " may seem ordinary to you, but it s the 
 cry of one going down into deep waters to me. If it was any other 
 man I d offer my help. I ve dragged in many a poor fellow ashore 
 out of the slough money troubles, or character gone or them, 
 tidin out into the black sea, away from Christ, and the under-tow 
 f\ gating stronger and stronger. Under God, I ve dragged them in." 
 
 " Why do you not offer your help now, then ? " 
 
 Conrad shook his head. " No," he said, slowly, " no," with an 
 anxious distress in his good-tempered, vigilant face. When Brod- 
 erip followed him, and came up beside them, he said nothing, only 
 laid his heavy hand on the stooped shoulder. Miss Conrad did not 
 turn her head. As she bent over the table or stood erect again, the 
 folds of her dress swept against him. When he had curbed and 
 denied himself for life, as he thought an hour ago, he had not 
 counted on the reaction of seeing her again. He stood looking at 
 her until the blood rose into her throat and face, and she turned 
 with a shy, conscious smile. His own face was grave and unan- 
 swering, his hands clasped behind him. He could have dragged 
 her up where she stooped before him into his breast, never to loose 
 her again. 
 
 "Will you take my place as host, Mr. Conrad, and suffer me to 
 see your daughter alone ? " he said, gravely. 
 
 " Surely, surely ; she will go with you, Doctor Broderip," grave* 
 ly. There was something more than the tremor of a lover here. 
 " Come Phil, let us find these people," leaving them alone. 
 
 Broderip led her across the room to an open gallery. His hand 
 was on her arm ; how white it was white. His was another color ! 
 A few hours back and this woman was as part of himself; he was 
 going to build a barrier between them which not even death could 
 destroy. 
 
 The gallery which they had entered was but a narrow porch, 
 shut off from the gardens by lattice-work ; he stopped at a door 
 opening out, and let her arm fall, shivering from the contact. 
 " Will you come outside ? " he said. " There is an impure smell in 
 doors, I fancy, to-night, and the fresh air is better for a sickly 
 Btory such as I must tell you, Miss Conrad." 
 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 307 
 
 " I am willing," she replied. But- neither moved. Outside they 
 would have lost sight of each other s face. A lamp which hung in 
 the roof above swung to and fro, in the cool night wind that rushed 
 past them through the open door, throwing broad, flickering shad 
 ows on the floor. Miss Conrad bent forward ; there was no shy 
 consciousness now in her face; she knew it was no whisper of love 
 she had come to hear ; the woman within her, whom no one, with 
 all her surface bluntness, ever had known, looked out now from 
 her strongly-marked features and gray, probing eyes, ready for her 
 trial. But the gray eyes were moist and brilliant, the lips tender, 
 the breath milky sweet that heaved her breast. Broderip saw 
 nothing more. He stooped and took up one of her hands, looked 
 at it as he might at a holy relic, and let it fall gently. What would 
 she say when she heard his story ? She was stronger than other 
 women, if love could conquer prejudice. 
 
 Then he cursed himself for the hope ; a feeble, maudlin hope, and 
 that he knew. 
 
 In the moment they were there, one or two men inside noticed 
 the surgeon s small figure as he stood in the doorway, his lean, sin 
 gular face photographed yellow and sharp against the night, under 
 his broad-rimmed hat. " A man to whom fortune had been per 
 versely kind," they said, looking at the beautiful woman beside him. 
 
 " We will go out," he said to her, in the same dry, hard tone, 
 leading the way. He did not offer her his hand; even avoided 
 looking at her again. All the hunger and passion starved through 
 his life rose in that hour, and fought against the resolution with 
 which he had bound himself, as Samson against the green withs. 
 
 There was but a low, half-moon that night, and the light it made 
 on the wide spaces without was faint, and the shadows heavy. 
 Even the flag on the peaked roof over their heads fluttered dim and 
 unreal in the grayish-blue air. He led her to an open, grassy flat, 
 where the light fell clearest, standing with his own face toward it, 
 however, and hers in shadow, thinking that she would choose it so. 
 But she sat down on a cedar stump, and drew her shawl closer over 
 her broad shoulders, turning her face barely up to his. He saw 
 there what he had never seen before. She had been inscrutable to 
 him hitherto, but he knew now that the key was in the lock, and 
 his hand upon the key. 
 
 " Once before, Miss Conrad, I asked you to listen to a story I 
 wished to tell you." 
 
 " I know," quietly. 
 
 " You know what it was ? You knew, then, perhaps ?" 
 
 She did not blush; but she pushed the hair from off her temples 
 With both her hands, her eyes avoiding his, her breath coming 
 quick and hard. 
 
 " It was in that little flower-closet, yonder," pointing to where 
 
808 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 the light and colors of the greenhouse shone hazily in the prevail 
 ing dulness. " There. I have gone into it sometimes as if it 
 were holy ground, since that night. To save me. Because I meant 
 to take on myself a lie for life." 
 
 She looked at him now. " You intended," she said, slowly, " to 
 tell me that night that you loved me. That was no lie ; you never 
 were so true a man as when you loved me best." 
 
 "No, Margaret," with a patient, sad smile. "And I never loved 
 you so well, or was so near to reaching the manhood for which I 
 have been struggling all my life, as to-night,. when I mean to put 
 you from me." 
 
 " There is one word which it is but just for me to say," said Miss 
 Conrad, earnestly, rising and standing before him. "The answer 
 I would have given you then, I would give you now. No action 
 or word of yours since ; no " she hesitated " no fact of your 
 past life can change my feeling toward you." 
 
 He made a step forward, with breathless lips, and eyes that 
 lighted dangerously, then drew back, raising his hand to command 
 silence. She drew back, astonished and pale. Whether she had 
 loved or merely borne with John Broderip, she had been used to 
 regard him as weak-willed, akin to hysteric women; but she faced 
 now the pain and decision of a stronger man than she had evei 
 known, and it cowed her. 
 
 " Do not tell me what your feeling for me was. No matter what 
 the knowledge would be to me; some day you would bitterly 
 regret that I possessed it." 
 
 She did not reply. The wind blew gustily past, flapping the 
 spectral flag overhead. His voice, strangely altered, broke the 
 silence. "I think you surmise what my history is, Miss Conrad, or 
 you would not have hastened to hold out a helping hand to-night." 
 
 "I do, Doctor Broderip," in a low voice. "I have done so since 
 I first knew you. I think that at one time in your life you com 
 mitted a crime. There have been times when I knew the story 
 was on your lips to tell me. I always knew that the day would 
 come when you would trust me, and I should hear it." She held 
 out her hands, looking up at him. He took them ; they slept in 
 his with an utter quiet and trust; he stooped, his hot breath 
 touched her forehead. 
 
 "Margaret, if I came to you now, guilty, you would not take 
 your hands from mine? Stay," when she would have spoken. 
 "Think one moment before you answer me." 
 
 Because she saw in his face that the decisive moment of life for 
 both of them had come, Miss Conrad s breath grew cool and even, 
 and she met his eye with the straightforward bluntness of a man. 
 When the time comes for her to die it is probable she will be most 
 moderate and composed. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 309 
 
 "I am no judge. Whether I loved or pitied a man, no guilt of 
 his would change me," she said; then stopping a moment, she 
 added, as if the words were wrung, from her lips one by one, " If 1^ 
 had heen a man, and that side of my nature which has been kept 
 hidden had been brought into temptation, Doctor Broderip, there 
 is no crime which I could not have committed. None." 
 
 Her pure, noble face grew colorless as she said it, and she struck 
 her breast as if she would have bared to him whatever foul possi 
 bilities lay there, known only to God and herself. 
 
 He stood looking down at her, the pale, austere face in the 
 shadow of the broad shovel hat he wore. " You are honester than 
 other women, and stronger. Your strength has made me fancy 
 that you would break down the barrier between us. But that was 
 folly. You will at least speak truth to me." 
 
 She put her hand up to her dry lips. " I will speak the truth. 
 What is the barrier?" 
 
 His self-control curiously returned to him. " Come with me, I 
 have something to show you. I will tell you as we go," bending 
 courteously as he walked beside her along the narrow path. 
 
 " I have committed no crime, Miss Conrad. My fault lies in 
 that I was born below the level of humanity. What other men 
 do from belief in God, I did to raise myself to their starting-point. 
 I have worked hard to keep myself clean. I hoped," with a bitter 
 laugh, " to slough off the animal some day, and bring the man out 
 from it." 
 
 " There is no poverty of birth, nor hereditary vice which could 
 warrant such words," she said, sharply. 
 
 Broderip smiled. They stopped at a door leading into the oper 
 ating-room. He opened it. Nat lay asleep under the dully-burn 
 ing gas-light. 
 
 He looked at her, drawing a long breath, as a man might who 
 turns from the shore, and goes down into the unknown sea never to 
 return. 
 
 " It was a poor birth, yes. But there was no hereditary vice. 
 My parents were clean, honest, pious Methodists. But they were 
 black. The man lying yonder is my brother." He stopped, rais 
 ing his hand to his forehead. " What he is, Miss Conrad, I am. 
 On the first of the year, a freed slave. Nothing more." 
 
 She neither spoke nor moved; although she stood close beside 
 him, her face was hidden from him by her position. He waited ; 
 the folds of her dress and heavy shawl were still as if she had been 
 a statue. 
 
 " Margaret ! " 
 
 He laid his hand on hers, which hung by her side. It was cold ; 
 a shiver crept over her powerful frame as he touched her. When 
 she turned her head, her eyes were dull, and her face stony. 
 
810 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 The door was closed on him. 
 
 " Nathan ! Nathan ! " he cried, in a shrill, rasping voice. " I 
 have my brother, I have my own people ! " fiercely pushing down 
 her hand that grasped him. "I would have married you if you 
 had been a fiend from hell ! " 
 
 Miss Conrad stood quiet ; she saw that she was alone after a mo 
 ment, and discerned his thin, dark figure in the dusky light, lean 
 ing against a stone wall that barred in the grounds. Whether she 
 suffered any pain beyond pity, as she stood there afterward, look 
 ing into the dully lighted room at the sleeping mulatto, only Mar 
 garet Conrad ever will know. It was a long time before she went 
 to him. 
 
 " Doctor Broderip, I promised to speak truth to you," tapping 
 gently on his shoulder. 
 
 He turned, a sad, half-smiling patience on his face, which after 
 ward strengthened into its habitual expression. 
 
 " I pray you to accept this disappointment with composure. We 
 all have some cross of circumstance to bear. I would not whimper 
 under mine," with her old motion of putting her fingers on her 
 blue, cold lips. 
 
 " You shouldered yours bravely," seeing that he did not speak. 
 " It was a man s action a man s and I honor it. But the gulf 
 between us is one which God never intended to be crossed." 
 
 Already he perceived there was the gentle quality in her tone of 
 one who makes an explanation to her inferior. 
 
 " The prejudice against the black blood seems senseless to you, 
 Doctor Broderip, but I would have to let my own out, drop by 
 drop, before I could eradicate it," with vehemence. " It is a thing 
 which will exist while the two races endure. I cannot fight against 
 nature." 
 
 " No, Margaret." It was noticeable that since he had come out 
 from his long-worn lie he had called her by her first name ; his 
 tone had been that of one who stood on level ground with her. 
 
 " It is better we should not meet again," she said. 
 
 " Yes." He looked from her down the long, vacant strip of 
 road that ran from the wall straight before him. Good God ! how 
 
 vacant it was ! And long long. Different from And then 
 
 for a few moments he ceased to wonder or to think, and stood quite 
 quiet, his mouth resting on the hand that clasped the rough stone. 
 When he looked up she was watching him, her large figure drawn 
 to its full height, her face bloodless, and her burning eyes, he 
 fancied, accusing and implacable. Was there any irreparable hurt 
 which he could have given to this strong-bodied, moderate-minded 
 woman? He put the idle fa^ncy from him. 
 
 He drew out the string of shells she had given him, holding 
 them up in the faint light before handing them to her, as a mother 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 311 
 
 might look at the toys of her dead child. " The day you put these 
 in my hand," he said, slowly, " I thought that it only needed the 
 love of such a woman as you were, Margaret, to complete my work ; 
 to wipe out all traces of the brute, and make a true man of me. 
 He paused ; there was a long silence, in which she watched him 
 with the same stunned, unforgiving stare, but his eyes were fixed 
 on the shells, that quivered and shook with a delicate pink light as 
 he moved them. " There is not one of them," in the same subdued 
 voice, passing his finger over them slowly, " not one of them that 
 has not been to me the symbol of a thousand beautiful and tender 
 hopes of that better life which I hoped some day to gain. They 
 are all over now." 
 
 He let them fall into his palm, where they shone with a soft 
 shimmer, and held them out to her. She looked at him steadily a 
 moment, and then put them back. " Let them be a sign to you 
 still. I will not take them back." 
 
 He did not understand her, but he thrust the silly toy away 
 eagerly, as if something yet remained to him. There was a step 
 on the grass and a voice humming some street song, and calling 
 Broderip at intervals. 
 
 "Where are you hiding, eh?" demanded Ottley, clapping him 
 on the shoulder. "Matters are stagnant indoors. You are going, 
 Miss Conrad?" 
 
 " It is late ; it is time my father was gone." She looked at 
 Broderip. He lifted his hat and stood uncovered. He thought that 
 she would have held out her hand ; but she did not, and neither of 
 them said a word of farewell. But her eyes met his for a moment, 
 and she turned and w r ent from them. Ottley stood rubbing his fat 
 little hands, glancing from one to the other with a troubled face. 
 
 " Can I help you, Broderip ? " he said, gently, a while after. 
 
 " Yes," in a grave, composed tone, which surprised him. " I have 
 been playing a miserable part, and it is time to lay it aside. There 
 is a man asleep in yonder room who is my brother. That will tell 
 you the whole story, Ottley. Out of regard to the old friendship 
 we have had, will you make it known for me ? I would be glad if 
 the meanest servant in my house would know my history to-night. 
 Will you leave me alone, now, Ottley ? " 
 
 Ottley took his hand and wrenched it, but Broderip neither felt 
 him nor saw him go. His eyes were fixed on the woman s figure 
 that paused in the lighted door. But without a look back-turned 
 she went in and closed it after her. 
 
 " Good night, Margaret," he whispered, and leaning on the wall 
 looked steadily through the night into the vacant road. 
 
312 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE COST OF VICTORY. 
 
 "WHAT you agoin to do now, suh?" asked Nat, timidly, liis 
 eyes wandering over the delicate china and glittering service, for 
 the brothers had breakfasted together. Doctor Broderip glanced 
 out into the pleasant morning, and back again. What was he going 
 to do ? The question was not so easy to answer. For the battle 
 had been fought ; the victory won. Now, what remained ? 
 
 Miss Conrad had stated the answer barely enough a few hours 
 before. She came down to her father in her most royally sweeping 
 purple robe, her black hair braided in a coronet about her head ; 
 but the lynx-eared old man fancied that neither sleep nor tears had 
 softened her eyes since the night before. "Margaret," he said, 
 abruptly, " I am going to Broderip." 
 
 She did not answer for a moment. "For what purpose?" 
 
 " I thought " sopping his forehead with his bandanna handker 
 chief "I thought God knows, Meg, now s the time to stand by 
 him. I reckon you have not forgotten what we owe to him." 
 
 " It is not gratitude he asks," with whitening lips, but pouring 
 out his coffee with a steady hand. 
 
 "I reckon old Hugh Conrad s face is but little known here, but 
 it is a white one, and I mean to go with him to-day to his hospitals 
 and patients. The story is public already, and there may be 
 askance looks or innuendoes from which I can shield him." 
 
 She rose slowly to her feet, the gray eyes dull in the white face, 
 
 pressing her broad palms together ; but he could not see her, and 
 
 her voice was resolute and cold, as usual. " Who pauses to make 
 
 innuendoes to a mulatto ? You do not understand what this 
 
 man is." 
 
 " Your comprehension was quick enough, Meg," bitterly. The 
 taunt fell as if on steel ; she went through her part unmoved. 
 
 " Father, it is as well this matter should be set clearly before us 
 from the first. John Broderip is the son of a negro ; there is not 
 one of his hospitals or patients to-day would open their doors to 
 him, if he assumed his old place ; there is not a club, church, the 
 atre or restaurant from which he would not be ejected like a felon ; 
 the academies of science or art, where he was a director, would ad 
 mit him only if he came as the servant of a white child; if he put 
 a foot into one of these street-cars he would be thrust out with in 
 sult. No white man or woman would receive him to their table. 
 If he married there would be no citizenship for him, no honor for 
 his wife, no education for his children. They are the one class 
 which the law and the white man are privileged to trample under 
 foot." She had laid her hands on the back of a ohair; the words 
 came slowly at the last, as if strength or reason lagged. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 313 
 
 "You exaggerate, Margaret," -said Conrad, rising. "John 
 Broderip cursed to a fate like that ! You talk like a woman ! " 
 
 " Because I have not the eyes of a man. You have been blind to 
 all that was before you. He will but share the fate of other mu- 
 lattoes in this city in all the North as wealthy, cultured, sensitive 
 as he." 
 
 " When did you cry out with pity for them before, Margaret ? " 
 
 She drew herself to her full height. " I have no pity. The negro 
 
 blood " The white, powerful limbs began to shiver and tremble, 
 
 as she put out one hand blindly, and caught by the wall. " The negro 
 blood is is abhorrent to me. I have broken silence on this mat 
 ter to-day, father, that you may never broach it again ; " and then 
 she slowly dragged herself from the room, while the old man as 
 sternly made ready to go to his friend. 
 
 "Meg s pithy," he muttered. "But, time will tell time will 
 tell ! " 
 
 John Broderip, alone with Nathan, did not need to hear Miss 
 Conrad s mapping out of his life. He knew that. The knowledge 
 and skill acquired in all these patient years lay dead weight in his 
 hands to-day. Already some whispers of the absolute change 
 waiting for him had penetrated indoors ; covert insults from his 
 servants, with a quiet assumption of superiority from the meanest 
 of them. Miserable straws he might have called the signs of con 
 tempt of the whites which she threatened. Yet the wind that blew 
 them was unconquerable and deadly. The strength and hope of 
 many a struggling half-breed in the north had withered in it. He 
 got up unsteadily, going to the broad sunshine of a window, look 
 ing back at the rooms, each of which it had been his hobby to form 
 into a picture of form and color. What should he do with these 
 treasures of luxury or art in this intolerable solitude to which he 
 was hereafter condemned ? What should he do with the habits 
 and tastes which he had painfully gained? He looked at the yel 
 low skin of his wrist with a fierce loathing. It was an iron mask, 
 that shut him in from all the hopes, the ambitions, the enjoyments 
 of other men. 
 
 Nat had shambled closely after him, in his eager wish to be 
 respectful, and sat awed and embarrassed on the edge of a chair. 
 The brother he had found oppressed him with a sense of inferiority 
 as no master had ever done. It was not Sap, from the stables. So 
 Nat s heart went back, with a fresh sense of loneliness, to Anny 
 and the boy. Broderip watched, speculatively, the bald, uncouth 
 little man, with his cowed, homesick face, who had been drinking 
 all of his life the bitter cup which he had raised to-day to his lips. 
 "How have they borne it?" he said. "They have neither phi 
 losophy, nor records of a great past, nor coherence to work for a 
 place am wg nations, as other oppressed people have had." 
 
314 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Dey s got trust in de Lord," shrewdly catching his meaning. 
 " Dar s no whites like em for dat." 
 
 " In the Lord ? " Broderip scowled up into the dark blue 
 heaven as he turned. Last night he had served this God, if never 
 before ; he had fought the good fight striven to be a true man ; 
 the result of it was that he proved his soul to be barred down into 
 an accursed body ; every means by which manhood had growth 
 closed to him. All through his educated life he had clung with a 
 childish belief to some justice beyond man s law, which should 
 give to him and his people recompense at last. Now he had tested 
 it. On this morning, when this world which he had made for him 
 self crumbled around him, no loss was so great as that of this 
 shadow to the poor gambler and scoffer. 
 
 He stood, his hands behind him, his quiet, questioning look of 
 challenge still turned to the sky, when Nat spoke to him. " D ye 
 think, suh, de Gov ment 11 give us a chance to go in de army ? " 
 
 " Of what use would it be ?" savagely. "Four millions of cow 
 ards, who have held their necks under the yoke so long without a 
 struggle, are not likely to fight for freedom now, or use it when 
 gained." 
 
 Nat drummed his fingers on his knees, and coughed anxiously. 
 " I donno, suh," he ventured at last. " Dey neber know d dey was 
 so great a people ; de slave in M s Jeems plantation neber had no 
 way ob touchin de slave in Georgy. Pears to me when dey kin 
 speak to each oder by newspapers an books, like de white men, 
 dey ll feel dere strength, an use it. Like de dead Lazarus, suh," 
 his voice rising : " him felt his knees, an his arms, an his head 
 tinglin like, an know d he was a whole man ; an den de blood 
 begin to run all ober de body, an he rose up an come out ob de 
 grave where he was buried." 
 
 Broderip smiled. "Who would have thought to find you a 
 political economist, Nat ? " 
 
 " I se much obleeged, suh," with a perplexed look. And after a 
 while, " I talked to de cullored people whereber de regiment or 
 M s Markle trabelled. Dar s a few quiet men dat tinks dese things 
 ober, an de rest toilers dem, like ign rant sheep afer de ram. I 
 tink," thoughtfully, " de reason dey don t help work for dere free 
 dom is dey don t know who to trust. Dey hears dat de Yankees 
 11 sell dem down inter Cuba, an as fur dere ole marsters well, 
 dey knows dem," with a laugh. " Dey d fight like debbils under 
 a man ob dere own cullor," after a pause. 
 
 Broderip turned sharply, facing him. Nathan bore the searching 
 look steadily. There was a meaning in the faces of both men 
 which never had been put into words. "Dey calls M s Linkum 
 Moses. Moses warn t a white man, an a stranger," deliberately. 
 " He wur a chile ob de slave woman, an he went an stole all de 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 315 
 
 Jearnin ob his masters, an den come back an took his people cross 
 de riber inter freedom. His own people, sub." 
 
 The watchful face before him grew slowly peaked and gray, the 
 delicate fingers clenched the table-edge like a vice, the thin body 
 swayed to and fro, but there was speculation in the hazel eyes fixed 
 on the mulatto. This the end of it? To leave his dainty refine 
 ment of life ; to give up Margaret, in order to become a leader 
 among the filthy black swarms of Bedford street, or of the fouler 
 hordes of Southern field-hands ? His head bent, his chin resting 
 on his breast. Nathan could comprehend the nausea, and the cold, 
 beaded sweat in the face, though he could go no further. 
 
 " I wish, fore God," he cried, " I d stayed yander in Tennessee. 
 I se only fotched y6u down alongside ob me, an what s de use ob 
 dat ? You wos comf ble and rich, and plenty ob frens; and we 
 cvullored people kin git nothin ; pears as if God and man had 
 turned agin us." 
 
 Which words were like a lever that raised the other half of 
 Broderip s nature to the surface, as he thought of them. The color 
 began to come to his skin, yellow and thick ; the brooding, dan 
 gerous rebellion of the mulatto to his eyes. He paced up and 
 down, and presently stopped before Nat again. 
 
 " Why need negroes whine for God or man to help them ? 
 White men help themselves. You see what I have made of my 
 self; any of my people can do the same." 
 
 "You wos helped; you mean to help dem?" eagerly. "You 
 goin* to fight for dem, suh ? " 
 
 " I ? I ? I cannot tell, Nathan. Sit down ; I want to hear all 
 you know of of my lather," and the two men sat down side by 
 side. 
 
 Just before dusk that evening, Ottley s brisk, fat little figure 
 crossed the verandah, and entered one of the low windows. "The 
 ramparts are scaled at last!" shaking both of Broderip s hands 
 with a nervous laugh. " Conrad is behind me. We have been at 
 the door twenty times to-day, with a dozen others. But I swore 
 I d have you out of your burrow. Chilly to-day, eh ? Heard the 
 additional news from Pocotaligo? Bad! bad! Here s Conrad," 
 stepping aside with a flushed face to make way for the old man. 
 
 " You are kind, gentlemen," said Broderip, with a stately bow, 
 his trembling hands behind him. 
 
 " Kindness is a word that hasn t much meanin between you and 
 me," said Conrad, simply, sitting down. 
 
 "My brother is here," but turning he found, with a secret relief, 
 that Nat had disappeared. 
 
 "What is the matter, Mr. Conrad?" his physician s eye awake 
 on the instant to the bilious skin, and disordered breathing. 
 
 "How can I tell? The liver, I suppose, as usual." 
 
316 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 "A glass of dry wine, now " his hand on the bell ; he stopped, 
 turning red and then pale. 
 
 " I wish you would, Broderip. I am run down, that s true." 
 
 " Where is Robert ? " blundered Ottley, as a black face appeared 
 at the door. 
 
 " Gone. The servants gave warning and I filled my house with 
 my own people. The poor fools gathered round me with an ab 
 surdly clannish, affectionate pride," said Broderip, with a pleased, 
 unsteady laugh. 
 
 "They ll have their Bruce, or their Tell yet," said Ottley. 
 W^ " Gad ! what a hero they ll make of him when he comes ! " 
 
 " I have no heroic ambitions, yet I have thought of doing some 
 thing for them. My road is blocked on every other side." 
 
 There was a sudden silence. Conrad put down his glass and 
 turned his watchful, anxious face toward the younger man. 
 
 " If they if we," his voice growing steadier, " were allowed to 
 strike a blow for our own freedom, I would feel that there was yet 
 a standing-ground, and work for me, in the world." 
 
 Ottley s tact failed him in this strait. Conrad turned away from 
 Broderip with a look of half envy. " It is so seldom," he said, 
 gravely, " that God puts such a chance in the path of a man ! " 
 
 "What chance?" 
 
 " Not worldly greatness, though that s included ; but to be the 
 leader of a great people out of slavery ; out of the ignorance in 
 which they ve been bound ! No man s work is so high as that ; it 
 would be the old story of Greatheart opening the dungeons of 
 Giant Despair!" with smothered fire in his voice. 
 
 " I have no doubt the way will be opened to you," said Ottley, 
 
 who was by this time master of the dilemma. " Strong pressure is 
 
 being brought on the President, I happen to know, to secure the 
 
 r enlistment of colored soldiers ; and some of the best men in 
 
 New York and Boston are crowding forward to serve as their 
 
 O 
 
 leaders." 
 
 " It is not their place," said Broderip, sharply. 
 
 " But there are so few colored men in your position," said Con 
 rad, gently. 
 
 ."That is true! that is true !" with a pleased flutter. "I have 
 drudged hard and long, Mr. Conrad; it is only just that some 
 controlling work should come for me, and that it should be for my 
 people." 
 
 The gulf between the white man and the black was bridged 
 over; how, it did not occur to Broderip to question until they had 
 left him late in the night. Then he wondered if a few friendly 
 , words could have so changed the face of the world to him. He 
 walked about restlessly, thinking of the four millions of wronged, 
 degraded souls, waiting for help. The work which he had turned 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 317 
 
 from with loathing in the morning seemed to him fit only for the 
 hands of the pure, holy Christ. Who was he to undertake it ? 
 
 It began to rain ; a slow, steady drizzle, blotting out the stars, 
 and giving one that homelike, indoors feeling. But Broderip 
 threw open the door into the outer air, as if stifling for breath. 
 The night and rain seemed to keep him from his work ; his head 
 ached, his blood burned hot and strong. To think of the years in 
 which his people had cried for help in vain, of the souls he might 
 have led into daylight, the chains he might have loosed with his 
 squandered money ! His old father, that he had suffered to drag 
 out his last years on the rations of a toothless dog ! If the morn 
 ing and his work would but come ! He thought, as he came in, and 
 prepared for bed, his countenance growing simple and eager, that 
 it was almost certain that Miss Conrad thought his coming work 
 as noble a one as did her father. And, after a while, lying still in 
 the darkness, with the rain beating against the window, he won 
 dered whether, when the work was done, and well done, and he 
 came back, white men would still remember their old prejudice. 
 
 Whether ? and a slow, tender smile gathered on his face before 
 
 he slept, quietly as a tired boy. 
 
 Going home that evening, Ottley took Mr. Conrad to task. 
 "Were you mad? Broderip s lungs would not bear a single cam 
 paign." 
 
 " I know it. But the plan was already present to him as 
 drudgery. I only spoke truth, when I lifted it into heroism. Good 
 God, sir, the man was like a healthy animal forced into an ex 
 hausted receiver, and dying for want of air. When he stood up 
 this morning, calling himself a mulatto, what place had this world 
 kept for him ? " 
 
 " Well, well, Hugh, have done with it ! I can t force Broderip, 
 
 in my own mind, into a negro. If I could Let s drop the 
 
 subject. Nothing has so upset me for years. I confess I have the 
 prejudice of my class. Who was that young officer with you this 
 morning ? " 
 
 "His name is Markle." 
 
 "A friend of Margaret s, eh? I fancied it," anxiously, for 
 Ottley took an interest in the love affairs of the young girls about 
 him, and was eager to see them well married. 
 
 Mr. Conrad s face grew anxious also. " No," he said, sharply, 
 " no." For he could not so soon forget that all the world had 
 turned its back, without cause, upon the little man in gray, yonder, 
 and that it had fallen to Margaret s lot to deal to him the hardest 
 and decisive blow. 
 
318 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE TRUE PRINCE. 
 
 DURING the few weeks which followed, Ottley was unceasing in 
 his attentions to the wounded young Lieutenant. He was apt to 
 hold on to an idea obstinately; and once having made up his mind 
 that Miss Conrad s and Markle s lives would run smoothly in one 
 groove, he eagerly set about clearing the way to do it. There was 
 a change in the girl that he did not like: she sat silently at her 
 work, looking day by day more sallow and old : there was a fierce 
 glitter in her eye new to it: her good-humored bluntness had 
 become bitter and aggressive. 
 
 He hinted to the young fellow (with whom by dint of his persist 
 ent friendliness he had become intimate) that these symptoms were 
 all favorable to his suit. 
 
 "Women are the most deceptive of all Nature s handiworks." 
 he said. " When the husk is roughest the kernel, maybe, only is 
 hiding its sweetness for you" 
 
 Markle smiled, doubtful yet pleased. His love, he thought, 
 should some day warm and mellow her life as the sunshine the 
 fruit, in spite of herself. 
 
 They were passing Broderip s grounds at the time : Ottley came 
 daily to drive the young officer out. 
 
 " I would give much to meet that man, Broderip," said Markle 
 suddenly. " There are some words which it would be better for 
 us both were spoken before he goes." 
 
 Ottley flecked his horse with the whip once or twice with an 
 annoyed look before speaking. " He meets few strangers now. 
 I contrived that it should be so. I want to shield him, as far as I 
 can. The fact is frankly, I never realized until in his case, how 
 deep is the instinctive revulsion to men of color whan they threaten 
 equality." 
 
 " It is damnably unjust ! " hotly. 
 
 " I know it," with a shrug. " But what can you do ? I have it. 
 I never understood either, before, how it reacts on them how even 
 our affability to a man like Broderip becomes an insult. Most 
 mulattoes, if you notice, have a guarded, morbid look as if expecting 
 a blow the next moment. Yet I never knew the Doctor so cheerful 
 or healthy in temper as now. Well," in answer to Markle s in 
 quiring look, " I suppose, because his disguise is off. When a man 
 takes up his ill fate and makes the best of it, it generally ends by 
 bringing out all the strength that is in him, like a fellow training 
 with a weight. Broderip has committed himself wholly to the 
 cause of the negroes. He has been collecting and drilling them to 
 take with him into the colored regiments which are being mustered 
 into service in Carolina." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 319 
 
 Markle drew a long breath. " He gives up all ties here ? " 
 
 " Yes. The old Quakeress who educated him, and a boy whom 
 he had adopted, he has provided for as if they had been in fact his 
 mother and son. He leaves ample funds to carry on his many 
 private charities. I am trustee. I think it cost a hard struggle to 
 part with Phil, but it was better for the child, you know. I ll 
 manage that it shall not be known at his school that he is supported 
 by a mulatto. Boys are cruel little devils to jeer each other." 
 
 Markle gave an impatient movement. "Yes, yes! But caste, 
 prejudice you see. Most whites argue no further on the right or 
 wrong of the question than to say * a nigger s a nigger. I think 
 Broderip acted rashly in cutting every tie that bound him to them, 
 and throwing his lot in utterly with his people." 
 
 Markle was silent for a moment. " I must see this man," he said 
 resolutely, " I don t think that what I have to say to him will 
 seem an insult." 
 
 "As you will," Ottley replied drylv. "I will call on my return 
 and tell him to expect you this afternoon." He did so, and, anxious 
 to smooth the way for his young friend, gave Broderip a slightly 
 exaggerated sketch of his bravery^ ability, etc., adding that he was 
 an old friend of Mr. Conrad s, "and something more, I fancy, of 
 his daughter s. It is enough as you know, to say of him that the 
 old Methodist approves him ; for he is as cleanly in his instincts as 
 one of his own greyhounds, and has as keen a scent for taint in 
 other men." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Broderip was fastening a print in its frame which had been 
 taken from the dismantled wall. He did not look up from it. 
 
 " He will be here to-day, then," said Ottley, rising and pulling 
 on his glove. "Miss Conrad has spoken of you to him, doubtless. 
 
 By the way," stopping short, " there s a curious likeness between 
 yours and Markle s characters, though he is a commonplace, out 
 spoken fellow. But the likeness is certainly there. It may have 
 been that which made Margaret so friendly with you ; eh ? So 
 friendly that I used to fancy that she would turn the heart of stone 
 you had for women into a heart of flesh. But she only looked 
 through you at him, probably." 
 
 "It is probable." Broderip turned, and hung the print upon 
 the wall again, and stood, not looking at it, but keeping his back to 
 Ottley. It was a coarse engraving of Christ bearing the cross, 
 remarkable in that the painter, instead of the usual face, had drawn 
 one homely and strong, with a man s passions, and a man s triumph 
 over passion in it. 
 
 " I thought," said Ottley, " you intended leaving only cheerful, 
 encouraging pictures on the wall ? But perhaps you have changed 
 jfour mind about giving the house for an orphan asylum?" 
 
320 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 "No, I have not changed my mind." 
 
 "That is not the idea of Christ I would give to a child," doubt 
 fully, " there is more of the man than the God in it." 
 
 Broderip smiled. "How to be a man that s what we want to 
 know not how to be a God." 
 
 Ottley told Mr. Conrad afterward, that Broderip looked at the 
 picture as if it were a real man who had spoken to, and counselled 
 him. "I always thought, if Broderip was allured into any church, 
 his fine, sensuous instincts would have led him to the worship of 
 the Virgin and saints. But the coarse reality of pain in this man s 
 face seemed to have had strange power over him in these four 
 weeks of solitude. I cannot divine what Markle s business is with 
 him, eh ? " 
 
 Mr. Conrad made some grave, evasive reply; Margaret, sewing 
 by her window, raised her head to listen, but her pale, full lips 
 were relaxed, and her unlighted eyes vaguely wandered up and 
 down the road as if the air that came to her had no living breath 
 in it. 
 
 It was but an hour or two before dusk when Markle rang at the 
 great hall door of Broderip s house. He never had known the man 
 or his home ; yet he looked about him with a sense of indignant 
 pity. Vans stood at the outer gate which they were loading with 
 furniture. The greenhouse roofs gaped open, showing the bare 
 plank shelving where there had been beds of color and perfume. 
 The garden flowers were trampled down, and strewn over with 
 straw and broken crockery. The doors of the inner rooms swung 
 ajar, to and fro, disclosing carpetless, dusty floors, staring windows, 
 grates filled with smouldering ashes. Irish porters and negroes 
 jostled each other, spitting tobacco juice over the floor, and swear 
 ing as they carried out books, pictures, statues : all the poor little 
 surgeon s household friends, dead and buried henceforth out of his life 
 forever. Admittance was not so easy, Markle found. The black 
 servant, who opened the door, turned doubtfully to a red-headed, 
 sandy-faced young man who walked nervously up and down the 
 hall, a self-appointed sentinel. " Mr. Farr, kin dis gemman ? " 
 
 " Your name, sir ? " said George Farr, sharply, " Doctor Brod 
 erip receives no patients." 
 
 "My name is Markle." 
 
 "You were to be admitted then," with a bow, motioning him to 
 a closed door. It was a long narrow room which he entered, 
 through which the rays of the setting sun struck redly : here and 
 there were piled chairs and book-cases, ready for removal. Near 
 the door there stood a table of Florentine mosaic, and on it a salver 
 heaped with trifles belonging to a lady s work-table ; the gold 
 scissors and stiletto had fallen on the floor, a heap of laces dragged 
 down over a bust of Psyche pure enough to guard a woman*s 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 321 
 
 chamber. Markle stopped short and looked down at them, his hol 
 low cheeks growing scarlet. 
 
 These were some of the petty ways in which Broderip had made 
 ready to welcome his bride : last night he had taken them from 
 their hiding place to burn, and then, with his keen sense of honor, 
 thrust them from him, thinking that he had no right to keep even 
 his memory of her sacred, and watching while a greasy porter 
 hoisted the basket that held them on his shoulder, and went whist 
 ling down stairs. He had suffered them to stand there all day 
 uncared for. 
 
 Now, Markle could not know this, yet he guessed enough of it to 
 send the blood curdling sharp and cold through his veins. Look 
 ing up, he saw the man he came to meet standing by a table, his 
 baffling hazel eyes reading his face. He waited composedly till 
 the Lieutenant came near, and named himself, then bowed gravely, 
 and with a smile of apology turned again to the man to whom he 
 had been talking. 
 
 But Markle, when his eyes were removed, drew a hurried breath. 
 " He knows what Margaret Conrad is to me," he thought, and felt 
 that he was to meet an enemy in the next hour such as he had 
 never known before. 
 
 " But I was honest in coming here," thought the Western boy, 
 straightening himself and watching his antagonist shrewdly. 
 
 The wiry little figure of the surgeon leaned indolently with one 
 hand on the table, on which some account books lay open, a bill 
 with the ink yet wet beside them, which the man to whom he was 
 talking, had just thrown angrily down; a long-jawed, long-nosed, 
 plausible fellow, whom Markle afterward knew as a broker on 
 Third Street. 
 
 " No law would sustain such a charge ! " he reiterated, in a loud, 
 hoarse voice. " It is extortion, sir extortion ! " 
 
 " Probably," said Broderip, suavely, with a quiet, amused smile. 
 "I have no objection to that term. But the law will give you no 
 help, my friend. There is no rule to limit my charges." 
 
 The man buttoned his coat with a volley of muttered oaths, 
 among which mingled a jeer at his folly in " looking for the honor 
 of a white man." 
 
 The surgeon turned sharply and met him with a cool laugh, 
 louder than was usual with hi in, perhaps. 
 
 " A month ago, Proctor, I would have had your money to gratify 
 my whims to buy a print, maybe, or a cask of wine. Now that 
 print and wines all I have are going to equip the regiment with 
 which I march, I will not spare you. It is a colored regiment, as 
 you may guess. I ll spoil the Egyptians ! " with a fine sneer. 
 
 He turned, leaving the man to find his way out as he could, ap 
 parently deaf to his muttered abuse. When his eye fell again on 
 21 
 
322 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 Markle he stiffened himself involuntarily, and drew back with the 
 coldest sign of recognition. 
 
 " Your time is short, Doctor Broderip," said the young man, in a 
 husky tone, coming forward and leaning his palms on the table ; 
 " and I, more than any man, may seem to you an intruder." 
 
 The little man opposite had mechanically lifted, and brought a 
 chair for him, the largest and easiest he could find. He was an Arab 
 in his sense of hospitality ; but he could not force his lips open to 
 utter a word. This was the man who, some day, perhaps, would 
 be Margaret Conrad s husband ; it was her love for this man that 
 had made her forbearing and kindly toward him, fancying a like 
 ness between them. 
 
 He did not hear the young man s stammering effort to be at ease ; 
 drew back into one corner of the fireplace, a thin, gray, insignifi 
 cant figure ; his hands behind him, his chin thrown up, his face in 
 shadow, but for the stealthy, passionate eyes that followed Markle s, 
 silently measuring himself against him in body and mind. Now, 
 Broderip s perception of character was keen ; he knew, at a glance, 
 the difference in power in himself and his rival. Yet a defeated, 
 shrunken look came slowly into his countenance and over his whole 
 figure, as he looked. 
 
 He was but a mulatto before Markle ; he cowed before the white 
 skin and Saxon features of the man. Poor weapons, perhaps, but 
 with them alone his whole life had worsted, soul and body hewed 
 to the ground. 
 
 His tone when he spoke was grave and authoritative. " My time 
 is short, Lieutenant Markle. May I ask your errand at once ?" 
 
 Markle remained standing ; it seemed to him that the unconven 
 tional words he had come there to say would be easier spoken on 
 his feet ; but he was miserably ill at ease, and hesitated uncertainly. 
 
 " I am aware," said the surgeon, after waiting a moment, " that 
 my brother owes his freedom to you. I am grateful to you." 
 
 " I did not come here to beg for thanks," with a slight decisive 
 motion, as if he had determined on the mode of attack. " Nat 
 gave me my life ; we re on the square. There s no relation between 
 us but that of friends." 
 
 Broderip lifted his hand suddenly to his head, and dropped it 
 again. " Your relations are with me, then ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 They faced each other in silence for a moment. Markle s enthu 
 siastic face grew red ; he took a step forward. " I came here, Doc 
 tor Broderip, to speak of a matter which lies between you and me 
 alone in life, but I would like to tell you first how hard all this 
 seems to me," motioning to the ruined home about him. "I know 
 what you gave up voluntarily rather than live a lie, and I d like to 
 Bay to you how I how every honest man honors and recognizes 
 the heroism of the deed." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 323 
 
 Broderip bowed silently, the color leaving his tight-shut lips. 
 " If you had been my own kinsman," the young man went on, 
 hotly, " I could not have been prouder than when I knew poor Nat s 
 brother had played his part so nobly. Whatever cause of differ 
 ence hereafter may lie between us," his face changing, " I wish you 
 to believe me sincere in this. I would be glad if you d take my 
 hand," holding it out suddenly. "I am going back, when I am 
 strong enough, to strike another blow against slavery, and if you 
 will permit me I will exchange into your regiment and fight side 
 by side with you. I have enough of the lion instinct to know the 
 true prince wherever I meet him," with a smile. 
 
 " Under the mulatto 1 s skin ? " But he held out his hand, with a 
 nervous laugh. 
 
 u There is no private reason which need come between us in our 
 outdoor life ? " anxiously. " None that ought to prevent our being 
 soldiers and comrades ? " 
 
 Broderip did not reply, but the kindling light began to fade in 
 his eye, and the guarded look returned. 
 
 "I am a blunt man," resumed Marklc, leaning heavily on tlio 
 table. " My course in speaking to you may seem indelicate and 
 rough, but it is my habit to be open in all business relations, and I 
 know no reason why the same frankness should not be observed on 
 points which touch us more nearly." 
 
 The surgeon looked up startled, a fierce scorn on his mouth. Miss 
 Conrad s name, even in casual mention, had rarely passed his own 
 lips ; was he to listen now to this man discuss his triumph or 
 chances with her as he would a speculation in oil ? 
 
 "I know no subject open for our argument, Lieutenant Markle," 
 he said, rapidly. "I ask no man s confidence. For myself des 
 pite of your cordial recognition there is a great gulf between us. 
 No matter what rny wealth or culture, the very pity in your face 
 defines it. I am Cainan. Eh, do you see ? " with a subdued fierce 
 ness. " Cainan ; a servant in the tents of my brethren. But you 
 have no right to cross the gulf. The very slave in the cotton-field 
 is permitted to hide his poor fancy of a home, and keep a decent 
 covering over it," crossing his arm over his chest as he spoke. 
 
 " God forbid that I should drag open your heart or mine ! " said 
 Markle, gently. " I did not come here to chatter idly of this 
 thing." He turned his black-visaged front to the window, the 
 stern eyes and colorless jaws testifying to his sincerity. " Under 
 God, nothing has taken such deep root in my nature as my love for 
 Margaret Conrad. Nothing ever will again. What a man might 
 do to win her, I would do. But," and he faced Broderip boldly, 
 " I came to ask you a question. I meant to take no dastardly ad 
 vantage of you. I came and spoke openly to you at the risk of 
 being coarse and intrusive. I leave it to your honor. If you have 
 
324 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 any hope of marriage which you have delayed in order to serve 
 your people, I will put aside the thought of her forever. I ask 
 you because I would rather learn it from you, than put her to the 
 pain of wounding me." 
 
 " You forget what I am," said Broderip, slowly. " She never 
 will be my wife." 
 
 The white man s face flushed crimson. " Then you give up your 
 claim ? " eagerly. 
 
 Theje was no answer. Broderip s figure stood between him and 
 the window, the hard, ascetic face turned toward the darkening sky. 
 
 " Ottley told me," in a rapid, excited tone, " that you were a 
 man who did not care for women. Yet it is no wonder I feared 
 you I can see what power you would have. And I m but a dull, 
 awkward fellow ! " with a nervous laugh. " All work, work, and 
 prose. But I can make her a happy, comfortable home." 
 
 Still no answer. The silence of the man brought a chilly doubt 
 into Markle s triumphant face. He stopped abruptly. After a 
 moment, he came to the window, and touched the surgeon on the 
 sleeve. " Doctor Broderip," the boy s voice had changed strangely 
 to one old and grave, " I mistook you ! You did not give up all 
 chances in life the other day? You have a claim on Margaret 
 Conrad." 
 
 " I have a claim." 
 
 "When you come back from the war " 
 
 It was still a young face that turned to Markle, but the patience, 
 the sense of irreparable loss in it, awed him in his heat, and made 
 him dumb. 
 
 "I will never return from the war," said Broderip, quietly. 
 " And I gave up all chances in this world. Except the great work 
 of serving my people," his eye lighting for a moment. 
 
 The dusky light darkened about them as they stood silent side 
 by side. The figure of the surgeon grew indistinct to Markle. 
 But he saw him put out his hands into the twilight, irresolutely. 
 
 " I may never see Margaret Conrad s face again," he said. " But 
 she will never marry you she will never marry another man. I 
 think there is somewhere a world where my color will not keep me 
 from her." 
 
 A day or two afterward Markle told old Hugh . Conrad of it. 
 " I could not say a word to that," he said. " It was as if a woman 
 had looked up, and cried for pity. Though a shadowy arm like 
 that stretched out would be no bar in my way. Love and mar 
 riage are for this world, of course. I bade him good night, and 
 came away. I hope he knew by my face that I understood him 
 I hope he did ! I m but a dull fellow with words. I will not see 
 him again till we come to the battle-field: we can be comrades 
 there with no thought behind." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 325 
 
 Broderip, left alone, stood by the window till the stars came 
 out, glittering like steel points in the dark blue. Then he turned 
 to the man s face on the wall. A childless, wifeless, homeless man, 
 of birth as poor, and skin as dark as his own, who had gone down 
 into the dregs of the people, giving up a man s whole birthright to 
 lead a great reform, to cleanse the souls of imbruted men and 
 women. By that light the mulatto of these days read the story of 
 Jesus of Nazareth. Imperceptibly, this carpenter s son, whose 
 visage was more marred, and whose life was more heroic than any 
 other man s, was actually growing a more live and kindred fact to 
 him than any of the white race that cast him off, or his brother 
 negroes yet under the yoke. He often stood when darkness came, 
 as he did now, before the coarse print, his forefinger on it, his eyes 
 contracted on the face, asking it questions through the shadows .of 
 eighteen centuries ; his eyes contracted, and wet sometimes, as no 
 human being had ever seen them, asking, as of one who had borne - 
 it, " Was it an easy thing to be trodden under foot of every man 
 without a cause ? what was this for a man a man to do in the 
 world, to live wifeless and childless? where was the recompense?" 
 
 John Broderip turned at last from the print into the lonely discom 
 fort and vacancy of his home. He would follow this man in his work ; 
 he, too, would help to lift a degraded people out of their slough. 
 He stretched out his hands, opening and shutting them with a slow 
 smile, and then waited to speak cheerfully to Nathan and some 
 negroes who came through the hall. But under all, there was a 
 dull wonder if his work or his people were indeed worth to him 
 the wife and children he had lost ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 "ONE WITH HIS KIND." 
 
 JOE BUKLEY came up to Captain Knox s tent one evening before 
 drum-call with a letter in his hand. " Here s mention of Nathan 
 at last, Cap n. This here letter," tapping it with his finger, " was 
 written last November, and here s June, and it s just come to hand. 
 Dang the mails ! Nat went with his brother to jine a colored reg- 
 ment. Where is it ? " poring over the page. " Rossline usually 
 writes fair enough." 
 
 " Doctor Broderip, with his party of negro recruits, started for the 
 seat of war yesterday. Although they were called into the service 
 by the Goverment they were not allowed to wear its uniform in the 
 streets. The white regiments, as you know, went out with arms, 
 and banners, and music; but these poor fellows huddled along the 
 pavement as if going to their daily work, and their shuffling and 
 gait, and subdued look never told the story of their wrong half so 
 
326 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 powerfully to me as now, when they were raising their own hands 
 to right it. Doctor Broderip was with them ; the same gray, still, 
 austere figure as when in his own drawing-room. I fancied that 
 his face was sallower, and the mulatto features seemed more plainly 
 marked. I couldn t forget, as he stood on the prow of the boat 
 after they had embarked, looking up into the darkening city, that 
 he left all his life as a white man behind; that, after his long strug 
 gle out of slavery, he was going back now to his race to take their 
 fate on him again. There was not a word of kindly cheer for him ; 
 the very evening was gray and dull, the wharf was nearly vacant ; 
 but I scarcely regretted shouts or popular clamor for him. I fan 
 cied they would hardly have touched his pain or his triumph. I 
 was in an open carriage with Mr. Ottley : that dull, si lent Margaret 
 Conrad was with us, and her father. Mr. Ottley had turned the 
 horses suddenly to the wharf, saying, We shall be just in season 
 to see Broderip for the last time; you all wish it?- and drove OE 
 without waiting for an answer. Miss Conrad shivered as if she 
 dreaded the night wind from the river ; but I did not heed her. She 
 is not like a woman to me, but a dangerous, lawless man in an iror 
 mask. I could not turn my eyes, though, from the pale, high-bred 
 face in the twilight beside me, and the shut lip. I could not tell 
 what terrible cry they would utter if they opened. Mr. Ottley 
 called cheerfully to Doctor Broderip, but he did not hear him ; he 
 was thronged about with blacks. See them crowd him, said Mr. 
 Ottley with disgust ; to think what he might have been, and how 
 he chose to herd with these wretches. The surgeon saw us at that 
 moment, and, coming forward, leaned over the deck, his hands 
 clasped behind him, and looked down ; he made no gesture of greet 
 ing ; his eyes were fixed on Miss Conrad s face. She turned slowly 
 round as if she were magnetized, and lifted her gray eyes to his. 
 She made no sign or motion, though he watched her as the boat 
 floated out and down into the darkness. Then I saw him stand 
 erect and put one hand out slowly and gravely, the palm toward 
 the land. Puny little man though he was, with his negro kinsfolk 
 behind him, it was a grand gesture of farewell. When the boat 
 was gone we drove away in silence. I cried, as any woman would; 
 but Miss Conrad sat immovable as iron. If I were a man, I 
 said, when I could speak, I would ask no better fate than to fight 
 at his side. Then she turned on me. He is a negro, she said. 
 * Nothing can make him as other men. * I took heed to the tones 
 of his voice, her father said, without heeding her; there s a ten 
 der human softness in them that s new. I think the animal is most 
 sloughed off of John Broderip. I think this sacrifice for his people 
 11 bring out the man in him more n any selfish love for a wife or 
 home would have done. He was half beast before, in his own no 
 tion ; but, curiously enough, it s through his negro blood that hu 
 
WAITING FUR THE VERDICT. 327 
 
 inanity s got hold of him. He s one with his kind. His brothei 
 was with him. 
 
 "That s Nat, you know," looking up at Captain Knox. "But 
 this letter s six months old. It s too late to give the clue of him 
 to that boy of his and his mother." 
 
 "They were taken back to the Strebling place?" 
 
 " Yes. I saw her before they was took back. They d a very 
 comfortable place there in the hospital, but she was wearin away. 
 What with strainin her eyes over the hill line for her man day by 
 day, and then findin Tom slippin into the pollution of the other 
 darkeys about camp, both together acted on her as it would on 
 white women, a most. Niggers has a species of feelin s, I reckon." 
 
 Joe took off his long-lost letter to the shady side of the camp, to 
 con over at his leisure. Then he took out a package of letters of 
 later date, worn thin with often reading. But he went over them 
 again, growing red, and chuckling at intervals. There was some 
 subject in them which he did not broach to Captain Knox, though 
 that officer had noticed that Joe had suddenly wearied of the war, 
 and grown despondent about his chances of ever seeing home. 
 
 He took now from a bit of white tissue paper a little lock of hair, 
 softer and of a paler gold than Ross , and laid it on his great red 
 palm, with a smothered haw-haw. 
 
 " To think of that little fellar bein ther in my place, and with 
 my name, and me never seein him ! Takin notice at a month 
 old ? Of course he did; the Burleys were all for ard. Joe Burley, 
 eh ? Joe Burley ! " and he turned the bit of curl over and over 
 before he folded it up and bestowed it safely in the letter again-. 
 "Even the words she wiites seems to be stirring: and alive," he 
 
 O 
 
 thought, as he put it in his breast. " The very thoughts of Ross is 
 bright and healthy. I ll go write to her about the child taking a 
 shower bath in the mornin . Between Friend Blanchard and that 
 other old woman cackling about, they ll make a milksop of that 
 boy before I kin reach home. That other matter, too, I ll mention." 
 
 The other matter was a rumor which Joe had heard from Anny 
 an old story which she said lingered among the Strebling negroes, 
 that Nathan s father, Hugh, held some secret belonging to the 
 Randolphs. "It may be of importance, Rossline," he wrote. 
 " You d best mention it to your husband." 
 
 Ross did not mention it to her husband. On the contrary, when 
 Joe s letter reached her in the farm-house, she slipped it under the 
 baby s quilt, hearing Garrick come in. 
 
 The end of the story of Coyle Randolph s will she never had 
 heard ; though before Garrick s visit to Kentucky it had been his 
 one theme. After that, it dropped into the silence of the grave. 
 
 Ross made no effort to unearth it. The more she held open every 
 thought ai>d act of her life to her husband, the more she shut her 
 
328 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 eyes to the fogs with which he incessantly smothered his. Aunt 
 Laura had returned with him on a visit which threatened to be 
 perpetual. She lamented to Ross without ceasing that Garrick 
 Randolph was not the man he used to be ; that he was irritable, 
 moody, scoffing at himself, his family, all kinds of honesty or reli 
 gion. But Ross was deaf. She was blind, too, to the change in 
 himself, to the hollow, suspicious eyes, the cynical smile, the s -in^i- 
 ness one day and squandering the next. She thought she knew a 
 Garrick Randolph that even he did not now know: some day he 
 would come back to her. As for this ill-temper and injustice, they 
 were but the eruption of some disease which sickened him at heart ; 
 until she could cure that, why should she quarrel with its signs ? 
 
 That day, Ross sat on a low stool, chafing her boy s white back 
 and limbs with a vague notion of training his muscles. 
 
 Her dress (still the old fancy of blue in that) was a trifle 
 coarser. Garrick had lost his office at Washington, and somehow 
 the baby interfered with Ross drawings, though butchers and 
 bakers bills grew weekly heavier. Her cheeks were a little sunken 
 now, but the brown eyes were brighter, and the laugh far more 
 ready, and though her golden hair was tucked up in a matronly 
 fashion, one curl hung down for baby to pull. Baby had been 
 nameless for a long time. Aunt Laura had named it Coyle, with 
 shrugs and lifted eyebrows of amazement at the morose silence 
 with which Garrick listened to her. Rose herself called it Garrick 
 once, but that venture was followed by a sharp refusal and another 
 fit of inexplicable gloom. One day, after playing with it in an un 
 usually happy humor, he tossed it back into her lap, saying: 
 
 " Call it Joe Burley, Ross, he is the honestest man I know." 
 At which her eyes sparkled, and filled with tears, and she kissed 
 him before she kissed the baby, in a way that put him in one of 
 his old merry moods for the rest of the evening. 
 
 The day Joe s letter came,he stood smoking by the fire, watching 
 her as she absently rubbed the child s legs and arms. 
 
 " What are you going to make of that boy, Rosslyn ? " 
 
 She looked up, coloring. " Whatever he is fitted for, if I ha t my 
 way whether teacher or blacksmith. But I hope there will be 
 some great, generous work ready, like this of freeing the negro, 
 when he is a man. I want him to be a helper in the world. Not a 
 mere grubber for bread and butter." 
 
 u Your boy will differ from your husband then," with an unpleas 
 ant laugh. 
 
 " No, Garrick," steadily. * v 
 
 " God knows what was wrong in my making-up ! " pacing the 
 floor, his hands thrust in the pockets of his dressing-gown. " I 
 used to be reckoned a kind, generous fellow, but according to your 
 rules, I am no better than a thief and a homicide. You call the men 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 329 
 
 who sanctioned the discipline at Anderson ville, wholesale murder 
 ers ; now, I know some of them, and better husbands and fathers " 
 
 Ross stood up with a white, indignant face. " You shall not 
 class yourself with those men ! Nothing you can have done " 
 
 " Rosslyn, shall I tell you what I have done ? " 
 
 " No, Garrick." She began fondling little Joe again, but her 
 hands shook. 
 
 " It was not the old negro that I regret so much as the matter of 
 the will." 
 
 "I will not hear," resolutely. "You are an xionorable man." 
 
 " Don t say chivalric," with a bitter laugh. " That s past 
 past ! " 
 
 " God forbid that I should," quietly. " That word chivalry has 
 been brought to mean a fine generosity to your equals, and your 
 foot on the neck of all beneath you ; hospitality in the house, woman- 
 whipping in the quarters, and starvation in the prisoners pen." 
 
 Randolph made no reply, stood staring out of the window till 
 his pipe went out in his mouth. Ross went on dressing her boy. 
 
 He turned on her, at last, sharply, " What if you knew your son 
 to be a beggar, Rosslyn ? Not alone in property, but in all that 
 gives a man standing family honor " 
 
 A half mischievous humor twinkled in her eyes. " Dear Garrick, 
 sometimes I wonder if family honor is not a heavier burden than 
 family shame would be." 
 
 His face flamed scarlet. "You re right," he muttered, "you re 
 right." Then he went out, and came back in half an hour, to tell 
 her he purposed going on a long journey to-morrow. 
 
 " Yes, Garrick," quietly. (She had heard it so often before ! ) 
 
 " I ll give up my Joe s inheritance " holding one hand over his 
 pale jaws. " When I return I ll turn into hard work." 
 
 Secretly Ross, thought it was the best thing he could do, but she 
 , only repeated her gentle "Yes, Garrick." 
 
 " I want to be off by the early train," beginning to stroke his 
 whiskers in the old complacent fashion. " While I m gone, Ross, 
 if I were you, I would avoid Friend Blanchard. She is a very 
 Machiavelli in petticoats. Ask Aunt Laura for advice, in my stead, 
 if you need any." 
 
 Ross buttoned Joe s sleeve-bands with a vehement click, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 lie did not tell her that his proposed journey was into Georgia, 
 and at the risk of his life. He hardly gave a thought to the physi 
 cal <lang*er ; and if he had, would not have alarmed her. " It s the 
 road that will make a man of me again ! " he said to himself, with 
 something like a terrible inward sob. 
 
 Ross began to rock her baby to sleep, holding him to her breast, 
 with the old half smile whenever she caught her husband s eye. 
 
330 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 She had heard all this so often before. She knew he would not go 
 to-morrow. She knew his foot was on the entrance to the right 
 road, but he would stand there, paltering, until it was too late. She 
 offered no advice or warning.. Garrick wondered why she grew so 
 deadly pale as she sang Joe to sleep, but God heard the words in 
 her heart as she sat singing her cheerful little song. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF A NEW DAY. 
 
 HE did not go to-morrow. Day slipped into day, month into 
 month, until Winter had passed into Summer, and Summer into 
 Winter again. By turns he worked feverishly for weeks, or was 
 totally idle ; it was noticeable, however, that when he worked he 
 did not heed how coarse the labor was. There was no talk now 
 of its fitness for the hands of a gentleman. He worked desperately, 
 as a monk might have done violent penance by which he hoped to 
 cleanse himself of some long-ago stain. But the weeks of lazy 
 lounging and ill-temper followed as surely. Meanwhile flour, and 
 meat, and clothes must be bought. Ross and little Joe tugged on 
 together, baby though one was. Some manner of pilgrimage tests 
 the quality of every man or woman in life; there were times now 
 when to Ross the water was bitter, and the manna scanty; when 
 she could almost have cried aloud in her extremity, " Why hast 
 Thou brought me here to die before my time ? " But as her eyes 
 sank into deeper hollows, they learned to be more tender to her 
 husband. She could see the Leader before them, but Garrick wan 
 dered apart in a solitary way. He had lost faith in the Randolphs, 
 in himself; he had been more certain of them than of God. He 
 kept his hold of his wife s hand : it was his one anchor. Perhaps 
 her strong, healthy-colored physique, her elastic spirits, and sunny 
 temper wese of more apparent help to him, in this time of his life, 
 than the religion that underlaid them. 
 
 But the end came at last, when the war was over, that time which 
 cut short so many tangled threads. 
 
 One warm May evening, Rosslyn sat sewing on the farm-house 
 porch, her sturdy little Joe playing at her feet, and old Mr. Conrad 
 in a great wooden chair beside her. 
 
 " Yes, it is heartsome," in answer to some remark of hers. " I 
 know just the yellow light there is yonder in the west; and the 
 dogwood s like swarms of white butterflies in the woods now, I 
 reckon, eh? But, about Meg?" lowering his voice, anxiously. "I 
 was going to say that I m disappointed in Meg. It s a carnal dis 
 appointment, too. But Margaret always seemed to me to belong 
 to that old Titan race we read of, with her large, white limbs, and 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 031 
 
 powerful brain, that s been dumb so long. I foresaw to look for 
 some great utterance when it spoke. Yes, I did. If it had been in 
 words or music she told what was in her, I d not have been sur 
 prised if the whole world had stopped to listen. But when she 
 ends in sittin down to teach a lot of big and little niggers in Baker 
 street, day after day " 
 
 " But it is like your own work." 
 
 " O, I m a different affair. But with Meg s beauty and power ! 
 Mean hands for mean work, I say." 
 
 "But it was her master s work," gently. 
 
 " Surely," absently. " Well, the black blood is not abhorrent to 
 her now. If she had been less bitter once " 
 
 Ross said nothing. The war was over; and that meant to her 
 that four millions of men and women were thrown on the nation for 
 protection and help ; men and women whose brains and bodies 
 were diseased and incomplete from generations of barbarism and 
 slavery. Waiting for payment of their wrong ; for the late chance 
 which came in turn to every nation. It was in curious accord with 
 her thoughts that, when she raised her eyes, she saw, standing at 
 the foot of the steps a mulatto with his hat in hand, who might 
 have served as the type of his class ; a meagre, stooped, coffee-col 
 ored man, with a cowed, pinched face, and slow, melancholy eyes. 
 His tone, when he spoke, had the reticent quiet of one who had 
 learned his rights and meant to maintain them. 
 
 He came, he said, to see Mr. Randolph, bowing without a smile. 
 
 Ross rose with a vague alarm, at her husband s name. The 
 shadow of his secret, half guessed by her, pursued her day and 
 night. She did not know what hour it would arrest them. 
 
 " You have travelled far to see my husband ? " when she had 
 sent to summon him. 
 
 " It wur a long way, Missus." 
 
 She hesitated before the next question, glancing doubtfully at 
 Mr. Conrad. Broderip s name, for some undefined reason, was now 
 never mentioned among them. After the battle near Bermuda 
 Hundred, where he led his blacks into the charge, he was reported 
 missing. Whether he had been shot on the field, or taken prisoner 
 was never known. She hesitated, as if about to unearth the dead, 
 before she said, "You are the brother of Doctor Broderip, who 
 went with him into the war? " 
 
 Nathan bowed, but did not speak. There was a moment s silence. 
 
 " Where have you left him?" 
 
 He looked up dully. " I se loss him. He wur took to Anderson- 
 ville. Dar wur no exchange for de officers of cullored regiments. 
 Dar wus nothin but death for them." 
 
 Conrad brought down his stick heavily on the ground. "N-o!" 
 standing up, pale and trembling. " John Broderip never was suf 
 
332 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 fered to die like a rat in a hole ! God is just. It will be given to 
 him to see the freedom of his people." 
 
 But Nathan s eye did not kindle ; he shook his head hopelessly, 
 and then it sank, as before, on his breast. 
 
 "And your wife and boy?" said Ross, softly. 
 
 " God knows, Missus, God knows. I ve sarched fur dem, it s 
 long years now. I heerd dey come Norf. But dey s Joss to me, I 
 reckon." 
 
 Ross eyes flashed. She knew, through old Joe, that they were 
 still alive, and on the Strebling place ; but she kept her own coun 
 sel. A sudden wrench came to her heart as she heard Garrick s 
 slow, lounging step. It was the last chance. The sight of this 
 man might rouse him ; but it was the last chance, and a slight one. 
 
 He came out on the porch, in his flowered dressing-robe, and 
 stood still, looking at Nathan as he rose. 
 
 The mulatto s keen glance ran over him. " I ve an arrand fur 
 you, suh," in the same monotonous voice, a little raised. " I se lost 
 brother an wife an chile. Dar s but one I ken find, an I kum to 
 you for him, suh. Dat s my father, ole Hugh." 
 
 Brought face to face at last with his miserable secret, in common 
 place words, Garrick stood motionless, looking in the man s face. 
 There was no surprise in his own ; he had waited the summons too 
 long. But the thin, fastidious features, in their frame of waving 
 brown hair, grew curiously rigid and discolored, as if a cold finger 
 had touched the heart underneath. 
 
 "You sent him to Georgy, suh," simply stating the fact, with no 
 reproach in the tone. " Dat wur de time when you had de right 
 to send us to Georgy; but we cullored people is gittin togedder in 
 families agin, now mudder -and brudders and chillen. I se got 
 none left but de ole man, suh, if he s libiri . If you ll gib me a 
 hint, suh, I ll find him." 
 
 Garrick looked over Nathan s head into the pleasant May even 
 ing. Without turning to them he saw Rosslyn s eyes upon his 
 face : they seemed as if she asked life or death at the hands of God ; 
 he saw little, chubby Joe in the sand at his feet. A chill passed 
 through him as if some deathly nightmare lost its hold ; he drew a 
 long breath, and then a strange clearness came into his face. 
 
 "Gome in, Nathan," he said, quietly. "I will go with you to 
 morrow to find him." 
 
 " You ll find him alive ! " said Conrad, in an under tone. " And 
 Broderip will return. God is just ! " 
 
 But Garrick did not hear him. He only saw his wife s face, 
 flushed, grand and tender with the trust, looking for the first time 
 out from her soul to his. She laid her hand on his arm as they 
 weiat in together. No words passed between them, but she knew 
 that he had returned forever to his true self and to her. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 333 
 
 Garrick went with the mulatto in the morning. Friend Blanch- 
 ard, who had driven out for breakfast, stood by Ross in the 
 window, watching the tears and smiles on her face, that had grown 
 both pale and thin in the last year. The old Quakeress shrewdly / 
 guessed the secret, but she was turning away without notice when 
 Ross thoughts broke out aloud. 
 
 " He promised to return before the boy s birthday, and to bring 
 both the negroes. I have a plan for that day, if you will aid me." 
 
 "Does thy husband -know it, Rosslyn?" putting her finger on 
 the girl s lips. "Let him be first to hear thy little secrets. Hus 
 bands, in my day, were wont to be more jealous of women friends 
 than of lovers." 
 
 Ross blushed, and, taking up Joe, began to talk suddenly of the 
 croup, in which the old lady joined with a sad, amused smile on 
 her withered face. One topic after another had been tacitly inter 
 dicted between them, until nothing was left but Joe and his ail 
 ments. Perhaps the silence between the two women brought them 
 nearer than any speech had ever done. 
 
 When she was gone, Aunt Laura brought her crochet-work to 
 the writing-table, where Ross was seated. 
 
 " I find Garrick has not taken his medicine-case, Rosslyn. I 
 think the risk run by his going into those low, swampy grounds, at 
 this season of the year, is very great and so I should have told 
 him, if my advice had been asked. But young people stand in 
 need of no counsel now-a-days. I can conceive of no business 
 sufficiently important to tempt the risk. What was his business, 
 Rosslyn ? " 
 
 " I do not know certainly. I thought it better not to interfere, 
 Aunt Laura ; " and Ross fitted a pen into its handle. 
 
 Aunt Laura laid down her sewing. " Rosslyn, you do not know 
 your first rights as a wife ! You could have a very good influence 
 over Garrick, if you chose very good. But you should insist on 
 absolute confidence. However, I am tired advising you. What 
 was it I heard you say of the boy s birthday ? I shall not be here, 
 however, so it matters little to me." 
 
 Ross got up and gave the feeble little face a cordial kiss. " Why 
 should you not be here ? Why should n t we all, for once, be glad 
 together? It seems to me, since peace and freedom both came, as 
 if a new morning had dawned for the world, and I cannot help 
 thinking of my boy as being a part of it. I thought I would like 
 to bring a little good to others on the day he was given to me." 
 
 " Then I must say, my dear, you are very foolish, if, as I suppose, 
 you aro going to mix yourself up in Freedmen s Aid Societies, and 
 the like; meddling with the everlasting negroes. A mother who 
 keeps her children well dressed, and manages their teething prop 
 erly, has no time for such philanthropy, or other philandering." 
 
334 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " I m not fit to be in a society," said Ross, simply, dipping her 
 pen in the ink. " I always quarrel with the other women. But 
 Joe has to learn that the best work for a man is to help somebody 
 weaker than himself; and I think his mother" ought to teach him 
 that." 
 
 " That is another affair from negro worship," said Aunt Laura, 
 complacently ; and Ross wrote her letter to old Joe, undisturbed 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 A LOW sunset striking oblique lines of sultry yellow light over 
 plats of rice fields ; in the front, a white, verandahed house gutted 
 and half burned ; a clump of singed mulberry trees at its back. 
 The quarters were, however, untouched by fire, and swarming with 
 negroes of every shade from a sickly chalky hue to oily black. 
 Garrick Randolph stood on the charred steps of the house porch 
 looking down at them ; a squat man with shrewd eyes, looking from 
 bushy red eyebrows, the former overseer of the place, was beside 
 him. 
 
 " There is little chance of success in your search here, Mr. Ran 
 dolph," hitching up his trousers. " The old man is most probably 
 in some of the dens in Savannah, if alive." 
 
 " I was told there were large numbers of freedmen collected along 
 this shore, and thought it worth inspection. I never before saw 
 such masses of blacks as I have found congregated in Georgia and 
 Carolina," running his eye thoughtfully over the descent. " I begin 
 to feel that they might become a power in the country, under certain 
 conditions, of course." 
 
 " They re a weight that ll bring it to perdition if they re ever 
 given a vote," growled the man. 
 
 " The more reason that they should be made fit to vote," said 
 Randolph, quickly. "Where is the owner of this place ? " 
 
 " Layton ? Killed at Antietam. His widow is with her kin in 
 Carolina. What could she do with this wasted land, and no nig 
 gers ? Some of these people worked for Stacy back of the ridge, 
 and demanded wages, but Stacy contrived that the wages jest paid 
 the rent of their quarters, and there wasn t a penny over for food. 
 Fifteen died on that plantation last Winter of sheer starvation. 
 What of that? Stacy knowed when Congress made his niggers 
 free, it meant it. Their dead bodies was nothing out of his pocket 
 now. Then agin, the old uns and babies ain t counted in on most plan 
 tations, in the payment of rations. * Wages you want, and wages 
 you shall have! says Stacy; but them as can t work needn t 
 beg. Stacy s sharp." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 335 
 
 "But these old men have given their strength and years to him," 
 said Garrick, raising his voice, as the face of Hugh grew suddenly 
 real to him. 
 
 " Well," reflectively, " some of the planters are both just and kind 
 in suiting themselves and their people to the new order of things. 
 They pay fair wages. But with them as owned large gangs it s 
 different. You can t in natur expect much sympathy between a 
 man and two or three hundred field hands he s been choused out of, 
 eh ? Like them," nodding contemptuously to the swarming crowd 
 below. 
 
 " I should like to go among them, Mr. Ringold." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly. I ll go down with you, sir," and Ringold 
 preceded him and shouldered a passage, using the butt-end of his 
 heavy riding-whip about him as composedly as if it had fallen on 
 brambles in his way, instead of women and children s heads. 
 Randolph found himself speaking to them gently, as he had never 
 done to his own slaves. The very tones of his voice had, somehow, 
 a tang like those of Ross. A great, sluggish, sinking mass, he 
 thought, shaken out of its old place in the nation. Where was the 
 lever to raise it ? What mortar would cement it in its place again ? 
 
 " How do you mean to live ? " he demanded of a withered old 
 fellow with a mat of white wool about his dried, monkey face. 
 
 " Mass Ringold tink he raise de cotton crop, hyur, an we gwine in 
 on de sheers. We s free men now, suh." 
 
 " But until then ? You ll starve in the meantime." 
 
 " Jes so, Mars ," Avhich the gathering circle echoed solemnly. 
 
 " Whose cows are those ? " suddenly pointing to a herd of fifteen 
 or twenty grazing below. 
 
 " Dey s strays. We den milks dem." 
 
 " Why not sell the milk in Savannah ? Send it down in a bateau ? 
 Sell the butter ; it is worth its weight in gold there now," eagerly. 
 " Why not go to work and plant corn, yams anything, on this 
 ground on which you have squatted ? You could make double the 
 proceed of the cotton crop." 
 
 " Jes so, Mars ." the old man assented, nodding more solemnly. 
 " De good Lo d knows dat s so." 
 
 "I tell you," said Randolph, growing angry, " that famine is 
 before you. It s written plainly on the face of this country. Will 
 you do what I say ? " 
 
 " Suh," submissively, " de good Lo d knows dem words ob yours 
 is de truf. Mars Ringold, hyur, he s gwine to raise de cotton crop, 
 an we den is gwine in on de sheers. We s free men, you see, suh." 
 
 " And so they ll come back to the same words if you reasoned 
 with them for hours: like a dog about a turnspit," said Ringold 
 as they turned away. " A nigger s got neither reason nor thrift, 
 and you can t make silk out of sow s skin." 
 
336 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " The negro in the North, wherever he has had the education of 
 the white, has been equally thrifty. /But he is everywhere imitative, 
 and what thrift do you expect from the slaves when Southern 
 masters were what they were ? " 
 
 Randolph stopped suddenly. He had not realized before how, 
 since he came back into the South, he had been echoing the opinions 
 he had forced from Ross from time to time opinions for which he 
 had lectured her sharply the very day before he left. His face grew 
 hot for a moment, and then he forgot her, and, five minutes after 
 ward, used her very words, unconscious that he did so. Another 
 change was marked in him, of which he was also ignorant. Travel 
 ling with Nathan, he did not use the arrogant tone habitual to him 
 before he married. It was impossible to feel in the same way to a 
 chattel whom you could trade for a mare and filly, and the man 
 who would probably poll his vote with you at the next election. 
 Nat was keenly conscious of the difference. Upon one or two oc 
 casions Garrick even gave him, in a lordly way, hints of the ne 
 cessity of a future conservative policy in the country, to which the 
 mulatto listened submissively, neither understanding nor believing 
 a word. 
 
 Randolph s face lowered into its habitual gloom as they retraced 
 their steps. His senses had perhaps grown morbid, but he began 
 to find on every black face he met, a curious likeness to the poor 
 old wretch whom he sought. Was it the wrong that had been done 
 to him which was stamped on them all, and reproached him from 
 their eyes ? 
 
 Nathan came up to them as they reached the porch steps. 
 
 " No trace of the old man s trail, my poor fellow ? " said 
 Ringold, kindly. 
 
 " No, suh," shaking his head. " Pears as if we cullored people s 
 little account in de world. Dar s sech a light trail lef when we se 
 gone." 
 
 " There s a range of plantations," said Ringold, turning to Ran 
 dolph, " on the other side of the river where the people are fairly 
 paid, I hear. There s a night-school somewhere there, where it s 
 not unlikely you d get word of him. We will have some supper, 
 and ride over." 
 
 Randolph assented, and after nightfall they rode down to the 
 ford and crossed, Nathan trotting on behind. The night was dark. 
 When they came within sight of the shed where the school was 
 held, the red light from its frameless windows and doors streamed 
 across the fields. "I think that ar s a curious sight," said Ringold, 
 nodding up to the shed. "It s one I didn t expect to see among 
 Georgy field-hands, that s a fact. Let s get off the horses and 
 walk up." 
 
 Outside of the shed, groups of half-grown negro boys were loung- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 337 
 
 ing, asleep or awake; but the interior was crammed with field- 
 hands, men and women, many of them gray-headed and decrepid. 
 Each of them held a bit of tallow candle, and by its light was peer 
 ing forward at a blackboard, on which the alphabet and a few 
 simple words were written ; they spelled these after the teacher in 
 a sort of droning song, their foreheads knit, and eyes set earnestly. 
 The two men stood watching at the window until the teacher per 
 ceived them, and at a pause in the lesson, joined them. He was a 
 thin, anxious-looking young man, and held by the hand a little girl 
 dressed in a queer slip of jeans, fastened with horn buttons, such as 
 a man would be apt to fashion. 
 
 " I think I can gain some information of the man you want," he 
 said, "after the lesson is over, however. The candles burning are 
 a loss to my pupils," with a faint smile. 
 
 " Have you much difficulty in inducing them to come ? " 
 
 " I have to turn them away, literally, by the hundred. They 
 come here after their day s work, and save part of their scanty 
 wages to pay me. I have schools every night on different planta 
 tions." 
 
 "I thought it was a work of charity on your part," sneered 
 Randolph. 
 
 The man s hollow cheek flushed. "I wish it were. But I cannot 
 give my time for nothing. I must live." 
 
 " I wouldn t have said that to Forbes," said Ringold, taking a 
 chew of tobacco as the master turned away. "His wife died a 
 month or two ago, and left him with some disease that had had 
 him down for years, and that little gal. He s just begun to crawl 
 about now does odd jobs in daytime, and teaches the niggers at 
 night. He was always set agin slavery, Forbes was." 
 
 Garrick looked at the child, and the man who was trying to be 
 father and mother to her, and almost forgave him his unmanly work 
 of teaching negroes. "How do you succeed?" he said, kindly, 
 when the lesson was over, and the master, still holding the child by 
 the hand, came to them. 
 
 "There s not much to be done with the present generation. 
 They re dull, dull ! Though it s pitiful to see their desperate efforts 
 to comprehend and remember. I have old men and women of 
 eighty trying to learn. Now, the little ones, on the contrary, are 
 curiously quick and peart ; but they re all alike hungry for knowl 
 edge. It s like an epidemic among them. They ve got the idea it s 
 the thing that will bring them to a level with the whites." 
 
 Randolph winced. He patted the child s head by way of di 
 version. Forbes took her up, his eyes kindling. " Yes, she s a good 
 little girl Janey. Say your verse for the gentleman, Janey;" 
 and when Garrick praised her, and noticed the delicate contour of 
 her freckled little hand, he colored with pleasure like a woman. 
 22 
 
338 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " I have sent for a negro who knows all new comers in the 
 neighborhood. He can tell us if your man Here he is," as a stal 
 wart mulatto swaggered in. 
 
 " Pears as if dat was de scription of ole Dad from Kentucky," 
 after he had listened to Randolph. " He s bin hyur since Spring. 
 Ise ll carry him to ye. He s no notion of dyin ," in answer to some 
 stammered question of Nathan s. " He s tough." 
 
 Nathan, who had waited patiently during the last hour, moved 
 nervously from place to place after the man was gone, his limbs 
 jerking, his lips trembling uncontrollably. He drew Randolph 
 aside. " Suh, dat is my father he is gone to fetch : dat is all de 
 kin left n*e. Kin I go out to meet him ? " 
 
 " Surely. I will go with you." 
 
 They crossed the field, and seeing two figures approaching, 
 stopped in the road beyond. The moon was up, and shone full in their 
 faces. It was old Hugh, tougher and weather-beaten, the clothes 
 in rags, but the gray wool and broad, white collar framed the same 
 shrewd, watchful face. He stopped short when he saw Randolph, 
 with a glance of terror and suspicion. 
 
 " Thank God, he is not dead," thought Garrick. " I came to look 
 for you, Hugh," loudly, " to bring you home again." 
 
 The negro was silent for a moment ; then every trace of sus 
 picion vanished from his shining face. He held out his shaking 
 hands. " Den it wan t by your will I was took away ? I tought 
 you couldn t do it. I tought you couldn t ! " 
 
 Garrick did not speak, but drew aside, leaving Nathan standing 
 in front of his father. "Who am dat?" cried the old man shrilly, 
 after a quick, keen scrutiny. " He has de look ob my ole woman 
 dead forty years ago." 
 
 Nathan took his hand without speaking. 
 
 "It is one of the sons you lost Nathan, Hugh," said Randolph. 
 
 The old negro scanned the meek, little, bald-headed man, then 
 slowly drew away his hand. " It was a little lad I lost a little 
 lad. Hyur s an ole man dat you fetch me." 
 
 No one spoke. 
 
 " He wur a little live chap, about your age, suh," looking at the 
 sinewy young Kentuckian from head to foot, his eye pausing on the 
 finely-accented features. "He d right to be like you. What ve 
 you done to make him into dis ole man dat you fetch me ? " 
 
 " But I am Nathan ! " smiling feebly. 
 
 "God bless you, den, my son," slowly, turning dryly away, how 
 ever, and hobbling up the hill alone. Presently he put out his 
 hand and rested it on Nathan s shoulder, smiling. " Fse a cross- 
 grained old chap ; but I se berry glad to find you, Nathan. Whar 
 am yer brother ? " 
 
 " We ll find him soon," evasively. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 339 
 
 " He ll be an ole man, too," he mumbled. u Ise ll neber find my 
 little lads. Dey s gone, dey s gone." 
 
 That night Hugh came shuffling into the tavern parlor, where 
 Randolph sat smoking. " You heerd from Mars Bob Strebling 
 bout dat paper, suh?" tugging at his wool, and then standing 
 quietly before him. 
 
 " What paper ? " pushing down the ashes of his pipe. 
 
 " De will ; Mars Coyle s will. I gib it to a cunnel in Mars Bob s 
 division, to deliber it to him, and I heerd he done it." 
 
 u The will ? You had my father s will ? You sent it to Robert 
 Strebling ? " 
 
 " I tought " looking Randolph straight in the eyes, " if you 
 meant as you said, to make all plain to Mars Strebling, de will wur 
 needed dar. I tought, in any case, it wur needed." 
 
 " It was all made plain. When did you send it ? " 
 
 " Las Summer, suh, when I found for shore dat I would neber seo 
 de ole place no more. You ll forgib me, M s Garrick," with a 
 childish srnile ; ." but I tought you d meant to sell me inter Georgy. 
 It warn t fair to you." 
 
 " Well, good night, Hugh," slipping money into his hand. 
 
 He sat looking steadily into the empty grate, forgetting to re 
 light his pipe. For a year, then, these God-forsaken Rebels and 
 scoundrels Streblings, father and son had held a legal tenure on 
 his property, and from sheer generosity had forborne to touch it ? 
 
 In that year he had been defrauding them of it. 
 
 He rose at last, and crept oft* to bed, a chill of meanness and 
 shame pervading every atom of his large, handsome body. Ha 
 wished he could slough off the old Garrick Randolph, and be born 
 again a hard-worked, honest man. He hoped to God that it was 
 from his mother s pure brain and soul Joe had drawn his life. 
 " The Burley blood is clean," muttered Garrick Randolph as he laid 
 down not to sleep. 
 
 An incident that occurred next morning hastened his departure 
 North. Ringold came in while he was at breakfast. " Here s 
 another cussed unpleasantness ! Forbes, you know, the little gal s 
 father ? Well, they ve done for Forbes." 
 
 " Done for him ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Your jaws ud hardly turn so white if you d been here through 
 the war, Mr. Randolph. Come out, and you ll see what I mean." 
 
 He went to the door and beckoned some men to stop who were 
 passing, carrying someting on a stretcher ; and then taking off the 
 sheet from it, showed beneath the thin, anxious face of the poor 
 teacher, a little paler than usual, with the eyes shut, and a dark 
 round spot on one temple. 
 
 " Shot dead." 
 
 " Phil Tarr s mark," said one of the bearers, pointing to the 
 
340 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 wound. " There was a paper pinned to his breast with Tarr s name 
 signed to it." 
 
 Randolph stooped over the dead face ; there was the same boyish 
 smile on it with which the master had talked of his little girl the 
 night before. The child herself stood /patiently now by the board, 
 holding one limp, cold hand in hers, her dress uncared for, and hair 
 untended, as Ringold noted, touching her head, and adding, " He 
 used to be astir early to have her washed and dressed, same as her 
 mother done." 
 
 "Ton s Tarr," he muttered afterward, nodding to a man on 
 horseback, riding leisurely past, glancing askance at the body. 
 
 " Why is he not arrested ? " said Garrick. 
 
 The overseer shrugged his shoulders. " Forbes was a Union man, 
 and nigger friend. It ud be nigh as hard to get justice agen his 
 murderer as if he d only been a nigger." 
 
 " Good God ! Why, sir, my fear has been that we were pamper 
 ing the negro with too much care," said Randolph, wiping his pale 
 lips. 
 
 " May be so among the radicals. But your own State of Ken 
 tucky reports, officially, over five hundred negroes outraged and 
 murdered in a year, and no steps taken to avenge them." 
 
 " If if no other provision is found for this child," said Garrick, 
 hastily, " I ll take her home with me." 
 
 " What will your wife say to that, Colonel ? " 
 
 cl My wife s hearth and heart would take in all the orphans of 
 the world," said Garrick, turning away. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIL 
 
 OLD WRONGS RIGHTED. 
 
 JOE BURLEY Captain Burley now had received his discharge. 
 He stood on the stoop of a tavern just outside of Memphis, his 
 knapsack and valise en the floor beside him. 
 
 " You re off for home, Burley, eh ? Well, God speed you ! Come 
 to Cleveland when you can ; you ll find a chair by the fire always 
 ready for you, and a welcome. I m going back into trade. It ll do 
 us both good to fight our battles over again." 
 
 " Saddee, Captain Knox. Yes, I m off for home. I ve sent my 
 sword by a safe conveyance. I was afeerd to trust it with my lug 
 gage. There s a little chap at home that ll prize that sword when 
 he s old enough." 
 
 " Your grandson ? You were as mum and quiet about that boy, 
 Joe, as if you d been a young man, and he were your bride." 
 
 " So ? so ? " growing red. " Well, you see, I m old, Captain, and 
 a great pleasure like that let into my life was suddent and onex 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 341 
 
 pected. He knows me a ready, his mother says, through my picture. 
 He s a remarkable for ard child ; only about two years old, now." 
 
 " You are going direct to Philadelphia ? " 
 
 " No, I ve got a commission from Rossline (that s the boy s 
 mother) to fetch Nat s wife and child with me. She wants to bring 
 the family together." 
 
 "Is there no tidings from Broderip?" asked Knox, who had 
 taken a strong interest in the story, as Joe told it to him. 
 
 Barley shook his head. " Sometimes I think of the war as like a 
 bottomless gulf I used to read of, where the youngest and bravest 
 was throwed in as sacrifices. But there s none went down into the 
 darkness of it that was worth more, to my notion, than that fiery 
 little devil of a surgeon. I think he ll come back yet. He got 
 cheated out of everything men care for, by his black blood. I 
 think he ll have fame. God is just," bending his head. 
 
 Knox was silent for a few moments. " You go down to the Streb- 
 ling place for the woman, Burley?" 
 
 " Yes." Joe s face clouded, and he stopped abruptly. 
 
 " I ll meet you here, then, as you return. Leave your luggage 
 with me." 
 
 Joe did not leave his pistols with his luggage ; he loaded them, 
 and took also a big hickory cane, knobbed at the end. "Perhaps 
 that young cock-o -the-walk that shot me in the boat will want to 
 try another bout. He ll find me ready, and more n willin ," he said 
 to Knox. Beside, he had a vague feeling that the work of his life 
 was done, and the quiet evening was coming ; so it was seemly that 
 all old scores should be paid and done with. The score with Streb- 
 ling was long and black. " I ll have the woman if he brings out 
 the whole of his fighting posse ! " he muttered again and again as 
 he was rowed down the river through the June afternoon to the 
 Strebling plantation. 
 
 When the boat floated up into the thick bed of lilies on shore, he 
 stepped out, adjusted the priming of his pistols, and put them 
 within easy reach. "Where will I find Strebling ?" he asked the 
 man who had brought him down. 
 
 "You re on the old gentleman s land now," resting on his oar. 
 
 Now, Burley was not at all satisfied with this mild mention of 
 the man he came to meet. His ancient enemy being his only one, 
 he had always made him a sort of receiver for all the gall and viru 
 lence of his nature ; and, having finally wrought himself up to 
 proper fighting heat of wrath against both father and son, would 
 have thought it only natural to hear them popularly called slave- 
 drivers or hell-hounds. He took out his old pocket-book to pay 
 the man, therefore, dashed and grim. 
 
 "You ll find the old Gunnel, likely, yander," pointing to a low, 
 shed-like cottage, after he had thrust the money in his pocket. 
 
342 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Why, that belongs to the quarters ? " 
 
 "The Yanks burned the house. The niggers is gone, too." 
 
 Joe started, then added, glummer than before, " Strebling could 
 afford to lose em. He was an easy liver, a man of means Streb 
 ling was." 
 
 "Well, I don t know. Most of his money was in Confederate 
 bonds, worth nothing now ; and they was free with their money 
 always, while it lasted, both the old man and Bob. Nobody never 
 come to them needy an was turned away. Seems hard he s so 
 put to for even his victuals in his last days." 
 
 " He s a young man yet James Strebling compared with 
 some others," glancing down at his own gaunt body with a sudder 
 shiver. " What are you talking of his last days for ? " 
 
 " He s broken fast in the last year ; he s ten year older than you, ? 
 and, nodding, he pushed the boat out into the river, beginning to 
 whistle as he dipped the oars. Joe turned up the slope, trampling 
 down the flowers under foot, with a dull sense of disappointment. 
 His eleven men in buckram had dwindled to an old, gray-headed 
 man, already defeated ; unless the hectoring son turned up, he was 
 likely to have no fight. " And James Streb ling s driven to that ? " 
 glancing at the miserable dwelling. " Humph ! The wicked stand 
 in slippery places. Well, I m glad of it ! I m glad of it ! " 
 
 But his face was crestfallen and ashamed, as he came nearer and 
 leaned on the fence about the hut, to determine what to do. Just 
 then a light touch fell on his arm. " God bless me ! Burley ! 
 Joseph Burley ! " 
 
 " Strebling ? " For a moment Joe stood in open-mouthed, ap 
 palled doubt before the tall, lean figure, about which coarse clothes 
 hung in wrinkled folds, and the shaking old face with its white 
 hair and beard. But the suave, downward gesture of x the hands 
 reassured him. " I m I m sorry to find you ill, Strebling," he said. 
 
 " Ah urn ! Yes, I m ill. Come^in," pushing open the little gate 
 and seizing Joe s big hand cordially in his thin, white fingers. " I 
 did n t expect to see an old friend to-day, or we d have tried to 
 have something for dinner it s generally, now, flitch and potatoes; 
 we re stripped pretty bare, here. But the welcome s the same. I 
 think it kind in you to hunt me up, Burley, very kind. Come in 
 come in." 
 
 " No, I ll not go in at present," thinking that it was easy to see 
 where Ross had gained her eager, irrational hospitality. 
 
 Strebling paused. " A year ago I would have entertained you 
 in a different fashion. There s the ruins of the old homestead, yon 
 der," pointing to a heap of charred logs and rafters. " This is the 
 house of an old tenant of mine ; she gives me a comfortable bed 
 and a plate at the table for a trifle. I need but little ; and I ll not 
 need that long," in an undertone. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 343 
 
 "But your son?" the half healed wound giving an angry 
 throb. Strebling turned suddenly and faced him with wide eyes 
 and trembling lips. " You did not know that Bob Bob ," 
 then he stopped and, turning, walked away to the end of the en 
 closure. 
 
 " His son was shot at Petersburg," whispered a woman who had 
 come down from the house while they were talking. " He was 
 brought home here and died two days after. The old man s never 
 got over that, nor never will." 
 
 Burley did not speak. He moistened his lips one or twice as he 
 stood looking at the feeble old man, leaning motionless over the 
 fence, and finally went up to him, standing silent beside him for a 
 few moments. "I never had a son," he said then gently, "but I 
 think I can understand. I ve seen your boy. He was a noble look 
 ing specimen of a man, Strebling." 
 
 " Yes he was," with a long hysteric breath, " nobody knew Robert 
 but me. Nobody did him justice. Up to the last moment coura 
 geous and merry, to keep my heart up ! For himself he didn t care 
 to live when the cause was lost. His whole soul was with the 
 stars and bars." 
 
 Burley was silent. " God help him," he thought, scanning his 
 companion. "I thought it was partly the loss of the padding and 
 hair-dye had aged him, but he s touched with death. There s not 
 a month s life in him." 
 
 " He led his brigade at Fredericksburg," said Strebling in the 
 same hopeless quaver. " In three reports he was signally mentioned. 
 But what mattered that ? He s dead now; all their praise won t 
 give him back to me. He was all I had," slowly, with a vacant 
 stare into empty space. " There s not a living creature in the world 
 no\v to care whether I live or die." 
 
 " Shall we go to the house ? " gently. 
 
 Strebling put his hands on Joe s arm and leaned heavily on it, as 
 they walked, drawing his breath with difficulty. " It is the first 
 time I have talked of my -boy," he said brokenly. "It would be a 
 relief if you could stay with me a day or two, Burley. But this is 
 a poor place a poor place." 
 
 "It s not that I think of." 
 
 " AVhat s that ? " nervously. " The uncocking of a pistol ! " 
 
 Joe s face burned. " It was my tobacco box I shut. Where are 
 your friends, Colonel Strebling?" 
 
 The feeble eye wandered, " I think they re gone, they don t come 
 nigh me. You and I were old friends, Joe. There was that 
 trouble but that s over and forgotten, and there s been a tie be 
 tween us. " 
 
 At this allusion to Ross, Joe stalked on more quickly in sullen si 
 lence. But he turned by the gate. "I ll not do things by halves. 
 
344 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 I ll go into your house, James Strebling, and stay with you till to 
 morrow." 
 
 Strebling woke at the words, into a feeble alacrity. His cheek 
 reddened, and breath quickened, as he ushered Joe into the house, 
 and welcomed him to the dinner of flitch and spinach with a cordial 
 courtesy that discomfited Burley. "Ther s somethin in blood, 
 after all. Ther s two sides even to this man," he thought. "But 
 ther d be no use trying to convince Rossline of that. She s terrible 
 strong in her prejudices Ross is ! " 
 
 It so happened that Randolph s letter arrived that afternoon. 
 Strebling read, and laid it open on the table. " I am sorry Ran 
 dolph has heard of this matter, and suffers it to trouble him. An 
 old will by which his property was ceded to me. The will was 
 sent to Robert and me a year ago." 
 
 " You mean to act on it ? " with an involuntary stiffness. 
 
 Strebling drew up his bent shoulders haughtily. "The Streb- 
 lings have never been covetous, whatever were their vices. The 
 will was a bit of spite work of a splenetic old man. It would 
 hardly be in accordance with Southern notions of honor to rob a 
 kinsman through it. My son threw it in the fire when it came. He 
 was most anxious that cousin Garrick might never know or be 
 annoyed by it." 
 
 He sat a long time tearing the letter into fragments, his eye? 
 vacant, his lips moving with some half-articulate words, among 
 which Burley distinguished, now and then, the name of his son. 
 
 " When would you be ready to go out yonder with me ? " he 
 whispered at last, nodding to the slope of the hill where he had 
 told Burley Robert was buried. 
 
 The woman of the house beckoned Joe out before they started. 
 " If you could suggest any change in that grave, sir, it would be a 
 kindness. He s worked over it for months, and now when there s 
 not a pebble to lay, or weed to pull, he s sinking faster day by day. 
 His mind s going as quick as his body. You have a message, per 
 haps, from his friends ? He s like to be a heavy charge in nursing 
 on me, and I ve four children, as you see." 
 
 Joe left her, uneasily, and went out to see the poor old man pat 
 ter miserably above the broad, large mound that covered his son. 
 Graves were not to Joe s usual taste. He drew him away. What 
 was to become of the poor creature? " Or, after he s dead," Joe s 
 meditations ran on, " what kin such a half-made, gingerly bein do 
 out ther in that great and dreadful silence ? " The twinge of awful 
 pity that he had for the man, led him to be patiently silent when 
 Slrebling gave another timid hint of the tie between them, and 
 asked eagerly about Joe s home life, not naming Ross, however. 
 
 " I ll live with my grandda ter, now the war s over," Joe said, 
 boldly, at last. " She has a boy now." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 345 
 
 " A boy ? " The old man stood erect, his eye flashing proudly 
 for a moment ; then he sank back into his hopeless quiet. " You 
 are a happy man, Burley," was all lie said. 
 
 Joe told his business that evening. 
 
 " You will find the woman and her son on the next plantation ; 
 take them with you to-morrow. God forbid I should keep father 
 and child apart." Burley had risen to go up to bed ; he turned in 
 the door at these words, looking at Strebling where he sat with his 
 elbows on the table, his gray head dropped on his hands, " Father 
 and child apart ! " He saw that his wrinkled lips repeated the 
 words again, though making no sound. 
 
 Burley came back suddenly and caught his shoulder. "You 
 have another child than the one who is dead " 
 
 Strebling stood on his feet, put him back with one hand with a 
 grave dignity. It is no time to call up old crimes, Joseph Burley. 
 They have gone before me for judgment. I am but a lonely, dying 
 old man. She is my child. There s never been a day of my life 
 when I ve not been hungry for her. Let me alone." 
 
 " It was only " 
 
 " You have been a father to Rosslyn. She and her children will 
 tend you in your old age. I m to die without ever putting my hand 
 upon her head. It is all just, perhaps, yet I didn t mean to be a bad 
 man." The weak treble broke down into absolute silence. After 
 a while he asked Burley gently to lead him up-stairs. " I am not 
 well," he said. 
 
 Joe stepped into the open hall door, looking wistfully out into 
 the night. His deliberation ended with a ponderous nod of the 
 head. " God forbid that I should keep father and child apart," he 
 muttered, and, going in, wrote a telegram to Ross to meet him at 
 Harrisburg. "I will bring a sick man to claim shelter from you." 
 I ll not tell her who it is. Rossline s been bitter agin her father, 
 though she s said nothin . It s downright onchristian in Rossline 
 accordin to my notion. Onchristian." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 INTO THE SILENCE. 
 
 FROM Pittsburg to Harrisburg, Joe was obliged to travel by 
 easy stages. Strebling sank rapidly day by day : nothing, perhaps, 
 but the feverish excitement of the journey kept him alive. "If I 
 had stayed at home I would have had six feet of cold earth on my 
 breast to-day; " he said, " but here I am, alive, and on the way to 
 see my child. I owe this to you, Burley," with a smile and courteous 
 little bow. His effeminate minauderies were not offensive to Joe 
 now: they seemed only patient and gentle on a dying bed. He 
 
346 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 was in bed in a quiet room of a hotel in Harrisburg. Joe 
 lumbering on tip-toe about the bare little apartment, trying to give 
 it a home-like look. The doctor whom he had summoned had gone 
 away, after beckoning him out to the stairway to whisper a few 
 words, which had driven the usual twinkle of dry humor from Joe s 
 eyes. 
 
 " His da ater will be with him to-night, I expect." 
 
 " I hope sKe may not be delayed. In case anything occurs before 
 morning, summon me at once." 
 
 Anny, her firm hand unsteady, was unusually slow in preparing 
 him for the night, came back again and again to adjust the pillows 
 or medicines. " You d best take this drink in to him, Tom," she 
 said, sitting down outside with a little sob. " You ll likely never 
 do nothin agin for ole Mars." 
 
 " Free now, Tom, eh ? " said Strebling, quizzing the boy as usual. 
 
 " Yes, I se free," with solemn, awe-struck eyes, giving him the 
 glass, his warm, yellow hands touching the cold, ringed ones. That 
 drink, and the kind word had all the solemnity of a sacrament to 
 the boy. All his life afterward it would set apart to him slavery 
 from the slaveholder. 
 
 " I didn t tell him nor his mother why we brought them North," 
 said Joe, sitting down on the bed. "Rossline desired it mio-ht be a 
 
 * <? v3 
 
 surprise. Anny s not seen her husband these seven years." 
 
 A pleased smile flitted over the feeble features, which were grow 
 ing slowly, strangely sharp and wan. "A surprise, eh? That was 
 a kindly fancy. A lady is never so graceful as when she plays the 
 part of Providence to the wretched poor. And negroes have their 
 feelings," looking up to Joe. " Something like the instinct of dumb 
 brutes. Yet they have them indubitably. Yes." 
 
 Joe took a reflective chew. " The trouble is in reasonin about 
 niggers that the races is got so mixed down ther with you that you 
 can t draw the line exact between nigger instinct and white feel 
 in s. Now there s no danger of amalgamation with us. The antip- 
 aj:hy s too strong between the colors. Unfortunately it didn t 
 exist in the South." 
 
 But Strebling s eyes wandered as if the subject were of trivial 
 import. " It will all come right, I suppose. There s a place where 
 all things come right." Then he began pushing down the red and 
 green coverlid. "Ask these people, Burley, for a white spread. 
 This is unfit for a lady to see; and that cologne that Anny left on 
 the table, it is a coarse perfume. I prefer the odor of the fresh 
 linen to any other," adjusting the fine cambric about his wrist, and 
 glancing critically at his pink-tipped nails. 
 
 As the evening darkened into night, however, Burley left the 
 bedside oftener, and watched anxiously through the window train 
 after train redden into sight, and disappear in the darkness. Near 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 347 
 
 midnight, however, Strebling touched his hand. " I think there is 
 an arrival," he said, hoarsely. " I hear a woman s voice." 
 
 " I heerd nothing," said Joe, glancing doubtfully at the eager, 
 glittering eyes. Going out, he met Ross coming into the ante-room. 
 She caught him in her arms. She cried and laughed as she used to 
 in the old, stormy-tempered, herb-girl days. She put his rugged 
 face back to look at it, drew his gray hair through her hand. 
 
 " So many years you ve served your country," she sobbed. " But 
 you re mine, now. I have so many ! I have so many ! You and 
 Garrick and our boy. In the morning I ll show you the boy, grand 
 father." 
 
 " Yes, the boy," stammered Joe uneasily. " You don t ask who 
 I have brought you, Rossline ? " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Since you ve had a child, did it never make you think of them 
 whose child you were ? " 
 
 Ross turned on him : a woman s face now, stern and inquiring. 
 Joe nodded assent to her mute query. She drew back from him. 
 " All the loss of my life came from that man," she said, slowly., put 
 ting her hands mechanically behind her. 
 
 " What would you have been worth but for the pain and loss ? " 
 savagely. " You re bitter ; you re onchristian, Rossline. Hear 
 what I ve got to say " 
 
 She stood silent in the shadow of the window while Joe told his 
 story ; stood silent after he had done, after he had touched her hand 
 and said once or twice, "You ll see him, sweetheart ? " 
 
 The sweet, genial heart of her held a stouter and blacker skel 
 eton than Joe dreamed of. Strebling coughed, moaned feebly. 
 Her kindly instinct started up to conquer the old ghost. 
 
 " He needs some one ! Will you go to him ?" 
 
 Joe made no answer. 
 
 She hesitated, and then turned to the door, and, with a grim smile, 
 Joe followed her into the room. The figure in the bed sat up 
 right, the hands clasped together, the filmy eyes on her face. 
 
 " Rossline s sore tried. If he claims her as his child, she d turn 
 from him, though it wur his dyin breath." 
 
 But Strebling s courteous tact was alive, though half of his body 
 was dead. " I am glad to see my friend Burley s granddaughter," 
 he said. "Bring a chair for the young lady, Joseph." 
 
 Ross stood still, holding by the foot-board, her brown eyes 
 on his face. 
 
 " My friend Burley," he said, his eyes wandering and going 
 back to hers, "brought me home with him. He will care for 
 me while I remain here. But the physicians assure me that I will 
 not cumber the ground long. Will I intrude on you, Madam?" 
 
 " You will not intrude," slowly. Ross, like old Joe, did not do 
 
348 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 things by halves. Having said so much, she went round the bed, 
 and put her hands on his forehead. " You will not intrude, father," 
 she said. 
 
 The night passed slowly. It was a healthy, warm Summer s 
 night. Ross, beside the bed, with the nerveless hand in hers, felt 
 a strange lightness in heart, as though some unclean substance had 
 been taken from her, which had been made part of her since her 
 childhood. The world was clean and strong, as if the breath of God 
 had freshly passed through it. Somewhere in the wide night her 
 husband hastened to her; her baby slept; this man who had been 
 her only enemy held her hand close as his soul trembled out into 
 Death ; the blue starlit heaven, and the loving soul of Jesus beyond, 
 bent nearer, nearer over all. 
 
 Strebling was only conscious enough, part of the time, to per 
 ceive the fresh wind, the shaded light, the clear tints of Ross blue 
 dress, and hair, and eyes. Pleasant airs, out of life, fanned him to 
 sleep. Before dawn, however, he looked about him, intelligently. 
 " Burley ! " he called, " what did the doctor call my complaint last 
 night ? They all differ all differ. There s a pressure here," put 
 ting his hand to his forehead; "I cannot account for that symp 
 tom." 
 
 Joe glanced at Rosslyn, and left the room. She wet his lips 
 with wine. He watched her wistfully, put out his finger unseen, 
 with a hungry affection, and touched her arm. 
 
 " I fear," he said, after a while, " it is near the end, my dear ? " 
 She could not answer him. 
 
 He told her presently that he never had seen a woman so tender. 
 She was tender. If she could have put all the love that had been 
 lacking between them into that last hour, she would have done it. 
 When Anny came in he recognized her, and smiled, and when she 
 was gone, took out the diamond studs he wore, and gave them to 
 Ross. " They will provide comforts for the poor creatures." Then 
 he paused, a quick agitation passing over his face. 
 
 " I have nothing to leave. My property may some day be of 
 value ; but the State will take it all unless I could make a will 
 even now ? " 
 
 " It is better not," said Ross, gravely. She would not see the 
 sudden heat of pleasure fade from his face. He took out his watch 
 from under the pillow a plain one, with the case battered by a 
 bullet. 
 
 " My dear," he said, gently, " will you destroy this when I am 
 gone ? It was Robert s. I could not bear it to pass into a stran 
 ger s hands. If there had been one of our blood who could have 
 worn it " 
 
 A fierce struggle between pride and some nobler feeling, as he 
 spoke, had driven the blood from her pale lips. "No," she said, at 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 349 
 
 last, " I will give it to my little boy, and tell him it belonged to a 
 brave man, father." 
 
 Strebling s eyes flashed. " God bless the child ! " he said. 
 
 After a long while he said, looking her steadfastly in the eyes, 
 " I think you have forgiven me. Will you kiss me, Rosslyn ? " 
 
 She kissed him, the tears falling hot and quick. He half raised 
 his hand with a troubled, deprecating smile, and, with the motion 
 incomplete, grew suddenly still, and cold. The weak spirit and 
 weak body had parted, forever. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL 
 
 HOME. 
 
 Ross brushed the last curl on her boy s forehead, as he sat by his 
 grandfather, and then rose from her knees. " Now I am ready," 
 she said, her cheeks red, her eyes brilliant. The house had put on 
 its holiday dress. Aunt Laura, her lace lappets pinned back, was 
 giving the last delighted touches to the breakfast, inside, with her 
 satellites, Matsy and Anny, about her. Ross stood beside Joe on 
 the porch, looking down at the clover fields, and the broad, shining 
 creek below. If she could, by one motion of her arm, have s^iven 
 to all the world their heart s desire, as she had her s that morning ! 
 It seemed only fitting to her that the July day framed her little 
 ftte in floods of golden sunshine ; not because it was her boy s 
 birthday, but she had a dim intuition that to-day the key-note was 
 struck in her husband s life, and that of these other human souls 
 whom she had brought about her, and the tone rang out to her tri 
 umphant and clear. 
 
 She sent to summon Anny. 
 
 " The train is due in half an hour; it is time to prepare her," she 
 said to Joe, with an unsteady laugh. 
 
 " You ve kept your secret well, sweetheart. But there are four 
 millions of these p eople impatient to be helped up and up. What 
 signifies four?" 
 
 "If we all lift a few " nervously. "Don t damp my pleasure. 
 Come, Anny," going down into the field. 
 
 The mulatto followed, Tom close behind. She had dressed her 
 self and him because it was Mrs. Randolph s /dfe-day, and worked 
 hard to carry out her plans ; but her face and step were heavy and 
 worn out as she watched the white lady s delicate figure and radi 
 ant face before her. 
 
 Rosslyn turned to her suddenly. "What brings the tears to 
 your eyes on my holiday ? " 
 
 The woman hesitated. " I was thinking, Missus, that God was 
 good to you. Yer husband was coming back to you " 
 
350 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " Yes, my husband is coming back to me," gently. 
 
 She walked on in silence until she came to a small brick house, set 
 in a square patch of a flower and vegetable garden, and opening 
 the gate, went in. 
 
 " It is a house which my husband will let to a man that he brings 
 with him to-day. A good workman, I believe, with an industrious 
 wife," as she unlocked the door. " The rent will be merely nominal 
 for a year or two. I will find them work and good wages." 
 
 Anny courtesied, seeing that some reply was expected from her. 
 
 "Work and wages enough to enable them to buy the place in 
 time, if they desire it. I would be glad if you and Tom would re 
 main here until the man arrives, and re-arrange the furniture ac 
 cording to your own taste. I bought it for his wife. She is a friend 
 of mine." 
 
 " I ll do my best," said Anny, zealously, taking the key. It was 
 a long time since she and Tom had dreamed their little dream out 
 of a home of their own, to which " he," when he was found, would 
 come ; but the remembrance of it gave zest to this chance of hap 
 piness for strangers. The boy and she entered the cottage, while 
 Ross, w r ith a subdued smile, went back to the house. She walked 
 leisurely, thinking she had yet half an hour to spare. There was 
 no use in going to her grandfather, or the boy ; they were too 
 much taken up with each other to have a word to spare for her. 
 She had yet her childish love of stories, and had tried every day to 
 inveigle Joe into a corner to tell her some of his adventures, but it 
 was always young Joe s time for a bath in the creek, or a canter on 
 the old mule, or an expedition for eggs, or to see the cows milked. 
 
 She gave up to-day in despair, and left them to their own 
 devices. 
 
 Turning up the path through the orchard, her heart throbbed 
 and stood still. She caught sight of a tall, sinewy figure crossing 
 the fields with a quick, elastic step, leaping the fences, whistling 
 like a boy, calling to Aunt Laura on the porch, in his old, merry 
 fashion, pausing at the gate to lift Friend Blanchard from her coupe 
 with a hearty, cordial welcome. Ross ^stopped in the little arbor, 
 and beckoned him to come to her. Her knees trembled, her blood 
 ran faintly, she knew not why, and when he came and took her in 
 his arms, her eyes grew blind as she hid her face on his breast. It 
 was in this arbor the vision of .what he seemed to others, had shown 
 itself to her long ago. But this was the husband she had loved. 
 He had come to her at last. 
 
 He kissed the wet, closed eyes. " What ! crying ? Oh, foolish 
 sweetheart ! Because it is our boy s birthday, and mine f " 
 
 Then both were silent. 
 
 Soon after, the grape leaves were pushed aside, and a gray head 
 and golden one were thrust in side by side. It was hard to tell, Ran- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 351 
 
 dolph thought, which was the ruddiest face, or most in love with 
 life. His heart warmed to the old man as never before, though he 
 had been proud of old Joe s bravery and popularity this many a 
 day. They went up the path to the house, Garrick s hand resting 
 on the shoulder on which the boy was seated. 
 
 "I can t toll you how welcome home again you are, Burley," he 
 repeated, heartily. "Ottley will be out to-day, Ross tells me, and 
 Conrad. We are all especially anxious to hear the truth of that 
 affair at Shiloh " 
 
 " I ll tell you all I know, though that s litile," shifting Joe to 
 the other side. " Do you know," in an eager whisper, " this is the 
 most remarkable little ruffian of ours ? I was afeerd such a lot of 
 women about ud make a milksop of him, but they couldn t, sir. 
 They couldn t ! He s got the build of a great Newfoundland dog, 
 and the courage of one. The child s a study ! " 
 
 " So ? " said Randolph, with an amused glance at his wife. But 
 he liked Burley none the less for it. When the old man lifted the 
 child down he glanced shrewdly from father to son. 
 
 " I be n t afeerd of Joe when his time of trial comes," he thought 
 secretly. " He s got his mother s straightforward eyes and merciful 
 mouth, and ther s the true honor for you ! " 
 
 " We ll begin life afresh, Rosslyn," her husband said. " The pro 
 perty in Kentucky, although it remains ours, is left valueless by the 
 war. But I ve heart for work now. I ll open my laboratory to 
 morrow. " It is hardly fair," he added, laughing. " All dramas, 
 from the old fairy stories to the last novel, end in a glitter of 
 gold." 
 
 "Except the real ones which God orders," she said. "They of- 
 tenest end in love, plenty of hard work, and the poor at your gate." 
 
 "Here are Nathan and his father at ours," he said, turning 
 toward the road. " I came across the fields to gain a moment with 
 you alone. And this little girl " he stopped short, remembering 
 he had just told his wife that they were penniless, while the child, 
 with her frightened little face and outlandish dress, shrank fartlier 
 back into a corner of the fence. "I brought Jnney home to live 
 with us, Rosslyn." 
 
 Ross asked not a single question, even with her eyes. She put 
 her arms around the poor baby and kissed her. " I ve often wished 
 for just such a little girl to have for my own. I ve a little white 
 bed ready for you to sleep on, Janey," and kept the thin little hand 
 in hers all day. 
 
 Thgn she shook hands with Nathan and his father. " You will 
 come in with me for a little while," she said to Hugh. Her voice 
 trembled a little as she turned to the tired, cowed, little man be 
 side him. "There is a phice made ready for you in the cottage 
 yonder. You have had a long journey. I hope you will find rest 
 
352 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 there." And they all stood and watched him as he went slowly 
 across the fields toward his home. 
 
 It was a bright little room in which Anny found herself when 
 the door closed behind her, a sort of keeping room into which the 
 tidy kitchen opened. There was a blue and oak rag carpet on the 
 floor, chintz-covered chairs, a shelf with books, and some simple 
 vases with trailing, scarlet flowers, and one or two cheerful pictures 
 on the white wall. Anny was a born housekeeper. She grew 
 heated and eager over the little home, though she made it ready for 
 strangers, went through the two bedrooms giving a careful glance 
 to the strong, white sheets, the snowy boards of the floor, the shin 
 ing little mirrors, then spread the table and placed on it the 
 materials for dinner, which she found in the cupboard. It was long 
 since she had shed a tear over her own poor plan of a home with 
 Nathan and her boy, but this was very like that old fancy ! and it 
 had been so idle and childish in a freed slave! Nathan lay long 
 ago dead in some pit of the battle fields. 
 
 She placed the last dish on the cosy little table, then tied on her 
 bonnet to go. Tom came in walking stiffly erect as usual, to hide 
 his small height. " Ther s a boy among the folks that s coining 
 here to live," he said, " I see a sled and a box of tools and here s them 
 books." He passed his forefinger with a wistful look across their 
 backs. 
 
 "Kin you not read the back of one of them, sonny boy ? " 
 
 He shook his head, with a long breath. "Wher you goin , 
 Mammy ? You look as if dar wur a ghost fur you in dis house. 
 Hyur comes de man dat owns it ! " peering eagerly out of the 
 window. " I ll go meet him ; I ll bring him in." 
 
 The stooped little man outside of the door put his hand on his 
 head. " Dar s a fine fellow ! I se come to live wid you, my little 
 man ! " 
 
 "Wher s yer people?" demanded Tom. "We ve bin makin 
 ready for you all." 
 
 " I se got no people. Dar s only my ole father an me." He 
 stopped, passed his gaudy handkerchief over his forehead, and 
 stood in the door looking vacantly down the road as if he had for 
 gotten to go in. 
 
 " My mother s inside," stooping to pick a dandelion ball. The 
 man turned, as if soul and body were tired alike, and, passing 
 slowly through the little room, opened the door beyond. 
 
 Tom, outside, heard a moment a low, stifled cry, and then there 
 was a great silence. 
 
 The sun set redly on Ross holiday ; threw cool, broad shadows 
 of the great walnut trees across the grassy slope in front of Na 
 than s little cottage, where they all had gathered. The far quiet 
 of night brooded in the dulling, melancholy horizon, in the dark- 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 353 
 
 ening woods, in the drowsy murmur of the distant water courses, 
 a low harvest moon set its crescent in the gray west; but near at 
 hand the crimson light flamed against the windows, the falling dew 
 called out the fragrance of the clover-fields ; the birds, whose nests 
 
 O 7 
 
 were up in the walnut trees, chirped good night, and woke to chirp 
 it again. Nathan stood beside old Joe, who had his boy asleep on 
 his knee. The mulatto was silent, but his eyes followed Tom and 
 his mother unceasingly, with a hunger yet unsatisfied. 
 
 " Anny is your wife at .last, Nathan ? " said Joe. 
 
 "Yes, suh. Mr. Conrad, he said dem words to-day. But dey 
 could n t make us nearer than we was before. Pears to me, suh," 
 after a pause, " Tom s uncommon large for his years. His mother 
 she was feared I d think him sickly. Now, I tink I neber saw a 
 boy as fine growed." 
 
 Hugh, who was sitting in a great wooden chair, near the door, 
 his gray head nodding over his usual wide, white collar, looked 
 gravely at Tom, playing at his feet. " He s got de skill ob de fam 
 ily. I allays knowed he d come back to me." 
 
 "lie takes him for my brother," whispered Nathan. "He don t 
 seem to understan de new life beginnin , nor de home, nor me, nor 
 Anny. De little lad he lost fills up de world for him." 
 
 " The Good Man is mighty tender with us old folks," said Joe. 
 " He ginerally sends a little child to lead us softly down into the 
 dark valley." He held the curly head closer to his breast, and was 
 silent. 
 
 " I ve had a strange feelin ," said Nathan, lowering his voice, " all 
 of to-day, that before it was over my brother would come back to 
 us." 
 
 "I always thought he d come back," said Joe, sententiously. 
 " It s not nateral that a man with his body tingling with life like 
 his was should go down into the darkness, and make no sign." 
 
 " I tink he ll come to-night," said the mulatto, his eyes fixed on 
 the far shadow. "He was keener to hear and see than oder men. 
 I tink, alive or dead, lie ll know how some of us here missed him 
 dis day." He turned away quickly. 
 
 Rosslyn stood, with Anny, under a great willow ; its trailing 
 branches sifted the light in flickering gleams over her delicate dress 
 and the tender beauty of her face; the homely, yellow features of 
 the mulatto were in shadow. The two women had been talking 
 together for a long time; there had been tears in their eyes more 
 than once. " There can be no alms-giving from me to you," Ross 
 lyn had said at the end. " We all owe to each other a debt, and I 
 but try to pay it." 
 
 Then she turned to the vast sweep of landscape over which the 
 solemn shadows were slowly falling, and stood silently looking at 
 it. "My boy has a grand inheritance," she said at last, half to 
 23 
 
354 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 herself. " To breathe this free air is of itself a birthright for 
 him." 
 
 "Missus ?" the mulatto hesitated. 
 
 Ross turned to her, attentive. 
 
 " Kin you say the same of mine ? I m not ungrateful, God 
 knows," hastily. " Freedom and elo s, and a home of our own, is 
 ranch. But it s not all. Forgive me. A mudder kerries her chile s 
 life on her heart when he s a man, jes as before he was born ; you 
 know dat. I wondered what was my boy s birthright in dis country." 
 
 " I understand," said Ross, gently. 
 
 " Dar s power in Tom s head, Missus, and dar s bad passions in 
 his blood, and ef dar s no work given to de one, de oder has its 
 work ready. He must be a man or a beast, an dat soon. I tink 
 of it night an day. I m his mudder. Dar s four millions of his 
 people like him ; waitin for de whites to say which dey shall be 
 men or beasts. Waitin for the verdict, madam." 
 
 " I might say the same of my child," uneasily. 
 
 Anny s jaws grew gray. "I ll speak de truf," with an effort. 
 " De blood s different. Your chile has no slave blood in his veins ; 
 and de slave was drove, generation after generation, to lyin and 
 thievin an lust by de whip of de master. De white man had his 
 books and his politics, and hunderds of ways open fur workin or 
 pleasure ; de black man had only his victuals, an dances and viler 
 ways I ken t mention. It s told on our blood. De debt de whites 
 owes us is to give us a chance to show what stuff s in us. Your 
 chile has every chance open to him ; but dar s few schools in de 
 country beside dem kept by de Quakers dat will admit a cullored 
 boy or girl. Dey calls us lazy an idle, but wher s de mechanics 
 shop or factory open for Tom to learn a trade ? What perfession 
 is free to him ? His hands is tied. His father giv his blood free 
 for de country," proudly. " He has a right to ask de chance for 
 his son dat neber was gib to himself! " 
 
 " The negroes will be given a vote," confidently. 
 
 " I don see what real use to dem dat is yet," gravely, " only to 
 make dem feel dey is men. It s edication my people needs, and 
 ways for work. It s de fever time wid em now in de Souf ; dey s 
 mad for de chance to learn. Ole men an young stretch out dere 
 hands for de books. It won t last if dey re balked now ; dey ll 
 sink back lower dan before ; dey ll take to drinking and brutishness. 
 Ef you sweep out de room and keep it empty, de seven debbils 11 
 enter in, an de state ob dat man 11 be worse dan de first. De next 
 five years is de trial day for us, an a little help now ud do more 
 than millions after a while." 
 
 " I think," Ross hesitated, " one reason of the coolness with which 
 the whites listen to your cry for help is, the dislike to the thoughts 
 of intermarriage." 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 355 
 
 " Bar s no danger of many marriages," said Anny, gravely and 
 significantly ; " an as for mixin de blood, it s been the fault ob de 
 whites when dat eber was done. Dar ll be less of it when cullored 
 women is larned to respect themselves. O, Missus ! dat talk of 
 marry in is sech a fur-off shadder ! But the ignorance an disgrace 
 ob my people is no shadder ! " 
 
 Ottley, with Mr. Conrad, had strolled within hearing. He 
 listened with a pitying Humph ! " It s curious," he said, " how 
 deep and wide the feeling is among the colored people that now 
 is their day of salvation, and the desperate, pathetic efforts the 
 upper classes among them are making for the chance to try 
 what stuff is in them, as she says. I heard you preach a mis 
 sionary sermon last night, Conrad. I think the freedman stretch 
 ing out his hands to know whether he shall be man or brute for 
 future generations, is the most real cry for help now, to us, in the 
 world." 
 
 "The niggers in Baker Street that Margaret teaches are real 
 enough ! " muttered the old man. His conscience wrenched him 
 as he said it. If Meg had gone out bearing the church s alms and 
 good tidings to any heathen river or palmy plain, he would have 
 held her as a martyr. But going down to her eight-by-ten darkey 
 school-room, or to Georgia rice-fields Pah ! 
 
 " I had a dispatch from young Markle, at Washington," said 
 Ottley. " His regiment is discharged. I look for him here to 
 night." 
 
 A quick change flashed over the blind man s face. "Broderip 
 will come with him ! I had a presentiment that he would be here 
 to-day." 
 
 Both men turned, involuntarily, glancing at a woman s figure 
 Bitting on the brink of the stream below. 
 
 "If Broderip came to her now?" said Ottley, doubtfully. 
 "After all that he has done ? " 
 
 " It would avail nothing. The negro blood is between them. 
 And yet" 
 
 " No, Markle will win her in time," Ottley broke in, hurriedly. 
 " No woman can withstand a persistent, healthy, honest love, such 
 as he gives her." 
 
 " I do not know," absently. " It grows late," passing his hand 
 uneasily over his sightless eyes. " I feel the wind rising. I think 
 Broderip will come to-night. The blind have another sense than 
 yours, and I have felt my old friend drawing nearer to me all day." 
 
 " Your day is nearly over, sweetheart," said Randolph, as he 
 came for her to bring them all into the house, whose warm, lighted 
 doors stood hospitably open. " The dew is falling, and the sun is 
 almost down." 
 
 " I will go for Margaret,* said Ottley, and then stopped sud- 
 
356 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 denly; the whistle of the train by which Markle was to arrive 
 came through the cut in the hill. The two men stood waiting with 
 anxious faces. 
 
 "Do you see him?" said Conrad, with a breathless, hurried 
 movement. " Is he alone ? Some sign or word must come to-night 
 from John Broderip out of the darkness, Ottley ! " 
 
 Ottley did not answer ; he bent forward watching a shadow dis 
 entangle itself from the gathering twilight, and cross the fields in 
 the valley below, pausing a moment, and then going direct to the 
 place where Margaret sat. 
 
 It was the spare, straight figure of the young Lieutenant, and he 
 was alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 JOHN BRODEEIP. 
 
 ABOVE, an April day, as God sent it; bright with sunshine, and 
 moist with dew : depth after depth, in the heaven, if any eye had 
 cared to look up, unfolding their meaning of unending quiet and 
 calm. Below, the April day, as man made it. A day, heavy with 
 impure sights and sounds; the low, rolling masses of cannon-smoke 
 driven across the creeping river and flattisli hills by the heavier 
 fumes and smoke of burning houses ; the air throbbing dully in the 
 crowded streets and lanes, shaken at intervals by the roar of an 
 exploded mine ; stench driving stench ; flame following flame, and 
 by their light, masses of black faces lining the streets watching the 
 entrance of a negro regiment. There was the ordinary mixture of 
 the absurd with the terrible; the town, with its country build of 
 houses and ill-paved streets, seemed insignificant enough to eyes 
 accustomed to Northern cities ; it seemed hardly credible that the 
 passage of this handful of troops through this mile of street consti 
 tuted the culmination of one of the great crises of the world s his 
 tory ; that as the black regiment entered Richmond, every footfall 
 made sure the freedom of a race and the perpetuity of a govern 
 ment. 
 
 Markle, who had been detailed for the day on Gen. Weitzel s 
 staff, sneered as his horse waded through the gutters, and 
 choked in the stifling smoke. It was hard for the downright fellow 
 to idealize the death struggle of an aristocratic government in these 
 shrieking women, or the birth of a new people in the bodies of half- 
 frightened, half-delighted negroes capering from square to square 
 in the abandoned finery of their masters. Through the struggling 
 mass and over their heads, the yellow, sulphurous smoke eddied and 
 rolled, and through the tumult, the timed clangor of the wind 
 instruments sounded like the panting of an animal led captive, 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 357 
 
 rather than music. " It is the death wail of slavery ! " said a young 
 Ohioan, who rode abreast with Markle, his eyes kindling. "It was 
 a wonderful stroke of poetic justice that yon black regiment should 
 be the first to enter Richmond, and enter, too, with such grave and 
 solemn calm. I saw one, a young officer who led the front, who 
 seemed to me the very incarnation of his people s triumph. A 
 thin, small mulatto, who had just been released from a Southern 
 prison, they told me ; his face was meagre, and starved, and yel 
 low, but it had all the tragedy of his race in it. Whatever these 
 brutes may be," nodding to the thick-lipped, credulous faces about 
 his stirrups, " that man carried all their loss and all their triumph 
 in his soul to-day. A shot from the sidewalk struck him down, but 
 he bade them lift him on his horse again, and he rode in at the 
 head of his men." 
 
 Markle, telling this story in his own way to Miss Conrad, as 
 she sat on the bank of the creek, in the evening twilight, paused 
 here. 
 
 She neither moved nor spoke. 
 
 He drew himself erect as if bracing his strength and went on, 
 faithfully as he had done before, omitting no particular. 
 
 " I was used to young Petrie s enthusiasm and exaggerated talk, 
 but this story impressed me more than usual. I thought 1 
 recognized the man. It was nearly a year since I had lost sight of 
 Doctor Broderip. Before that we had often gone into battle side 
 by side. He fought desperately, cool and daring as a tiger. In 
 all the war I knew no braver man." 
 
 "You need not dwell on what he is. I know all that you would 
 say." 
 
 The heat faded in Markle s face. " As soon as I could leave my 
 post I went in search of the wounded man. I found him without 
 difficulty. As I thought, it was Broderip. The men of his com 
 pany, had carried him out of the reach of the smoke and confusion 
 to a patch of delicate green grass just beginning to color the side 
 of the hill back of the town, and had heaped their coats to make 
 a support for his back, lie held out his hand to me with his old 
 eager smile. Our work is done, done to-day, comrade, he said. 
 
 "Haifa dozen big black fellows were about him, trying in a cu 
 riously gentle way, to make his body easier; they drew off shyly 
 when the white men came near, but waited a few steps off, watch 
 ing him anxiously. 
 
 " They brought half of the company s rations for my dinner, he 
 Baid, with a quizzical, affectionate laugh, pointing to the piles of 
 army bread and meat on a stone near him. 
 
 " Farr, the surgeon, who was looking at his wound, said : I wish 
 they or I could do more for you, Doctor Broderip ! The two men 
 had been friends in the North. 
 
358 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 " A little water and this cool air, lie said. * I ll need no more. 
 But my veins are on fire. This blood of mine, looking up with a 
 smile, will be troublesome to the last. 
 
 " FaiT turned pale. Yes. But you will be done with it in a few 
 hours. Thank God ! there is no such thing as race yonder. 
 
 " Broderip was silent. In a few hours, did you say, George ? J 
 he asked, after a while. The surgeon nodded, and turned away. 
 There was a long silence after that." 
 
 Markle stopped, his eyes bent on the ground. Miss Conrad 
 had risen as he spoke, and stood leaning against the trunk of a 
 tree, her pale, controlled face turned to the south. He glanced at 
 it ; even in that moment his lover s eye saw tender, womanly lines 
 there, which he had never seen before. " She is terribly alone ; she 
 is famished with solitude," he thought, and his heart throbbed. 
 She motioned him to go on ; he began to speak again, careful, as 
 before, lest by some word too little he might be dishonest to the 
 honor of his rival. 
 
 "I m not a man given to fancy; but it seemed to me," he said 
 gently, " that the air grew softer after that as it touched the face 
 lying on the heaped up coats, and the ripple of the river louder, 
 and the sunlight more cheery, as if Nature had loved the man, and 
 was glad he was coming home again. One of the negroes came 
 up, regardless of the presence of the whites, and squatting down, 
 took one of Broderip s delicate hands in his yellow palms. The 
 strong features of his race came out by contrast, the sensual lips, 
 the melancholy brow. This man was with me in the Strebling 
 stables, Broderip said to us. Half of my life belongs to him. 
 It seems but a little while ago since you and I were currying old 
 Thunder, eh, Zed ? The negro choked as he tried to answer. 
 Fair stood up with a muttered exclamation. 
 
 " Broderip looked up quickly at him. No ; they were not years 
 wasted, he said. 
 
 " I know what your life would have been worth to science and 
 the world, the other surgeon said, almost roughly. If it were 
 not for this accident of birth, you would not have been here to-day, 
 dying nameless and unknown. 
 
 " No, I would not have been here to-day, he said softly. * But 
 it was given to me to die for my people to me ! " and his pale 
 hazel eyes grew brilliant as they never were in life, with a look 
 before which we stood awed and silent. He looked up at Farr, 
 presently, and said : I ve been a happy man since I came among 
 my own a happy man, George ; and I have lived to see the free 
 dom of my race to-day. Farr told me afterward, that that one 
 thought of his race had seemed to absorb all others ; the finding 
 of that work in life had renewed the man ; made him pure, strong 
 and humble beyond belief of any who had known him in other 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 359 
 
 days. To the last, his eye lighted when a black face passed before 
 him, and maintained a keen, sorrowful scrutiny of them. I saw 
 the same look when a group of poor whites came near. * It was a 
 two-edged sword, slavery, he said, * and cut down the master and 
 the slave. O, the work that, is needed here ! and the infinite pity, 
 infinite pity ! Once he said to Farr, there are latent elements 
 of great strength in my people, if they are developed aright ; they 
 are a generous, imaginative, affectionate race, and faithful to God 
 as they knew Him. I hoped to have done something for them. 
 But there are others who will do the work. When the day was at 
 the turn, he began to sink when the sun was near its height " 
 
 She bowed with the same abstracted look in her eyes. They 
 might have been those of a seer, he fancied. " I know the hour 
 I knew it when it came," speaking to herself. 
 
 " We knew then that his strength was gone." 
 
 So far, Markle had gone on earnestly, without break or hindrance, 
 in his recital ; but he stopped now, the blood leaving his bearded 
 face, his voice becoming low and strenuous. "Miss Conrad, 
 hitherto I have spoken but of my friend and yours that is dead. It 
 is no time to speak of myself." 
 
 She turned, looking at him. 
 
 " Another time I will urge upon you claims with which the past 
 has nothing to do. If I advert to them now, or if I brought them 
 before Doctor Broderip in his last hour, it was because I felt that 
 before Death there should be no concealments. 1 may have been 
 wrong I am a blunt man " 
 
 The shadow of a smile passed over her colorless face. 
 
 " You will pardon me if this matter is dragged before you in an 
 unseemly manner. My business to-night is but to tell you this 
 story : my own chance for a new life can wait. But it seemed 
 honorable to speak of it plainly to Doctor Broderip. My instincts, 
 it may be, are not so keen as his were." 
 
 " As they are," she said quietly. " Some day my friend will come 
 to me ; and with all his whims, with all his moods, as he left me. 
 There is no such word as dead, to me." 
 
 Markle looked at her with a puzzled face for a moment, and then 
 went on, clearing his throat. " I went to him where he lay, and 
 stooped down, while the others drew apart. I said some words to 
 him. They were of you, Miss Conrad. I told him that when the 
 war was over, I would seek to make you my wife. But if, out of 
 the old love he bore you, he had a message to send you, I would 
 carry it faithfully. 
 
 " I know you would, Markle, he said, and then his eyes wan- 
 dered off, and rested on the distant sky line. The words I had 
 spoken cost me great pain and difficulty, Miss Conrad. I thought 
 if the feeling you had for him had begun to fade, his message would 
 
360 WAITING FOR THE VERDICT. 
 
 revive it. But I thought it was the right thing to do. Any right 
 thing seemed easy to do by the side of John Broderip, dying. I 
 repeated the words, I will carry it faithfully. 
 
 " There is no need for any word to pass from me to Margaret," 
 he said, smiling. Long afterward, however, when the thoughts in 
 his brain came to his lips without his will, as they do in dying, he 
 whispered your name with great tenderness, and beckoned rne 
 nearer, groping in the bosom of his shirt for this string of shells. 
 Give them to her from me, he said." 
 
 Markle held out the little toy to her, his face paler than hers 
 when he gave it. She hid it in her large, nervous hand, her eyes 
 still turned to the South. It was noticeable that she never looked 
 to the speaker, but listened as if some message came to her from a 
 presence invisible to him. 
 
 He spoke now with an effort. "He was greatly emaciated by 
 his long confinement. -His body looked puny enough when we laid 
 him down on the pile of coats, being too weak to sit up longer. 
 His eyes wandered over the pale blue sky, which was bright now 
 with the Spring sunshine. We stood about him in silence/knowing 
 the end was near, the poor negroes holding their breath, and 
 watching first his face, and then ours, to know if there was any 
 chance. Once, seeing his lips move, I bent close to listen ; he was 
 muttering incessantly of c his people his people. After that, he 
 looked up faintly, and asked the time. 
 
 " Farr told him, Eleven. Yours is a broken day, Doctor Brode 
 rip, he added, bitterly. 
 
 " A quick smile flickered over his face ; sudden of apprehension 
 to the last. A broken day, he said, faintly, But it is near noon, 
 George, near noon ! and in a moment or two, stretching out his 
 hand, he took Fair s in his own, turned his head gently on one side, 
 and closed his eyes. 
 
 " That was all." ^ 
 
 He left her for a time, thinking it dishonorable to even glance 
 into her face. 
 
 He walked along the dark, slow-dropping river, and then turned 
 upthrough the fields. The windows of the little tenant house 
 were open, and within he saw Nathan s smiling face with his wife s 
 close beside it, both listening to some talk of Tom s, while the gray- 
 headed old man nodded solemnly in the corner. A little farther 
 on, the red light streamed from Ross happy home such a home 
 as he hoped to make for the woman he loved. He caught a glimpse 
 of Conrad and Ottley, but he did not go in. He was in no mood 
 to give pleasure to old friends, he thought ; he had tried to be 
 honest and unenvious to-night, yet there was a dull uncertainty, an 
 ache at his heart, new to it, which was different from any wound 
 in battle. 
 
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT 861 
 
 A sudden chiming sound just then filled the air ; o was only the 
 bells upon a great wagon which old Burley, and tte golden -haired 
 little boy on his shoulder, were ringing in the stable ; yt he saw 
 Ross start up from the fireside and come to the window, with a 
 light in her face as if she had heard prophetic music from her child 
 hood, or from the heavenly hills. 
 
 Markle turned, and went back to Margaret. " I am going to 
 leave you," he said abruptly. "I came to say good-night. Some 
 day I will come to you again." 
 
 " Good-night." She detained him with her hand ; the grasp was 
 warm and frank. A sweet and gracious womanhood which he had 
 never felt in her before, breathed from her, the content of one 
 whose work and reward in life were sure and sufficing. 
 
 " You must come to me again," she said. " I know you for all 
 that you are, my friend." 
 
 He made her no reply. Far up the road, however, in the shade 
 of the hill, he turned, and looked down at the cheerful lights and 
 the motionless figure sitting again by the side of the current, hei 
 hands clasped about her knees, her eyes turned to the south. He 
 watched her until the low moon showed him the strange strength 
 in her tender face, and the uninterpreted meanings that in thes* 
 later years spoke from it. Is it work she has found to do that 
 daily gives to her fresh breaths of life from God ? Will she 
 some day be the stronger, more loving wife and mother because 
 she has been one of God s helpers? 
 
 Or, is it that the dead speaks to her, and that she makes answer 
 as she will never do to his living love ? 
 
 The little soldier draws a long, brave breath as he turns away. 
 Come what may, what better thing is there for a manly man to do 
 than to share in her despised work ? 
 
 Broderip, in his grave yonder, has not saved his people from 
 their balked, incomplete lives. The country which he and they 
 have served is still silent, while they stand waiting its verdict. 
 Does that mean that he, George Markle, in any village in America 
 can to-day find Christ s very work to do ; find His obloquy, and, in 
 God s good time, His reward ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 AUG 8 19 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY 
 FORM NO. DD6, 60m, 1/83 BERKELEY, CA 94720 
 
M500122 
 
 
 
 GENERAL LIBRARY -U.C. BERKELEY 
 
 BDDDfl3ElSb 
 
 fc.