STRANGER 
 
 CALDWELL
 
 THE STRANGER
 
 THE STRANGER 
 
 By J. F. J. CALDWELL 
 
 Author of "The History of a Brigade" 
 
 New York and Washington 
 
 THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 1907 
 
 n
 
 Copyright, 1907, 
 BY THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
 
 THE STRANGER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Julia Field, fourteen years of age, naturally 
 grew weary of sitting silent, in the twilight, before 
 the smoldering fire. And so, after many impa- 
 tient sighs, she sprang up, exclaiming, "Will Tom 
 never come !" 
 
 Receiving no answer, she walked to the bow- 
 window, stared at the white, smooth highway, the 
 lights that glimmered in the neighboring farm- 
 houses, the leaden clouds and the volume of de- 
 scending snow, strummed on the window pane, 
 cooled the tip of her nose against it, and hummed 
 a little. Finally, deriving no information or com- 
 fort from these performances, she returned to the 
 hearth, crying again, "Mamma ! Eleanor ! Do you 
 think Tom will ever come?" 
 
 "My dear," replied her mother, with a sigh 
 and a smile, "I have no reason to think your 
 brother will fail to do what he has so often done 
 in wilder weather than this." 
 
 "But it is nearly dark," urged Julia, "and the 
 snow is a foot deep, and the wind is blowing a 
 hurricane." 
 
 "He will come before long, no doubt," said 
 Mrs. Field. 
 
 "But he ought to hurry," persisted Julia; 
 "the weather is horrible, and he knows we are all 
 waiting for that dreadful letter." 
 
 "Eleanor, not you, is the proper person to com- 
 
 2134810
 
 6 THE STRANGER 
 
 plain of the delay, and she bears it patiently," said 
 Mrs. Field, mildly. 
 
 "Oh!" cried Julia, "Eleanor could sit calm and 
 cheerful if she expected a summons to the north 
 pole or darkest Africa! I'm not a philosopher!" 
 
 "All things come to those who wait," said the 
 elder sister, smiling. 
 
 "Oh, bother!" exclaimed Julia. "I don't want 
 the letter to come; for I know it will tell you to 
 come right away to that detestable South, to be 
 snubbed, and starved, and scared, and perhaps Ku 
 Kluxed. But I know it will come ; and I want it 
 over. If you've got to be torn away from our 
 sweet Connecticut Valley, and killed down there 
 by rebels and bushwhackers, I want you to get 
 ready to die, and mamma and me to prepare for 
 your death that's all." 
 
 "And that's quite enough, to be sure," re- 
 turned Eleanor, laughing. "The victim ought to 
 be promptly prepared for the sacrifice, and her 
 afflicted family should not be delayed in the prepa- 
 ration for their bereavement. You are more of a 
 philosopher than 
 
 "I do believe there is the old boy," interrupted 
 Julia, and rushed out of the room, and out of the 
 house, banging doors and upsetting a chair in her 
 impetuous course. 
 
 After a few moments she returned, fairly drag- 
 ging her brother, a tall, athletic fellow, and cry- 
 ing: "I knew he had that hateful letter! He 
 won't give it to me; but he shall surrender it to 
 Eleanor, so we can hear what misery is fixed for 
 us." Eleanor took the letter, opened the envel-
 
 THE STRANGER 7 
 
 ope, unfolded three sheets of large letter-paper, 
 and read it through in silence. 
 
 At last she said, in a somewhat unsteady voice : 
 "The letter is from my friend Agnes Meacham. 
 It is not altogether cheerful or encouraging ; but 
 it does not describe quite as gloomy a prospect as 
 Julia suspects." 
 
 "Why don't you read it?" inquired the latter, 
 petulantly. "Let us judge for ourselves." 
 
 "You are right," returned her sister, and she 
 read it to them: 
 
 " 'My dear, dear Eleanor : 
 
 " 'I have delayed in answering your letter of 
 2 ist ult, because I have been anxious to give you 
 all the arguments pro and con in the matter of the 
 school at Cherenden, about which we have been 
 corresponding. Captain Meacham and his gar- 
 rison his company of about a hundred men 
 are stationed, as you know, at Upton, the county- 
 seat. Cherenden is twelve miles northeast of this 
 town, and two miles from the railroad station. 
 We have, therefore, very little personal acquaint- 
 ance with the people or affairs of that village. 
 The Captain has been there several times during 
 our six months' residence here ; but I have been 
 there only once, and know absolutely nothing of 
 any person in the village. The population is 
 about five hundred, the majority of whom are col- 
 ored people, but there is said to have been much 
 wealth there until the close of the war princi- 
 pally in land and slaves. Several families owning 
 large and valuable plantations near the village 
 lived there, while several others lived on their
 
 8 THE STRANGER 
 
 plantations within two or three miles of the vil- 
 lage. They were, I am informed, an intelligent 
 and refined people, proud of their blood, and not 
 very liberal of any opinions conflicting with their 
 institutions or traditions, but at the same time 
 frank, hospitable and generous, the men brave 
 and courtly, the women virtuous and dignified. 
 But they were all secessionists, and they lost 
 many of their young men in the war, a good 
 deal of their property being burned or carried 
 away when the Union army passed through in 
 1865 (by stragglers and bummers we know, for 
 the troops did not march within several miles of 
 the village) ; and finally, they lost their most val- 
 uable possessions in the emancipation of their 
 slaves. It is not surprising, therefore, that the 
 people of the community have no liking for 
 Northern people, for they no doubt imagine that 
 all of us are of the same kind as those who burnt 
 their dwellings, plundered their barns and meat- 
 houses, and carried off their horses and cattle.' ' 
 
 "That's very silly," volunteered Julia, in a tone 
 of contempt. 
 
 ''I ought, however,'" resumed the reader, 
 " 'to say that George (that's my husband, the Cap- 
 tain) says that he has found the men there whom 
 he has met quite intelligent and courteous fully 
 equal, in spite of the isolated situation, to any he 
 has seen in any Southern city.' ' 
 
 "I have no doubt of it !" exclaimed Julia, scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 "Not very hard to believe !" grumbled Tom in 
 his deep bass voice. 
 
 Eleanor read on : " 'We know nothing of the
 
 THE STRANGER 9 
 
 ladies of the place. My only meeting with any of 
 them, except Mrs. Anderson, the hotelkeeper's 
 wife, has been on the street, where almost all of 
 them stared at me for a moment, gathered their 
 skirts close, and gave me an abundance of room 
 on the sidewalk.' ' 
 
 "And Mrs. Meacham is the prettiest and sweet- 
 est woman in the world !" cried Julia. 
 
 "Amen, ma soeur," responded Eleanor; "but 
 don't interrupt." 
 
 " 'The Captain says they have a nice school- 
 house, with two large school-rooms and one pri- 
 vate room for the teacher, located about five hun- 
 dred yards from the "public square" or business 
 part of the village, in a large grove of fine oaks. 
 The trustees, who are men of substance, guaran- 
 tee the teacher forty dollars per month, with the 
 expectation of raising it if her teaching and man- 
 agement prove satisfactory. These trustees say 
 that Northern birth and rearing will not matter 
 to them. Fuel, school furniture and all other ap- 
 pliances will be provided by the trustees. The 
 salary will be paid at the end of each month. 
 Right good board and lodging can be had at the 
 hotel for twenty-five dollars per month, including 
 fuel and lights; and Mrs. Anderson says she will 
 also have your washing included, if you come. 
 
 " 'The village, I should add, is located on high 
 ground, in a hill country, is well drained (by na- 
 ture, of course), and is quite healthy. 
 
 " 'Now, on the other hand, the prospect is not 
 very inviting, because of the temper of the people. 
 What is commonly called "social ostracism" 
 throughout the South is practised in all its sever-
 
 io THE STRANGER 
 
 ity in such back-country settlements as this. Men 
 from the North can get along pretty well with men 
 here, in business transactions. The Captain says 
 that he never found more truthfulness, fairness 
 and uprightness, in business, than he sees here, 
 and that good breeding shows almost universally 
 among the men provided a Northern man keeps 
 clear of politics. But I have never seen anything 
 like the quiet, silent scornfulness of the women 
 toward all of us. One glance is all they vouch- 
 safe me. When I meet one on the street she gives 
 me an icy look, gathers her skirts, gazes into the 
 distance, and passes on. I saw one of them leave 
 her pocket-book lying at the railroad ticket 
 office here, in Upton, and she was hurrying toward 
 the approaching train. I picked up the dainty 
 little thing and hurried to hand it to her, telling 
 her she had left it. She bowed profoundly and 
 exclaimed, "Oh! I am so much obliged to you. 
 You are very, very kind," in a tone that almost 
 froze me. And she was a handsome, well-dressed 
 and very modest-looking person ! On another oc- 
 casion, at the hotel, I fell into a conversation with 
 a pretty, lady-like woman, at' the table, in the 
 Captain's absence, and enjoyed greatly her sweet 
 voice and her cordiality and grace of manner. 
 The moment the Captain (in his uniform, of 
 course) came and sat down beside me, addressing 
 me in words which indicated our relation, the 
 woman's countenance settled into a fixed, hard 
 expression, and her reluctant response to my next 
 remark to her told me plainly that our conversa- 
 tion was at an end.' ' 
 
 "The vixen !" cried Julia.
 
 THE STRANGER ii 
 
 " 'Now,' " continued the letter, " 'a man may do 
 pretty well without social attentions, and even 
 without social recognition; but can a woman 
 that is, a woman of your pride, your sensibility, 
 your frank nature and your rearing? Can you 
 beloved and sought after all your life stand iso- 
 lated, shut off, ostracised by the women of the 
 community? I think not, my dearest Eleanor; 
 and though I should be most delighted to have 
 you so near that I might often look into your 
 brown eyes and hear your voice, I must say that 
 I dare not encourage you to come here. Your 
 wages would be paid ; perhaps you would be able 
 to control your scholars; no one would do you 
 bodily harm, or actually insult you; but I really 
 believe that you would pine and die under the un- 
 broken, inflexible, cruel ostracism I have at- 
 tempted to describe.' ' 
 
 "There now!" cried Julia. "I knew it! Mrs. 
 Meacham is a wise woman as well as a good one. 
 I hope this ends it." 
 
 "It's about as I expected," said Tom, grimly, 
 shaking the empty sleeve of his coat with his 
 short stump of arm there remaining. "I didn't 
 grudge the arm I lost in helping to beat those 
 rebels, and I do not regret it now." 
 
 "It is a sad picture that Agnes has painted," 
 sighed Mrs. Field; "but I am not surprised. It 
 will be long before the people of the two sections 
 become reconciled." 
 
 "I don't want any reconciliation!" exclaimed 
 Julia. "I don't want anything to do with those 
 abominable people." 
 
 "So," said Tom, "we'll drop the matter and
 
 12 THE STRANGER 
 
 keep Nell here with us or at least a little nearer 
 home." 
 
 "I do not doubt we shall do very well without 
 any Southern help," remarked Mrs. Field, in a 
 tone intended to be cheerful. 
 
 "To be sure," cried Julia, going to her sister 
 and kneeling so as to lay her head against the 
 other's shoulder. "We'll do very well. Tom will 
 get some more cows and you and I will make 
 great quantities of butter, and sell it at a big 
 price, and then we'll get more poultry, and raise 
 dozens and hundreds of chickens, and make a lot 
 of money. And maybe they'll revive the school 
 at the cross-roads; and if they do, they'll make 
 you teacher, and you can live here at home ; and 
 good gracious, what's the matter, Nell? What 
 are you thinking of? You are so still, and look 
 so hard into the fire !" 
 
 Eleanor smoothed the mass of brown hair 
 against her shoulder and said slowly, "Perhaps I 
 shall go, after all. The prospect is not inviting; 
 but then it may be my duty to risk as much as 
 Agnes has warned me of, or even more." 
 
 "What !" shrieked Julia. "After all you've read 
 about those barbarians !" 
 
 "I shall not decide just now," said Eleanor, 
 calmly. "I must think over the matter for a day 
 or two. I have so Agnes informs me ten days 
 from the date of her letter, to make up my mind. 
 That gives me a week from to-day." 
 
 "But, dear," began her mother. 
 
 "Mamma, dear," returned Eleanor, with a sigh, 
 "I feel tired now. With your consent I'll look 
 after Tom's supper."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 There lived, about half a mile from the home 
 of the Field family, an aged spinster named 
 Rachel Norton. She dwelt in her own old, un- 
 handsome house, with no other co-tenant except 
 a very deaf, red-faced, busy "help," not many 
 years younger than herself. She was an austere 
 woman, associating very little with her neighbors, 
 taking no part nor interest in neighborhood gos- 
 sip, whether harmful or harmless, visited only the 
 sick and poor, and was rarely seen in public ex- 
 cept at church. But she had some means sup- 
 posed to be much greater than they were, be- 
 cause consisting mostly in bonds and stocks, yield- 
 ing dividends, which were forwarded to her in 
 mysterious-looking envelopes; and she had trav- 
 eled, not only to Boston and New York, but also 
 along the Great Lakes, and it was thought even 
 to New Orleans. Her age was a matter of con- 
 jecture, for she was the oldest inhabitant in the 
 immediate neighborhood. Besides, she was not 
 born there, but came, no one knew whence, when 
 she might have been thirty or forty years of age, 
 for her spare figure, parchment skin and stony 
 expression were of the kind which never appears 
 young and hardly ever looks very old like a 
 boulder or a cedar post. This appearance, to- 
 gether with her reticence and her brevity, her 
 pointedness and her precision of speech, caused 
 her to be regarded as an oracle, though few per- 
 sons ventured to seek her opinions or counsel.
 
 i 4 THE STRANGER 
 
 She had, however, been less frigid to Eleanor 
 Field than to all others, and she had been heard 
 to say that there was a girl of good sense and 
 good manners; and once she astounded everybody 
 by having Eleanor take tea with her, to discuss 
 the new steeple projected for the neighborhood 
 church. 
 
 Eleanor Field now decided to ask the advice of 
 this woman. Accordingly, on the morning after 
 she received Mrs. Meacham's letter, she walked 
 over the hard-frozen snow to the uninviting house 
 on the hill. 
 
 At her knock on the massive hall door the mis- 
 tress of the place came promptly, shot back the 
 heavy bolt, twisted the grating knob, and faced 
 the visitor. 
 
 "Come in, child," she cried, with a heartiness 
 that almost startled Eleanor. "I saw you as you 
 climbed up the slippery path and struggled 
 against the wind. Come in, and warm yourself, 
 before you tell me what's the matter; for some- 
 thing is always the matter when anybody comes 
 to see Rachel Norton." She fairly pulled her visi- 
 tor into the hall, slammed and bolted the door, 
 led the way into a room where glowed a great 
 wood fire, and almost pushed the half-frozen girl 
 into the arm-chair on the broad hearth. 
 
 "Now," said the hostess, seating herself in the 
 corner, and fixing her keen gray eyes on Elean- 
 or's face, "what is the matter?" 
 
 She was informed in as few words as Eleanor 
 found possible of the situation that confronted 
 the speaker. She told of the letter from her 
 friend in the South, and gave an outline of the
 
 THE STRANGER 15 
 
 affairs of her family their dependence on a small 
 and not very productive farm; the state of her 
 mother's health, which incapacitated her for any 
 work whatever; the inability of the one-armed 
 brother to do hard labor; the high price and 
 scarcity of hired laborers for farms, and her own 
 and her sister's unfitness for any farm employ- 
 ment beyond housekeeping. 
 
 When she had finished, the old woman forced 
 her to take a cup of tea and eat a doughnut, and 
 while she struggled through that undertaking, 
 talked of the weather, her apprehension concern- 
 ing the strength of the new church-steeple, and 
 the doctrine of the unpardonable sin as announced 
 by the pastor on the Sabbath before the last. 
 Having spoken her mind on these things, she 
 handed Eleanor a newspaper, requesting her to 
 examine an article on the condition of Hindu 
 women, and went out of the room. Fully twenty 
 minutes elapsed before she returned. Then she 
 resumed her former seat, hemmed loudly, looked 
 Eleanor in the eyes, and announced in a stern, de- 
 fiant voice, 
 
 "I'd go, if I were you." 
 
 "I am glad you so decide," said Eleanor, heart- 
 ily. "It seems to me best to do so. My family, 
 as I told you, are opposed to my going. But I 
 knew you could form a more correct opinion than 
 any of us, for you know something, personally, 
 of the Southern people, and we really know noth- 
 ing." 
 
 "You are right," said Rachel Norton, senten- 
 tiously. "I have seen them in the middle South, 
 and in the far South. I guess you can tell pretty
 
 16 THE STRANGER 
 
 well what to expect from them. The men won't 
 hurt you, of course ; and I don't think they'll even 
 cheat you, for, with all their faults (and God 
 knows they've got a lot of them!) the men there 
 are not given to cheating not as much as in some 
 more godly places." 
 
 "The isolation the ostracism," commenced 
 Eleanor, "is what chills and dismays " 
 
 "Pish!" cried the old dame. "I wouldn't care 
 a last year's filbert for that sort of thing. Don't 
 I get along very well without cronies, or even 
 company of any sort? You should do your duty, 
 and leave the rest to the Lord. Don't you be- 
 lieve He takes care of people that try to do 
 right?" 
 
 "Oh, yes! And I hope I shall always trust 
 Him." 
 
 "Well, then, put your trust in Him now. I 
 think He likes for people to undertake hard 
 things, depending on Him for protection and suc- 
 cess." And then she rose and looked out of the 
 window, indicating that the subject was disposed 
 of. 
 
 Eleanor thanked her and resumed her wraps. 
 The old woman showed her to the outer door, 
 and there, to the young woman's amazement, put 
 her hands on her shoulders, touched her brow 
 with her thin, hard lips, and said, "God bless and 
 keep you always, child!" Before Eleanor could 
 speak or collect her startled senses, the door was 
 banged and bolted.
 
 THE STRANGER 17 
 
 It is not to be supposed that Rachel NortonV 
 advice decided the matter. It did not determine 
 Eleanor Field's mind, nor satisfy her family, but 
 it contributed to confirm her in a very strong in- 
 clination to go South, and it consoled her people 
 no little, for all the Fields had much respect for 
 the judgment of the old woman who had held her 
 own so long and so successfully; they thought 
 that she had more knowledge of the South than 
 any one else in their section of the country; and 
 they knew that she had no romantic predilection 
 for the people of the late Confederate States of 
 America. Moreover, they felt assured that she 
 was Eleanor's friend. So, after a long talk that 
 same evening a talk in which the mother pro- 
 tested and lamented, the brother argued and 
 grumbled, the sister fretted and pouted, and all 
 of them shed tears it was conceded that Eleanor 
 should go South to try her fortune, and start in 
 forty-eight hours. 
 
 The preparation hours were full of work and 
 pain to all of them. With the exception of Tom, 
 none of them had been farther from home than 
 Boston. He had served in the Army of the Po- 
 tomac, and so had seen something of Pennsylva- 
 nia, Maryland, and Virginia during three years, 
 but only the little that the confinement of a sol- 
 dier's life permits. He had seen nothing of Vir- 
 ginians or other Southerners except the hard 
 fighting of their troops and, for a brief space now 
 and then, prisoners taken in battle. The vast 
 territory called "the South" was to them, there- 
 fore, a terra incognita, of most indefinite features
 
 i8 THE STRANGER 
 
 in itself, and peopled by a race of white men they 
 had been taught to think their mortal enemies, 
 whatever else they might be, and by a race of 
 black men who, in spite of the romantic glamour 
 that shone around them, they believed to be little 
 more or less than unhappy, ill-used and harmless 
 barbarians. She seemed to be going to a rough, 
 wild land, to find the dominant race unfriendly 
 to her and hers, and the suppressed or inferior 
 race powerless to help her if it would, and utterly 
 unfit for companionship. To her and her people's 
 untraveled eyes it was a fearfully long journey 
 she was to take nearly a thousand miles by the 
 route travelers must pursue ; and on arrival what 
 certainty was there that she would be able to earn 
 her bread? She must pass an examination by a 
 school board, and she must also satisfy them that 
 she could impart knowledge to others, and that 
 she would conduct herself according to their no- 
 tions of propriety and the requirements of the 
 situation. 
 
 Her mind was filled by day with gloomiest fore- 
 bodings ; her sleep was beset with fearful dreams. 
 Perhaps her own resolution would never have 
 borne her through these trials; certainly, she 
 had to keep herself constantly reminded of the 
 necessity of the undertaking; but with all the 
 steeling afforded by this conviction, and all her 
 hourly, agonized prayers for divine help, she more 
 than once lost all heart and purpose. 
 
 On the last evening before her going she was 
 on the verge of abandoning the enterprise. The 
 sun was setting behind strata of gold and pink 
 and purple clouds, here casting a silver sheen on
 
 THE STRANGER 19 
 
 fields of snow, there framing brilliant blue or 
 fleecy drapery around somber forests of pine. 
 The breeze blew fresh and bracing. Cattle lowed 
 and sheep bleated in the distance. Clear-voiced 
 cocks crowed and the pigeons cooed from the 
 dovecote. Beyond the wide expanse of meadows 
 the river her loved Connecticut murmured 
 melancholy music on its way to the sea. Far off 
 she heard children singing "America," the hymn 
 so familiar in every New England home, so dear 
 to every New England heart. And she must say 
 farewell to all this and to all it expressed to her 
 to all the life which she and five or six genera- 
 tions of her people had lived and loved ; she must 
 go a thousand miles away, among strangers, may- 
 be among enemies, to a land where men were 
 fierce, and nature was wild, where there was no 
 likelihood of sympathy or friendliness, where 
 there was no certainty of even bread to eat! 
 
 While lost in these mournful reflections she felt 
 her sister's arm about her, and her face laid 
 against her own. After a moment of convulsive 
 embrace the child cried out : 
 
 "Oh, dear, dear Nell, why must you go away, 
 and break all our hearts? Can't you stay? What 
 shall we do without you? What can you do in 
 that fearful South? Stay, Nell, dear Nell." 
 
 "I must go," returned Eleanor, "and and you 
 break my heart, already full of woe!" 
 
 They spoke no more, but stood in a close em- 
 brace, weeping bitterly. 
 
 And after a while Tom came, with bowed head, 
 and laid his great right arm on their shoulders. 
 
 "Can't you revoke your decision now?" asked
 
 20 THE STRANGER 
 
 he, half choked with emotion. "It is not too late, 
 and I feel that you are going to your grave. 
 Think of the loneliness, the pain, perhaps the per- 
 secution you will suffer in that land of our ene- 
 mies." 
 
 "Are all the people our enemies?" inquired 
 Eleanor. "I feel sure they are not. Surely they 
 are not so different from us as to be cruel, or even 
 altogether unfair, to any one, especially to a 
 woman coming among them to earn a living by 
 upright methods." 
 
 "Well," said Tom, recovering his customary 
 manner, "I won't say that all of them are bad 
 people. Their soldiers fought well magnifi- 
 cently; they endured privations heroically; they 
 were generous; and I think they believed they 
 were right." 
 
 "If they were loyal to what they thought a 
 righteous cause," suggested his sister, "and were 
 magnanimous in war, I should think they would 
 be at least just in time of peace." 
 
 "In some circumstances and under certain con- 
 ditions," said Tom. "But during these six years 
 of peace they have become more embittered 
 against us than ever before. I suspect that the 
 measures used in their 'reconstruction,' as the pol- 
 iticians call it, have been pretty harsh in some 
 respects, and sometimes unreasonable. But 
 whether properly or not, they feel wronged, and 
 they blame all the people of the North for every- 
 thing they suffer. Perhaps we should do the 
 same, if we were in their position. That's not, 
 however, the point for you to consider. There is 
 that feeling against all of us (except, of course,
 
 THE STRANGER 21 
 
 those who prove themselves to have been cop- 
 perheads') and you are going to suffer just as if 
 you had killed their soldiers, set free their slaves, 
 denied their right to self-government, and opened 
 the ballot-box to the negroes." 
 
 "Nevertheless," said Eleanor, her voice now 
 steady, and her manner resolute "Nevertheless, 
 I will make the venture. I feel that, doing my 
 duty faithfully, keeping clear of all political dis- 
 cussion, all race controversies and all social ques- 
 tions, and trusting the God of our fathers for 
 strength, I shall succeed." 
 
 "If you should fail?" asked Tom. 
 
 Eleanor's face brightened into a smile. "You 
 used almost Macbeth's very words. Now, Tom 
 dear, there are two renderings of his lady's an- 
 swer, to wit, 'We fail!' in indignant protest 
 against the mere suggestion of failure; and the 
 other, 'We fail' an expression of resolution to 
 meet such a frustration of their plan. Now, while 
 loth to imitate that wicked woman, I answer you 
 in the latter manner. But I am reminded of a bet- 
 ter case that of Esther when she was preparing 
 to go before King Ahasuerus, 'If I perish, I per- 
 ish!' My errand is not so grand, by a great deal, 
 as Queen Esther's; but it is fully as meritorious, 
 and I answer you in her words." 
 
 That ended the discussion. At sunrise the next 
 morning she was on her way to New York, 
 whence, on the following day, she sailed for the 
 Southern seaport nearest her destination.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 It is as true now as it was in Horace's time 
 that they who travel across seas change the sky 
 but not their minds ; it is also true that care, more 
 or less black, rides behind every horseman. But 
 if we journey far enough and fast enough, our 
 minds derive some occupation and relief from the 
 scenes we meet; and we become, in some meas- 
 ure, oblivious of the disagreeable companion at 
 our back. Such was Eleanor Field's experience 
 in her journey, and she found the physical dis- 
 comfort of sea-sickness no small help in banishing 
 troubles of the brain. 
 
 At her landing in port she was met by her 
 friend, Mrs. Agnes Meacham, who, now that she 
 had come, was determined to make it as agreeable 
 as possible for the stranger. Together they spent 
 two days in the city, viewing what had been left 
 by "time, war, flood, and fire," the marks of one 
 or more of which destroying agencies were al- 
 most everywhere visible. Together they sped, 
 by railway, through primeval forests of cypress, 
 live-oak, magnolia and pine, through silent 
 swamps where alligator and turtle aired them- 
 selves in full freedom and security, along and 
 across deep, dark, noiseless, smooth-flowing riv- 
 ers, on whose banks grew rank grasses and ap- 
 parently impenetrable tangles of vines, and above 
 them hung and waved from every limb of tree the 
 long gray moss, in grace and silence. The ap- 
 pearance was far more grave and grand than she
 
 THE STRANGER 23 
 
 had ever dreamed, and when to that was added 
 the balmy, odorous atmosphere, so still, so sooth- 
 ing, so solemn, she could hardly resist the persua- 
 sion that she was on enchanted ground. 
 
 "How rich and sweet and composing this scen- 
 ery is!" she cried. 
 
 "It is not hard to realize that the inhabitants 
 are greatly attached to such a land," returned her 
 companion. 
 
 "No," said Eleanor. "I can understand fully 
 the lines of the Southern woman, which I have 
 repeated to myself twenty times this morning: 
 
 " 'I sigh for the land of the cypress and pine, 
 Where the jessamine blooms, and the gay woodbine, 
 Where the moss droops low from the old oak tree: 
 Oh, that sunbright land is the land for me.' " 
 
 Then, after a pause, "But the region we are 
 going to is not of this kind?" 
 
 "No, indeed," answered her friend, laughing. 
 "It is very different a region of hills, many of 
 them very bare and gully-worn, of little original 
 forest, and with little more foliage, at this season, 
 than you left in New England. 
 
 And before long they were in a totally different 
 scene, where the streams poured over shoals, 
 where the hills were high and the hollows corre- 
 spondingly deep, where there were long irregular 
 lines of gullies washed into the red clay, where the 
 fields showed only brown sedge grass or dead stalks 
 of corn and cotton, with only small bodies of original 
 forest timber, and where the farm settlements con- 
 sisted mostly of small unpainted wooden barns, 
 cabins, principally built of logs, and tottering
 
 24 THE STRANGER 
 
 sheds or stables. Occasionally a large wooden 
 residence, painted white, with an excess of chim- 
 neys, and with green window-shutters relieved 
 the dullness and inferiority of other buildings. 
 These she rightly conjectured to be, or to have 
 been, the dwellings of the wealthier planters; at 
 the same time, the contrast and disproportion be- 
 tween these homes and the rough, poor struc- 
 tures elsewhere sadly suggested poverty and stag- 
 nation. 
 
 Agnes Meacham observed the effect of these 
 painful thoughts on the stranger, and endeavored 
 to cheer her by describing the fine climate, the 
 productiveness of the soil, the ease of living, the 
 peaceable bearing of the people (except under 
 political excitement), and whatever else appeared 
 to her to be favorable or charming; but Eleanor 
 Field arrived at Upton in profound melancholy, 
 every romantic fancy utterly extinguished. 
 
 The newcomer, on the suggestion of Mrs. 
 Meacham that it would do her no good to be seen 
 as the friend and associate of the garrison com- 
 mander's wife, did not stop at Upton, as both she 
 and Mrs. Meacham wished she might do, but pro- 
 ceeded alone to Cherenden Station, twelve miles 
 from Upton. Before leaving her, however, Mrs. 
 Meacham handed her friend two sealed letters 
 from her husband, one of them addressed to "Col. 
 Reginald Q. Tomlinson, Chairman of Board of 
 Trustees, Cherenden Academy," the other to "Mr. 
 Asa T. Cogburn." The latter gentleman, Mrs.
 
 THE STRANGER 25 
 
 Meacham informed her, was a merchant well 
 known to her husband, with whom he had had some 
 business dealings, who was requested, by this let- 
 ter, to give Eleanor any assistance she might need 
 in procuring board or other accommodation. 
 
 On her arrival at the station Eleanor found a 
 two-seat hack, with considerable space in the rear 
 of the seats, which the driver told her was em- 
 ployed in conveying travelers between the station 
 and the village. She took passage at once, and 
 her baggage, consisting of a large trunk and bag, 
 was tumbled into the hack by the coal-black 
 driver, with a violence that threatened to break 
 through the floor of the rather frail vehicle. Then 
 off went the hack at a jerk and jump, the driver 
 bawling "Git along!" at the top of his voice, and 
 applying his heavy whip energetically to the pair 
 of lank, ill-groomed horses. 
 
 For a time they moved on in silence, the driver 
 on the front seat and his passenger on the rear 
 one. But he was never silent toward his team, 
 but called to them incessantly, "Git up!" and 
 "G'long dar !" and "Look what yer 'bout !" occa- 
 sionally calling them "rascals," "varmints," and 
 the like. 
 
 After a time, the driver looked back toward 
 her, and inquired, "Is you all right, ma'am?" 
 
 She answered that she felt very well, but found 
 the road somewhat rough. 
 
 "Why," cried he, "we calls dis a mighty fine 
 road. G'long dar!" 
 
 Just then they plunged into a depression which 
 caused a considerable jolt and the man volun-
 
 26 THE STRANGER 
 
 teered the admission that there were some "on- 
 even" places in the road. 
 
 They passed a farm where Eleanor saw a barn- 
 like building, most of the under portion of which 
 was open, and in that space saw two mules walk- 
 ing around a central post, driven by a small ne- 
 gro. She inquired what that was. 
 
 "Oh !" replied the driver, "dat's a gin." 
 
 "What is a gin?" 
 
 "Cotton gin. Ain't you nuvver seed a cotton 
 gin?" 
 
 "No," she answered. "And what is that thing 
 out there, with the two long timbers meeting at 
 the top and reaching down, on opposite sides, near- 
 ly to the ground?" 
 
 "Ya, ya!" laughed the driver. "Dat's a screw 
 cotton screw whar dey packs de cotton bales. 
 Ain't you nuvver seed a screw?" 
 
 On her answering in the negative the negro 
 looked confused, and drove on in silence for some 
 time, forgetting even to chide his team. Finally, 
 he looked back at her and said, very seriously : 
 
 "I 'spec' you must be dat lady frum de Norf 
 what we bin a-lookin' fur." 
 
 "I am from the North," replied Eleanor. 
 
 "Bless God!" cried the man. "I jis' wukked it 
 out dat way, soon's I seen you at de depot, but I 
 ain't know fur sartin ontwell I heerd you axin' 
 'bout gins an' screws. I'm mighty glad to see 
 you, ma'am. Us cullud folks knows as how de 
 folks in de Norf is our friends." 
 
 "How did you come to look for me?" 
 
 "Well, ma'am, Mr. Anderson him what keeps 
 de hotel he says to me, day befo' yistiddy, 'Ned,'
 
 THE STRANGER 27 
 
 says he, 'dar's a young lady a-comin' hyar fum de 
 Norf, to teach school ; an' I reckon she'll come to 
 de hotel. So now,' say he, 'you be kyarful to 
 bring her safe,' says he. And I says, says I, 'Mr. 
 Anderson, I'm bound to do dat thing.' An' please 
 God, hyar we is, an' mos' in sight of de village." 
 
 After a pause, apparently awaiting some res- 
 ponse, he resumed: "When you gits to de hotel 
 you'll find 'em mighty fine people Mr. Anderson 
 an' Miss Anderson, which she is his wife. An' 
 you'll see a cullud woman dar, which her name is 
 Clarissy. She's my wife. She'll take mighty 
 good kyar on you. She's use' to waitin' on young 
 ladies, an' she's got a good name wid all de folks 
 what comes dis way. You jist tell her as how 
 Ned druv you over in de hack. An' you tell her as 
 how to do her bes' by you ; an' I lay she do every- 
 thin' to yo' satisfaction. Now you ain't gwine to 
 forget 'bout Clarissy an' Ned?" 
 
 She promised to bear in mind all he had said; 
 whereupon he "blessed God" and flogged his 
 horses vigorously. But after a few minutes he 
 inquired about the weather "they had in de Norf." 
 On her replying that she left the earth covered 
 with snow to the depth of a foot or more, he was 
 astounded. 
 
 "Why, I ain't nuvver seed sich a snow in all my 
 life!" he exclaimed. "I seen one snow 'bout fo' 
 inch' deep, five or six year ago, but dat de bigges' 
 snow I uvver knowed on. We ain't had no snow 
 at all dis winter, an' we ain't had 'nough to good 
 whiten de groun' las' winter. Bless God ! Snow 
 foot deep !" 
 
 Amused, and encouraged to impart more sur-
 
 28 THE STRANGER 
 
 prising intelligence, she said, "I have seen it twice 
 that deep." 
 
 "Two foot o' snow on de groun' ! Lawd a' 
 mussy!" And then he shook his head and beat 
 his horses soundly. 
 
 Eleanor saw that he doubted the correctness of 
 her statement; and recollecting the incredulity of 
 the Sultan of Bantam cencerning ice, she said no 
 more. 
 
 Presently they entered the village, and drove 
 through a rough, muddy street, with little sign 
 of life along it, to a dingy, two-story wooden 
 building which proved to be the hotel. A fat, red- 
 faced man, who sat alone in the long piazza, on a 
 chair tilted against the wall, rose when the vehicle 
 stopped before the door, and came out to wel- 
 come her. His manners were more pleasing than 
 his appearance, or the appearance of his house. 
 
 "Good evening, ma'am," said he, lifting his 
 broad-brimmed felt hat. "I hope you had a com- 
 fortable ride. Let me help you. There give me 
 both your hands, and make a jump. That's the 
 quickest and easiest way to get out of this high 
 old hack of mine. Have to have it high to keep 
 above the mud we have in winter." 
 
 Accepting his assistance she descended more 
 comfortably than she had expected, for his strong 
 hands lowered her gently to the ground. 
 
 "You are by yourself?" said he, with a rather 
 suspicious look. 
 
 "Yes; I have traveled from Upton alone." 
 
 "Oh then," said he, cheerfully, "I reckon you 
 may be the Northern lady Colonel Tomlinson 
 told us about. He said there was a young lady
 
 THE STRANGER 29 
 
 coming here soon, maybe to take charge of the 
 school. Glad to see you. Hope we'll be able to 
 make you comfortable." 
 
 "Thank you," returned Eleanor. "I presume 
 I am the person he mentioned. I come from the 
 North, and I am seeking "a school." 
 
 "All right, ma'am. The Colonel charged me to 
 show you every attention. He is a big man in 
 these parts a fine man ; and I always take pleas- 
 ure in looking after the people he recommends. 
 But here comes my wife. Nancy, here is Miss 
 Field, the lady the Colonel told us about." 
 
 Mrs. Anderson, as fat, though not quite as rosy 
 as her husband, hurried down the steps, took 
 Eleanor by the hand, led her into the hotel, and 
 did all the talking declaring that she felt so 
 much for a young lady who had to travel so far 
 alone, wondering how she could have come so 
 soon and apparently so safely, and promising to 
 make her stay with them as pleasant as their poor 
 accommodations would allow. All these things 
 were spoken in a tone and with a look that indi- 
 cated real hospitality; and Eleanor followed the 
 landlady to her room, feeling more cheerful than 
 she had for hours. 
 
 She was shown to a chamber on the second 
 floor at the corner of the building and of two 
 streets, and large and tidy, though very plainly 
 furnished. The landlady began to call "Clarissy" 
 from the time she entered the house, and contin- 
 ued to do so at short intervals during her prog- 
 ress, pausing in her talk, when in the room, to 
 step to the open door and repeat the summons. 
 
 "This ain't a fine room," said she, bustling
 
 30 THE STRANGER 
 
 \ 
 
 around, shaking the pillows, smoothing the bed- 
 cover, changing the location of chairs, inspecting 
 the crockery and towels at the wash-stand, and 
 going over almost everything. "This ain't a fine 
 room, and we don't have fine fare, and we ain't 
 fine people. Clarissy \ But what we have is at 
 your service, and welcome. C/arissy! So if any- 
 thing don't suit you, or you want anything we 
 haven't got, you just let us know either me or 
 Mr. Anderson, but better me, for men are Clar- 
 issy! I wonder why that nigger don't come 
 though she's hard o' hearin'. Men are mighty 
 forgetful, and very often don't understand C/ar- 
 issy ! Good gracious alive ! That nigger ain't too 
 fat to get here by this time. Cla ! Oh, here 
 you are at last." 
 
 A brown woman, fatter than landlord or land- 
 lady, waddled into the room, and explained with 
 energy how she had been "fixin' Isham's new 
 jacket on him, and then had to hook up Fannie 
 Jane's frock, and they wouldn't let her go," and 
 so forth. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Anderson, "start a fire for 
 Miss Field, and then bring fresh water, so she 
 can get ready for supper. I'll send Clarissy to 
 fetch you to supper in half an hour. And so good- 
 by not forgettin' that you must tell us whenever 
 you want anything." Then she hurried away. 
 
 During all this time the stranger had not been 
 allowed to utter a word, except in thanks for the 
 lady's wish to care for her. Nor had she much 
 opportunity with Clarissy, who at once proceeded 
 to say: 
 
 "Ned, what druv you fum de railroad which
 
 THE STRANGER 31 
 
 he is my husband his full entitles bein' Edward 
 Hammon' he bin tellin' me 'bout you, Miss, as 
 bein' a mighty han'some lady, what talks kind, 
 an' don't know much 'bout things in dese parts. 
 Ned, he says I'm gwine to fin' you a good lady, 
 an' I mus' take good keer on you which I'm 
 boun' to do, please God ! So I'll make de fire." 
 
 Forthwith she piled quite a heap of wood on 
 the huge iron andirons, thrust several pieces of 
 lightwood under it, struck a match and applied it, 
 and soon had great flames roaring up the chim- 
 ney. 
 
 "An' please God, we'll try to make you nice an' 
 comf'table, Miss which you musn't be skeered 
 to say when you wants anythin'. An' there's my 
 daughter Easter, which she is ten years old, goin' 
 on 'leven, an' she's a peert gal, what goes to 
 school, an' kin read an' write fine which me an' 
 Ned ain't got no eddication, bein' as how both on 
 us wuz slaves, when niggers didn't have no use 
 fur book-larnin'. But Easter is a smart gal, an' 
 she'll do anythin' fur you. An' I'll git some fresh 
 water." 
 
 The water brought, Clarissy resumed her dis- 
 course, but Mrs. Anderson's shrill cry for "Clar- 
 issy" soon rang through the house, and carried 
 away the voluble speaker. 
 
 Before long Clarissy returned to escort Eleanor 
 to supper. In the dining-room she found the 
 landlady seated at the end of the one table, some 
 thirty feet in length, from which it seemed all 
 guests were to eat. A shy-looking girl, of prob- 
 ably twelve years, clad in a red-figured calico, sat 
 on Mrs. Anderson's left, the opposite place being
 
 32 THE STRANGER 
 
 assigned to Eleanor. Next to the girl sat a boy, 
 who stared from under a very bushy, unkempt 
 head of sandy-colored hair. Next him was a 
 smaller boy, who devoted most of his time to 
 watching Eleanor. Beyond this group, at an in- 
 terval of four or five feet, were ranged three or 
 four middle-aged men, and six or seven young 
 men. All honored the newcomer with a pro- 
 longed stare, and she saw from the corner of her 
 eye that one of them a very yellow-faced, long- 
 haired youth required a long time to get at his 
 supper, and afterward paused frequently to ob- 
 serve her. They were all very 'quiet, however, 
 and spoke in rather low voices ; each one looked 
 away whenever he encountered Eleanor's glance. 
 
 After a while that end of the table was enliv- 
 ened by the entrance of a tall, gaunt man, clad in 
 dark gray, wearing long, curling locks of raven- 
 black hair, with trousers inside the legs of his cav- 
 alry boots, and jangling his spurs noisily as he 
 walked. 
 
 "How are you, Colonel?" cried the middle- 
 aged man at one corner of the table. 
 
 "Fine, fine," answered the newcomer in a loud 
 voice. 
 
 "Colonel Jenkins, Mr. Brown," said the first 
 speaker to one next him. "Mr. Brown, Colonel 
 Jenkins." 
 
 "Oh," responded Mr. Brown, "I know Colonel 
 Jenkins. Everybody knows him." 
 
 "To be sure," said the man with the hair and 
 the spurs. "How are you all?" 
 
 All of them acknowledged the salutation in one 
 way or another, while the Colonel took the end
 
 THE STRANGER 33 
 
 seat, facing Mrs. Anderson, to whom he bowed 
 and waved one hand, and who returned him a 
 smile and a nod. 
 
 "That's Colonel Samuel Jenkins," said she to 
 Eleanor. "Great cavalry officer in the war. Lives 
 a mile or so out of town. Family used to be rich ; 
 but they haven't much besides land now. He and 
 four unmarried sisters live together. I should 
 like for you to know him. I think you'd like him. 
 Talks pretty loud, but a fine man." 
 
 He soon began to entertain his hearers with 
 some of his war experiences, in which "my com- 
 mand," "my regiment," "my men," and, above all, 
 "I," were exceedingly conspicuous. Finally, rais- 
 ing his voice to a louder tone than ever, he pro- 
 claimed : "There we were, three of us my adju- 
 tant, an orderly and me cut off from the rest, 
 and about forty Yankees charging us like devils, 
 firing pistols, brandishing sabers, and riding like 
 a whirlwind." 
 
 "Good gracious, Colonel!" cried the young 
 man with long hair and sallow complexion. "How 
 could you get away from such a crowd?" 
 
 "Colonel Jenkins never wanted to get away," 
 indignantly exclaimed the man who had first wel- 
 comed the cavalry officer. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Badkins!" remonstrated the Colonel 
 in a patronizing voice, "you must excuse the 
 young man ; he don't know anything about war." 
 
 "He don't know anything about you," replied 
 Mr. Badkins. 
 
 "But I'll tell you, Mr. Ashmore," proceeded 
 the officer. "We didn't want to get away; 
 3
 
 34 THE STRANGER 
 
 we didn't get away. Some of them Yankees got 
 away, and some of them didn't." 
 
 "Ah !" sighed the young man, and set down his 
 cup of coffee without drinking. 
 
 "How many did you get, Colonel?" inquired 
 Mr. Badkins, after a respectful pause. 
 
 "Well," replied the Colonel, lightly, as if kill- 
 ing men was no great thing, "we were too busy 
 to keep count accurately. When they went off, 
 they left five on the ground, and some that went 
 off were undoubtedly hurt." 
 
 "How many did you get?" asked Mr. Ashmore, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I can't say positively," answered the cavalier, 
 in a modest voice, "whether it was three or four. 
 I preferred to divide as equally as I could with my 
 two men, giving each of them one, though my 
 orderly always said that he thought he only hit a 
 horse or two, and that the adjutant got one. Any- 
 how, it was a good fight for three men to make." 
 
 "I should say so !" exclaimed Mr. Brown. 
 "Forty Yankees to three Confederates !" 
 
 "I said about forty," suggested the Colonel. 
 "Of course, you couldn't count forty while the 
 crowd charged us." 
 
 "Certainly not," cried Mr. Badkins. "And what 
 was the end of it?" 
 
 "Well, sir," responded the Colonel, but it 
 seemed with some reluctance, "the regiment, see- 
 ing our fight, rallied, and came up at the close 
 and chased the crowd to their main body." 
 
 "But you fought without them," suggested Mr. 
 Brown.
 
 THE STRANGER 35 
 
 "To be sure," answered the Colonel, taking a 
 great swig of coffee. "To be sure !" 
 
 "To be sure!" "To be sure!" echoed the 
 others; and then they watched him with admir- 
 ing eyes while he fed ravenously and in silence, 
 with the air of one who has lost time. 
 
 Mrs. Anderson endeavored to distract Elean- 
 or's attention from the narrator before he be- 
 gan his bloody narrative, for she appeared to be 
 troubled as soon as he entered the room, no doubt 
 because she was acquainted with his range of sub- 
 jects and manner of speech; but the loud voice 
 of the sanguinary cavalier prevailed, and the 
 Northern woman heard every word he uttered. 
 In a minute after he closed, Eleanor, having lost 
 all appetite, excused herself, and went to her 
 room. The landlady, to show her appreciation 
 of her guest's feelings, and careful to allay ap- 
 prehension of their being similarly offended in 
 the future, took occasion to say to her, in a low 
 voice, as she retired, "He does not lodge or board 
 here, and seldom comes for a meal."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The next morning, shortly after Eleanor had 
 breakfasted, Colonel Tomlinson, chairman of the 
 board of academy trustees, called upon Eleanor 
 Field. He was a tall, portly gentleman ("sixteen 
 stone and a half, sir," he liked to inform inquir- 
 ers), and had quite a fine countenance, which, 
 though giving little indication of intellect, was 
 genial and dignified. His hair was long and snow- 
 white, his face, round, ruddy and clean-shaven. 
 He wore a suit of black broadcloth; his broad, 
 rolling shirt-collar was spotless, as were his cuffs 
 and shirt-front; he wore brown kid gloves; and 
 carried in his hands a shining silk hat and a gold- 
 headed walking-cane. When Eleanor entered he 
 rose, bowed profoundly, and handed her the best 
 chair in the parlor. 
 
 "You are Miss Field, I presume," said he, in a 
 full, round, mellow, measured voice. 
 
 "I am glad to meet you, Colonel Tomlinson." 
 
 "Thank you," he returned, and seated himself 
 with deliberation and care. 
 
 "I did not receive Captain Meacham's letter till 
 this morning," he went on. "It appears that Mr. 
 Anderson started it to me soon after dark by a 
 negro man living on my place. But that individ- 
 ual fancied that this morning would do, and so I 
 had to answer in person, as soon as I could 
 come." 
 
 "I hope you were not hurried," said Eleanor.
 
 THE STRANGER 37 
 
 "Oh, no; but I ought, if I had time, to have 
 written you, and advised you of my coming." 
 
 His courtly manner and considerateness prom- 
 ised well, and the stranger felt drawn toward the 
 dignified old gentleman, his very self-importance 
 having a certain kindliness in it." 
 
 "If it suits you," continued he, "we shall be 
 glad to meet you at the academy to-morrow 
 morning at ten o'clock. The other two members 
 of the board of trustees, Mr. Huntley and Mr. 
 Cogburn, as well as I, will be there at that time, 
 unless you suggest some other hour." 
 
 She assented cheerfully, and then, after some 
 inquiry concerning her journey, and an' expres- 
 sion of pleasure on the state of her health, the old 
 gentleman bowed himself out of the room. 
 
 The rest of the day, except an hour spent in 
 exploring the quiet village, was devoted to letters 
 to her mother, Rachel Norton and two other 
 friends, and to reviewing in her mind such matters 
 as she might be examined in the following day. 
 
 About nine o'clock, the following morning, 
 Eleanor started afoot to seek the academy. Mrs. 
 Anderson gave her directions which guided her 
 part of the way ; but the streets were so irregular, 
 and the size of the squares so varying and the di- 
 rections she received from the two or three negro 
 boys she met so vague, that after half an hour of 
 walking she discovered that she was on the bor- 
 der of the village, with no academy in sight. 
 While she paused, undecided, a man on horse- 
 back came along the street, meeting her, and, ob- 
 serving her plight, raised his slouch hat, as if to
 
 38 THE STRANGER 
 
 invite her inquiry. She told him at once that she 
 was seeking the academy. For a moment he 
 scrutinized her face, and then said that she would 
 have to turn back and take a cross-street, indi- 
 cating by word and a movement of his hand the 
 end of that street which she should follow. Then, 
 after starting, he drew rein again, and said, "If 
 you do not object, I will accompany you part of 
 the way, so as to make sure. These streets are 
 confusing." 
 
 Then he dismounted, laid the bridle-reins over 
 the pommel of his saddle, and showed that he in- 
 tended to walk with her. She protested that he 
 should not have that inconvenience, but he an- 
 swered that a walk would rest him, since he had 
 ridden about ten miles. So they walked together, 
 the horse walking abreast of them in the road- 
 way, as if accustomed to do so. She saw that the 
 animal was a beautiful mare, perfectly black, with 
 a skin of silken smoothness arid brightness, and 
 with the symmetrical neck, lean head, small ears, 
 large nostrils, bright eyes, hard and muscular 
 slender limbs, strong shoulders, strong loin, and 
 the long swinging stride of the thoroughbred. 
 The rider was of the appearance to be expected 
 in the master of such a horse tall, erect, slender, 
 but evidently active and athletic, plainly but finely 
 dressed in a dark gray suit, and wearing on his 
 handsome face an expression of mingled sternness 
 and melancholy which at once attracted and rebuked 
 curiosity. When he stepped to the other side of 
 the mare to adjust the saddle-girth, just after they 
 started, the animal stretched her muzzle toward 
 Eleanor as if seeking acquaintance. She was
 
 THE STRANGER 39 
 
 fond of horses, and having been accustomed to 
 handle them, she took the animal's head with 
 both her hands and spoke some kindly words. 
 The gentleman, coming round and observing the 
 friendly intercourse between them, said : 
 
 "Delta seems to take to you not at all a com- 
 mon occurrence with her." 
 
 "Oh," returned Eleanor, somewhat confused, 
 "I laid hands on her without thinking. I am very 
 fond of horses, and they are generally fond of 
 me." 
 
 "This one is rarely friendly," pursued the gen- 
 tleman, "and is considered vicious by most persons 
 who know her." 
 
 "She is the most beautiful animal I ever saw, 
 and the most graceful !" cried Eleanor. "And she 
 deserves the pretty and singular name you give 
 her. Delta? I never heard it before, except as 
 applied to land at the mouths of a river." 
 
 "Or as the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet," 
 he suggested, half smiling. "And thence was it 
 derived. My father, just beginning the study of 
 Greek, became the owner of this mare's great- 
 granddam. Thinking that she should become the 
 progenitress of a line of fine horses, he named her 
 Alpha. Then followed Beta, Gamma, and Delta. 
 It was a fortunate accident for accident he him- 
 self told me it was ; for if you run over that alpha- 
 bet, you will see the letters well suited for names 
 of females. Epsilon will hardly do ; but then we 
 have Zeta, Eta, Theta, Iota, Kappa and so on, 
 down to and including Omega, with the only ex- 
 ception of Omicron and Upsilon." 
 
 That sounded very pretty and sensible to
 
 40 THE STRANGER 
 
 Eleanor, and she said so. Her companion an- 
 swered : 
 
 "Yes; but like a large proportion of good 
 things, as well as evil ones, it was pure accident." 
 
 They soon reached a cross-street, which he di- 
 rected her to take, adding such further descrip- 
 tion as would enable her to find the way to the 
 academy. Then he bade her good day, and gal- 
 loped away. 
 
 At the academy she found Colonel Tomlinson 
 and Mr. Cogburn, who told her that the third 
 trustee was sure to be there at the hour appointed 
 and the interval was passed pleasantly enough in 
 the conversation concerning the weather, the cli- 
 mate, and her own journey from home. Just be- 
 fore her watch indicated the hour, she heard the 
 hoofs of a horse, and presently, to Eleanor Field's 
 astonishment, the rider of Delta entered the room. 
 He spoke to the two gentlemen, and bowed, hat 
 in hand, to the stranger. On Colonel Tomlin- 
 son's starting to introduce him to her, he smiled 
 gravely, and said, "I am glad to meet Miss Field; 
 but she and I have already met," and he told in 
 a few words, how it chanced. 
 
 The examination proceeded. Colonel Tomlin- 
 son opened it, taking for his department history, 
 particularly that of England and America, in 
 which he showed himself fairly well informed. Po- 
 litical questions he disposed of in a very pleasant, 
 considerate manner. Finally, he assumed a posi- 
 tive manner, and inquired concerning the history 
 of the American tariff. On general facts she an- 
 swered without hesitation, and he seemed pleased, 
 though, on account of his deafness, she some-
 
 THE STRANGER 41 
 
 times had to repeat an answer. At last he called 
 out: 
 
 "What are the proper and only proper uses or 
 reasons for a tariff?" 
 
 "To raise the revenue necessary for the proper 
 expenses of government, and, to use the current 
 phrase, to develop important infant industries." 
 
 Colonel Tomlinson commented to Mr. Hunt- 
 ley on this reply in what he intended for his ear 
 alone, but in a voice audible to the applicant as 
 well as the other two trustees, "A d d smart 
 woman, William." 
 
 Mr. Huntley pulled his closely trimmed brown 
 mustache, and fixed his dark, blue-gray eyes on 
 the opposite wall. Mr. Cogburn winked his little 
 blue eyes, sniffed the air, and scratched his thick 
 roan beard. 
 
 "Ahem!" resumed the Colonel. "Was that 
 sort of tariff ever opposed in the South?" 
 
 "No," answered Eleanor; "on the contrary it 
 had, at the outset, the support of Mr. Calhoun 
 and almost all, if not all, of his colleagues in Con- 
 gress." 
 
 "A devilish smart woman !" whispered the Col- 
 onel, in the same voice as before. And then he 
 bowed, smiling upon her, and turned her over to 
 Mr. Cogburn for examination in mathematics. 
 
 Here she was pretty well tested on arithmetic; 
 and then the examiner took from his pocket a 
 sheet of paper and read a problem in algebra. 
 
 "Hello, Cogburn," cried the Colonel, in aston- 
 ishment, "I didn't know that algebra was among 
 your accomplishments." 
 
 "And it ain't," returned the other grumly. "I
 
 42 THE STRANGER 
 
 got Parson Johnson to prepare some sums and 
 work 'em out for me. And that's what I'm on 
 now." 
 
 She went to the blackboard, and soon figured 
 the demonstration. After comparing her work 
 with his copy, the examiner nodded his head in 
 approval. And so with several questions. Then 
 he produced another paper, and read out a prop- 
 osition in geometry. When she started to the 
 blackboard, Mr. Huntley rose and said : 
 
 "That board is not clean ; and the chalk is very 
 bad. Let me draw the figure for you," and rap- 
 idly did so. 
 
 "Hello!" cried Mr. Cogburn, "you ain't got the 
 letters right. You've got A where you ought to 
 have B, and E where you ought to have F." 
 
 "Very well," said Mr. Huntley; "we'll change 
 letters to suit you." 
 
 But Mr. Cogburn had much difficulty in follow- 
 ing Eleanor's demonstration, and only acquiesced 
 in it when he saw that Mr. Huntley approved. 
 This closed his examination. 
 
 Then Mr. Huntley inquired if she expected to 
 teach Latin and French. On her answering in 
 the affirmative, he wrote rapidly on the black- 
 board the first lines of Horace's satire "Qui fit 
 Maecenas, xc"; then had her to translate, parse, 
 and give derivations. His questions followed her 
 answers more rapidly as they proceeded, and at 
 length, when inquiring about the subjunctive 
 mood, he plied them so fast as to embarrass her 
 and cause her to hesitate. He saw her difficulty 
 quickly, however, asked pardon, and resumed his
 
 THE STRANGER 43 
 
 grave, deliberate manner. He gave no sign of 
 approval or disapproval. 
 
 Next he handed her a tattered, dog-eared copy 
 of Chapsal's Literature Francaise, which she had 
 seen him take from a desk a few minutes before, 
 and requested her to read a portion of Thierry's 
 account of the assassination of Thomas a Becket, 
 at which the book was opened. This was quite a 
 relief to Eleanor after Horatian philosophy and 
 Roman brevity, the clear, nervous style of this 
 author leaving nothing to be supplied. She was 
 allowed to read nearly two pages before being 
 called upon to translate; and when she then 
 looked above the book, she was surprised to see 
 that he had approached within a few feet of her, 
 and was regarding her with close but not unsym- 
 pathetic scrutiny. After she had translated he ex- 
 amined her closely, particularly on verbs and ac- 
 cents, displaying his own careful study of the 
 language, and testing pretty thoroughly her 
 knowledge of it. But he still gave no sign of 
 judgment on her answers. 
 
 Then he drew from his pocket a small volume, 
 and opening it handed it to her. She saw the in- 
 troduction to Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. 
 
 When, in response to the request of Mr. Hunt- 
 ley, she began to read, Mr. Cogburn interrupted 
 her: 
 
 "What's that? 'Tain't a grammar nor rhetoric, 
 is it?" 
 
 "No, it is not," said Mr. Huntley, dryly. "It is 
 the preface to Macaulay's poems called 'Lays of 
 Ancient Rome.' ' 
 
 "Humph !" snorted Mr. Cogburn. "Is that for 
 an examination on English?"
 
 44 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Exactly," answered Mr. Huntley. "And if 
 Mr. Cogburn will control himself for a while, I 
 imagine that he will hear something connected 
 with the English language. Proceed, if you 
 please, Miss Field." 
 
 She read. When she paused after reading a 
 page or more, he inquired, "Would reliable have 
 done as well as trustworthy?" 
 
 "No," answered Eleanor. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because reliable is not correct English, either 
 in reason or on authority." 
 
 "Ahem," grunted the Colonel, and Mr. Cog-- 
 burn ejaculated "Aha!" and scratched his jaw. 
 
 The examiner proceeded to question her on 
 grammar, a long process, and she was relieved 
 when he concluded. 
 
 She was then informed by Colonel Tomlinson 
 that they would through him communicate to her, 
 in the course of the day, their decision on her ap- 
 plication, he retaining her recommendations and 
 certificates till that time. Then all of them arose, 
 and she was dismissed. 
 
 Just before sunset she received a note from 
 the chairman, enclosing her papers, and announc- 
 ing, in rather stately but complimentary terms, 
 the satisfaction of the board with her examination 
 and her credentials, and expressing the hope that 
 it would be agreeable to her to enter upon her 
 duties on the following Monday. The writing 
 was in a large, somewhat tremulous hand, and 
 signed by Colonel Tomlinson as chairman of the 
 board.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The teacher met no member of the school 
 board between the day of her examination, which 
 was Thursday, and the opening of the school on 
 Monday, and she received no communication 
 from any of them except a brief note from Mr. 
 Cogburn, informing her of his reception of Cap- 
 tain Meacham's letter, and professing his readi- 
 ness to carry out the Captain's wishes a very 
 short, dry, ill-written scrawl. She saw Colonel 
 Tomlinson walking at a distance on the street, on 
 Friday, and late Saturday afternoon she saw Mr. 
 Huntley riding through the main street on Delta. 
 But he did not look toward the window of her 
 room where she sat, and to say the truth, she 
 observed little of him except the large, sharp- 
 rowelled spurs he wore, her attention being 
 drawn almost wholly to the beauty and grace of 
 the mare. 
 
 She walked through the village in one direction 
 on Friday, and in another on Saturday. She 
 found the streets rough and neglected, with many 
 stones heaped together in some places, and worn 
 into mud-holes in others. The sidewalks were 
 unpaved except in front of stores, and not al- 
 ways there, and the best paving was of bricks ir- 
 regularly laid, or else unhewn and poorly fitted 
 slabs of granite. Some of the residences on the 
 outskirts were large and apparently comfortable, 
 but the architecture was stiff, square, and monot- 
 onous. There was no ornament on store or dwell-
 
 46 THE STRANGER 
 
 ing, not a bow-window, or a gambrel roof, or tur- 
 ret, or cupola, or even a hip-roof anywhere. 
 Every structure, except five or six stores, was of 
 wood, and scarcely one appeared to have been 
 painted within twenty years. The outbuildings 
 were small and rough, and a good many of them 
 crazy. The fences were generally dilapidated. 
 Cows and hogs roamed at will through the streets, 
 and the latter had some of their wallows close 
 against the sidewalks, just out of the beaten way. 
 She met a good many negroes, the women being 
 generally very dowdy, and the men and boys 
 mostly uncleanly and wretchedly clad. She also 
 met a good many whites, the men and boys gen- 
 erally fairly well clothed, and they always gave her 
 the inside of the walk. They almost always gave 
 her a pretty full stare, but not a rude or familiar 
 one. The women and girls were much better 
 dressed, and the latter stared steadily at her. The 
 former generally gave a single glance, gathered 
 up their skirts, looked another way, and gave a 
 very wide berth in passing just as her friend 
 Agnes Meacham had written. Of course all the 
 adult residents in this village knew who she was. 
 Mrs. Anderson and her husband were courteous 
 to her, but of course they had no occasion to be 
 either friendly or unfriendly. 
 
 She received the keys of the academy Thurs- 
 day afternoon with the note announcing the de- 
 cision of the trustees. On Friday morning she 
 went there, and with the assistance of a small 
 negro girl whom she hired on the street, swept 
 and arranged the furniture. She found two or 
 three cords of wood in one of the school-rooms,
 
 THE STRANGER 47 
 
 ready for fire making, and a liberal supply of 
 lightwood. 
 
 On Sunday morning she went to the Methodist 
 church, a small, aged, wooden building, poorly 
 furnished, having a long gallery on three sides 
 and a small pulpit, and showing many cobwebs on 
 the upper half of the narrow Gothic windows. 
 She received stares from the men and boys loiter- 
 ing about the door, as she approached, but taking 
 a seat pretty near the altar, she did not know 
 whether the body of the congregation noticed her 
 or not. Some aged ladies in the "amen corner" 
 adjusted their spectacles and scanned her at- 
 tentively when she took her place, but that was to 
 be expected in any small village. 
 
 When they were dismissed a good many ladies 
 and girls lingered in the two aisles chatting, and 
 as she passed through the groups she received 
 much scrutiny. But everywhere the way was 
 promptly opened for her to pass, and she observed 
 nothing but vague curiosity on any countenance. 
 She did hear one deaf old lady say, "Well, she's 
 mighty pretty, anyhow" ; but this was the only 
 expression she could by any means take to her- 
 self, and it, she thought, might have been applied 
 to some one else. She was glad to see so many 
 persons at this church, and so many going to and 
 coming from the other churches, and so few per- 
 sons standing or sitting on the streets. It was re- 
 assuring to be in a church-going community simi- 
 lar to that at home. 
 
 Thirty young people met Eleanor at the open- 
 ing of the school, and a more heterogeneous gath-
 
 48 THE STRANGER 
 
 ering- could scarcely be imagined. There was the 
 over-grown, slow, staring son of an ignorant 
 farmer; there was the sickly, pampered, fretful 
 daughter of another farmer ; there was the son of 
 a village preacher, and with all the mischief that 
 usually characterizes a preacher's son ; there was 
 the son of a village shop-keeper, accustomed to 
 loaf around the shop and hear all sorts of talk ; 
 there was the conceited daughter of a wealthier 
 merchant, who imagined her father was a nabob, 
 and herself a sort of princess ; there was the prim 
 village maiden of six or eight years, whose 
 mother was a widow, and who, like her mother, 
 thought she had to make up in exclusiveness and 
 propriety what she lacked in money and mind ; 
 There were, finally, a crowd of children of black- 
 smiths, sewing-women, people with no regular 
 employment and no certain income, the chil- 
 dren of dead parents whose insolvency had 
 thrown their offspring on the bounty of grand- 
 parents or sympathetic friends almost all of 
 them healthy, noisy, thoughtless and totally un- 
 disciplined, though usually warmer hearted and 
 better tempered than the others. Eleanor met 
 them all with a cordial greeting and a smile, and 
 invited them to be seated in the main room, 
 placing on the recitation benches as many of them 
 as could be seated there, and distributing the oth- 
 ers among the desks nearest her. Very few re- 
 sponded to her salutation. The most of them 
 stared at her. This survey did her no harm, for 
 she was a handsome woman, and well clad, and 
 the pupils were evidently impressed by her man- 
 ner of meeting them.
 
 THE STRANGER 49 
 
 She proceeded to take their names, but not 
 without some delay and questioning. The boys 
 were troublesome enough with their "Jims" and 
 "Jacks" and "Toms" and "Bills," but the girls 
 were more so with their "Minnies," which stood 
 for Mary, Marion, Martha, Margaret, and several 
 other names beginning with M; their Matties, 
 which included Martha, Matilda, Mabel, and one 
 or two more ; their Nannies, which included Ann, 
 Annie, Nancy and others ; to say nothing of the 
 Pets, Pearls, Sissies, Doves, Chickens, and all 
 sorts of cognomens so constantly applied to the 
 little ones at home that they had, in some cases, 
 forgotten their baptismal names. One small boy 
 gave his name as "Plug." When questioned he 
 stated that everybody called him "Plug Ugly." 
 His name proved to be Richard Baxter. Another, 
 who gave his name as "Pole," was forced by his 
 comrades to acknowledge himself to be named 
 "Napoleon Bonaparte." 
 
 However, she succeeded at last in putting all 
 of them on the list. But then came the difficulty 
 of arranging them in classes. Of course this could 
 not be satisfactorily accomplished the first day, 
 but even a temporary classing was found to be at- 
 tended with much trouble. She had serious 
 doubts all along, and these were much increased, 
 and in no case solved, by the grumbling of these 
 free-spoken youngsters. One howled that he had 
 "nuvver been put in a class with Jane Swiggins" ; 
 another boy snarled that "Sim Thompson couldn't 
 study alongside of him" ; a tall, dough-faced girl 
 protested that the last teacher "never thought 
 4
 
 50 THE STRANGER 
 
 once of letting Julia Montgomery go into her 
 class" ; a sharp-featured, black-eyed lad of twelve 
 years giggled at the idea of "old Pole Timmons" 
 studying the same books with himself ; and not a 
 few girls threw up their heads and looked aside 
 scornfully when it was proposed that they should 
 work with certain other girls or certain boys. 
 Eleanor almost lost her temper when the dissatis- 
 faction became so general, and said, with some 
 sternness, "You will go into the classes to which 
 I assign you. If I find as I expect to do in some 
 cases that my arrangement is imperfect, I shall 
 be quite as ready as you can desire to correct it. 
 But you will study where I put you. Come here, 
 Martha Jones, and take your seat." This was 
 spoken to the tall, scornful girl. Martha flushed, 
 for once in her life seeing an issue offered her; 
 but after a moment's pause she submitted. The 
 rest were wise enough to see that the chief recal- 
 citrant had been selected, and therefore that none 
 could expect his or her protests to be regarded. 
 One uncleanly, heavy-limbed boy, with a huge 
 mouth, low forehead, and small greenish eyes, de- 
 clined positively to take a place in any class, giv- 
 ing as his reason that "Mr. Jackson" the last 
 teacher "had allers heerd him say his lessons by 
 himself" as another boy interpreted the little 
 savage's mutterings to Eleanor, who could not 
 distinguish what he said. She informed him that 
 he could go home and stay there until she had 
 taken the decision of the trustees. The other 
 boys grinned while the little rebel picked up a 
 fearfully battered spelling-book and a dog-eared 
 "reader" and went away. One boy whispered to
 
 THE STRANGER 51 
 
 another, loud enough for Eleanor to hear, "Mr. 
 Huntley'll see atter him!" from which she in- 
 ferred that Mr. Huntley was no friend to rude, 
 stupid boys. 
 
 At last the motley crew were arranged, except 
 one little tot of a girl, apparently six or seven 
 years of age, who had been half-crying all the 
 time, and finally broke down completely when the 
 Martin boy was sent home. She sobbingly gave 
 her name as "Mi-hi-hi-nie Ha-ha-hax-well" 
 Minnie Haxwell. This tender thing Eleanor took 
 by the hand and kept with her till the school was 
 dismissed. The teacher assigned lessons in their 
 old textbooks, told them to be present at roll-call 
 at nine o'clock the next morning, closed the doors 
 and windows, and, taking Minnie with her, walked 
 back to the hotel at twelve o'clock. 
 
 Minnie parted from her quite happy, and put 
 her little arms around the teacher's neck as they 
 kissed each other good-by. 
 
 But there arose, on this first day, a controversy 
 over school hours. Eleanor announced that, while 
 it was not material to herself, she decided to open 
 at nine o'clock in the forenoon and close at two 
 o'clock in the afternoon, allowing one recess of 
 twenty minutes to the whole school, at half past 
 eleven, and such other recesses of ten minutes 
 each to the younger pupils as their needs should 
 appear to demand. She asked no child's opinion, 
 nor the opinion of any patron. The pupils, how- 
 ever, soon indicated that the arrangement suited 
 them, for it had been the custom to open at half- 
 past eight, hold through to twelve, then resume
 
 52 THE STRANGER 
 
 at two o'clock and continue till five six hours and a 
 half in all against five hours appointed by Eleanor. 
 
 The next morning she received a dozen notes 
 from parents, some quite polite, some not exactly 
 so, some written in fair hand, some in scrawls dif- 
 ficult to decipher, some correctly spelled, some 
 containing fearful mutilations of the most com- 
 mon words, but all agreeing in protesting against 
 the proposed innovation on a time-honored us- 
 age. As twelve letters represented fourteen pu- 
 pils, and the silent patrons sixteen, she took it 
 that a bare majority were with her. She saw that 
 she had, in the expressive language of the day, 
 "gone too fast." She adopted the regulation of 
 the schools she had attended without suspecting 
 that it was otherwise in this backwoods village. 
 But once shown that the custom here had been 
 different, her knowledge of the intense conserva- 
 tism of the people caused her to pause. It would 
 be folly to raise war at the very outset over a mat- 
 ter that involved no serious principle. But having 
 a very positive idea on the subject, and having 
 taken a position which some patrons approved, 
 she declined to recede on her own motion. She 
 therefore announced that she would continue the 
 schedule already announced, until she received 
 the direction of the trustees, and that she would 
 at once call upon them to decide: and she wrote 
 this decision to each one of the patrons who had 
 written her. 
 
 When the three trustees met her in the hotel 
 parlor, on the afternoon of the following day, she 
 handed them the notes she had received, and 
 asked instructions. Colonel Tomlinson, being an
 
 THE STRANGER 53 
 
 advocate of holidays and taking life easy, was not 
 averse to her plan, his only difficulty being the 
 dreadful precedent that might be established in 
 departing from the usages of old times. Mr. Cog- 
 burn snapped his eyes and sniffed his words, and 
 talked all around the question, but finally de- 
 clared for the old schedule. Mr. Huntley spoke 4 
 plainly and positively in favor of the hours 
 Eleanor had announced, hooting at the idea of 
 children performing intellectual labor for six 
 hours or more in a day, declaring that much ac- 
 tive exertion was a trial even to a mature mind 
 accustomed to study, and ascribing to the long 
 confinement usual in schools much of the apathy 
 and inertness of the average pupil and much of 
 the delicate health of the more studious ones. 
 
 "Why," interrupted Mr. Cogburn with some 
 energy, "everybody went to school six or seven 
 or eight hours a day, in old times!" 
 
 "To be sure," responded Huntley. ''And that 
 was one of the causes of their learning so little. 
 Behold the fruits of all-day schooling in these 
 notes before you. They are written, almost 
 wholly by women and men of intelligence, every 
 one of whom went to school for years; yet here 
 is hours spelt h-o-w-e-r-s; here is Miss Field's 
 name spelt F-e-e-1; here is the N in Nancy, and a 
 signature at that, printed wrong end foremost," and 
 he showed the signature. 
 
 This from one of his decision and universally 
 recognized industry and scholarship carried the 
 day. As soon as a decision was rendered, Hunt- 
 ley walked out of the room, saying, "Miss Field, 
 I think we shall have no further trouble about
 
 54 THE STRANGER 
 
 this matter. But if any one complains, refer him 
 or her to me as responsible for everything in- 
 volved in the arrangement." 
 
 So everything was arranged, and not a pupil 
 left the school except the rickety small son of the 
 lady who printed her name with a reversed N. 
 The children had been illy taught, and they 
 gave evidence of having been laxly disciplined at 
 home. It was therefore difficult for them to con- 
 tinue the studies to which they had heretofore 
 been advanced, and it was more difficult to prevail 
 upon them to study with attention and care. 
 Their brightness and their independence of 
 thought were most agreeable to the teacher, but 
 their want of accuracy was distressing beyond 
 measure. In some instances their deplorable ig- 
 norance of all that preceded what he or she was 
 now studying forced Eleanor to put such a one 
 into a lower class; but such action always ap- 
 peared to the child to be a degradation, and con- 
 sequently, she often felt compelled by her regard 
 for the little one's feelings to carry him or her for- 
 ward, heavy as was the burthen upon herself. 
 These efforts were not generally appreciated, for 
 the children seemed to regard a teacher as a 
 hireling, without feeling, without any sense of 
 duty, and without any but the smallest personal 
 rights. There was rarely any sign of any one of 
 them recognizing the dignity of her office. It 
 would probably have been somewhat different 
 with a teacher of their own section, for such a one 
 would not have encountered the odium of being a 
 "Yankee" adventuress seeking only her good, 
 as was more than once said of her among the
 
 THE STRANGER 55 
 
 children, in one form of words or another, when 
 they thought she could not hear them. But for her 
 there was the threefold task of teaching badly 
 taught children, of teaching children who were not 
 controlled at home, and of teaching children 
 who were filled with prejudice against her, per- 
 sonally. And she had no help. The trustees were 
 polite to her, and the chairman and Mr. Cogburn 
 were profuse in their offers to assist her as much 
 as they could; but even by these wordy gentle- 
 men she was given to understand that she must 
 work her own way. They gave her practically 
 unlimited authority; having so done, they in- 
 tended to leave her to pursue her own course and 
 assume all responsibilities. The public was si- 
 lent. No voice intimated approval or disap- 
 proval. A murmur from some parent or guardian 
 occasionally reached her through the pupils, but 
 never a word or a hint of commendation. 
 
 She did not make the acquaintance of a single 
 patron of the school except Mr. Cogburn, who 
 sent a negative daughter of ten years and a fat 
 boy about two years younger. The father sniffed 
 out, now and then, that it was very well, but did 
 not say anything definite. His wife did not call 
 upon her, nor did Mrs. Tomlinson. Huntley was 
 unmarried, and, living two miles away from the 
 village, was seldom there. 
 
 Outside of the school-room she had next to no 
 acquaintance with the pupils. The boys doffed 
 their hats when they met her on the street, and 
 the girls murmured her name in a monotonous 
 tone when they came close to her. But not one 
 of either sex ever came to visit her or joined, or
 
 56 THE STRANGER 
 
 indicated a disposition to join her in her solitary 
 walks. It seldom happened that any one recog- 
 nized her at all when separated from her a dis- 
 tance- of thirty or forty feet, though tin- hoys hal 
 looed at their comrades a hundred yards away 
 and the girls screamed at their cronies across all 
 the streets of the village. Timid little Minnie 
 llaxwell once gave her an early jonquil she had 
 found in her mother's yard, but this was the 
 single attention volunteered on the part of her 
 pupils. 
 
 At the expiration of the first calendar month, 
 though less than three weeks had passed since 
 the opening of the school, Colonel Tomlinson, as 
 chairman of the board of trustees, sent her a 
 month's salary. She wrote a reply, returning 
 one-fourth of it and reminding him that she had 
 served barely three school weeks. In a few hours 
 that nvMlU-iii.-m returned to her, by Mr. C'o^huni, 
 the ten dollars, and wrote to inform her that "the 
 board, in the exercise of the functions imposed 
 upon them by the charter of the academy and the 
 established usages of many years, could not rec- 
 ognize any fraction of a month"; that "the books 
 of account had already been made up for the 
 month of January, and could not be corrected"; 
 and that "Miss Field would oblige the board by 
 sending hy Mr. Cochin n a receipt for forty dol 
 lars, in order to enahle the hoard to vouch its ae 
 count." Mr. Cogburn told her that no other re 
 sponse to this grandiloquence would be enter- 
 tained than the receipt demanded which was 
 sent at once. It certainly was all a matter of 
 business liberal business, of course, but only busi- 
 ness.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 It now became clear to Eleanor that her sal- 
 ary would not warrant her continued stay at the 
 hotel, where her board cost twenty-five dollars 
 per month. It was painful to think of making a 
 change, for lonely as her life was there, she was 
 kindly treated by the proprietor and his wife, and 
 she enjoyed a freedom scarcely to be expected 
 elsewhere. And where else was she to go? She 
 could not rent a room and live on bread and 
 cheese, and certainly she could not do her own 
 cooking. But what decent family would receive 
 her? It was not likely that those who had so 
 studiously avoided even an admission of her ex- 
 istence would consent to have her live with them, 
 and she would rather go to the alms-house than 
 live in a family of such base people as would re- 
 ceive her merely for the little money she could 
 pay them. And what sort of intercourse could 
 she expect with any family in a community which, 
 without exception, had set its face against her? 
 She thought she would hardly be insulted; but 
 her experience so far had led her to expect from 
 any forced connection with a family a misery 
 scarcely less horrible than that which the tyrant 
 Mazentius inflicted on his victims by chaining 
 them to the dead bodies of men to which, by the 
 way, St. Paul perhaps refers when he speaks of "the 
 body of this death." 
 
 In her distress she wrote to Captain Meacham. 
 The next mail brought a letter from the Captain
 
 58 THE STRANGER 
 
 himself, in which she was told to apply to Mr. 
 Cogburn, and show him the letter. The Cap- 
 tain's letter was couched in very courteous terms 
 toward both herself and Mr. Cogburn, and ap- 
 peared to assume that his friend Mr. Cogburn 
 would not hesitate to assist Miss Field in pro- 
 curing a comfortable and thoroughly respectable 
 boarding-house. But there was a slip of paper, 
 enclosed with the letter, for Eleanor's sole pe- 
 rusal, and it contained these words: "Have no 
 fear of Mr. Cogburn's refusing to help you in this 
 matter. Go to him at once, if you have any con- 
 fidence in my judgment." This sounded a little 
 mysterious, but she acted immediately on the in- 
 junction. She had already spoken with Mrs. An- 
 derson, and that lady, after a languid expression 
 of regret in losing her, had suggested that she 
 might be comfortably lodged, nearer the academy, 
 with Mrs. Haxwell, the widowed mother of timid 
 little Minnie. Mrs. Anderson stated tnat she had 
 barely a speaking acquaintance with Mrs. Hax- 
 well, but said that, though a very plain and very 
 poor woman, she had a neat cottage and was con- 
 sidered quite respectable. 
 
 Mr. Cogburn blinked his ferret eyes a good 
 deal over Captain Meacham's letter, and fingered 
 it no little with his blunt, awkward digits while he 
 "hum-m-d !" and "aha-ed" and talked generalities. 
 But when Eleanor, after waiting in vain for any defi- 
 nite expression, mentioned Mrs. Haxwell, the mer- 
 chant seized upon the idea with ardor, declaring 
 that it was very strange that he had not thought 
 of her before, and protesting that she was the 
 "best sort of a woman," and boarded people at
 
 THE STRANGER 59 
 
 fifteen dollars per month, including lights, fuel, 
 and winter washing. This last item he explained 
 by saying that it related to the laundering of such 
 clothing as women usually wear in winter, a 
 higher price being charged in summer. Then he 
 scribbled a short note and handed it, in an open 
 envelope, to Eleanor, to be delivered to the lady 
 under discussion. Eleanor desired him to seal the 
 envelope, as she declined to read what he had 
 written, and desired that Mrs. Haxwell should 
 have no ground for suspecting that she had read 
 it. He made a pretense of having to return to his 
 desk, to seal it "straight," but she saw that he 
 added two or three lines to the note. 
 
 Then she called upon Mrs. Haxwell. The cot- 
 tage was cozily located among large oaks, and the 
 premises, though lacking the flowers, grass plots, 
 shrubbery and graveled walks common to New 
 England village homes, were neat and in fair re- 
 pair. The floors of the house were clean and 
 white, and so were the walls and ceilings. There 
 was only a well-worn cheap carpet in the parlor, 
 without a rug, and there was no carpet nor 
 matting in the passageway. The furniture was 
 common, rather battered, and certainly old. It 
 was plainly a poor widow's house, but it looked 
 as if it might be comfortable enough in this warm 
 climate. 
 
 Minnie answered the teacher's rap at the open 
 front door, and received her with a shy but pleased 
 air, and invited her into the faded parlor. Very 
 soon a short, stout, black-haired woman walked 
 slowly into the room, so slowly indeed as to get a 
 thorough stare at the visitor before reaching her.
 
 60 THE STRANGER 
 
 Eleanor bowed and handed her Mr. Cogburn's 
 note, saying, as she did so, that it would explain 
 the object of her visit. The woman read it with 
 evident difficulty and a good many returns to the 
 first words of the communication. 
 
 After a few questions as to Miss Field's prefer- 
 ence of the location of a room, her hours for rising 
 and eating, her health, her antecedents, some re- 
 marks on the weather, and a scattering disquisition 
 on teaching, politics, and some other things hav- 
 ing no connection with an application for board 
 all spoken in very bad English Mrs. Haxwell 
 concluded that she might take the teacher for a 
 month or two, or perhaps longer if the teacher 
 could put up with "poor folk's" fare and with such 
 other things as could be provided and arranged 
 by a "widder" who had not long recovered from 
 a "spell o' yaller janders," "neuralzy" and chills, 
 and who was a chronic sufferer from a "misery in 
 her head." The lady was so gracious as to prom- 
 ise to do her best for one to whom Minnie had 
 "tuck sich a likin'," and of whom Minnie talked 
 "so powerful much." The rate proposed was 
 fifteen dollars a month, and Eleanor, rather faint 
 and troubled, agreed to take her chances at the 
 cottage. So she moved her effects that after- 
 noon to the new home, and entered at once upon 
 the experiment. 
 
 She expected little comfort, and she forced her- 
 self to find an excuse for every unpleasantness 
 she encountered. But she soon saw that her cal- 
 culations had not embraced half of the disagree- 
 able features of the situation. Mrs. Haxwell was
 
 THE STRANGER 61 
 
 an industrious woman, doing five times as much 
 work as was done by her black untidy help, a girl 
 of about twelve years of age, whom she invariably 
 called "that nigger Polly"; she was neat in her 
 person, about her table, and in her kitchen, and 
 had a positive mania for sweeping and scouring 
 floors ; she was good-natured in the main, except 
 with "that nigger Polly" ; she spoke politely and 
 always virtuously; her shortcomings consisted in 
 calling Polly "a heifer" or "a fool" when she 
 thought her boarder could not hear; and she was 
 careful to keep her little daughter in modest and 
 kindly deportment. But she was fearfully ignorant, 
 dominated by prejudices, ungraceful in all her 
 movements and in her speech; her fare was 
 coarse, consisting mostly of fried bacon, tough, 
 half-cooked biscuits, sobby corn bread, muddy 
 coffee, rank collards, and butter which might have 
 been churned at any time before the current year ; 
 she started at work before daylight with a clamor 
 that put an end to all sleep, had breakfast by the 
 time the sun rose, dinner at twelve, and supper at 
 sunset; she seldom had a comfortable fire from 
 the green wood which she burned because it was 
 cheap, and never had a good light from her ill-kept 
 coal-oil lamps; she talked mostly of her "ail- 
 ments" and those of the neighborhood, going 
 often into details that would affect the gorge 
 of a professional nurse ; and hinted much con- 
 cerning the improper lives and motives of her 
 neighbors; and she never once responded to a 
 thought or sentiment of her guest beyond the 
 commonest affairs of human life. 
 
 Eleanor fought on bravely. She never com-
 
 62 THE STRANGER 
 
 plained, she wrote cheerful letters home, she 
 worked hard at school, she took long walks for 
 her health : yet she soon found herself dyspeptic, 
 her sleep brief and restless, her dreams distress- 
 ing, her whole spiritual nature drooping and de- 
 ranged. Many a night she went to her bed weary, 
 nervous and despairing. Sometimes she felt as if 
 she must shriek aloud her agony. Once or twice 
 she closed her eyes at night with the hope that 
 death would relieve her before the next rising of 
 the sun. 
 
 One Sunday she went to religious service when 
 scarcely able to walk. There was no Episcopal 
 church in the village, but once in every month a 
 clergyman of that denomination officiated in the 
 afternoon at the Methodist church. There was 
 but a small attendance, and therefore she sought 
 a pew near the chancel, with the feeling that those 
 who participated in the exercises ought to be 
 close to the minister and to one another. As she 
 was about to enter an open pew the sight of mud 
 and bread-crumbs on the floor caused her to hesi- 
 tate. Then a tall, slender woman sitting in the 
 pew back moved from the end where she sat, and 
 by a movement of her head invited the teacher to 
 sit beside her. Eleanor had forgotten her prayer- 
 book, and the same lady handed her one just as 
 the minister appeared. 
 
 At the farther end of the pew sat William Hunt- 
 ley, grave and thoughtful, always following the 
 service, yet never opening his lips. Once or twice 
 the lady glanced at him, but he turned his eyes 
 neither to the right nor the left, nor indicated any 
 feeling, except once, when the choir blundered
 
 THE STRANGER 63 
 
 for a bar or two in their singing. Then he slight- 
 ly shrugged his shoulders, but did not change 
 countenance. 
 
 The sermon was long and very dry, yet Eleanor 
 experienced a feeling of repose and a sense of 
 comfort not common with her in those days. 
 While the minister droned out his platitudes, and 
 the congregation sat still and drowsy, she inhaled 
 the soft air that breathed through the open win- 
 dows, and listened to the twitter of birds among 
 the trees and tombs of the churchyard, and 
 caught glimpses of white clouds slowly floating 
 across the deep blue sky. It was for her a day of 
 rest. 
 
 At the conclusion of the service she returned 
 to her neighbor the book she had given her, with 
 a few words of thanks. The lady looked at her 
 face for a moment, and then replied, with a smile, 
 that she had seen the stranger without a book, 
 and had herself one to spare. Huntley reached 
 the aisle by this time, and bowed to Eleanor, call- 
 ing her by name. Eleanor preceded them out of 
 the church, and betook herself to the graveyard, 
 which she had visited several times before, and in 
 which she always found a sort of melancholy sat- 
 isfaction the dead of nearly two centuries had 
 no word or look of reproach for her, but received 
 her as thev did all others. 
 
 Here Mrs. Anderson joined her, and inquired, 
 with an appearance of interest, after her health. 
 As she did so, Eleanor saw the lady who had sat 
 with her walk into the street, attended by Hunt- 
 ley. A carriage met her, but she seemed to give 
 some directions to the driver, indicating that she
 
 64 THE STRANGER 
 
 did not propose to ride just then. Then she and 
 Huntley walked away, the carriage following 
 them. Eleanor asked the name of the lady. 
 
 "Oh, that is Miss Mason Miss Margaret 
 Mason Mr. Huntley's cousin. Isn't she beauti- 
 ful?" 
 
 "I think so," answered Eleanor. "I never saw 
 anything more lovely than her deep blue-gray 
 eyes and her classic face." 
 
 "She is admitted to be the beauty of the coun- 
 ty," said Mrs. Anderson, "and she is as good as 
 she looks. She is well suited to be the wife of 
 Mr. Huntley." 
 
 "They are to be married then?" inquired Elea- 
 nor. 
 
 "Oh, yes; everybody expects it to come off 
 very soon." 
 
 "I should say," returned Eleanor, fervently, 
 "that she is worthy of any man in the world." 
 
 As they returned by the door they discovered 
 Colonel Tomlinson holding an enormous prayer- 
 book in his hands, which looked old enough to 
 have served all the generations of Tomlinsons 
 since Edward VI. He was talking loftily to 
 several ladies, one of whom, Mrs. Anderson 
 whispered to Eleanor, was his wife. He lifted 
 his silk hat to the two, and even condescended to 
 call their names ; but at once resumed his dis- 
 course to his immediate companions. Mrs. 
 Anderson accompanied Eleanor to Mrs. Hax- 
 well's gate, and talked very pleasantly. At part- 
 ing she advised the young stranger to take care 
 of her health, looking rather wistfully at her as 
 she spoke.
 
 THE STRANGER 65 
 
 Mrs. Haxwell received a new lodger, soon after 
 Eleanor went to board with her, in one Jacob 
 Haxwell, the son, as the lady described him, "of 
 her own dear brother Jake." Jake was not 
 vicious, but he had the misfortune to say and do 
 everything in the most awkward and rude fashion. 
 If he handed one anything he thrust it against the 
 recipient with a force that threatened to push 
 him down ; if he spoke it was as if he was howling 
 at some one half a mile away; when he laughed 
 he made the rafters shake ; when he walked every 
 pillar under the house trembled. Minnie stood 
 in absolute terror of him, the cats left any room 
 he entered. He ate like a famished hound, he 
 broke many pieces of glass and crockery ; he now 
 and then twisted the legs off the chair he sat on, 
 he tore his clothes every day, he fell up and down 
 the steps to the house, and when it would be im- 
 agined that sleep had confined his boisterous 
 energies for a season he filled the house with 
 snores that would have done credit to an elephant. 
 Polly was Jack's favorite diversion, and he her 
 peculiar abomination. He teased her as much as 
 he did the cats ; he stumbled against her in walk- 
 ing, he removed out of her reach everything she 
 was to handle, he called her to his aunt a thousand 
 times when she was not wanted, he spilled water 
 on her great feet, he shied stones around her when 
 she was out of doors, he had something to say 
 whenever she was present and, when compelled 
 to desist from other aggressions, made faces at 
 her. Eleanor once overheard her muttering, "I 
 wish Miss Hax'll 'uld send dat despisable Jake to. 
 de country or to de debble, I doan' keer which ! M 
 5
 
 66 THE STRANGER 
 
 Jake was sent to school. Then Eleanor en- 
 joyed a new taste of his genius. He went to sleep 
 as soon as he was stopped from pinching other 
 boys, he never learned a lesson, he made hideous 
 faces at the girls, he had several fights (in which 
 he was invariably worsted, for he was very slow 
 and clumsy), he threw stones all the way between 
 home and the academy, he made more noise at 
 recess than any five of the pupils, he caught flies 
 and stuck them on pins on his desk, he did every- 
 thing that could annoy and disgust decent people. 
 He did not ostracise Eleanor; he did worse. He 
 spoke the word "Yankee" to her forty times a 
 day. This was done chiefly in asking questions, 
 such as "How many soldiers wuz thar in the 
 Yankee army?" "Does the Yankees eat col- 
 lards?" "Does they have to lick Yankee boys at 
 school much?" But he admired Eleanor greatly 
 and once quite startled her at the table by bawl- 
 ing, "Is any of the other Yankee women as purty 
 as you is ?" And, to do him justice, he volunteered 
 to run errands for her repeatedly, and several 
 times carried fire-wood to her room without sug- 
 gestion from any one. She sympathized with the 
 rough boy, and used her utmost efforts to tame 
 and civilize him; but his noisiness and awkward- 
 ness and gluttony and untidiness kept her in a 
 constant worry. 
 
 She needed nothing more than Jake to wear 
 her down. After a few weeks, she scarcely ate 
 at all, slept little, and found difficulty in walking 
 to and from the academy; her work exhausted 
 her strength, and there and everywhere, and at 
 all times, a terrible depression of spirits weighed
 
 THE STRANGER 67 
 
 upon her. At last, in the middle of the week, she 
 was unable to rise in the morning, and when little 
 Minnie came to her room to notify her that break- 
 fast was ready, she sent word by her that she 
 would remain in bed that day, and desired no food. 
 Mrs. Haxwell came directly, with many questions 
 and coarse expressions of sympathy. A message 
 was then dispatched by Jake to the school, to the 
 effect that the teacher would not come that day. 
 Her landlady, after two or three visits to her 
 room, suggested that she had best send for a 
 physician, as she had symptoms of fever. Eleanor 
 soon gave her assent, for every uncomfortable 
 sensation was on the increase, and there was 
 added a strange uncertainty of vision and discon- 
 nectedness of thought. 
 
 Dr. Thompson was soon announced. He was 
 no man of science, it seemed, but quickly showed 
 that he possessed a practical judgment which was 
 likely to prove more efficient than any mere theo- 
 retical attainments. As long as Mrs. Haxwell 
 lingered in the room as the really good-natured 
 woman did from interest in the pale, weary 
 teacher he spoke in general and cheerful terms. 
 But when she was suddenly called away by the 
 sound of falling pots and pans in Polly's domain, 
 he spoke plainly. 
 
 "You suffer from mental anxiety," said he, "and 
 much of your nervous debility is owing to that 
 cause. I know of no immediate remedy for 
 such a disorder, if there be one ; but I see plainly 
 that the one physical derangement to be reached 
 is dyspepsia. That has been produced mainly by 
 the food you live on. Bacon and collards espe-
 
 68 THE STRANGER 
 
 cially fried bacon together with raw biscuits and 
 muddy, stale coffee are murdering hundreds of 
 our people. Your system, unaccustomed to such 
 diet, and subjected to the prostrating influence of 
 the warm climate of the South, has been unable 
 to stand it. You must change your boarding- 
 house, and go where you can have wholesome 
 bread and tea or milk, with butter that has been 
 churned since Noah went into the ark, and an 
 occasional egg." 
 
 "But where shall I find such a house?" 
 
 "I can't say," returned the doctor, with a little 
 nervousness. "But if you can't find it, you must 
 make up your mind to go either to your home or 
 to the graveyard." 
 
 "I had no idea that my case was so desperate as 
 that," said Eleanor, faintly. 
 
 "Of course not," said he ; "but you have been 
 stuffing yourself with what is poison to your sys- 
 tem, and you have not noticed the gradual wear 
 of it. I give you two simple prescriptions, which 
 will relieve you from the nausea and giddiness 
 temporarily; and I shall put you on a tonic to- 
 morrow; but you will not be well so long as you 
 use this fare. Mrs. Haxwell does all she knows; 
 but you can't stand it." 
 
 Then, hearing the rap of that lady on the door 
 he took his leave, and told her in passing out that 
 he happened to have a brood of "fall" chickens at 
 home, one of which he would send her, to make a 
 soup for the patient. 
 
 "I'm mighty glad," responded the simple 
 woman. "I .was a-thinkin' of chicken soup for
 
 THE STRANGER 69 
 
 Miss Eleanor; but I didn't have nary chicken 
 'cept that old red rooster what 'pears to have the 
 pip, or somethin'."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 But neither medicine nor chicken soup will cure 
 in a day, or in several days, a body diseased by 
 weeks of living on indigestible food and reduced 
 by mental overwork and distress. So although 
 Eleanor Field suffered less pain on the second 
 day of her illness, she was so debilitated as to be 
 less capable of exertion than at the beginning of 
 the attack; and that debility took possession of 
 her mind. She did not become delirious; but she 
 occasionally passed hours of which she had no dis- 
 tinct recollection afterward, and often, while en- 
 gaged in conversation with the physician or her 
 landlady, she found herself wandering into a 
 realm very different from the little room in which 
 she lay. She clung to life with something of her 
 former tenacity, for even in the midst of her tem- 
 porary aberrations she retained some thought of 
 the duties devolved upon her and some portion of 
 that courage which had carried her thus far and 
 scorned defeat. But once or twice, during these 
 periods of syncope, her body grew so cold and her 
 heart so still that the medical attendant himself 
 feared she was dying. On waking from one of 
 these spells she found the physician injecting 
 brandy into her arm, and Mrs. Haxwell chafing her 
 feet in an agony of nervous excitement. 
 
 On the third day she slept almost continuously 
 for hours. When she woke in the afternoon she 
 became aware of a new figure in the room that 
 of a young woman, who moved noiselessly from
 
 THE STRANGER 71 
 
 place to place, and occasionally looked toward the 
 bed. She studied that face and that figure with 
 the quiet interest which one feels in the gradual 
 disclosure of some entirely new phenomenon. 
 Her first thought was that this person was not 
 Mrs. Haxwell, her second that it was a handsome 
 woman tastefully dressed, her third that it was 
 some one who had nerves and could appreciate 
 the feelings of others. 
 
 "You are " began Eleanor. 
 
 "Margaret Mason," replied the visitor, in a 
 composed and cheerful voice. "Do you think you 
 would like some ice?" And she proceeded to 
 crack ice and hand it to the sick woman in a 
 small glass dish, for which she smoothed a level 
 place on the mattress and within easy reach. 
 
 After allaying her feverish thirst, Eleanor 
 turned her eyes to the stranger sitting silent be- 
 side her. She could see only her profile and the 
 contour of her head, throat and shoulders ; but 
 all these were so perfectly modeled and so sym- 
 metrical that in their repose they seemed to be 
 only clothed statuary. She began to doubt her 
 senses, and feared she was the victim of a sick 
 person's vision. So she rallied and spoke. 
 
 "How did you come here?" she inquired. 
 
 "In my carriage," replied the lady quietly, as if 
 it were the most everyday question possible. "I 
 drove from home about two hours ago. As I 
 came along the road I gathered some fine wild 
 violets. Some of them are yonder on that table. 
 I had quite a bunch of them when I returned to 
 the carriage; but a young horse I was driving 
 took fright and started as I stepped into the car-
 
 72 THE STRANGER 
 
 riage, and I dropped more than half of them. And 
 before the driver could stop, the wheel on that 
 side had passed over the dropped blossoms and 
 crushed them out of all shape. That was a worry, 
 was it not? Do you like horses?" All this was 
 spoken in a low, gentle tone, and while the lady 
 folded and unfolded her handkerchief, as if think- 
 ing only of the violets and the horses. 
 
 "I was reared in the country," responded 
 Eleanor, feebly; "and I take much pleasure in rid- 
 ing and driving." 
 
 "Then," pursued Margaret Mason, with an air 
 of enjoyment, though still speaking slowly and 
 gently, "you will understand how I was worried 
 with that young, fretful horse. Mamma told me 
 not to trust him ; but I have ridden him so often, 
 and he seemed so intelligent, that I concluded to 
 try him. But he is a thoroughbred, and you know 
 they seldom make steady draft animals." 
 
 "You were not hurt, I hope," said Eleanor. 
 
 "Oh, no, for old John is a fine coachman. You 
 have been in that wood, perhaps. It is the one 
 that lies not far beyond the Methodist church 
 where I first saw you, and is the finest forest near 
 town." 
 
 "Ah, yes!" sighed Eleanor as there arose the 
 recollection of many hours spent there in the 
 balmy afternoons. "It is a noble forest." 
 
 "Well," continued Miss Mason, after a brief 
 pause, "as I said, I brought some of those large- 
 eyed children of the forest. Here they are," and 
 she showed the patient a cluster of violets looking 
 over the rim of a small vase. She did not submit 
 them to her touch, but placed the vase on a
 
 THE STRANGER 73 
 
 bracket on the wall, where the light of the setting 
 sun showed them plainly. 
 
 "You know," she continued, "that these prod- 
 ucts of the woods have no perceptible odor. 
 They cannot, therefore, cause the nausea which 
 the cultivated violet often produces. I never al- 
 low those violets in my bed-chamber." 
 
 Eleanor lay silent, lost in dreamy enjoyment, 
 watching the flowers in the golden light and list- 
 ening to the gentle voice. This reverie was soon 
 broken by a sharp rap at the door, and on 
 Margaret Mason's opening it, Dr. Thompson en- 
 tered. Margaret went to one of the windows that 
 looked upon the street while he examined the 
 patient. The examination concluded, he said 
 nothing to the patient, but went to her visitor 
 and spoke for three or four minutes in a low tone. 
 The first words Eleanor heard were Margaret's. 
 "I understand, Doctor, and I will see that all is 
 done as you direct." 
 
 "Rest and bracing up is what we need now," 
 cried the doctor, speaking to Eleanor in a 
 sprightly voice. "Miss Mason knows all about 
 it. I shall be here pretty early in the morning. 
 In the mean time, Miss Mason has charge of 
 everything." 
 
 "I thank God!" exclaimed the sick girl, weep- 
 ing. 
 
 "Oh no, dear!" cried Margaret, hurrying to 
 her and taking one of her hands. "There's no 
 need to trouble yourself. You must just endure 
 my chat and ways of doing. Have some ice " 
 and she thrust her patient's fingers into the dish 
 she held.
 
 74 THE STRANGER 
 
 The physician talked a little about the violets, 
 referred to the fine air, impressed it upon Eleanor 
 that she must make known to her nurse every 
 pain and every wish, and concluded by predicting 
 that "we" should be "all right" in a day or two, 
 and went out of the room. Margaret Mason 
 followed him. 
 
 In a few minutes she returned, holding in her 
 hand a wine-glass, which she offered to Eleanor. 
 "Take this. It is some sherry which you are to 
 drink." Eleanor swallowed it without a word. 
 In another minute Mrs. Haxwell came in bearing 
 a tray in her hands, and after asking "if there was 
 anything more," prepared to go. Margaret stop- 
 ped her, put her hands on Eleanor's shoulders, 
 raised her, and with the landlady's assistance 
 placed two or three pillows at her back. 
 
 "Now," said Margaret, very quietly but in a 
 tone which indicated that she must be obeyed, 
 "here is a soft-boiled egg, seasoned for you. Take 
 it " and proceeded to put it to Eleanor's lips, 
 to drink. It was so fluid that a single swallow 
 disposed of it. 
 
 "Now," continued her nurse, "I put this tray at 
 your side. It has a plate of roasted Irish potatoes, 
 salted and peppered and buttered for use. Here 
 is also a bit of toast, dry but with a little butter on 
 it. You are to eat these things at your conven- 
 ience. When you have eaten them and rested a 
 little I shall come and talk to you." She smiled 
 very brightly as she spoke, and then carried Mrs. 
 Haxwell with her out of the room. It was not 
 long before her orders were obeyed, and Eleanor 
 found herself resting in ease almost in comfort.
 
 THE STRANGER 75 
 
 Just after dark a small lamp, much shaded, was 
 brought in by Mrs. Haxwell. Eleanor inquired 
 about Miss Mason, and was informed that she was 
 expected every minute. 
 
 "Then she is not here," suggested Eleanor, 
 feebly, and all hope seemed to have passed away. 
 
 Mrs. Haxwell replied that she had ridden home 
 immediately after the food had been served, but 
 stated that she would return for the night. The 
 landlady added that she herself was not so well 
 after sitting up last night of which Eleanor had 
 not known before and would therefore take rest, 
 ready, however, to answer any call Miss Mason 
 should make. And she went on to say that Jake 
 had been sent to visit his family, leaving his 
 room, which opened into the sick-room, for Miss 
 Mason's use that night. It was not possible for 
 the stranger to realize all that these words im- 
 plied, but she had recovered intelligence sufficient 
 to gather in a general way that she had been very 
 ill for twenty-four hours or longer, and that she 
 still required a good deal of attention. She at- 
 tempted an apology for giving so much trouble; 
 but Mrs. Haxwell bade her give herself no worry, 
 as no one had been "put out" by it. Presently 
 the noise of horses' feet and wheels came in from 
 the street, and in a minute thereafter Margaret 
 Mason entered. She threw off a light wrap, re- 
 moved her hat and gloves, and exchanged some 
 words with Mrs. Haxwell; then she carried the 
 lamp and her own articles of apparel into the ad- 
 joining room, leaving the door open. Then came 
 the sound of Polly's heavy feet in the hall; then 
 the bang of some vessel in the other room, which
 
 76 THE STRANGER 
 
 drew from Miss Mason the warning, "Be careful, 
 Polly!" then Polly was heard carrying wood into 
 that room and shuffling about the fire-place and 
 talking to herself; and then Polly went away, 
 saying, "Oh, thankee, mum. Much obleeged to 
 you, mum." 
 
 Eleanor now saw a new light in that room, and 
 heard the pouring of water. Then Miss Mason 
 returned with the little lamp, closed the door, 
 placed the lamp not far from the head of the bed, 
 but where Eleanor could not see it, and coming 
 to the bed laid her hand lightly on the sick girl's 
 brow, without speaking. Eleanor could not re- 
 press her tears. 
 
 "You must not worry," said Margaret. "You 
 must be very quiet and good to-night, unless you 
 suffer pain or thirst. Do you need anything now? 
 No? Then try to get a little sleep while I read a 
 book I have brought with me." Then she took a 
 seat close to the lamp and opened a small volume. 
 
 Eleanor turned her eyes toward the visitor. 
 Weak and dazed as she was she could not but ob- 
 serve the beauty of the face and figure on which 
 the lamp shed its mellow light. She saw a mass 
 of dark chestnut hair lying above a broad, low 
 forehead ; a smooth, delicately proportioned face, 
 a mouth at once expressive of resolution and 
 sweetness, a chin that seemed the perfect comple- 
 ment of the other features, a slender throat, erect 
 shoulders, and a bust whose outline seemed fol- 
 lowed to a hair's-breadth by the dress of gray in 
 which it was clothed. And as the reader pro- 
 gressed in her book the sick girl observed the 
 taper fingers that turned the pages, and could also
 
 THE STRANGER 77 
 
 see the polished nails as they rested now and then 
 on the page about to be turned. How long this 
 study of the watcher lasted Eleanor did not know, 
 but she remembered afterward that she fell asleep 
 before the figure left off reading, and that in her 
 dreams there appeared a beautiful, pure face 
 which always kept close about her, and that she 
 heard a voice of surpassing melody speaking hope 
 and peace. 
 
 Awaking from a disturbed dream she found Mar- 
 garet Mason standing beside her and holding her 
 hand. 
 
 "You have had an unquiet sleep for the last 
 two or three minutes," said the latter quietly 
 "the result of weakness rather than fever, for 
 your pulse, though quick, is thready and some- 
 what irregular. If you insist on a narcotic I will 
 give it you, as I have a preparation here ; but I 
 would rather strengthen you with a sup of wine." 
 
 "Do as you like," murmured Eleanor, help- 
 lessly. 
 
 "The wine is old and mild sherry of the kind 
 which served you well this afternoon. I never 
 like an opiate if it can be avoided." 
 
 She brought a tiny glass of wine, which Eleanor 
 swallowed as quickly as her emotion permitted, 
 for she was weeping. Margaret gave her her 
 handkerchief, and took her hand, saying, "Now 
 you will close your eyes and listen to a little 
 legend of the early times of this section of the 
 country." 
 
 With early morning, when came Margaret Ma- 
 son, she found her patient awake. Eleanor now 
 had a better view of her visitor than before ; and
 
 78 THE STRANGER 
 
 the bright glare of early day only disclosed a rarer 
 beauty and a more graceful bearing than had 
 been seen at the church or in the uncertain light 
 of the previous night. There was but one thing 
 now lacking about her that delicate pink color- 
 ing which had shone on her cheeks. She was 
 quite pale, so pale indeed as to excite in Eleanor, 
 sick as she still was, a pang of self-reproach. Her 
 first speech therefore was : 
 
 "I am so grateful to you; but so sorry to see 
 that you are not entirely well." 
 
 "Never mind about me," returned Margaret, 
 cheerfully. "I feel robust enough for any duty 
 that may come my way. I see you are better." 
 
 "Much better. I think I shall be able to get 
 on my feet to-day." 
 
 "No, no at least not this morning. Lie 
 where you are. In the afternoon I may let you 
 sit by a window and take the air and watch the 
 clouds; but you must promise not to attempt 
 anything of the kind till I consent." 
 
 "I am content to do your bidding." 
 
 "Then you will soon be well," cried Margaret, 
 laughing. "But," she went on, after a pause, 
 "this is Sunday, you know, and after a bit I must 
 go home and prepare for church. May I not write 
 for you? Be frank now. You have some loved 
 one at home, with whom you correspond. Have 
 you a mother?" 
 
 "Yes, yes. Poor mother!" cried Eleanor, 
 breaking down under the thought of that pale 
 woman waiting for the letter already due at the 
 far-off New England home. 
 
 "Now keep perfectly quiet while I write a short
 
 THE STRANGER 79 
 
 letter," said Margaret in that tone of mingled 
 gentleness and decision which seldom fails to con- 
 trol. 
 
 When she had finished the letter she asked the 
 mother's name and address, being particular to 
 have the county as well as the post-office. Then 
 she said, "Let me read you what I have written." 
 
 "You need not," cried Eleanor, in a great burst 
 of tears. "I know it is perfect. I will trust my 
 life, my happiness everything in your hands." 
 
 Margaret passed her handkerchief over her 
 own eyes for a moment, and then said gently, "I 
 hope I am worthy of such confidence." 
 
 She rose, sealed the envelope, stamped it, 
 closed the desk, and came to the bedside. 
 
 "Now," said she, "be very good while I am 
 gone. Your breakfast will be here in a minute. 
 Take this tiny cup of wine. Eat as you like ; but 
 be sure to eat something. Au revoir." Then she 
 pressed Eleanor's hand, touched her forehead 
 with her lips, and went away, carrying the letter 
 in her hand. 
 
 About an hour before sunset, Eleanor was 
 waked by the sound of something rolled across 
 the floor. Looking in that direction she per- 
 ceived a stout female figure surmounted by a 
 white head-gear which towered aloft. When the 
 thing on wheels had been moved to a window and 
 the curtain lifted, she saw before her a portly, 
 brown-faced woman, with a great, snowy head- 
 handkerchief. 
 
 "Good day," said Eleanor. 
 
 "Howdye-do," responded the dark woman with 
 & curtsy. "I hope you are doin' well."
 
 8o THE STRANGER 
 
 "Thank you," said Eleanor. "I feel somewhat 
 better." 
 
 "Yes 'm," replied the woman. "Miss Mar- 
 garet sent me to fix these things fur you. An' you'll 
 git up an' take some fresh air." 
 
 This person, though very smiling and quiet in 
 her movements, was quite as positive as her em- 
 ployer, as Eleanor soon learned; for when she 
 sought some explanation of affairs she was in- 
 formed that she was to let the woman throw her 
 wrapper around her and seat her at the window 
 with the additional information that she could 
 talk as soon as she was moved and seated. No 
 question proved of any avail whatever until these 
 things were accomplished. But once at the win- 
 dow Eleanor insisted on a statement. 
 
 "Well now, Miss," began the woman, leaning 
 against the foot of the bed and setting her hands 
 on her hips, "I'm a-goin' to tell you. My name's 
 Jane. Miss Margaret that's my young Miss, 
 her ma, Miss Caroline, bein' old Miss she calls 
 me 'Aunt Jane,' 'cause I nussed her when she was 
 a baby, an' I been goin' 'long wid her ever sence. 
 Miss Margaret says to me, jist before I went to 
 church, 'You go to Miss Field d'rectly atter 
 preachin' ; an' you'll find my easy-cheer at her do'. 
 You put dat cheer in her room, at de winder, and 
 put her in dat cheer, and wait on her.' ' 
 
 "Did she say anything else?" asked Eleanor, 
 wistfully. 
 
 Jane straightened herself as she answered se- 
 verely: "No, indeed. My young Miss knows as 
 I knows what's to be done fer sick ladies. She 
 nuvver put de insult on me of sayin' / dqn't; kn.ow
 
 THE STRANGER 81 
 
 all what's to be done. And you better know, 
 honey, if young Miss don't do it dar ain't no other 
 pusson what takes dat 'tority on herself!" Then 
 she left the room and returned directly, Polly 
 with her, bearing a silver waiter on which were 
 served a cup of tea, a dish of butter, a plate of 
 biscuits and another plate of broiled chicken. 
 Jane took the tray, bade Polly "go 'long," mut- 
 tering something about "bein' raised 'mong poor 
 folks," and after some arrangement of the viands 
 placed Eleanor's afternoon meal before her. 
 
 "I bri'led dat chicken myself, an' I made dem 
 biscuits, an' so it's all right," observed she, and 
 retired to the next room. 
 
 The meal concluded, Jane came back and gave 
 Eleanor a small glass containing a milky fluid. 
 On the latter's inquiring what it was the nurse 
 merely stated that it was "peptun, or some sich 
 name," which "young Miss" had given her to 
 administer. 
 
 Then Jane seated herself on a low chair, and 
 opened her mouth and spoke : "It's mighty 
 sensible, Miss, for you to take yo' vittles an' wait 
 a bit. Now I'm gwine to tell you. Young Miss 
 come home sorter tired dis mornin', an' den she 
 had to go to preachin'. An' when she come from 
 preachin' she was mo' tired. So her ma she tells 
 her to take a res', but she says you's got to be 
 looked atter. An' den she says Aunt Jane 
 mought look atter you. So I says, 'In course I 
 can,' an' den I up an' says I'm not gwine to let 
 young Miss wuk, an' me doin' nothin'. An' young 
 Miss, she knows well enough dat when ole 
 6
 
 82 THE STRANGER 
 
 Jane talks dat way she ain't gwine to be fooled 
 wid. So young Miss she a-knowin' I ain't 
 gwine to stan' no foolishness she says I can ride 
 in de carriage which it was comin' to fetch ole 
 Miss to see Miss Talbert which was sick close 
 here wid pneumony, which was ole Miss's friend. 
 So Jane, you see, was to come to chu'ch wid ole 
 Miss, and den come hyere. So I fixes up all my 
 t'ings, an' seb'ral t'ings (you ain't got nothin' to 
 do wid dem, in course), so as to come 'long wid 
 ole Miss. Den me an' ole Miss got into de car- 
 riage which you 'member we lef young Miss at 
 home lyin' down an' dat's de way I come hyere 
 fer to take charge of you an' gib you yo' com- 
 mandments," and Aunt Jane shook for a minute 
 in silent laughter. Eleanor was too feeble for ar- 
 guments, or for explorations into the negro mind, 
 so she simply awaited further disclosures. 
 
 "Now, den," resumed Aunt Jane, "I been come 
 hyere wid de commandments. An' de fus' of 
 dese is dat you is to eat somet'ing. You done 
 eat. Den you is to git by de winder an' git de a'r 
 an' look out. Now you have been dar. Den I 
 got to say dat young Miss can't come here 'fo' 
 to-morrow mornin'. An' den I got to take charge 
 o' you, an' see dat you git all you wants, an' sleep 
 in de room nex' you, an' an' keep you straight 
 till young Miss come in de mornin'." 
 
 "And what have I got to do?" Eleanor ven- 
 tured to ask. 
 
 "You got to 'bey de commandments," an- 
 swered Jane with decision. 
 
 "You seem to understand the case, Aunt 
 Jane."
 
 THE STRANGER 83 
 
 "In course I does ; an' you ought to know dat." 
 
 "But you must remember, Aunt Jane, that I 
 come from the North, where there are very few 
 of your people ; and therefore I don't know much 
 about family servants." 
 
 "Dat's a fac', honey," returned the woman 
 soothingly. "So I mus' tell you all 'bout it. Now 
 me an' ole Miss was gals together, an' I allers 
 waited on her. An' when young Miss come to be 
 born, ole Miss says, 'Jane, hyere is your young 
 Miss to wait on.' An' I says, 'Bless God, Miss 
 Car'line, I gwine to stan' by dis gal.' An' ef I 
 ain't done it, I like to see white or black dat can 
 come up and say so," and Jane glared fiercely 
 around the room, as if seeking such a malignant 
 and false enemy. 
 
 "Well, den," resumed she, "I jist live all my life 
 wid dem two which Mars Julius, which was ole 
 Miss's husband, died long ago, 'for' de war, a 
 leavin' dem two by deyselves." 
 
 "They were comfortable, though," suggested 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "Comfut-tub-ble !" echoed Jane, indignantly. 
 "I should say dey wuz com-fut-tub-ble ! Two 
 hundred and sebenteen niggers which I got de 
 lis' in my trunk now an' five tousen' acres o' 
 land, an' hosses an' houses, an' ebberyt'ing beau- 
 tiful, an' diamonds an' well, Miss, you can't tell 
 what dey had. Dey was rich rich !" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Aunt Jane," responded 
 Eleanor, for she seemed to have hurt the old 
 woman's feelings. 
 
 "Oh, you don't bodder 'bout pardon, honey. 
 You come fum de Norf, an' you can't know 'bout
 
 84 THE STRANGER 
 
 sich t'ings. You nuvver min'. I'll tell you de 
 God's truff, an' den you'll know. 
 
 "Dey wuz comfutable !" resumed Aunt Jane, 
 with a little acerbity still lingering in her tone. 
 "Dey wuz de riches' fam'ly in dese parts. Colonel 
 Tomlinson him what you sees 'bout hyere, big, 
 tall ole gentleman, wid long white haar an' a 
 beaver hat he wuz de nex' in riches. He had 
 two hundred niggers an' a heap o' land, but he 
 nuvver had de fine house an' de town property 
 what my white folks had, 'dough I mus' say he 
 had mighty fine bosses which he's got one or 
 two now as is as fine as any round about 'cept 
 Mars William Huntley's black mar' an' dat bay 
 hoss what young Miss is tryin' to break to de car- 
 riage, 'dough me an' her ma is always afeared he'll 
 kill her yit. But Miss Marg'ret jis' gwine to do 
 what she likes. An' brave! de Lord knows she 
 ain't afeared o' nothin', fer all dat you see her so 
 kin' an' good. De folks all makes a mighty 'mira- 
 tion when dey sees dat bay hoss a-cavortin' in de 
 street. Ya, ya, ya!" 
 
 "And you have stayed with Mrs. Mason and 
 Miss Margaret all the time?" inquired Eleanor. 
 
 "In course I is!" answered Jane, positively. 
 "What I gwine to leave my folks fur? I jis' like 
 to know how I kin leave my white folks. But 
 bein' as how you comes fum de Norf, you can't 
 tell 'bout dese t'ings. In course you can't! But 
 you jis' lissen. My fam'ly been b'long to ole 
 Miss's fam'ly more'n a hundred years. Slavery 
 times an' freedom wan't no diff'unt to me. I got 
 all de money I wants when I been a slave, an' git 
 all I wants now. $o I like fer somebody to tell
 
 THE STRANGER 85 
 
 me de diff'unce. I ain't see no diff'unce 'cept in 
 de chu'ch. I'm a Meffodis'; what is you, Miss 
 Eleanor?" 
 
 ''I'm an Episcopalian." 
 
 "Bless God!" exclaimed Jane, slapping one 
 knee with energy. "Jis' de same as my white folks ! 
 An' you come fum so fur away, too! Who'd a 
 b'lieved a Piskipalian would a' come right here to 
 us? Well now, as I wuz a' sayin', in ole slavery 
 times ole Miss an' young Miss, too made us 
 house-servints go ebry Sunday mornin' to de Pis- 
 kiple chu'ch. Atter dat we been gone whar we 
 please in de evenin' mostly to hear white or black 
 preach in de Meffodis' chu'ch." 
 
 "Did they allow a colored man to preach in a 
 church?" asked Eleanor, in surprise. 
 
 "In course dey did when he wuz a good man. 
 But you don't know. De white folks didn't have 
 a cullud pusson to preach to dem, in course, no 
 more'n what dey do now. But in de evenin' dar 
 was no preachin' fur de white folks in de Meffodis' 
 chu'ch, an' none in de Baptis'. So sometimes ole 
 Uncle Tom Brown or ole Uncle Joe Waller 
 which dey wuz cullud gin a sarmint at one 
 chu'ch or de odder. But sence de war I been 
 goin' to de sep'rate cullud Meffodis' chu'ch dat 
 is, I b'long dar. Only I does go now an' den wid 
 ole Miss or young Miss, or boff, to the Piskipalian." 
 
 "Do you ever commune at the Episcopal 
 church?" 
 
 "Dar you come to it!" cried Jane, rather ner- 
 vously. "I 'bleeged to tell you, howsomever, I 
 been dodge dat communion for 'bout a year 
 some^ time atter freedom. Fin'ly, young Miss tell
 
 86 THE STRANGER 
 
 me one Sunday I got to commune as I done long 
 time ago. I says to her, 'Miss Marg'ret,' says I, 
 'I ain't b'long to dat chu'ch no mo.' Says she, 
 'Dat don't make no diff'unce; ef you 'pent ob 
 yo' sins an' 'sire to lead a new life, you kin jis' 
 commune, pervided you been baptize, which you 
 wuz, long ago.' Says I, 'What one lone nigger 
 gwine to do 'bout communin' ?' Says she, 'Wil- 
 liam's man Josh '11 be dar, to commune.' Dat was 
 Mars William Huntley's nigger she was talkin' 
 'bout, what is his body-servant. So she nuvver 
 let me say anudder wu'd, but her an' ole Miss tuk 
 me 'long, sittin' on de box wid de driver. Sho' 
 'nough, dar was Josh in de gallery when I got 
 dar." 
 
 "So your Mars William had brought him?" re- 
 marked Eleanor. 
 
 "I reckon he did brung him!" returned Jane, 
 scornfully. "Mars William ginully brings folks 
 whar he wants to. He mighty good to Josh, an' 
 give him more'n any nigger man gits 'roun' here, 
 an' he'd shoot anybody what he caught a troublin' 
 him. But Josh got to 'bey his commandments, I 
 tell you! So dar was me an' Josh. Josh jis' look 
 like a fool. You see neider of us been to com- 
 munion dar fur oh, a year or mo'. Atter while, 
 long come communion. Lots o' people gone up 
 an' commune Piskipalians, Prissbyterians, Mef- 
 fodis', all but de Baptis'. I hope my white folks 
 done forgit. But I got sorter cu'ous when I see 
 ole Miss an' young Miss a settin' in der pew, an' 
 all de res' mostly gwine up, so I watch 'em boff; 
 I sorter 'spicioned one of 'em mought be sick. 
 Bimeby, all done commune, an' got away 'cep' ole
 
 THE STRANGER 87 
 
 Miss and young Miss. Not a soul at de altar, or 
 gwine up. I whisper to Josh, 'What kin be de 
 matter?' Den ole Miss riz up an' young Miss riz 
 up ; an' den, bless yo' soul, young Miss tu'n to de 
 gall'ry an' look me an' Josh plumb t'rough, an' 
 hole up one finger jis' a little, but I know what 
 dat mean. So I loss all my strenk, an' I jis walk 
 down out o' dat gall'ry an' Josh, too, fer he 
 ain't got no min' when he see young Miss look 
 an' down I went into de chu'ch. An' dar ole Miss 
 an' young Miss wuz a waitin' an' lookin' at we 
 two. So dem two went up to de right side of de 
 altar, an' us two went up to de lef side, an' we all 
 kneel down an' take communion. An' bless God, 
 when young Miss done broke me an' Josh in, dar 
 ain't no mo' trouble jis' like she ride a hoss onct, 
 dat hoss is hern fum dat day on. So we two goes 
 to communion dar when dey has it tain't so 
 offen 'bout three times in de year an' dey al- 
 ways waits to de las', an ole Miss an' young Miss 
 goes on de right and me an' Josh on de lef. 
 Praise de Lord !" 
 
 "Well," said Eleanor, who was taking a deep 
 interest in the nurse's reminiscences, "it did you 
 no harm." 
 
 "In cou'se it didn't. I'm pow'ful glad to keep 
 'long o' my white folks when I kin." Jane paused, 
 and gazed out of the window meditatively. 
 
 The church bells began to chime for evening 
 service, and lights began to glimmer in the neigh- 
 boring houses. Jane lighted the two lamps in the 
 room. 
 
 "Would you like to attend church this even- 
 ing?" asked Eleanor.
 
 88 THE STRANGER 
 
 "No, mum," replied Jane. "I wuz sent to nuss 
 you, an' I gwine to do it. Shill I git yo' tea?" 
 
 Eleanor assented, and the old woman shuffled 
 away. Little Minnie came in during Jane's ab- 
 sence, and talked about the day's Sunday-school 
 and the children she met there. She was quite 
 sympathetic, and when Eleanor mentioned the 
 school, told her that the trustees had notified the 
 pupils not to come until the following Wednes- 
 day. Mrs. Haxwell came later, giving as her 
 excuse for absence during the afternoon, that 
 after Jane came she knew her boarder could lack 
 nothing. She asked pleasantly after Eleanor's 
 health, placed on the mantel-piece a phial of medi- 
 cine sent by the physician, and on hearing a sec- 
 ond ringing of church bells took her leave, as- 
 suring Eleanor that she left everything in the 
 hands of Jane, but would be glad to serve her 
 whenever notified. Then Eleanor sat staring into 
 the darkness and listening to a voice somewhere, 
 a soft and sweet voice, singing "Nearer, my 
 God, to thee."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Jane remained till Monday afternoon, then 
 Miss Mason visited the patient for an hour or 
 more, bringing with her a bouquet of hot-house 
 flowers and several magazines. What else she 
 brought Eleanor never fully knew ; but afterward 
 Minnie Haxwell hinted that packages of tea, fresh 
 eggs, fresh butter, loaf sugar, delicate jellies, light 
 bread, potatoes, hominy, grits, teacakes and other 
 things were brought in the carriage, to say noth- 
 ing of a small coop of chickens whose screams 
 she herself heard when they were handed out by 
 the coachman from his seat on the box. The 
 physician came while the visitor was there, and as- 
 sured her as well as his patient that the latter was 
 convalescent, and would be able, after one more 
 day of rest and recuperation, to resume her work 
 at the school. When Margaret went away she 
 took Jane with her. 
 
 The broiled chicken was not so good coming 
 through Mrs. Maxwell's and Polly's hands as it 
 had been; nor was the tea so aromatic as that 
 she had when Margaret or Jane was in the house ; 
 nor was the toast particularly crisp; and as for 
 boiled eggs, they now seemed to have been 
 cooked exactly long enough to make the yolks 
 wax. Yet she fared tolerably well till school 
 opened, and indeed for the next two days. But 
 when Friday came she felt her former trouble re- 
 turn, and on Friday night she was in misery. 
 
 The house was now in a clamor all day long.
 
 90 THE STRANGER 
 
 Jake had returned, and bawled louder, and kicked 
 over more furniture, and dropped more things 
 than before. Polly's fingers seemed greased ; she 
 let fall almost everything she touched, and when 
 her mistress scolded she filled the house with the 
 vilest English and the most stupid excuses 
 Eleanor had ever heard. Mrs. Haxwell, too, 
 made up for lost time by screaming at Polly, be- 
 rating Jake, shrieking the most unmelodious 
 "hymn tunes," as she called them, and rattling 
 and banging among the furniture and cooking 
 utensils at a rate that would have disgraced Polly 
 herself, and every meal seemed to be worse than 
 any of its predecessors. 
 
 Eleanor despaired. She could not endure this 
 state of affairs any longer. So on Saturday morn- 
 ing she handed Mr. Cogburn her resignation, and 
 requested that it be acted upon at once. That 
 ferret-eyed person hummed and "aha'd" a good 
 deal, but ended by promising to communicate 
 with his brother trustees during the day. 
 
 About three o'clock in the afternoon, when she 
 had risen from a vain effort to sleep, Mrs. Hax- 
 well gave her a note from the chairman, request- 
 ing her presence at the academy at half-past three 
 o'clock. She hastened to comply, though walking 
 with much difficulty. 
 
 There she found the three trustees. Colonel 
 Tomlinson, loftily it is true, yet in a kindly tone, 
 expressed their regret at receiving her communi- 
 cation, and inquired whether they could not, by 
 some steps, prevail upon her to recall her resig- 
 nation. He added that no one besides themselves 
 was acquainted with even the existence of her
 
 THE STRANGER 91 
 
 note. Htmtley assented to all the Colonel said, 
 and looked searchingly at Mr. Cogburn. That 
 gentleman cleared his throat and indulged in two 
 or three gutturals and aspirates. 
 
 "Come, Cogburn," said Huntley, rather 
 sharply, "speak out, if you have anything to say." 
 
 Cogburn glanced at the stern face before him, 
 and then said, "Well, I did tell my wife. But she 
 won't talk about it." 
 
 "Mr. Cogburn," said the Colonel, with empha- 
 sis, "there are only three members of this board, 
 and it has been understood among us that no 
 member shall mention anything that is before the 
 board until either it is disposed of or the board 
 agrees to make it public." 
 
 "Well," returned Cogburn, "I suppose no harm 
 can come of it. She won't talk." 
 
 "I wish as much could be said of her husband," 
 said Huntley, coldly. 
 
 Eleanor interposed. "You have my resignation 
 and I must be frank with you. You gentlemen 
 have been kind to me; and I have no complaint 
 of patrons or of pupils of the school. But I am ill. 
 I cannot fulfill your wishes or my duty. I must 
 abandon the undertaking. You know of the fail- 
 ure of my health; I need not mention more. My 
 physician says again to-day that I must either go 
 home or to your burial ground." 
 
 Colonel Tomlinson clasped and unclasped his 
 hands as he looked on the pale, thin face of the 
 teacher. Cogburn blinked and moved uneasily in 
 his chair. Huntley put his hand to his brow and 
 looked upon the floor. 
 
 "I regret that I have proved a disappointment
 
 92 THE STRANGER 
 
 to you," continued Eleanor, after a brief pause, 
 "and I shall insist on returning the salary I have 
 received as well as foregoing any now due. 
 But 
 
 "I beg your pardon," interrupted the Colonel, 
 with some emotion, "but you must not mention 
 such things to us. We won't hear them." 
 
 "Certainly not," agreed Huntley, gravely. 
 
 "But I must go," added Eleanor. 
 
 "Might I take the liberty to inquire," said the 
 Colonel, "if your present residence has anything 
 to do with your purpose to resign?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Eleanor, glancing toward the 
 member who had told his wife. "Yes," said she. 
 repeating the word. "To be plain, my health and, 
 to some extent, my peace of mind have been 
 ruined by the food and the noise and manners at 
 my lodging-place. I admit that I should not have 
 succumbed, at least so soon, if these had been my 
 only troubles. But these have caused me to break 
 down under what I might otherwise have borne. 
 I say nothing against Mrs. Haxwell, but " 
 
 "We understand," put in Huntley. "The single 
 point is, that your health has failed under the 
 fare you have, as your physician has announced 
 professionally, and you therefore conclude to 
 give up the school. But if your resignation is 
 based wholly upon this fact, I presume a change 
 of boarding-place might enable you to continue 
 at least until the experiment is fully tried. Am I 
 right?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Eleanor, though rather reluc- 
 tantly. "But I do not know where I am to go. 
 I could have lived pretty well at the hotel, but my
 
 THE STRANGER 93 
 
 salary did not justify paying the rate charged 
 there. Mrs. Haxwell's seemed to be the only 
 other place. May I ask if you can tell we where 
 I can be accommodated." 
 
 "No," returned Huntley; "but if it is once 
 understood that you are willing to make a further 
 trial, on changing your place of board, we should 
 use our efforts to secure a new place for you; 
 for I, and all of us, take it for granted that you 
 would not traverse the village on a from-door-to- 
 door expedition, in search of board." 
 
 "I agree fully with Mr. Huntley," said the 
 chairman sententiously, "I should myself do my 
 best for you." 
 
 Mr. Cogburn was rather obstinate. "I don't 
 know where to look. I think Mrs. Haxwell's a 
 good enough place." 
 
 "Mr. Cogburn," said Huntley, "are you aware 
 that George Washington Haxwell, the husband 
 of that lady, died of chronic dyspepsia? And do 
 you forget that very soon after his death Dr. 
 Thompson took the trouble to deliver a free pub- 
 lic lecture on dietetics, inveighing against tough, 
 heavy biscuits, raw corn bread, fried bacon and 
 green collards, and referring so emphatically to 
 even carpenters being murdered by such food, 
 that many persons jokingly termed his lecture 
 G. W. Haxwell's funeral sermon?" 
 
 "A carpenter can have dyspepsia, I suppose," 
 retorted Mr. Cogburn. 
 
 "Yes, and so can a farmer, but I tell you that 
 child Minnie, young sparrow as she is, is dys- 
 peptic, if Dr. Thompson is any authority. Mrs. 
 Haxwell, who was a very robust woman, a few
 
 94 THE STRANGER 
 
 years ago, when she married and moved into the 
 village, is complaining day and night of 'yaller 
 janders,' 'neuralzy,' headaches and almost every- 
 thing that follows unwholesome diet. In my 
 opinion that bumpkin Jake has before him the 
 fate to make the test whether any man, woman, 
 or child can eat his aunt's cooking, and keep well." 
 
 Even Colonel Tomlinson's dignity could not 
 resist these words, delivered as they were in the 
 most solemn manner. Eleanor laughed outright. 
 
 "Well, I don't know where to go," persisted 
 Mr. Cogburn. "Mrs. Maxwell's would be good 
 enough for me." 
 
 "Perhaps it would," returned Huntley, dryly. 
 "I am quite willing to admit that to be true. But 
 you need have no trouble about this matter." 
 
 Then he moved that Miss Field's resignation be 
 not accepted, but that she be requested to con- 
 tinue in her office. The motion was put and car- 
 ried unanimously that is, without dissent. 
 
 When the trustees rose to go, the Colonel told 
 her that she might expect to hear from him or 
 Mr. Huntley in the course of the afternoon cer- 
 tainly by Monday. She desired to thank the lat- 
 ter for his energetic handling of her cause; but 
 his formal bow and hasty departure prevented 
 her. 
 
 Late in the afternoon Colonel Tomlinson came 
 to Mrs. Haxwell's accompanied by a gentleman 
 whom he introduced to Eleanor Field as William 
 Williams, Esq., an attorney at law residing in 
 Cherenden. Mr. Williams was of medium height, 
 but was so exceedingly thin that he appeared 
 taller. He had long sandy-colored hair, slightly
 
 THE STRANGER 95 
 
 sprinkled with gray, his forehead was high and 
 narrow, his eyes were very pale blue and close 
 together, his nose high, arched and sharp, his lips 
 thin and straight, his cheek-bones very prominent, 
 his cheeks hollow, his chin pointed, his complex- 
 ion pale yellow. He stood quite erect, and a ner- 
 vous excitement seemed to pervade his fragile 
 body. The Colonel described him as having been 
 long at the bar, but now retired from active prac- 
 tice, to the h'm great regret of a host of 
 clients and er that of many friends who had 
 determined that he should u'm wear the judic- 
 ial ermine before closing his a a most useful 
 professional career. After giving Mr. Williams 
 time to make his bow, and Eleanor to acknowl- 
 edge his presence and her hearing of the encom- 
 iums pronounced upon him, the Colonel pro- 
 ceeded to inform her that he thought he trusted 
 Mr. Williams's deep interest in the village, and 
 especially in the cause of education, had induced 
 him, and with him his most accomplished and es- 
 timable wife, to consent to receive Miss Field as a 
 lodger and boarder the first thing of the kind 
 which that couple had ever been persuaded to 
 do." 
 
 "The very first time," repeated Mr. Williams, 
 with great precision and emphasis, "that we have 
 been prevailed upon to receive a boarder." 
 
 Colonel Tomlinson, with deliberation and unc- 
 tion, proceeded,to state that he had not had the 
 resolution to apply heretofore, even in behalf of 
 close personal friends, for such a favor; but that 
 the present crisis in the educational affairs of the 
 town and of the surrounding country had become
 
 96 THE STRANGER 
 
 so grave as to impel him to entreat William Wil- 
 liams, Esq., to assist the school authorities as no 
 one else could. He went on to say that Mr. Wil- 
 liams did not encourage him, and that at one 
 time he had about abandoned all hope, when Mrs. 
 Williams's woman's heart became touched, and 
 she protested that they ought to yield. A most 
 tender-hearted and zealously public-minded lady 
 Mrs. Williams had always been. 
 
 "And self-sacrificing," supplemented William 
 Williams. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said the Colonel. "The self- 
 sacrifices of that accomplished lady are part of 
 the history of our community. , Though I must 
 say, that when she insisted on foregoing the pleas- 
 ures of having her husband on the bench I could 
 not at all agree with her." 
 
 "My health, you know, Colonel," suggested 
 Mr. Williams, sadly. 
 
 "I know; but what other woman in the world, 
 with Mrs. Williams's proud and confident expec- 
 tations, would have stopped to think of dyspepsia 
 in connection with an office which would have 
 crowned a life of great distinction and usefulness, 
 and enabled her husband to transmit to posterity 
 the most vital principles of er er jurispru- 
 dence." 
 
 There was a long pause, which Mr. Williams 
 spent in apparently melancholy reverie, and the 
 Colonel in stern protest. Then the latter spoke: 
 
 "Mr Williams is dyspeptic ; Mrs. Williams is 
 dyspeptic; they have no child or other person in 
 the house. The cooking is done by an aged 
 woman, who formerly belonged to Mr. Williams,
 
 THE STRANGER 97 
 
 and is thoroughly versed in er dyspeptic diet. 
 Well-cooked bread, often stale, tea, milk, eggs, 
 oat-meal, poultry, an occasional bit of mutton, 
 fresh air, pure water, quiet these are the fea- 
 tures of the household and of the housekeeping. 
 The very ideal of a er er dyspeptic life." 
 
 The Colonel, who had never experienced five 
 minutes of indigestion since he was born, im- 
 agined that dyspepsia was a peculiar state of 
 mind as well as of body, and that it had to be 
 treated very much as religious sentiment, fond- 
 ness for poetry and meditation, or many other 
 frames of mind or peculiarities of sentiment. But 
 his account served to put Eleanor into possession 
 of some items which were most pleasing to her. 
 Here were two well-bred old people, evidently 
 poor, yet regardful of their dignity, who con- 
 sented to take her to their quiet home and who 
 could be expected to give her no fried bacon, or 
 raw bread, and she was rather moved as she 
 looked on the old, withered face of the broken- 
 down lawyer, and the emaciated figure clothed in 
 rusty black. She could imagine a faded wife at 
 home, bearing with gentleness all the nervous 
 uneasiness of her husband and all her own poverty 
 and disappointment, and ready now to avail her- 
 self of the small assistance to be derived from a 
 stranger's payment for board. But she saw that 
 there was no lack of pride in this unsuccessful 
 man. She therefore expressed herself much 
 pleased that Mr. and Mrs. Williams had con- 
 sented to receive her, and also said that she hoped 
 she would give them no cause to regret their 
 7
 
 98 THE STRANGER 
 
 kindness. These things were spoken so feelingly 
 by her, that the old lawyer went to her and took 
 her hand very gallantly and respectfully he did 
 it, too and declared that he knew that they three 
 would dwell most er ah amicably and con- 
 tentedly together. 
 
 It was soon arranged that she should pay the 
 same rate as at Mrs. Haxwell's; and as this was 
 within two or three days of the end of the month 
 and the last day of the week, it was also agreed 
 that she should move this afternoon. While the 
 Colonel retired, following Mr. Williams out of 
 the room, he whispered to Eleanor, "Give me 
 five dollars to give Mr. Williams, if you have it, 
 to purchase some supplies. If you have not the 
 money, I will advance it to him. He is very poor." 
 Eleanor smuggled a note into the chairman's 
 hand, and went to pack her luggage for removal. 
 
 Mrs. Haxwell soon entered Eleanor's room. 
 
 " 'Pears like you was fixin' to go somewheres," 
 cried she, standing in the door with her hands on 
 her hips. Mrs. Haxwell was never handsome; 
 now she was positively ugly. 
 
 "I am," returned Eleanor. "Will you take a 
 seat and hear me for a minute or two?" 
 
 "I reckon I kin hear 'bout as well whar I am." 
 
 "Very well," said Eleanor, quietly. "I found 
 my health failing fast. I was satisfied that I could 
 not work unless I had some change. I therefore 
 tendered my resignation to the trustees, expect- 
 ing to go home. The trustees refused to accept 
 my resignation, and requested me to make an- 
 other effort. They proposed to secure me lodg- 
 ings where they thought my health would be bet-
 
 THE STRANGER 99 
 
 ter than it has been. You have been kind to me, 
 and I thank you for it. I have made no complaint 
 of you; and I make none now. If my resignation 
 had been accepted, as I hoped it would be, and as 
 I wish it had been, I should have quitted this 
 town on Monday. The trustees think I ought to 
 remain. I consent to do so, for a little while at 
 least. I sought you as soon as I came from the 
 meeting; but you were not at home, and I in- 
 structed Polly to ask you to come here as soon as 
 you returned. I propose to pay you a full month's 
 board, though several days are yet lacking. Mrs. 
 Haxwell, it was a fearful strait in which I found 
 myself. You surely will not think hard of me." 
 
 "But you never give me no notice," protested 
 the woman angrily. 
 
 "What notice did law or courtesy require me to 
 give?" inquired Eleanor, good-naturedly. "But 
 do not let that annoy you. If you think that 1 
 ought to have given you a month's notice, I will 
 cheerfully pay you for another month's board, and 
 at the same time let you rent this room or take 
 any lodger you desire." 
 
 "I ain't a-talkin' 'bout no money," retorted 
 Mrs. Haxwell. "You don't hurt my pocket by 
 goin' away, but you hurt my feelin's." 
 
 "I am truly sorry, Mrs. Haxwell," said Eleanor. 
 "But I have tried to show you how it all hap- 
 pened, and I think I have shown you how ready 
 I am to make any reparation in my power." 
 
 "The long and short of it all is that my board 
 and lodgin's don't suit you," said the landlady. 
 Eleanor remained silent, though she packed with 
 increased energy.
 
 ioo THE STRANGER 
 
 "An' you've got tired of the only place whar 
 you was made welcome, an' you're a-goin' to live 
 among the lawyer fani'lies." 
 
 Still Eleanor made no answer. 
 
 "An' it's a mighty fine time you'll have with 
 Squire Williams an' his old wife. 'Spepsy is one 
 thing, and starvin' is another. Them what loves 
 to starve, let 'em starve. Starvin's mighty rusti- 
 cratic I s'pose," and she tossed her head and 
 made hideous faces. 
 
 Eleanor said nothing. 
 
 "An' it's good s'ciety you're after too, I s'pose. 
 Old Widder Hax'll ain't choice enough for the 
 likes of you bein' as how you come from the 
 Nawth. Oh yes ! Oh my ! Good s'ciety is what 
 Yankees has to have." 
 
 Eleanor now went to the woman and said : 
 "Mrs. Haxwell, I have borne just as much of your 
 reproach as I think it my duty to bear. If you 
 have nothing better to say, I must close the door 
 upon you !" and she fixed upon the angry woman 
 a look of such rebuke and decision that the latter 
 shrank back into the hall. This was not the end 
 of the tirade, however, for Mrs. Haxwell could 
 be heard, for minutes, berating "Yankee women," 
 "Yankee airs," and the "Yankees what was doin' 
 well to go to starvation houses," and the like, 
 which ultimately culminated in her screaming out 
 that Polly was "nothin' but a good-fer-nothin ? 
 Yankee nigger!" The clamor ceased after a time, 
 and Eleanor experienced much relief, for, truth 
 to say, she had been positively alarmed by the 
 frantic voice and gesticulation of the woman. She 
 reckoned without her host or hostess however,
 
 THE STRANGER 101 
 
 when she fancied that the war was over. It only 
 needed a small provocation to be renewed with 
 full vigor. This little Minnie furnished when she 
 came and tapped at Eleanor's door. 
 
 "You git away from that door, Minnie Hax- 
 well!" shrieked the mother. "Is you a born fool? 
 Don't you know you ain't good enough to 'so- 
 ciate with Yankee quality?" 
 
 "Mr. Williams told me to tell Miss Eleanor that 
 he would come here directly with a dray, for her 
 and her things," returned Minnie in a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 "He oughter fetch two waggins for her things 
 and 'bout three carriages fer herself," mockingly 
 cried the mother. "But my child ain't fitten to 
 go anigh sich quality. So you come here to your 
 old mother. He, he, he!" The landlady was 
 hysterical now; but not more so than Eleanor, 
 whose nervous system was quite unequal to such 
 a contest. Therefore she hailed the intelligence 
 which promised deliverance from the siege, her 
 escape having become somewhat problematical of 
 late. Just and kind-hearted as she was, she suf- 
 fered more and more as the matter proceeded, 
 for she gradually grew to fear that she had given 
 substantial cause for the woman's resentment. 
 The woman was stupid and rude ; but she had 
 been as courteous to her lodger as she was 
 capable of being, and Eleanor reflected, that the 
 sensitiveness of people is usually in inverse ratio 
 to their attainments and social standing, and 
 therefore that it is more unkind to affront a 
 humble person than a great one. She owed Mrs. 
 Haxwell nothing. She had paid fcr a good deal
 
 io2 THE STRANGER 
 
 more than she had received, and she was ready to 
 pay, as she had said, for what she would certainly 
 never receive; but she had to admit that her leave- 
 taking was very sudden, and that it implied no 
 great consideration for Mrs. Maxwell's arrange- 
 ments or for her feelings. She could hardly have 
 done otherwise, unhappy, friendless stranger that 
 she was, with a body racked with pain and a heart 
 worn down with misery. 
 
 The situation was relieved of much of its em- 
 barrassment by the coming of Mr. Williams. She 
 heard his shrill voice in the hall just as she fin- 
 ished packing, and began to brace herself for the 
 final interview with her landlady; and she went at 
 once to meet him. He informed her that a cart 
 was at the door. Then he called the two men in 
 charge of the conveyance, and bade them bring 
 out Miss Field's luggage. Mrs. Haxwell stood 
 by, her face scornful, her hands grasping her hips, 
 her whole figure rigidly warlike. Mr. Williams 
 paid no heed to her until Eleanor's effects had 
 been put into the cart. 
 
 "Have you settled with Mrs. Haxwell?" he 
 then inquired of Eleanor. 
 
 Eleanor advanced to her hostess, saying, as she 
 opened her porte-monnaie : 
 
 "How much is the bill, Mrs. Haxwell?" 
 
 "Oh, just as you please," answered the dame 
 with a sarcastic smirk. 
 
 "It is just as you please," said Eleanor quietly. 
 "My month is not quite out; but I ought not to 
 pay you for less, and will not. If you think you 
 ought to have had notice, I desire to pay you for 
 the additional time to cover the period for which
 
 THE STRANGER 103 
 
 notice should have been given a fortnight or a 
 month." 
 
 "It ain't my practice to charge people for what 
 they don't git," responded Mrs. Haxwell "what- 
 ever folks in other parts does." 
 
 Mr. Williams now put in his oar. "Mrs. Hax- 
 well," said he, "I understand that your rate has 
 been fifteen dollars per month. The law of this 
 State requires no special notice of quitting on 
 the part of a lodger from month to month, unless 
 there be a previous contract to such effect, or un- 
 less arrangements between the parties imply or 
 necessarily involve a mutual compact embracing 
 notice or a responsibility for loss that may be oc- 
 casioned by a sudden termination of the relations 
 of landlord and tenant, or landlord and guest, as 
 the case may be." Mr. Williams was on his own 
 ground now, and spoke with confidence and unc- 
 tion. 
 
 "You know the law, Squire," returned Mrs. 
 Haxwell, somewhat meekly. 
 
 "I should think I did know it," returned Mr. 
 Williams, loftily, "after forty years' study and 
 practice. Mrs. Haxwell permit me, Miss Field," 
 taking Eleanor's roll of money "I hereby tender 
 you fifteen dollars, in full payment for Miss Field's 
 board and lodging for the current month which 
 will terminate in a few days. I understand that 
 you demand no more." 
 
 "I ain't demanded nothing" returned Mrs. Hax- 
 well, sullenly. 
 
 "Very well then," pursued the Squire, fixing 
 the landlady with the long index finger of his 
 right hand. "Gentlemen I beg pardon ladies
 
 104 THE STRANGER 
 
 forensic habit hard to get out of those things. 
 We now see that Mrs. Haxwell demands no more. 
 The witness there's that old habit again! Mrs. 
 Haxwell does not profess to require anything ad- 
 ditional." 
 
 "I ain't a-goin' to tech none o' that money," 
 said Mrs. Haxwell. 
 
 "Then," said the Squire, "we lay it on the table 
 before her. Now, Miss Field, we are free to go," 
 and then he placed the money on the table. 
 Eleanor advanced to the woman, but was shown 
 her back. 
 
 "I am sorry to offend you," said she gently. 
 "Let us part friends." But no response came 
 from the reversed figure. 
 
 "Good-by, Minnie," said the teacher, moving 
 toward the child, who stood at her mother's side. 
 She would have kissed the little one ; and Minnie 
 gazed at her tearfully and affectionately. But 
 the moment the teacher touched the child's 
 shoulder the mother snatched her away, scream- 
 ing out: 
 
 "Come away, you Minnie ! That Yankee is too 
 good fer the likes of me and you !" 
 
 So Eleanor walked out with the lawyer, leaving 
 the angry woman, her child and the money in the 
 hall. The lawyer stepped along briskly and spoke 
 cheerfully. He had, as he thought, just defended 
 a client from ill treatment, and vindicated the wis- 
 dom and justice of the law. He made such feeling 
 manifest by declaring, five minutes after they left 
 the door, that he would greatly like "to get just 
 one lick at that woman and her absurd pretensions 
 in a court of justice."
 
 THE STRANGER 105 
 
 At the lawyer's house they found his faded wife, 
 who made Eleanor as welcome as an absolutely 
 colorless person could well do. The old lady 
 showed her to an upper room, very large, with 
 four great windows, furnished with a very faded 
 and much-patched carpet, faded furniture, faded 
 curtains, faded bed-quilts everything old, and 
 faded, and melancholy. But there was quiet there. 
 No children clamored, no animal raised a voice, 
 the very evening breeze seemed to steal by on tip- 
 toe. The place was very tidy ; the fare was delicate 
 and negative toast, weak tea, milk, cold bread 
 and butter ; the service was noiselessly performed 
 by a withered brown woman ; the conversation 
 of the old couple was dull; but everything wore 
 the air of retirement from activity and from con- 
 flict except with slow and steady age and pov- 
 erty, and therefore spoke of rest and quiet 
 thought. And when the sorely tried stranger went 
 to sleep that night she felt herself glide into a 
 dreamland of repose such as she had not known 
 since leaving her New England home.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Eleanor Field's life in the "dyspeptic house- 
 hold," as Colonel Tomlinson termed it, was not 
 one of absolutely unalloyed pleasure, but it was 
 a great improvement on that she had led at Mrs. 
 Maxwell's. The Williamses were fairly educated, 
 and they were refined. The Squire was nervous, 
 conceited, somewhat eccentric, and excessively vain, 
 but he was most deferential to Eleanor at all 
 times. When she or his wife entered a room he 
 invariably rose and remained standing till the 
 newcomer was seated; he never permitted either 
 one of them to move a chair without his assist- 
 ance, and he always attempted to take the wood 
 out of their hands when they sought to replenish 
 the open fire. Eleanor found a fire in her room 
 every evening, which, she ascertained later, was 
 usually built, or at least lighted, by the old law- 
 yer himself. So when he ranted against the Fed- 
 eral Government, snarled over the war, or pa- 
 raded the Southern aristocracy, she was quite 
 ready to endure, especially after hearing from 
 Colonel Tomlinson that he had, in consequence 
 of the war, lost a valuable slave property and be- 
 come impoverished by debt. 
 
 Mrs. Williams was not communicative for 
 some time, and she carried in her face a sort of 
 reproach of all persons in any wise contributing, 
 directly or through others, to her ill fortune; and 
 it was plain that she regarded the people of the 
 North a unit in all such things. But she was al-
 
 THE STRANGER 107 
 
 ways dignified, always courteous to Eleanor, and 
 solicitous of her comfort. She had none of the 
 Squire's vivacity either of thought or of man- 
 ner, being calm, quiet, sad, thoughtful and self- 
 restrained. Mind, and heart, and life seemed to 
 have faded as much as her pale complexion and 
 her withered hands small, shapely hands, by 
 the way, with tapering fingers, smooth skin, 
 and polished, pink nails, which when folded on 
 her lap seemed to make mute appeal to every be- 
 holder against the hard fortune of the times. 
 
 Her hands, especially her nails, reminded 
 Eleanor so forcibly of the hands and nails of Mar- 
 garet Mason as they had appeared by the lamp- 
 light on the night Margaret spent with her, that, 
 a few days after she went there to live, she 
 mentioned it. Mrs. Williams smiled, and answered 
 that it was not strange that there should be a re- 
 semblance between them, inasmuch as Margaret 
 Mason's father was her first cousin. 
 
 "I am so glad to hear it!" exclaimed Eleanor. 
 "1 can now have some one to listen while I speak 
 praises of her beauty and intelligence, her refine- 
 ment and goodness." 
 
 "You could scarcely find any one more ready to 
 hear Margaret praised than I am," returned the 
 old lady earnestly. "I have loved her as I would 
 have loved my own daughter; and to me she is 
 the very dearest woman in the world." 
 
 "I wish I had some way to let her know fully 
 how grateful I am for her kindness," cried 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "You do not need to tell her more," returned 
 Mrs. Williams. "She has said enough to me to
 
 io8 THE STRANGER 
 
 show that she only fears you overestimate her at- 
 tention to you." 
 
 "I cannot well do that," said Eleanor. "Al- 
 though perhaps, while sleeping, I did so; for in 
 my dreams that night and the next there appeared 
 to me several times an angel of beauty and sym- 
 pathy, and that angel always had the face of Mar- 
 garet Mason" and Eleanor shed tears of grate- 
 ful emotion as she recalled those lovely visions. 
 
 "God bless you and her!" replied the old lady 
 as she wiped her eyes and walked away. 
 
 The school went on pretty much as before 
 Eleanor's illness. Minnie Haxwell quit coming, 
 but Jake came, looking somewhat confused, and, 
 for him, wonderfully thoughtful. He did not en- 
 gage in a single fight for eight or ten days, and 
 when he did the dther boy was the aggressor. He 
 began to recite pretty well for Jake. Now he 
 scarcely ever missed more than two or three 
 words in his "spelling," he could answer most of 
 the questions in geography, and there were sel- 
 dom more than one or two mistakes in his "sums." 
 Grammar remained a profound mystery to him, of 
 course, for people require to be partly civilized in 
 order to have a conception of that arbitrary 
 science, and the difficulties in his way may be 
 readily imagined from his saying, as he did to his 
 teacher when reproved for appropriating a slate 
 pencil which was the subject of controversy be- 
 tween another boy and a girl, " 'Tain't his'n nor 
 her'n nuther, but they is jis' a-squawlin' to have 
 they fun." However, he was on the mend, and his 
 deportment improved decidedly. The other pupils 
 made progress as rapidly as Eleanor had expected,
 
 THE STRANGER 109 
 
 indeed more so, after a few weeks spent in un- 
 teaching erroneous notions they had imbibed, and 
 in starting them under a new system. It was not 
 easy work for her, and she seldom came from the 
 academy without a feeling of exhaustion. Still, 
 that exhaustion was rather of an intellectual char- 
 acter than of a nervous one, and left her sooner, 
 and was less distressing while it lasted, than was 
 the weariness and worry of spirit which followed 
 the bad behavior and inattention of children. 
 
 A goodly proportion of the scholars gradually 
 but steadily came under her influence the boys 
 sooner than the girls, for the proud, self-sufficient 
 little fellows had a vein of chivalry which forbade 
 them to do unmanly things ; but a few of each 
 sex remained obdurate for several weeks. At last 
 one of them, a girl of thirteen years and daughter 
 of a prominent merchant in the village, remained 
 on the play-ground after recess and after being 
 called to, and then sauntered leisurely to the class 
 bench in the midst of the recitation. Eleanor in- 
 quired what had prevented her from coming 
 sooner. She replied, "Oh, nothing," with a toss 
 of her head. 
 
 "Then," said Eleanor, "you had best continue 
 your holiday, and go home." 
 
 The girl stared at her. 
 
 "I tell you to take your books and go home," 
 said Eleanor, sternly. The girl stood a moment 
 as if to study the resolute brown eye that con- 
 fronted her, and then went. Jake forgot all dis- 
 cipline, and expressed his pleasure at being rid 
 of "that stuck-up varmint, Sally Mufkins" and 
 had to be silenced, and kept in after school for his
 
 i io THE STRANGER 
 
 misbehavior. Sally never returned, and the school 
 was perceptibly benefited by her absence. 
 
 The following day Eleanor received through 
 the post a note, in execrable English, from Sally's 
 mother, which asserted that "forriners" could not 
 "apreciate" the feelings of young Southern ladies, 
 and promised that "people" would not endure 
 such "tirrany" much longer from "them as lives 
 on the people's bread" ; but she put the note into 
 the fire and said nothing. No one mentioned the 
 matter to her again. 
 
 It was now the month of April. Whatever the 
 springtime may be to persons in ordinary cir- 
 cumstances, it is often the saddest season of the 
 year to one suffering under mental afflictions. So 
 it was with Eleanor Field, and she was unable to 
 account fully for her state of feeling. She was 
 now comfortably located. The house was pleas- 
 ant, the household agreeable, her material com- 
 forts were as well supplied as she could demand. 
 She had lighter work as the work progressed, 
 her health was decidedly improved. There were 
 the means of healthful and agreeable exercise 
 around her in the lanes and shady forests. She 
 was a little less lonely than formerly, for she had 
 received at least the consideration of an intelli- 
 gent and refined family. Yet there was the de- 
 pression, which seemed to increase daily. The 
 octopus of ostracism was daily grasping her with 
 a fresh tentacle, and reason was worth little in 
 contending against it. All of us who have been 
 boys or girls and most of us have, in spite of the 
 tendency of these times to produce full-grown 
 men and women have experienced the misery
 
 THE STRANGER in 
 
 which comes from confinement. Eleanor Field 
 ought to have understood that this opposition to 
 restraint or constraint is a natural human trait 
 and, understanding it, ought to have made a phil- 
 osophic allowance for its blind and irrational ope- 
 ration on her mind. But she had been reared to 
 such freedom of action and such welcome among 
 the people about her that she could not recognize 
 in her restiveness over her separation from those 
 now about her a natural, but foolish, desire for a 
 thing simply because it was out of reach. 
 
 She would not have enjoyed the society of 
 twenty people in the village, perhaps, and, as she 
 saw them, she herself thought that she would not 
 have cared a great deal to be with all of that 
 twenty. With the majority of the giggling girls 
 and awkward young men of the place she could 
 never have had any sympathy, to say nothing of 
 pleasure. And certainly most of them appeared 
 never to see her, and those who did see her looked 
 at her without any sign of feeling. But what was 
 the trouble. She knew that they ought to be 
 nothing more to her than she was to them, and 
 her sense of superior intelligence and superior 
 education to at least the majority of them some- 
 times suggested to her that she was well clear 
 of them. But even these remonstrances and argu- 
 ments availed nothing against what she knew to 
 be a mere sentiment. 
 
 The philosopher who knows all about the hu- 
 man constitution will readily dispose of the matter 
 by saying that man is a gregarious animal, and 
 therefore he must suffer from deprivation of the 
 society of his fellows. But such a philosopher
 
 ii2 THE STRANGER 
 
 ought to remember that any decent man or 
 woman is very happy to be rid of the society of 
 inferior persons, and that the majority of philoso- 
 phers rarely care for association with any but a 
 very small number of their brethren. Indeed, not 
 only philosophers, but most of the ignorant snobs 
 who have riches or titles that they do not deserve, 
 take a good deal of trouble to keep out of the 
 way of humanity at large. 
 
 The philosopher's solution of the question, 
 though partly correct, is not sufficient; the prin- 
 cipal cause of the distress in such cases is that 
 what we have or can easily obtain is of no great 
 moment to us, but all that seems to be beyond our 
 reach and all the more for being just beyond it 
 seems to us a prize of inestimable importance. 
 And those who are free from such influence are 
 either very much above or very much below the 
 rest of their kind. 
 
 Eleanor received letters frequently from her 
 family on an average one a week from her 
 mother, one every ten or twelve days from Julia, 
 and one every three or four weeks from Tom. All 
 of these were more or less efforts to make her 
 cheerful in her new occupation and location, for 
 even Julia concealed from her all troubles at home 
 and all apprehensions for her safety or welfare. 
 The misfortune was that they were too careful 
 and guarded. There was evidently an under- 
 standing among the home people, if not a posi- 
 tive arrangement, to write everything pleasant 
 and exclude everything disagreeable. Still, after 
 making large allowances, as Eleanor soon learned 
 to do, she was much comforted and
 
 THE STRANGER 113 
 
 strengthened by the correspondence. The 
 mother broke down once on the receipt of Mar- 
 garet Mason's letter describing the teacher's ill- 
 ness and clamored for her daughter's return. 
 But on the daughter's recovery she not only was 
 as well satisfied as before the sickness, but al- 
 lowed herself to believe, and to write, that a 
 brighter prospect than ever was opened by 
 Eleanor's acquisition of the amiable and accom- 
 plished friend her sickness appeared to have 
 brought her. Eleanor never informed her that 
 her recovery lost her the friend sickness had 
 gained her. 
 
 Margaret Mason was the one person whose ac- 
 tions confused Eleanor. All the others about her 
 were entirely consistent in their course of action; 
 the people at the hotel showed her such atten- 
 tions as their duty to a respectable female guest 
 seemed to demand; Mrs. Haxwell was consid- 
 erate so far and so long as her pecuniary interests 
 suggested; the Williamses received her in order 
 to supplement their small means with the money 
 derived from her board, and could scarcely be 
 said to have exceeded the demands of ordinary 
 hospitality to the stranger within their gates ; the 
 school trustees had given her the support which 
 the proper discipline and management of the 
 school required, and in their bearing toward her 
 had conducted themselves only as their sense of 
 their own dignity dictated; her pupils obeyed 
 her and treated her with respect. But all of these 
 had extended to her only official or business 
 courtesies, and had never given her any social or
 
 ii4 THE STRANGER 
 
 personal recognition whatever. Margaret Mason, 
 on the contrary, had had no business connection 
 with her, and had met her only by her own seek- 
 ing, and, coming to her voluntarily, had nursed her 
 tenderly and supplied her needs bountifully. Yet 
 she had gone away suddenly, and had never since 
 come to her or communicated with her. Perhaps 
 her kindness had been prompted by mere human- 
 ity; perhaps she had been actuated by the sense 
 of duty which leads a surgeon to render assist- 
 ance to a beggar who has been run over by a rail- 
 way car, or by the small, cold charity which 
 throws a bone to a starving dog. But Eleanor 
 Field recalled her thoughtfulness and gentleness, 
 as different from the manner of the professional 
 alms-giver as it was from that of the professional 
 nurse. And she particularly recalled and always 
 with tears how the stately Southerner had called 
 her "dear," and how she had kissed her aching 
 forehead. Such actions on the part of an intelli- 
 gent, accomplished and self-possessed woman in- 
 dicated a personal interest widely separated from 
 even the most earnest humanity, and still more 
 distinct from what is generally termed charity. 
 Eleanor had learned to love this beautiful and 
 pure Southern girl, and to feel that with her for 
 her friend and associate she would be supremely 
 indifferent to the coldness, or even the active hos- 
 tility, of all others. Her heart refused to enter- 
 tain for a moment a suggestion of that woman's 
 selfishness, or fickleness, or undue pride ; but her 
 mind was sorely exercised to determine how or 
 why she had lost the one being who had been 
 close to her in this strange land, the one being
 
 THE STRANGER 115 
 
 who had engaged her affections. She argued with 
 herself, she tried all sorts of conjectures and hy- 
 potheses, she strove to teach herself indifference, 
 she labored to banish all thought of the matter; 
 but the matter remained fixed in her mind, and 
 every day, and many times in the same day, beset 
 and harassed her cruelly. And the most reason- 
 able answer, indeed the only one quite intelli- 
 gible, which her mind gave was the one horrible 
 word "ostracism." The word was always in her 
 thought; the thing seemed to be always in the 
 very atmosphere, until it became to her a living 
 existence, a sort of demon spirit pursuing her 
 even in her solitude and driving all of her race to 
 hate and avoid her.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 One afternoon in April, after a long solitary 
 walk in the forest, Eleanor returned to Mr. Wil- 
 liams's, just as the sun went down, pondering as 
 usual her melancholy situation. Walking with 
 her eyes cast on the ground, she failed to discover 
 an equipage at the gate until she reached for the 
 long, heavy latch. She recognized the vehicle as 
 that of Margaret Mason, and would have turned 
 away, for fear of appearing to thrust herself upon 
 its mistress ; but she instantly became aware that 
 several persons on the veranda of the house ob- 
 served her, and at once decided that to return 
 to the street or to walk around the house would 
 indicate a refusal to meet the persons before her 
 or a dread of encountering them. She therefore 
 went forward and ascended the long flight of 
 steps. 
 
 As she neared the top of the steps Margaret 
 came forward; and as she reached the floor that 
 lady extended her hand, saying, "I am glad to see 
 you looking so well," and then shook hands with 
 her cordially, and led her to a chair next to that 
 where she had been sitting. The others of the 
 group were Squire and Mrs. Williams and a large 
 dull-looking countryman shabbily dressed. These 
 three rose as Eleanor and Margaret Mason ap- 
 proached them, the lawyer and his wife bowing 
 to her and bidding her be seated, while the coun- 
 tryman shuffled his broad-brimmed wool hat in his 
 hands and stared at her. Miss Mason introduced
 
 THE STRANGER 117 
 
 him as Mr. Jernigan. Mr. Jernigan bent his body 
 in what he meant for a bow, and continued to 
 stare without moving his lips. Indeed, he was so 
 absorbed in the contemplation of Eleanor's per- 
 son as to forget to resume his seat until both the 
 Squire and his wife reminded him by two several 
 invitations to do so. Even then the stare was 
 kept up, with very few and brief intermissions, 
 until he took his leave, some fifteen or twenty 
 minutes later. The stare was not rude; it was 
 simply one of blank wonder, such as a child would 
 indulge in on its first sight of an elephant or a 
 giraffe. 
 
 "Margaret was wondering, just before you 
 came," said Mrs. Williams to Eleanor, "if she 
 would have to go away without seeing you." 
 
 "It was getting rather late for me to be in the 
 open air," said Margaret; "and I had already 
 waited about an hour for you. Dr. Thompson is 
 very strict with me since my last sickness. For 
 two weeks I was kept in doors, and afterward was 
 allowed only a few minutes walk daily, and that 
 at noon, and in the sun, and on the dry, graveled 
 walks of the flower-garden. To-day I came to 
 the village for the first time in four weeks. 
 
 Eleanor experienced a pang of positive re- 
 morse when she heard this delicate accounting for 
 not visiting her; and as she heard the sweet, clear 
 voice and saw the play of expressions of the re- 
 fined face she wondered how she could have had 
 a thought unfavorable to the lovely womari before 
 her. But she made brave amends by accepting 
 cordially the attention shown. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you again," said she,
 
 n8 THE STRANGER 
 
 "and I am very sorry to hear of your illness. I 
 trust you are quite recovered." 
 
 "I think I am," returned Miss Mason. "I shall, 
 however, require some days of exercise and sun- 
 shine to restore my activity and strength." 
 
 "It is strange that I heard nothing of this," 
 cried Eleanor. "Did you know, Mrs. Williams, 
 that Miss Mason was ill?" 
 
 "No," replied the other. "I heard nothing of 
 it till an hour ago. She and her mother live two 
 miles out of town. No one has been there from 
 here, nor has any one come here from their home. 
 People who knew of it probably omitted to tell 
 me, because they thought I was sure to know." 
 
 "I was not very ill," observed Miss Mason. "I 
 had nothing more than a cold, with a slight cough ; 
 but the physician, knowing that I have weak 
 lungs, thought it necessary to guard against a 
 serious attack by keeping me closely housed." 
 
 Eleanor now observed the peculiar transpar- 
 ency of Margaret's complexion, the remarkable 
 light in her eyes, and the delicacy of her frame, 
 and her recollection of consumption in her own 
 land caused her at once to wonder if this bright 
 intellect, this resolute will, and this fascinating 
 beauty were not maintained at the expense of 
 vital energies. The thought caused her such a 
 shock that, before she was conscious of her action, 
 she laid her hand on Margaret's, and said : 
 
 "I am so grieved that I did not know of your ill- 
 ness. I should have gone to you at once, in the 
 hope to return in some measure the great assist- 
 ance you gave me." 
 
 "You would have been most welcome," returned
 
 THE STRANGER 119 
 
 Margaret, placing her other hand on the teacher's. 
 "But it was well that you did not know. You 
 would have been overworked in nursing me and 
 attending to the duties of your school at the same 
 time. And it would have been exceedingly tire- 
 some for you to sit with one who was forbidden 
 to talk much. But I am permitted to talk now; 
 and if you think you could endure the solitariness 
 of the country for a day or two, I will come or 
 send for you on Friday afternoon, expecting you 
 to remain with me till Sunday afternoon or Mon- 
 day morning, as may suit your convenience." 
 
 Eleanor was dumfounded. Had the millennium 
 arrived? Had the gates of Paradise been flung 
 open to all mankind in an instant? For a moment 
 she stared almost as stupidly as farmer Jernigan. 
 
 Miss Mason saw her embarrassment, and at once 
 relieved her by continuing: 
 
 "You dismiss your school at two o'clock, I be- 
 lieve. Then you have to come home and have 
 your dinner. That will occupy you until three 
 o'clock. After that you will have to pack a little 
 bag or bundle of some sort, and then you may 
 have to straighten yourself a little. Mr. Jernigan, 
 all the ladies have to primp somewhat when they 
 go out, don't they?" 
 
 Mr. Jernigan was thoroughly startled by being 
 so suddenly made a party to the proceeding, and 
 crossed and uncrossed his long legs two or three 
 times, and twisted his great soft hat into all sorts 
 of shapes, before he could find words to answer. 
 
 "Oh, you must answer my question," resumed 
 Miss Mason, laughing. "Don't they, now?" 
 
 "Well," drawled the farmer, "I reckon they do.
 
 120 THE STRANGER 
 
 My pa says as how sister Sar'h Ann would have to 
 primp if she was goin' out fer to set a hen!" 
 
 "I had no idea that Sarah Ann was so particu- 
 lar as that," said Margaret. "But when a young 
 lady is as pretty as she is she does well to make 
 sure of always looking nice. So, Miss Field, you 
 will probably be ready by five o'clock ; and if you 
 say so, the carriage will be here at that hour." 
 
 "It will afford me much pleasure," returned 
 Eleanor. "I shall be ready at that time." 
 
 ''I shall come for you unless I am prevented by 
 something I cannot now foresee. But you are to 
 come, whether I come for you or not. The horses 
 are perfectly safe. That young one 1 told you 
 about is stamping impatiently yonder at the gate ; 
 but he has been right well broken since I saw you. 
 But if you prefer, I will drive a more steady one 
 in his place." 
 
 "I am not afraid of horses," answered Eleanor. 
 "I was reared on a farm, and have ridden and 
 driven spirited horses repeatedly." 
 
 "Now," cried Margaret, brightly, "I am de- 
 lighted to hear that. I am anxious to take some 
 long brisk horseback rides. With that horse and 
 one not yet broken to harness we can have gallops 
 over the country that will be good for both of us." 
 
 While she was speaking a man on horseback 
 cantered up the street, dismounted at the gate, 
 and after throwing the reins over a post, entered 
 the yard. Mrs. Williams remarked that it was 
 William Huntley, and suggested that the presence 
 of the Mason carriage must have brought him in, 
 as he had "loped" past the house a dozen times 
 in the last month or so without once drawing rein.
 
 THE STRANGER 121 
 
 Huntley walked rapidly up the path and mounted 
 the steps. He politely returned the greetings with 
 which he was saluted, but shook hands with no 
 one, and took a chair at a short distance from 
 the others. His first words after bidding all of 
 them good day were addressed to his cousin. 
 
 "I hope you have experienced no unpleasant 
 effect from your coming out, Margaret," said he, 
 eyeing her seriously. 
 
 "There it is!" exclaimed Mrs. Williams. "I 
 thought you did not come to see the rest of us." 
 
 "Well, Aunt Williams," returned he, "there was 
 no need to look after any of the rest of you. But 
 Margaret was supposed by her physician to run 
 some risk in driving in an open carriage even in 
 this mild weather." 
 
 "I feel improved already," responded Margaret, 
 "and I am resolved not to be suffocated by the 
 close air of houses. When Miss Field and I get 
 on horseback as we shall on Friday or Saturday 
 I shall regain all I have lost." 
 
 Huntley looked quickly at the teacher, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 "But," said Margaret, "you did not stop here, 
 William, merely to inquire about my health." 
 
 "N no," returned he, with a slight smile. "To 
 be frank, I observed that young horse in your 
 carriage as you drove past the hotel, and thought 
 I would drive him if you have no objection." 
 
 "What?" cried Mrs. Williams, nervously. "Do 
 you think him unsafe in John's hands?" 
 
 "No, John drives quite as well as I do, but I 
 want to try his pace in harness." 
 
 "That means a break-neck speed from here
 
 122 THE STRANGER 
 
 home, and perhaps a runaway," suggested Mrs. 
 Williams. 
 
 "No one will think us part of a funeral proces- 
 sion," replied Huntley, dryly; "but I expect to 
 land Margaret safe at her mother's gate." 
 
 "I would not let him drive, Margaret. He is 
 not used to the horse, nor the horse to him; and 
 you know how he tries a horse's pace !" 
 
 "Do not be alarmed, Aunt," said Margaret, 
 placidly. "I shall be quite safe. I think both 
 those horses can make pretty fast time; and 
 William will find out if they can. Mamma has 
 given John such positive orders that he refuses to 
 put them to anything like their speed." 
 
 "Well, well," sighed Mrs. Williams, "I don't 
 know which of you is the more reckless with 
 horses." 
 
 "Suppose you take a turn with us," suggested 
 Huntley, jocularly. "It will stir you up as you 
 have not been stirred for many a day." 
 
 "I have no doubt of that," answered that old 
 lady; "but I have no inclination to be 'stirred up,' 
 as you call it." 
 
 "Then we'll go; eh, Margaret?" Said Huntley, 
 "John can ride my horse as far as your gate." 
 
 Then the two cousins bade the others adieu, 
 and started, Margaret turning at the foot of the 
 steps to repeat to Eleanor that she would come 
 or send for her on Friday afternoon, and then 
 following Huntley, who had not waited for her. 
 Again she turned when half-way to the street, and 
 called to farmer Jernigan. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Jernigan!" 
 
 "Yes'm," responded that gentleman briskly.
 
 THE STRANGER 123 
 
 "Tell Sarah Ann to come over as soon as she 
 can find time. I think that lavender dress of hers 
 lacks but a little change of trimming to make it 
 very handsome. Some of the trimming is of the 
 wrong shade of purple, and I want to fix it for her. 
 Tell her I have some braid that is the very thing." 
 
 "I'll tell her," bawled Jernigan. "I know what 
 you says'll be gospel to Sary Ann," and then he 
 laughed at the top of his voice. 
 
 At the gate Huntley mounted the box of the 
 open landau, John the coachman descended, and 
 Margaret took her seat beside her cousin. John 
 experienced some difficulty in getting astride of 
 Huntley's Delta, who reared and plunged furi- 
 ously. 
 
 "Now, John," Eleanor heard Huntley say, not 
 loudly but in very clear tones, "keep in rear of us ; 
 for if you try to pass us, this young horse will try 
 to run, and I shall not be able to get any sort of 
 trotting out of him. Can you hold the mare with 
 that snaffle bit?" 
 
 "I reckon I kin, sir," answered John. 
 
 "I don't want any 'reckoning' about it. I want 
 you to be sure of it." 
 
 "Lord, Mars William !" exclaimed John, "don't 
 you know I gwine to hole on to dis horse long as 
 any bref in my body? I ain't gwine to let her 
 make no 'sturbance to make dat colt run. I ain't 
 gwine to let young Miss get hurt." 
 
 "Very well," cried Huntley. "Here goes!" 
 With that he spoke to his horses and started them 
 slowly. Gradually and constantly the pace was 
 increased as the carriage moved along the broad 
 street, till at the distance of two hundred yards
 
 124 THE STRANGER 
 
 the hard clay rang with the incessant rattle of 
 horses' hoofs, and the carriage seemed to sail like 
 some huge, dark bird skimming the earth in fast- 
 est flight. Soon the equipage rushed into the 
 gloom of the great oaks that bordered and over- 
 hung the way, and was lost to sight; but for some 
 minutes the rapid clatter of hoofs was heard. 
 
 "Confound that wild Jehu!" exclaimed the 
 Squire. "He'd drive the chariot of the sun!" 
 
 "By George!" cried Jernigan, excitedly, "Bill 
 Huntley'll be able to tell adjactly how fur them 
 horses can trot in a minute ef he don't tell how 
 fur they can run when they run away !" 
 
 "Good gracious!" moaned Mrs. Williams. 
 "Margaret's father was killed by a horse; and I 
 have long had a dread that she would go the same 
 way." 
 
 "Don't worry, Miss Williams," protested Jer- 
 nigan. "Bill Huntley is as fine a man with a horse 
 as ever held lines or sot in a saddle. He ain't 
 goin' to let nothin' happen." 
 
 On Eleanor's inquiry of the particulars of the 
 death of Margaret's father, Mrs. Williams said 
 that he was riding a young and very wild horse in a 
 fox-chase, and on account of having two or three 
 jroung hounds in the cry in whose performance 
 ae was interested he persisted in following close 
 upon the dogs through a very hilly and heavily 
 timbered country; that his horse finally bolted 
 while descending a steep hill in the midst of a thick 
 growth of trees, and, in spite of the rider's efforts 
 to guide him, ran at full speed against the roots 
 of an immense upturned tree, which he cleared by 
 a remarkable leap, but on the other side of which
 
 THE STRANGER 125 
 
 was a deep wide hole left by roots at the foot of 
 the tree when it was blown down ; that the horse 
 landed in this hole, breaking- his own neck against 
 the farther edge of it, and throwing the rider 
 against one side of the bank in such a way as to 
 break his spine. Mr. Mason lived to be carried 
 home and treated by such medical skill as could 
 be summoned in the course of a few hours, but 
 died in twelve hours after the accident. Mrs. 
 Williams added that he was just thirty years of 
 age, and that Margaret, his only living child, was 
 but four years of age at the time. Mr. Mason was 
 Mrs. Williams's cousin german, and the narration 
 cost her no little pain, though the unfortunate 
 occurrence took place nearly eighteen years be- 
 fore the time of her describing it. 
 
 Eleanor reproached herself for having caused 
 the gentle lady distress, and hastened to express 
 her regret, earnestly and tearfully, going as she 
 did so to Mrs. Williams, and taking her withered 
 hand in her own. 
 
 "Do not be annoyed," returned that lady, gently 
 stroking Eleanor's hand. "You ought to know 
 that sad history, as Margaret's friend. I would 
 have told you at some time perhaps this even- 
 ing." 
 
 Mr. Jernigan, though perfectly familiar with the 
 facts narrated, was no little moved, and he soon 
 took leave of them, speaking his farewell in a 
 subdued tone, and walking lightly and slowly 
 away. 
 
 The conversation continued to be about Mar- 
 garet Mason, for Mrs. Williams was devoted to 
 her ? and had more or less to say concerning her
 
 ia6 THE STRANGER 
 
 every day of her life, and the Squire was as proud 
 of her as if she had been his own daughter. "You 
 see," said he, every now and then when her merits 
 had been mentioned by himself or another, "that 
 young woman has supplied the place of children 
 to Mrs. Williams and myself, and we have taught 
 her and looked after her just as if she were our 
 own. You have no idea how I used to drill her 
 in Latin and mathematics, and how I exercised 
 her in English classics. She was so bright and 
 ready to learn that she positively absorbed knowl- 
 edge." 
 
 Eleanor had often heard him dilate on Mar- 
 garet's charms of person, mind and character, but 
 she had never heard him refer to Huntley, as she 
 was curious to hear him do, on account of the 
 general belief (in which Mrs. Williams shared) 
 that he would before long marry his cousin Mar- 
 garet. So when Mrs. Williams touched on the 
 matter, as she did in this conversation, Eleanor 
 listened for the Squire's judgment. He did not 
 keep her long in waiting or in doubt. 
 
 "Mrs. Williams," said he, with much precision, 
 "you know my opinion of that young man. I bear 
 him no ill will. On the contrary, I wish him well. 
 But he is a hard-headed, proud, imperious person, 
 who probably neither fears God nor regards man. 
 At all events, he has no sort of reverence for any- 
 thing human, and never has had. He was only 
 sixteen years old when his father died. I read 
 the will to him which / had drawn, mind you 
 a few days after the death. The bulk of the prop- 
 erty was left to William's mother for life, with 
 remainder to William at her death a very wise
 
 THE STRANGER 127 
 
 arrangement, for the estate was sufficient to sup- 
 port both of them handsomely, and Mrs. Huntley 
 was a most intelligent and excellent woman, and 
 dead sure never to marry again. Well, the pro- 
 vision as to the remainder in one of the planta- 
 tions was different from that of the rest of the 
 estate, it being the purpose of General Huntley 
 to keep that plantation entailed in the family. So 
 William asked if he would be absolute owner of 
 that plantation at his mother's death. I started 
 to show him he would not, by first giving him 
 some idea of estates tail and those on condition, 
 when out he bawls, 'Entails and conditions be 
 damned! I want to know the effect of these long 
 winded limitations!' Now what do you think of 
 that?" 
 
 "It was dreadful!" responded Eleanor, in as 
 steady a voice as she could command, for she had 
 more than once been the victim of the Squire's 
 harangues on the limitations of real estate. 
 
 "But, Mr. Williams," cried his wife, "you must 
 not omit to mention that William endeavored to 
 make amends." 
 
 "That is so," said the Squire. "He came to me 
 the next day, and made a fine, manly apology. 
 He had had no opportunity at the time of his rude 
 speech for I had berated him, and he had walked 
 off. With his apology he brought and presented 
 to me a very handsome copy of Shakespeare, in 
 six volumes, which had belonged to his father. 
 And, by the way, he wrote on the fly leaf of each 
 volume the much quoted passage, 'The quality of 
 mercy is not strained, etc.' And, by Jupiter, I 
 don't know to this day whether the rascal meant 
 it for an appeal to my generosity or as a joke. 
 Ha, ha, ha! A precious youngster that was!"
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 At four o'clock Friday afternoon Eleanor was 
 informed by the serving woman that Miss Mason 
 desired to speak with her at the gate. On her 
 going out to her the latter informed her, after 
 apologizing for putting her to the trouble of com- 
 ing to her, that she had some shopping to do that 
 would occupy an hour, and that she would then 
 return for her. At five o'clock the carriage drew 
 up before the gate, and after some five or ten 
 minutes of leave-taking with Mrs. Williams, the 
 Northern woman got into the carrriage, to be 
 driven to a Southern home. 
 
 The conversation between the two consisted 
 principally of inquiries by the stranger and ans- 
 wers from her hostess. One of the first questions 
 was as to the drive three days before, by William 
 Huntley, Eleanor adding that she had felt some- 
 what apprehensive that the great speed so soon 
 after starting would lead to a runaway. 
 
 "I have no doubt Aunt Ellen was quite alarm- 
 ed," replied Margaret, laughing; "and knowing 
 her dread of horses I insisted that William should 
 drive slowly until we were out of sight; but he 
 protested that we must not lose the benefit of the 
 smooth stretch of road that begins just this side 
 of that grove, so off we went, both of the horses 
 responding to his encouragement, and poor John 
 almost exhausted in holding back the mare he 
 rode. We spent three and a half minutes, by my 
 timing, on the first mile, for the colt broke several
 
 THE STRANGER 129 
 
 times, and twice attempted to run; but the second 
 mile, though not as good ground as the first, was 
 made in a few seconds less than three minutes. 
 I lost four or five seconds from a jolt which threw 
 my watch into my lap. William was greatly 
 pleased with the result, and predicts that he will 
 drive the colt, in a light sulky, in less than two- 
 forty, after a little practice. Our landau is too 
 heavy a vehicle, of course, for fast trotting." 
 
 "Did John manage to keep in rear of you?" 
 asked Eleanor, remembering Delta's frantic ef- 
 forts to get away from him. 
 
 "He had a hard time. Once she carried him 
 almost to the heads of our horses, and I thought 
 we were in for a run. But William spoke to her 
 and she turned her head toward him and moder- 
 ated her speed." 
 
 "Did you tell your mother about the drive?" 
 
 "No; but when she saw William on the box, 
 as she did, standing in the piazza, she knew quite 
 as much as she cared to know and perhaps a 
 little more. He drove at a very moderate gait 
 from the time we turned in sight of the house, 
 but mamma was quite sure that the pace before 
 that had been very different. You do not fear 
 horses?" 
 
 "No that is, none that I have yet encountered. 
 I have not ridden or driven thoroughbreds; but 
 I have ridden some pretty wild colts and run- 
 aways." 
 
 "Well," continued Margaret, " you will ride this 
 colt without difficulty you see I am driving him 
 again. When we ride I shall take a younger 
 9
 
 130 THE STRANGER 
 
 one his half-brother who is rather a hard- 
 headed youngster, but yields eventually to my 
 persuasions of one kind and another." 
 
 "I imagine," said Eleanor, smiling, "that some- 
 times your persuasions are of a very positive 
 character." 
 
 "Well," returned Margaret, "the young of all 
 animals require some discipline. But let me show 
 you how this colt moves. If you will stand and 
 hold to the box-seat you can see the horses over 
 it. John, put your horses into a more lively gait. 
 I wish Miss Field to see what we are making of 
 the colt." 
 
 "Miss Margaret," replied John, in some embar- 
 rassment, "yo' ma tole me to be mighty partic'lar 
 sence Mars William been drive dat colt so fast." 
 
 "Very well, John," said Margaret, good-na- 
 turedly, "we'll do nothing violent. But we'll 
 show something of the pace we can make. Drive 
 up before we lose this smooth quarter of a mile, 
 if you think you know how to show off your 
 horses." 
 
 "Mind now," protested John, "it's you as gives 
 de commandment. I ain't 'sponsible. Git up, 
 babies!" Then the pair forged forward in a trot 
 that carried the vehicle humming along the firm, 
 level roadbed. As the ladies stood together in 
 the open landau, steadying themselves by holding 
 the iron railing at the back of the driver's seat, 
 and looking over, they could see perfectly the 
 movement of the horses. The older and heavier 
 of the two animals responded to the order 
 promptly and rushed forward with long strides, 
 carrying almost the whole weight of the vehicle
 
 THE STRANGER 130 
 
 without apparent effort, while the younger and 
 lighter one, though moving less smoothly, 
 stretched his long, lean limbs in a trot that threat- 
 ened to take even his sturdy senior off his feet. 
 John was an expert whip, and he held the pair 
 throughout the quarter at the same fast trot, with- 
 out a break. 
 
 Eleanor was much exhilarated by the rapid dash 
 through the fresh, pure April air, and exclaimed 
 gleefully, "This is the most delightful thing I have 
 experienced since I left home." Margaret 
 smiled. "I thought you would like it," said she 
 "that is, if you were really fond of horses." 
 
 "But you never mentioned the older horse 
 the near one," said Eleanor. "He moves beauti- 
 fully." 
 
 "Yes, Old Trot is perhaps the fastest horse in 
 the county for a mile or so. But Trot is at his 
 best. He will never improve, as he is eight years 
 old. Moreover, he is a plebeian, whose ancestry 
 were all scrubs probably. But the colt is a thor- 
 oughbred, only three and a half years old, and 
 therefore may have a wonderful development." 
 "Do you prefer thoroughbreds for driving?" 
 "No. That is, I do not want running stock. 
 The race-horse blood is generally wild and intract- 
 able, and not seldom vicious in harness. Besides, 
 they are not built for draft. But I think that after 
 a family of horses have been driven for several 
 generations, and have weight enough for draft, 
 they become very fine trotters, generally, and are 
 reasonably docile. William Huntley's mare 
 comes of a strain on the dam's side that has never 
 been fit for harness ; but this colt's kindred, both
 
 132 THE STRANGER 
 
 through his sire and his dam, have done well for 
 three or four generations. His dam, now twelve 
 years of age, who is usually driven with Trot, 
 is one of the swiftest, steadiest, safest horses I 
 know. Her dam, who died just after the war, 
 was a capital draft horse though requiring a 
 steady hand for her driving. I do not recollect 
 the sire or the dam of that mare, as both of them 
 were sold out of the family when I was very 
 young; but my mother tells me that both sire 
 and dam were considered fine draft horses. The 
 other colt we have is of a different strain, on his 
 sire's side being a half-brother to William's mare. 
 I doubt whether he will ever do much in harness. 
 But I mean to try him before long." 
 
 "I believe you love horses even more than I 
 do," said Eleanor. 
 
 "I am certainly very fond of them, as might 
 be expected from my rearing. I cannot remem- 
 ber when I did not ride horseback; and I dis- 
 tinctly recollect driving when I was under six 
 years of age. I had always to ride wherever I 
 went, living two miles from the village and almost 
 half a mile from the nearest neighbor; I had my 
 own pony a beautiful and very intelligent Cana- 
 dian which I often rode without bridle or saddle, 
 guiding him with my hand or whip and control- 
 ling him with my voice; my mother kept fine 
 horses and encouraged me to handle them; and 
 my sympathy with animals gave me great inter- 
 est in those handsomest and, with the exception 
 of dogs, most intelligent of domestic animals." 
 
 They now came in view of a large brick house, 
 with high, sharp gables in front and on the sides,
 
 THE STRANGER 133 
 
 large windows with green shutters, and a piazza. 
 along the whole front, from whose floor rose six 
 white massive columns to the eaves, supporting 
 the roof of the same. The building stood about 
 two hundred feet from the highway, and between 
 it and the road extended a wide yard, in which 
 was a number of tall, long-armed oaks, fresh and 
 green with the half-developed foliage of spring. 
 An open-work brick wall, six feet in height, en- 
 closed the premises, as far as could be seen. A 
 large magnolia tree, almost black in the shadows 
 cast from the oaks by the setting sun, stood on 
 each side of the gate, and there were two rows 
 of dense cedar trees extending from them to the 
 dwelling. 
 
 "How stately and beautiful a home ! And at 
 the same time how simple and home-like!" cried 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "That is our home," said Margaret. 
 
 "And I was never told a word about it," cried 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "Well," returned Margaret, laughing, "we have 
 no guides or guide-books to give our visitors in- 
 formation." 
 
 Having reached the gate, Margaret descended 
 from the carriage, and extended her hand to 
 Eleanor, as if to assist her in alighting, but, in 
 reality, as Eleanor knew, to accentuate her wel- 
 come, and the two women walked to the house. 
 There at the head of the steps stood a middle- 
 aged lady, dressed in black, a colored woman 
 whom Eleanor recognized as her late attendant 
 in her sickness, and, in front of them, a large 
 jet black dog, whose long hair on throat, ears,
 
 134 THE STRANGER 
 
 and legs could be seen, even at some distance, 
 waving in the mild breeze. 
 
 "Well, that colt ain't kill you dis time, anyhow !" 
 exclaimed Jane, the first to speak. 
 
 "No, indeed, Aunt Jane," answered Margaret. 
 "He's a very good horse; you know, and you 
 and mamma ought to give yourselves no uneasi- 
 ness about him." 
 
 On ascending the steps, Margaret kissed her 
 mother and presented Eleanor to her, calling her 
 "My friend, Miss Field, who has consented to try 
 two or three days of country life." Mrs. Mason 
 shook hands cordially with Eleanor, and inquired 
 whether she had enjoyed the behavior of Mar- 
 garet's colt on the way. The serving-woman 
 then advanced to Eleanor, extended her hand, 
 and volunteered the information that the stranger 
 was "mighty welcome." Mrs. Mason laughed. 
 
 "Jane has been very much your friend ever 
 since she waited on you in your sickness. She 
 was curious to see whether you had recovered 
 the beauty that she says she knows is yours when 
 you are well." 
 
 Jane giggled, and admitted the correctness of 
 the statement. 
 
 "Now," said Margaret, as a small negro boy 
 came bringing Eleanor's valise, "Jane will show 
 you your room." 
 
 Jane snatched the valise from the boy, and led 
 the way through the wide hall and up the broad 
 stairs. They went on to a front room, eighteen 
 or twenty feet square to say nothing of a bay 
 window ten feet wide and four feet deep with a 
 ceiling fourteen feet high, and ventilated and
 
 THE STRANGER 135 
 
 lighted by two front windows besides the bow 
 on the side. As the rays of the setting sun 
 struck slanting the front windows and cast a rich, 
 uncertain yellow glow across the room, it seemed 
 to Eleanor that she had never seen an apartment 
 so luxurious and elegant as this wide, lofty 
 chamber with its rich carpeting, its silk-and-lace 
 curtains, its graceful cornices, its delicate fres- 
 coes, its pale-blue walls and ceiling, its great blue- 
 veined marble mantelpiece, and its large, rich 
 mahogany furniture. 
 
 "Here's whar you'll stay," remarked Jane, in 
 business-like tones, setting the baggage on a 
 large marble-topped table in the center of the 
 room. 
 
 "Here's your bath-room and dressing-room," 
 she proceeded, opening a door and disclosing a 
 smaller chamber. She then lighted an oil lamp, 
 and, after showing Eleanor the bell cord, left her 
 with the announcement that tea would be served 
 in half an hour. 
 
 On descending to the ground floor, Eleanor 
 found Mrs. Mason and her daughter sitting on the 
 veranda and she sat down with them. The trees, 
 the shrubbery, and the wide white graveled walks 
 before them reflected the mellow golden glow of 
 sunset, and all the air was scented with the per- 
 fume of hundreds of spring flowers which grew 
 beside the walks and in narrow beds next the 
 house. There was no sound besides their own 
 voices, except the tinkling of distant sheep-bells 
 and the subdued murmur of a gentle breeze that 
 scarcely stirred the leaves of the giant oaks. 
 
 "It is a sweet evening," said Mrs. Mason
 
 136 THE STRANGER 
 
 "one of the kind that makes mere living some- 
 thing of a luxury." 
 
 "Yes," said Margaret. "If it were not for the 
 rather heavy odors of the flowers, the atmos- 
 phere would be perfect. But they impair the 
 freshness and crispness of the air." 
 
 "Oh, don't say so!" protested Eleanor, who 
 experienced a sort of intoxication from the sweets 
 complained of. "This amber air, that rich yellow 
 sunset, these whispering trees, and this luscious 
 breath of flowers, put us into the land of the Lo- 
 tus-eaters, and make one feel life a luxurious 
 dream." 
 
 "Tennyson's poem is evidently in your mind," 
 said Margaret. "He necessarily selected the sun- 
 set hour for the scene he painted. But you recall 
 that his picture has some grander features than 
 are here the stream, in which 'the long-leaved 
 flowers weep,' and the 'craggy ledge' from which 
 'the poppy hangs in sleep.' ' 
 
 "Certainly," returned Eleanor; "but while 
 those features add to the landscape intended to 
 be laid before the eye of the reader's mind, I do 
 not admit that they would add to the charm of 
 our surroundings unless indeed we should add 
 the murmur of a distant water-fall." 
 
 "Well," laughed Mrs. Mason, "I think you will 
 have that, if you will listen a moment." 
 
 During the pause that followed Eleanor dis- 
 tinguished the silvery ripple and gurgle of a 
 stream as it hurried over granite rocks in the 
 depth of the forest eastward of them. 
 
 In a few minutes a tall, erect man stepped from 
 the hall into the piazza, and slightly inclining his
 
 THE STRANGER 137 
 
 face toward Mrs. Mason, said with as much so- 
 lemnity as if announcing a most serious event, 
 "Madam, tea is served." 
 
 "Well!" cried Margaret, "Uncle Scipio, you 
 will get to preaching sermons before each meal 
 if you keep on in this vein." The dignified indi- 
 vidual thus addressed responded only by a bow, 
 and then drew himself up to await the rising of 
 the ladies. When they had filed through the open 
 door he followed them with noiseless steps; and 
 when they entered the supper-room, he glided 
 past Mrs. Mason, drew her chair from the table, 
 handed it forward for her to be seated, and then 
 stood, motionless and straight behind her chair, 
 barely glancing toward the other end of the table, 
 as if to observe the deportment of a slender black 
 girl who had placed herself behind Margaret's 
 chair. When Mrs. Mason had said grace, El- 
 eanor stole a glance at this stately official, as he 
 plainly considered himself. 
 
 He was full six feet tall, an unusual height for 
 the full-blooded negro, was very slender, very 
 straight, and black as jet. His face was clean 
 shaven, but his head was covered with a dense 
 mass of hair, as white as snow. It needed no 
 statement to inform her that this aged man was 
 the family butler of many years' standing, whose 
 dignity of office and person forbade any but a very 
 limited familiarity. He did little waiting on the 
 table. It was small enough for each one of the 
 three ladies to reach almost anything she wanted ; 
 and the handing of plates, cups, and the like was 
 deftly and rapidly done by the active waitress. 
 
 It was the old-time Southern supper. A
 
 138 THE STRANGER 
 
 broiled half-grown chicken, a dish of small- 
 hominy (as grits is generally called in the South), 
 ground of flint-corn grown for that especial pur- 
 pose, and white as the delicate untinted china that 
 held it; a great circle of rolls, which sent forth a 
 perceptible steam when the dish-cover and towel 
 were lifted from them; biscuits, large, brown, 
 light and flaky; mutton chops; corn griddle- 
 cakes whose richness and delicacy taught the 
 stranger a new value in the plebeian maize ; 
 waffles that were brought in every two or three 
 minutes, hot from the irons, and so light and crisp 
 that an anchorite would readily have eaten half 
 a dozen of them; butter as yellow and sweet as 
 ever Jersey cream supplied; coffee, rich with 
 cream; tea which ought to have won even Haz- 
 litt's admiration; milk, fresh from the ice; two 
 kinds of light cakes, and a fruit-cake rich enough 
 to kill any man or woman of feeble digestion 
 these were what the teacher saw before her. 
 
 She had often wondered, since her sickness, 
 whether the world ever had known or ever would 
 know again such broiled chicken as she then en- 
 joyed. That she would never again find the dish 
 so palatable she was well assured. Now, how- 
 ever, the matter became involved in considerable 
 doubt; and she paused to ponder it, recurring, 
 of course, to the circumstances of her sickness. 
 Margaret observed her thoughtful appearance 
 and remarked upon it. 
 
 "I was thinking," said Eleanor, "of the last time 
 I ate broiled chicken in your company." 
 
 "At Mrs. Haxwell's. I had some amusement 
 in preparing that fowl. Mrs. Haxwell expressed
 
 THE STRANGER 139 
 
 herself in very funny language on the compara- 
 tive merits of lard and butter in such cooking; 
 and when I persisted in using butter, talked about 
 the great waste of the valuable material " 
 
 "On a Yankee school-marm," injected Eleanor, 
 laughing. 
 
 Scipio elevated his chin about ten degrees, and 
 fixed a stare of unusual stoniness on the opposite 
 wall, but whether in resentment of Mrs. Hax- 
 well's freedom of such speech or in scorn of 
 school-marms of Northern origin, Eleanor could 
 form no idea. The waiting-girl turned her head 
 to one side and scanned Eleanor's face with much 
 curiosity. 
 
 "Well," laughingly remarked Margaret, "she 
 may have employed some such terms, but her 
 language of protest against the 'flinging away,' 
 as she called it, of such fine, fresh butter on one 
 'little bit o' nothin' of a chicken,' was what par- 
 ticularly struck me. Her remonstrance was so 
 energetic that that hideous little servant Polly, 
 was it? Yes, Polly ventured to mutter some 
 words in concert, not well connected, but indicat- 
 ing that 'rich folks' could afford to waste 'a power 
 o' things' on their cooking." 
 
 "Then you surprised three people," said El- 
 eanor. "Sick as I was, I indulged in all sorts 
 of guesses as to how you had managed to get a 
 broiling-chicken in February." 
 
 "I raise them myself that is, Mammy Jane 
 and I raise them. We have charge of the poultry 
 department here. Ducks and geese we have not 
 raised in any great number; peafowls do not 
 thrive under our keeping we seldom grow more
 
 HO THE STRANGER 
 
 than ten or twelve a year; but we never buy a 
 chicken or a turkey. You shall see our collection 
 in the morning. Scipio, tell Mammy not to feed 
 the poultry to-morrow morning until I come out." 
 
 "Yes'm," responded the butler. 
 
 "You find that it requires constant attention, 
 no doubt," observed Eleanor. "You know I, too, 
 was reared on a farm." 
 
 "Yes. But both Mammy Jane and I are here 
 almost all the time ; and both of us are never ab- 
 sent at the same time. We introduce no new 
 stock, and thereby keep clear of the diseases that 
 affect many of the fowls brought to market. We 
 have a fine range for poultry in the body of woods 
 on each side of the yard, and in the field in the 
 rear, almost always sown in grain. It costs little 
 money, and requires no great labor." 
 
 "But do not birds and beasts of prey destroy a 
 great many of them?" 
 
 "No. Sometimes a mink or a weasel becomes 
 troublesome, and owls and hawks catch a few; 
 but we manage to get rid of these enemies pretty 
 well. I have a standing offer of twenty-five cents 
 for each large owl, chicken-hawk, blue hawk, 
 mink or weasel brought to me. Several of the 
 colored men on the plantation are fond of shoot- 
 ing. They hunt the Varmints,' as they call them, 
 partly for the sport, partly for the reward. These 
 rewards were first offered three years ago. At 
 first our poultry came pretty dear; for the 'var- 
 mints' were numerous. But at the end of twelve 
 months the enemies were pretty well extermi- 
 nated, and we need now pay very little for the de- 
 struction of transient visitors and new settlers."
 
 THE STRANGER 141 
 
 "You may follow minks and weasels to their 
 dens, and dig or cut or smoke them out," said 
 Eleanor, "but how about owls and hawks?" 
 
 "The hawks were sometimes shot in our very 
 yard. But I have known Dave Mason and Bob 
 Williams two of our farm-hands to stalk a 
 large hawk for a mile or two sometimes to 
 watch the flight of a pair of hawks for two or 
 three days at this season to discover their 
 nest. Having found it, one or both of them 
 and others of the negroes, for that matter 
 either haunt the surrounding woods, and shoot 
 the birds as they go to or come from the nest, or 
 else two or three of them or one, if he is selfish 
 about it will go to the woods before daylight, 
 and shoot one or both of the parent hawks as 
 they show themselves at dawn. The large owls 
 are harder to find. But several of them have 
 fallen before the guns of the men who watched 
 for them, on moonlight nights around the yard; 
 and others have been found by cutting down 
 large, dead, hollow trees in the swamp though 
 I suppose at least twenty trees have been cut to 
 each owl found." 
 
 "But how do the owls hurt? Your poultry is 
 housed at night." 
 
 "By no means. Our turkeys roost in trees as 
 soon as the young can walk the 'ladder-poles' into 
 the trees in the back yard. Most of the chickens 
 roost in the same way during the months of June, 
 July, August and September." 
 
 Mrs. Mason interposed at this point : "Mar- 
 garet, you will tire Miss Field if you have not 
 already done so with talk about your hobby."
 
 142 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Indeed, no," cried Eleanor. "I am very much 
 interested. I expect to write my sister Julia a 
 good deal of what I am hearing. Pray go on." 
 
 "Three large owls have been shot from the top 
 of the chimney to this room," pursued Margaret. 
 "One was shot in an oak just on the right of the 
 front door. One was shot while hooting on the 
 chimney of Jane's house. She, by the way, heard 
 him and, by her own admission, lay in terror in 
 her bed, with all her bed-clothes over her head, 
 until the report of Dave's gun and his shout in- 
 formed her that the prophet of evil was slain. I 
 shot a very large hawk off a limb of a mulberry 
 tree you will see in the back yard. He struck at a 
 chicken, within thirty yards of the house, about 
 twelve o'clock one day, while I sat reading in the 
 library across the hall. The setter, 'Guard,' that 
 you saw this evening, saw him and dashed at him, 
 and caused him to light on one of the lower 
 branches of the mulberry. No one was in the 
 yard at the time. I picked up a small rifle that 
 stood near me, and taking a good aim, as the bird 
 sat motionless watching the dog, sent a ball 
 through his body. I had him stuffed, and will 
 show him to you after tea." 
 
 "Margaret is very proud of that performance," 
 observed her mother, with a dry smile. "She 
 told it so often two years ago, that William Hunt- 
 ley dubbed her 'the Hawkslayer.' ' 
 
 From tea the three ladies went to the parlor. 
 This parlor corresponding with what is called in 
 the South the sitting-roqm, the name parlor be- 
 ing generally used for the drawing-room in that 
 section was handsomely but simply furnished.
 
 THE STRANGER 143 
 
 The colors of furniture, carpet, and curtains were 
 entirely green and gold, except some pale pink 
 and a touch of lavender in the carpet and rugs. 
 The plastered walls were of a delicate lemon tint, 
 and the high, elaborate mantelpiece was a white 
 marble with yellowish brown veins through it. 
 The effect, especially when assisted by the light 
 of a large chandelier with several burners, hang- 
 ing from the center of the ceiling, full ten feet 
 from the floor, and diffusing itself over the walls, 
 fourteen feet in height, and the large area of a 
 room, eighteen feet by twenty, was exquisitely 
 graceful, refined and delicate. And the furniture, 
 generally light and slender in structure, with a 
 large show of cane and willow work about it, and 
 only three or four cushioned chairs, added much 
 to the simplicity, tastefulness, and comfort of the 
 place. The whole seemed to Eleanor the perfec- 
 tion of a sitting-room for a Southern climate. 
 
 Observing her interest, Margaret said: 
 
 "And this is another one of my hobbies, as 
 mamma calls them. I arranged the furnishings 
 of this room five or six years ago. Mamma 
 thought them rather insipid as they certainly 
 are, if her drawing-room be taken as the standard 
 of elegance." 
 
 "I like rich colors and massive furniture," said 
 Mrs. Mason. "I will show you the drawing-room, 
 Miss Field, and let you judge. But you will not 
 see it at its best by lamplight. When you look 
 at it in the illumination of sunlight you will see its 
 full meaning." 
 
 "I hope I shall not be expected to pronounce
 
 144 THE STRANGER 
 
 judgment between the two," cried the teacher, 
 laughing and holding up her hands in deprecation. 
 
 "Oh, no," said the mother. "But you will form 
 your own opinion, all the same." 
 
 With that she left them. Presently she called 
 from across the hall that the young ladies should 
 come. Passing through the hall, they entered a 
 larger room than the one they had quitted - 
 twenty feet one way, and twenty-four the other 
 lit up by a great hanging lamp of six burners, 
 which blazed in circles of flame through pale pink 
 globes. Here the colors were crimson, black, 
 purple and orange. There were frescoes in large 
 figures on the ceilings; heavy moulding over the 
 great lamp and around the junctions of wall and 
 ceiling; elaborately gilded cornices were over 
 doors and windows; all sofas and chairs were of 
 massive mahogany, some covered with the old- 
 fashioned black haircloth, others with crimson 
 plush. A large mirror, elaborately framed, 
 stretched across the width of the great chimney, 
 above the open fireplace and the huge mantel, 
 and larger ones reached almost from floor to ceil- 
 ing on the other three walls of the room. Im- 
 mense richly colored vases sat on black marble 
 stands in the corners. The bric-a-brac on the 
 mantel were all of bright colors. The curtains 
 were silk and damask rather heavy, but luxu- 
 riant and costly. It was altogether a very ex- 
 pensive and solemn room, this room of state at 
 Oak Hall. 
 
 "This is all very fine," remarked Margaret; 
 "but one who has had to blink and yawn, as I 
 often did in my girlhood, in this place, during
 
 THE STRANGER 145 
 
 proverbial mauvais quart-d'heure, and sometimes 
 a mauvaise heure, before dinner, on a sultry sum- 
 mer day, learns a decided disrelish for these pon- 
 derous furnishings." 
 
 The teacher did not entirely agree with her 
 young hostess, but she did feel that the daugh- 
 ter's taste was rather better than her mother's. 
 
 "I like things plain, clean-cut, delicate, and 
 therefore simple," pursued Margaret. "Mamma 
 loves the large, grand, and rich. I detest a mys- 
 tery; mamma enjoys one. I love furniture and 
 furnishings as they are comfortable ; mamma 
 fancies the costly and imposing. I would not give 
 one of my willow chairs, costing ten dollars, for all 
 the mahogany rockers in this room, costing three 
 times as much. Mamma would not give one of 
 her mahoganies for all the willow-work between 
 here 'and the rivers of Babylon.' ' 
 
 "Why 'rivers of Babylon'?" inquired Mrs. Ma- 
 son. 
 
 "Because," answered Margaret, "it is there 
 that the captive Jews 'hanged their harps on the 
 willows' from which I infer that the tree was 
 abundant in that section." 
 
 "I fear you are not so imaginative as your 
 mother," said Eleanor. 
 
 "I am not. I'm a very practical person. But 
 I am glad to see that you enjoy mamma's room." 
 
 "I do greatly," returned the teacher. "It is 
 just the drawing-room I have hoped to see in the 
 South, corresponding with the brilliant sunlight, 
 the deep blue sky, and the gorgeous hues of the 
 flowers." 
 
 10
 
 146 THE STRANGER 
 
 Mrs. Mason was pleased. She laid a hand on 
 Eleanor's shoulder, saying, "I said, when Mar- 
 garet told me of you, that I believed we should 
 find you not altogether a stranger." 
 
 The evening was spent in conversation con- 
 cerning books, the nature of the country, and 
 plantation life. When they retired, Eleanor, es- 
 corted by Margaret, found her chamber opened 
 into that of the latter. Her hostess, in taking 
 leave of her, took her face between her hands, 
 and kissed her, saying, "Good night. God bless 
 you." 
 
 "God bless you and yours always," responded 
 Eleanor, fervently.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 The teacher rose with the sun, as was her habit. 
 In a few minutes Margaret called to her through 
 the door which separated the two rooms, saying : 
 "Alice is here, with coffee, and tea, and milk. I 
 always take one of the three as soon as I rise. 
 Shall I send her to you? If so, she will come by 
 the hall door. How are you? In my haste to 
 have you refreshed, I forgot to ask about your 
 health." 
 
 "Quite well," answered Eleanor. "And you?" 
 
 "Very well. Alice will be with you in a mo- 
 ment. When you are ready, come to the sitting- 
 room. I want you to see my poultry fed." 
 
 The maid promptly brought the morning cup, 
 and soon Eleanor joined her hostess below. Mar- 
 garet kissed her, and patted her cheeks, saying, 
 "I think we shall see roses here again, before 
 long," and then led the way to the back yard 
 where many chickens, ducks, turkeys and geese, 
 and six or eight spiteful peafowls, were clamoring 
 for their morning meal. Margaret's arrival with 
 the basket of grain created a general rush, and 
 brought scores of pigeons, common, fan-tailed, 
 pouters, and other kinds new to the visitor. 
 
 "What a collection!" exclaimed Eleanor. "I 
 never saw anything like it, except at a fair." 
 
 "This is a good hobby, isn't it?" said Mar- 
 garet. "But let us look at mamma's pets, the 
 cows." 
 
 Passing to the fence that divided the cow-lot
 
 148 THE STRANGER 
 
 from the yard, they saw six cows two Jerseys, 
 two Durhams, and two "scrubs." 
 
 "Now," said Margaret, "mamma persists in ex- 
 perimenting with milk kine. Those two black- 
 and-white "scrubs" are of the common, unpedi- 
 greed stock, but which has been well cared for 
 for three or four generations. They each give 
 from twelve to fifteen quarts of rich milk per day. 
 The Durhams give a little more, but it is not so 
 rich. The Jerseys yield about the same quantity 
 as the "scrubs," and it is somewhat richer." 
 
 "What do you do with all that milk?" 
 
 "We use a good deal ourselves, and use a great 
 deal of butter, for cooking as well as at the table. 
 We give three or four gallons of buttermilk to the 
 negroes on the plantation, and the rest of it to 
 the pigs. We sell several pounds of butter at 
 Cherenden every week. Mr. Cogburn buys it. 
 We are somewhat more thrifty than you ex- 
 pected us to be, eh?" 
 
 "I I don't know," returned Eleanor. 
 
 "Never mind," cried Margaret, tapping her 
 shoulder lightly. "But you will find before long, 
 my dear, that we Southern people are neither as 
 proud nor as extravagant as we are generally 
 supposed to be." 
 
 They were now summoned to breakfast, where 
 the fried chicken, eggs, cold milk, and sweet, yel- 
 low butter were all the more enjoyable for one's 
 knowing that they were products of the farm. 
 Moreover, when Eleanor took a slice of uncom- 
 monly transparent, delicate broiled bacon Mar- 
 garet informed her that all the bacon and hams 
 used in the house, and a large part of that con-
 
 THE STRANGER 149 
 
 sumed on the plantation, were produced there. 
 While at the table she directed Scipio to order 
 the two young horses, Oaks and Ruby, to be sad- 
 dled for herself and her guest. 
 
 "You see," said she, turning to Eleanor, "I take 
 it for granted that you will ride with me. I am 
 obliged to go to the other end of the plantation, 
 some time to-day, and I know that it will be more 
 pleasant this morning than later. However, if 
 it does not suit you to ride now, we can postpone 
 your ride till the afternoon, mamma taking 
 charge of you while I am gone." 
 
 Eleanor expressed her preference for the morn- 
 ing ride. 
 
 After a brief chat and "rest from breakfast," as 
 Margaret called it, the young hostess attired her 
 visitor in a riding habit, hat and gauntlets of her 
 own, and then assumed a plainer habit herself. 
 The two horses were by this time at the gate, 
 champing their bits and pawing excitedly. 
 
 Eleanor felt her blood stir with a tingle of 
 pleasure on seeing the beautiful high-mettled ani- 
 mals. Both were blood-bays, without a spot of 
 white ; tall, slender, long-necked and high-headed. 
 Each of them required a stable-boy to hold him, 
 and now and then one of them neighed and 
 reared, dragging his groom almost off his feet. 
 Observing this, Margaret said : "I see I shall have 
 to discipline master Ruby somewhat. I have not 
 ridden him for a month." 
 
 This Ruby was a wild colt, and apparently 
 vicious. He stamped, twisted, tried to rear, bit 
 at the boy, and lashed out a hind foot, now and 
 then, in pure fretfulness. When Margaret ap-
 
 150 THE STRANGER 
 
 preached him, calling his name and speaking 
 some kind words, the brute nipped at her hand 
 in no amiable fashion. Bidding his groom to hold 
 him fast, she struck him sharply on his nose with 
 her whip, commanding him to behave himself. 
 He reared and snorted, but the boy swung his 
 weight on the strong curb-bit, and pulled him 
 down. Then he seemed angry enough to paw his 
 mistress; but she stood right before him, eyeing 
 him steadily and holding her sharp whip ready 
 to repeat the punishment. The horse plainly had 
 some recollection of former contests with her; 
 for he made no effort to touch her. 
 
 Eleanor's horse, though very anxious to be off, 
 was much more tractable, and when she ap- 
 proached him gave her welcome with a low 
 whinny. He suffered her to pat his neck and 
 shoulder, and even reached his nose toward her 
 as if to return her caress. 
 
 "Oaks is a good horse," said Margaret. "You 
 and he will be good friends at once. The only 
 danger lies in being afraid of him, for that makes 
 him very nervous. But he sees that you do not 
 fear him, and intend to be kind to him. Mount 
 from the curb-stone," pointing to a large block 
 of granite, having two steps cut into one side. 
 
 When Eleanor was mounted, and Oaks showed 
 a disposition to be quiet, Margaret called his 
 groom to her, saying that she would mount from 
 his hands while the other boy held the horse's 
 head. She added that she was afraid the 
 colt would hurt himself if carried to the 
 mounting block. She then gathered the reins 
 lightly, placed her left foot in the extended
 
 THE STRANGER 151 
 
 palm of her attendant, and in an instant was 
 erect in the saddle, waving off the groom 
 from the horse's head. For an instant young 
 Ruby paused, as if not exactly sure of the 
 situation. Then, realizing that he was free 
 from grooms, he rose half erect, and plunged 
 forward with a great leap, throwing up his heels 
 as his fore-feet approached the earth. Eleanor 
 watched with no small concern. Oaks seemed to 
 forget everything in his observation of his wild 
 companion. Margaret was perfectly prepared. 
 No movement shook her in her seat; and as soon 
 as the horse was squarely on all fours she struck 
 him three or four times with the whip, on neck 
 and shoulders. Then he tried to bolt with her. 
 But he soon found his jaws sawed with a rapid 
 muscular force that evidently confused him. 
 Then he threw up his heels, and seemed about 
 to put his head between his knees coming as 
 near bucking as a blooded horse ever does. For 
 this his head was lifted with a sudden jerk, so vio- 
 lent that it made his mouth ache, and at the same 
 time his hindquarters received a blow that evi- 
 dently burnt like a hot iron. 
 
 Finally, Margaret called to Eleanor that they 
 might move forward, and at the same time di- 
 rected the two negroes to open the gate for the 
 dog Guard, who stood inside whining. Guard, at 
 a wave of the hand from his mistress, dashed 
 along the road in front, and Margaret and El- 
 eanor followed, going into the country. After 
 a canter of perhaps a third of a mile, which Ruby, 
 after some flourishes, made in good style, they 
 pulled their horses to a walk, in front of an ex-
 
 152 THE STRANGER 
 
 tensive lawn, on the opposite side of the highway 
 from the Mason plantation. This lawn embraced 
 six or seven acres, was well covered with grass, 
 and contained a growth of lofty oaks, without 
 undergrowth, and trimmed high. At the other 
 border of it stood a large frame residence, painted 
 white and having green blinds. A colonnade of 
 slender wooden columns, reaching to the height 
 of the ceiling of the second story, enclosed all 
 four sides of the building. There was no ap- 
 pearance of flowers or shrubbery on the place. 
 Margaret informed Eleanor that this was her 
 cousin William Huntley's home. 
 
 "It is handsome," said Eleanor; "but it has a 
 stern, solitary look." 
 
 "It is the fancy of its present owner which 
 makes it so," said Margaret. "In his mother's 
 time there were a great many fine flowers, but Wil- 
 liam had all these cut away and uprooted just 
 after the war, saying that forest trees and Dutch 
 flower-gardens did not agree with each other." 
 
 "Who lives there besides himself?" 
 
 "No one except the servants. Of the ten rooms 
 in the house he uses four a drawing-room, a 
 study, a dining-room and his bed chamber. His 
 drawing-room is opened, aired, and dusted every 
 fortnight, but at all other times it is kept locked, 
 except when mamma and I go over to dine with 
 him. Sometimes in winter a friend or two comes 
 to shoot with him for a few days; but only men 
 come, and he never opens the drawing-room to 
 them. He was very fond of his mother, who, still 
 comparatively young, and very beautiful, died be- 
 fore he reached his eighteenth year. In that room
 
 THE STRANGER 153 
 
 there is a very fine portrait of her, which he prizes 
 so jealously that he fears to have it exposed to 
 any accident whatever. There are many articles 
 in the house intimately associated with her. He 
 looks over these things very often, when alone, 
 his housekeeper tells me; but he seems to wish 
 them kept from all strangers." 
 
 "Then he has a melancholy sort of life," sug- 
 gested Eleanor, turning to catch a last glimpse 
 of the white building as it faded from view into 
 the surrounding mass of oaken foliage. 
 
 "Yes, but he is rather fond of solitude, and he 
 is an industrious student. He has a large and 
 valuable library, and he finds abundant employ- 
 ment in it." 
 
 Soon they came to a field where several ne- 
 groes were plowing. Eleanor observed that al- 
 most every plowman droned a melancholy song 
 sometimes a hymn-tune, sometimes a strange 
 combination of very long notes with very short 
 ones in a sort of recitative, the like of which she 
 had never heard except from men of that race, 
 as they trudged past Squire Williams's at night. 
 Every one sang his own air, and negro and mule 
 plodded slowly along about in time with it. As 
 soon as they reached the edge of the field she saw 
 a man on horseback, some two hundred yards 
 from the road, who seemed to be directing the 
 work of the laborers as they passed him. Mar- 
 garet's colt neighed shrilly; and then the horse- 
 man turned his face toward them. After a mo- 
 ment's pause he galloped his horse in their direc- 
 tion and Eleanor recognized William Huntley.
 
 154 THE STRANGER 
 
 "How-dy'-do, Cousin Hermit?" cried Mar- 
 garet, as he neared them. 
 
 "Pretty well, Cousin Gad-about," replied the 
 rider, laughing and raising his black felt hat. 
 "You are on the road as usual, I see. So she is 
 taking you the rounds, Miss Field," said he. "Be 
 thankful if she does not keep you out half the day, 
 while she visits every field on her plantation and 
 describes all the processes of agriculture." 
 
 "I shall be glad to hear her," returned Eleanor, 
 "if she talks as well about farming as she does 
 about poultry-raising." 
 
 "So you have seen her fowls, and heard her dis- 
 course on that department of industry?" 
 
 "Certainly," put in Margaret. "I only wish I 
 could teach you something in that line." 
 
 Huntley had been watching the colt Ruby. He 
 now said, rather seriously: 
 
 "I wish you had left that brute at home. You 
 could have had my black horse to ride. I do not 
 think Ruby at all safe anywhere; and I should 
 not care to ride him myself over farm paths and 
 ditches." 
 
 "As if you were a better rider than I!" re- 
 torted Margaret. 
 
 "I do not say that," said Huntley, "but any 
 man has a better chance than a woman with a 
 vicious horse on very rough ground." 
 
 "Don't be uneasy, Mentor," continued Mar- 
 garet. "I call upon Miss Field to testify if I am 
 a match for Ruby." 
 
 "I must say," said Eleanor, "that she mastered 
 him completely just now." 
 
 "Very well," said he, "I hope he will not turn
 
 THE STRANGER 155 
 
 the tables on her. When he does there will be a 
 badly spoiled horse, and probably a badly hurt 
 woman." 
 
 "Pshaw!" cried Margaret, whirling her horse- 
 quickly round, and then patting his high, arched 
 neck. "Ruby and I are good friends now; and 
 no doubt we shall remain so, eh, my handsome 
 Ruby?" 
 
 "Well," said Huntley, "you had best keep a 
 sharp lookout. Your horse, Miss Field, is a fine 
 fellow bold, ardent, full of activity, yet intelli- 
 gent and affectionate. He will play you no tricks. 
 But you will find him do better if you give him a 
 slack rein. That curb bit hurts and frets him 
 when drawn tight. I never ride with any other 
 bit than a snaffle, except when I have to handle 
 a beast like Ruby." 
 
 "Bye-bye," cried Margaret, waving her hand, 
 and starting off in a gallop, and the two ladies 
 rode forward. On looking back, at a turn of the 
 road a quarter of a mile away, Eleanor saw Hunt- 
 ley at the spot where they left him, evidently 
 watching them. She began to fear for the fear- 
 less rider beside her. A daring and accomplished 
 horseman, such as Huntley appeared to be, and 
 as Margaret herself said he was, was not likely to 
 indulge in any but well-founded apprehension. 
 And she recalled, with unpleasant sensations, 
 Mrs. Williams's account of Margaret Mason's 
 father's death. Yet they covered nearly two 
 miles of the highway without accident or interrup- 
 tion, though galloping at the rate of twelve miles 
 an hour. 
 
 Just after they turned into a narrow plantation
 
 156 THE STRANGER 
 
 road Margaret's horse snorted loudly, and stop- 
 ped to regard a man and a horse suddenly 
 brought into view, some fifty feet away, by a 
 sharp bend in the road. The rider was a small, 
 pale, beardless, delicate-looking man, dressed in 
 a white flannel suit, and wearing a very high- 
 crowned silk hat, beneath which long, curly, 
 sandy-colored hair depended to his shoulders. 
 His horse came to a stand-still, and he himself sat 
 staring at the ladies. When they arrived almost 
 abreast of him he raised his hat with a most se- 
 rious and elaborate movement. 
 
 "Why, good morning, Mr. Vaughn," cried 
 Margaret. "I never saw you out at this hour be- 
 fore." 
 
 "Good day," responded . the gentleman in a 
 shrill voice. "I came early to avoid the heat of 
 the sun." 
 
 "But," pursued Margaret, with amused grav- 
 ity, "why did you have to come at all into these 
 rough, dull roads through the woods?" 
 
 "Well, you see," replied he, mincing his words, 
 "I wanted some of the wild flowers that grow 
 along the border of your swamp just behind me 
 and ahead of you ; and I could not trust the gath- 
 ering of them to any one else. So here I came, 
 and here are my flowers," and then he opened a 
 pasteboard box, and exhibited a disordered mass 
 of yellow, white, and pink wild flowers. 
 
 "Very pretty," said Margaret. "Let me intro- 
 duce you to my friend Miss Field. Miss Field, 
 Mr. Vaughn." 
 
 Mr. Vaughn's large hat, which had not been
 
 THE STRANGER 157 
 
 restored to his head, was waved most courteously 
 10 the teacher. 
 
 "A a fine morning," remarked the gentleman, 
 "for for equestrian exercise." 
 
 "It is delightful," returned Eleanor. 
 
 "You are going over the plantation, I pre- 
 sume," suggested Mr. Vaughn. "It is charming 
 to see ladies taking aha ! whoa, you beast ! For 
 Heaven's sake, Miss Margaret, keep that brute 
 of yours from biting my horse to pieces !" 
 
 Margaret could not help laughing at the sor- 
 rel's awkward efforts to get beyond Ruby's 
 reach, and his rider's jerking his legs to keep out 
 of the colt's great, bared teeth. But she snatched 
 Ruby's head away; whereupon he presented his 
 other extremity to Mr. Vaughn's steed, and flung 
 out a heel that barely missed one of the sorrel's 
 front knees. Mr. Vaughn gave his horse a 
 whack with the large switch he carried, and re- 
 sumed his hat, saying, "I I rather think I'd bet- 
 ter move on. I I'll drop in at the Hall after tea 
 this evening, if you have no objection." 
 
 "We shall be glad to see you," replied Mar- 
 garet, cordially. "I shall expect you." 
 
 "Well, a a good morning." 
 
 And then Mr. Vaughn's horse carried him away 
 with a slow, swinging rack. 
 
 When he was out of earshot Margaret said: 
 
 "That is Mr. Marcus Aurelius Vaughn, the son 
 of a planter who lives a mile from here. They 
 were wealthy; but they have not much now ex- 
 cept a large body of poor, exhausted land." 
 
 "He seems to be rather a delicate young man," 
 observed Eleanor,
 
 158 THE STRANGER 
 
 "He is. He is the youngest son and child of 
 aged parents, whose other five or six children 
 have lived in their own homes for eight or ten 
 years. There is an interval of ten years between 
 him and the next older child, in consequence of 
 which or rather in consequence of the age of 
 his parents at his birth it is said that his father 
 proposed to give him the name of some scripture 
 character who was the child of old age as Isaac, 
 Samuel, or John. One story is that he wished to 
 name him ']ohn the Baptist.' But the mother, 
 who retained a certain fondness for Roman his- 
 tory and Roman names, insisted on calling him 
 after the philosophic Antonine." 
 
 "He was indulging in meditation, like his 
 namesake, when we met him," suggested Eleanor, 
 recalling the young man's startled look when he 
 encountered them. 
 
 "No doubt," said Margaret, joining in the 
 laugh. "He is given to that exercise. You may 
 be surprised if he does not favor you with some 
 of his philosophical reflections this evening." 
 
 "But he appears to be quite a gentlemanly per- 
 son," said Eleanor. 
 
 "He is. He is a man of high character, and is 
 well informed, and he is always courteous and re- 
 fined with ladies. The trouble is that he was 
 a spoiled, over-nursed, mother's child. He was 
 never suffered to take the weather or rough it 
 among boys; and he was dressed handsomely, 
 and carried about among old women, and very 
 precise, solemn ones at that, till it's a wonder 
 that he is not an old woman himself. His mother 
 poor, rheumatic, half-blind old lady calls him
 
 THE STRANGER 159 
 
 'Aury,' in the very tone one would use to a three- 
 months old baby." 
 
 "Pardon the question," said Eleanor after a 
 brief pause, "but are not or were not formerly 
 a good many boys in the South pampered in that 
 way?" 
 
 "No. Many of them were pampered by having 
 servants to wait on them, and by high living, and 
 by being allowed to live idle, and tyrannize over 
 slaves. But while these things made them indo- 
 lent, and extravagant, and domineering, they de- 
 veloped in them only such faults as those I have 
 just mentioned. An effeminate man was a rare 
 thing with us, and is a rare one now. In cities 
 they have them; but in small towns and in the 
 country our highest born and wealthiest were and 
 are, the most athletic, the most courageous, and 
 the most positive people we have. The war of 
 secession gave evidence of that state of things." 
 
 "I know," said Eleanor, "that you had most 
 gallant and efficient officers but the men in the 
 ranks?" 
 
 "Our proudest and wealthiest were there. In 
 the company of infantry in which my cousin Wil- 
 liam Huntley served as a private there were sev- 
 eral college graduates in the ranks, and he and 
 four others left college to enlist. I have heard 
 him say that there were ten men in the ranks 
 owning each over a hundred thousand dollars' 
 worth of property, and several worth from twenty 
 to fifty thousand dollars. The aggregate wealth 
 of the company was, he says, about two million 
 dollars. The seven commissioned officers they
 
 i6o THE STRANGER 
 
 had from the first to last were poor men among 
 the poorest in the company." 
 
 "That," said Eleanor thoughtfully, "accounts 
 somewhat for the desperate valor of your de- 
 pleted commands." 
 
 "By the way," said Margaret, "Mr. Vaughn is 
 said to have been a good soldier. He entered the 
 army at seventeen years of age, in 1863, and 
 once clear of his mother's apron strings, is said 
 to have met danger and privation with very cred- 
 itable spirit and fortitude. He was in the same 
 company with William, who says that he bore 
 everything well except mud and corn bread. 
 They say he used to grieve like a woman over 
 muddy shoes and soiled socks. But let us take 
 a little lope, as we call it here, over this smooth 
 ground," and they dashed away, leaving Marcus 
 Aurelius and the war behind. 
 
 They rode through a strip of woods to a large 
 field where plows were running, and negroes plant- 
 ing and covering cotton. While Margaret was talk- 
 ing to the colored foreman there, Ruby became 
 very fretful, and turned, and pawed, and pranced 
 sidewise. Margaret quieted him two or three 
 times with her voice and a touch of the whip ; 
 but the restless movements were soon resumed. 
 At length Margaret told Eleanor to remain where 
 she was while she rode to the other side of the 
 field to inspect three or four hands at work over 
 there. Then Ruby's rider started him at a gal- 
 lop, which was constantly accelerated, until the 
 two were seen, tearing across the heavy ground 
 at almost racing speed. In a few minutes they re- 
 turned at the same gait, Margaret now and then
 
 THE STRANGER 161 
 
 urging the colt with her whip. When they 
 reached Eleanor the horse was wet with perspira- 
 tion, and breathed loud and fast. 
 
 "I concluded to humor him," said Margaret, 
 quietly. "I think he is quite willing to remain 
 still now. A run of half a mile over such ground 
 as this generally teaches a horse something. Now 
 in order to get into the road yonder, which 
 leads us home, we have to cross a fence. It is not 
 as liigh as those around the fields, and is kept 
 here to mark our line and enclose the pasture 
 lands which extend over most of the lands around 
 and between cultivated fields. The fence is usu- 
 ally about five feet high. Let us see if we can 
 jump our horses." 
 
 On examination they found the rail fence to be 
 only of the height expected. 
 
 "Do you wish to try it?" asked Margaret. "I 
 can throw off two or more of the rails, if you wish, 
 without dismounting." 
 
 "I wish to take the leap," replied Eleanor. 
 "Oaks will find no difficulty in getting over, will 
 he?" 
 
 "No, especially when I lead." 
 
 With that she touched Ruby, and spoke to him. 
 He rose somewhat, but turned and refused to 
 leap. By that time Eleanor was carried clear over 
 the next panel by the active Oaks. 
 
 Margaret turned her horse's head and rode 
 back twenty or thirty yards, and then brought 
 him again to the fence at a canter. Again he re- 
 fused, whirling so unexpectedly as to unsettle 
 her in the saddle. The colt looked so vicious that 
 Eleanor cried out; 
 ii
 
 162 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Don't try any more. I am afraid he will hurt 
 you. Let me throw off some of the rails." 
 
 Margaret held forward her whip as if to stay 
 her hand, and said, "He shall take the leap. Stand 
 clear." 
 
 Then she galloped back forty or fifty yards, 
 turned the horse's head toward the fence, and 
 struck him four or five times with much force, 
 and as fast as the blows could be repeated. The 
 colt rushed frantically at the fence, but, pausing 
 an instant as he neared it, he received two more 
 blows. Mad with pain he plunged over it, and 
 was scarcely landed in the road when he bolted 
 ahead at full speed. The slacking of the reins 
 for the jump had given him such freedom as to 
 enable him to get the start of his rider a very 
 serious thing with a horse of his speed and 
 temper. Eleanor stared in mute horror at his 
 furious bounds straight across the open road to 
 a dense oak-and-hickory forest beyond. But in 
 that instant she could see that Margaret was self- 
 possessed and resolute. She threw her force into 
 a sudden jerk of the horse's head to one side, and 
 pulled him back so well at the same time that he 
 was stopped in his forward movement, and almost 
 thrown on his haunches. Then she forced his 
 head into the open road in the opposite direc- 
 tion from home and flogged him to his topmost 
 speed. Eleanor saw that she was resolved to tire 
 him ; so she held in snorting and prancing Oaks 
 as best she could and turned him the other way. 
 Far up the road she heard the flying feet of Ruby 
 for perhaps five minutes, then the sound died 
 away. And afterward the sounds were renewed,
 
 THE STRANGER 163 
 
 approaching her. Here now was a prospect of 
 two runaways ; for it was certain that if Margaret 
 returned at this speed, she would not be able to 
 hold Oaks. It was hard enough to keep him quiet 
 now. 
 
 But the hoofs of Ruby sounded less frequently 
 as he approached; and when he turned a bend 
 some hundred yards away he had toned down to a 
 reasonable canter. 
 
 "I am sorry I had to keep you waiting," said 
 Margaret, quietly. "But Ruby had to have his 
 lesson." 
 
 "I was alarmed for you," said Eleanor. "I saw 
 nothing possible except a frantic run through the 
 woods; and even after you held him in the road 
 I was afraid he would bolt into the woods again." 
 
 "He is a high-tempered, obstinate horse. You 
 have to show yourself his master, or he will soon 
 make himself yours." 
 
 "But is it worth the trouble and risk that one 
 incurs in breaking such an animal?" asked El- 
 eanor. 
 
 "Perhaps not," answered Margaret. "But we 
 have our fancies ; and one of mine is for a high- 
 spirited, fast, clear-footed horse." 
 
 At home they found Sarah Ann Jernigan, a 
 stout, rosy-cheeked, black-eyed, black-haired 
 young woman of perhaps eighteen years. Sarah 
 Ann had waited for an hour to see Margaret con- 
 cerning the trimming for her gown, for to-mor- 
 row would be Sunday, and that dress must be 
 ready to be worn, with all possible improvements, 
 to the village Baptist church that day. 
 
 Sarah Ann was in such a flutter that she did not
 
 164 THE STRANGER 
 
 have the chance, as she afterward reported to her 
 friend Malvina Neighbors, to observe even the 
 color or cut of Eleanor's dress, or the manner in 
 which her hair was done up. Her brother, "jist 
 like a man," as she said, had never delivered Miss 
 Margaret's message "ontil yisterday evenin'," 
 and now but one day remained for the "techin' 
 up" of that "lavender purple frock." She could 
 not imagine why "men always forgits everything 
 concernin' of a woman." She'd be "bound" that 
 her brother never would " 'a-gone and forgot a 
 hunt or somethin' fixed for hisself." 
 
 Margaret proceeded to discuss the gown as it 
 was which the young lady had brought with her. 
 Eleanor attempted to leave them ; but Sarah Ann 
 begged her to be so good as to stay, remarking, 
 with a titter, that "clo'es was somethin' that con- 
 cerned all women," and the "lady mought know 
 some new teches from the Nawth what hadn't 
 come this fur South." 
 
 Eleanor entered into the good-natured interest 
 which Margaret evinced in the country-maiden's 
 "clo'es," and soon found herself more than repaid 
 by the hearty, simple gratitude with which all her 
 opinions and suggestions were received. Then 
 Margaret brought out the fringe and braid and 
 buttons which she had suggested to Mr. Thomas 
 Jernigan might improve the garment in question ; 
 and in a minute all three were talking at once. 
 Sarah Ann "stood up," as she called it, for the 
 original trimmings mostly very red purple in 
 color, with some crimson profusely applied. 
 But when Margaret showed one of her own 
 gowns of almost the identical shade, and the
 
 THE STRANGER 165 
 
 young woman took note of the graceful and har- 
 monious effect of more subdued colors and shades 
 of the same color, she admitted that the changes 
 suggested would be an improvement. Margaret 
 forced her to accept the trimmings first shown 
 her, assuring her that they were of no use to her 
 whatever, as they were pieces left after complet- 
 ing her own gown, and had lain idle for months. 
 Then Sarah Ann was quite happy, until she 
 thought of her hat. 
 
 "But laws-a-mussy !" she exclaimed, "what in 
 the world am I to do about the hat? It don't 
 match this here new trimmin' at all!" 
 
 Margaret had her describe the hat trimmings; 
 and then furnished her with some remnants of 
 her own hat trimming, consoling her, when they 
 proved insufficient to dress the hat, with the sug- 
 gestion that she might well retain on it all except 
 the very "loud" colors, as Sarah Ann called the 
 crimson and most fiery purple. The guest de- 
 clined to stay to luncheon, and hurried off on 
 her one-eyed, pacing, gray, flea-bitten mare, after 
 "wishing them well" and thanking Margaret with 
 effusion.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 While Eleanor read that afternoon in the li- 
 brary she heard a thundering rattle on the front 
 door, and then a vigorous ring of the door-bell. 
 After that a voice at the door demanded of some 
 one probably the noiseless Scipio, who had 
 glided in his felt shoes to answer the summons 
 "whar" Mrs. Mason was. She heard no reply to 
 the question; but in a few seconds the voice in- 
 quired "whar" Miss Margaret was. Next she 
 heard Margaret's voice, calling the visitor Mr. 
 Jernigan. The deep coarse voice of that farmer 
 asked- in tones which could have been heard 
 above the roar of a cyclone whether he could 
 borrow a mule to ride to the village. He was an- 
 swered in the affirmative, and Margaret called to 
 Scipio to bid John go to the lot with Mr. Jer- 
 nigan and help him catch such mule as he pre- 
 ferred. Then there was silence again. 
 
 In fifteen minutes there was quite a bang of 
 hard knuckles against the side of the front door. 
 This call Margaret appeared to answer herself. 
 Then a slow but very loud voice inquired if "Miss 
 Margaret" could let the speaker have a dozen 
 eggs, as the "preacher" was to take supper at 
 "our house" that night. Aunt Jane was called, 
 and directed to give Mr. White a dozen eggs. 
 This done, the speaker scraped his foot' on the 
 floor, thanked "Miss Margaret" in a voice which 
 shook the glass vase near Eleanor, and went 
 away.
 
 THE STRANGER 167 
 
 He was hardly gone when the front of the 
 house was rapped smartly with some hard sub- 
 stance probably a heavy stick. Jane was heard 
 speaking to "Miss Atkins," who wanted to know, 
 in a very loud, shrill voice, "whar" "Miss Mason 
 or Miss Marg'ret" was. Margaret evidently 
 heard the words, for she was soon talking with 
 the old woman. 
 
 "I got outen bacon and meal and 'taters jist 
 this evenin'," cried the latter, "an' I jist thought 
 I mought borry some fum you all." 
 
 "Certainly," returned Margaret's voice pleas- 
 antly. "How much do you need?" 
 
 "Well, I can't say adzactly, for the mule's dead 
 lame, an' it's Saturday, an' my son Andrew is 
 poorly. He's got a dumb chill agin. An' you 
 know the last chill was powerful hard to break. 
 An' the doctor, he 'scribed dogwood bark in whis- 
 key. An' the whiskey we got ain't strong enough 
 to draw all the strengt' outen the bark. An' I 
 don't know " 
 
 "Well," interrupted Margaret, kindly, "I should 
 think you could hardly send to the village for 
 three or four days. I suppose, then, that you had 
 better take a peck of meal, and four or five pounds 
 of bacon, and a peck or so of potatoes. But 
 you can't carry that much, Mrs. Atkins." 
 
 "I was just a thinkin' as how you mought have 
 some nigger a doin' nothin', and he mought " 
 
 "Very well. Mammy, tell Scipio to get a peck 
 of corn meal, a peck of sweet potatoes, and four 
 or five pounds of bacon, and get one of the boys 
 to go along with Mrs. Atkins, to carry them for 
 her."
 
 168 THE STRANGER 
 
 The visitor was loud and shrill in her thanks, 
 and then told a long rigmarole about the cause 
 that had prevented her from returning the corn 
 borrowed on New Year's Day, the bacon borrowed 
 on "Washington's birthday," the flour borrowed 
 "long about the fust of last month," and the lard 
 borrowed this "Aprile." After a few minutes the 
 supplies seemed to be brought, and the old woman 
 went away, calling back that everything borrowed 
 would be repaid "jist as soon as Andrew gits 
 over them dumb chills o' his'n." 
 
 Margaret soon joined her guest, and Eleanor 
 told her how she had overheard her visitors. Mar- 
 garet laughed, but made no answer except that 
 Mrs. Atkins was a poor, infirm woman, whose 
 only son was an idler, and whose daughters had 
 married penurious men living at some miles dis- 
 tance. 
 
 As the two walked to the front veranda, an 
 old negro woman came hobbling up the walk 
 from the gate leaning on a long, crooked staff. 
 Eleanor remarked that here was probably another 
 person come to "borry." 
 
 "Y-es," answered Margaret, "or rather to get 
 something on the credit of poultry and eggs 
 never to be delivered." 
 
 The old woman stopped at the foot of the steps, 
 curtsied profoundly, and stared at the ladies. 
 
 "How d'ye do, Aunt Nancy?" said Margaret. 
 
 "Well, I 'clare, Miss Marg'ret!" exclaimed the 
 woman. "You is gittin' puttier every day. I ain't 
 know what dese young men 'roun' hyar gwine 
 to do. I 'spec' dey is jis' gwine to git to fight'n 
 'bout who shall marry you."
 
 THE STRANGER 169 
 
 "I hope not," returned Margaret. 
 
 "Well," resumed Nancy, with an air of intense 
 seriousness, "I don't see how as dey kin go to 
 law 'bout it. Ef dey could, de jedge mought 
 settle .de queshton. But den nobody ever heerd 
 o' goin to law 'bout a young 'oman; so I 'spec' 
 dey's got to fight over you. I never seen nobody 
 keep on a-growin' more han'some every day." 
 
 "But here's my friend, Aunt Nancy. This is 
 Miss Eleanor Field. What have you to say about 
 her? Won't she get some of the young men ex- 
 cited?" 
 
 "She's a mighty nice-lookin' lady," replied the 
 woman, rather patronizingly; "but you see I 
 don't know nothin' 'bout her, so fur." 
 
 "Well," said Margaret, "she's my friend; and 
 you must like her as I do." 
 
 "I'm 'bleeged to like your frien's, Miss Mar- 
 g'ret," returned Nancy. "Ef I'd knowed you had 
 a frien' wid you I mought 'a brung you some o' dat 
 fine sparrergrass (asparagus) what grows at my 
 house. But den you nuvver let me know." 
 
 "So you keep your asparagus bed still?" 
 
 "Yes, honey. I don't nuvver eat none of it; 
 but Sam and me keeps it up, fur to sell. Mars 
 William Huntley buys it putty reg'lar; an' den 
 we sells some in de village. Only I don't sell 
 you none. I jist brings it to you for a present-like. 
 An' now I'm a-speakin' on it, I rickollects how 
 I mought a-fotch you some o' them Dom'nicker 
 fry in' chickens. Dey's better'n any you got. But 
 dey wusn't quite large 'nough. 'Bout two weeks 
 fum now I'll fetch 'em six on 'em, all reg'lar 
 speckled Dom'nickers."
 
 170 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Very well. What do you intend me to pay 
 for them?" 
 
 "Well, you see I run short o' flour dis mornin', 
 an' Sam he got a misery in his foot, an' he 
 couldn't go to de village. - So I ax you, if you 
 please, to let me have 'bout five or six poun' o' 
 flour, ontil de Dom'nickers gits big 'nough to 
 eat." 
 
 "Very well," said Margaret, good-naturedly. 
 
 "An' den de bakin gin out right 'long wid de 
 flour. An' I was 's'posin' you mought spar' me 
 'bout two poun' o' bakin." 
 
 "And the Dom'nickers will be large enough to 
 bring me in two weeks?" 
 
 "Yes, honey, you knows dem chickens is a 
 comin' hyar right straight two weeks fum to-day 
 don't you ? >5 
 
 "Of course. But we need not talk any more 
 of that." 
 
 "Jis' so," cries Nancy. "But I was a wantin' 
 dat lady, what is a stranger, to know dat ole 
 Nancy pays de chickens whenever dey's jue." 
 
 "Very good. Go around to the back yard, and 
 tell Jane about the flour and bacon." 
 
 "De Lord bless you! How's yo' ma, Miss 
 Marg'ret? I s'pose she's doin' good among de 
 neighbors an' sarvin' de Lord, like she's always been 
 a doin'." 
 
 Nancy now took her way to the gate opening 
 into the back yard, where, after a controversy with 
 the dog Guard, and cries on her part of "Bless 
 de Lord," she was, by Jane's audible interposition, 
 rescued and carried on. 
 
 Eleanor saw now, for the first time, the Ameri-
 
 THE STRANGER in 
 
 can African in the character of beggar, and asked 
 Margaret how often such things occurred with 
 the same applicant. 
 
 "Oh," replied the latter, laughing, "she comes 
 every month or so usually with the request for 
 a smaller loan than this." 
 
 "Does she ever pay?" 
 
 "She brings us two or three famished chickens 
 during the year. But she is old, and her husband, 
 Sam, is lazy, and they were family servants of 
 mamma's father; and you know we cannot well 
 refuse them. They belonged, after grandpapa's 
 death, to William Huntley's father, and after his 
 death to William. He allows them the use of a 
 cabin and three or four acres of ground. Sam 
 has a small cotton patch, on which he raises about 
 a bale of cotton every year, and they have a gar- 
 den, mostly of cabbages and beans. Sam borrows 
 one of our mules, or one of William's to plough 
 as he needs ; and with those things, and William's 
 pay for 'sparrergrass,' and other vegetables, and 
 loans from the two households, they make out a 
 living. William buys, at high prices, everything 
 they carry him whether he wants it or not. The 
 'sparrergrass' being mentioned, I may say that 
 William has the finest bed of asparagus I ever 
 saw, yet while he gives away bushels of the vege- 
 table every spring, he buys all that Nancy has to 
 sell. I'll get her account of William, by the way, 
 as she returns." 
 
 Soon Nancy, escorted by Jane and closely 
 watched by Guard, came to the front, carrying 
 the articles she had desired, and invoking bless- 
 ings on Margaret Mason's head.
 
 172 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Aunt Nancy," said Margaret, "have you seen 
 Cousin William Huntley lately?" 
 
 "Lord bless you, honey, I ain't seen Mars 
 William sence two weeks ago. Den I went to 
 his house to borry jist a leetle bit o' meal an' a 
 spec' o' sorghum." 
 
 "You got them, I suppose." 
 
 "Well now, I'll tell you. I did git 'em ; an' 'fore 
 God, I mus' tell de troof an' say he gin me mo' 
 as I axed fur. But he gin me a sort' o' cussin' at 
 de same time." 
 
 "Aha! And what was the cause of that?" 
 
 "Now, Miss Marg'ret, you knows Mars Wil- 
 liam. He's a mighty fine young man; but he 
 will use cuss words." 
 
 "And you can't cure him of the habit?" 
 
 "No, honey. I tole him onct as how I had been 
 a prayin' fer him to quit his wickedness an' turn 
 to sarvin' de Lord. An' den you ought to a' 
 heered him ! Josh come up in de midst of it. 
 Josh don't like me an' Sam overly much, any- 
 how; he's 'feared Mars William '11 think more 
 o' us than he do of him -jealous-like, you know. 
 Josh sorter tu'n up his nose. Says Mars William 
 to Josh, 'J osn > what shall I do wid dis ole idgit?' 
 says he. 'Break her head wid a stick,' says Josh. 
 I tells Josh he ain't got no bus'ness in de matter. 
 Josh says he's gwine to tell Mars William what 
 he axes, don't matter what ole nigger in de quesh- 
 ton. Mars William tell Josh him a larfin' 
 all de time, 'dough me an' Josh ain't larf a bit 
 he tells Josh he better bring him de mar' Delta, 
 an' tie me on her back fur ride home. Delta 
 standin' right dar, an' 'pears fum de looks o' her
 
 THE STRANGER 173 
 
 eyes she knows what devilment Mars William 
 fixin' fur me. Josh, he come like he goin' to 
 ketch me. Mars William call Tom. I always 
 did 'spise dat Tom. Tom come a runnin'. Den 
 Josh ketch me by one arm, an' Tom by t'other. 
 Den Delta, she went to chargin' an' snortin', jis' 
 like she was crazy. An' you b'lieve me, honey? 
 Dem niggers was jis' a-histin' me inter de 
 saddle, and me a hollerin' fur true, when Mars 
 William stop 'em, an' make 'em let me go. I did 
 go, I tell you. An' what's more, I ain't said 
 nothin' to Mars William 'bout cussin' sence; an' 
 I ain't a gwine to, nuther!" And Nancy tottered 
 away, muttering, "An' I ain't a' gwine to, nuther." 
 
 Soon there appeared a ragged, barefoot white 
 boy, twelve or fourteen years of age. This 
 youth Abner Fant was the name of him told a 
 drawling story of a father "down wid de rheuma- 
 tiz" and a mother "laid up in bed wid de pneu- 
 mony or somethin'," and brother Jim with a 
 foot cut by an axe, and brother Joe with a 
 sprained wrist, and two or three sisters "jist sick, 
 an' no 'count" ; and on the strength of such facts 
 begged the loan of a peck of meal. Abner was 
 accommodated, and then shuffled away. 
 
 "This is one of my reception days," remarked 
 Margaret, placidly. "You see it is Saturday, and 
 these people must tide over Sunday." 
 
 "It is certainly no holiday for you," returned 
 Eleanor, "whatever it may be to your visitors." 
 
 "One becomes accustomed to it," said Marga- 
 ret "And it does not cost much." 
 
 "But," protested Eleanor, "do they ever pay 
 back? I should not think so."
 
 174 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Not all of them, of course. But some attempt 
 it in a small way, and I suppose the most of them 
 hope to do so." 
 
 Presently Jane came from the rear, stating that 
 "old Ben him at the gum-spring" had come beg- 
 ging for another peck of meal, as he had dropped 
 his in the branch and lost it on the way home." 
 
 Margaret laughed, then replied: "Tell Ben that 
 he must invent something new. This is the sec- 
 ond instance of dropping meal into the branch, 
 and both accidents happening within the last 
 month. Tell him to go home and keep away 
 from the branch." 
 
 "That's 'bout what I tole him," observed Jane, 
 giggling, and then she departed. 
 
 "What a foolish repetition!" exclaimed Elea- 
 nor, much disgusted. 
 
 "Why, yes," said Margaret. "The tale, though 
 not believed, got him a duplicate ration two or 
 three weeks ago, and he thinks it will work again. 
 Do you remember a very small stream of water 
 about two feet wide and three or four inches 
 deep where we paused to speak of the luxuriant 
 display of dog-wood blooms and honey-suckle, 
 this morning? That is the branch Ben must refer 
 to for it is the only water between here and his 
 house. You know that one would hardly drop a 
 bag of meal crossing the smooth, pebbly bed 
 there. And if he did let it fall, he could have 
 snatched it up in a moment." 
 
 "Of course," said Eleanor. "The old fellow 
 is thoroughly dishonest. You ought not to have 
 paid any attention to him the first time." 
 
 "My dear," said Margaret, smiling, "we must
 
 THE STRANGER 175 
 
 make large allowances for these people. Their 
 bondage taught them as bondage teaches all 
 men to resort to all sorts of devices to accom- 
 plish their purposes. And besides, the negroes 
 do not think they rob me and mamma by appro- 
 priating small things belonging to us. They think 
 us very rich too rich to be injured by even a 
 great many small losses. Often, when I convict 
 one of them of an actual theft, he tells me, as 
 coolly as possible, that it 'didn't hurt' me or 'old 
 Miss.' ' 
 
 "They are strange people, certainly," observed 
 the Northern woman. 
 
 "They are. It is impossible to measure the 
 average negro by any standard known among 
 white people. Some of them are thoroughly hon- 
 est thoroughly conscientious. Some of them 
 are most trustworthy to their former masters, 
 while dishonest with all others. William Huntley 
 has on his plantation one of the worst thieves 
 in the county; yet William does not hesitate to 
 commit to his keeping all sorts of property. He 
 tells me that he has set baits to catch 'black 
 Nestor,' as the negroes call him, but has always 
 found him incorruptible. Now Jane and Scipio 
 and the girl Alice here, and William's Josh, and 
 Caesar, and Caesar's wife, Amanda, are all too 
 proud of their 'white folks,' as they call them, and 
 have been too much identified with us, to play us 
 false. Many of them are roguish in small things, 
 but honest in great ones. They 'take,' as they 
 call it, trifling articles or trifling quantities, with- 
 out regarding it stealing. Almost every cook appro- 
 priates a biscuit out of every five or six she cooks.
 
 176 THE STRANGER 
 
 And so with the other things. Most of them 
 scarcely understand the morality which absolutely 
 forbids the taking of anything which is the prop- 
 erty of another. They look to material results. 
 In their eyes, taking anything of value is a crime, 
 while taking a thing which the owner can well 
 do without is no crime no immorality even. And 
 they will scarcely be better until they are educated to 
 appreciate the nature of right and wrong as a mat- 
 ter of principle. But let me show you our gardens." 
 
 After inspecting the beautiful and the extensive 
 vegetable-garden back of it, the visitor said, "I 
 think you must raise vegetables for the whole 
 neighborhood." 
 
 "Oh, that's only the spring and early summer 
 crop," answered Margaret. "After peas, lettuce, 
 radishes, and some more of these things are gone 
 we plant more cabbage, and sow more turnips, 
 and put in our fall corn and tomatoes. I have 
 counted a thousand heads of cabbage here in Oc- 
 tober." 
 
 After some further exchange of opinion on the 
 subject of gardening, Margaret said, "I show you 
 these things because I think you can appreciate 
 them. Now be prepared to assist me when I 
 shall hereafter propound questions which I take 
 it for granted you, as a farmer's daughter also, 
 can answer." 
 
 "But," returned Eleanor, "how can I teach you? 
 You have no doubt a well-trained gardener, and 
 you and your mother probably know more than 
 I do." 
 
 "I do not feel at all sure. You may teach me 
 a good deal about some things strawberries*
 
 THE STRANGER 177 
 
 raspberries, celery and so on. The trouble with 
 us in the South is that we are too content to 
 travel the track our ancestors trod, and too little 
 disposed to study the theories and management of 
 others. Why, I have not been able to convert a 
 single person to the theory of Irish potato ferti- 
 lization which William Huntley taught me two or 
 three years ago. Everybody in the neighbor- 
 hood, except him and ourselves, loads his potato 
 bed with the nitrogen of the stable instead of 
 ashes and other potash-yielding substances. In 
 vain I compare our dry, mealy bulbs with the 
 gummy roots of their gardens. The Jernigans 
 say the difference is owing to the 'sile.' Colonel 
 Tomlinson urges that we have better prepared 
 land, though he covers the bed with pine straw as 
 soon as it is planted, and so do we, and never 
 afterward work it at all. Mrs. Atkins says, 'You 
 tin's gits finer marietifs of 'taters as we 'uns kin 
 buy.' And so, though for different reasons, they 
 all move on in the same old groove." 
 
 "I'm afraid," suggested Eleanor, smiling, "that 
 they will find you no conservative, at that rate." 
 
 "I love old things old families, old properties, 
 old sentiments, old ideas provided they contrib- 
 ute to happiness, and harmonize with progress 
 and intelligence ; but I have no patience with any- 
 thing, however ancient, which stands in the way 
 of right thinking, .or right feeling, or right doing." 
 
 This woman afforded Eleanor a fresh surprise 
 every time she talked with her. This last one 
 was not the least of the list, as the teacher's counte- 
 nance plainly disclosed. Thereupon Margaret 
 laughed as if much amused.
 
 178 THE STRANGER 
 
 "So I have astonished you. I am very glad. 
 You will gradually find that you and I are not so 
 far apart as you formerly thought, my dear 
 Eleanor if I may so call you." 
 
 So saying, she laid her hand on the New Eng- 
 land woman's shoulder, and laughed again, very 
 gently this time. Eleanor took her other hand in 
 both hers, and held it while she said, "You got 
 very near my heart weeks ago, Margaret Mason !" 
 
 Margaret touched her brow with her lips, and 
 said, "We shall never misunderstand each other. 
 I shall call upon you whenever I think a friend can 
 help me; and you must never hesitate to let me 
 know when it seems to you possible for a friend 
 to give you aid." 
 
 For an instant they stood face to face, one rest- 
 ing her hand on the other's shoulder, the other 
 holding her friend's hand clasped against her 
 bosom. It was a beautiful picture the tall, 
 stately representative of proudest Southern aris- 
 tocracy exchanging pledges of love with the 
 daughter of New England whose intelligence and 
 character had won her way, over all the prejudices 
 and traditions and antagonisms of perhaps three 
 centuries, to a heart that lately seemed so far 
 away. Then Margaret drew her friend's arm 
 within her own, and they walked on in silence. 
 
 Presently Jane's shrill voice was heard clamor- 
 ing for "Miss Marg'ret." 
 
 "I think," said Margaret, "that summons means 
 dinner. I was about to propose eating some of 
 these berries from the vine," pointing to the 
 strawberries; "but that would affect our appe- 
 tites."
 
 THE STRANGER 179 
 
 The three ladies were closing their meal with a 
 demi-tasse of black coffee when the hall bell was 
 rung loudly. 
 
 ''That was a ring vigorous enough for William 
 Huntley," remarked Mrs. Mason, as Scipio went 
 to answer the call. 
 
 "Do you expect him?" asked Eleanor, feeling 
 no great pleasure from the prospect of meeting 
 the taciturn trustee. 
 
 "N no," answered Margaret; "but he comes 
 over almost every day." The butler, however, 
 announced that Mr. Vaughn had called. 
 
 "That is our Mr. Marcus Aurelius," said Mar- 
 garet to Eleanor. 
 
 "Then you have met him, Miss Field," said Mrs. 
 Mason; "and we shall invite him to join us. 
 Scipio, tell Mr. Vaughn we are taking coffee, and 
 wish him to join us." 
 
 "Yes," cried Margaret, "and let him under- 
 stand that we are not to be refused." 
 
 Presently the visitor entered with Scipio. 
 
 "Good day," said he. "I I just called to see 
 all of you. I I had dinner two hours ago ; but 
 Scipio was so very positive about it that I er, 
 er had to come along with him." 
 
 "Take a seat, Mr. Vaughn," said Mrs. Mason. 
 "Shall Scipio give you some coffee?" 
 
 "I I suppose so," answered their guest ab- 
 sently, gazing first at Margaret and then at 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "Perhaps you would like a plate of berries first," 
 suggested Margaret. "I am about to return tc 
 them before finishing coffee. Who will join me? 
 And what did you do with yourself after we saw
 
 i8o THE STRANGER 
 
 you to-day, Mr. Vaughn?" inquired Miss Mason, 
 after she and Mr. Vaughn had been helped to 
 berries. 
 
 "Ah hum! Well, about the first thing I did 
 was to dismount and pick up my hat, which was 
 knocked off against a limb in my horse's frantic 
 effort to turn back and follow your horses." 
 
 "You should not have worn a tall silk hat in the 
 woods," suggested Miss Mason, demurely. 
 
 "To be sure," returned Mr. Vaughn. "I I 
 thought that myself as soon as my hat fell." 
 
 "Mr. Vaughn," said Mrs. Mason, joining in the 
 laugh this simple statement caused, "I fear we 
 shall never be able to make you a countryman." 
 
 "Ha, ha ! I I don't like some things in the coun- 
 try, as long as I have lived here." 
 
 "And what did you do later?" asked Margaret. 
 
 "I I rode home" 
 
 "And after that you rode over here," added 
 Margaret, seriously. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Vaughn, looking foolish. "But 
 I did something else, as I was going to tell you 
 when you took the word out of my mouth. Miss 
 Field, did you ever observe what a way Miss Mar- 
 garet has of er taking the word out of a fel- 
 low's er mouth ?" 
 
 Eleanor replied that she did not recollect hav- 
 ing observed it. 
 
 "Margaret," said Mrs. Mason, "you ought not 
 to take the words out of people's mouths." 
 
 "There now!" cried Mr. Vaughn, in glee. 
 "Your own fond mother feels it her duty to er 
 reprehend such a practice. So I hope we shall 
 not soon have a hm repetition of it,"
 
 THE STRANGER 181 
 
 "I beg pardon," said Margaret, "and shall en- 
 deavor not to offend in like manner again. But 
 you will tell us what you did?" 
 
 "That's clever!" exclaimed Mr. Vaughn, with 
 much satisfaction. Then to Eleanor, "Miss Mar- 
 garet always makes the handsomest ah amends 
 for any little accidental er discourtesy. Well 
 ah I I where was I?" 
 
 "If I may venture a suggestion now," said 
 Margaret "your narrative left you in the woods 
 picking up your hat." 
 
 "Thank you thank you. That was kind in 
 putting the word into a er fellow's mouth. 
 Well, I went home, trying to think of some atten- 
 tion to show your guest and your good mother 
 and you. I I remembered that there were 
 snipe in the meadows beyond our house, and " 
 
 "And you hurried to the meadow, and shot a 
 dozen or more snipe, and you have brought them 
 to us," cried Margaret rapidly, while Mr. Vaughn, 
 with wide-open mouth, stared at her. 
 
 "There you are again," groaned the gentleman. 
 "Mrs. Mason, good lady, I wish you could 
 er prevail upon Miss Margaret to quit taking 
 the word out of my ah mouth !" 
 
 The two young ladies now broke down com- 
 pletely, and laughed heartily, and even Mrs. Ma- 
 son had to bite her lips severely to restrain her- 
 self. 
 
 "Margaret," said Mrs. Mason, "you must not 
 forestall Mr. Vaughn in this way." 
 
 "Ah ah thank you very much, good lady," 
 cried Mr. Vaughn, bowing to the mother.
 
 182 THE STRANGER 
 
 Eleanor now felt quite at ease with this queer 
 little man with the long flaxen hair, and said: 
 
 "And what about the snipe? Did you hunt 
 them?" 
 
 "My dear young lady," replied he, gratefully 
 and earnestly, "I I carried my thought into 
 execution promptly. I shouldered my gun, 
 whistled up my dog, called Toodles (that's a diminu- 
 tive young nigger that goes with me a good deal) 
 and" 
 
 "Can Toodles shoot?" asked Margaret, blandly. 
 
 "No, he cannot. You see he is only eight 
 years old. I I hope to er er teach him later." 
 
 "But one ought to begin early in order to make 
 a good shot," pursued Margaret, apparently in 
 great seriousness, fixing the delicate young man 
 with her brilliant eyes. 
 
 "No doubt," assented the young man help- 
 lessly; and then sat staring at the face of his 
 hostess. 
 
 Eleanor now regarded their visitor with much 
 sympathy. She thought what a beautiful woman 
 he would have been with his clear cut, delicate 
 features, his transparent pink complexion, his 
 large, deep-blue eyes, fringed with long dark, silken 
 lashes, his mild arched lips, his penciled brows, 
 and his fine, straw-colored hair, lying in half- 
 formed ringlets upon his shoulders. She could 
 have loved such a woman, for such a physique in 
 one of that sex would have indicated the most 
 refined and spirituelle type of aristocratic breed- 
 ing. But such a man was to be pitied ; he showed 
 an effeminacy caused by ease, idleness, luxury
 
 THE STRANGER 183 
 
 and super-refinement, a weakness surely not his 
 fault. 
 
 "And how many snipe did you shoot?" asked 
 Eleanor, sympathetically. 
 
 "Ah ! Snipe ! Yes !" answered he, withdrawing 
 his eyes from Margaret and turning to Eleanor, 
 with an appearance of great relief. "Well, I 
 well, how many would you guess?" 
 
 "I should say twelve." 
 
 "No, no," cried Margaret, kindly. "That would 
 be a large bag of snipe in this part of the country. 
 I say eight." 
 
 "No," said Marcus Aurelius, sadly, "it was not 
 even eight." 
 
 "Did you ever eat a snipe, Eleanor?" inquired 
 Margaret. 
 
 "I think not. I should like to, though. Are 
 they nice, Mr. Vaughn?" 
 
 "De-licious !" repeated he, clasping his hands 
 on the table and sighing. 
 
 "Well," said Margaret, "I venture to say that 
 Mr. Vaughn wished to kill some for you, Eleanor. 
 Now didn't you?" 
 
 "My dear creature," exclaimed Marcus Aure- 
 lius, enthusiastically, "you are a mind-reader! 
 That was just it. How you read my mind!" 
 
 "Then you shot six," said Margaret. 
 
 "No, dear lady !" sighed he. 
 
 "Five, then, Mr. Vaughn," suggested Eleanor. 
 
 "One !" moaned Marcus Aurelius ; and then 
 he collapsed in dismal silence, and perused the 
 table-cloth. 
 
 Margaret dropped her tone of banter now, and 
 sought to console him.
 
 1 84 THE STRANGER 
 
 "But you brought that one to Miss Field, so 
 that she can taste a Southern snipe? Mamma and 
 I have often eaten them. So one will be as good 
 as a dozen." 
 
 "My dear creature !" cried Mr. Vaughn, "how 
 could one bring a single snipe?" 
 
 "But I thank you, all the same, Mr. Vaughn," 
 said Eleanor. "You were very kind to think of 
 me and exert yourself to give me pleasure." 
 
 "My dear lady," responded he, with much emo- 
 tion, "you are too good. I I trust I may here- 
 after succeed in er contributing to your en- 
 joyment." 
 
 The situation was becoming embarrassing and 
 Margaret put a new face on matters by calling at- 
 tention to the fact that Mr. Vaughn had no coffee. 
 
 As they walked from the dining-room to the 
 parlor they heard dogs' growls on the front ve- 
 randa. It was too dark to see the cause of such 
 noises, but they soon understood, when a clear, 
 steady voice cried, "Down, Guard ! Behave your- 
 self, Nero !" and they recognized the voice of Wil- 
 liam Huntley. 
 
 Margaret went forward to meet him. Eleanor 
 and Mr. Vaughn did not hear the first words ex- 
 changed between the two cousins; but as Hunt- 
 ley entered the hall door they saw him hand Mar- 
 garet something dark-colored, dangling from a 
 string, and heard him say, "Here are a few snipe 
 I brought you." 
 
 As Margaret, carrying the birds, passed the 
 other two, Marcus Aurelius stopped her with a 
 nervous inquiry. 
 
 "How how many are there ?"
 
 THE STRANGER 185 
 
 "We'll count them," replied she, and counted. 
 "Twelve." 
 
 "Twelve!" gasped that gentleman. "Huntley, 
 where did you get all these birds?" 
 
 "The most of them in your meadow," answered 
 the other. "I shot five or six on my own land, 
 and then followed down the creek into yours." 
 
 "Why, I I hunted over my bottom for two 
 hours from noon and got one!" 
 
 "That accounts for the scattering of the birds," 
 said Huntley. "I never saw more than two or 
 three near together. What was the matter with 
 you that you bagged so few?" 
 
 "Bad shooting," answered Mr. Vaughn, hon- 
 estly. "I must have fired at least twenty times." 
 
 "It was an off day with you," said Huntley, con- 
 solingly. "We all suffer that misfortune oc- 
 casionally." 
 
 "To be sure," assented Mr. Vaughn, eagerly. 
 "It was an off day with me." 
 
 Margaret now rejoined them, and the four en- 
 tered the sitting-room and seated themselves. 
 
 "Why didn't you come to dinner?" inquired 
 Margaret of her cousin. 
 
 "Well," returned he, "I had a pretty fair dinner 
 at home ; I did not return from shooting till after 
 six o'clock; and you know I have no great fond- 
 ness for dining with people. There are three 
 tolerably good reasons, eh?" 
 
 "Yes," said Margaret, rather dryly. "Three 
 tolerably good excuses." 
 
 "I go to meals to eat," continued Huntley, in- 
 cisively. "When I want people's society and con- 
 versation I seek them elsewhere than at the table.
 
 i86 THE STRANGER 
 
 I have never been able to understand why intel- 
 lectual men and women should set to devouring 
 food when they intend to enjoy the company of 
 one another. It may do very well for animals; 
 but I cannot think that so base an occupation can 
 tend to promote clear thought and elevated senti- 
 ment at the time." 
 
 "Men have to be fed to be got into a good 
 humor," suggested Margaret. 
 
 "Pshaw! You put a gentleman on a footing 
 with a tiger or a hyena." 
 
 "But, my dear creature," put in Mr. Vaughn, "I 
 always feel so much more comfortable and social 
 after a good dinner or supper or breakfast, for 
 that matter. A hungry man is a ferocious animal. 
 Ladies the dear souls are different." 
 
 "Now, Mark," said Huntley, "if the men would 
 eat their meals at home, and shortly before going 
 into society, would they not go to places of meet- 
 ing in the proper frame of mind? And so of the 
 women, if you will admit that they need to be fed 
 in order to be managed." 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested Margaret, "you think 
 that women are not better in such things than 
 men. I confess I like to eat a little while spend- 
 ing a few hours in society." 
 
 "The very worst feature of dinings is the part 
 women take in them. A man is expected to be 
 more or less animal, and therefore one does not 
 much mind even his gluttonizing; but a woman 
 ought to be kept out of connection with such 
 things. I concur in very few of Byron's notions ; 
 but I must admit that I agree with him in dislik-
 
 THE STRANGER 187 
 
 ing to see a woman eat." Huntley spoke, for the 
 first time, with an appearance of seriousness. 
 
 "Dear me!" ejaculated Mr. Vaughn. "I think 
 it the sweetest thing in the world to see a woman 
 pinching and nibbling at food!" 
 
 "L,ike a canary bird hulling one little seed at a 
 time," suggested Huntley, smiling grimly. 
 
 "That's it!" cried Marcus Aurelius with en- 
 thusiasm. "And better than that, for the canary 
 cannot sing while he eats, but lovely woman can 
 chirp and twitter her prettiest notes while oper- 
 ating on the tiny bits she takes !" 
 
 "Operating is good very good very excellent 
 good, as Touchstone says," returned Huntley, 
 laughing. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Mason entered the room, 
 and Eleanor observed the change which at once 
 came over Huntley's countenance. From being 
 hard and somewhat cynical, the expression be- 
 came at once gentle. He responded to her greet- 
 ing "My dear William!" by rising and hastening 
 to meet her. He took one of her hands in one 
 of his, laid his other hand on her shoulder, and 
 kissed her forehead, then seated himself close be- 
 side her, and conversed with her in a low, serious 
 tone. 
 
 "He has not seen your mother lately?" asked 
 Eleanor of Margaret. 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied the latter. "He was here 
 yesterday, just before you and I came from the 
 village. But he always kisses her, both when he 
 meets her and when he leaves her. And he talks 
 more with her than with any one else."
 
 i88 THE STRANGER 
 
 After a time Huntley rose, as if intending to go, 
 but Margaret called to him : 
 
 "William, we have just been discussing crib- 
 bage. Suppose we have a four-hand game?" 
 
 "I shall not object," answered he. 
 
 The board and cards were brought and a small 
 table was rolled out from the wall into the middle 
 of the room. Then the question was raised as 
 to partners. 
 
 "I should prefer Miss Field for my partner," 
 said Margaret, promptly. 
 
 "Then, Mark," said Huntley, "I see nothing 
 for us but to accept the challenge, and see 
 whether two men can beat two women." 
 
 "I I don't know what to say," cried Marcus 
 Aurelius, nervously. "It's very unusual for two 
 men to play against two ladies. It it hardly leaves 
 it allowable for the men to win." 
 
 "Never fear, my boy," returned Huntley. "If 
 Miss Field plays nearly as well as Miss Mason 
 we shall be safe in doing our very best to beat 
 them. You'll have nothing to give away!" 
 
 "Indeed, indeed!" simpered Mr. Vaughn. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. In fact, I must request that you 
 play a bolder game than you have heretofore 
 done, so far as I have seen, or they'll defeat us 
 shamefully." 
 
 "My dear boy," cried Mr. Vaughn, "I shall play 
 a positively murderous one, if you wish it." 
 
 Then they began. Eleanor played rather cau- 
 tiously for a time, being anxious to assist her 
 partner as much as possible, and to study the 
 other players. Margaret took a good many 
 chances, and Huntley played the same kind of
 
 THE STRANGER 189 
 
 game, though hardly as ready to take risks as his 
 cousin. Mr. Vaughn was either timid or rash, 
 and his frequent hesitations and half-audible cal- 
 culations disclosed his hand several times pretty 
 fully to Eleanor, who sat on his left. Once, after 
 having been second in hand two or three times, 
 he held a five until the last. Margaret saw his dis- 
 tress before that, and retained a five, for a specu- 
 lation. At last she played it. Thereupon he 
 showed his card, crying in a tone of triumph, 
 "Ten a pair!" Then Eleanor played her five, 
 and called "Fifteen eight points nine points, 
 as last card !" Mr. Vaughn fell back in his chair, 
 murmuring, "Who could have expected that?" 
 
 The ladies worsted the gentlemen fearfullv, in 
 spite of Huntley's strong game, at once sagacious 
 and courageous. He came near losing his temper 
 several times, but finally contented himself with 
 joking his partner. Marcus Aurelius minded 
 neither reprimand nor jest. He boasted of every 
 temporary gain, and explained away all losses. 
 Eleanor thought she had never met quite so funny 
 a man. He commented more or less on every 
 play. Whenever Margaret scored points he ex- 
 claimed "Dear creature!" when Eleanor scored, 
 he sighed, "My dear lady !" when Huntley scored, 
 it was, "Good for you, dear boy!" when he 
 scored himself he sighed, "Aha!" 
 
 Mrs. Mason was quite as much amused as El- 
 eanor ; but she always took Mr. Vaughn's part, say- 
 ing, "Never mind, Marcus, you will get it right 
 next time," or "Play your hand to suit yourself, 
 Marcus." Mr. Vaughn invariably recognized her 
 kindness by answering, "Thank you, dear Mad-
 
 190 THE STRANGER 
 
 am," or "You are very kind, my dear Mrs. Ma- 
 son," or "You know how to treat a fellow, dear 
 lady!" When he and Huntley went away to- 
 gether he protested that he had the very, very 
 sweetest evening of his life.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Sunday morning Eleanor attended service in 
 the village with Mrs. Mason and her daughter. 
 They heard Dr. Brown, in the Baptist church 
 the Dr. Brown for whose entertainment eggs had 
 been borrowed the day before. The exercises 
 were interesting, and the congregation, though 
 not particularly well dressed, was well behaved 
 and very respectable in appearance. Sarah Ann 
 Jernigan was resplendent in her altered dress and 
 bonnet, and gave Eleanor a bow and a smile. 
 Mrs. Anderson was gracious enough to come to 
 Eleanor after service, and shake hands with her 
 cordially, and Mr. Vaughn fluttered about the 
 ladies in his most airy style. Eleanor saw many 
 men and women stare at her when she entered 
 the church, and felt that most of the latter sub- 
 jected her "git-up," as Mr. Jernigan called it, to 
 severe scrutiny; but while they manifested cu- 
 riosity, no one seemed to treat her very differ- 
 ently from others. On the whole, the morning 
 was pleasantly spent, and in the afternoon, as 
 she insisted upon returning to her own lodgings, 
 Mrs. Mason and Margaret carried her in their 
 carriage to the "dyspeptic household" of Squire 
 Williams. 
 
 The prospect was brighter now. The wall of 
 ostracism and isolation appeared to be crumb- 
 ling. She felt that she was beginning, if not to 
 enjoy the sympathy of the people around her, at 
 least to be allowed a fair showing. The approval
 
 192 THE STRANGER 
 
 of the trustees had given her a sort of respecta- 
 bility; the marked attention of the Masons had 
 satisfied all that she was fit to associate with the 
 best. In a few days her pupils manifested in one 
 way or another her improved standing in the com- 
 munity. They were more respectful in addressing 
 her, more prompt in obeying, more attentive to 
 all she said. She was now restored to health ; and 
 she was made glad by the cheerful letters she re- 
 ceived from home. At her boarding-house she 
 was treated with more and more kindness 
 though she had never anything to complain of 
 there ; and when she met the villagers on the 
 street she was not so much stared at, nor given 
 undue room. Not a few of the men whom she 
 frequently met on her way to and from the school 
 began to lift their hats to her. Even the mothers 
 of pupils adopted a more friendly tone in the brief 
 notes they wrote her about their children. One 
 lady, whom she did not know, addressed her as 
 "My dear Miss Field" ; another, while requesting 
 that her daughter be allowed to discontinue Latin 
 for the present, stated that she was reluctant to 
 interfere with any of her arrangements, but was 
 compelled by the daughter's delicate health, and 
 concluded with the hope that the daughter would 
 before long have the benefit of the teaching of so 
 capable an instructress as Miss Field. And Mrs. 
 Lubeck, the wife of Cherenden's most prominent 
 merchant after Mr. Cogburn, when she came in 
 her carriage one day, to fetch her two daughters 
 to school, alighted at the door and spoke very 
 handsomely of the progress they had made under 
 Miss Field's tuition.
 
 THE STRANGER 193 
 
 But over this suddenly and beautifully clearing 
 sky there soon spread a cloud of much gloom and 
 portent. It had its origin in the following mat- 
 ters. The friction engendered between the white 
 and the black races by the emancipation of the 
 latter became constantly more intense as time 
 went on. Just after the close of the war the de- 
 sire of the whites for peace and the uncertainty 
 of the negroes as to their own political status 
 combined to prevent any collisions between the 
 two races except occasionally, and then only in 
 consequence of purely personal differences. This 
 peace was largely promoted by the system, gen- 
 erally adopted by the officers of military garrisons 
 in the South, for the year 1865, of compelling 
 former masters and former slaves on the farms 
 to enter into contracts in writing, whereby the 
 former covenanted to retain the latter, either as 
 laborers or domestics, and pay them for their ser- 
 vices a certain portion of the year's crop, usually 
 one-third, and the latter covenanted to serve, in 
 consideration of such compensation, until the close 
 of the year. By that time each race came to realize 
 its condition, and was able in a great measure 
 to adapt itself to it. But the negroes asserted 
 themselves more and more, sometimes in harm- 
 less noise-making, sometimes by shirking work, 
 sometimes by what appeared to the whites 
 studied insolence, sometimes by depredations on 
 property, sometimes by robbery and bloodshed. 
 The great body of the colored race conducted 
 themselves quietly and attended to their work 
 with as much diligence as could be expected from 
 13
 
 194 THE STRANGER 
 
 a people of their constitution and antecedents, 
 and the great body of the whites conducted them- 
 selves amicably toward their enfranchised em- 
 ployees. There was, however, in each race a tur- 
 bulent, self-seeking element, consisting, among 
 the whites, of idle, dissolute, often roving men, 
 who insisted upon subjecting the blacks to their 
 absolute dominion; and among the blacks, of 
 sensual, malicious savages who sought to turn 
 life into one gross orgy. These two elements, 
 enemies as they were to both faces and to all so- 
 ciety, received little encouragement from either 
 people, for some time; but, as has usually been 
 the result in such a state of affairs, their actions 
 gradually affected and implicated others of each 
 race, until ill feeling came to be largely estab- 
 lished between the masses on each side. At least 
 it came to pass that the race prejudice was so 
 strong that scarcely any white man cared to pro- 
 cure the punishment of a criminal who confined 
 his misdeeds to negroes, and the negro gave him- 
 self no concern about lawlessness practiced 
 toward the whites. The evil-minded of each race 
 became worse than ever, and an evil disposition 
 grew more general in each race. Finally, each 
 race came to think that there was a complete nat- 
 ural antagonism between the two, that the crime 
 of one member was in a measure the fault of all 
 of his color, that retaliation might be practised 
 without much regard to the means used, or to the 
 particular person affected, just as one army fires 
 at any soldier and every soldier in the opposing 
 ranks. Such a disposition was far from universal 
 on either side. There were a great many white
 
 THE STRANGER 195 
 
 men who were conceded by the negroes to be 
 peaceable, just, and kind to all about them; and 
 there were not a few negroes who were known 
 to conduct themselves with propriety. Indeed, a 
 good many farm-hands and some town domestics 
 remained for years with their former masters as 
 hired servants or tenants. 
 
 The discord between the two races was largely 
 fomented by those Northern men, commonly 
 known as carpetbaggers, whom Horace Greeley 
 so unsparingly denounced, and who flocked to 
 the South soon after the close of the war, to make 
 their fortunes. These adventurers soon saw, if 
 they did not foresee it, that their gains must come 
 through office-holding; they realized that they 
 could never secure any office of value in States 
 controlled by the whites, and that the opportuni- 
 ties for plunder would be many and great among 
 a constituency who owned too little to be robbed, 
 and who were too ignorant to detect a robbery. 
 Such a constituency had to be created out of the 
 African element; and it could not be created, or 
 preserved, except by such conflict between the two 
 races as would keep them completely separated 
 in elections. 
 
 The opportunity afforded by President Johnson 
 for the rehabilitation of the Southern States soon 
 after the cessation of hostilities was not acted 
 upon by the whites in the several States in a man- 
 ner at all satisfactory to the people of the North. 
 The constitutions framed by the several conven- 
 tions composed, in every State, entirely of white 
 men guaranteed to the negro little more than 
 had been provided for him while a slave ; and the
 
 196 THE STRANGER 
 
 statutes soon thereafter enacted by the several 
 State legislatures drew wide distinctions between 
 the two races in every case unfavorable to the 
 negro. 
 
 Northern sentiment now demanded further ac- 
 tion in behalf of the freedmen. The Thirteenth 
 Amendment to the Constitution of the United 
 States had been adopted generally in the South, 
 for that was but the expression of the well-settled 
 fact of emancipation. To secure equal rights to 
 persons of color, the Fourteenth Amendment was 
 passed by Congress in June, 1866. No Southern 
 State properly included in the Confederate States 
 ratified this measure until about the close of the 
 year 1867. In some it was not ratified until 1868. 
 Virginia, Texas, and Mississippi did not ratify it 
 till 1870. These ratifications, except perhaps in 
 Virginia and Georgia, were brought about by 
 the conventions ordered by military governors, 
 for which such orders made negroes competent 
 to vote, and in which they made them qualified to 
 sit, and by legislatures elected by the votes au- 
 thorized by such conventions. In a word, military 
 rulers, backed by the army of the United States, 
 made all male negroes twenty-one years of age 
 voters, in defiance of all legislation until that time 
 of force in the Southern States; such voters 
 elected conventions favorable to the complete en- 
 franchisement of the negroes ; those conventions 
 enfranchised that race ; with their majority, under 
 the management of carpetbaggers and their na- 
 tive white allies (known familiarly as scalawags), 
 and supported by the garrisons in the South, the 
 negroes crowded State legislatures with their
 
 THE STRANGER 197 
 
 own people and their white allies; and thus it 
 came to pass that the lives, liberty, and property 
 of the whites were put at the mercy of negro leg- 
 islatures, a judiciary chosen by such legislatures, 
 and other officers elected directly by the same 
 race. The ratification of the Fifteenth Amend- 
 ment, putting the two races squarely and in terms 
 on the same footing, which was proposed in 1869, 
 was a matter of course with legislatures so con- 
 stituted and so maintained. 
 
 Military Governors had been appointed by the 
 General Government for every State in the South, 
 soon after the close of the war, and garrisons of 
 soldiers were distributed among several points in 
 each State. Civil officers, whether holding over 
 or elected by the whites prior to the enfranchise- 
 ment of the negro, held subject to the power of 
 such rulers, and in some cases were removed from 
 office by them. The farce was ended when Re- 
 construction was inaugurated. Then the negro, 
 manipulated by the scalawag and carpetbagger, 
 themselves the mouthpieces and agents of a vin- 
 dictive majority in Congress, appropriated the 
 Government. Of course the military force be- 
 hind him maintained him in power, as it had pro- 
 moted him to it. Many a Southern white man 
 regretted the abolition of direct military rule, 
 hard and oppressive as it had seemed to him be- 
 fore. 
 
 Exorbitant taxes were levied in most, perhaps 
 in all of the States, almost the whole of which 
 fell upon white men; carpetbag white men, car- 
 petbag negroes (for the North supplied adven- 
 turers of both races), scalawag white men, and the
 
 native negro, divided all the offices and all the 
 public funds among themselves; bonds of the 
 several States were issued amounting to millions, 
 and while the persons now in power appropriated 
 the proceeds of their sale, the property of the 
 former masters of the soil was made to pay the 
 interest coupons on the same as they matured 
 annually. Counties were plunged into debt for 
 current expenses vastly greater than had ever 
 been dreamed of before, and county officials who 
 hitherto had scarcely a decent garment to wear, 
 or a sound pair of shoes to walk in, dressed hand- 
 somely, drove fine horses, and feasted on princely 
 fare. Great public meetings were frequently held, 
 which drew the negro from every corner of the 
 county, to march to martial music, make both 
 day and night hideous with drunken clamor, and 
 listen to harangues inciting them to assert them- 
 selves and avenge any wrong, real or fancied, 
 coming from the whites. In many counties ju- 
 ries were drawn composed almost wholly of ut- 
 terly illiterate field-hands once indeed the trial 
 of four negroes charged with murdering a white 
 watchman and robbing a railroad depot was com- 
 mitted to twelve negroes, not one of whom was 
 able to write the simple verdict "guilty" or "not 
 guilty," or sign his own name. As might be ex- 
 pected, in consequence of such a state of affairs, 
 theft, robbery, violence, and bloodshed among 
 the negroes themselves, and by negroes against 
 whites, becames common, and now and then oc- 
 curred that nameless crime to which the gross 
 animal nature of the negro makes him of all men 
 most prone.
 
 THE STRANGER 199 
 
 The ill will, generally, of the white population 
 toward the blacks which necessarily arose had 
 caused many persons in other parts of the Union 
 to take it for granted that all the combinations of 
 white men which perpetrated violence on negroes 
 were part of a universal secret organization. The 
 fact that negroes were flogged or killed in almost 
 every county in the South, either certainly or 
 probably by white men, gave much color to the 
 accusation, especially when it was considered 
 that the whites had a common cause of complaint. 
 But it was not so. The name Ku Klux, which 
 was first used about 1868, and thereafter was gen- 
 erally employed to denote all white men who com- 
 mitted violence in darkness or in secret, was itself 
 very misleading. There seems to be no reason 
 to believe that the name was ever adopted by any 
 organization, except so far as it was employed by 
 persons here and there for the purpose of threat- 
 ening offensive individuals in particular communi- 
 ties. The very origin of the word or words, if 
 there be two, is extremely doubtful. Various 
 and very dissimilar derivations have been sug- 
 gested. The writer has conjectured that it was 
 derived from the title assumed by, or attributed 
 to, some unknown person in Tennessee, who was 
 said to have presided over some secret organiza- 
 tion formed in the eastern part of that State 
 that title being "Grand Cyclops." It is not clear 
 that there ever was such an organization, or if 
 there was, that it had such an officer; but news- 
 papers white men's newspapers as early as 
 1866, perhaps 1865, published vague pronuncia- 
 mentoes signed with those two words, which were
 
 200 THE STRANGER 
 
 said to have been found at various places. Such 
 writings were evidently intended to scare negroes 
 and their political leaders into carefulness in their 
 courses. There was no general organization, it is 
 safe to assert. All the investigations of the 
 United States Government, all the trials of so- 
 called Ku Klux in five or six States, all the con- 
 fessions of culprits pleading guilty in the courts 
 failed to furnish proof sustaining that theory. It 
 is next to impossible that a hundred thousand 
 men, or more, scattered over five or six States, 
 should have been enrolled in one organization, yet 
 no paper be found indicating the fact, no de- 
 tective be able to ascertain it, no confessing mem- 
 ber venture to assert it. The so-called Ku Klux 
 Klans were the creation of the times and of local 
 trouble. If it had been otherwise, we must be- 
 lieve that the operations would have been differ- 
 ent. A general combination of the white men of 
 the South in one organization for the suppression 
 of the negroes would probably have struck such 
 a decisive blow as was never dreamed of in any 
 land before. That great number, composed of 
 veteran soldiers and the maturing youth, could 
 have slain in a single day or a single night a mul- 
 titude compared with which the massacre of St. 
 Bartholomew's night and the carnage of the 
 greatest battles would appear insignificant. As 
 it was, only a few hundred of the negroes lost 
 their lives during a period of eight or ten years. 
 And such an organization would have cut off the 
 heads of the tallest poppies. As it was, few of 
 the leaders among the negroes were hurt; and 
 the greater part of the victims were stupid, plod-
 
 THE STRANGER 201 
 
 ding creatures, incapable of exercising influence, 
 charged with no offenses, and utterly unknown 
 to the public. In many cases the death of a negro 
 was traced to the hostility of a single white man ; 
 in many, the people of a whole neighborhood 
 were at a loss to conjecture any cause. It was a 
 common complaint among white men that squads, 
 even couples, of rowdies brought blame on the 
 people of a whole section by the killing or whip- 
 ping of poor creatures who had done no harm. 
 
 But it was contended that the whites could pre- 
 vent such violence, or at least bring the offenders 
 to punishment, and that by failing to do either 
 thing, they all became accessories either before 
 or after the fact. Such a view of the case can 
 hardly be argued until one acquaints himself with 
 the circumstances surrounding the native whites. 
 In a sparsely settled country, where a negro's 
 cabin was often half a mile from any other habi- 
 tation, it was rarely that any witness would be 
 present in the dead of the night, especially if the 
 man of the house was called to his door and in- 
 stantly shot by one or two rrien in disguise. 
 Sometimes a man was shot on a highway, and his 
 killing made known only by the rinding of his 
 body the following day. The sound of a gun or 
 pistol caused no inquiry in a land where their dis- 
 charges were frequently heard both by day and by 
 night. Firing was so common on the streets of 
 small towns, that a pistol shot beneath one's win- 
 dow did not always elicit even a momentary in- 
 vestigation. Moreover, it was entirely in keep- 
 ing with human selfishness and human infirmity 
 that the people of one race should concern them-
 
 202 THE STRANGER 
 
 selves little, or not at all, with the injuries suf- 
 fered by another race which was, in one way or 
 another, the cause of all their woes. Few men 
 care so much for justice in general as to provoke 
 the enmity of man-slayers by volunteering to 
 bring them to punishment for wrongs done a 
 troublesome and hostile race. How many white 
 men have interposed between the Mongolian and 
 his persecutors on the Pacific Slope? And how 
 many of them have made an effort to protect the 
 Indian from his enemies? 
 
 But the Congress of the United States decided 
 that wherever (in the South) it appeared that 
 combinations to deprive citizens of their rights 
 or hinder them in the exercise of them were so 
 strong that State authorities could not or would 
 not protect the sufferers, such failure on the part 
 of that State should be considered a "denial" by 
 it "of the equal protection of the laws to which" 
 such "portion or class were entitled under the 
 Constitution of the United States," and accord- 
 ingly, that the President might employ the militia 
 of the State, or the Army and Navy of the United 
 States, for the suppression of such "insurrection, 
 domestic violence, or combinations," and make 
 arrests, and turn over prisoners to the marshal 
 of such district. That legislature further enacted, 
 that wherever such combinations were so powerful 
 as to overthrow or set at defiance "the authorities 
 of the State and of the United States," the Presi- 
 dent might, "when in his judgment the public 
 safety shall require it," suspend the privilege of 
 habeas corpus. There was a proviso that the Presi- 
 dent should first make proclamation "command-
 
 THE STRANGER 203 
 
 ing such insurgents to disperse." This was the 
 Act of April 20, 1871. The Act of May 21, 1870, 
 was of similar scope, except that it did not au- 
 thorize the suspension of the writ of habeas cor- 
 pus. 
 
 White men were occasionally arrested by 
 United States troops, under the Act of 1870. In- 
 deed the troops, under their orders, were to such 
 an extent guardians and promoters of the newly 
 established State Governments, that they pro- 
 tected the persons of State officers, stood sentry 
 over State property, executed State processes of 
 law, and in fact supervised everything in these 
 States, and managed almost everything as suited 
 themselves. Almost all persons arrested per- 
 haps all persons under the foregoing two Acts 
 prior to the close of 1871, were admitted to bail. 
 Some of them were tried late in 1871 and early 
 in 1872; some of these were acquitted, some 
 convicted and sentenced to various terms of im- 
 prisonment, ranging between two or three 
 months and several years. 
 
 The section of country in which Eleanor Field 
 sojourned had been the theater of occasional 
 bloodshed ever since the close of the war, most 
 of the sufferers being negroes some of them 
 prominent in politics, some of them extremely 
 obscure. All the county offices were held by negroes, 
 or white carpetbaggers, or white scalawags. She 
 had no acquaintance with any of these, and had 
 never seen one of them, so far as she knew. 
 Her taste and breeding rendered her averse to 
 such society and it was also her determination to 
 have no connection with any political party or
 
 204 THE STRANGER 
 
 question whatever. Her only associates being 
 among the native whites, she heard very little of 
 public affairs. Cherenden was not the county- 
 seat, and therefore witnessed little of the friction 
 of constant occurrence between the opposing ele- 
 ments. She rarely looked at the county news- 
 paper, but obtained her information of contem- 
 poraneous events from the Boston paper which 
 she took and the daily New York World which 
 Squire Williams received. 
 
 She observed one day, about a fortnight after 
 her visit to Oak Hall, that groups of her pupils 
 were engaged in serious discussion when she ap- 
 proached the schoolhouse, that there was an ex- 
 pression of preoccupation on the faces of the 
 older children during study hours, and that the 
 most of them spent recess in conversation in- 
 stead of play. She made no inquiry of any of 
 them, for it was her principle, as well as her rule, 
 to leave them as free as was consistent with their 
 duties; and they were not less studious or well- 
 behaved than usual. But she felt assured that 
 something unusual, and of somewhat general 
 character, had occurred. And this conviction 
 was materially strengthened by her observance of 
 earnest conferences among the villagers whom 
 she passed on her way home. 
 
 Mr. Williams parried her indirect attempt at 
 dinner to obtain a clue; and she was too regard- 
 ful of his and his wife's kindness and hospitality 
 to press either him or her. 
 
 But she had her answer in a measure, when, 
 sitting at a front window of her chamber later in 
 the afternoon, she saw four armed Federal sol-
 
 THE STRANGER 205 
 
 diers riding with four unarmed white citizens, all 
 on horseback. She had never seen a soldier in 
 Cherenden before, and it occurred to her that 
 these soldiers had just made arrests; and her 
 next thought was, that the arrest of citizens had 
 been begun early that day, or the day before, and 
 had caused the peculiar manner and conversation 
 of her pupils and the villagers. Her heart sank. 
 Here, she thought, comes a woful blight upon 
 the young, fair hope just growing upon me ! 
 Now I shall experience ostracism, suspicion, 
 misrepresentation, tenfold more intense and re- 
 lentless than ever before ; for now, though I am 
 ignorant of what is done, and not connected with 
 these things, I shall be inseparably associated in 
 the minds of these people with every wrong, 
 every persecution which they may suffer or fancy 
 in connection with the imprisonment of their 
 friends and kindred !" 
 
 So she sat, stupefied, until the voice of the serv- 
 ing-woman aroused her. "Miss Mason is down 
 stairs, and wants to know if she can come up 
 here." 
 
 "Certainly," replied Eleanor, rising, and re- 
 covering herself at the thought of seeing the one 
 person of all the world who could and would as- 
 sist her. "Bring her up at once." 
 
 In a few moments the young mistress of Oak 
 Hall entered the room, came straight to Eleanor, 
 and put her arms around her. The teacher's 
 strength gave way, and she laid her head against 
 Margaret's bosom and wept. 
 
 "Never mind," whispered the other, "you will 
 feel very well after a bit. You have over-worked
 
 206 THE STRANGER 
 
 yourself to-day. The May weather of the South 
 is very deceptive it makes one imagine one's self 
 strong and fresh, but it soon relaxes and debili- 
 tates both mind and body." 
 
 "Oh, it is not work or the weather," moaned 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "I know, dear," returned Margaret, gently. 
 "But we shall talk about the unhappy matters 
 going on yesterday and to-day; and I think you 
 will very soon be as brave and steady as ever. 
 Shall we sit on this sofa?" 
 
 "Wherever you please," sighed Eleanor. 
 
 Then Margaret led her friend to the old faded 
 settee against the wall, gently compelled her to 
 sit, then seated herself beside her, put her arms 
 around her and drew her head to her own breast. 
 For a minute neither of them spoke, while the 
 Northern girl wept and the Southern girl soothed 
 her with caressing hands. 
 
 Finally Margaret spoke. "You know that the 
 Federal soldiers have begun to make arrests 
 among our citizens?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "They made the first yesterday three young- 
 men living about five miles from here. They 
 sent out a squad this morning before daylight, 
 and just after sunrise brought in two others from 
 a distance of eight or nine miles. After I came 
 to this house, I learned that four more had been 
 carried past." 
 
 "I saw them from my window." 
 
 "Well, these prisoners are for the present con- 
 fined in the second story of an old store just be- 
 yond the hotel, the ground-floor being occupied
 
 THE STRANGER 207 
 
 by the troops a company of twenty-five or thirty 
 men. I presume the prisoners will be forwarded 
 to jail at the county-seat (the 'court-house,' as we 
 generally call it) pretty soon." 
 
 After a brief pause, Eleanor asked if any of the 
 arrested persons were known to Margaret. 
 
 "I know Mr. Abner Ragwell, who was arrested 
 yesterday the son of a man who was my fa- 
 ther's overseer years ago." 
 
 "Is he a dangerous man?" 
 
 "I have never heard so. He is a loud-talking, 
 swaggering sort of a person; but the worst I 
 have heard against him was William Huntley's 
 description of him as a man with a very large 
 mouth and very little manners. Another one ar- 
 rested is Thomas Brewer, a farmer scarcely 
 twenty-one years of age. I have a slight acquaint- 
 ance with him, resulting from his bringing pea- 
 nuts (pindars, we generally call them), walnuts, 
 and scaly-bark nuts to our house to sell. He in- 
 dulges sometimes in threats to kill, but his homi- 
 cides seem always to end in talk. William was 
 notified two or three years ago that young 
 Brewer had announced his determination to take 
 his life so Mr. Vaughn tells me. William's 
 reply, as Mr. Vaughn loves to tell it, was, 'Let 
 Tom Brewer alone, as I shall. You have no idea 
 what a fine time he has imagining how, at some 
 time, in some way or another, and in some cir- 
 cumstances or other, he might, could, would or 
 should take my life. His chief happiness in life is 
 in imagining such things. Let him enjoy himself!' 
 Mr. Vaughn added, in his most affected tone, 'It
 
 208 THE STRANGER 
 
 was positively sweet to hear the dear boy talk in 
 this generous fashion.' ' 
 
 "Do you suppose this Brewer could hunt up 
 and whip, or shoot, colored people at night?" in- 
 quired Eleanor. 
 
 "I can't venture an opinion. A braggart is 
 generally a coward; and work of that kind be- 
 longs to a coward rather than to a brave man. 
 But I know nothing definite of Thomas Brewer." 
 
 "Has any one near you been arrested?" 
 
 "I think not. I have no doubt that a good 
 many will be." 
 
 "But, perhaps," cried Eleanor, catching at any 
 pleasant solution of the situation, "perhaps this 
 thing is done in terrorem merely, and the men, if 
 not clearly guilty, will soon be set at liberty. 
 Don't you think that may be so?" 
 
 "No," returned Margaret. "I apprehend that 
 arrests will be made indiscriminately and largely, 
 and that most men will be kept in prison for some 
 time. I suppose that, eventually, there will be 
 distinctions made, and only those be prosecuted 
 whose guilt is highly probable. But I am inclined 
 to consider this arrangement a dragnet intended 
 to catch all sorts of men in its reach, to ^care 
 others out of the country, and to excite and keep 
 up universal uncertainty and dread in the coun- 
 ties now placed under the ban by the President, 
 as this one is." 
 
 "But the men can give bond, and get released, 
 can't they?" 
 
 "No; the privilege of habeas corpus is sus- 
 pended by the proclamation." 
 
 "But they will arrest only turbulent, brawling
 
 THE STRANGER 209 
 
 men, or those against whom there are specific and 
 reasonably well-founded charges." 
 
 "I fear not. I hear that one of the prisoners 
 brought in this afternoon is about sixty years of 
 age and decrepit, who never was known to do 
 anything else than stay at home and save money." 
 
 "But gentlemen," persisted Eleanor, "I 
 mean honorable and useful citizens like Mr. Wil- 
 liams, and Mr. Huntley, and Mr. Vaughn, and 
 Colonel Tomlinson they will not disturb them, 
 surely." 
 
 Margaret Mason smiled sadly, and taking El- 
 eanor's hand, said, "My dear Eleanor, we had best 
 face this matter at the outset. There has gone 
 through the North a great and terrible cry of Ku 
 Klux outrages deluging the South in blood. The 
 North demands that the newly enfranchised citi- 
 zen shall be protected, and his wrongs avenged. 
 It is thought there that almost every man here is 
 more or less a party to every wrong-doing of that 
 kind. It is therefore determined to terrify and 
 subdue our people by wholesale arrests and im- 
 prisonment. I should not be surprised to learn 
 to-morrow morning that any one of the four you 
 have named was in prison or all four of them." 
 
 "It is dreadful to think of." 
 
 "It is. But let me proceed to the matter that 
 brought me here. I knew you would find yourself 
 in an unpleasant position; for you would be sure 
 to fear that, though as much a stranger to these 
 troubles as I am, our people would, on the gen- 
 eral principle of association, connect you with 
 their affliction to the extent of entertaining a de- 
 14
 
 210 THE STRANGER 
 
 gree of dislike toward you. Now I am determined 
 that you shall not suffer in this way." 
 
 "God bless you, good Margaret!" cried El- 
 eanor, fervently. 
 
 "You are under no obligation to me for that 
 purpose. It is a plain matter of justice and duty 
 though of course it gives me additional pleas- 
 ure to serve a friend. Now hear me. No one is 
 likely to introduce the subject to you. If any one 
 should, your tact will suggest to you to express 
 your surprise on hearing of arrests (for you did 
 not at all expect them), and your hope that be- 
 fore long we shall have peace and order and har- 
 mony everywhere. Such is your hope, of course 
 however long it may be before you realize it. 
 But you will, probably, not be invited to give your 
 opinion and wishes. What you have to appre- 
 hend is obstinate silence and non-intercourse 
 the form in which Southern communities practise 
 ostracism toward women. You will encounter 
 more or less of this, I must advise you plainly; 
 and I suppose it is very irksome and annoying. 
 But you must pay as little attention to it as pos- 
 sible, whether coming from tradespeople, or ac- 
 quaintances, or patrons, or pupils. You will not 
 be insulted have no fear of that. Some drunken 
 blackguard, or some very coarse woman, may 
 make rude speeches to be heard by you. But you 
 would not, here or elsewhere, care any more for 
 the utterances of such people than you would 
 for the barking of a vicious dog. And I feel sure 
 that you will pay no attention to glum looks, or 
 to dry answers, or to the reserved and perfunc- 
 tory manner of your pupils. I hope I do not of-
 
 THE STRANGER 211 
 
 fend you in offering this probably unnecessary 
 counsel." 
 
 "Oh, no," returned Eleanor. "I am glad to 
 hear you." 
 
 "Well, your own good judgment and your own 
 taste would tell you as much perhaps as I have 
 told you," resumed Margaret; "but I come now 
 to the principal point. You must not allow your- 
 self to be disheartened. I do not mean that you 
 are in danger of failing for lack of courage or for- 
 titude. I feel quite assured of your large endow- 
 ment in both of those qualities. But I do mean 
 that you are in danger of becoming discouraged 
 from making further effort among our people. 
 You have already been troubled. I know it with- 
 out being told. Perhaps I have not done my 
 duty" 
 
 "You shall not say so!" exclaimed Eleanor, ve- 
 hemently, catching her visitor's serious face in her 
 hands and kissing her. "I will not hear you speak 
 one word against yourself my sweet, dear 
 friend!" 
 
 "Well, well," pursued Margaret, taking her 
 friend's hands and holding them for a minute. 
 "But you have suffered, as any high-toned, self- 
 respecting woman would. The sentiments of dif- 
 ferent sections of the country are so unlike, you 
 know. But this is a severe shock to this commun- 
 ity, and a very unexpected one, for all of us re- 
 garded President Grant's proclamation some time 
 ago ordering 'unlawful organizations' to dis- 
 perse as brutum fulmen, having no reference to 
 any one here in particular, however meant. So 
 you must make larger allowances for those whose
 
 212 THE STRANGER 
 
 security is so much disturbed, and, in the case of 
 men, those whose liberty is imperiled, if not al- 
 ready lost. You could train yourself to pity 
 these people, could you not? I believe that your 
 heart is large enough to sympathize in the dis- 
 tresses of mothers, wives, sisters and children of 
 even convicted criminals. I suppose you could 
 pity criminals themselves. And if you can do 
 these things, I am sure you can forgive those who 
 turn from you only because they are suffering at 
 the hands of your compatriots." 
 
 "I certainly commiserate all who suffer or may 
 suffer hereafter from this unhappy state of af- 
 fairs," returned Eleanor. "You are right. I 
 ought to keep myself reminded of the distress so 
 many women and children and old men must en- 
 dure; and shall endeavor to do so, instead of 
 construing their manners or actions by my own 
 selfish standard of comfort." 
 
 "I merely remind you," continued Margaret, 
 "of such things. Hear now the culmination of 
 my theory for you. You must refuse to see any- 
 thing that reflects upon you. I think you will 
 have little trouble at school. If you have, you 
 have . only to notify either William Huntley or 
 Colonel Tomlinson, to procure the necessary sup- 
 port. You must know absolutely nothing about 
 these arrests; you must decline to be informed. 
 Above all things, you must refuse to know any- 
 body connected with them, or to see the place 
 where prisoners are confined. When you are in 
 doubt, do nothing. And remember, at all times 
 and in all circumstances, that I am with you. The 
 strain will not last very long, I trust. With Uncle
 
 THE STRANGER 213 
 
 and Aunt Williams you will have no friction what- 
 ever as you know." 
 
 "I am satisfied on that score," said Eleanor, 
 heartily. "And while I may not be able to do 
 quite as you wish me, I shall remember what you 
 say, and remember you, above all things." 
 
 "So we are at one," said Margaret, rising, "and 
 now we shall go down-stairs and eat some of the 
 strawberries I brought for you and Aunt Wil- 
 liams, supplemented with cake which Jane made 
 yesterday, and forced me to bring you." 
 
 Then the two descended the stairs, ate straw- 
 berries and cream and Jane's cake, talked with 
 faded Mrs. Williams concerning things that in- 
 terested them and all of their kind, and parted 
 just as the sun reached the top of the forest on 
 the western border of the village. 
 
 Margaret Mason's carriage was not well out 
 of sight when two soldiers on horseback, guard- 
 ing a citizen, also on horseback, came riding 
 slowly from that direction. As the three moved 
 at a walk in front of the gate, the man under ar- 
 rest lifted his hat to Mrs. Williams and Eleanor 
 Field, who were still standing on the ground 
 where Margaret Mason had left them. It was 
 Thomas Jernigan.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Eleanor Field had few acquaintances in Cher- 
 enden; but most of the boys, some of the old 
 men, and a few of the young men had gradually 
 come to raising or at least touching their hats 
 when they passed or met her, and perhaps a 
 fourth of the ladies vouchsafed her a perceptible 
 inclination of the head on meeting her alone on 
 the street. The people of small villages, all the 
 world over, have rather a hospitable feeling tow- 
 ard strangers, as industriously as they pick each 
 other to pieces, and where there seems to be no 
 occasion for hostility a newcomer is usually 
 sought after if pleasant in appearance. The 
 teacher's Northern origin had kept many of the 
 citizens from her; but the frequent sight of her 
 handsome figure, graceful carriage, and refined 
 face had gradually softened the whole community 
 toward her, and the cordial mention of her by her 
 pupils and the acknowledgment of parents that 
 she performed her duties agreeably and success- 
 fully, had contributed to inspire every one with a 
 kind regard for her which required only a little 
 more to ripen into as cordial a sentiment as she 
 would have desired. On one occasion, just after 
 meeting old Mrs. Hayblow, the chief fault-finder 
 and she-dragon of the village, she had heard that 
 acid female, who was horribly deaf and therefore 
 spoke loudly, say to her companion, "I declare I 
 believe that Yankee is a downright lady." But 
 from the beginning of the arrests Mrs. Hayblow
 
 THE STRANGER 215 
 
 scorned to concede even the existence of Eleanor 
 Field, except by drawing in her skirts when they 
 passed near each other. The young men now 
 wore a half-angry, half-silly look, and either 
 touched hats in a distant, perfunctory, and pro- 
 testing manner, or else were attracted across the 
 narrow, rough alleys called streets, or else were 
 engaged in setting their watches, or reading 
 something as they walked, or doing something 
 which prevented them from looking at the 
 stranger. There was an old gentleman whom she 
 used to meet almost every morning on her way to 
 school very tall and spare, somewhat stooped, a 
 little unsteady in his gait, who dressed in well- 
 worn black, and wore a much-bruised high silk 
 hat, but whose frayed linen was always spotless 
 white, and his wrinkled boots bright and unsoiled. 
 This aged man lifted his hat the first time he met 
 the teacher, and continued to do so as often as 
 they met ; and he did so most gracefully, showing 
 his long, snow-white hair. The arrests did not 
 change him, only she thought, each morning, that 
 the white head was bent rather lower than the day 
 before, and that the shaking hand found more 
 difficulty in reaching and replacing the hat. One 
 morning, ten days after the arrests began, his hat 
 slipped from his hand. Eleanor hastened to lift 
 it and hand it to him, saying involuntarily, as she 
 did so: 
 
 "Oh! sir, I am so sorry you should have 
 dropped your hat in speaking to me !" 
 
 "Thank you, my child ; and God bless you !" re- 
 plied he, and fell into silent weeping. 
 
 Eleanor's eyes were at once filled with tears as
 
 216 THE STRANGER 
 
 she continued, "You are not well, perhaps. 
 Might I not help you on your way?" 
 
 "Thank you, my dear; it is only an old man's 
 weakness of mind." And then he continued his 
 tottering walk. One of her pupils overtaking her 
 in a few seconds, Eleanor, who had never before 
 asked the name of a citizen, inquired of the child. 
 
 "Oh, that is old Mr. Watson." 
 
 "He seems to be in trouble." 
 
 "Yes'm. He's very poor they say; and him 
 and his wife and his son and his gran' children all 
 live in a little house not far out of the village. 
 An' he has to keep books at Mr. Snorter's store, 
 for a livin'." 
 
 "I'm afraid he receives little pay for that, as 
 Mr. Shorter has only a small confectionery and 
 bakery." 
 
 "Yes'm; but that's better than nothin', you 
 know. His son's got three or four little children, 
 and it takes what he' makes, I s'pose, to keep 
 them goin'. And his son that's Mr. John Wat- 
 son, what was a clerk at Mr. Lubeck's he was 
 'rested and put in jail yesterday." 
 
 "Poor man ! What had he done ?" 
 
 "Done nothin', they say," answered the little 
 girl, with a sigh. "Only put in there 'bout the 
 Ku Klux things." 
 
 The next day, and nearly every day thereafter 
 those two met again, and bowed and spoke to 
 each other as before, but said no more than good- 
 morning except once, when the old man stumbled 
 and dropped his cane just before reaching Eleanor. 
 She ran and picked it up for him. "Thank you; 
 and God bless you, my child !" was his acknowledg-
 
 THE STRANGER 217 
 
 ment; and he looked as if he had derived some 
 pleasure from the stranger's kindness. 
 
 There were fewer young men, or even middle- 
 aged men, about the village after the arrests 
 began; and fewer seemed to come in from the 
 country. In the course of ten days or a fortnight 
 almost the only white persons seen were women 
 and children and the older men. Eleanor saw 
 William Huntley once on horseback, and twice 
 met Mr. Vaughn walking on the street. This 
 gentleman saluted her both times in his gentle, 
 affable manner, and the second time walked with 
 her to Squire Williams's, but left her at the gate. 
 Huntley only doffed his hat in passing at his usual 
 rapid canter on the proud, high-stepping Delta. 
 
 The school-children conducted themselves with 
 their ordinary diligence and propriety. Four of 
 them three of one family, and one of another 
 were taken from school. In the latter case the 
 delicate health of the child was the reason 
 assigned in a note of three or four formal lines 
 from the boy's mother; in the former, nothing 
 was communicated by letter or otherwise. She 
 was compelled only once to refer to the situation 
 among her scholars. A boy about thirteen years 
 of age rather boisterously announced, in the 
 school-room, that Sam Prince had told him to 
 use his geography (the speaker having left his 
 own at home) as he, Sam, was not coming to 
 school that day, in consequence of his intended 
 visit to the county-seat with his father, to see his 
 Uncle George who had been carried to jail there as 
 a Ku Klux. Eleanor suspected a feeler in this 
 unnecessary detail, so she said, very quietly, but
 
 218 THE STRANGER 
 
 with an emphasis unmistakable among her audi- 
 tors, "That will do. Use his book. But, Henry, 
 you will say nothing further in this school about 
 Ku Klux. We have nothing to do here with that 
 matter. I am here to teach ; you to learn ; noth- 
 ing more, nothing less." 
 
 But to silence tongues was one thing, to control 
 restless eyes and expressive faces was quite 
 another. And in those features of childhood 
 Eleanor read, daily and hourly, in the school- 
 room, on the play-ground, and on the streets, 
 things that went to her heart. The very atmos- 
 phere seemed imbued with a sadness which 
 affected everybody. It was most touching in the 
 younger children. The older ones, especially the 
 boys, whose feelings were in great measure the 
 result of information and their own reflections, 
 gave indications of a certain resentment; but the 
 very small folk, who could .know little and reason 
 less, expressed in their wistful faces only dismay 
 and sorrow. No doubt all of the pupils were 
 more gentle because their preceptress was so 
 gentle with them ; for in our early years we adopt 
 in general the manner of those about us. But 
 Eleanor was not aware of any change whatever in 
 her language, or tones, or discipline, and she there- 
 fore attributed entirely to the sadness of the chil- 
 dren the melancholy which had largely its origin in 
 her own sad heart. 
 
 She knew nothing of the guilt or innocence of 
 the men who were carried to prison; indeed, she 
 had no acquaintance with any of them except the 
 young farmer Jernigan and two or three clerks in 
 village stores, and of them she knew very little.
 
 THE STRANGER 219 
 
 But those men were all mild and modest in their 
 bearing, and she could not think them perpetra- 
 tors of midnight outrages on peaceable negroes. 
 Three or four of the prisoners of whom she had a 
 glance as they were marched past her on the 
 street were untidy, ill-favored, scowling men; 
 but so far as she knew, even these persons might 
 be only poor and ignorant plowmen whose hard 
 labor and exposure to the weather had rough- 
 ened their faces and figures. But were the pris- 
 oners themselves ever so depraved, ever so de- 
 serving of punishment, her large heart, always in- 
 clined to the side of the unfortunate, pitied them, 
 and hoped that they all might be found guiltless. 
 The saddest places of all were the churches. 
 Eleanor attended service at least once every Sun- 
 day. She was glad to see, at the Methodist 
 church, on the first Sunday after the arrests 
 began, that her presence excited no open com- 
 ment. It had been her custom from childhood to 
 sing at service, and she had done so invariably at 
 Cherenden, when she could secure a book, or re- 
 call the hymn for she had learned a great many 
 hymns at home. She possessed a clear, pure 
 mezzo-soprano voice of considerable compass and 
 sweetness, and she had cultivated it with care. 
 She insisted always on the leading of the music by 
 the choir, no matter how poor, and she adhered to 
 her theory in Cherenden in spite of the wretched 
 straggling and discord that characterized the per- 
 formances in that village. But while she sang in 
 subordination to the official hymn-rendering, she 
 did so so accurately, sweetly, and earnestly that 
 many a little girl near her was encouraged to add
 
 220 THE STRANGER 
 
 her immature voice, and not a few ancient dames 
 in- neighboring pews were excited to employ in 
 their Maker's praise shrill pipes which had long 
 been in disuse. After the arrests began she was 
 doubtful of the propriety of obtruding her voice 
 on one of these congregations. But she ventured 
 and she was well repaid; for after a sort of hush 
 around her, and a turning of eyes upon her which 
 she felt rather than saw, one, two, three, half-a- 
 dozen or more, first a little girl of eight years, 
 then an old grandmother, the mothers of all ages, 
 joined in with feeling, till Northern woman and 
 Southern woman lifted their voices in harmonious 
 accord to the Father of all peoples. 
 
 But every foot of ground in this human terri- 
 tory had to be fought over, and fought over more 
 than once. It was like wading through water 
 which the foot can displace even in a rapid cur- 
 rent, but which flows on again as soon as that 
 temporary obstacle is removed. Or it was like 
 beating the air the air yields to any pressure, but 
 the moment the hand is withdrawn the elastic fluid 
 pours into its former place. 
 
 The school had to be managed by special effort ; 
 the church had to be influenced by special effort; 
 the people in shops had to be conciliated by special 
 effort every one whom she met required a special 
 effort on her part. And such effort had to be, in 
 some degree, repeated at every meeting with any of 
 the inhabitants. 
 
 The trial was too frequent and too long. Brace 
 her nerves as she would, summon her courage as 
 she might, bring her reason and her sympathizing 
 heart to bear upon the situation as conscien-
 
 THE STRANGER 221 
 
 tiously as she could, the pressure became almost 
 unendurable, and many a time she could scarcely 
 repress, even in the presence of others, a shriek of 
 agony. Nor was the suffering confined to her 
 waking hours. In her dreams she struggled with 
 trouble tenfold more dreadful than the reality 
 about her, and often in one night she seemed to 
 experience a lifetime of ostracism, slander, perse- 
 cution, and violence. 
 
 Once she wrote to her friend Mrs. Meacham, 
 and received a very kind answer, begging her for 
 a few days' visit, for rest and recuperation; but 
 there was not a suggestion of any practical value. 
 Her friend was accustomed to isolation from the 
 inhabitants, so she saw in the present state of 
 affairs nothing for a Northern woman sojourning 
 in the South. She could not consent to afflict her 
 mother and the rest at home with at all a full 
 account of what she saw and heard, still less of 
 what she felt. They therefore understood that 
 nothing more was going on than the arrest, now 
 and then, of some negro-beater or negro-mur- 
 derer who ought to have been brought to justice 
 long before. And thinking thus, they naturally 
 offered no advice or suggestion. Finally she 
 wrote to Rachel Norton. It was a shot in the 
 dark, but Eleanor had always a high respect for 
 that Puritan woman's intelligence and character, 
 and she hoped for some suggestion that might 
 prove serviceable. She wrote Miss Norton all 
 she knew and a great deal of what she thought 
 and felt, enjoining her, however, to make no men- 
 tion of the letter to her mother, or sister, or
 
 222 THE STRANGER 
 
 brother. She awaited patiently the reply, assured 
 that one would come. 
 
 The unfairness of women to" members of their 
 own sex has excited, and no doubt will excite, the 
 amazement of men in all ages and localities of the 
 world. It seems totally irreconcilable with the 
 gentleness and compassion which distinguish 
 women. A woman who will sigh over the worst 
 criminal brought to punishment, who will deal 
 tenderly with a thieving tramp or an isolent street 
 beggar, who will interpose to defend a disobedient 
 dog from merited flogging, will put the best per- 
 son of her sex on the rack of inquisitorial scrutiny, 
 will entertain almost any suspicion against her 
 friend and neighbor, and will shut off all her sym- 
 pathies from, and usually decline to allow bare 
 justice to any stranger female. Women can 
 become wonderfully loving with new associates of 
 their sex on very short acquaintance; but till 
 there is some sort of bond fixed between them 
 there is nearly always a state of very stern non- 
 intercourse, if not petty, distant warfare. 
 
 Eleanor Field's life in Cherenden had been not 
 only blameless, but highly honorable. All who 
 became acquainted with her admitted her worth. 
 So far as the circumstances allowed, she had made 
 friends. Yet to the female world there, outside 
 of the small circle she moved in, it was apparent 
 to her that she was the object of peculiar dislike. 
 And it was only what she had expected. Now 
 this antipathy became more marked; and not 
 because any woman of the village suspected that 
 she was less worthy than before, nor because any 
 one suspected her of any complicity in the pro-
 
 THE STRANGER 223 
 
 ceedings of the civil and military authorities. 
 Men were prejudiced against her because she was 
 a Yankee. When those who were thrown with 
 her found her to be an intelligent, accomplished 
 and ladylike Yankee, they became kindly disposed 
 toward her, and when those who did not make her 
 acquaintance saw that she was dignified in her 
 manners and correct in her life they ceased to 
 have any objection to her. With women, how- 
 ever, the case was different. When they knew 
 she was a Yankee they set themselves against her, 
 in a general, scornful way ; when they saw that she 
 was a handsome and graceful Yankee they con- 
 ceived a positive dislike for her ; when they found 
 that she maintained her dignity and independence 
 they thought her a very insolent person. When 
 the United States Government set to arresting 
 citizens they made up their minds that she was an 
 intriguing politician, harpy, spy, anything that 
 was odious. They did not wait for proof; they 
 did not want proof; the thing was to them self- 
 evident. She could not show that she was here 
 for any good. Teaching was only a pretense. 
 Of course no woman of any account would come 
 all this distance for forty dollars a month. If so, 
 how did she get that mauve-colored silk gown? 
 Or that bonnet? Or those gloves? And why 
 was she seen walking so often, and always alone? 
 Once when a man suggested that Yankees re- 
 quired fresh air and exercise, like other people, 
 the retort was that the speaker a yellow, shriv- 
 eled person who lay all day on a lounge reading 
 novels did not have to walk the roads. When 
 it was said that she had never been seen to com-
 
 224 THE STRANGER 
 
 municate with the soldiers, or with any other per- 
 sons except the white citizens, it was answered 
 that no one knew what letters she wrote. When 
 it was stated that she would only injure herself by 
 taking sides against her patrons, it was asked who 
 knew but she received hundreds of dollars for giv- 
 ing information? One old crone was considered 
 by her younger sisters to have settled the argu- 
 ment when she reasoned that there had been no 
 arrests till after this stranger came, but that the 
 arrests began soon after her arrival. "But," pro- 
 tested a man, "she was here more than three 
 months before a man was arrested." This invin- 
 cible old creature was thought to have demolished 
 that objection by saying, with a sage shake of the 
 head, that three months was not such a mighty 
 long time as some young men thought it. The 
 logic of the female mind was about this -that the 
 presumption is always very decidedly against a 
 strange woman, especially if she is young and 
 handsome; that the favorable opinion of men 
 only fortifies that presumption, because "men 
 know nothing about women" ; that a dignified 
 and reserved demeanor is proof positive of a 
 proud, overbearing and cruel nature, while concil- 
 iatory manners are irrefragible evidence of craft 
 and hypocrisy ; that women go to new places only 
 to catch men, while those who stay at home are 
 free from all designs ; that Yankee women are too 
 smart and mischievous to be trusted, anyhow. 
 
 But whatever the reasoning they happen 
 upon which is owing entirely to circumstances 
 the mass of women are set against strange 
 women. It seems to be part of their nature,
 
 THE STRANGER 225 
 
 They resemble the irrational animals which attack 
 every newcomer of their kind. We see it daily, 
 hourly, often several times in an hour, on the 
 street-car or railway. All women expect it. 
 When the new woman comes into the car, she sits 
 erect, with eyes to the front, and staring into 
 vacancy, as much as to say, "Here I am ; proceed 
 to pick me to pieces" which is accordingly done. 
 At the end of five minutes the new arrival with- 
 draws her eyes from space, turns them upon her 
 fellow-travelers, and forthwith goes to analyzing 
 every one of them. When another woman enters 
 one conveyance, the former one joins her late 
 critics and assists in investigating this one. 
 When a woman goes to a strange town she recog- 
 nizes the necessity of the most rigorous circum- 
 spectness on all occasions and in every company, 
 until she becomes fairly incorporated with the 
 society of the place. She knows that she may 
 safely be natural with men; but she knows that 
 she must be always on her guard with women, 
 and that the most trivial indiscretion, the most 
 trifling mistakes in dress, speech, act, or manner, 
 will be snatched up, harped upon, and handed 
 round with merciless industry. The reason of all 
 this is probably to be found in a regulation of na- 
 ture not so unreasonable when tested by its 
 general effect. The sphere of woman is passive 
 rather than active ; her destiny is to maintain vir- 
 tue, propriety of action and refinement of man- 
 ners, rather than to perform great deeds; she is 
 the conservator of good things, not their creator ; 
 and she is therefore to guard against all sorts of
 
 226 THE STRANGER 
 
 people and elements to an extent not demanded 
 or expected of men. In order to perform this 
 defensive part it is necessary for her to weigh, 
 examine, scrutinize every new person who ap- 
 proaches her social circle, and refuse recognition 
 to every one of her sex until she gives proof of 
 worthiness to enter and move there. 
 
 It has been stated that Eleanor Field had 
 made some progress toward the conciliation of 
 the female world at Cherenden before the Ku 
 Klux arrests began. Unfortunately, she had only 
 begun to mollify the opinion of her sex. She had 
 acquired no positive footing. Wherefore, when 
 they discovered the fresh, and to their minds po- 
 tent, objection to her, arising out of the arrests 
 made by her government, as they called it, among 
 their people, the door which had been reluctantly 
 opened a hand-breadth to her was positively 
 slammed in her face.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 But the measure of Eleanor's trouble seemed 
 never full. There was, it appeared to her, a daily 
 accession to the host of annoyances that beset her; 
 for almost daily there was some person who 
 looked or acted less agreeably than before, or 
 there was some occurrence at the school, or in the 
 shops, or in her walks, or at church that brought 
 out a new phase of the silent popular opposition. 
 In the midst of these accumulations there sud- 
 denly sprang up one, in a quarter where it was 
 least expected, and whence indeed she had ven- 
 tured to look for some little relief. 
 
 Four days after posting the letter to Rachel 
 Norton, she was composing her mind with a novel 
 one afternoon, when the negress of all work, the 
 garrulous Nancy, entered, carrying a sealed en- 
 velope. Eleanor recognized it as one used by 
 telegraph companies and she took it in intense 
 apprehension. Always averse to displaying her 
 feelings before strangers or servants, she held it 
 unopened for a moment, while she inquired, in as 
 steady a voice as she could command, whether 
 there was any charge. The woman replied in the 
 negative, and after pausing a second or two, left 
 her alone. Then Eleanor opened and read. 
 
 It was dated at the village nearest her home, 
 and addressed to "Eleanor Field, Cherenden," 
 and it read, "I am coming to see for myself. 
 Rachel Norton." 
 
 Eleanor sprang to her feet. She read the
 
 228 THE STRANGER 
 
 words again and again. She held the writing 
 near; she held it far off. She rubbed her eyes, 
 and reexamined it. She laid it down and walked 
 across the room; she returned and reread it. 
 The words were always the same as unchang- 
 ing as Rachel Norton's face or dress. Certainly 
 it was Rachel Norton's purpose to come to Cher- 
 enden. No doubt she was already on the way. 
 That terrible old Puritan, who had no friends at 
 home, was coming to Eleanor Field in the midst 
 of her enemies. That person who had no con- 
 ception of the word compromise, but fancied it to 
 be the synonym of surrender; who understood 
 conciliation to mean only flattery and falsehood; 
 who had no heroes nor heroines except those who 
 either beat their enemies into submission or died 
 the death of martyrdom; that dreadful creature 
 was coming here to hang herself like a millstone 
 around the neck- of the young woman already 
 drowning in a sea of embarrassment and griefs. 
 
 "God help me ! God help me !" she exclaimed, 
 and fell upon a chair, half blind and altogether 
 crushed. 
 
 She recovered before any one came to her 
 after how long a time she never knew; and she 
 found the telegram lying on the floor beside her, 
 the evening sun scarcely advanced beyond the 
 point in the heavens where she had last seen it. 
 Almost instantly the thought came to her, "I must 
 go to Margaret Mason." 
 
 Without delay she donned her hat, seized her 
 sun-shade and gloves, and hurried out of the 
 room, and into the street. She had not proceeded 
 half a mile before she began to regret her haste.
 
 THE STRANGER 229 
 
 How could she explain to Margaret? What 
 could Margaret Mason do, or say, that would 
 help her? Was it not selfish to make such a call 
 on her friendship? Why should she not go back, 
 and await her fate, or run away, or do anything to 
 get out of her difficulties? But to each self-ad- 
 dressed interrogatory there came the single 
 answer "Margaret has offered to stand by me. 
 Margaret Mason never fails to will and do what is 
 good and brave and wise!" So she went on, 
 faster and faster, repeating this short creed in 
 answer to every doubt and every fear. 
 
 When she reached the Mason residence it was 
 just ten minutes past five. Jane answered her 
 ring of the door-bell. 
 
 "Well, I jis' 'clare, Miss Eleanor," exclaimed 
 the woman, chuckling heartily, "you jis' pick up 
 yo' foot in yo' han', and come out here, lookin' 
 as fresh as if you come outer a ban'-box !" 
 
 Eleanor, attempting to speak without agitation, 
 inquired for her young mistress. 
 
 "I'm mighty sorry," returned Jane; "but Miss 
 Marg'ret done rid down to de bottom half a hour 
 ago. But old Miss is home." 
 
 Eleanor agreed to have "old Miss" notified. 
 She declined to enter the house, but sat on a 
 rustic chair on the veranda. Presently Mrs. 
 Mason appeared, and made her very welcome, 
 kissing her with her customary grave emphasis. 
 
 The conversation was desultory and unsatis- 
 factory to both of them. Mrs. Mason knew that 
 Eleanor had not come to see her, and knew that 
 she had come on business of an urgent nature. 
 Eleanor saw that Mrs. Mason was perplexed, yet
 
 230 THE STRANGER 
 
 was unwilling to make inquiries which might not 
 appear altogether courteous. So the two spent 
 fifteen or twenty minutes in idle talk about the 
 weather and flowers, every minute becoming 
 more tedious than its predecessor. Finally, the 
 situation became so distressing to the teacher that 
 she was making preparation for departure, when 
 she heard Margaret's voice in the hall, giving 
 some order to a servant. In a minute the young- 
 mistress of the house stepped on the veranda, in 
 her riding-habit. Her first glance at the visitor 
 evidently revealed to her that something unusual 
 had occurred, for she paused an instant in her 
 progress and then walked rapidly to Eleanor and 
 took her face between her hands, saying aloud, 
 "You have afforded me a delightful surprise," and 
 whispering in her ear, "Never mind just now. We 
 shall drive directly ; and you can then tell me all." 
 After that the two took seats near Mrs. Mason, 
 and talked about nothing. 
 
 In a few minutes Scipio announced that the 
 carriage waited at the side door. Mrs. Mason 
 declined Margaret's invitation to accompany 
 them, but invited Eleanor to spend the night with 
 them. Eleanor thanked her, but said it would be 
 necessary for her to be at Mr. Williams's. Then 
 the older lady kissed the younger one, and ex- 
 pressed the hope that she would come to them 
 whenever she thought she might relish a day or 
 night among the oaks. 
 
 The two young ladies had hardly started in the 
 carriage when Eleanor cried : 
 
 "How could you know so much about the cause
 
 THE STRANGER 231 
 
 of my visit? And how did you happen to come to 
 my relief as you did?" 
 
 "Ah," replied Margaret, "mamma saw that you 
 had something serious on your mind, and at once 
 dispatched a boy on horseback for me. I sus- 
 pected trouble when I received the message, so I 
 ordered the carriage before I saw you. Now tell 
 me, while John takes the long drive to Cheren- 
 den." 
 
 Then Eleanor Field told her trouble, as briefly 
 as she could, and without reserve. To her 
 amazement, Margaret laughed, and for a moment 
 she felt hurt, and showed it in her face. 
 
 "Now," cried Margaret, "I must crave your in- 
 dulgence for a minute or two. As you outlined 
 with your graphic stroke that stony-faced and 
 antique woman, I could see her before me, and I 
 could also see the stolid stare she would give you 
 and me and all the world down here." 
 
 Eleanor herself was forced to smile when the 
 vision of the New England spinster presented 
 itself to her mind amid these surroundings. 
 "But," resumed Margaret, quickly, and seriously, 
 "you need not feel uneasy. I shall take charge of 
 Rachel Norton the moment she reaches Cheren- 
 den or rather, when she lands at the station." 
 
 "You!" exclaimed Eleanor. "What on earth 
 have you to do with her? She may insult you." 
 
 "Not she," returned Margaret, cheerfully. "I 
 shall meet her at the station. I shall introduce 
 myself to her, shall explain why you are not there 
 (for it will be during school-hours), shall carry her 
 to the hotel where she will wish to go, of 
 course shall pay no attention to her silence or
 
 232 THE STRANGER 
 
 dry speech, and shall satisfy her, if she is as intelli- 
 gent as you think her, that I can assist her in 
 accomplishing the object of her visit." 
 
 "She is a hard woman, Margaret. I mean she 
 is stern, slow of thought, slow of apprehension, 
 and set in all her opinions." 
 
 "Never mind. It is enough for me to know that 
 she is your friend who is coming a great distance, 
 at no little inconvenience to herself, to help you. 
 That makes a bond between us, which she will 
 soon understand. Leave all the rest to me. I 
 shall come by Uncle Williams's after depositing 
 her with Mrs. Anderson, whom, before then, I will 
 tell about her, and give you a report of all that 
 passes between us." 
 
 Eleanor's protests and cautions produced no 
 effect on her friend. The plan, formed in an in- 
 stant, was not to be affected by the hour's discus- 
 sion they had. In vain were the hard features, 
 the rough voice, the fixed stare of the eyes, the 
 poke bonnet and the wide-skirted bombazine 
 gown depicted. Finally, Eleanor had to admit 
 that it would prove a curious and exciting expe- 
 rience for her friend, and let her have her way. 
 
 They passed quite around the village in pursu- 
 ing the long way, coming into it by a road never 
 yet traversed by Eleanor, and soon they passed an 
 unsightly wooden two-story building, before which 
 a soldier sentry paced, while five or six soldiers 
 lounged about the door. 
 
 "That," said Margaret, "is the abandoned store- 
 house where the prisoners are confined until for- 
 warded to the county jail." 
 
 Eleanor remarked that it was a dismal place.
 
 THE STRANGER 233 
 
 "Yes; it was one of the first houses erected in 
 the village somewhat more than a century ago. 
 People gradually built higher up on the ridge; 
 and at last the old shell was left alone, to blacken 
 and decay." 
 
 As the carriage ascended the slope of the ridge 
 and approached the Anderson Hotel a soldier 
 wearing lieutenant's insignia descended the side- 
 walk within a few feet of them. Margaret bade 
 the diriver stop, and addressed the officer. 
 
 "I presume you are the lieutenant in com- 
 mand." 
 
 "Yes, Miss," answered he, lifting his cap.. 
 "Can I serve you in any way?" 
 
 "I am Miss Mason," said Margaret. "I have 
 sent two or three baskets of vegetables and other 
 provisions to citizens under arrest ; and I am glad 
 to learn that you have seen to the proper delivery 
 of the articles. I thank you." 
 
 The officer saluted again, and said, "I am glad 
 to make them as comfortable as my orders and 
 the means at hand will permit." 
 
 "I took the liberty of stopping you," pursued 
 Margaret, "partly to thank you for such consider- 
 ation, and partly to inquire whether there is any 
 one of your men to whom I should direct a ser- 
 vant to go with anything I may send hereafter." 
 
 "Have your messenger to inquire for me, first. 
 If I am at barracks I will see to the matter myself. 
 If I am reported absent, have the sergeant of the 
 guard, who is always on duty, notified. If he 
 should happen to be out of the way at the mo- 
 ment, the corporal will see that anything you 
 send is delivered to the proper person or persons.
 
 THE STRANGER 
 
 I shall issue directions about it as soon as I reach 
 barracks." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 All three bowed, and John drove on. After 
 half a minute, Eleanor said, "I think that officer 
 was much pleased to be so courteously addressed 
 by you but he was evidently surprised." 
 
 "He looked so," returned Margaret, placidly. 
 "I wanted to show him that I appreciated his 
 kindness in having the things I sent Mr. Jerni- 
 gan and three or four others delivered to them 
 promptly as John reported to me he did; and 
 I also wanted to make sure of any future supplies 
 receiving the like attention. William Huntley, 
 or Mr. Vaughn, or even Uncle Williams, may be 
 incarcerated there any day." 
 
 "Surely not!" exclaimed Eleanor. "None of 
 them can be Ku Klux !" 
 
 "No," replied Margaret; "but several men, 
 probably as innocent as they, have been arrested." 
 
 "Men generally believed to be quite guiltless?" 
 
 "Yes. They have at the county-seat now as 
 gentle and harmless a lad as lives in the county 
 scarcely fifteen years old." 
 
 "What charge is there against him?" 
 
 "We do not know, nor does he. No infor- 
 mation is given, no warrants are exhibited. No 
 prisoner knows for what crime, or on whose infor- 
 mation or complaint, he is arrested. Two, three, 
 or half a dozen soldiers go to one's house, or 
 meet him on the road, and inquire if he is so-and- 
 so, and on his answering in the affirmative they 
 tell him they are sent to arrest him, and so they 
 proceed to do. Sometimes they take one who
 
 denies his identity with the person they inquire 
 about. Sometimes they prove correct, sometimes 
 he does. A few days ago a corporal and his file 
 brought a man from ten miles in the country, de- 
 spite his denial of being the Jared Muller they 
 sought. He was proved, after coming here, to be 
 one Henry Walker. Then he was set free with 
 the very sufficient explanation that he was sup- 
 posed to be the man they wanted, as he looked 
 rather like that person." 
 
 "But does this lieutenant authorize the men to 
 do such things?" 
 
 "He probably knows as little about it as you or 
 I. I hear that he receives a list of names of per- 
 sons to be arrested. His duty is to arrest them, 
 and send them forward. I hear no complaint of 
 him. On the contrary, he is said to be very polite 
 to his prisoners, and to allow them every privilege 
 he can consistently with his orders." 
 
 "This is terrible," cried Eleanor. "I do not 
 wonder at the feeling against everything and 
 everybody that comes from the North." 
 
 "No," said Margaret. "It is very wrong for 
 them to generalize in that fashion. Not many in- 
 telligent persons do so. But I agree with you, 
 that it is not strange that ignorant men and 
 women especially women associate people and 
 things in that loose way. But cheer up. This 
 will not last always. Let us see whom we are 
 about to meet." 
 
 Three school-girls passed on the sidewalk. 
 The two ladies bowed to them, and the children, 
 after a moment's stare, returned the greeting. 
 Then they passed a group of old men. These also
 
 236 THE STRANGER 
 
 stared, but lifted their hats. Then they met the 
 Widow Hayblow. She stopped to have her stare ; 
 and returned Margaret's salutation with a puzzled 
 expression. Eleanor did not look at her except 
 from the corner of her eye. Mrs. Anderson was 
 standing on the steps of the hotel. She hailed 
 them with a hearty "Good evening." They met 
 or passed several others, all of whom indulged in 
 a more or less prolonged examination of the open 
 carriage and its'occupants; but all spoke. Lastly, 
 as they left the business portion of the village, 
 they encountered Mrs. Lubeck, drawn by two 
 very tall, slim horses, and spread out in a volumi- 
 nous pale blue silk gown. She already had her 
 pince-nez on the Mason carriage when they came 
 abreast, but gave the occupants a stately bend 
 of the head. 
 
 Margaret left her at Mr. Williams's gate, after as- 
 suring 'her that she would meet the train the next 
 day, and every day thereafter until Jane Norton 
 arrived.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Two days later Eleanor Field found Margaret 
 at Squire Williams's when she came from school. 
 Margaret joined her as soon as she entered the 
 house, walked to her room with her, and closed 
 the door after them. The rest of the household 
 safely shut off, Margaret burst into a peal of 
 laughter. 
 
 "Whatever is the matter with you?" asked 
 Eleanor, at a loss. 
 
 "She's come! She's here!" cried Margaret. 
 "It's the drollest experience in the world." 
 
 "Miss Miss " stammered Eleanor. 
 
 "Miss Rachel Norton! And I have had a time 
 of it. Such fun !" and then she laughed again. 
 
 "I am glad you can speak so cheerfully of it," 
 said Eleanor, much relieved, and joining in the 
 laugh in pure sympathy. "But what does she 
 look like? What does she say? How is she? 
 Where is she? 
 
 "Oh, dear," cried Margaret, "don't ply me with 
 so many questions. It is quite enough for any 
 one of the least imagination to say that she is 
 here." 
 
 "Wrinkled, tired, dusty, smoky, stern and anti- 
 quated!" suggested Eleanor, as the vision of the 
 grim Puritaness rose before her mind. 
 
 "Antiquated is not the word for it," returned 
 Margaret. "She's antique. She was old before 
 Plymouth Rock was heard of. She is Methuse- 
 lah's great-great-grand-aunt. She is the one relic
 
 238 THE STRANGER 
 
 of the antediluvian world. I believe she was 
 petrified before Adam was created. She belongs 
 to the pre-historic race." 
 
 "And her umbrella, was it blue?" 
 
 "It was, no doubt, in former ages ; at present 
 it shows all the colors from the black lines along 
 the ribs to the nearly white folding at the top. 
 But I'll tell you all about it. I met her at the 
 station. I asked if she was Miss Norton. She 
 said she was. I told her that her friend and my 
 friend, Miss Eleanor Field, was engaged in her 
 school, and I had come to carry her to the village. 
 Before I had time to give my name she asked who 
 I was. I gave her my name. I then called for 
 her checks, gave them to a drayman, took her 
 arm, led her off the platform, put her into the 
 carriage, and drove off before she could protest, 
 argue, or even ask a question. The first thing she 
 could say, as John whirled us along the road, was, 
 'Where am I going to ?' uttered with a sort of gasp. 
 I told her to Cherenden, more than a mile away. 
 Then I took advantage of the position to tell her all 
 sorts of things about you, and to inform her that 
 I was carrying her to my home. Here she re- 
 belled, and told me resolutely that she was going 
 to a hotel. So I yielded, and carried her to Mr. 
 Anderson's. I had previously told Mrs. Ander- 
 son about her which prevented any surprise or 
 friction. I went to her room at the hotel. I 
 talked to Clarissy about what she was to do, or- 
 dered ice-water, raised the window-sashes, threw 
 open the shutters, waited for her lugerage, saw it 
 brought to her room, told her you would come to
 
 THE STRANGER 239 
 
 her this afternoon and left her staring and 
 dumb." 
 
 "Did she appear at all alarmed?" 
 
 "Not she only a little dazed. She seemed 
 more afraid of negroes than all else. Did she 
 ever see one before?" 
 
 "I think so. We have none in our neighbor- 
 hood, but she was once in the South years ago." 
 
 "She looked at them. I saw her crane her 
 body a good deal to get a sight of John, who, you 
 remember, is very black. As we entered the 
 village we passed a wagon full of field-hands, men 
 and women. She stared at them with much 
 curiosity." 
 
 "Well, what is to be done now?" inquired 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "You will go to see her this afternoon, of 
 course. Leave her at the hotel. Tell her what 
 you know and think. To-morrow I shall come to 
 town and see her. Try to get her into the frame 
 of mind to come out and stay with us a day or 
 two." 
 
 "With you ?" cried Eleanor. 
 
 "Why, yes. I know what I am about. Let me 
 see. Day after to-morrow is Friday. I want to 
 carry you and her home that afternoon, to spend 
 a day or so with us. Lead her toward the point. 
 I will give her the invitation to-morrow." 
 
 Then they separated, Margaret going home at 
 once. 
 
 Eleanor went to the 'hotel immediately after 
 dinner. There she found Miss Rachel Norton, 
 sitting in her room, reading the Bible. There 
 was no display of feeling between them Eleanor
 
 2 4 o THE STRANGER 
 
 knew she could not venture, and Rachel Norton 
 could not make such manifestations if she desired. 
 They shook hands; Eleanor took a seat and 
 asked after the people and things at home; Miss 
 Norton answered all questions to the best of her 
 ability; and then a silence ensued, during which 
 Miss Norton resumed her reading of the ngth 
 psalm. 
 
 Eleanor was a patient and self-possessed 
 woman, but she was of too ardent and energetic 
 a temperament to endure delay when there 
 seemed to be no need of it. So, after allowing 
 her friend to get through three or four of the 
 subdivisions of the psalms, she spoke. 
 
 "Miss Norton, may I speak to you concerning 
 the matter that brought you here?" 
 
 "To be sure," answered the old lady, laying the 
 book across her knees. 
 
 "You have been very good in coming to see 
 us" 
 
 "Now, child," cried Miss Norton, "I must tell 
 you that I did not come entirely on your account. 
 I have been curious a long time to know how they 
 live and do down here now, and I thought this was 
 about as good a time as I could ever have. Now 
 go on." 
 
 "I am afraid that you selected a very bad time 
 for a tour of investigation. But you are here, 
 and I shall take great pleasure in giving you any 
 information I can. You talked somewhat with 
 Miss Mason." 
 
 "She talked," returned the spinster shortly. "I 
 didn't say twenty words. She is & yery 
 young woman."
 
 THE STRANGER 241 
 
 "Yes; and she is as intelligent and as good as 
 she is handsome. She has been very kind to me." 
 
 "Did you know her before? Is she kin to you? 
 Have you done anything for her? Did you have 
 any recommendation or introduction to her?" 
 queried the old woman, eyeing Eleanor keenly. 
 
 "To all of your questions, no," replied the 
 teacher. "I came here a stranger; I went to 
 work before I saw or heard of her; my health 
 failed; when I lay ill, without a friend, she came 
 and ministered to me." 
 
 "Humph!" 
 
 "I lay in bed in a humble boarding-house, where 
 the proprietress had neither the means nor the 
 knowledge to make me comfortable; when I had 
 no food that I could eat, Margaret Mason hear- 
 ing of me in some way, I know not how came to 
 my bedside, fed me with wholesome food, gave 
 me medicine, sat with me through the night, revived 
 me with her sympathy, and when she had to go 
 away sent me her own nurse to attend to my 
 wants." 
 
 "That was strange and good !" 
 
 "Nor did she stop at that unusual charity. 
 When I recovered, her first visit after her own 
 sickness was to me. She has since then had me 
 in her luxurious home, where she and her good 
 mother have made me always most happy." 
 
 "That looks like an uncommonly good woman, 
 Eleanor." 
 
 "And when these arrests began, and people 
 seemed turned against me ; when I was distressed, 
 and beginning to think that I must go away, Mar- 
 16
 
 242 THE STRANGER 
 
 garet Mason came to reassure me, to talk with me 
 and cheer me, and to carry me in public with her, 
 so as to show her people that she upheld me." 
 
 The old woman laid aside her Bible, and clasped 
 her hands upon her knees. 
 
 "She went to meet you at the station, of her 
 own suggestion. She wishes you to be comfort- 
 able here. She tells me that you must come out 
 to her home and spend some time with her and 
 her mother." 
 
 "There is good, then, in Nazareth!" cried the 
 old Puritan with energy, and forthwith she rose 
 and took three or four turns across the floor with 
 a rapidity that astonished her former neighbor. 
 Then she -resumed her chair and demanded to 
 know more of the strange Southern woman. 
 
 Eleanor proceeded to describe her visit to Oak 
 Hall, and dwelt upon the hearty and unaffected 
 hospitality of mother and daughter, the poultry- 
 raising, the overlooking of the plantation by Mar- 
 garet, her kindness to servants, the devotion of 
 the latter to her and her mother, her simplicity 
 and sprightliness of manners, her charity to the 
 poor neighbors of both races, and her avoidance 
 of all reference to the ill feeling between the two 
 sections of the Union. The old woman listened, 
 without a word. 
 
 When the recital was concluded she said, "I 
 must say that you have found a good friend in this 
 Southern woman " and then she sat silent for 
 several minutes, staring through a window at the 
 passers-by. Finally she spoke again. "I feel 
 strange down here. I haven't seen a colored per- 
 son for a long time; and here three out of
 
 THE STRANGER 243 
 
 every four people I see belong to that race. They 
 are queer-looking people." 
 
 "They are good servants." 
 
 "I suppose so. But that driver of Miss Ma- 
 son's is a very consequential fellow, and he's as 
 black as ink." 
 
 "You find it comfortable in the hotel, I hope." 
 
 "So so. But the tea is very weak, and every- 
 thing is full of grease. And I can't eat that corn- 
 bread; and those hot biscuits are the vilest things 
 in the world. And then there's the dry rice I'd 
 as lief eat sawdust. But the water is good, and 
 the milk and butter are good. I couldn't endure 
 the chicken pie, with great big slices of bacon in 
 it; but I did like the fried chicken, though I 
 thought I would not." 
 
 "The people are kind and attentive, I hope. 
 They were very good to me." 
 
 "Oh, well," returned the old lady, somewhat 
 petulantly, "I suppose they mean well. But old 
 Anderson is eternally bawling at 'niggers,' as he 
 calls them, and his wife is loud and free with 
 strangers. That darky Clarissy is a big- 
 mouthed, curious fool. She wants to know every- 
 thing about a stranger from a to izzard. I told 
 her at last to shut her mouth." And then the old 
 Puritan's lips closed with a snap. 
 
 Eleanor told her that she would probably see a 
 good many people and things here different from 
 those at home. 
 
 "I expect it," resumed Miss Norton. "Your 
 mother has sent me several of your letters to 
 read. I concluded I'd come at last. Some
 
 244 THE STRANGER 
 
 people said it might not be safe, but I was not 
 afraid. I never was afraid of anybody." 
 
 No, indeed, thought the teacher; everybody has 
 been afraid of you. 
 
 "The most disagreeable rascal I've seen," pur- 
 sued Rachel Norton, "was a colored porter on a 
 sleeping-car. He looked like he thought every- 
 body belonged to him. He made me pay a dollar 
 for a breakfast not worth twenty-five cents; and 
 when I complained he said that was the invariable 
 charge and said it with all sorts of airs, and a 
 sort of simper, as if I was green or something." 
 
 As it was now near sunset, Eleanor proposed a 
 walk. Her friend acceded promptly, admitting 
 that she was anxious to explore "this here vil- 
 lage." They went to the schoolhouse by a back 
 street, came by another back street past the ruins 
 of the Episcopal church, then by the Presbyterian 
 church, then by the store-house where the prison- 
 ers were confined, and back to the hotel, through 
 the main street of the town. The old lady ad- 
 mired the flowers and luxuriant vines which she 
 saw about the yards, but she scolded over the 
 want of paint, the rude appearance of fences, and 
 the rough streets and sidewalks. She observed the 
 inhabitants with close scrutiny, sneered at the 
 idlers congregated at the doors of stores, glared 
 savagely at two old white drunkards who reeled 
 past her, and inspected with interest groups of 
 barefoot negro children. 
 
 Miss Norton returned to the hotel rather out of 
 temper. She saw that not a woman bowed to 
 Eleanor, and that the few men who recognized 
 her did so distantly, and stared at herself. Eleanor
 
 THE STRANGER 245 
 
 parted from her friend in rather low spirits. 
 The old soul answered ungraciously to Mrs. Wil- 
 liams's message that she would call on her the 
 next morning; and grumbled when the teacher 
 repeated that Miss Mason would call for her, to 
 take her to Oak Hall with Eleanor, the next after- 
 noon. But there was no use in arguing with her, so 
 Eleanor left her a little before dark, and went 
 home, regretting more than ever that her friend 
 had come. 
 
 In this year of 1872 the loth day of May, the Me- 
 morial Day in the South, was on Friday, and it 
 was also the day appointed by Margaret Mason 
 for carrying Eleanor Field and Rachel Norton to 
 Oak Hall. As is well known, the loth of May was 
 selected by the people of most of the Southern 
 States at the close of the war for rendering a trib- 
 ute to the men who lost their lives in defending 
 the cause of Southern independence. The inhab- 
 itants of that section, without regard to their per- 
 sonal antecedents, or to their relations to the 
 Federal Government or toward the peoples of 
 other States, concurred in holding it their duty 
 to the many who had perished in an effort to 
 maintain the Southern Confederacy, to recognize 
 their devotion by placing decorations on the 
 graves of such of them as were buried in the 
 South, and by employing such ceremonies as 
 would indicate their grateful recollection of all 
 who participated in the four years' sacrifice. 
 That day was selected on account of its being the 
 anniversary of the death of Gen. Thomas J. Jack- 
 son, commonly known as Stonewall Jackson, who,
 
 246 THE STRANGER 
 
 more than any other slain in the great struggle, 
 was considered the exemplar of Southern valor and 
 Southern character. 
 
 The exercises on this occasion, in the cities, 
 were imposing. All places of business were 
 closed, all vocations were suspended. Old men 
 and young, veterans and civilians, women and chil- 
 dren, assembled at some appointed spot, and 
 moved thence in slow and solemn procession, 
 sometimes with the accompaniment of mournful 
 martial music, but usually with the sole accom- 
 paniment of tolling bells, to the public cemeteries 
 or to graveyards where their dead lay. Some- 
 times an oration was delivered in commemoration 
 of the dead; but most times there was no verbal 
 expression of the common sorrow except in brief 
 prayer at the burial-grounds. Families vied with 
 one another in the beauty and profusion of the 
 ornaments they bestowed on the dead; but there 
 was no effort to do greater honor to one soldier 
 than to another, the common purpose being to 
 merge all distinctions in the common cause for 
 which all suffered. The private soldier received 
 as rare and costly garlands as the general officer; 
 and the stranger was honored equally with him 
 whom a whole county had known and loved. 
 
 Nor were these decorations then, nor are they 
 now, confined to Southern dead. The graves of 
 Federal soldiers who died and were buried in 
 Southern towns shared with their antagonists the 
 tributes to valor and patriotism; and not seldom 
 a mother, after placing a garland on the tomb of 
 her dead son, laid a wreath around the head-board
 
 THE STRANGER 247 
 
 that marked the last resting-place of a Union sol- 
 dier. 
 
 It was a day of lamentation for the bereave- 
 ments of the Civil War; a day of grief, not of 
 anger; a day for honoring high aspirations and 
 unselfish devotion, not for crimination or revenge, 
 if Rachel Norton had known the people of the 
 South as Eleanor Field had learned to know them, 
 she would not have closed her window-blinds and 
 sat moodily watching through them the crowd 
 that moved to the village graveyard. 
 
 It was agreed in Cherenden that there should 
 be no speech-making or procession that day, but 
 it was arranged that on the tolling of the church 
 bells, at four o'clock in the afternoon, all who de- 
 sired to join in the tribute to the dead should 
 proceed, in such manner as pleased each one, to 
 the common burial-ground, where, after a prayer, 
 floral offerings were to be placed upon graves ac- 
 cording to the pleasure of the giver. Thence any 
 who might desire to do the same at other burial 
 places should repair to such places as they might 
 prefer. 
 
 A few minutes before the hoarse old bell in 
 the spire of the Methodist church began to peal, 
 Margaret Mason and her mother came to Mrs. 
 Williams's in their carriage, and invited Mrs. Wil- 
 liams and the teacher to ride with them to the 
 village graveyard. Already children in small 
 groups were seen, carrying wreaths and bouquets, 
 and moving in that direction. There was no 
 sound of labor in the village; the warm air of 
 spring seemed itself to have become quieted into 
 an unusual calm.
 
 248 THE STRANGER 
 
 Just within the gate of the cemetery quite a 
 number of persons were gathered when the Mason 
 equipage halted near by; and after a few minutes 
 Mr. Johnson offered a brief prayer, whose sub- 
 stance was a supplication for consolation to the 
 bereaved and an invocation of divine guidance in 
 the future. There was no reference to the con- 
 test in which the dead had fallen, beyond the mere 
 description of them as giving their lives at the call 
 of their people and for a cause they deemed 
 righteous. Kleanor took part in the distribution 
 ot flowers and evergreens, accompanying Mar- 
 garet closely. No one appeared to feel either 
 surprise or displeasure at her presence; indeed, 
 when she offered a bouquet to an old lady who 
 seemed to lack something to complete the decora- 
 tion of a grave beside which she stood, it was ac- 
 cepted with a sob of thanks, and promptly placed 
 among others. 
 
 In one square, at some distance from the en- 
 trance, there were two graves, marked by head- 
 boards, on which were scrawled some characters 
 not legible to the teacher's eye. When they came 
 to these, Margaret Mason whispered, "These are 
 the graves of two Federal soldiers, who were 
 killed in a cavalry skirmish, just outside the vil- 
 lage, about the close of the war. I always assist 
 in decorating them, and shall do so now; but do 
 not join me; stay here. Your participation might 
 not be understood by prejudiced persons." 
 
 Then she laid flowers upon the grassy mounds, 
 and hung garlands on the two head-boards, four 
 other ladies joining her in these offerings. 
 
 Mrs. Mason, Margaret, Mrs. Williams, and
 
 THE STRANGER 249 
 
 Eleanor were among the last to leave the grave- 
 yard. They drove thence to the old Episcopal 
 churchyard, where they found, or were afterwards 
 joined by, thirty or forty persons. There were not 
 many soldiers' graves here, but the scene was more 
 solemn and impressive than in the more open 
 ground of the cemetery, the granite ruins of the 
 church, the wide-spreading and low-dropping 
 boughs of the aged oaks, and the gray, quaint mon- 
 uments lending strange, deep somberness to the 
 silent ceremony. 
 
 Later they drove to Squire Williams's, and left 
 Mrs. Williams at her gate. Then they went to the 
 hotel, to fetch Miss Rachel Norton. Eleanor pro- 
 tested against the attempt, but Margaret declared 
 that she would take the spinster to Oak Hall that 
 evening or know the reason why not. Eleanor 
 remained in the carriage while Margaret and her 
 mother called on the lady. 
 
 To her surprise, she beheld, in about ten min- 
 utes, the figures of the three ladies coming 
 through the hotel. Mrs. Mason was in advance, 
 carrying what proved to be Miss Norton's "grip," 
 and Margaret, grasping the well known umbrella, 
 followed, "convoying," as she afterward called it, 
 the aged tourist down steep stairs and through 
 the ill-lighted hall of the hotel. The term seemed 
 appropriate; for the two moving together were 
 not unlike a trim modern steamer escorting an 
 old whaler after its long voyage amid the storms 
 and icebergs of arctic seas. 
 
 As they drove through the village the people 
 stared wonderingly at the carriage; and Miss 
 Norton glared defiantly at them. She opened her
 
 250 THE STRANGER 
 
 lips but once during the drive to Oak Hall which 
 was in passing a field of grain, when she remarked, 
 "That wheat's mighty for'ard!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Rachel Norton regarded stonily the Mason 
 oaks, the Mason columns, the Mason halls and 
 rooms, the Mason furniture, and everything else 
 that was Mason. She scowled positive defiance 
 at the aristocratic features she saw delineated in 
 the family portraits, save when she looked upon 
 the bright, handsome face of Margaret's father. 
 Then she softened, and said almost gently, to 
 Margaret, "That must be your father's likeness." 
 When Margaret answered in the affirmative, the 
 old lady regarded it long and seriously, then 
 added, "You are very like him. He must have 
 been a very handsome man." 
 
 "I thought so," returned Margaret; "but I was 
 a very young child when he died." 
 
 "Eleanor tells me that he was killed riding 
 horseback." 
 
 "Yes; his horse ran with him, -and then fell 
 upon him." 
 
 "Are you afraid of horses?" queried the Puri- 
 tan. 
 
 "Oh, no. I am very fond of them. Shall I 
 show you ours?" 
 
 She was then carried with Eleanor to the stable 
 lot, where the carriage horses and Oaks and Ruby 
 and two colts were brought out for inspection. 
 Then she was shown the cows and calves, and 
 the milking not quite concluded. The poultry 
 had been fed, and most of them were gone to 
 roost, but she saw the flock of geese whitening
 
 252 THE STRANGER 
 
 one corner of the back yard, and groups of ducks 
 sat on the ground and quacked at her as she 
 passed them. She observed that that was "a 
 monstrous fine lot of ducks." 
 
 After tea they sat on the front veranda for an 
 hour or more, Margaret Mason and the teacher 
 talking of nothing in particular, and Mrs. Mason 
 laboring to get question or answer out of her 
 guest. Her success was meager. The New Eng- 
 land woman seemed to be in a reverie. 
 
 William Huntley came about the time Mrs. 
 Mason had despaired of doing anything with Miss 
 Norton. He went first to his aunt, and kissed 
 her forehead, and inquired after her health. Miss 
 Norton stared when she saw the demonstration 
 and heard the grave voice of this haughty aristo- 
 crat. When presented to her, he took her hand, 
 and expressed, with quite as little emotion as even 
 she could have desired, his pleasure at meeting 
 Miss Field's friend and visitor. Miss Norton 
 shook his hand in silence, but scrutinized his face 
 as it appeared by the lamplight coming through 
 the open windows. Then he spoke to the others, 
 without any hand-shaking, however, and taking 
 his seat by his aunt conversed with her for some 
 minutes in an undertone, and thereby enabled the 
 New England spinster to pursue her own line of 
 thought. After a little while he went away with- 
 out saying anything to the others, except to tell 
 Margaret that he had that day finished the clean- 
 ing and rehanging of his paintings and engravings, 
 and would be glad if she and "any of her friends" 
 would come to his house the next day and pass 
 judgment on the light and position in which those
 
 THE STRANGER 253 
 
 works had been hung. Miss Norton was again 
 surprised when she saw him kiss his aunt at part- 
 ing, and Eleanor Field afterward averred that 
 her visitor emitted not only a distinct but a very 
 emphatic grunt thereupon. Margaret protested 
 that she heard nothing of the kind ; and Mrs. 
 Mason declined, when called upon, to take any 
 part in such a controversy, wherefore it seems 
 safe to record that Miss Norton did so express 
 herself. 
 
 The conversation finally proved so difficult that 
 Mrs. Mason suggested the possible fatigue of Miss 
 Norton after the warm day; and that lady 
 promptly availed herself of the opportunity to re- 
 tire to her chamber for the night. 
 
 Later, on the piazza., Margaret said, "Do you 
 sing or do you play?" 
 
 Eleanor replied laughingly that she did a little 
 of both. 
 
 "Well, well!" exclaimed Margaret. "I have 
 never happened to think of your accomplish- 
 ments." 
 
 Then she proposed an adjournment to the sit- 
 ting-room and the piano. Here Eleanor found 
 intense enjoyment in the music denied her ever 
 since her coming to the South. Now, while Mar- 
 garet sat at a window looking out into the night, 
 the teacher touched the keys of the mellow, full- 
 toned instrument, passing, as she had been bidden 
 by her hostess, from one strain of music to an- 
 other as her feelings and their associations sug- 
 gested, now executing a passage from Beethoven 
 or Chopin, now expressing a dream of Schumann, 
 now striking out the melodies of the Italian opera,
 
 254 THE STRANGER 
 
 now wandering into homely ballads, moving on 
 and on in a sort of reverie, and always with the 
 hand of a proficient and the expression of an 
 enthusiast. Whenever she looked at the still, 
 stately figure at the window, whose profile was 
 so clearly outlined upon the background of the 
 darkness without, some new thought of old ro- 
 mance came to her mind, and she passed into 
 fresh regions of sentiment and harmony, till she 
 poured forth not only a number of the composi- 
 tions of others, but seemed to unburden her own 
 sad heart of many and many a feeling long pent 
 up there. 
 
 At length Margaret came to her, and putting 
 her arms around her, said, "Now, dear, that you 
 have given me so much pleasure, shall we not sing 
 a little together? I think we shall harmonize in 
 song as otherwise." 
 
 "I know it I know it," returned Eleanor, ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 Then they sang together duets from Bellini and 
 Donazetti, duets from Meyerbeer, duets extemp- 
 orized from Rossini, plantation melodies, all 
 through the range of stage and home music, the 
 clear, pure soprano of the teacher chording per- 
 fectly with the round, deep contralto of her friend, 
 and both of them thoroughly harmonizing with 
 the rich, strong, true accompaniment of the in- 
 strument. When at length they paused, they saw 
 the open windows and the door of the room 
 crowded with dark faces, whose bright, eager eyes 
 demonstrated with what eagerness a band of silent 
 listeners had heard their songs. Eleanor started
 
 THE STRANGER 255 
 
 at the strange spectacle, and involuntarily caught 
 Margaret's hand. 
 
 "It is only the negroes come to hear us," said 
 the latter. "They always come to the door and 
 windows to hear me sing or play. Let us give 
 them 'The Swanee River.' ' 
 
 Then the two sang that simple air. At its close 
 there was a murmur in the dusky audience as if in 
 echo of the melody that had stirred their hearts. 
 Then arose the voice of Jane. 
 
 "'Fore God!" cried she, "I think you niggers 
 got your share o' music fer one night. Now you 
 kin go !" 
 
 Margaret led Eleanor to the door, where she 
 saw the hall almost filled with all sorts of negroes, 
 black, brown and yellow, men, women and chil- 
 dren, the neatly dressed servants of the house and 
 the yard, the rough, ill-kept laborers of the field 
 all of them grinning and bowing. 
 
 "You thank my friend Miss Eleanor Field very 
 much for this music, don't you?" said Margaret. 
 
 "Yes'm," responded an old man, nodding his 
 head repeatedly, "and you too, Miss Marg'ret. 
 Nobody can't sing better'n you kin." 
 
 "Well," returned Margaret, laughing, "we are 
 obliged to you for listening so quietly and pa- 
 tiently." 
 
 Then there was a great chorus of thanks from 
 the crowd, and a like chorus of "good nights," 
 and all of them departed as silently as they had 
 come. 
 
 "Do they often do this?" inquired Eleanor. 
 
 "Oh, yes," answered Margaret. "Negroes are 
 passionately fond of music, and most of them have
 
 256 THE STRANGER 
 
 good ears and good voices. Scipio is the only 
 one of them on the plantation whom I have never 
 heard sing or whistle, and I think it is only his 
 sense of dignity which prevents him. In the warm 
 weather, when doors and windows are open, they 
 invariably gather around the house to hear any 
 music. Indeed, I have known them to stand be- 
 neath those windows through a pretty heavy 
 shower of rain, while listening to singing." 
 
 "Did you see them out there before you came 
 to the piano? I saw you looking out a window 
 while I played." 
 
 "I was observing them as they collected. You 
 had not struck a dozen chords before two or three 
 of them came from the back yard. It was in 
 response to their whispered requests from the 
 piazza, that I joined you and had you sing. If you 
 had failed to sing well " 
 
 Eleanor joined in her friend's laugh, as she 
 always did in bare nervous sympathy, but quickly 
 said, "It doesn't seem to me so amusing, after 
 all." 
 
 "Well," returned Margaret, "you would have 
 been the worst vilified woman in the county. 
 They can endure the bird that can't sing and won't 
 sing, and they put up with the bird that can sing 
 and won't sing, but they positively despise the bird 
 that can't sing but will sing. I doubted if it was 
 entirely fair, in the circumstances, to drag you into 
 singing ; but I felt sure, either that you could sing 
 or that you would refuse to try. I would not tell 
 you they were here, for I wished to surprise you, 
 and I feared you might not do so well if you knew 
 you had such a large audience."
 
 THE STRANGER 257 
 
 "So you were conspiring with your Africans 
 while I thought you were gazing at the stars or 
 the dark forest, absorbed in romantic and melan- 
 choly musing." 
 
 "So much for your romantic imagination !" ex- 
 claimed Margaret. 
 
 "So much for your fine acting!" retorted 
 Eleanor. "Why, do you know that the sight of 
 your face and figure yonder, outlined so softly yet 
 plainly on the black canvas of the night, imparted 
 a softer and sweeter and more spiritual tone to all 
 I played, and to my thoughts as well?" 
 
 "Then the conspiracy was a wonderfully worthy 
 one, dear," cried Margaret, putting her arm 
 around her friend's waist and drawing her face 
 against her own; "for you positively charmed 
 your audience, and me, too. But it is time to go." 
 
 On reaching the head of the stairs they saw the 
 door of Miss Norton's room ajar, and light shin- 
 ing through it. 
 
 "That's an invitation to some one to visit your 
 stern compatriot," observed Margaret. "Sup- 
 pose you do it, and then come to my room and 
 let me know if she wants anything." 
 
 Eleanor complied, and found the spinster sitting 
 bolt upright in a straight-backed chair, and sternly 
 regarding the ceiling above her. There were old 
 fashioned rocking-chairs and modern self-rockers 
 in the room, and cushioned arm-chairs too; but 
 this woman chose the straightest, hardest seat to 
 be found. But she spoke kindly enough to 
 Eleanor, saying: 
 
 "Take a seat, child, if you care to stop a bit witfy 
 me."
 
 258 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Miss Mason wishes to know if anything is 
 needed for your comfort," said Eleanor, seating 
 herself near the old lady. 
 
 "I am much obliged to her," returned the latter. 
 "I don't need anything; it is all very fine and com- 
 fortable here." 
 
 Then there was a pause, during which Miss 
 Norton transferred her gaze to a lace curtain that 
 swayed back and forth in the farthest window of 
 the room. After a while she said: "It's all very 
 fine and beautiful here. This is the finest house I 
 ever saw." 
 
 "And yet it's very comfortable, and quiet, and 
 homelike, too," suggested Eleanor. 
 
 "They must be rich people," remarked Miss 
 Norton. 
 
 "I suppose so. They own four or five thousand 
 acres of land, and make large crops, and have a 
 great many horses, mules, cattle, sheep, hogs, and 
 everything else that goes to make up a fine plan- 
 tation." 
 
 "That old lady is a smart one!" exclaimed 
 Rachel Norton, fixing her gray eyes on Eleanor. 
 
 "Oh!" ejaculated the latter, somewhat startled 
 by the unexpected observation. "You mean Mrs. 
 Mason, do you?" 
 
 Mrs. Mason was no doubt thirty years younger 
 than Miss Norton, and looked perhaps a hundred 
 and thirty years younger, hence Eleanor's want of 
 preparation for the remark. 
 
 "Yes," returned Rachel Norton, snapping her 
 lips together. "She's a smart one." 
 
 "She is quite an intelligent woman," said 
 Eleanor, "and a very good one, too."
 
 THE STRANGER 259 
 
 "And that young woman is no fool, I can tell 
 you," resumed the elder lady. 
 
 "There is no brighter, or wiser, or handsomer, 
 or better woman in the world than Margaret Ma- 
 son," said Eleanor, slowly and clearly. 
 
 "Well, child," said the spinster, with a faint in- 
 timation of apology in her tone, "I didn't mean to 
 say anything against her. She has been very kind 
 to you, and both of them have been very polite to 
 me." 
 
 Then followed a longer pause than before 
 broken at length by Miss Norton. 
 
 "And that young man," said she "Mr. Hunt- 
 ley, I believe you call him he's no fool either." 
 
 "I suppose not," said Eleanor, wearily. 
 
 "He's a masterful sort of a man," pursued Miss 
 Norton ; "and he's got a voice as clear as a bell ; 
 and he's tall and strong and active; and he's got 
 an eye that is as quick and piercing as a hawk's; 
 and he talks plain and positive language ; and he's 
 all over like his hand, smooth and sensitive, but 
 as steady as steel, and as strong. He's a man 
 that might do terrible things." 
 
 It was only the talk of an old woman who had 
 always mastered everything about her, and was 
 not liked for her jealousy of the influence of 
 others; but in the lamplight that wavered in the 
 summer night-breezes the white haired, fierce- 
 eyed Puritan looked like a prophetess gradually 
 evolving a tale of future woe. Eleanor sat silent 
 and wondering. 
 
 "He's a man," resumed the old lady, after a 
 brief pause, "that would take a woman's heart and
 
 260 THE STRANGER 
 
 a woman's mind by force, and make her his slave 
 forever. I pity the woman he sets his mind on." 
 
 "Miss Mason would hardly thank you for your 
 pity," said Eleanor, with some sarcasm. "He and 
 she are to be married, and I have no doubt she will 
 be able to hold her own against him or any other 
 man." 
 
 "Humph!" grunted the old lady. "Maybe 
 so maybe so." 
 
 Eleanor was tired of being on the defensive, so 
 she said, "Do you suppose that Mr. Huntley is a 
 Ku Klux?" 
 
 "No, I don't," responded Miss . Norton, 
 promptly. "He might kill a man, or five men, 
 in open fight, if they got in his way; but he's too 
 proud to be hunting up niggers in the dark, and 
 beating or shooting them. He's a dangerous 
 man, but still he's every bit a man. I wouldn't be- 
 lieve him a Ku Klux if all the niggers between 
 here and Jericho swore it." 
 
 Eleanor had quite enough by this time. She 
 bade her visitor good night, reported to Margaret 
 that Miss Norton was comfortable, went to her 
 room, went to bed, and dreamed all night of bat- 
 tles, murders, giants, sibyls, witches, African 
 jungles, wild beasts, and a thousand other amaz- 
 ing things.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 The next morning Margaret insisted on going 
 to William Huntley's house, to see his paintings 
 and engravings. Mrs. Mason seconded her, add- 
 ing that it was but a quarter of a mile walk. 
 Eleanor acquiesced readily, but Rachel Norton 
 was decidedly hard against it "Plymouth Rock- 
 ish," as Margaret whispered to Eleanor; but 
 eventually she gave in. So the four walked up 
 the road soon after breakfast. When about half- 
 way across the lawn they heard the shrill neigh of 
 a horse, and directly saw a black mare a little off 
 the drive, eyeing them with curiosity. 
 
 "That is Delta," said Margaret "William's 
 mare which you have often seen." Then she 
 cried, "Come here, Delta, I have a lump of sugar 
 for you." 
 
 The mare recognized the voice and the out- 
 stretched hand, and after a pause and another 
 neigh came walking slowly to them. 
 
 "Now isn't that a beautiful animal?" cried Mar- 
 garet to Miss Norton, as the horse came to them 
 with the long, swinging stride of the thorough- 
 bred, carrying her head high in the air, her delicate 
 ears pricked forward, and her neck proudly 
 arched. Miss Norton had to admit that the mare 
 was uncommonly handsome. 
 
 She came confidently to them, whinnying a sort 
 of welcome, took the sugar offered her by Mar- 
 garet, and walked by Margaret's side, now and
 
 262 THE STRANGER 
 
 then rubbing her nose on the young lady's 
 shoulder. 
 
 They were surprised when some fifty yards from 
 the house to see a slight male figure glide toward 
 them through the trees, but they soon recognized 
 Mr. Marcus Aurelius Vaughn. He ran to them, 
 crying, "Dear Mrs. Mason!" "Dear Miss Mar- 
 garet!" and "My dear Miss Field!" Then he 
 shook hands twice with each of the three, and 
 after that looked at Miss Norton with a deep and 
 long-drawn sigh. 
 
 "This is Mr. Vaughn, Miss Norton," said Mar- 
 garet. "And, Mr. Vaughn, this is Miss Norton, 
 Miss Field's friend and neighbor in her Northern 
 home whom we are all glad to have with us." 
 
 "My dear Madam," cried Mr. Vaughn, snatch- 
 ing at Miss Norton's hand, "I am delighted to 
 meet you. Miss Field's friend is always welcome 
 here; and I am very sure we shall all enjoy your 
 society." 
 
 Rachel Norton was taken somewhat aback for 
 an instant, but rallied, and gave Mr. Vaughn's 
 hand a formal touch with her own icy digits, and 
 accorded to him a severe : 
 
 "How are you, sir?" 
 
 "Oh, well, very well, dear Miss Norton," re- 
 plied Mr. Vaughn. "I trust this climate agrees 
 with you." 
 
 "It's right pleasant so far," returned Miss 
 Norton, now master of all the ice and granite in 
 her system. 
 
 They proceeded to the house, where they saw 
 Huntley walking on the piazza, followed by his 
 dog, both of them apparently unconscious of the
 
 THE STRANGER 263 
 
 coming of visitors. The man, moving slowly, with 
 eyes on the floor, excited Rachel Norton's curios- 
 ity. 
 
 "Who's that man?" asked she presently. 
 
 "That is Mr. Huntley," answered Eleanor. 
 
 "Aha !" said Miss Norton in a low voice. 
 " 'Pears to be in a brown study." 
 
 "Probably he is," returned Eleanor. "He lives 
 here alone, and is a student." 
 
 "Aha!" repeated Miss Norton. 
 
 When they reached the steps a black setter dog 
 came out of the front door to meet them. 
 
 "Why, Nero," exclaimed Margaret, who was 
 always the first to address animals, "how are 
 you?" 
 
 The dog recognized her, and rubbed against 
 her, wagging his great feathery tail and looking 
 into her face with his large brown eyes, whining 
 a welcome. 
 
 Now Huntley crossed the piazza to them 
 rapidly, as if suddenly aroused, and made them 
 welcome in a few words. Eleanor observed that 
 he now, as always before, shook hands with no 
 one, but placed his hands on his aunt's shoulders 
 and kissed her brow. The old white and lemon 
 colored dog who had been following him came 
 with his master, and looked up at Margaret with 
 his bleared, sad eyes. 
 
 "This," said Margaret to Miss Norton and 
 Eleanor, "is old Bunk, as William has always most 
 unpoetically called him. He is what we sporting 
 people call a lemon-belten lemon color and 
 white, with small lemon spots scattered through 
 the white. He is the father of Nero here, and of
 
 264 THE STRANGER 
 
 our Guard, who are litter brothers. Bunk is now 
 ten years old, and, though he does not hunt much, 
 he is his master's most constant, and perhaps 
 faithful, companion at home eh, William?" 
 
 "He is with me more than any of them," re- 
 plied Huntley, touching the dog's head with the 
 tips of his fingers. 
 
 Eleanor made so bold as to inquire whom he 
 meant by "them." 
 
 "Oh," he responded, with a half smile, "the 
 darkies and dogs and horses." 
 
 Miss Norton was not pleased; but she gave no 
 sign beyond a stare. 
 
 "Be seated," said Huntley. "Mark, see that 
 the ladies get comfortable chairs while I prepare 
 my picture gallery for their inspection." 
 
 "To be sure, dear boy," cried Mr. Vaughn, who 
 proceeded to push, drag, and turn the half dozen 
 oak rockers and upright arm-chairs into what he 
 thought suitable places for the guests, for they 
 were to remain on the veranda. Miss Norton 
 eyed him severely, to the great amusement of 
 Eleanor and Margaret, which amusement culmi- 
 nated in a laugh when the flaxen-haired gentle- 
 man exclaimed, "Dear, dear lady, have the sweet 
 old rocker, so restful for the aged and weary!" 
 
 Miss Norton was dumbfounded. She took the 
 chair with a gasp. 
 
 Directly a venerable, gray-haired colored wo- 
 man appeared, bearing a large tray on which were 
 a decanter of wine, a pitcher of lemonade, and 
 several wine-glasses and goblets. Huntley fol- 
 lowed, saying, "If you like mild wine take some of 
 my making, which looks like sherry, and has
 
 THE STRANGER 265 
 
 somewhat of its flavor, but which is not nearly 
 so fiery. Or, if you prefer, there's lemonade." 
 
 Miss Norton tried the wine, as did Eleanor. 
 "It's pretty good," observed the former, relaxing. 
 Then pausing, she added, "I reckon there's no 
 harm in it. It's mighty gentle." 
 
 Huntley, who overheard her, said, "I think 
 you will have no cause to complain of its strength. 
 I think I have made in that wine the safe bever- 
 age for the people of this climate. We ought 
 never to venture on strong drink, as our Northern 
 friends may do. I have tried for several years 
 to get such a wine as the people of Italy and 
 southern France enjoy, and this comes nearest 
 it of all my efforts the vintage of three years 
 ago." 
 
 "Dear boy !" ejaculated Mr. Vaughn. "I I 
 must taste that vintage." And he proceeded to 
 pour himself a gobletful, which, after smiling at 
 each one of the ladies, and bowing profoundly, 
 he tossed off with celerity. 
 
 "Mr. Vaughn's experiment will demonstrate 
 the innocuous nature of the beverage," remarked 
 Huntley, dryly. "He will be as rational in half 
 an hour as he is now." 
 
 Even Rachel Norton was forced to smile at the 
 singularity of the evidence suggested. 
 
 A portly negro man, with white hair and round, 
 smiling face, now stepped from the hall and, 
 slightly inclining his head to Huntley, announced 
 that the "room" was arranged. Huntley rose, 
 and invited his guests to accompany him. 
 
 They entered a hall fifteen feet wide and almost 
 that deep from ceiling to floor. Large arm-
 
 266 THE STRANGER 
 
 chairs, mostly willow, were scattered along each 
 wall, while matting-, absolutely colorless, and show- 
 ing some signs of age, covered the floor. There 
 was no other furnishing except a thermometer at 
 each end, a large barometer just inside the front 
 door, and a tall clock that stood and ticked loudly 
 near the back door. Margaret informed Eleanor 
 that the plain, self-assertive time-piece was of 
 great value to its owner, owing to its having been 
 brought by an ancestor from England two hun- 
 dred years ago. Huntley conducted them to the 
 front room on the left of the hall, where they at 
 once saw the walls hung with a variety of pictures. 
 Some statuary stood in corners and near the 
 fireplace. 
 
 "You need not occupy yourselves," said he, 
 "with the statuary. It is inferior. That half- 
 size Venus near the hearth is said to be the work 
 of Canova. I doubt it, in spite of the price my 
 father paid for it. The engravings are my best 
 works. These cartoons of Raphael are well exe- 
 cuted especially the 'Paul preaching at Athens,' 
 though rather the plainest of all. I rank next to 
 them the engraving of the 'Immaculate Concep- 
 tion,' Murillo's painting now at the Louvre. I 
 do not know where it was executed, as there is 
 no mark upon it. My father purchased it in Paris 
 just before his death in 1858. Next it you see an 
 engraving from the painting in the Konigliches 
 Schloss at Berlin, which represents Frederick 
 William IV on his accession to the throne, view- 
 ing the multitude of his subjects, under which are 
 his words, 'Dies ja ist mein.' He did not keep
 
 THE STRANGER 267 
 
 it long; and what he kept he soon ceased to 
 enjoy." 
 
 There was a hard, mechanical tone in Huntley's 
 voice, which compelled silence. 
 
 "Beyond them," he resumed, after a brief pause, 
 ''you will see what I consider the finest specimens 
 of photography I have ever seen. The copy of 
 the Sistine Madonna is the best. That of the 
 'Notte' of Correggio is good; but it was impos- 
 sible to portray without colors the marvelous light 
 and shade of that great painting as it is described 
 to me, for I have never been in Europe. My father 
 was there twice, and I was to be sent there to 
 complete my education; but my youth at the 
 time of his death, and the outbreak of the war in 
 less than three years after, prevented me. The 
 copies in oil from the masters are fairly good. 
 My father brought them from Europe just be- 
 fore his death. He preferred the 'Aurora' of 
 Guido, but my own preference is the 'Magdalen,' 
 copied from a Correggio at Naples. Paul Potter's 
 'Bull' is an animated picture. I need not call at- 
 tention to the rest. There are some water-color 
 pictures of some little merit over there. On the 
 third wall are the paintings I most esteem. That 
 portrait of my grandfather is a fine piece, that of 
 my grandmother nearly as good. That of my 
 father is uncommonly good, both as a likeness and 
 as a work of art, and the other members of the 
 family are very well delineated. My sister, who 
 died in childhood, is, I think, beautifully repre- 
 sented. But you may see, almost at a glance, 
 that my mother's portrait is by far the loveliest 
 of all."
 
 268 THE STRANGER 
 
 All eyes followed his to a life-size full-length 
 portrait of a woman, not outlined on the usual 
 background, but standing on a balcony looking 
 out upon a scene of hill and valley, and forest, and 
 field of grain, and variously colored clouds that 
 glowed in the splendor of a setting sun. It would 
 have been dangerous to the effect to paint any 
 ordinary face or form amid such surroundings; 
 but the artist had exhibited his genius in thus sur- 
 rounding the magnificent central figure. It was 
 a tall woman, whom one could scarcely call 
 slender or the contrary an active, lithe figure, 
 without an angle or an excess of any part a 
 woman with masses of deep brown hair, coiled 
 high above a throat and shoulders fully displayed 
 a woman with low, broad forehead and dark, 
 penciled brows, with large, luminous, blue-gray 
 eyes, a Grecian nose, a rather short arched upper 
 lip, a full, though not sensual under lip, a chin en- 
 tirely feminine yet speaking much resolution, an 
 oval face, a complexion of that rich yet clear ol- 
 ive tint which shows no blood on the surface but 
 indicates its rich currents beneath. The paint- 
 ing was strikingly like the speaker, and as he 
 stood gazing at it with his own brilliant and proud 
 eyes, and with an unwonted flush on his cheeks, 
 every one realized that he was the very son of a 
 beautiful, intellectual and proud woman, paying 
 the reverence he felt for nothing else in the wide 
 world. 
 
 "This was painted as I recollect her," said he, 
 after some silence, "shortly before her death. I 
 was away when she died. I was spared the misery 
 of seeing her less beautiful than that." He turned
 
 THE STRANGER 269 
 
 and walked to a front window, and looked out 
 upon the lawn. 
 
 The others proceeded to examine the various 
 works of art, but Eleanor observed that Miss 
 Norton gazed long and earnestly on the portrait 
 of Mrs. Huntley, glancing quickly now and then 
 at the figure that remained motionless for many 
 minutes at the open window. To Eleanor, how- 
 ever, the sister's portrait was the most engaging 
 of all. It was a child of not more than twelve 
 years, slender and pale, with golden-tinted chest- 
 nut hair, which hung, somewhat curling, to the 
 shoulders. She was dressed in white muslin, and 
 wore no ornament except a necklace of small 
 pearls around her delicate throat. Her eyes were 
 a light brown, large and spiritual and gentle, yet 
 her clear-cut features, and especially her arched 
 mouth, indicated as aristocratic a lineage and feel- 
 ing as the stately mother beside her exhibited. 
 The resemblance of this face to the fair-haired 
 father, General Huntley, was marked, though his 
 was rather that of a well-bred, quiet, contented man. 
 
 "Poor fellow," said Margaret, looking at her 
 cousin, "he looks more than ever solitary stand- 
 ing here among the effigies of his kindred, the last 
 of his line." 
 
 Huntley stepped into the back piazza, as she 
 spoke and walked rapidly away, and he did not 
 return until after his visitors concluded their in- 
 spection and went, at Mrs. Mason's invitation, 
 into the hall. There he soon appeared, followed 
 by two servants carrying trays on which were 
 dishes and food. There were several small tables 
 in the hall, which Huntley, assisted, with much
 
 270 THE STRANGER 
 
 fluttering, by Mr. Vaughn, distributed among the 
 ladies. Mr. Vaughn, endeavored to keep with 
 both servants at the same time, with the result, 
 common to such efforts, of doing no good and 
 being in everybody's way. Once he tripped on 
 the foot of the gigantic butler, Caesar, and went 
 spinning half the length of the hall before he re- 
 covered his equilibrium. Miss Norton watched 
 this performance with grim enjoyment. 
 
 Huntley offered to help no one. He took a 
 chair near his aunt and spoke occasionally to her, 
 but to no one else. He ate nothing, and Eleanor 
 saw that he was preoccupied, but she could dis- 
 cover no impatience nor ill humor. 
 
 Miss Norton remarked to Mrs. Mason, who sat 
 next her, that it was very early for apples May 
 apples being a part of the refreshment offered. 
 
 "Yes," said Huntley, "and this early fruit is 
 poor and insipid. This is not the home of the 
 apple. A higher altitude or a higher latitude is 
 needed for it perhaps both. I dislike to show 
 a stranger such inferior products of our soil. 
 Those fruits to which our climate are adapted are 
 the best of their kind. Our peaches are the most 
 deliciously flavored in the world, as far as I can 
 learn. They are as superior to your peaches as 
 your apples are to ours. Our watermelons are 
 much the best of their kind. Our pears are not 
 as sure nor as plentiful as those of the North; 
 but they have a richer flavor." 
 
 "I didn't know you raised pears here," said 
 Miss Norton. "I haven't seen a single tree." 
 
 "Dear me!" cried Mr. Vaughn, skipping 
 toward her. "You could have seen two beauti-
 
 THE STRANGER 271 
 
 ful ones right at the entrance to the cemetery. 
 You went there, of course, yesterday, to the me- 
 morial exercises." 
 
 "No, I didn't," retorted Miss Norton, shortly. 
 
 "Dear me!" sighed Mr. Vaughn, folding his 
 hands and regarding her with an appearance of 
 commiseration. 
 
 "Mark," interposed Huntley, smiling slightly, 
 "I think Miss Field might like an apple." 
 
 "Ah, dear young lady!" cried Mr. Vaughn, 
 sliding across the hall to the table where the dish 
 of apples sat. "Pardon my negligence. Have 
 one of these. They are far better than the dear 
 boy claims. Let me select a nice, smooth, round 
 er golden fruit for you. This no, this no, 
 this. Now try it and see if if Vaughn's judg- 
 ment is not correct." 
 
 "Do you remember," said Huntley to Miss 
 Norton, "what Grandfather Smallweed, in 'Bleak 
 House,' often calls his wife?" 
 
 "No," answered she sourly, "I don't know 
 Grandfather Smallweed, and I don't know any- 
 thing about his bleak house, or his comfortable 
 house, or anything he's got." 
 
 Eleanor was horrified, and expected Huntley 
 to retort sternly. But he smiled and went on, 
 "Well, Grandfather Smallweed calls his wife a 
 'brimstone chatterer' !" 
 
 "That's a mighty good name for some young 
 men," remarked the Puritan with satisfaction, 
 looking fixedly at Mr. Vaughn. 
 
 Huntley laughed, the first laugh Eleanor had 
 heard from him, in which every one joined, except 
 Miss Norton and Mr. Vaughn, and the latter sim-
 
 272 THE STRANGER 
 
 pered in a confused way, as if suspecting, yet un- 
 certain, that he was alluded to. 
 
 Presently Margaret said, "William, let me show 
 Eleanor your study." 
 
 "Very well," assented Huntley, without mov- 
 ing. 
 
 The study was a large one, perhaps twenty by 
 twenty-two feet in extent. Two of the walls were 
 hung with maps, Maury's charts of oceanic cur- 
 rents, meteorological charts, and charts of his- 
 tory and chronology. There was a single pic- 
 ture a life-size representation on porcelain of a 
 woman, which Eleanor recognized as a copy of 
 the portrait of Mrs. Huntley. There were eight 
 or ten pedestals, on which rested as many busts 
 all in marble. Two large globes celestial and 
 terrestrial stood near the long table in the center 
 of the room. The shelves, occupying two walls 
 and reaching almost to the ceiling, were filled with 
 books probably three or four thousand in num- 
 ber. There was a large, closed desk in one cor- 
 ner, near a window. The well-equipped writing- 
 table showed a number of volumes in arm's reach 
 of the one chair placed before it. Everything was 
 as plain as the colorless matting on the floor, and 
 indicated a place for laborious study. 
 
 When the two returned to the hall, and saw 
 that Huntley was not there, Margaret asked for 
 him, and was told by her mother that Pompey,. 
 the miller, had called him into the yard. For a 
 few minutes they heard no voices outside; then 
 some one said, "But, Mars William, I never can 
 satisfy them Joneses and Waterses." 
 
 "Pompey's especial abomination, 15 ' explained
 
 THE STRANGER 273 
 
 Margaret "two indigent, idle white families in 
 the neighborhood, who are said to bring short 
 measures of inferior corn to William's mill, to be 
 ground, yet never get meal enough, or white 
 enough, to please them." 
 
 They could not hear Huntley's answer. Soon 
 they heard a voice, apparently twenty or thirty 
 yards away, saying, "I jis' brung the bag o' corn 
 what I fotch, an' Pomp won't give no meal for 
 to let you see how outrageous he's a-doin'." 
 
 "I am not deaf," returned Huntley, angrily. 
 "You need not bawl in that fashion !" 
 
 But the man continued in the same tone, "I 
 hope you'll settle this matter with this here nig- 
 ger. He's forever a-jowerin' 'bout my corn, an' 
 meal, an' everything." 
 
 After a minute or two the voice of the miller 
 said, "Now, jis' look at it, Mars William, and say 
 if I ain't right." 
 
 "You go to h 11!" cried the stranger. 
 
 Huntley now spoke distinctly. "Confound you, 
 Jim Waters !" said he. "I told you there were 
 ladies in the house, but nothing can stop your big 
 mouth. The corn is hardly fit for hog feed. 
 Pompey is exactly right. He may give you half 
 a bushel of good meal for this stuff, and feed it to 
 the hogs; but I instruct him to refuse to receive 
 any more of the kind, on any terms." 
 
 "He don't know good corn when he sees it," 
 cried the white man. 
 
 "He knows more about corn than you and I 
 do, or ever will. He is only doing his duty. I 
 am tired of your complaints. From this time for- 
 18
 
 274 THE STRANGER 
 
 ward I won't hear them. If his manner of dealing 
 doesn't satisfy you, go elsewhere. Now I have 
 said all I intend to say." 
 
 Presently there was silence outside; and then 
 Huntley entered the house, frowning somewhat, 
 but without any appearance of excitement. 
 
 "So," cried Margaret, laughing, "you are still 
 bothered with 'them Joneses and Waterses.' " 
 
 "Yes," returned Huntley. "I have often 
 thought that I ought to order all of those two 
 families to stay away from the mill. Pompey is 
 a very capable and conscientious miller; and I 
 sometimes suspect that it is not fair to allow him 
 to be annoyed by those people. But they are 
 poor and shiftless, and they would have difficulty 
 in getting meal if I turned them away." 
 
 Rachel Norton was interested. "Is Pompey 
 a black man?" asked she. 
 
 "Yes about the color of Caesar, whom you 
 saw just now, who is his first cousin, and within a 
 month of the same age. They belonged to my 
 father, and afterward to me. They were of about 
 the same age as my father." 
 
 "Have they stayed with you all the time?" 
 asked Miss Norton. 
 
 "Yes; they have always lived here." 
 
 "Pretty well satisfied, then, I guess," said the 
 lady. "Must have liked you and your father." 
 
 "I suppose they like me," said Huntley; "I 
 know they were very fond of my father." 
 
 The party from Oak Hall soon took leave, Mr. 
 Vaughn accompanying them to the gate. Rachel 
 Norton had somewhat relaxed and showed signs 
 of positive thawing ; but Marcus Aurelius Vaughn
 
 THE STRANGER 275 
 
 got his tall silk hat knocked off by the limb of a 
 tree, and in his excited efforts to catch it as it 
 rolled past that lady, lost his footing and fell 
 against one of her venerable ankles. He recov- 
 ered himself quickly, and offered a multitude of 
 plaintive apologies ; but she only glowered and 
 hurried on, and Mr. Vaughn retreated to the 
 house.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 On Monday morning, Eleanor, by invitation of 
 Mrs. Anderson, went to breakfast with her and 
 Miss Norton. The meal was at seven o'clock 
 sharp, and later, and while Miss Norton was "do- 
 ing up things in her room," Eleanor sat at a win- 
 dow in the parlor on the second floor, looking 
 into the street. 
 
 After a little while she heard that confused 
 murmur which indicates that a number of per- 
 sons are witnessing or hearing something of ex- 
 citing interest. Presently there appeared on the 
 sidewalks a number of negroes and some white 
 men and boys, and in the street several men on 
 horseback. Just across the street all the mounted 
 men alighted, and the horses were led away. 
 Among those horses she recognized Delta and 
 the gaunt sorrel which she had seen Mr. Vaughn 
 ride. Six Federal soldiers were of the party, and 
 some other men, not at first distinguishable in 
 the crowd that pressed around them. But in a 
 few seconds she saw the tall figure of William 
 Huntley, wearing his usual broad-brimmed felt 
 hat, and next him she saw the high-crowned silk 
 hat of Mr. Vaughn and his long flaxen locks. 
 The matter was clear to her now. Huntley and 
 Vaughn had been arrested. She was horror- 
 stricken. Nothing like that had ever come so 
 near her before. 
 
 Soon after the horsemen stepped together from 
 the street to the sidewalk she was able to see the
 
 THE STRANGER 277 
 
 faces of both Huntley and Vaughn. The latter 
 wore his usual look of placid ease; the former 
 was paler than usual, but she saw, even at that dis- 
 tance, a fierce scintillation in his eyes. 
 
 The two prisoners walked forward among the 
 soldiers; but there was no appearance of speak- 
 ing on the part of any of them. 
 
 Very soon five or six negroes large and ath- 
 letic pressed into the group composed of captors 
 and captives, and uttered loud, angry words. She 
 saw Huntley turn and face them, as did a stalwart 
 soldier. Vaughn walked on with the rest of the 
 guard. Then she saw two negroes rush toward 
 Huntley and the soldier beside him. Then she 
 saw Huntley strike the foremost to the ground; 
 and then the soldier laid the other negro beside 
 his companion. Then a halloo was raised by the 
 mob of negroes, and there was a general melee, 
 the rest of the guard joining in the fray. Then 
 darkness seemed to her to come over the scene, 
 and all sounds mingled in a meaningless murmur. 
 She did not faint, but the horror of the scene 
 temporarily stupefied her senses. When she 
 looked out again the crowd had disappeared, and 
 the village street resumed its accustomed quiet. 
 
 In a few minutes, she saw Margaret Mason's 
 carriage driven rapidly to the front of the hotel, 
 and Margaret herself at once entered the hotel. 
 Eleanor ran down-stairs to meet her, and found 
 her on the veranda talking with Mr. Anderson. 
 Margaret was rather pale, but her voice was as 
 steady and her bearing as composed as usual. She 
 came to Eleanor at once, and kissed her, saying: 
 
 "I did not know you were here, dear."
 
 27 8 THE STRANGER 
 
 "I had the unhappiness," cried Eleanor, ner- 
 vously, "to see to see on the street there " 
 
 "Oh, yes," interrupted Margaret, quietly, "to see 
 the trouble with the negroes. Well, no one was 
 much hurt, they tell me, except the two negroes 
 struck by William and the sergeant, both of whose 
 heads fell on rough stones and received some scalp 
 wounds. Mr. Vaughn ' and here Margaret 
 could not repress a smile, "Mr. Vaughn had his 
 silk hat terribly beaten, and trampled upon; and 
 they say his curls were very much deranged ; but 
 he suffered little otherwise." 
 
 "Poor fellow!" sighed Eleanor, though the 
 picture presented to her mind of Marcus Aurelius 
 in a battered hat and with disordered flaxen curls 
 was amusing enough. "I suppose," she added, 
 "that these arrests must have been made under 
 the Ku Klux regulations." 
 
 "Yes; William has several times been notified 
 by friends who were intimate with the authorities 
 that they would arrest him if he remained here. 
 But his answer invariably was that he would not 
 leave the country nor hide in it, but stand the 
 issue. By the way, here comes Mr. Vaughn's pet 
 negro boy." 
 
 Then she called to a diminutive negro child be- 
 striding a great, lean horse, and weeping as he 
 was jostled up and down by the long, rough walk 
 of the animal, "Why, Toodles, what is the matter 
 with you?" 
 
 The boy reined up, and, on locating the 
 speaker, blubbered, "Why, Miss Marg'ret, they 
 bin an' tuk Mars Marcus!" 
 
 "I suppose they will not hurt him, Toodles,"
 
 THE STRANGER 279 
 
 said Margaret, soothingly. "Mr. Huntley is with 
 him ; and they'll get along pretty well together." 
 
 "Yes'm," whimpered Toodles; "but his ma an' 
 his pa is mighty skeered. An' I dunno what I'm 
 to do without Mars Marcus," and he sobbed 
 afresh. 
 
 "Wait a moment, Toodles," said Margaret. 
 
 Toodles said, "Yes'm," and sat on his horse, 
 rubbing his eyes with his little brown fists while 
 Margaret went into the hotel office. In a minute 
 or two she returned, bringing an envelope, which 
 she carried out and handed to the boy, saying, 
 "Now ride home, and give that either to Mr. or 
 Mrs. Vaughn. Take care of it. It is a note tell- 
 ing them all about it." 
 
 "Yes'm," returned the boy, putting the note 
 in the pocket of his breeches. "Thankee, mum; 
 they'll be powerful glad to git it, I reckin." And 
 then he turned his horse, and went back, bouncing 
 at ever leap of the awkward horse. 
 
 Now a tall, straight, slender, very black, neatly 
 dressed man standing on the sidewalk lifted his 
 hat to Margaret. 
 
 "Ah, Josh!" cried she. "I thought you would 
 be here !" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Margaret," returned he, standing 
 uncovered. "You knew I'd follow Mars William 
 as fast as I could." 
 
 "How is it now, Josh?" 
 
 "Well, they put Mars William an' Mr. Vaughn 
 in jail. Neither of 'em was hurt. Mr. Vaughn 
 was somewhat disarranged, an' Mars William cut 
 one of his knuckles on that nigger's head; but 
 it don't amount to anything. That sergeant talked
 
 a8o THE STRANGER 
 
 a heap about the lick Mars William hit. He says 
 it's the best he ever saw. I told him Mars William 
 was about the hardest hitter I ever saw." 
 
 "Were you there when the fighting occurred?" 
 
 "No, ma'am; I wish I had been!" cried Josh, 
 regretfully. 
 
 "It is very well that you were not. You could 
 have done no good." 
 
 "I could 'a' beat one or two of them niggers till 
 they got sick of it!" exclaimed the man. 
 
 "That would not have helped." 
 
 "You see, Miss Marg'ret," pursued Josh, 
 "Mars William had sent me at sun-up to the mill 
 with some things for Uncle Pompey. When I 
 come back the Yankees had got him an' gone. 
 I got a horse an' rode as fast as I could; but I 
 didn't catch up with 'em till they was goin' into 
 the jail. But they let me talk to him there, and 
 he wrote this note to you. An' he give me word 
 what was to be done at home though there ain't 
 no trouble about that, as Uncle Caesar an' Uncle 
 Pompey an' me can 'tend to everything." 
 
 "Josh," said Margaret, after glancing at the 
 note, "who do you suppose could have had Mr. Wil- 
 liam arrested? I never heard that he was charged 
 with Ku Kluxing." 
 
 "No more he ain't," returned Josh, decisively. 
 "I b'lieve that Tom Brown was the instigation of it 
 right now. That's the nigger what Mars William 
 run off the plantation last Saturday. Tom was 
 plowin' under Uncle Joe the foreman, you 
 know out in the Johnson field. 'Bout 'leven 
 o'clock in the day you know they knocks off fer 
 the day, on Saturday, at twelve o'clock Tom
 
 THE STRANGER 281 
 
 says he goin' to stop. Uncle Joe says it's a hour 
 till knockin'-off time. Tom then runs his plow 
 right across five or six rows of cotton, draps his 
 line, leaves his mule standin' by hisself, an' walks 
 off into the shade an' lays down. Uncle Joe sends 
 for Mars William. He come pretty soon, an' 
 hears the noration, an' drives Tom off the place. 
 He ought to 'a' beat him; but he didn't. Tom 
 come to town that evenin', an' we ain't seen him 
 sence. But yisterday Uncle Joe got word that 
 Tom said he'd have him an' Mars William in jail 
 before long." 
 
 "But that could not have caused the arrest," 
 said Margaret. 
 
 "Not by itself. But here's more. You know 
 Bill Boston stole Jasper Mason's wife on your 
 plantation about the beginnin' of the year. An' 
 you know when Bill an' Jasper got to quawlin' 
 over it your ma sont for Mars William. He went 
 over to the settlement where they lives I reckin 
 it's three miles from your house an' made Bill 
 turn the woman loose to her husband, but Bill 
 stole her agin. An' two nights after that some- 
 body called Bill out of his house an' shot him 
 dead." 
 
 "But," asked Margaret, with some impatience, 
 "what has that to do with Mr. William's arrest?" 
 
 "I'm comin' to that," answered Josh, coolly. 
 "Everybody knows that Jasper shot Bill an' 
 sarved him right. But Jasper ain't a feller to be 
 fooled with, an' Bill's kin knows that Jasper's kin 
 ain't to be fooled with. An' besides, they know 
 Bill was wrong. So they lets Jasper alone, an' 
 says Mars William done it. That's the way some
 
 282 THE STRANGER 
 
 folks has of 'scusin' theyselves for not makin' a 
 fight" 
 
 "But I don't see any sense in all this," said 
 Margaret. 
 
 "Well, Miss Marg'ret, I'm a nigger what's got 
 mighty little sense ; but you jis' listen. You know 
 Mr. Taylor, what lives on t'other side of the road 
 from the fur end of your plantation that white 
 man that used to live pretty near us?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Margaret, becoming interested. 
 
 "Very well. You knows him to be as mean as 
 even poor white folks ever gits to be. Very well. 
 You knows how Mars William give him a cow- 
 hidin' 'bout me endurin' of the war." 
 
 "I have heard of it," returned Margaret. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you an' this lady, if you'll hear 
 me." 
 
 "I'd rather not, Josh," said Margaret. 
 
 "But it's got its bearin's jist now, Miss Marg'- 
 ret; an' you'd better let me tell it." 
 
 As Margaret was silent, Josh proceeded: "I 
 was sparkin' a gal what b'longed to Mr. Vance 
 which Mr. Taylor was his overseer Em'ly, 
 what's my wife now. Mars William knowed it. 
 He told Mr. Taylor, when he went to the army 
 at fust, that I could go to see my gal, if Mr. Tay- 
 lor didn't object, an' almost the last thing he did 
 was to give me a pass to last fer a year. Mr. Tay- 
 lor said it was all right. Before that pass was out 
 Mars William sont another one, an' Mr. Enlow, 
 our overseer, made all the boys laugh when he 
 give it to me an' gives his own pass too, an' says, 
 'Josh, you've got one more year to git that gal.' 
 So it went all right, till one night I went to see
 
 THE STRANGER 283 
 
 Em'ly an' I met Mr. Taylor in the yard. Says he, 
 'Who's that?' 'Josh Huntley,' says I. 'What you 
 doin' here?' says he, mad-like. 'Come to see 
 Em'ly, as ujal/ says I. 'You git out,' says he. I 
 'lowed as I was only a comin' 'cordin' to 'gree- 
 ment 'twixt him an' Mars William. He says he 
 don't keer a cuss fer 'greements, an' 'fore I 
 knowed what he was 'bout, he knocked me down 
 with a big stick an' beat me till I could hardly 
 see. The black folks had to come out an' take 
 me away ; an' his own wife had to run out an' git 
 between him an' me. Mars William came home 
 in two or three months, on furlough that was 
 in January before the surrender. He looked at 
 me almost as soon as he come. He examined this 
 scar on my head, an' the scars on my neck an' 
 arms, but he never said a word. Next day, soon 
 after breakfast, he says to me, 'Josh,' says he, 
 'saddle Gamma fer me, an' ole Jake fer yourself.' 
 Ole Jake was that sorrel horse what died two or 
 three years ago. 'Whar you goin', Mars William?' 
 says I. 'That's none of your business,' says he. 
 Well, he come back d'rectly with a cowhide in his 
 hand, feelin' it in his hands as if to see if it was 
 strong an' supple. I 'spicioned somethin', so I 
 says, 'You ain't goin' to ride with a cowhide, is 
 you? I never see you use anythin' but spurs.' 
 An' he wore his spurs then. All he says was, 
 'You'd better hold your tongue.' That was 
 'nough fer me. Well, we got on our horses an' 
 rode up the road he never sayin' a word. Bime- 
 by we come tolluble near Mr. Taylor's house on 
 Mr. Vance's place, an' meets Mr. Taylor walkin' 
 In the road. Mars William got down off'n his
 
 284 THE STRANGER 
 
 horse, an' give me the bridle jist as cool as a 
 cucumber. Then he goes up to Mr. Taylor. Says 
 he, 'Taylor, I've come fer a settlement of that 
 affair between you an' Josh.' Mr. Taylor was a 
 big, strong man, at least forty pound heavier 
 than Mars William. So he answers mighty 
 rough, cussin' 'bout men foolin' in niggers' mat- 
 ters. Then Mars William calm as you ever see 
 axes him 'bout the whole contrivance. Mr. Tay- 
 lor up and tells it 'bout as it was. Mars Wil- 
 liam 'minds him of the 'greement 'bout my goin' 
 there, an' Mr. Taylor never denies it, but talks 
 big 'bout whippin' any nigger on his place, an' 
 whippin' any white man what takes up fer a nig- 
 ger." 
 
 Josh paused and Eleanor said, without know- 
 ing it, "What then?" 
 
 "Then Mars William caught hold of him, an' 
 turned loose with his cowhide. Mr. Taylor was 
 big an' tough an' strong, an' M^ars William was 
 slim and young; but I never seed a thing fly like 
 that cowhide. He whaled that man till he mighty 
 nigh lifted him off the ground. Mr. Taylor hit 
 him once with his fist, an' knocked him back 
 nearly to the horses. I jumped down then to help 
 Mars William; fer I was 'termined to kill that 
 man if Mars William was hurt. 'Damn you !' hol- 
 lers Mars William, 'go back to your horses.' An' 
 then he run on Zeke Taylor an' knocked him 
 down, an' kicked him half across the road. I 
 prayed to the Lord that he would kill him. But 
 he wouldn't do it. He told Zeke Taylor to git up. 
 But when he got up, he whaled him worse than 
 ever. Finally, when Mr. Taylor was cut all to
 
 THE STRANGER 285 
 
 pieces, an' could hardly stand, Mars William says 
 cool as could be, though he was 'bout out o' 
 breath 'Now you've learned the cost of beatin' 
 one of my negroes !' Mr. Taylor says he'll go to 
 the house an' git his gun an' kill Mars William. 
 'All right/ says Mars William, sorter good-na- 
 tured like, 'I'll wait here fer you. I've got my 
 repeater. If you get the advantage, you are wel- 
 come to do your worst; if I get it, I'll kill you.' 
 Mr. Taylor went to his house, a cussin' an' be- 
 meanin'. We stayed there fer half a hour or 
 more; but Mr. Taylor never come. Mr. Taylor 
 quit Mr. Vance's place jist atter the war, an' 
 bought that farm at the fur end of your planta- 
 tion. An' he don't travel the same road as Mars 
 William any more." 
 
 "What of all that?" inquired Margaret. 
 
 "Mr. Zeke Taylor spread it that Mars William 
 killed Bill Bostin; an' he's been seen talkin' 
 several times with the soldiers sence they've been 
 here. An' he was in the crowd with the niggers 
 that run agin' Mars William this mornin'. That's 
 what there is of it." 
 
 Josh's argument was very plausible, it seemed 
 to both Margaret and Eleanor. The servant had 
 studied his master's case. 
 
 As the hour for the opening of school had al- 
 most arrived, Eleanor went away to her duties. 
 She ascertained, however, before leaving the ho- 
 tel, that the train to the county-seat left at four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, and returned at seven 
 in the forenoon. The children were as quiet and 
 sad as their teacher. Not one of them had to be 
 "kept in," At two o'clock the school was dis-
 
 286 THE STRANGER 
 
 missed. Eleanor's dinner was finished by three 
 o'clock. Then she packed a valise, informed Mr. 
 and Mrs. Williams that she purposed to go to the 
 county-seat, and made her way to the station, the 
 serving-woman, in consideration of a dime, cheer- 
 fully carrying her small luggage to the hack- 
 stable. Miss Norton was told nothing. Eleanor 
 saw Huntley and Vaughn board the train, under 
 the guard of three soldiers, just as she reached 
 the station. She was closely veiled, and took a 
 seat at the rear of the one passenger car, and was 
 not recognized by either of the prisoners. 
 
 At half-past four she was at the county-seat. 
 Ten minutes later she met her friend Agnes 
 Meacham at the hotel. 
 
 "What in the world has brought you here, you 
 dear, mean thing?" exclaimed the latter. 
 "Where is the Captain?" asked Eleanor. 
 "Oh !" cried Mrs. Meacham. "You have come 
 to see him, not me, have you." 
 
 "Dear Agnes," returned Eleanor, "bring him in 
 if he is in the house. I will speak to both of you 
 at once, if I can." 
 
 Agnes Meacham was a woman of sense, and the 
 Captain was brought promptly. 
 
 "Now," said Eleanor, after a brief exchange of 
 salutations, "I will tell you my mission, as there 
 is no time to be lost." 
 
 The husband and wife looked at each other, as 
 there was a suspicion that the teacher had lost her 
 mind. Then the Captain invited her to speak. 
 
 "I have come," said Eleanor, "to procure the 
 release of two men who were brought here, on the 
 same train with me, who have been arrested
 
 THE STRANGER 287 
 
 under the regulations relating to Ku Klux out- 
 rages. These two men come from near Cheren- 
 clen. I know them, and their friends, and rela- 
 tions. Let me tell you about them." 
 
 "It is hardly worth while, Miss Eleanor," said 
 the Captain. "I am under orders. What can I 
 do?" 
 
 "Hear me patiently," cried she. 
 
 "You shall be heard," returned the Comman- 
 dant. 
 
 She proceeded to describe Huntley and Vaughn 
 as she thought them to be, describing also the 
 kindness she had received at Margaret Mason's 
 hands, and from her mother, and how the daugh- 
 ter had entertained Miss Norton, her friend. She 
 mentioned, further, the action of Huntley in sus- 
 taining her as teacher of the Cherenden school. 
 
 Mrs. Meacham's sympathy was quickly enlisted, 
 as she showed by joining Eleanor in her appeal 
 for the release of the two prisoners. The Cap- 
 tain, however, gave no sign. 
 
 Eleanor then dwelt upon the kindness of Hunt- 
 ley to his servants and laborers and the affection 
 they exhibited for him; and she repeated the 
 substance of Josh's account of the chastisement 
 Huntley administered to Taylor years ago. She 
 also told Miss Norton's judgment of Huntley. 
 
 The Captain smiled at her enthusiasm, and said, 
 "I suspect that you have a personal interest in this 
 handsome rebel." 
 
 His wife exclaimed vehemently and indignantly 
 against the insinuation. Eleanor replied calmly, 
 that he was to marry her beautiful and noble 
 friend, Margaret Mason,
 
 288 THE STRANGER 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said the Captain, with an 
 expression of contrition. "But I meant no 
 harm." 
 
 "Certainly not," returned Eleanor. "But what 
 are you going to do for us?" 
 
 "I will send for the sergeant who was in 
 charge," said he, "and see what is to be learned. 
 And then I will visit the jail, and see the prisoners. 
 The little man with the high hat and flaxen curls 
 is probably the victim of some low malice; but I 
 doubt about your stalwart philosopher." 
 
 "Well, I hope you will get about it at once," 
 said Mrs. Meacham, with some impatience. 
 
 The Captain laughed, and proceeded to call to 
 a soldier below stairs, and give him some order. 
 
 The three conversed on various subjects until 
 there came a rap at the door of their private sit- 
 ting-room. On an invitation to enter the door 
 was opened, and a tall, powerfully built soldier, 
 with the sergeant's chevrons on his sleeves, en- 
 tered and saluted. 
 
 "Sergeant McGahan," said the Captain, "you 
 arrested and brought to town to-day two citizens 
 Mr. Huntley and Mr. Vaughn." 
 
 "Yes, Cap'n," replied the Sergeant. 
 
 "Now tell us, as well as you recollect (for I have 
 not the lists here), on what charges they were ar- 
 rested." 
 
 "I hear-r-d," answered the Sergeant, "that it 
 was on accounts of a killin' of a negro named Bill 
 Bostin." 
 
 "And do you know who informed against those 
 two men?" 
 
 "Cap'n, it was tould me that Bostin's wife or
 
 THE STRANGER 289 
 
 conkibine, or phatever she is infor-r-med, an' 
 also a white man of the name of Taylor. Though 
 I doesn't know about Taylor; but I seen him at 
 the guard-house siveral times, a talkin' agin 
 Misther Huntley the Kur-r-nel, as I calls him." 
 
 "Aha!" cried Mrs. Meacham, eagerly. 
 
 The Captain motioned her to be silent, and 
 said, "And what was said about Mr. Vaughn?" 
 
 "Och! The little crathur wid de tall hat an' 
 de cur-r-ls? I think he was 'rested on accounts 
 of his bein' the Kur-r-nel's friend." 
 
 "How did they behave? I hear there was a 
 fight on the street as you brought them through 
 the village." 
 
 "Faith, there was," answered the Sergeant, 
 cheerfully ; "an' it was a foine affair !" 
 
 "I do not see anything fine in a fray of that 
 sort," said the Captain, sternly. 
 
 "Well, Cap'n," said Sergeant McGahan, salut- 
 ing, "it ain't often that a foight is good while sol- 
 diers is on juty; but this was altogither out o' 
 the common run. You see the privates was a 
 little in front escortin' the man wid the hat an' 
 cur-r-ls, an' me an' the Kur-r-nel was a-walkin' 
 behin', talkin' as gintlemen ujually talks. An' the 
 Kur-r-nel's a mighty smart man, I can tell ye, 
 wid a figur as I never seen the beat of. So while 
 we was a-talkin', up comes a crowd of nagurs 
 an' one white man an' begins to bemane de 
 Kur-r-nel. So I says, 'You stop that. The 
 Kur-r-nel's in my charge, an' I'll be ' beg your 
 pardon, Cap'n, an' fair ladies, but I got into hab- 
 its of swearin' in airly life, an' I can't hardly quit 
 19
 
 290 THE STRANGER 
 
 'em now; but I says nobody can insult him. But 
 they goes on; till fin'ly the Kur-r-nel says " 
 
 "He's no colonel, Sergeant," interrupted the 
 officer. 
 
 "Well," resumed the Sergeant, "he ought to be. 
 An' if he was at the head of an Oirish rigiment 
 he'd make the foinest fight as ever was seen in 
 this worruld. . Hows'ever, the Kur-r-nel says, 
 after a bit, 'Sergeant, I'll have to knock down a 
 nagur or two. What do you say?' 'Well,' says I, 
 'no soldier an' Oirishman is goin' to see his friend 
 impojed upon. So you can count on me to 
 shtand by you, wheniver it comes to a case of 
 needcessity.' Then they just rushes on the 
 Kur-r-nel. Cap'n, it would 'a' done your heart 
 good to see the Kur-r-nel. A bug nagur forty 
 or fifty poun' heavier as the Kur-r-nel, an' taller, 
 come at him. The Kur-r-nel let fly; an' I never 
 see a nater lick since I was bor-r-n. That nagur 
 fell as good as dead eyes smashed, nose 
 smashed, mouth smashed. It was truly a divar- 
 sion to see him go doon." 
 
 "And what happened then?" asked the Captain, 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Well," resumed the Sergeant, "thin up coomes 
 another nagur as big as the fir-rst. Now the 
 Kur-r-nel was wantin' to doon him too. But I 
 sees that the Kur-r-nel's hand was a-bladin' frum 
 the lick he gives the far-r-st man. So I pushes him 
 aside. You see I was to protect the prisoners of 
 the Gover-r-mint. So I lets fly onto this one. 
 An' doon he comes, right on top of the Kur-r-nel's 
 man. But I must say that I belave that the Kur-r- 
 pel hit better as me,"
 
 THE STRANGER 291 
 
 "Why, Sergeant," cried the Captain, "it looks 
 as if you had a very discreditable row!" 
 
 "Ah, Cap'n," said Sergeant McGahan, enthu- 
 siastically, "it was one of the foinest rows you 
 ever seen! Up comes the man Taylor. The 
 Kur-r-nel jist slaps him on the jaw, an' thin he 
 goes on the groun'. An' by that time the gar-rd 
 sees what's goin' on. An' him wid the tall hat an' 
 yaller curl, he sees it; an' he r-runs. An' he 
 slaps a nagur. An' another nagur knocks his hat 
 off, an' all on us tramples on the hat. An' the 
 men hits right an' lift. An' Private Joe Swaney, 
 he lifts a nagur 'most off the airth wid a punch 
 under the jaw. An' Private Roach, he hits a na- 
 gur on the ear an' sends him wabblin' across the 
 strait. An' the Kur-r-nel knocks down one or 
 two more, fer all his han' was a blaclin'. An'- 
 an' I gits in a lick or two more meself." 
 
 "Sergeant! Sergeant!" cried the Captain. 
 "This is outrageous. What were you thinking 
 of?" 
 
 "Sor-r!" returned the loud-voiced man, "Oi 
 was thinkin' of the land o' the free an' the home 
 o' the brave. An' Oi was a thinkin' of the flag!" 
 
 "What about the flag?" 
 
 "The flag is always where the sodgers of the 
 United States is on juty!" 
 
 Mrs. Meacham and Eleanor could not refrain 
 from applauding the Irishman. The Captain as- 
 sumed a cold air, and said: 
 
 "You brought your prisoners here?" 
 
 "Yis, indade. They comes wid us." 
 
 "Are they in jail?" 
 
 "Yis, sor-r. An' I hope they'll be comfor-rt-
 
 292 THE STRANGER 
 
 able. I give the Kur-r-nel some of my blankets; 
 an' Joe Swaney give the little man wid the high 
 hat some of his; an' we got 'em somethin' to 
 dhrink (though they don't dhrink as I thought 
 they ought to) ; an' we got 'em some seegars an' 
 ice, an' didn't allow the Kur-r-nel to pay for 'em ; 
 an' we've had a good square mail of vittels sint 
 'em ; an' now they is a-smokin an' a talkin' ; an' 
 the men is mighty glad to have the s'ciety of raal 
 gintlemen. An' nothin' is goin' to happen." 
 
 "It looks as if this Colonel, as you call him, 
 had magnetized you," said the Captain. 
 
 "I don't know, sor-r," replied the Sergeant, 
 "about magnetizin' ; but I knows he's a foine gin- 
 tleman, an' I knows his own nagur Josh coma to 
 the gar-r-d-house to see him an' went away a- 
 cryin'." 
 
 Captain Meacham sat silent a little while, then 
 he said he would look into the matter, and then 
 he and the Sergeant went away together. 
 
 Just before sunset he returned, but instead of 
 discussing the object of Eleanor Field's visit, pro- 
 posed to take her and his wife driving. Mrs. 
 Meacham consented at once; but Eleanor de- 
 clined, saying that she did not care to be known 
 as being in the town, and that she would hardly 
 enjoy a ride. On her insisting that the others 
 should take their airing, they went, and did not 
 return until dusk. Then she renewed her appli- 
 cation to the Commandant with increased ear- 
 nestness. 
 
 He seemed to be perplexed. At last she said, 
 "Tell me plainly, Captain, if it is out of your 
 power to help me."
 
 THE STRANGER 293 
 
 "I don't see how I can do it," returned he, rather 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Well, Arthur," interposed his wife, "I think 
 you might speak in a courteous tone, whether you 
 can help us or not." 
 
 "I beg pardon," said he. "I did not mean to 
 be anything but thoroughly polite and consider- 
 ate to Miss Field; but I am worried to think that 
 I cannot do as she wishes. By the way, it seems 
 that you also would be helped by my granting her 
 request." 
 
 "I certainly should," replied she, promptly, 
 "and I should have thought that you saw that 
 from the beginning." 
 
 "Is it the tall, dark athlete, or the delicate gen- 
 tleman with golden locks that is to be cared for?" 
 asked her husband, jestingly. 
 
 "That's like a man!" exclaimed Agnes Meach- 
 am, indignantly. "A woman is never credited 
 with any better motive than personal interest or 
 sentimentality. These two are Eleanor's friends, 
 and in some sense her benefactors; and you will 
 not deny that they have been shown to be gen- 
 tlemen far above any crime." 
 
 "Oh !" retorted he. "Very intellectual and good- 
 mannered men have often committed crimes." 
 
 "Then," cried his wife, with that trying direct- 
 ness which characterizes women's arguments, "tell 
 us if you think that either of these is such a man." 
 
 "Now," said the Captain, "let me act Scotch- 
 man with you, and answer with a question. How 
 much are you indebted to Southern chivalry and 
 that kind of thing? How many of the excellent
 
 294 THE STRANGER 
 
 rebels have done you a kindness or given you 
 even recognition?" 
 
 "Those are not proper questions," answered 
 Mrs. Meacham. "It does not matter whether 
 they have helped me or recognized me, or even 
 whether they have treated me decently. These 
 two, you cannot deny, are not of the material 
 criminals are made of. Can you? They have 
 claims on me and should have on my husband 
 through my own dear friend Eleanor Field. 
 They are persecuted by stupid negroes, led no 
 doubt by that brute Taylor. Every account 
 points directly that way. But while we are talk- 
 ing of treatment by the men of this section, I do 
 not hesitate to say, not only that I have never re- 
 .ceived an unkind word or look from a man in the 
 South, but that I have never traveled, or gone 
 shopping, or been in any place, without seeing 
 every man give way to me and forbear to do or 
 accept anything until I was served. You never 
 heard a coarse word or a loud one, when these 
 men have been aware of my presence. You know 
 that boisterous altercations have ceased at once 
 whenever I approached a crowd engaged in such. 
 You know that when I walk in the hotel or on the 
 streets they give place to me. You know that 
 when I go into a store every man stands aside, 
 and waits for me to be attended to; that when I 
 go to the railway ticket office they retire in my 
 favor; and that they often doff their hats to me 
 on the street in the most respectful manner." 
 
 "Deny it, Captain, if you can!" cried Eleanor, 
 entering into her friend's enthusiasm.
 
 THE STRANGER 295 
 
 "I can't deny it," said he, laughing good-hu- 
 moredly. 
 
 "Well, then," said his wife, "tell us foolish 
 women what is in the way of your doing a hand- 
 some thing now." 
 
 "Can't you understand that I have not the au- 
 thority?" cried the officer, rising and striding 
 over the floor. 
 
 "Why haven't you the authority?" demanded 
 his wife. 
 
 "Because I do not make the laws." 
 
 "Yes; but you have some discretion in enforc- 
 ing them." 
 
 "But I must enforce them discreetly." 
 
 "Lack-a-day !" exclaimed Agnes Meacham, 
 sarcastically. "Discreet discretion! I thought a 
 military man eschewed metaphysics and avoided 
 foolish tautology. But this is the age of philoso- 
 phers!" 
 
 "Well, now, Mrs. Meacham," said her husband, 
 "let me ask you a question or two. Who has 
 shown you any attention in the South ? Who has 
 called on you? Who has made you welcome to 
 the church where you have worshiped? On the 
 other hand, what newspaper has failed to pro- 
 claim the Government a cruel tyranny, and its 
 officers a heartless constabulary? What public 
 speaker has omitted an opportunity to revile the 
 people of the North? What have you and I ex- 
 perienced here except the most studied ostra- 
 cism?" 
 
 "Put yourself in their place," cried his wife. 
 "What would you have done if the relations of the 
 two sections had been reversed?"
 
 2g6 THE STRANGER 
 
 "I should have been quite as uncompromising 
 as they are," replied he frankly. "But the two 
 cases would have been entirely different. We are 
 the lawful government, attempting to enforce the 
 principles of the Constitution which binds them 
 and us, and they persist, even after four years of 
 murderous warfare, in resisting the lawful author- 
 ities who endeavor to carry out the laws." 
 
 "Who is to judge?" retorted Mrs. Meacham. 
 "Did they not think they were right in seceding 
 from the Union? Do they not think they are 
 right in resisting the encroachments on the lib- 
 erties they claim to be entitled to?" 
 
 "You are very magnanimous!" said he. 
 
 "Pardon me, Captain," said Eleanor. "I have 
 suffered quite as much from sectional prejudice as 
 you have, and I have no doubt that I have suf- 
 fered more Irom ostracism; but as bitter as 
 those things are, I cannot forget that I have found 
 substantial friends here." 
 
 "Two or three perhaps half a dozen," sug- 
 gested the officer. 
 
 "But ought not those few to be all the more 
 considered on account of the smallness of their 
 number?" said Eleanor. 
 
 "The law is in general terms always," rejoined 
 the Captain. "Some innocent persons suffer from 
 any general rule." 
 
 "Yes," said Eleanor; "but not when they do 
 not come within the description of the persons to 
 be punished." 
 
 "You women are making out a strong case," 
 admitted the Captain. "Now please inform me 
 how I can do anything."
 
 THE STRANGER 
 
 "You can turn these two men loose," answered 
 his wife positively. 
 
 "That's cool," said he. "But this is a Gordian 
 knot that cannot be cut in that fashion." 
 
 Eleanor went to an open window, and stood 
 looking out at the people who walked the street. 
 She was sick at heart. Perhaps there was selfish- 
 ness in her wish to deserve and preserve the 
 friendship of the few who had been kind to her; 
 but she felt that there was also an imperative 
 duty to discharge. After a few minutes she re- 
 turned to Captain Meacham and his wife. She 
 did not know it, but there were tears in her eyes. 
 
 "Captain Meacham," she cried, desperately, 
 "tell me if you will not help me, and let me go 
 home. If I cannot do this thing, I will not, I can- 
 not, I dare not ever look Margaret Mason in the 
 face again. Hear my last appeal, selfish as it is, 
 and unfair as it may seem. If you refuse me, I 
 shall return, at the end of this week, to my im- 
 poverished and unhappy family, to share their 
 scant living and their troubles. If you will not 
 interpose in behalf of my friends, will you not do 
 me this kindness?" 
 
 "I have to obey orders," said the soldier. 
 
 Just then there arose the shrill sound of a bell, 
 tingled and jingled in the hand of the hotel boy 
 whose business it was to summon guests to the 
 evening meal. 
 
 "That is the supper-bell," said the Captain. 
 "Let us go to tea." 
 
 Seeing that Eleanor neither stirred nor an- 
 swered, Agnes Meacham went to her and touched 
 her shoulder, saying, "Let us go to tea."
 
 298 THE STRANGER 
 
 "No, I do not wish tea," responded Eleanor. "I 
 will not detain you, however. I will go to my 
 room." 
 
 "Oh, come with us," cried the officer heartily. 
 "You are tired, and will be better for some food. 
 And after tea we can talk together." 
 
 "Good-by, Captain Meacham," said Eleanor, 
 offering her hand. "I shall not see you again 
 soon. I shall not again trouble you to-night. I 
 shall go to Cherenden on the early train to- 
 morrow, to make preparation for the ending of 
 my business there. I will therefore take such rest 
 as I can to-night." 
 
 The Commandant took her hand reluctantly. 
 
 "I should like to talk further with you," said 
 he. "I should be glad to show you that I intend 
 to act both justly and humanely. I regret that 
 you will go away thinking that I am doing wrong. 
 But God knows that I am trying to be humane as 
 well as right. But sha'n't I see you again before 
 you go?" 
 
 "I think not," replied Eleanor, and then she 
 walked rapidly to her own chamber. 
 
 While she sat there the darkness came on, and 
 the stars appeared dimly through the heated, 
 dust-laden air. One after another of the sounds 
 of the town died away. The boy ceased his 
 whistle, the long-drawn tones of countrymen on 
 the streets tortured the ear no longer, and the 
 youth retired, with their vacant laugh, to other 
 places even the negro passed out of hearing 
 with his dolorous wails about his "darlinV 
 
 At last only the voluptuous south wind was au- 
 dible, sighing through the mighty oaks and whis-
 
 paring among sleeping flowers, and after a while 
 she experienced a sensation of quiet and resigna- 
 tion which steeped her senses in restful compos- 
 ure. 
 
 She was somewhat irritated when she heard an 
 impatient knock at her door, but it was a relief 
 to find that it was only her friend Agnes 
 Meacham. 
 
 "Why, Agnes!" cried Eleanor. "What time is 
 it?" 
 
 "Half-past eleven," answered the other. "But 
 did you think I would let you go away without 
 seeing you again ?" 
 
 "I scarcely know what I thought about that," 
 answered Eleanor, pressing her cold hands 
 against her aching head. "I suppose I did not 
 think of it at all." 
 
 "Well," pursued her friend, "I have had quite 
 an argument with my husband. It seems to be 
 a very, very hard matter to manage, since he has 
 shown me all the obstacles in the way. But we 
 need not despair just yet. Come and talk with 
 us." 
 
 "There seems to be no use to press it further," 
 returned the teacher despondingly. "I should as 
 well let it rest, it appears to me." 
 
 "No, no," protested Agnes Meacham, energetic- 
 ally. "Come with me. He is waiting for us." 
 
 They found the Commandment in the private 
 sitting-room where she had left husband and wife 
 three or four hours before. He was pacing the 
 floor impatiently. On their entrance, however, 
 he bade them welcome, closed the door and pro- 
 ceeded to speak.
 
 300 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Hear me through," said he, still standing-. 
 "My orders are very brief and very positive. I 
 am to cause my men to arrest any and all persons 
 named in lists sent to me. I do not prepare these 
 lists. I do not see them till they are sent to me. 
 I am authorized to make arrests on my own judg- 
 ment, and of my own will; and I am invited to 
 suggest additional names to those reported by 
 others to my superior officers. But I am not al- 
 lowed any discretion in arresting those whose 
 names are forwarded to me. So far, I have not 
 suggested a single name; nor have we arrested 
 any man who was not on the lists. I am inclined 
 to take hold of this man Taylor on general prin- 
 ciples, for I learn that he is a malicious, low, busy- 
 body playing on the negroes for his own gain. I 
 also learn that he was a very cruel overseer in the 
 days of slavery, and that he has treated several 
 negroes brutally within the last few years. But, 
 as I have stated, I have been, as it seems to me 
 I ought to be, except in very peculiar cases, 
 purely an executive officer. I certainly have no 
 authority to release a prisoner. I should exer- 
 cise authority, in a case of life and death, to the 
 extent of liberating a man from jail, under such 
 guard as might appear necessary. But your case 
 is not of this kind. You see that the release, on 
 my own judgment merely, of a single prisoner, 
 might subject me to a court-martial, and might 
 render me powerless, for all time, to afford any real 
 relief to the object of my mistaken humanity." 
 
 "I see the force of what you say," said the 
 teacher gloomily. 
 
 "But don't let that dishearten you," pursued he.
 
 THE STRANGER 301 
 
 replying mostly to her tone of voice. "I believe 
 that the general commanding this district has 
 some faith in my judgment. I know he does not 
 doubt my loyalty or my courage to perform my 
 duties. It is possible that I can make such rep- 
 resentations to him concerning your two friends 
 as will move him to grant your request. I have 
 never asked any such favor of him or any favor 
 whatever. He may feel that he can afford to trust 
 me. Would your two friends observe their pa- 
 roles?" 
 
 "I would stake my life on it!" exclaimed El- 
 eanor. 
 
 "H m!" said the officer. "It would try the 
 nerve of even a brave man, and test the con- 
 science of a very honorable one. No one can 
 foretell the result of a prosecution for Ku Klux- 
 ing." 
 
 "It could not cost one his life, could it?" asked 
 Eleanor, nervously. 
 
 "Not directly," answered the Captain; "but a 
 term of several years in a Northern penitentiary, 
 which might be one's sentence if convicted, might 
 cost a man his life, and would certainly cause him 
 great misery." 
 
 "It would be a trial," said Eleanor in a low 
 voice. "Still, I feel sure that neither Mr. Huntley 
 nor Mr. Vaughn would fail you." 
 
 "What about the young men Jarvis Jenkins 
 what's his name? That countryman from the 
 same neighborhood?" 
 
 "Oh, Jernigan Thomas Jernigan?" said El- 
 eanor. "What about him?"
 
 302 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Well," said the Captain, "he looks to be a very 
 good-natured, dull, harmless sort of a fellow." 
 
 "We are not after any Jernigan, Arthur," cried 
 his wife rather petulantly. "Let us come back to 
 the men whose cases are before you." 
 
 "The matter of Jernigan is not quite so irrele- 
 vant as it may seem to you, my dear," returned 
 her husband, "Listen. To liberate only two men, 
 both of whom are prominent and wealthy " 
 
 "Mr. Vaughn is said to be not at all wealthy," in- 
 terrupted the teacher. 
 
 "It's pretty much the same," proceeded the 
 Captain. "His parents own a lot of land, and have 
 considerable means, and he ranks rather among 
 the aristocracy. Now, as I started to say, it 
 might look suspicious to set free two such men, 
 and only those two. An officer, so doing or seek- 
 ing to do so, might be suspected of being influ- 
 enced by bribery or social considerations, while 
 to be kind to a very poor and humble person 
 would indicate only kindness of heart and mo- 
 tives of justice." 
 
 "I see," cried his wife with enthusiasm. "We'll 
 get Mr. Jernigan liberated 'also; and that will 
 make it all right for your reputation. Of course, 
 let us include Mr. Jernigan." 
 
 "Not so fast," said the Captain. "It's not clear 
 that anybody will get off. I only suggest this 
 man, who seems to be a good sort of person, and 
 on whom his family seem to depend, so as to sat- 
 isfy doubts of one's motives." 
 
 Eleanor now spoke kindly and earnestly of the 
 simple-minded Tom and his sister. 
 
 "Now," continued Captain Meacham, "I will
 
 THE STRANGER 303 
 
 do all I can for you. It is just this. I will go to 
 
 , the capital of this State, where General - 
 is. I can reach there to-morrow night. I will 
 speak to him that night or the following day as 
 soon as I can get a hearing. I will urge him, not 
 only by your arguments and statements, Miss El- 
 eanor, but on my own account, to permit me to 
 release those three men on parole. I believe that 
 all three men are as clear of Ku Kluxing as I am. 
 I believe, on your assurance mostly, but some- 
 what from my own opinion of them, that they will 
 respect their promises to come when called for, for 
 I believe that proud, dare-devil Huntley will make 
 the other two toe the mark if they attempt to 
 shirk. And I'll require him, if I succeed, to stand 
 surety for the other two." 
 
 "And they for him, of course," suggested Mrs. 
 Meacham, with a business air. 
 
 "No, indeed," cried the officer, laughing loudly. 
 "They wouldn't add a thread's strength to his 
 undertaking. He'd wring the neck of either one 
 of them that tried to bring him to jail or trial." 
 
 "You are harsh," remonstrated Eleanor Field. 
 
 "Pardon me. I did not mean to offend you. 
 But I must confess that I have only spoken my 
 opinion of that silent, haughty man. However, 
 you have my plan. You will know the result be- 
 fore the close of the week. So, if you won't stay 
 here with us, you can go to Cherenden and possess 
 your soul in patience, for three or four days." 
 
 "And you won't send in your resignation until 
 you hear from us?" pleaded Mrs. Meacham. 
 
 Eleanor did not see much promise of success 
 in the officer's scheme; but it was plain that
 
 304 THE STRANGER 
 
 whether he could or not, it was the most he would 
 do for her, and she therefore felt bound to forego 
 further argument or request. She agreed to 
 withhold her resignation from the school until 
 the captain had exhausted his efforts to procure 
 the liberation of the prisoners, and the early train 
 next morning carried her back to the village.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Eleanor's promise to withhold her resignation 
 of the school proved, however, haider to keep 
 than she had thought it would. In less than 
 forty-eight hours after her return to Cherenden 
 it appeared to her doubtful whether she would be 
 allowed to retain her situation, or at least have 
 any pupils to teach. On the Tuesday morning 
 after her visit to the county-seat, though the 
 weather was calm and fine, she was met by only 
 twenty pupils the number on the school roll 
 being thirty-four. Most of these twenty con- 
 ducted themselves about as usual; but three of 
 them were negligent and sullen, and she had to 
 reprove two for impertinent language. Four of 
 them had to be kept in at recess and compelled 
 to study again, and recite one or more lessons 
 of the early morning. During the recess at twelve 
 o'clock she observed that there was little playing 
 among the pupils, but that nearly all of them kept 
 at a distance from the school-room and seemed 
 engaged in earnest conversation. She naturally 
 suspected that this evil turn of affairs was the 
 result, either of seven arrests made in or near the 
 village during the afternoon and night of Mon- 
 day, or particularly of the arrest of Huntley and 
 Vaughn, the most prominent persons hitherto 
 taken. The arrest of Huntley was well calcu- 
 lated to excite the children, for, in addition to 
 his importance in their eyes otherwise, he was 
 20
 
 306 THE STRANGER 
 
 the chief trustee of the school, and, she knew, 
 greatly respected and admired by them. She 
 also knew that Vaughn's gentle and friendly man- 
 ners rendered him popular with all the inhabitants 
 of the place. She was strongly confirmed in her 
 suspicion by^ seeing the children constantly and 
 steadily eyeing her during the day. She could 
 not imagine whether they suspected her of com- 
 plicity in the arrests, or whether they only con- 
 demned her for showing no sign of sympathy 
 with the distress and alarm of the community, or 
 whether they grew only more opposed to her as 
 the arrests went on. She feared that her journey 
 to the county-seat had become known, and occur- 
 ing as it did immediately on the arrest of Huntley 
 and Vaughn, and being followed in a few hours 
 by the arrest of several others in and near the 
 town, whom she might be expected to know, 
 though she did not know one of these last, the 
 citizens, or at least these children, had come to 
 impute to her an active participation in what they 
 considered the grievous persecution of their 
 people. 
 
 Tortured as she was by such an apprehension, 
 it was difficult for her to remain silent. Her 
 inclination was to make public her visit to the 
 military post, its purpose, and all the facts attend- 
 ing it, and then resign her position, and go back 
 home. But as often as that course suggested 
 itself, her judgment assured her that by adopting 
 it she might most effectually prevent the liber- 
 ation of her friends. Moreover, the bare mention 
 of her intimacy with Captain Meacham and his 
 wife, and of her application to him in consequence
 
 THE STRANGER 307 
 
 of such intimacy, might suggest to the ignorant 
 people about her inability to deliver from the im- 
 prisonment whomsoever she would which would, 
 in a measure, make her responsible for any man's 
 remaining in jail. 
 
 There was no one to ,whom she could go for 
 counsel. Any granite boulder would have been 
 as available as Rachel Norton. Mr. Williams was 
 too much wrought up to be capable of dispas- 
 sionate advice, and he was counsel for several of 
 the prisoners. Margaret Mason was too much 
 interested in William Huntley to be expected to 
 judge with impartiality; and besides, it would 
 be little short of brutal to put her to such a test. 
 The two remaining trustees would amount to 
 nothing in a dilemma of this gravity. If William 
 Huntley had been there she might have gone to 
 him, cold and distant and gloomy as he was, for 
 she was persuaded that no genuine and virtuous 
 distress would be altogether slighted by him, no 
 difficulty or responsibility evaded. But, alas, the 
 one clear intellect, the one truly brave heart to 
 her in all that region except the intellect and 
 heart of Margaret Mason chafed within the walls 
 of a common jail. A thrill of horror shot through 
 her as she now thought of that proud, gallant, ac- 
 complished man breathing the foul vapors of a 
 dungeon and sharing the lot and the company of 
 vile midnight assassins. 
 
 And her obdurate and impractical visitor was a 
 millstone about her neck. This woman, known to 
 all the village to be a New Englander, and seen 
 by them to glare and glower at every person and 
 everything she encouptered, was likely to be
 
 308 THE STRANGER 
 
 somewhat associated in the minds of the people 
 with the misfortunes they were undergoing. No 
 reasoning person could believe that such a woman 
 could contribute, in the least, to the enforcement 
 of the laws and the orders of the chief executive 
 officer of the United States. But she was here, 
 she was a person whose sentiments were in all 
 probability against the inhabitants, and she was 
 Eleanor Field's close friend and in some sense her 
 guest. The very intangibleness of the connection 
 between this woman and the prosecutions, and of 
 her connection with the teacher, was, in the cir- 
 cumstances, calculated to heighten the feeling of 
 opposition to the latter. Whatever we are un- 
 able to measure or account for we estimate out 
 of all proportion with what we see, especially 
 when our minds are already excited. A terror- 
 stricken community finds in every new or strange 
 appearance fresh cause for apprehension and 
 alarm. No one intimated to Eleanor Field, by 
 word or action, that she was thus visited on ac- 
 count of her association with Rachel Norton ; but 
 knowing mankind as she did, and knowing the 
 ignorance and prejudice of the people of the place 
 as she did, it was plain to Eleanor that her well- 
 meaning old friend was a fresh weight dragging 
 her down. 
 
 On Wednesday, the second day after her re- 
 turn, there were but fifteen pupils at school. It 
 appeared to her that these were more set against 
 her than they had been the day before. Even Jake 
 Haxwell was sullen. Not one of the advanced 
 scholars was there, not even Jennie Lane. Some 
 of those who came, while speaking to her or re-
 
 THE STRANGER 309 
 
 citing lessons, exhibited a nervousness which in- 
 dicated positive dread of her. This was to her the 
 cruelest blow of all, indicating, as it did, that she 
 was held to be malignant and dangerous. 
 
 Mr. Williams did not show himself at dinner 
 that day. On inquiry of his melancholy wife, 
 Eleanor learned that he had gone to the county- 
 seat on an early freight train, in company with 
 some newly arrested clients and their guard. Mrs. 
 Williams remarked, after -a long pause, that the 
 teacher ate very little, and looked unusually 
 weary. The latter avoided any positive answer, and 
 soon quitted the table. There was no disagree- 
 ment between the two; but it seemed best to the 
 teacher that they should be together as little as their 
 relations would allow. 
 
 No tidings had come, so far, from Captain 
 Meacham or his wife. A letter came to Eleanor 
 from her mother, but it only brought new pain 
 to the reader; for Mrs. Field had learned some- 
 thing of the occurrences in this section, and being, 
 as she stated in her letter, quite ill and debilitated, 
 she had given expression to regrets and apprehen- 
 sions. The accounts which had reached her were, 
 of course, greatly exaggerated beyond the facts, 
 lamentable as these were; but as they furnished 
 the mother her only information she naturally 
 adopted them. The daughter now saw her mis- 
 take in avoiding all mention of such things in her 
 letters to her family, and she wondered how she 
 could ever have fallen into the error of absolute 
 silence in regard to the situation. She had in- 
 tended to break the intelligence gradually, but 
 between her anxiety to postpone a thing unpleas-
 
 310 THE STRANGER 
 
 ant alike to her and to them and her hope that she 
 would soon be able to inform them that the trou- 
 ble was over, she had failed to give them any in- 
 formation whatever. 
 
 The answer to this letter was not to be post- 
 poned, and she at once set about writing it. Her 
 first efforts were dismal failures. Sheet after 
 sheet had to be torn up and thrown aside sheets 
 scrawled thick with interlineations and blotted 
 with erasures, or stained with bitter tears. In this 
 labor she became unconscious of her material sur- 
 roundings, till a palpable diminution of light 
 caused her to look through the window near which 
 she wrote. A dark cloud was swiftly passing be- 
 tween her and the declining sun, and sent forth 
 lightning and loud peals of thunder. In a mo- 
 ment rain began to fall, and she paused and rested, 
 watching the pour of water, the many streams 
 that hurried over the ground, the long-limbed oaks 
 swaying before the blast, and the jagged lightning 
 that illuminated the obscurity with frequent 
 flashes. 
 
 Soon the storm cloud swept away to the east, 
 and the sun, setting amid flying remnants of gold 
 and crimson clouds, poured floods of soft amber 
 light over field and forest shining with raindrops. 
 She resumed her task, struggling with a language 
 which seemed resolutely obdurate to her efforts 
 for expression, and struggling with her own com- 
 plicated and exasperating thoughts. She made 
 better progress now. Her persistent effort, as- 
 sisted by the freshness of the evening air, car- 
 ried her gradually into a more cheerful train of 
 thought, and into more felicitous expression. Yet
 
 THE STRANGER 311 
 
 the summons to the melancholy evening meal 
 found her still engaged in the task. 
 
 The old lawyer had not returned. He was to 
 remain at the county-seat till the next day per- 
 haps longer. So she moped through a dull half 
 hour with her hostess, and after that went back 
 to her chamber, where she wrote till midnight.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 The next morning, Thursday, she called on her 
 way to school, at the post, posted her letter, and 
 inquired for her mail. There was none for her. 
 For an instant she was inclined to resent the pro- 
 tracted silence of Agnes Meacham; but she promptly 
 put aside all such thought, assuring herself that only 
 some sufficient cause could have led her lifelong 
 friend to preserve silence in the existing circum- 
 stances. 
 
 This charitable thought, however, was largely 
 the result of an improved temper of mind. She 
 was now enjoying, temporarily at least, that capa- 
 city of endurance which often comes to men 
 and oftener to women after violent perturba- 
 tion of the spirit. Such rallies are sometimes so 
 sudden and so pronounced that they appear to 
 be a positive inspiration or the work of a special 
 providence. Probably they are only the reaction 
 which nature provides to succeed any excessive 
 excitement either in the material or in the spirit- 
 ual system, and are therefore no more remark- 
 able than any other natural occurrences. But 
 often the change is so great, and the comfort de- 
 rived from it so intense, that it is not strange 
 that we should regard the relief an actual and 
 miraculous illumination of the soul. This was 
 her feeling as she went, stronger and more con- 
 tented than she had been for many days, to the 
 unpromising employment of the school-room. 
 
 Her feelings were scarcely chilled by the dis-
 
 THE STRANGER 313 
 
 covery that only twelve pupils were in attendance. 
 It was quite as she expected it would be, and she 
 took charge with composure and some confidence. 
 Her self-possession enabled her to influence these 
 twelve more thoroughly than she had done of late. 
 The children were languid and listless at first; 
 but as the day wore on they caught something 
 of her energy and became cheerful. She had to 
 be very careful; for she recognized occasionally 
 in herself a tendency to hasten too much, and also 
 an inclination to laugh at nothing. These things 
 convinced her that she was hysterical, and that 
 her lightness of spirit was itself evidence of a new 
 form of nervous derangement. But she con- 
 trolled herself, and at the close of school hours, 
 she was able to carry with her the pleasant con- 
 viction of a good day's work and tolerably appre- 
 ciative children. 
 
 At dinner she met Mr. Williams. The old gen- 
 tleman looked fatigued; but his eye was bright, 
 and he talked freely and agreeably. Even his sad 
 wife seemed somewhat animated. The conversa- 
 tion gave no intimation of the cause of this im- 
 proved temper of the household ; yet Eleanor con- 
 stantly imagined that the lawyer was on the point 
 of throwing light upon it. 
 
 There befell her another reaction a depression 
 succeeding her, for those days, unwonted cheer- 
 fulness. As soon as the meal was ended she 
 sought her room, and lay down on the sofa near 
 one of the front windows to rest. As she fell into 
 a light slumber she heard the lawyer's voice be- 
 low stairs in rapid and earnest speech to his wife. 
 After what seemed to her but a moment, she
 
 3H THE STRANGER 
 
 heard that voice crying to her in loud, clear tones. 
 Rushing, half-awake, to the door, she called to 
 know what he had said. 
 
 "Look out of your front window!" yelled the 
 lawyer from the front piazza. "Ha, ha, ha ! Look 
 out of your front window, Miss Field. Quick, 
 quick!"' 
 
 She ran to the window and looked. She saw 
 three men on horseback going from the town to- 
 ward the country. At the same glance she saw 
 that one of them was a long, stooping countryman 
 riding a mule, that the second was a delicate man 
 with a crumpled silk hat, bestriding a long, gaunt 
 sorrel steed, and that the third was tall and slender 
 and rode a coal-black horse that fretted to be 
 allowed a greater speed. 
 
 "Thank God! Thank God!" she exclaimed, 
 and fell fainting to the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Perhaps it is commonly the case, perhaps it is 
 not; but the narrator of this story, who has sev- 
 eral times had the misfortune to faint, has invari- 
 ably experienced, immediately on restoration to 
 consciousness, the return of his thoughts to the 
 identical matter on which they were engaged* at 
 the beginning of his syncope. So it was with 
 Eleanor Field. On recovering her senses eight 
 or ten minutes after her fall her first thought 
 was to inspect further the passing horsemen, and 
 she accordingly sprang up and hastened to the 
 window through which she had seen them. She 
 was greatly surprised to find the street empty, 
 and without even a haze of dust to show that any 
 rider had gone by that way. It was only after 
 considering the fact of her having risen from the 
 floor that she realized that her joy at the sight 
 of the liberated prisoners had caused her to faint. 
 
 When she heard as she did a few seconds 
 later the sound of a galloping horse in the street 
 she was inclined to question that conclusion ; but 
 on looking again she discovered only one man 
 and a single horse a tall, neatly-dressed 1 negro 
 riding, venire a terre, a black horse very like Hunt- 
 ley's Delta, and as full of fire as that spirited mare. 
 Then she said aloud to herself, "That must be 
 faithful Josh, hurrying to overtake his master on 
 his way home." And so it was. Josh, it was 
 learned afterward, had been notified, through a 
 telegram from Huntley that morning, to bring
 
 316 THE STRANGER 
 
 in the horses of the three neighbors Huntley, 
 Vaughn and Jernigan, to meet them when they 
 should arrive on the afternoon freight train, and 
 had done so, and was now following them home. 
 Recollecting that the lawyer had called her atten- 
 tion to the liberated men, and that she had so 
 far made no answer to him, she ran down stairs, 
 hoping that she might still be in time to satisfy 
 any suspicion he might have of her fainting. She 
 found him in the hall talking energetically to his 
 wife. 
 
 "Well," said he, when the teacher made her 
 appearance, "did you see three men go by? They 
 were what I intended to direct your attention to; 
 but as I have heard nothing further from you I 
 have wondered if you understood me. 
 
 "Yes," returned Eleanor, with as much com- 
 posure as she could command, "I saw Mr. Hunt- 
 ley, Mr. Vaughn, and Mr. Jernigan (he was the 
 third, was he not?) ride past. I was very glad 
 to see that they had been released from prison." 
 
 "It was a curious thing," continued Mr. Wil- 
 liams. "I went to town on Tuesday, in behalf 
 professionally, you understand" and here he 
 assumed a severe and lofty voice "of one of the 
 men arrested here early that morning. I saw 
 our three friends at the jail. Huntley told me 
 that he had no idea when they would be turned 
 loose if ever. I offered my services to him. 
 I could do that without violence to professional dig- 
 nity, as he is a a connection of mine, and I had 
 no idea of charging any fee for what I might do 
 for him. I did not make any such offer to
 
 THE STRANGER 317 
 
 Vaughn or Jernigan, you comprehend, Miss Field, 
 or any one else. 
 
 "Certainly," said Eleanor. "I understand the 
 purely personal and friendly nature of your posi- 
 tion." 
 
 "To be sure," cried Mr. Williams, with satis- 
 faction. "I knew you would at once see that I 
 did nothing could consent to nothing that 
 would conflict with the dignity or the ethics of 
 the profession. The ethics, you understand, 
 might be 
 
 "I see, I see," said Eleanor, gravely. "So Mr. 
 Huntley responded to your purely personal and 
 kind offer by " 
 
 "Purely personal not professional," persisted 
 the lawyer. 
 
 "Which no doubt a gentleman of Mr. Huntley's 
 intelligence at once recognized and appreciated. 
 And he answered " 
 
 "He expressed himself almost in your very 
 words. He thanked me and gave me to know 
 that he knew that there was nothing professional 
 in the offer, though of course I might have to do 
 a lawyer's work for him. That was his answer." 
 
 "Certainly," said Eleanor, resignedly. 
 
 Mr. Williams, after repeating twice more that 
 his offer was not professional, proceeded to state 
 that Huntley told him that he would not trouble 
 him just then, but would communicate with him 
 as soon as he received some further information 
 as to the persons informing against him and the 
 particulars of the charges preferred. 
 
 "I left him very soon," pursued the lawyer. "I 
 afterward made some inquiry of Captain Meacham,
 
 318 THE STRANGER 
 
 the officer in command, concerning the charges 
 against Huntley ; and while I was about it, I took 
 occasion to commend in strong language the gen- 
 eral character and lives of Huntley, Vaughn, and 
 Jernigan." 
 
 "To which the officer no doubt paid attention," 
 suggested Eleanor. 
 
 "He seemed to," assented the Squire, pulling 
 up his high standing collar, and nodding his head 
 several times. 
 
 "He ought to have done so," said Eleanor. "You 
 knew perfectly what you spoke of. And a gentle- 
 man of your position was to be presumed to be 
 thoroughly assured before vouching for any man." 
 
 "You express it well," cried the Squire. "That 
 was just the case. And Meacham is no fool. He 
 knows the difference between men. He fully 
 appreciated all I said. Indeed, I could see that 
 he soon began to experience some regret that 
 he had x o keep those three in jail." 
 
 "Perhaps that is why he turned them loose," 
 said Eleanor, looking innocent and earnest. 
 
 "Ah well ah I can hardly say that," re- 
 turned the Squire, disclaiming with evident reluc- 
 tance the influence ascribed to him. "But a hum 
 perhaps perhaps what I said somewhat a a 
 contributed to the result." 
 
 "You are too modest," protested the teacher, 
 who was anxious that the lawyer should claim 
 and enjoy all the credit of the release of the three 
 neighbors. "You know as we all know that, 
 speaking with the emphasis you always employ 
 in things of moment, and speaking also from your
 
 THE STRANGER 319 
 
 own intimate knowledge of facts, you must have 
 great weight." 
 
 "Ha, ha!" cried he, vastly delighted. "You 
 are a keen one. You would have made a lawyer. 
 Even an old practitioner can't escape you. 
 There's no fooling you as to what two and two 
 make." 
 
 "Well, then," said Eleanor, heartily, "you will 
 have, must have the thanks of all the people 
 hereabouts. For of course those three are guilt- 
 less of the horrible crime of Ku Kluxing, and 
 must have been the victims of some mistake." 
 
 "To be sure," said the lawyer. "But of course 
 a man mustn't blow his own trumpet." 
 
 "No. But the truth is the truth, and should 
 always be known in connection with praise-worthy 
 actions especially when one performs such actions 
 with no purpose or hope of personal gain, and when 
 the disclosure of the facts involves no professional 
 advertising of one's self." 
 
 "You have it," cried he with great satisfaction 
 "you have summed up the whole matter in a 
 few choice words." 
 
 Then they talked of other things; but Eleanor 
 knew that she had sown seed that would speedily 
 bear fruit. The Squire was sure to claim, in one 
 way or another, the credit for the releases, as he 
 thought himself entitled to do ; and his wife, 
 simple-minded as she was, and proud of her vain 
 little husband, was equally sure to spread it 
 among the women. Thus Eleanor would escape 
 all suspicion of having been concerned in the 
 affairs of the prisoners, and be clear of any em- 
 barrassment, while enjoying some advantage to
 
 320 THE STRANGER 
 
 herself, probably, and very great satisfaction, 
 certainly, from their deliverance. It appeared 
 from the lawyer's further account, that Captain 
 Meacham had gone to the military headquarters 
 of the State on Tuesday, after talking with him. 
 and on his return Wednesday night had visited 
 the jail, talked with the three prisoners, received 
 their promise to report to him or to the officer 
 in charge at Cherenden, once a week, until further 
 notified, and had then discharged them from cus- 
 tody. 
 
 On Tuesday afternoon the teacher visited Miss 
 Norton at the hotel. The aged spinster was in 
 no temper to discuss the situation the weather 
 was too "hot" for her ; Mrs. Anderson's fare had 
 been rather greasy; that "big mouthed Clarissy" 
 had been too loud and garrulous; and, worst of 
 all, she had heard Colonel Jenkins discourse, at 
 dinner, the day before, concerning his blood- 
 shedding during the war. Miss Norton described 
 him as a "great, big, long-legged fellow, with a 
 yellow face, a waxed mustache, and a voice like 
 a mill all out of gear." 
 
 "Why," cried she, "he talked about shooting 
 Yankees as a Christian man would hardly talk 
 about killing wolves or bears." 
 
 "How did you come to listen to him at all?" 
 asked Eleanor. "Where did you meet him? 
 Why did you stay to hear such talk?" 
 
 "It was at the table. He was twenty foot from 
 me, I guess ; but he roared and bawled so that 
 I couldn't help hearing him." 
 
 "But you need not mind that kind of vaporing. 
 I have heard Union soldiers declaim in pretty
 
 THE STRANGER 321 
 
 much the same fashion. You know Henry 
 McLaren, in our neighborhood, speaks sometimes 
 of his slaughter of multitudes of 'rebels.' ' 
 
 "That's so," returned Miss Norton. "But it 
 don't make one fool's talk any more bearable for 
 another fool to talk in the same way. Did you 
 ever hear that rebel Colonel?" 
 
 "I heard him perform in exactly that way, the 
 first day I spent in Cherenden," answered El- 
 eanor. "I know what you must have heard from 
 him. I suffered as you have suffered, but I be- 
 lieve that Colonel Jenkins has not made me a 
 whit more unhappy than I would have been. Be- 
 sides, you may derive some comfort from the in- 
 formation " 
 
 "What comfort in connection with that boast- 
 ful brute?" cried Miss Norton. 
 
 "He was arrested and sent to jail this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised!" 
 ejaculated the spinster.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Miss Norton now "guessed" that it was time 
 for her to go home. She said that her old bones 
 were so tired of the rough streets of Cherenden, 
 and her old head was so confused with the firing 
 of pistols, the singing of negroes, the tales of 
 bloodshed, the arrests of Ku Kluxes, and the 
 "general mixture of the hull country," that she 
 must retire to some more quiet place. She ad- 
 mitted that her visit had probably done no good 
 for herself or any one else, and that she "hadn't 
 ought to have come." But she would think over 
 matters when she got back to New England. 
 
 When Margaret entered the teacher's room at 
 five o'clock, having taken Miss Norton to the 
 station, Eleanor observed an air of restlessness 
 and hesitation altogether new in the self-pos- 
 sessed young lady of Oak Hall ; and this contin- 
 ued for some minutes, and to such a degree that 
 the teacher became distressed, and inquired if 
 she was ill or in trouble? Margaret sprang from 
 her chair, and going to the teacher bent over her, 
 taking her head with both hands. 
 
 "You are right," cried she. "I am agitated. 
 I want to say something which perhaps I ought 
 not to say, for I may embarrass you. But I 
 know all about it." 
 
 "About what?" asked Eleanor in alarm. 
 
 "Oh, the release of the three prisoners." 
 
 "Well, they were released, if you mean your 
 cousin and his two neighbors."
 
 THE STRANGER 323 
 
 "To be sure; and it was your dear, sweet self 
 that had it done." 
 
 "Nonsense !" protested Eleanor. "Have you 
 heard Squire Williams tell?" 
 
 "Indeed I have ; and poor old uncle's boasting 
 only confirmed the belief I had. Did you expect 
 to keep me in the dark? I knew of your trip to 
 the county-seat. I knew before that of your inti- 
 macy with Captain Meacham's wife ; I knew you 
 wished to do me a kindness ; I knew you could 
 present more potent arguments to the Com- 
 mandant than all the inhabitants of the county 
 together; I knew that Uncle Williams had no 
 weight at all with that officer. On the first train 
 after you went there, as appeared from uncle's 
 statement, Captain Meacham went to military 
 headquarters for the State, and immediately after 
 his return the three men were released on pa- 
 role without bond, pledge, or security of any 
 kind. The case was simple enough. Those three 
 prisoners are not of the material of which Ku 
 Kluxes are made ; one of them had befriended 
 you, in his office of school trustee, and he is a 
 cousin to me who have tried to be your friend: 
 and the other two are mv friends and neighbors." 
 "But but- 
 
 "Never mind," continued Margaret. "The 
 idea of your going, at the beginning of the week, 
 to town, to do shopping, was simplv preposter- 
 ous. There now! You have repaid me a hun- 
 dred times over a hundred times. And you are 
 the best and brightest and bravest woman I ever 
 knew." 
 
 "But," cried Eleanor, "you must not "
 
 324 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Of course I shall never say a word to any 
 one without your consent, or unless I see it neces- 
 sary in some emergency. And so I feel easy now, 
 and hope you are also." 
 
 And being sensible women, the two friends 
 dropped the subject, dried their eyes, and dis- 
 cussed a new style of dress-skirt. 
 
 They were soon interrupted by Nancy, who 
 announced that Mr. Huntley was below stairs, 
 and desired to speak with the two ladies. They 
 went down at once, and found him sitting on the 
 piazza., talking with Mrs. Williams. He made 
 known at once his object, saying: 
 
 "Miss Field, it is feared that we have scarlet 
 fever in Cherenden. Minnie Haxwell shows 
 symptoms of the disease and Laura Cogburn 
 (whom you sent home because she seemed ill) 
 appears to be affected in about the same way. 
 Dr. Flagman thinks it is scarlet fever. Dr. 
 Thompson is in doubt. If the fever is here we 
 shall think it our duty to close the school, to 
 prevent its spread in the community. I imagine 
 that prompt action will enable the physicians and 
 village authorities to confine the disease, if it is 
 here, so that, in two or three weeks, we shall be 
 clear of it. I give you this information in order 
 that you may not be surprised." 
 
 "And what shall I do?" inquired the teacher. 
 
 "Nothing," answered he, "except conform to 
 such directions as the trustees will give you, and 
 keep clear of the infection." 
 
 "So," interrupted Margaret, "Eleanor is only 
 to be prepared, and to await orders." 
 
 "Exactly," returned Huntley.
 
 THE STRANGER 325 
 
 "It won't be long, do you think, before the dis- 
 ease will be under control? And the teacher can 
 just take rest, in case of suspension of the 
 school." 
 
 "Yes," answered Huntley, smiling. "Miss 
 Field, I hope, will suffer no enforced vacation. 
 But if she does, she must make the best of it 
 that is, take care of herself and wait patiently till 
 she is told to resume work." 
 
 "Her salary will not be affected?" asked Mar- 
 garet. 
 
 "By no means. A pestilence is the act of God 
 though much promoted and prolonged by the folly 
 of man. She must not allow herself to be worried." 
 
 Eleanor said nothing. Huntley soon went 
 away, and Margaret with him. 
 
 On the following morning, having heard 
 nothing further, Eleanor went to the academy. 
 There were fifteen or sixteen children at the 
 school when she arrived. She asked these about 
 Laura Cogburn, but none of them had heard any- 
 thing of her. Young Tomlinson, the Colonel's 
 grandson, her latest new pupil, suggested that his 
 grandfather might be able to tell something of the 
 sick child, when he returned that way home, and 
 offered to keep a look-out for the old gentleman. 
 He added that his grandfather had ridden to the 
 village with him, nearly an hour before, to an- 
 swer, as he understood, a summons from Mr. 
 Huntley to meet him at Mr. Cogburn's store. 
 This intelligence gave the teacher some comfort; 
 for it indicated that Huntley had called the trus- 
 tees together, and that she would soon receive 
 from them a definite order, either to suspend the
 
 326 THE STRANGER 
 
 school or to continue teaching. Her knowledge 
 of Huntley assured her that he would not leave 
 the matter in doubt. She, of course, did not re- 
 fer to what she had heard at Squire Williams's the 
 day before, nor disclose any uneasiness. 
 
 Receiving no communication, she opened the 
 school when the academy clock struck nine. Two 
 of the Cogburn children arrived just at the be- 
 ginning of the exercises. She asked them about 
 their sick sister, but they (with a toss of the head 
 which implied that they were not expected to re- 
 port anything to her) told her she was pretty well. 
 
 A little before ten o'clock, and after she had 
 heard a primary class recite mathematics, she 
 heard the sound of a horse's hoofs near the front 
 door of the building. A minute later, William 
 Huntley entered, his long-roweled spurs jingling 
 as he walked. Doffing his broad-brimmed felt hat, 
 and removing the gauntlet from his right hand, he 
 advanced toward her at his usual rapid stride. 
 When he arrived within a few feet of the platform 
 where she sat he halted and, bowing, said : 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Field. Pardon my in- 
 terruption of your work, but I come to announce 
 to you, and your pupils, and through them to the 
 patrons of the school, a decision just reached by 
 the board of trustees." 
 
 Every boy and girl had watched his progress up 
 the aisle in silent astonishment. Now every one 
 of them seemed to have found a tongue for whis- 
 pering. Huntley turned at once toward them, 
 and awed them into silence with a look. He pro- 
 ceeded: 
 
 "On hearing it rumored that Laura Cogburn,
 
 THE STRANGER 327 
 
 a pupil in this school, was ill with scarlet fever, the 
 trustees met together this morning, in order to in- 
 vestigate the report, and if it should prove correct, 
 determine what ought to be done in the school. 
 Attend now, all of you children, to what I am 
 about to say, for we are not willing that any false 
 report of our opinions or of our decision shall be 
 circulated in the community. Dr. Thompson, the 
 physician attending Laura, has not made up his 
 mind as to her disease." He now spoke very 
 slowly and distinctly. "He says that it has sev- 
 eral of the symptoms of scarlet fever. But he 
 thinks it quite possible that it is what is often 
 known as 'black measles,' or that it may be only 
 a case of severe cold, with fever, and that the 
 flushed face may be entirely the result of the 
 fever, and the throat trouble the result of the 
 cold that is, ordinary sore throat. If it is an 
 attack of fever, it may be only scarlatina a very 
 mild form of the disease. However, the trustees, 
 after hearing Dr. Thompson speak, and after con- 
 sidering the situation, have decided that it is ad- 
 visable to suspend the exercises of the school 
 during this week, and until further notice. There- 
 fore, the pupils are not to come here again this 
 week. Notice will be given whether the exer- 
 cises are to be resumed next week, or not; and 
 every parent, guardian, or other person having 
 charge of pupils will be informed, before next 
 Monday, whether the school will be operated next 
 week. Now bear in mind what I have said to 
 you. You are not to give people your notions 
 about the matter as the decision of the trustees. 
 We only want to be prudent. We doubt if there
 
 328 THE STRANGER 
 
 is any danger. But we wish to make you as safe 
 as possible against a dangerous disease. We want 
 you to stay at home. There is no use in turning 
 you loose from school, if you go running over 
 the village. There is no need for a panic. Go 
 straight home, every one of you, and tell, as well 
 as you can, what I have said to you. You will 
 also tell it at home, that your teacher, Miss Field, 
 knew nothing of Laura Cogburn's having scarlet 
 fever till long after she sent her home on Friday; 
 and I tell you, tell your parents also, that as soon 
 as Laura Cogburn complained of being unwell, 
 on Friday, Miss Field sent her home. Will you 
 do all I bid you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," "yes, sir," cried the children all over 
 the room. 
 
 "Very well," said Huntley. "Now Miss Field 
 will add what she sees fit. And you are not to 
 leave the school-room till she tells you to go." 
 
 And then, as if determined to see the authority 
 of the teacher recognized, he seated himself in a 
 chair near hers, whence he commanded a view of 
 all the scholars. 
 
 Eleanor repeated part of what he had spoken, 
 and then declared the school closed till further 
 notice. Then the children gathered up their be- 
 longings, and went away slowly and quietly. But 
 not one came to her to say good-by, except the 
 Tomlinson boy. He approached with out- 
 stretched hand, and said, heartily: 
 
 "Good-by, Miss Field. I hope we'll all be here 
 next Monday." 
 
 "Good-by, Charley," returned she, pressing his 
 hand. "I'm sure you will, if you can."
 
 THE STRANGER 329 
 
 The boy saw the moisture in her eyes, and re- 
 sponded in kind, saying, "You can depend on 
 that! I'll be glad to come back to you!" 
 
 "Well, Charley," said Huntley, rising and meet- 
 ing the lad who now approached him. "You are 
 so grown that I did not recognize you at first. 
 When did you enter?" 
 
 "On Friday, Mr. Huntley. How are you?" 
 
 "You've had a short course. However, you'll 
 all be here pretty soon. You like it here, I know 
 from the way you speak." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the boy. "I think I'll get 
 along all right. Good-by, sir." 
 
 When this last pupil had passed out, Huntley 
 said a few words about the uncertainty of the dis- 
 ease of the child, and started to his horse. At the 
 door, however, he paused, and said, with some 
 embarrassment, "You recollect that this enforced 
 vacation, whether long or short, has nothing to 
 do with your salary, Miss Field. You are em- 
 ployed for the term." 
 
 Then he mounted and galloped away. 
 
 So here was another blow. The turn in her 
 favor during the past week had led her to expect 
 decided accessions to the school and improved 
 behavior on the part of the pupils; and she had 
 consequently acquired a new interest in her work. 
 This unforeseen check, though of course in no 
 wise attributable to any fault of hers, would op- 
 erate, she feared, to chill any enthusiasm concern- 
 ing the school and any rising opinion in her favor. 
 Her salary would go on; but she was not teach- 
 ing for the small salary alone. A larger school, a 
 larger sphere, a more agreeable employment were
 
 330 THE STRANGER 
 
 what she had begun to promise herself. Now she 
 might have to go back and build anew ; she might, 
 in case the disease became a plague, be compelled 
 to go away, for of course she could not count 
 upon being paid for many weeks of vacation.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 On Tuesday morning Dr. Thompson pro- 
 nounced Laura Cogburn's disease to be scarlet 
 fever of a malignant type. This intelligence so 
 excited and alarmed the inhabitants of Cheren- 
 den that before nine o'clock it was spread even 
 so far as the secluded and remote residence of 
 Squire Williams. Mr. Williams first learned it 
 from a negro going out into the country to his 
 work, and about noon a white lady passing along 
 the street informed Mrs. Williams that a second 
 case had appeared in the household of Alfred 
 Joiner, a tinner living at some distance from Mr. 
 Cogburn. It was some comfort to Eleanor that 
 this child was not one of her pupils, and there- 
 fore could not have contracted the sickness at 
 school. 
 
 At dusk, Margaret Mason, coming from the 
 village, insisted on taking the teacher home with 
 her to spend the rest of the week. Eleanor, al- 
 though it cost her no little self-denial, declined to 
 go, giving as her reason her conviction that she 
 ought to be near any of the sick pupils, so as to be 
 kept advised of their condition, and, in case of a 
 critical turn among any of them, to be at hand 
 to assist in nursing them. Margaret suggested 
 that she was not called upon to render any such 
 service in any circumstances, and also suggested 
 tnat she would be unwise to expose herself to the 
 contagion ; but the teacher stood firm, and had to 
 be left where she was.
 
 332 THE STRANGER 
 
 On Wednesday morning little Minnie Haxwell 
 was reported quite ill with the fever, and in the 
 afternoon Eleanor heard that she was worse; and 
 toward sunset Dr. Thompson, in answer to Mrs. 
 Williams's call to him as he rode past, stated that 
 the case had become serious. Eleanor, who heard 
 him, inquired whether any one was assisting Mrs. 
 Haxwell in nursing the child. On learning that 
 no one was expected there that night except an 
 old lady, she at once put into a small bag such 
 things as she thought might be needed for her- 
 self or for the child during the night, and pro- 
 ceeded to Widow Maxwell's. Mrs. Williams at- 
 tempted to dissuade her, reminding her, when 
 other arguments failed, of the unpleasant rela- 
 tions existing between the child's mother and her- 
 self. 
 
 "I have not forgotten," replied Eleanor. "I 
 fear I never shall entirely forget the treatment 
 I received from her. And Minnie is not now my 
 pupil. But that makes no difference in a matter 
 of plain duty." 
 
 "But she may insult you," urged the Squire's 
 gentle, timid wife. "She may go so far as to 
 order you out of her house; for although not a 
 vicious woman, she is a grossly ignorant and 
 rough one." 
 
 "If I am not allowed to stay," said Eleanor, "I 
 shall come home no worse off than I am now 
 indeed, happier than I now am, for I shall then 
 enjoy the satisfaction of feeling that I have at- 
 tempted to assist the child and relieve her mother. 
 But she will hardly carry her resentment to that 
 length."
 
 THE STRANGER 333 
 
 So she walked to the house of sickness, more 
 than half a mile distant, carrying her bag, and 
 preparing herself for all possible contingencies. 
 The few inhabitants watched her with curiosity as 
 she stepped rapidly along the streets ; and she 
 heard one rough-looking man wonder where 
 "that Yankee school-teacher" was going so fast 
 at that time of day. 
 
 She called at one drug store of the village and 
 inquired what the closing hour was, and where a 
 prescription clerk could be found after closing. 
 The proprietor answered politely, but took the 
 liberty of asking if there was likely to be a call for 
 medicine at any late hour of the night, and if so, 
 on whose account. She informed him that she 
 was going to Mrs. Haxwell's to attend Minnie, 
 and that there might be need to have other medi- 
 cine than was now at that home. 
 
 "Well, Miss," said the man heartily, "it's very 
 good of you to do that. Nearly everybody's 
 afraid to go there now. I'll be here till eleven 
 o'clock. After that you'll find Mr. Lever, the 
 clerk, in the room up-stairs. You'll iust ring this 
 bell," showing her a bell at the side of the door. 
 
 The Haxwell cottage looked dark and lonely 
 amid the large oaks that reached far above it and 
 spread their long arms all around it. There was 
 no light visible from the street, but on reaching 
 the open front door she perceived a dull glimmer 
 in the hall, coming from a back chamber. She 
 entered without knocking, and made her way to 
 the room from which the light proceeded. Paus- 
 ing at the door of the room, she saw a dim lamp 
 sitting on the mantel, with no shade upon it ex-
 
 334 THE STRANGER 
 
 cept what was furnished by the smoke which 
 stood thick and dark upon the cracked chimney. 
 Entering the door she saw on her right, in the 
 corner, a plain, high, narrow bedstead; and on 
 the bed, half covered with a sheet, lay a small fig- 
 ure. At the side of the bed, with her face turned 
 toward the bed, sat a short, thin, stooped woman, 
 dressed in black. The air felt hot and close, and 
 reeked with the odor of burning oil. As she ap- 
 proached the bed the little figure moved and at- 
 tempted to rise, and a faint, weak voice murmured, 
 "Oh, Miss Eleanor!" half in welcome, half in wail. 
 
 "Keep still, dear," said the teacher gently, and 
 going to her, laid her hand softly on the hot, dry 
 brow of the child. "I shall be with you for some 
 time all night, or longer and we shall have 
 time enough to talk when you get better." 
 
 The child lifted a thin, trembling hand and 
 touched the cool fingers of her visitor, but spoke 
 no more. Eleanor turned to the aged woman 
 who sat regarding her. 
 
 "You are Mrs. Harris, I presume?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," replied the woman in a low, 
 thin voice. "And you are " 
 
 "Eleanor Field, the teacher. Let me say a few 
 words to you where they will not worry the 
 child." 
 
 Minnie smiled faintly, and closed her eyes, 
 when the two walked across the room. 
 
 "I have not yet seen Mrs. Haxwell," said 
 Eleanor to Mrs. Harris. "She may be a little 
 startled to see me unless she knows of my being 
 here. Would you mind going to her and telling
 
 THE STRANGER 335 
 
 her that I have come to sit with Minnie and at- 
 tend to her to-night?" 
 
 Mrs. Harris looked surprised, and hesitated a 
 moment; then she signified her readiness to do as 
 requested, and went out of the room. A few sec- 
 onds later Eleanor heard an exclamation of as- 
 tonishment and inquiry, in the yard back of the 
 cottage, in the familiar harsh voice of Mrs. Hax- 
 well ; but she caught none of the words, and did 
 not hear the voice again. Mrs. Harris returned 
 pretty soon, and reported that she had delivered 
 the teacher's message. But she said nothing 
 more, and resumed her chair at the bedside, after 
 casting a look at Eleanor indicating doubt and 
 uneasiness. The teacher said nothing, but busied 
 herself in straightening the room as far as she 
 could do so without noise. Then she sat by a 
 window and waited. 
 
 Half an hour passed. It was now quite dark. 
 Still Mrs. Haxwell did not come. Eleanor turned 
 her face to the window near her and looked out 
 into the night. Once the child stirred and called 
 for water; and Mrs. Harris went out to the back 
 piazza to get fresh water. Eleanor heard her ex- 
 change a few words with some one there no 
 doubt, Mrs. Haxwell. After a little, the creaking 
 of the well-chain was heard, and a little later Mrs. 
 Harris brought in a glass of which the child 
 tasted, and became silent. 
 
 It was clear to the teacher that the mother was 
 not yet willing to make friends with her, yet hesi- 
 tated to refuse her assistance. 
 
 At the end of the half hour Dr. Thompson 
 came. He examined Minnie, and asked her two
 
 336 THE STRANGER 
 
 or three questions. Then he turned toward the 
 teacher, as if to give her some directions. She 
 requested him to communicate his wishes to Mrs. 
 Harris, to whom, in consequence, they were de- 
 livered in Eleanor's hearing. When he appeared 
 to have concluded, Eleanor requested him to go 
 with her to the front veranda. There she said to 
 him: 
 
 "Dr. Thompson, I have come here without re- 
 quest. I learned from you that the child was 
 very ill, and that no one besides her mother was 
 nursing her, except Mrs. Harris. I sent word, 
 as soon as I came, about an hour ago, to Mrs. 
 Haxwell of my being here. I have not yet seen 
 her, nor received any response to my message." 
 
 "That is very remarkable." 
 
 "You remember," continued Eleanor, "that I 
 quit boarding with Mrs. Haxwell to go to Mr. 
 Williams's. Mrs. Haxwell spoke very rudely to 
 me when I went away, and took Minnie from 
 school. I have not seen her nor spoken with her 
 since. I think that she does not care to order 
 me away, yet is unwilling to meet me pleasantly. 
 Perhaps she imagines that I expect an apology 
 from her, but of course I do not. I have come 
 here to do what I can for the child, who seemed 
 fond of me, and to whom I am attached. I would 
 rather have no mention made, now or hereafter, 
 of our past differences. All I ask is to be allowed 
 to nurse the child." 
 
 "The woman's a rough, stupid creature, and 
 disgraces herself by her sullenness," returned the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "Well," said Eleanor, "would you. mind telling
 
 THE STRANGER 337 
 
 her now that she need do nothing- more than 
 barely speak to me concerning- the child. I am 
 quite as anxious as she that there shall never be 
 any reference to the past." 
 
 "All rig-ht," said the Doctor. "I'll see her right 
 away." After a little while, he returned, accom- 
 panied by Mrs. Haxwell. The woman looked 
 tired, distressed, and sullen, and paused when 
 near the center of the room, as if uncertain 
 whether to advance or retire. Eleanor rose and 
 walked to her, extending her hand, and sayine: 
 
 "I hope, Mrs. Haxwell, that Mrs. Harris and T 
 will be able to take care of Minnie to-night. Dr. 
 Thompson will no doubt give us further direc- 
 tions before he g-oes, so that we may be sure to 
 do what is right." 
 
 "Have you ever been with a case of scarlet 
 fever?" asked the mother, after giving the prof- 
 fered hand a jerk that made it ache. 
 
 "Yes; I helped to nurse two children at a 
 neighbor's house two years ago." 
 
 "Was they bad?" 
 
 "One of them was never seriously sick : but the 
 other was said to be one of the worst cases ever 
 seen there. I sat up three nights in succession 
 with that one a little girl between seven and 
 eight years of age." 
 
 "And Minnie's iist seven last month," said the 
 mother, with a gulp of the throat. 
 
 Here the Doctor interposed, saying that he 
 would take Miss Field out on the front piazza, 
 and give her some instructions. Thither they two 
 went, and after explaining the nature of the dis- 
 
 22
 
 338 THE STRANGER 
 
 ease, he suggested to her to talk as little as pos- 
 sible, at present, with the unreasonable mother. 
 
 "I understand," returned Eleanor, calmly. "I 
 came prepared for a great deal that is unpleas- 
 ant." 
 
 "The woman's a fool, in plain English," said he. 
 "She rails at me, more or less, every time I come, 
 though she knows that my work here is, as it al- 
 ways was, pure charity. Anxious and helpless as 
 she is, she snubs and browbeats old Mrs. Harris, 
 and would drive any other woman out of the 
 house. Her villainous beastliness is nearly half 
 that ails the child. She didn't want to see vou, 
 just now, and it made me so angry that I told her 
 she was one of the meanest and silliest people I 
 ever saw. But you're not a bit afraid of her ; and 
 I rather expect you to be able to freeze her, if 
 you can't do any better." 
 
 With this comforting view of the situation, they 
 returned to the sick-room. Mrs. Haxwell gave 
 them a grudging invitation to join her at supper. 
 Eleanor, having no inclination to risk the kind of 
 food that had damaged her health so seriously, 
 declined, and said that she would stay with Minnie 
 while the others supped, and that Mrs. Harris 
 would bring her a biscuit to eat after a while 
 there being no need for her to eat so soon after her 
 late dinner. 
 
 When they were gone the child called to her. 
 
 "Why, Minnie," said the teacher, "I hoped you 
 were asleep. What can I do for you?" 
 
 "Only come here and let me hold your hand a 
 little," sobbed Minnie. 
 
 "Don't cry," said Eleanor, taking the chair at
 
 THE STRANGER 339 
 
 the bedside and lifting the small, thin hand that 
 lay next to her. "You must not worry over any- 
 thing-. That will make you worse. If you keep 
 quiet I hope you will soon be well.'* 
 
 "I am not worrying," murmured Minnie. "I 
 only want to tell you how glad T am to have you 
 here. I think I feel better already. I was so 
 sorry ma wouldn't let me keep on at school. I've 
 begged her nearly every day since she took me 
 away." 
 
 "Don't talk that's a good child," said Eleanor, 
 gently. 
 
 "Just a little more, please. She knew how I 
 loved you, and and I think she didn't like it." 
 
 "Minnie, you must not talk. You are crying 
 now. I shall have to go away if you won't do as 
 I bid you." 
 
 "Then I will die," moaned Minnie. "But I'm 
 crying now because I'm so happy to see you and 
 hear your voice. I'll try to mind you, and to get 
 well, if you wish it. But I think I wouldn't be 
 much afraid to die, if you were with me and hold- 
 ing my hand." 
 
 "Minnie, won't vou say a prayer with me, and 
 then try to sleep?" 
 
 "It's early in the night, isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes ; but some sleep will help you ; and pray- 
 ing is always in good season." 
 
 "Have you a new prayer for me ?" 
 
 "Not now. When you get stronger perhaps 
 I can teach you one. Suppose we say the old one, 
 'Now I lay me down.' ' 
 
 "Will you say it with me? It seems like God
 
 340 THE STRANGER 
 
 might be more willing to hear me if you were say- 
 ing the same words at the same time." 
 
 "Very well. I will repeat it with you." 
 
 Then she accompanied the child in saying the 
 old, old verses ; and after a while the child slept. 
 
 Pretty soon Mrs. Harris, the Doctor, and Mrs. 
 Haxwell returned from supper. 
 
 As soon as they entered the room the Doctor 
 said, "Now, Mrs. Haxwell, I think you may safely 
 go to bed as soon as you have put your house- 
 hold matters in shape. These two ladies will be 
 able to take care of Minnie." 
 
 The child awoke at the sound of her name, and 
 muttered indistinctly some question. 
 
 "You keep quiet, Minnie," said Dr. Thompson. 
 "Mrs. Harris and Miss Field will be with you, to 
 see after all your wants." 
 
 The mother bustled up to the bed, and asked 
 what she wanted. She received for answer only 
 the words, "Oh, nothing." 
 
 "But couldn't you like somethin' to eat?" 
 queried Mrs. Haxwell. 
 
 "Let her alone," said the Doctor, shortly. 
 
 By this time the mother, obtuse as she was, 
 realized that she was not doing quite the proper 
 thing, and left the bedside, and came to where 
 the other three were standing near the fireplace. 
 
 "Well," said she to Eleanor, "I reck'n you kin 
 make yerself at home. Yer've been here before." 
 
 "I shall do my best to take care of Minnie dur- 
 ing the night," replied the teacher calmly. 
 
 "Yes," interposed the physician briskly, "Miss 
 Field and Mrs, Harris will attend to everything.
 
 THE STRANGER 341 
 
 Go to bed, Mrs. Haxwell. They'll call you when 
 you're needed. I'll be back about midnight." 
 
 "Well," returned the widow, "it's a comfort to 
 see somebody interestin' theirselves 'bout poor 
 folk's children. Good night to you all." And 
 then she walked out of the room. 
 
 The Doctor soon took leave, and Eleanor Field 
 was left with faded Mrs. Harris and the silent 
 child. 
 
 The teacher seated herself at a window. Very 
 soon Mrs. Harris drew a chair near her, and sat 
 down, with a look of expectation on her face. 
 Ordinarily Eleanor would have addressed the 
 woman at once, but now she was so enfeebled by 
 the heat and the odors of the room, and so weary 
 of Mrs. Haxwell's persistent coarseness, that she 
 said nothing, though Mrs. Harris cleared her 
 throat several times by way of invitation to 
 speech. 
 
 Finally the latter observed, in a weak, shrill 
 whisper that it was "a mighty hot night." El- 
 eanor assented. 
 
 "And it seems to me," pursued Mrs. Harris, 
 "that there's bad smells about here." 
 
 "The lamp was unpleasant," returned Eleanor, 
 not looking at her; "but I cleaned that, and I 
 hope it will be better now." 
 
 "But seems like I smell cabbage," urged Mrs. 
 Harris. 
 
 "That comes from the garden, no doubt," sug- 
 gested Eleanor. 
 
 "'Tain't that," insisted Mrs. Harris. "It 
 comes from nigher than the gyardin. My gyardin
 
 342 THE STRANGER 
 
 ain't more'n forty foot from my back door; yit 
 1 don't have sich a smell as this in my house." 
 
 "How else can it be?" 
 
 "it's sorter like old cabbage," pursued the old 
 woman. "I wonder if Miss Haxwell have brung 
 cabbage into here. I'll see." 
 
 She went around the room, sniffing and mutter- 
 ing to herself, liven the child's bed did not es- 
 cape investigation, though the searcher walked 
 carefully and touched nothing. Pretty soon the 
 teacher heard her murmur, as she laid hold on a 
 basket in a corner of the room, "I b'lieve on my 
 soul it's here!" 
 
 But after tumbling over some paper and other 
 scraps, she confessed that the offensive vegetable 
 was not there. Presently she snurfed the air of 
 the hall several times, and after a pause of five or 
 six seconds went out through the open door. In 
 less than a minute she returned, bringing a basket 
 in her hand, and saying, in a low tone, but one of 
 triumph, "I've got it! I knowed there was cab- 
 bage somewheres!" 
 
 She was correct. There were five or six heads 
 of cabbage in the basket stale, rank cabbage 
 whose odor was almost stifling. 
 
 "Who could have put them there?" asked the 
 teacher. 
 
 "Mrs. Haxwell, of course," responded Mrs. 
 Harris. "I remember it all now. Yisterday, me 
 and her went into the gyardin to git vegetables. 
 We got inguns, an' beans, an' peas, an' beets, an' 
 cabbage. An' atter Miss Haxwell cut three head 
 o' cabbage and was a-ketchin' holt of a fo'th 
 head, I says to her, 'Nancy Haxwell,' says I,
 
 THE STRANGER 343 
 
 'you've a'ready got three good heads. What do 
 you want with mo'?' They was all as big as my 
 head. Says she, 'I'm a-gittin' of cabbage. You 
 never mind.' Now I thought she har'ly knowed 
 what she was a-doin' of, bein' as Minnie was so 
 sick, an' her mother seemed sorter 'stracted any- 
 how. So I 'lowed there wasn't no use to git any 
 mo', as them three heads was mo'n enough to last 
 yisterday and to-day. But she 'lowed that there 
 wasn't no use of draggling up her clo'es a-comin' 
 into the gyardin every mornin', in the jew, to cut 
 cabbage; and then she cut five or six mo' heads 
 and brung 'em into the house. An' here they is! 
 And what are we a-gwine to do with 'em?" 
 
 Eleanor Field remembered that Mrs. Maxwell's 
 next neighbor had a lot next her garden, where 
 pigs and cows were kept, and where she had lately 
 heard the grunting of hogs. So she took the 
 basket from Mrs. Harris, stole softly out of the 
 back-door, walked to the fence, and threw the 
 decaying vegetables to the animals who could 
 make use of them. 
 
 On her return she was warmly complimented 
 by Mrs. Harris; and a liberal sprinkling of the 
 room with spirits of camphor sufficed, after a time, 
 to restore the atmosphere to purity. 
 
 Mrs. Harris was prompted by Eleanor's intelli- 
 gence and decision in the matter of the cabbages 
 to make a closer acquaintance with her. She drew 
 her chair nearer, and proceeded to interrogate 
 her in a low voice. 
 
 "They tell me you come from the Nawth. 
 What part did you come from?" 
 
 "From New England."
 
 344 THE STRANGER 
 
 "How fur is that?" 
 
 "Not far from a thousand miles from here." 
 
 "Sakes o' mercy! And did you come all the 
 way by yourself?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And wasn't you afeard?" 
 
 "Not much." 
 
 "Is New England in the United States?" 
 
 "Yes. That's the name we give to the six 
 States in the northeastern corner of the Union." 
 
 "You don't say so! You got one name for six 
 States ! What States mought they be ?" 
 
 "Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachu- 
 setts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut." 
 
 "That's sorter like the Southern States, I 
 s'pose. But I can't rightly tell how many of them 
 they is. Mebby you could tell me." 
 
 "They are not quite as accurately fixed as the 
 New England or the Middle States," said El- 
 eanor; "but they are generally considered to be 
 thirteen in number. Some persons make a four- 
 teenth by including Kentucky, and some fifteen, 
 by including Missouri." 
 
 "Was they all in the Confed'rit States?" 
 
 "No. Most of them were," answered Eleanor, 
 "but it is hard to draw the line positively." 
 
 "Well, mebby you wouldn't mind tellin' of me 
 which was." 
 
 "Well, Maryland is one of them. It was not 
 in the Southern Confederacy. Virginia is one. 
 It was in the Confederacy. West Virginia was 
 formed during the war and I should say it was not 
 in the Confederacy. North Carolina, South Caro- 
 lina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi,
 
 THE STRANGER 345 
 
 Louisiana, Texas, and Arkansas were Confeder- 
 ate States. Kentucky was not, I think, nor was 
 Missouri. I am not sure about Tennessee." 
 
 "You've studied a heap o' g'ography, hain't 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh, not so very much." 
 
 "1 went to school three or four years when I 
 was a gal; but 1 never had a good remembrance, 
 an' i couldn't recollect what i larnt. i 'member 
 somethin' 'bout Ameriky and Kurope and Azhy 
 an' Afriky that's where the niggers come fum; 
 but it's all mighty onsartin to me now. But we 
 was in the Confed'rit States?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And thar was the battle of Gettysburg. My 
 brother Robert was kilt thar. That wa'n't in our 
 States, was it?" 
 
 "That was in Pennsylvania." 
 
 "To be sure. I recollect now as I hyeerd 'em 
 say it was in Pennsylvany. That's mighty fur 
 away, ain't it? Me and sister jane has often 
 talked of sendin' fer brother Robert's body; but 
 they all told us it was too fur to bring him back 
 home." 
 
 There were tears in the old woman's pale eyes, 
 and her hands were clasped together. 
 
 "I tried to git somebody to go for him atter 
 the war was over. And Mr. William Huntley give 
 me ten dollars to pay the expenses. And Colonel 
 Tomlinson give me five dollars. And Miss Marg'- 
 ret Mason give me ten dollars. But John Green 
 what 1 sont thar never could find his grave." 
 
 "Then you did send for his body?" 
 
 "It was this a-way. John Green was a-goin'
 
 346 THE STRANGER 
 
 thar to look for his brother and two or three more 
 what was killed in the battle. An' 'scriptions was 
 got up to pay for him traveling and other things to 
 git 'em home agin. He never brung back one of 
 'em." 
 
 "What a pity! But I suppose it was hard to 
 find the graves." 
 
 "Mr. Huntley told me it wa'n't no use. He said, 
 says he an' 1 remember his very words, 'Your 
 brother will sleep as well at Gettysburg as in 
 Cherenden. You'd better use your little money 
 for the livin', which it can do 'em some good; and 
 not for the dead which it can't help.' Them was 
 his words." 
 
 "And you know now that it would have been 
 better to take his advice," said Eleanor. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," returned Mrs. Harris. "But 
 somehow I couldn't do it. Robert was the baby 
 in the fam'ly Robert Burroughs was his full 
 name. He was nigh onto twenty year younger'n 
 me. I was jist fifty-five years old a few days be- 
 fore the battle; an' he was only thirty-six goin' 
 on thirty-seven. And I couldn't somehow rest 
 satisfied with him killed and buried so far away 
 from home. So I sont John Green for him; but 
 the money was throwed away, as it turned out." 
 
 Eleanor did not answer and the two sat in 
 silence for what seemed a long time. 
 
 About ten o'clock, when the multitude of the 
 neighbors' dogs had ceased the barking, howling, 
 and fighting which had made the earlier hours 
 of the night painful, and when the vagrant negro 
 had sung his last doleful strain and left the streets, 
 Mrs. Harris signified her readiness to resume the
 
 THE STRANGER 347 
 
 family history which had been interrupted. But 
 the teacher suggested that the aged watcher 
 needed rest, and that she had better lie down on 
 the sofa standing against the inner wall of the 
 room, across the room from the patient's bed. 
 After a feeble protest, and on Eleanor's assurance 
 that she would rouse her in case of need, and cer- 
 tainly on the Doctor's arrival, she acceded, and, 
 allowing herself to be covered with a quilt taken 
 from a closet in the room, stretched herself on the 
 narrow couch, and was soon asleep. 
 
 Then the teacher sat by the lamp and read a 
 book she had brought with her. And so the night 
 went on Mrs. Harris sleeping quietly on the 
 sofa, Minnie resting on her bed, and the teacher 
 reading, and at intervals visiting the child till 
 midnight. Then Dr. Thompson drove to the 
 gate, and without knocking came into the room. 
 
 "All goes well, I assume from your reading so 
 composedly," said he in a low voice. 
 
 "I think so," returned Eleanor. 
 
 He walked to the bed, took his seat in a chair 
 there, and remained silent for several minutes. 
 The child awoke, and muttered some words, but 
 went to sleep again after he spoke gently to her. 
 When he left her he stood with his arm resting on 
 the mantelpiece, as if debating some serious ques- 
 tion. Eleanor divined that the patient's symp- 
 toms were unfavorable, and therefore asked if 
 there was anything to be done. 
 
 He picked up his hat and started out, saying, 
 "I must go to the drug-store." 
 
 Eleanor offered to go in his place, insisting that 
 he was fatigued, and that she was not afraid.
 
 348 THE STRANGER 
 
 "You need not be afraid of anything except 
 that infernal cur dog of Cogburn's between here 
 and there. He'll jump the fence and tear your 
 clothing. He bit at my horse as I drove here, and 
 it took a pretty sharp cut of my whip to drive him 
 away." 
 
 She had to admit that she did not care to en- 
 counter such a brute, and he went out at once and 
 drove down the street. She heard furious bark- 
 ing about the time the sound of his horse and 
 vehicle became indistinct, two blocks away. 
 
 About fifteen minutes later the same barking 
 was renewed; and very soon she heard the report 
 of a pistol and a great howling from a dog. Di- 
 rectly she heard the horse's feet and the rattle of 
 the Doctor's loose wheels, and in two or three 
 minutes he was again in the room. 
 
 "Where was that pistol fired?" asked she. 
 
 "I fired it," returned he coolly, taking up a wine- 
 glass and a spoon. 
 
 "Were you attacked?" 
 
 "Y-es," answered he, dropping a fluid from a 
 phial in his hand. 
 
 "Dear me!" cried she. "How was it?" 
 
 "Well," said he, never moving his eyes from the 
 medicine, but continuing to pour it out drop by 
 drop with a perfectly steady hand, "that ah 
 that beast of a dog that I ten, eleven told you 
 about. Ah fourteen Cogburn's brute. I had 
 to er er fifteen to kill him." 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 "Well, you see," said the Doctor, pausing while 
 he poured water into the glass, and looking at her 
 over his spectacles, "he came at me again and I
 
 THE STRANGER 349 
 
 cut at him with my whip, but missed him. He 
 followed me fifty or sixty yards, jumping and 
 snapping at my horse, and two or three times at 
 me. When I came back " Here he paused to com- 
 plete the pouring of the water, and to stir the mix- 
 ture gently with a spoon. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well," resumed he, after holding the glass 
 between his eyes and the lamp, and regarding it 
 attentively "Well, he got after me again, as I 
 expected he would." 
 
 "It is unfortunate," suggested the teacher, "to 
 be obliged to shoot dogs on the streets." 
 
 "Oh, well," returned the Doctor coolly, "men 
 are shot so often now that we need not trouble 
 ourselves about a vicious dog." 
 
 "But the firing of pistols on the streets, at this 
 hour of the night?" 
 
 "Everybody is used to that. I find mvself 
 wondering what is the matter when I don't hear 
 a pistol shot every hour or so." 
 
 "It indicates a fearful state of unrest, and of 
 disorder," said Eleanor. 
 
 "To be sure," said the Doctor, handing her the 
 glass. "Now give that to Minnie, if you can." 
 
 The effort was made ; but the child did not re- 
 spond. 
 
 "Pretty bad," muttered the old man. "Looks 
 like collapse." 
 
 "Shall I call Mrs. Haxwell?" 
 
 "By no means," answered he positively. "That 
 fool woman would make things ten times worse. 
 We'll try stimulation. I've got what I want to 
 use," And then be proceeded to draw bottles,
 
 350 THE STRANGER 
 
 paper, cloth, surgical instruments and other 
 things out of his great saddle-bags. 
 
 "Shall I rouse Mrs. Harris?" asked Eleanor. 
 
 "No; she hasn't much more sense than Nancy 
 Haxwell." 
 
 He quickly handed her mustard and a cloth, 
 bidding her prepare a poultice for each wrist and 
 ankle, and one for the back of the neck, while he 
 arranged to administer a hypodermic injection of 
 brandy, talking all the time. These applications 
 seemed to produce no effect for a time, and the 
 teacher protested that the patient's mother ought 
 to be called, suggesting the distressing conse- 
 quences of the child dying in her absence. 
 
 "The devil!" cried the Doctor, clear out of 
 temper. "I know what I'm about. Death is a 
 familiar acquaintance of mine a familiar foe ; 
 and I know that if I get myself hampered by those 
 two stupid women, he'll beat me. I know some- 
 thing of your brain and nerve, and therefore 
 trust you. Be patient. The child will show bet- 
 ter pretty soon, I hope. Her system hasn't had 
 time to respond to the treatment. I'll try the hy- 
 podermic application again." 
 
 Then he thrust the syringe into the child's 
 shoulder, and was answered by a cry of pain. The 
 rally followed quickly, to the extent of the little 
 one opening her eyes and muttering a few words. 
 
 "Dawg! Dawg!" exclaimed Mrs. Harris-, ris- 
 ing on the sofa, and rubbing her eyes. "What 
 was that about a dawg?" 
 
 "You've been dreaming," cried the Doctor. 
 "Somebody's dog got killed awhile ago, as I told 
 Miss Field ; and you've been turning it over in
 
 THE STRANGER 35 1 
 
 your sleep, till you've got to dreaming of Cer- 
 berus and Anubis and everything else of the dog 
 kind. Go to sleep." 
 
 The child improved slowly, so that when the 
 old Doctor left at sunrise, she was in about as 
 good condition as when Eleanor began her mel- 
 ancholy vigil.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 But the crisis was not past. The little sufferer 
 remained fevered, prostrated, and restless all the 
 following- day. In her distress, Mrs. Haxwell 
 begged that the teacher would remain with Min- 
 nie as long as she could. As the child declared 
 that all she wished was to have "Miss Eleanor" 
 with her, Eleanor stayed throughout the dav, and 
 agreed to remain until the next morning, though 
 she was tired and despondent. In the afternoon 
 she was joined by a lady of the name of Gibson, 
 a very thin and sallow old maid, with a good 
 many affectations and a profusion of false curls 
 and combs, who announced that she was there 
 for the night. 
 
 The air was sultry and close all day long, and 
 at nightfall was more oppressive than ever. 
 Large, white thunder-heads rose in the skv at 
 noon, and continued to grow and pass, moved by 
 a breeze which never touched the dry, hot earth. 
 Scarcely a leaf of the oaks around the cottage 
 rustled between sunrise and night: scarcely a 
 sound was heard on the streets there was everv- 
 where a stillness, trying to the steadiest nerves, 
 and to the worn and anxious stranger ominous of 
 calamity. The physician came shortly before 
 noon, and again toward sunset. He was very 
 grave and gentle. When he went awav the sec- 
 ond time he scanned the teacher's face closelv, 
 and then said, "It is pretty hard on you. But 
 you will last through the night ; and, go the case
 
 THE STRANGER 353 
 
 as it may, I think you will not be needed here 
 after that." Which implied that the disease would 
 reach its crisis during the night and the patient 
 be dead or positively mending by the next morn- 
 ing. He added, "You know these little ones 
 either go to pieces or recuperate very fast." 
 
 The little negress Polly slipped noiselessly into 
 the room at dusk, and squatted on the floor in the 
 corner near Minnie's bed. And there she sat al- 
 most motionless, but always watchful. Eleanor 
 observed that she hastened to pick up and hand 
 her her handkerchief two or three times when it 
 dropped to the floor; and she also observed that 
 Polly's great eyes were always wide open, the 
 whites of them being very conspicuous in the 
 gloom and in contrast with her very black face. 
 Polly had been fond of "Miss Ellen," and fond of 
 Minnie. After a bit, she told Polly that she had 
 missed her the night before, and had inferred that 
 she had left Mrs. Haxwell's service. 
 
 "No'm," answered Polly in a subdued tone. 
 "My ma sont fer me yistiddy mornin', an' she 
 didn't want me to come back ag'in till Minnie got 
 well. But I come back anyhow." 
 
 "She was afraid you would catch the fever?" 
 
 "Yes'm. But I says to her, 'Ef I gwine to have 
 de fever, I gwine to have it anyhow, 'cause me an' 
 Minnie bin togedder till long atter she got it!' 
 An' I says, 'Miss Ellen done gone dar ; an' I mus' 
 be 'longsides o' her an' Minnie.' So she let me 
 come." 
 
 The night wore on drearily. The patient rarely 
 spoke. Miss Gibson talked somewhat in the early 
 23
 
 354 THE STRANGER 
 
 evening concerning- good and bad families, and 
 the former luxury of her life now quite gone in 
 consequence of the war; but when the night 
 came, she retired to a window, and seldom spoke 
 or moved. About nine o'clock deep-voiced 
 thunder began to sound in the distance, and 
 sheets of lightning passed over the heavens. But 
 for some time the air remained still and close and 
 oppressively warm. Mrs. Haxwell came and 
 went, always as noiselessly as was possible for her, 
 but always with noise which agitated the child. 
 The situation was most distressing. The child 
 seemed to be dying, but without the physician no 
 new treatment could be adopted. 
 
 After a while the lightning flashed more fre- 
 quently and brilliantly, the thunder roared more 
 loudly, and the wind arose, all betokening a ter- 
 rible storm rapidly approaching. Just after a 
 blaze of electricity which filled the room with daz- 
 zling light, and was succeeded almost instantly 
 by a roar of thunder which shook the cottage to 
 its foundation, the mother lost all self-control, and 
 cried out, 
 
 "O my God! The Doctor will never, never 
 come !" 
 
 Miss Gibson shivered and burst into tears. The 
 child started, then lay still, moaning piteously. 
 
 "Do not be afraid," said the teacher, speaking 
 as steadily as her own excitement allowed. "God 
 is always with us, and never forgets us. He will 
 send the Doctor before long." 
 
 Hardly were the words spoken when a heavy 
 tread was heard in the piazza, and in a minute the 
 old man walked in, breathing hard, and mopping
 
 THE STRANGER 355 
 
 his bald, moist, shining head with his handker- 
 chief. 
 
 He had barely outtraveled the storm. Almost 
 at once it broke upon them with a terrific gale of 
 wind, fierce lightning, loud thunder, and a deluge 
 of rain. 
 
 Mrs. Haxwell, standing before the open fire- 
 place, cried aloud. The Doctor rushed from the 
 bedside toward her. But before he reached her 
 the room was filled with a flood of glaring light, 
 the thunder roared deafeningly, and the woman fell 
 in a heap to the floor. The Doctor staggered 
 somewhat from the shock, which affected all of 
 them, but quickly laid hold on the motionless fig- 
 ure, and called to the two nurses. 
 
 "Miss Gibson, take Miss Field's place at the 
 bed. Miss Field, come and help me." 
 
 Imitating his movements, the teacher causrht 
 Mrs. Haxwell by an arm. Then they raised her. 
 
 "We'll have her out in the rain the onlv thing 
 to be done," cried he. And then they half car- 
 ried, half dragged the heavy, limp figure out of 
 the room, through the passage, across the narrow 
 portico in the rear, down the steps, and into the 
 yard, where the wind blew furiously and the rain 
 poured in torrents, amid a blaze of lightning and 
 an unbroken roar of thunder. 
 
 "Flingf her down!" shouted the Doctor, and 
 they laid the insensible figure flat in the rain. 
 
 "Won't she be drowned?" cried the teacher, 
 still holding the woman's arm. 
 
 "No, indeed!" bawled the old man. "It's the 
 only thing for her. Fortunately there is plenty of
 
 356 THE STRANGER 
 
 water. Don't bother yourself. Wait till she kicks 
 or squalls." 
 
 And there they remained, the rain drenching 
 their clothing, and the wind howling around them, 
 while lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Be- 
 fore long the woman began to struggle, and then 
 to mutter. 
 
 "Well, Nancy," said the Doctor, "I think you 
 have about bath enough for this time. So, Miss 
 Field, we'll drag her in, and let her dry off at her 
 leisure." 
 
 Accordingly they lifted her and carried her to 
 her bedroom, where the physician took a quilt 
 from her bed, spread it on the floor, laid her on 
 it, put a pillow under her head, and sent the 
 teacher back to the child, saying that he would 
 join her as soon as possible. 
 
 The child lay still, and Miss Gibson, with her 
 head on the bed, sobbed hysterically. Polly 
 squatted in her corner, silent and motionless, and 
 winking her great eyes in stupefaction. Dr. 
 Thompson entered pretty soon, breathing loudly 
 and wringing the rain from his clothing. He only 
 said, "Pretty hard work. But we've got rid of 
 Nancy Haxwell for a while." 
 
 He then took off his wet coat, and addressed 
 himself to a very careful and gentle examination 
 of the little girl. After much effort they roused 
 the child, and, assisted by the effort she made, suc- 
 ceeded in administering medicine. She seemed 
 to feel pain, and cried feebly. 
 
 "It's burning her," said the Doctor, "and will 
 nauseate her directly. Now you try to engage her
 
 THE STRANGER 357 
 
 attention and occupy her mind while it is alive to 
 surroundings." 
 
 Eleanor sat on the bed, raised the emaciated 
 form, and held the drooping head against her 
 bosom. 
 
 "Minnie," said she, "can you listen to me?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, Miss Field; but I feel so hot and 
 sick." 
 
 "It is good medicine that Dr. Thompson has 
 given you, and I hope it will make you well. Let 
 us talk about something. I might tell you a story 
 of a young lady and a little bird, if you would 
 like."' 
 
 Polly rose and stood near. "Dat's so," said 
 she. "Minnie, don' you 'member how Miss Ellen 
 used to tell us 'bout lions an' tigers an' rabbits and 
 sich? Do please, Miss Ellen, tell us 'bout dat 
 lady an' de little bu'd." 
 
 "Yes, please," murmured the child. 
 
 "Well," said the teacher, "once upon a time 
 there was a young lady who lived pretty much by 
 herself. Her mother and her sisters and her 
 brothers lived far away; and she used to grow 
 very lonely and sad, and often walked into the 
 fields and forests, to see the beautiful flowers, and 
 hear the birds sing. And there was one body of 
 woods where she went so often that the birds got 
 to know her; and they would not fly unless she 
 came very, very near to them. And some of 
 them would come pretty close to her feet, to eat 
 the crumbs of bread she often threw them " 
 
 "I boun' dem bu'ds love de booful lady what 
 come an' feed 'em," said Polly. 
 
 "And sometimes, when she knew that nobody
 
 358 THE STRANGER 
 
 was near, she would sing to the little birds. And 
 they would stop their singing to listen to her, and 
 would, when they grew to know her, come closer 
 to her while she sang." 
 
 "I boun' she sing sweeter as any bu'd," re- 
 marked Polly, confidently. 
 
 "One day, when just at the edge of the forest, 
 she heard the voice of a very young bird, which 
 seemed to be calling for its mother. She did not 
 go to it at once, for fear she would scare the little 
 thing, but she stood awhile and waited. The 
 bird's mother did not come to it, and did not 
 answer its pitiful cry. There was a great, fierce 
 hawk flying not far off, in circles, and screaming, 
 and blue jays were chattering in a tree near by; 
 but she knew that they would not help the little 
 one, for it was not a baby jay. She feared, in- 
 deed, that the hawk and the jays would hurt the 
 little thing." 
 
 "But I know she ain't gwine let dem hawk an' 
 jay-bu'd hu't dat HT bu'd," cried Polly. 
 
 "No, indeed," said the teacher. "Coming closer 
 to the bush where the little one was, the lady saw 
 a nest, torn, and scattered on the ground; and 
 then she saw the little sparrow that had been cry- 
 ing for its mother. It was too young to fly, if it 
 had not been hurt; but she saw that its little 
 wings had been torn, and were bleeding." 
 
 "Dem hawk an' jay-bu'd !" exclaimed Polly, in- 
 dignantly. "I reckon dey done kilt dat little 
 sparrer's ma, an' gwine to kill him too when dey 
 git a chance." 
 
 "It was a little, little thing not a great deal 
 larger than the end of my thumb. Its breast had
 
 THE STRANGER 359 
 
 soft down on it ; its wings had very few feathers ; 
 and its little tail was scarcely half as long as one of 
 your fingers." 
 
 She saw Polly measuring the length of one of 
 her black digits ; and Minnie also showed her in- 
 terest by a similar movement of her thumb on the 
 forefinger of the same wasted hand. 
 
 "So the lady said to the birdling, 'Dear little 
 bird, what is the matter?' And the wee thing 
 twittered, 'A great something came just now, 
 while I was sleeping in the nest, and it screamed 
 horribly. And then I and the nest were struck, 
 and thrown on the ground.' 'And where did your 
 mamma go?' asked the lady. 'I cannot tell,' 
 answered the little bird, crying. 'She has never 
 answered me.' ' 
 
 "I jis' know," cried Polly, excitedly, "soon's 
 Miss Ellen tell 'bout dat hawk screamin' an' jay- 
 bu'd chatterin', dat dey done kill dat sparrer's ma 
 an' hu't dat sparrer hisself !" 
 
 "Ah, Lord!" groaned the Doctor, wiping his 
 shining head. 
 
 The teacher repressed Polly's ardor by laying a 
 finger on her own lips, and resumed. "Then the 
 lady lifted up the little sparrow as carefully and 
 gently as she could. And she wiped off with her 
 handkerchief the blood on its breast, and took 
 some moss from the nest, and made a sort of bed 
 for the little thing to lie -on. One of the middle 
 bones of one wing was broken." 
 
 Minnie shivered ; Polly stared. 
 
 "But," continued Eleanor, "that lady knew 
 what to do; and so she told the little bird to be
 
 360 THE STRANGER 
 
 \ 
 
 patient and bear pain as well as it could, until she 
 could lay it in the nest." 
 
 "I know she am' gwine hu't dat sparrer," said 
 Polly, decisively; "an' sparrer gwine know it putty 
 soon, too !" 
 
 "Did it hurt the little bird much?" asked Min- 
 nie. 
 
 "Oh, yes ; but at last the lady had the birdling in 
 the old nest. And then she took nest and bird on 
 her arm, close to her heart, and went back toward 
 her home. But the way was long and rough, and 
 the little bird was feverish and sick. And more 
 than once he complained, saying, 'Leave me here 
 to die.' But the lady said, 'God cares for little 
 sparrows, as He does for all His creatures. And 
 the Saviour of the world has told us that He feeds 
 the fowls of the air and clothes the lilies of the 
 field. And He says that our Heavenly Father 
 knows even when one little sparrow falls to the 
 ground, as you fell, birdie, just now.' And the 
 sparrowkin was comforted for a time; but after 
 a while it complained again, and prayed to he left 
 on the ground to die. But the lady told it that if 
 it would only be patient, till she could take it to 
 her home, she would bandage the wounded limb, 
 to keep it steady, and put cool water on it, to keep 
 down the fever and pain. The bird was quiet for 
 a few minutes. But as they went on through the 
 sun, it grew sorer and sicker and hotter, and chir- 
 ruped fretfully to the lady, saying, 'Something 
 beats and knocks against me as you hold me in 
 your arms, and gives me, oh, so much misery!' 
 And the lady answered, 'That is my heart, throb- 
 bing from rapid walking and the heat of the sun;
 
 THE STRANGER 361 
 
 but you must know that it is also throbbing for 
 you.' And then the birdie felt sorry for complain- 
 ing, and nestled his head against the lady's bosom, 
 and was quiet." 
 
 "The birdie ought to have known better," mur- 
 mured Minnie. 
 
 "You nuvver min', Minnie," said Polly, consol- 
 ingly. "I boun' dat boo'ful lady bring 'em all 
 right." 
 
 "So," resumed the teacher, "they went on. 
 And when they reached the lady's home, she took 
 soft linen, and bound it around and around the 
 broken wing, and poured cold, fresh water on the 
 cloths and gave the birdie a few drops to drink, 
 and persuaded him to eat a few crumbs of bread. 
 The birdie did not want to eat; but when the lady 
 told him it would be good for him, he took what 
 she gave him. Then she put the birdie into a 
 little basket, filled with soft, white cotton, and told 
 him to sleep. And when the birdie couldn't sleep, 
 the lady set the basket in the window, and sat 
 down by it, and sang such a sweet song that the 
 birdie was soon asleep and resting." 
 
 "I know dat song jis' like what Miss Ellen sing 
 to me an' you, Minnie, when we come a-playin' 
 under her winder," cried Polly. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said the child, "the song she sang 
 that last day she was here !" 
 
 "God bless us! God bless us!" murmured the 
 Doctor, as he retired into the shadow of the 
 chimney, and cleared his throat softly. 
 
 "Amen!" sighed Miss Gibson; and then she 
 laid her head curls, combs, bows, hairpins, all
 
 362 THE STRANGER 
 
 on the window-sill, and indulged herself in what 
 women call "a good cry." 
 
 But the child was not asleep, and Polly was 
 not satisfied. 
 
 "What come o' dat bu'd?" asked the latter. 
 
 "The lady kept it till it got well," answered the 
 teacher. "She had to keep it for several weeks. 
 But finally the birdie could not only hop around 
 on the floor of the room, but could move the 
 broken wing, and flutter from one chair to 
 another." 
 
 "I hope he t'ank de lady," suggested Polly. 
 
 "Oh, yes. He said to her, very often, 'Cheep, 
 cheep ! to-wee !' And while she sat at her table 
 and read, birdie would scramble on top of the 
 table and twitter to her. But, one day, when the 
 sparrow's wings seemed to be strong, the lady 
 carried him to the open window, and said to him, 
 'Little bird, you would rather fly out into the air, 
 and go and talk with the other sparrows, than 
 stay here. Go then!' And she put him on her 
 finger ; and after saying 'cheep' to her, birdie rose 
 and flew away to the rosebush near by, where 
 there were three or four other sparrows chirping." 
 
 "Oh, the mean thing," sighed Minnie, "to go 
 away and leave his good friend !" 
 
 "Nuvver you min', Minnie," cried Polly posi- 
 tively. "I lay dat bu'd ain' gwine go 'way fer 
 good fum de boo'ful lady !" 
 
 "And did he stay away?" murmured Minnie. 
 
 "I can't say," replied the teacher. "But after 
 a while three or four sparrows lit on the rose- 
 bush, right against the window, and all of them
 
 THE STRANGER 363 
 
 chattered to the lady while she stood at the 
 window and talked to them." 
 
 "Minnie," cried Polly, triumphantly, "Minnie, 
 ain't I done tole you dat little bu'd ain' gwine fer 
 fum de boo'ful lady !" 
 
 "And did the sweet lady sing to them?" asked 
 the child. 
 
 "Yes, the lady sang?" 
 
 "What song was it?" murmured the child, drow- 
 sily. 
 
 "The same one she sang to the crippled bird- 
 ling." And then she sang, in a low, clear voice, 
 Tennyson's baby-song '"What does little Birdie 
 say?" 
 
 The little eyes closed, the little hands relaxed 
 their clasp; and before the song ceased Minnie 
 was sleeping peacefully. 
 
 The Doctor now came forward and touched 
 very lightly the brow and hands of the child. 
 Then he beckoned to the teacher to follow him. 
 
 As soon as they reached the front piazza he 
 grasped her hand excitedly, and exclaimed : 
 
 "By George, we've won the fight !" 
 
 "Thank God!" said she. 
 
 "And thank you, as God's instrument!" cried 
 he. "You've done what all the doctors in the 
 world couldn't have done! God bless you, my 
 dear! It does an old man's heart good to see 
 and hear such a woman. It's a d d outrage that 
 you have not been appreciated in this community. 
 But you've got a friend in old Ike Thompson; 
 and if you ever want any help, come to him !" 
 
 "You are very, very kind," murmured Eleanor, 
 weeping for joy.
 
 364 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Kind! My Lord! I'm only saying less than 
 the tenth part of what I feel !" roared he. 
 
 And the rising sun, when he looked into the 
 chamber of sickness, saw Minnie with a new color 
 on her cheeks and a new light in her eyes, and 
 shone on a group of watchers rejoicing that the 
 reaper Death had passed by.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 On Saturday morning Colonel Tomlinson came, 
 in all his grandeur to see the teacher. He was 
 clothed in spotless broadcloth and stainless linen; 
 his rosy face was shaven clean and sleek; his 
 long white locks were combed behind his ears 
 in graceful, patriarchal regularity; and his poses 
 and speeches were full of dignity. Fortunately 
 for the stranger's nerves, their interview was 
 brief. After referring to the death of three chil- 
 dren in the village, and expressing commiseration 
 with their families, and confessing the inability 
 of the trustees to determine how long the epi- 
 demic of scarlet fever would continue to afflict 
 the community, he informed her that he had come, 
 as chairman of the board, to announce to her that 
 the exercises of the school would be suspended 
 for another week. 
 
 When she started to express her regret, he 
 anticipated any embarrassment purely personal 
 to herself by saying that the trouble being one 
 which she neither had caused nor could control, 
 her salary would not be affected by the enforced 
 vacation. And he was so good as to add that it 
 was known to him and to others that she had 
 voluntarily subjected herself to the infection, and 
 had rendered a great service in, according to 
 Dr. Thompson's account, saving the life of a 
 "certain" child. 
 
 Then he waved to her with his large hand, and, 
 bowing profoundly took his departure.
 
 366 THE STRANGER 
 
 On the Monday two weeks after the suspension 
 of the school, exercises were resumed, with an 
 attendance of thirty-one scholars. Laura Cog- 
 burn was not there, but Charley Tomlinson was, 
 as fresh and full of himself as ever. The Lubecks 
 returned as disagreeable and silly as ever. Jake 
 Haxwell came back from the country, and to 
 school; and little Minnie, very pale and nervous 
 and unequal to any study, would come for a short 
 time each day. And the Jernigan family sent a 
 very slim, yellow boy, named Thomas, the nephew 
 and namesake of Mr. Tom Jernigan. It appeared 
 afterward that the mention of Eleanor Field as 
 "a mighty smart young woman fum the Nawth" 
 by Thomas and his sister Sarah Ann had led the 
 lad's father, who lived twelve miles away in the 
 country, to send him to board with his grand- 
 parents, and go to school. 
 
 And the resumption of the school was speedily 
 followed by another turn of good fortune for the 
 teacher. The Federal authorities decided to dis- 
 continue political arrests, and to enlarge on bail 
 the many prisoners in the county jail. It is true 
 that every one of them was bound over to answer 
 to indictments in the Federal Court, for the crime 
 of Ku Kluxing; but almost any sort of bail was 
 accepted, and the captives returned to their homes 
 amid general rejoicing among the white popu- 
 lation. 
 
 It was now full summer in the South the 
 period of the sun's absolute domination. Day 
 after day that fiery autocrat blazed for more than 
 fourteen hours in unclouded brilliance, and night 
 after night the tired earth, without a wave of
 
 THE STRANGER 367 
 
 cooling air to refresh her, lay palpitating through 
 the few hours of darkness, awaiting the coming 
 of her lord. 
 
 Rarely during the day did clouds venture to 
 interpose between the sun's fiery face and the 
 shrinking subjects beneath it ; and when they did, 
 they often opened their dark, tumultuous ranks, 
 as if to show to a sweltering and fearful world 
 him who employed them as the ministers of his 
 power. 
 
 Sometimes, great masses of wreathing, rolling 
 vapor gathered in the west as he made ready for 
 his departure vapor gradually hardening into 
 such solidity that its outlines stood clear-cut and 
 sharp against the sky; but even those gigantic 
 forms, booming with deep thunder, and blazing 
 with lightning, took their strong, varied colors 
 from their king, and waited for his going. Then 
 they burst upon an enfeebled and weary world, 
 and rocked and tore and affrighted it with roar 
 and crash of vivid flame, adding, every moment, 
 sound to sound and brightness to brightness and 
 tempest breath to tempest breath, till there 
 seemed to be a universal blaze and thunder of fury. 
 
 Most times, however, the night was clear and 
 still; no cloud obscured the pale moon or passed 
 before the stars, or reflected a single ray, no 
 breeze stirred the air or moved a leaf or flower. 
 And then the silence became more impressive 
 than all the sounds of day or of evening tornado. 
 
 After this, after the midnight, there was a 
 change which no man has made comprehensible 
 to us, and which only those who, led to the con- 
 templation of a Southern night in summer by
 
 368 THE STRANGER 
 
 sickness, or a restless mind, have experienced 
 and considered a change from absolute noise- 
 lessness to one great, sad sigh. The hearing of 
 this breathing of material nature may have sug- 
 gested to the ancient Greek, in his clear, dry 
 atmosphere, that soft melody which most of us think 
 expressed as the music of the spheres, and which, 
 catching it as fully as one in the grosser air of 
 England could well do, the great master of expres- 
 sion has described as a choiring of harmonies by 
 the stars; but to us who have often listened to 
 the melancholy monotone no such suggestion is 
 at all admissible. The music of the spheres, alas, 
 is not sound. Yet every sensitive watcher between 
 midnight and dawn, in Southern lands, where no 
 wind blows, and no moan or other sound reaches, 
 can testify that, in those still, solemn hours, there 
 arises a voice of profoundest melancholy. 
 
 That voice, borne on no breath of air, the soli- 
 tary stranger heard, many and many a time, when, 
 roused from a brief repose by disturbing dreams 
 or by her incapacity for rest, she left her bed to 
 catch a cooling draft of air and watch the stars. 
 One alone of these gave either encouragement 
 to the observer or token of its own vivacity 
 the morning star, glittering in full splendor in 
 the cloudless east, fresh and hopeful, though soon 
 to be quenched in the overpowering effulgence 
 of sunlight. 
 
 And to her many a night was first sultry heat 
 and silence, then the sigh of nature breathing 
 through a pulseless air, then the brief cheering ra- 
 diance of one planet, then a burst of bird-harmony, 
 then the return of blazing light and sun-rule.
 
 THE STRANGER 369 
 
 It was hard for one unaccustomed to such a 
 climate to prosecute any employment with energy 
 and constancy. For her there was absolutely no 
 period of repose or recuperation. Sunrise often 
 found her even more weary than sunset left her. 
 She soon learned to account for the lack of celer- 
 ity and industry in Southern lands; and indeed, 
 she soon began to wonder utterly unacclimated 
 as she was how they could in summer time exer- 
 cise any energy either of body or of mind. 
 
 Much tardiness and languor characterized the 
 study and action of the pupils, and it was difficult 
 to secure the attention of most of them, even 
 when the teacher attempted to assist them in their 
 work. But suffering herself under the same or 
 greater lassitude, she made large allowance for 
 them, and thus preserved her own composure and 
 their good will. 
 
 24
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 On Thursday morning, the 2Oth day of June, 
 just as the teacher adjusted her hat, preparatory 
 to going to school, Cindy, the maid of all work, 
 who had succeeded old Nancy, announced that a 
 "young boy" desired to see her. He proved to 
 be Thomas Jernigan, Jr., one of the new scholars. 
 Thomas, after taking off his hat at the door, 
 handed Eleanor Field a sheet of writing-paper, 
 very much crumpled and not a little soiled. 
 Opening it she read : 
 
 "The plezure of your company is requested to 
 a party at Mr. Hiram Jernigan's on Friday the 21 
 instance at 8 o'clock p. m. in the evening." 
 
 To this writing was appended a long list of 
 male and female names, some crossed out, some 
 marked with a cross-mark, some unmarked. 
 
 "Well, Thomas," said Eleanor, not quite under- 
 standing the paper, "what am I to do?" 
 
 "Ain't you seen your name thar in that lis'?" 
 asked Thomas. 
 
 "Oh!" said she, "I'll read further. Yes, here 
 it is." 
 
 "I thought it was thar," observed Thomas, 
 with satisfaction. "Well, you jist put a cross- 
 mark at it, so's to show you've been invited to 
 the party. Some uv 'em's scratched out entirely 
 them what Aunt Sar' Ann didn't want to be 
 axed. But them as is axed is to put a mark at 
 ther names." 
 
 The teacher marked her name "Miss Eleanor
 
 THE STRANGER 371 
 
 Field" it stood and returned the paper to 
 Thomas, who at once took his leave. 
 
 Here was an invitation to an entertainment 
 a very large one and the stranger was at a loss 
 what to do. However, the first name was Mar- 
 garet Mason's, and she would instruct the teacher. 
 No reply was expected or desired ; and there was 
 an abundance of time to hear from Oak Hall. 
 
 That afternoon Margaret Mason stopped at 
 Squire Williams's. She insisted that the teacher 
 should not only attend the party, but also accom- 
 pany her to Oak Hall, the next afternoon, go to 
 the party with her, and afterward spend the night 
 and the next day or two with her. 
 
 On going away, she said, laughing, "I shall call 
 for you at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon, so 
 as to give you time for learning about such a 
 party as the Jernigans get up. Have your party- 
 things ready to carry with you, as you will dress 
 at our house. It is to be quite an affair. More 
 than a hundred guests have been 'axed,' and we 
 are to be there promptly at the hour." 
 
 It was not without serious misgivings that the 
 teacher undertook to appear on such a scene ; but 
 she could not stay away without giving offense, 
 and she felt comparatively safe in the company 
 of Margaret Mason. The details of her toilet 
 need not be set forth. It may be mentioned, 
 however, that Margaret dressed herself plainly 
 and wore no jewelry except a large solitaire 
 diamond brooch at the throat of her high-necked 
 gown. She compelled the teacher to lay aside 
 her evening-gowns, saying that it would excite 
 too much talk for any one especially a stranger
 
 372 THE STRANGER 
 
 to go decollete. She also had Eleanor leave 
 off bracelets, brooches, and all ornaments for the 
 hair, and wear, in the way of jewelry, only an old 
 necklace of gold beads. "Never mind," said Mar- 
 garet, "that will look exceedingly fine to that 
 crowd, and it will give heart to a dozen girls who 
 will wear necklaces of all colors, sizes and 
 materials." 
 
 Then there was a discussion concerning gloves. 
 Eleanor insisted on white kid. Margaret doubted 
 if any at all would be tolerated. Finally they com- 
 promised by adopting pale lilac kid gloves for both. 
 
 Eight o'clock meant eight o'clock in that neigh- 
 borhood, and a large crowd had already gathered 
 when the Mason carriage arrived. They were 
 met at the door by Mr. Thomas Jernigan all 
 smiles and arrayed in black frock-coat, white 
 Marseilles vest, a high black stock, and black 
 trousers. His hair was parted just over his right 
 ear, and stood up in an enormous mass on the 
 summit of his cranium, so that from the soles of 
 his heavy shoes to the crest of his hair he stood 
 full six feet four inches. He was "powerful glad" 
 to see them, and bawled loudly for "Sar' Ann." 
 The latter answered the call in haste arrayed in 
 the identical purple gown Eleanor had helped to 
 complete, without gloves, but with a luxuriant 
 floral display on her head and full bosom, with 
 earrings of vast size, a necklace of beads showing 
 all the colors, a brooch of great dimensions, and 
 bracelets of uncertain color and design. She was 
 very happy; and her large, round, brown eyes, 
 her full, rosy cheeks, and her voluptuous lips 
 parted in a smile which displayed teeth of brilliant
 
 THE STRANGER 373 
 
 whiteness and perfect shape, made her little less 
 than beautiful. 
 
 She also was "powerful" glad so glad that she 
 had to give both Margaret and the teacher a re- 
 sounding kiss. 
 
 When they entered the "parlor" as the draw- 
 ing-room is commonly called in the South, they 
 saw two rows of chairs ranged along all the four 
 walls. In the rear rank were seated some old 
 women and middle-aged women, with here and 
 there a young girl; in the front rank were the 
 younger women. While they paused to get their 
 bearings Eleanor observed, seated in the front 
 rank, seven or eight maidens in a row, ranging ap- 
 parently from twelve to fifteen years of age, all in 
 white muslin, with little or no jewelry, all with 
 roses in their hair and at their throats, all in short 
 dresses, wearing black boots and no gloves. She 
 recognized two of her pupils among them. Their 
 eyes were bright, their cheeks rosy, and their 
 manner demonstrative of happy excitement. She 
 thought them quite pretty and graceful, as they 
 chattered and giggled with one another. She 
 also observed that their hands were small and 
 white, and that their feet were delicate and slen- 
 der and arched. Her two pupils bowed and 
 smiled to her which was very nice of them. 
 
 While they paused, and Margaret exchanged 
 a few words with the bystanders, Eleanor noticed 
 that the maidens just mentioned fixed their eyes 
 on the crowd at the door, and then tittered and 
 nudged one another. Looking round for the 
 cause, she saw Marcus Aurelius Vaughn burst 
 through the throng and glide across the open
 
 374 THE STRANGER 
 
 floor. He was in full evening dress, and his 
 long, curling hair floated like a golden cloud over 
 his shoulders as he rapidly sped, with alternate 
 full and short steps, toward the smiling girls. He 
 exclaimed as he went, "Ah me!" "Sweet crea- 
 tures!" "Dear, oh dear!" and then went to shak- 
 ing their hands with both of his, as they rose to 
 meet him. There was next a clamor of the young 
 tongues. "Oh, Mr. Vaughn!" "Mr. Vaughn, 
 you are perfectly beautiful!" "I knew you'd be 
 here!" "Where did you get that sweet rose?" 
 "Mr. Vaughn, won't you cut the pigeon-wing 
 to-night ?" 
 
 Marcus Aurelius was supremely happy, and he 
 bowed, kissed his hand, made all sorts of gestures, 
 and smiled on all, crying out such things as, "Dear 
 me!" "Sweet creatures!" "Charming lasses!" 
 "To be sure!" "Oh, my!" "What a delight!" 
 And then he shook hands with everybody in reach, 
 stumbling over the front rank to grasp the hand 
 of the older ladies in the rear, till finally, getting 
 his center of gravity on the farther side of a chair, 
 he had to be lifted to the perpendicular and placed 
 on his feet by a raw-boned, tall woman who, 
 though laughing heartily, gave him a punch to 
 make sure of his not falling over her again. But 
 Mr. Vaughn was not a bit disconcerted. He chat- 
 tered, and bowed, and pushed about among the 
 girls who surrounded him perfectly happy. 
 
 But after a while there was a suspension of 
 conversation and laughter, even in Mr. Vaughn's 
 vicinity, and all eyes were directed to the door. 
 Directly there emerged from the group there as- 
 sembled the stately form of Colonel Tomlinson,
 
 THE STRANGER 375 
 
 with his wife. The Colonel stalked toward the 
 center of the room, his little companion clinging 
 to his arm. There they were met by several of 
 the older persons of the company, to whom the 
 small lady spoke gently, and on whom her hus- 
 band bestowed oritund speeches and large waves 
 of the hand. The Colonel was in regulation 
 evening costume, and his wife, clad in simple 
 black, looked meek and sad. Margaret caught 
 the lady's eye, and presented Eleanor to her with 
 the quiet yet positive emphasis which no man or 
 woman could misunderstand. Mrs. Tomlinson 
 fluttered somewhat, and showed signs ot nervous- 
 ness ; but she was so gentle, and had such a tone 
 of deprecation, that the stranger was quite ready 
 to meet her halfway in her evident proposal to be 
 friendly. Yet Eleanor could not escape reflection. 
 "How many good women have been shut off from 
 me here by the ostracism of all Northerners !" 
 
 Soon there was another commotion and there 
 strode into the room a dark, tall, broad-shouldered 
 man, with long, waving black hair, that fell over 
 his collar, and an enormous mustache. He was 
 in evening dress, and his well-fitting garments dis- 
 played to great advantage the symmetry of his 
 fine figure. He was greeted cordially by Colonel 
 and Mrs. Tomlinson, to whom he responded in 
 a clear, ringing voice and a very positive utterance. 
 At first the crowd seemed to stop and admire 
 him ; and then some of the older men and women 
 advanced to him, and shook hands with him. He 
 was a beautiful figure only he was so self-con- 
 scious.
 
 376 THE STRANGER 
 
 "I have seen that gentleman before," whispered 
 the teacher to Margaret Mason. "Who is he?" 
 
 "That is Colonel Jenkins," returned her friend, 
 with a smile "Colonel Samuel Jenkins, formerly 
 of the Confederate Cavalry." 
 
 The teacher at once recalled the bloody nar- 
 rative of adventures she had heard at the hotel 
 table on the day of her arrival in Cherenden. 
 
 The Colonel soon perceived Miss Mason, and 
 at once came to her, with much show. Margaret 
 shook hands with him, and after exchanging a 
 few words in a low tone turned to Eleanor. 
 
 "Miss Field," said she, "allow me to present to 
 you my friend Colonel Jenkins." 
 
 The Colonel bowed gravely and gloomily; but 
 he proceeded to speak courteously and consider- 
 ately concerning the weather and the occasion. 
 Margaret did not abandon her friend to him, but 
 took part in the conversation, keeping a hand on 
 one of the teacher's arms all the time. The 
 teacher knew what that meant; and, apparently, 
 Colonel Jenkins knew, too. 
 
 While the Colonel pulled his thick, pendant 
 and raven-black mustache, and ventilated his per- 
 siflage, there was again a silence and a turning 
 of eyes to the door. Then the stranger saw 
 William Huntley, tall, erect, and unaffected, 
 entering the room. He was, of course, in regu- 
 lation costume only his vest was high and close, 
 and he wore nothing but black, except white kid 
 gloves. And the contrast in color suggested to 
 Eleanor the unusual smallness of his hands 
 hands which seemed ill suited to pulling down 
 the wildest horses and striking down huge men.
 
 THE STRANGER 377 
 
 There was no appearance of unfriendliness on 
 his face, and he returned greetings with kindly 
 words and smiles; she saw one of the young 
 girls blush with pleasure when he took her hand and 
 spoke to her. But he did not stay longer than 
 a few seconds with any one, until he seemed to 
 recognize an aged lady in the rear rank. To 
 her he went at once, and when she rose to meet 
 him he took her hand and held it long in his, 
 speaking to her gravely. Eleanor saw his com- 
 panion put her handkerchief to her eyes, after 
 a little while ; but she removed it before he left her. 
 
 Then Margaret said to her, "You see William 
 talking to that wan, delicate woman over there? 
 Do you remember with what solemnity he placed 
 a garland on a soldier's tomb on Memorial Day? 
 That lady is the mother of his dead soldier- 
 friend. The young girl whose hand he took, 
 just before he discovered the older lady, is the 
 orphan niece of his friend." 
 
 Huntley came to them pretty soon. He spoke 
 to Eleanor first, and, for the first time, offered 
 his hand to her. He said that he was glad to 
 see them there; that he should now be sure of 
 having two persons who would listen, "after a 
 fashion," to his commentaries on "things present." 
 Eleanor laughed. 
 
 "You understand, I see," said he, smiling. 
 "And your apprehension of my meaning assures 
 me that I shall be able to impart to you some 
 information." 
 
 "How are you, Huntley?" cried Colonel Jen- 
 kins, extending his hand. 
 
 "Well, thank you, Jenkins," returned Huntley,
 
 378 jj THE STRANGER 
 
 touching the tips of his fingers. "I hope you are 
 'enjoying the same blessing.' ' 
 
 "I was never better," said the Colonel, "and 
 never in finer condition to enjoy social festivities." 
 
 "Notwithstanding the warm weather?" 
 
 "Well, it is fearfully hot and close here," said the 
 Colonel, wiping his warm face with a *highly 
 scented handkerchief. 
 
 "There is a cooler atmosphere in the front 
 piazza.," remarked Huntley, gravely; "but the 
 fumes of pipes out there render it rather difficult 
 to breathe. So I suppose we shall have to endure 
 this until some diversion is made. Perhaps there 
 will be dancing. I heard the tuning of violins 
 as I came in. If they dance in the hall it will 
 relieve the pressure here. How about it, Jen- 
 kins?" 
 
 "I'm glad you suggested it," cried the Colonel. 
 I'll look after it." 
 
 When the dancing was announced, Colonel 
 Tomlinson asked Margaret to dance. She de- 
 clined, saying that she had decided to save her- 
 self for the Virginia reel, at the close. 
 
 Colonel Jenkins, returning in haste, took pos- 
 session of a sixteen-year-old girl, who seemed 
 highly flattered. No one invited the teacher. 
 
 Huntley, still standing before her, said, "We 
 shall now be able to get to a window and enjoy 
 fresh air." 
 
 He was right. The room was quickly emptied, 
 except for a few old ladies who remained against 
 the walls, Margaret Mason who carried _Mrs. 
 Tomlinson to a window, Mr. Hiram Jernigan who 
 took a seat with three old farmers at the fire-
 
 THE STRANGER 379 
 
 place, where the four sat, talked, and spit tobacco 
 over the hearth, and Eleanor and William Hunt- 
 ley, who moved to the nearest window. 
 
 "Don't mind me," said Huntley. "This is a 
 new spectacle for you, a large 'frolic' in the coun- 
 try, and I think you ought to indulge your 
 inclination to study it." 
 
 "You will explain anything I may not under- 
 stand?" asked Eleanor. 
 
 "With pleasure. That was my purpose in 
 remaining here by you." 
 
 Amid the din in the hall there suddenly rose 
 the sound of two violins and a triangle in lively 
 music. 
 
 "Perhaps I had best name the pieces as they 
 play them," said Huntley. 
 
 "Please do," said Eleanor, rather taken with the 
 melody. 
 
 "That's 'Billy in the Low-grounds.' " 
 
 "Forward four!" cried the leader of the music. 
 "Back to places!" "Ladies forward!" "Gents 
 forward!" "Hands round!" "Back to places!" 
 "Ladies change!" "Right in left, and back to 
 places!" "Sides forward!" And to the riddling 
 and triangle-jingle, in a lively time, went calls and 
 pattering feet. 
 
 There was an electric current that came from 
 the merry music, the stamp of feet dancing in 
 time, and the ripple of joyful voices that floated 
 in from the hall; so that Eleanor sat silent, lis- 
 tening, and observing the heads that appeared in 
 the hall above the shoulders of those who stood 
 in the door and looked. Huntley rested one of
 
 38o THE STRANGER 
 
 his arms on the window-sill, and looked out into 
 the darkness, saying not a word. 
 
 Presently the tune was changed; and then she 
 heard a voice singing the air, and she distin- 
 guished the words, "Don't mind how you shear 
 'em, so you shear 'em, so you shear 'em!" 
 
 "What is that, please?" cried Eleanor. 
 
 "Oh !" returned Huntley, laughing, "that is our 
 favorite dance-song 'Shear 'em' ; and Tony Sim- 
 kins, the darky leader of the orchestra, is giving 
 us the benefit of his voice. Hear the chorus of our 
 country boys !" 
 
 And sure enough, twenty or thirty young male 
 voices joined in the refrain, "So you shear 'em 
 so you shear 'em!" 
 
 "Fust lady to the right!" shouted the voice 
 that had led in "Shear 'em" "and coquette!" 
 
 Then followed the fiddles and the triangle and 
 the song, with occasional bursts of laughter. 
 
 "Why do they laugh?" asked Eleanor. 
 
 "The young lady makes as if she would turn 
 the gentleman she goes to, but after leading him 
 to extend his hands to her, goes back to her part- 
 ner, or another, and leaves the gentleman alone, 
 looking silly. Mr. Vaughn is usually the victim 
 in such cases, but sometimes Jenkins suffers a dis- 
 appointment." 
 
 Then came a brief cessation of music. After 
 that, when it commenced again, the same voice 
 led, in the words, "Jump on de ham-bone; bite 
 off de 'en. Oh, Mars John, don't you do dat 
 again !" 
 
 "What on earth is that?" cried the teacher. 
 
 Huntley laughed. "Oh," said he, "that is only
 
 THE STRANGER 381 
 
 another favorite dance-air, 'Ham-bone.' Tony, as 
 you perceive, is leading the vocalization of his 
 music." 
 
 And sure enough, a number of male voices 
 joined in the chorus, "Oh, Mars John, don't you 
 do dat again." 
 
 "It is very silly, no doubt," said Eleanor, 
 laughing; "but really I feel quite excited by this 
 performance." 
 
 "I have no doubt," returned Huntley. "It is a 
 curious kind of thing. If it suits you, we will look 
 at the next cotillion. You will see a good many 
 things to interest you. I did not suggest your 
 seeing this one, because well, it is rather hard 
 to express the idea but but I thought it would 
 be a new thing to you ; and you might 
 
 "You need not go further," said she, laughing. 
 "You thought I might be surprised into doing or 
 saying something that " 
 
 "You need not go further," interrupted he, 
 amused. "We understand each other. But you 
 will be prepared to witness the next one." 
 
 The riddles played "Come, haste to the wed- 
 ding," which the chef sang while ordering "all 
 hands round" ; and the dance was concluded amid 
 a loud stamping of feet and multitudinous excla- 
 mations of merriment. 
 
 Many of the dancers and of the lookers-on now 
 poured back into the parlor all of them wearing 
 smiles and heightened color, and most of them 
 perspiring profusely. Mr. Vaughn was among 
 the foremost, talking with animation, mopping 
 his face, and throwing back his long hair. 
 
 He pirouetted to Eleanor, crying, "Dear young
 
 382 THE STRANGER 
 
 lady! I have searched the house 'from turret to 
 foundation-stone' for you; and here I find you 
 no doubt, discussing philosophy with the gran- 
 ite-man, Huntley! William, dear boy, how goes 
 it with you ?" 
 
 "Don't expend your force in this way, Mark," 
 said Huntley. "Both Miss Field and I saw you 
 among the dancers fluttering, fidgetting, and, if I 
 may continue the alliteration, fooling, with all your 
 might." 
 
 "Well," returned Mr. Vaughn in a whisper, "we 
 have to do that sort of thing with the sweet, 
 sweet young maidens. But I never for a moment 
 forgot our clear lady here. And if the fair North- 
 ern flower will deign to walk through the next 
 quadrille with me, I shall be most happy unless 
 you have her engaged." 
 
 "I am not in your way," said Huntley. "I do 
 not dance, as I think you know." 
 
 The teacher could not refuse Mr. Vaughn's in- 
 vitation, and in a few minutes, when Mr. Tom 
 Jernigan called to the "gentlemen" to lead out 
 their "pardners," she went with him into the hall, 
 and engaged in a quadrille, to the tune of "Oh, 
 Miss Nancy, don't you cry!" and similar strains. 
 Then it was "Forward two!" "Ladies change!" 
 "Fours right in left!" "Swing corners!" "Sachez 
 all!" "Balance all!" "Hands roun' !" etc., etc., 
 while the riddles squealed, the triangle jingled, 
 Tony sang, feet stamped, men guffawed, girls gig- 
 gled, and old and young kept time. Mr. Vaughn 
 glided and tipped on his toes, Colonel Jenkins 
 marched and strutted and pulled his mustache, 
 "Sar' Ann" bobbed and bounced, the sixteen-
 
 THE STRANGER 383 
 
 year-olds tripped and whirled, Charley Tomlinson 
 rattled his heels and lifted the girls off the floor 
 when he turned them, old Colonel Tomlinson 
 swayed and patronized people, Miss Gibson 
 minced and sidled, Mrs. Lubeck jolted and 
 tumbled around all the dancers, twenty-four in 
 number, entered into the movement in their sev- 
 eral fashions. And so it went on for half an hour. 
 
 Marcus Aurelius Vaughn was the most conspic- 
 uous figure of all. He was always dancing, per- 
 forming many strange steps when his side were 
 properly in motion, and at other times rattling his 
 heels or turning on his toes. He was particularly 
 amusing when it came his turn, in "First gentle- 
 man to the right, and coquette!" He was ap- 
 parently dismayed when he found that, instead of 
 being allowed to choose whether he would "co- 
 quette" others, he was "coquetted" himself. At 
 first, when he offered to turn a lady, but found 
 her turning her own partner instead, he would 
 stop and sigh, "Cruel creature !" or "Unkind, un- 
 kind !" but after a few disappointments he aban- 
 doned all hope of the ladies he danced to, and 
 went to executing the most astonishing pas seuls 
 in the middle of the square ; and finally he refused 
 to face the ladies at all, but "sached" with his 
 back to them, and, with strange steps, turned im- 
 aginary partners in and around the center of the 
 open space. Old and young grew hilarious over 
 his antics. 
 
 There was one pretty occurrence in this dance. 
 When in "Ladies to the right, and coquette!" 
 Eleanor's pupil, Jennie Lane, a fifteen-year old 
 brunette, was going the round, Jennie "cp-
 
 384 THE STRANGER 
 
 quetted" Colonel Jenkins and misled three or four 
 others to whom she half offered her hands, and 
 tripped across to the teacher, and putting- her 
 arms around her, turned very deftly and grace- 
 fully, saying softly, as she did so, "You are the 
 handsomest and sweetest of all !" Everybody ap- 
 plauded, and Colonel Jenkins cried, "By George! 
 that is the most beautiful thing I ever witnessed." 
 
 The teacher was almost overcome by this dem- 
 onstration of affection ; but Mr. Vaughn restored 
 her composure by exclaiming, "I'm going to 
 marry that Jennie Lane as soon as she completes 
 her education!" 
 
 Of course, when Eleanor's tour of travel around 
 the square came she did not "coquette" any of 
 the gentlemen; and of course no one of them 
 "coquetted" her. On the contrary, every man to 
 whom she danced responded in his "best style, and 
 caught her hand and turned her cordially. When 
 she reached Jennie Lane's partner, in order to 
 show her appreciation of the girl's kind feeling, 
 she offered one hand to Jennie and the other to 
 Jennie's partner. He saw her meaning at once, 
 and bowed and smiled as the three, amid a general 
 clapping of hands, turned in the figure. 
 
 "By George!" she heard Colonel Jenkins say, 
 "there never were two handsomer things done in 
 the same evening, since the world began !" 
 
 Soon after the quadrille came supper, in the 
 large dining-room in a wing or "ell" of the main 
 dwelling. Here was a grand spread ham, beef, 
 mutton, roast pig, chickens, ducks, guinea fowls, 
 hash, eggs cooked in several ways, bread, rice, 
 hominy, cakes, ice cream, syllabub, pies, tarts,
 
 THE STRANGER 385 
 
 apple float, custards, "store candy," and some 
 confections quite new to the teacher and more 
 or less inviting. Some of the men were rather 
 boisterous in their speech, and not very thought- 
 ful of the comfort of others in their rush to pro- 
 cure food for their "pardners," as they generally 
 called the ladies they escorted. But every one 
 seemed to be in a good humor ; and even Colonel 
 Tomlinson, Huntley, and homicidal Colonel Jen- 
 kins suffered rough jostling and rougher joking 
 with equanimity. A very old, short, fat woman, 
 who carried a long staff, and spoke in a loud voice, 
 commanded Colonel Tomlinson to get her "some 
 supper," and he obeyed. Mr. Vaughn looked, 
 more or less, after everybody, flitting incessantly 
 from one point to another, addressing any one in 
 his shrill voice, and receiving all sorts of remarks 
 with serenity and cheerfulness. Once only he 
 returned a sharp answer. That was to a young 
 man who observed to him, "It 'pears like you 
 can't git about like you used to; must be gitt'n' 
 old." He retorted, so as to be heard at some 
 distance, "It's your eyes that are at fault, Jim 
 Tuggle, owing to the inferior quality of the whis- 
 key you brought with you to-night." To El- 
 eanor's surprise, the man laughed heartily, and 
 said, "Pretty good for you, Mark Vaughn !" 
 
 And after supper they had the "Old Virginia 
 Reel," in which thirty or more persons joined 
 with energy. And then, about one o'clock, the 
 guests departed, almost in a body, as if all under- 
 stood the reel to be the termination of the enter- 
 tainment. Eleanor rode home with Margaret, 
 25
 
 386 THE STRANGER 
 
 hearing all the way, the whoops of the exhilarated 
 horsemen, their loud laughter, and their more or 
 less successful efforts to sing "Dixie," "The Bon- 
 nie Blue Flag," "The Yellow Rose of Texas," and 
 snatches of some other music. One young man, 
 with a very thick tongue, was heard at intervals 
 droning the sad, dreary old song "Lorena." 
 
 While Margaret and Eleanor stood at the door 
 of Oak Hall awaiting admittance at the hands of 
 drowsy Jane, the singer last mentioned rode 
 alone and slowly past the gate, still laboring with 
 his song. He uttered with some distinctness the 
 words, "But there's a future, oh, thank God!" 
 
 "So there is, Mr. Ned Wilson," said Margaret. 
 "But you need not feel particularly thankful, for 
 it will bring you a terrible headache to-morrow 
 morning."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 The teacher spent the next day at Oak Hall, 
 and rode out with Margaret in the afternoon. The 
 highway was thronged with negroes as they went 
 and as they returned. "All those people go to 
 town on Saturday," Margaret said. And they 
 were heard till midnight, on their way to their 
 homes in the country, singing, whooping, laugh- 
 ing and talking, at the top of their voices. In the 
 evening Mr. Vaughn, Colonel Jenkins and Hunt- 
 ley came, and played whist and cribbage with 
 them. The Colonel, who had spent the night be- 
 fore and the day with Huntley, was in high spirits. 
 He spoke enthusiastically of the "party," and of 
 the wine and cold mutton he had enjoyed after it 
 at Huntley's. He also talked much, and pretty 
 well, about horses, though evidently irritating 
 Huntley by his comparison of Delta with his own 
 steed "Jeb Stuart," to the disparagement of the 
 former. He also ridiculed "Bucephalus," Mr. 
 Vaughn's saddle-horse. But that gentleman only 
 answered, "He suits me very well, Samuel," and 
 paid no further attention to the boaster. Other- 
 wise, the Colonel was quite agreeable, notwith- 
 standing his vanity. He never once referred to 
 the war or to politics ; and he spoke with fine 
 feeling of his four maiden sisters when Mrs. Ma- 
 son and Margaret inquired about them "the 
 girls," as he called them. Mr. Vaughn played 
 cards only while Mrs. Mason remained in the 
 room talking to Huntley. When she retired he
 
 388 THE STRANGER 
 
 gave his hand to the latter, and thenceforward 
 chattered, wandered about the room, hummed 
 tunes, practised dance steps, looked at books and 
 pictures, and was as contented as a well-reared 
 child engaged in such employment. 
 
 The next day, Sunday, the Episcopalians had 
 service in the Methodist church. There was a 
 pretty good organ there. Margaret and Eleanor, 
 expecting to lead the music, had practised some 
 chants and hymns the night before. One Mr. 
 Boiler, a merchant in Cherenden, came to sing 
 bass. Mr. Vaughn was expected to sing tenor; 
 Jennie Lane, contralto; Eleanor, soprano, and 
 Margaret Mason to play, and sing wherever and 
 whenever most needed. 
 
 There was a large congregation, among whom 
 were Colonel Tomlinson and his family, the An- 
 dersons, the Lubecks and the Cogburns. Mrs. 
 Haxwell came, bringing with her the awkward 
 Jake and pale little Minnie. Eleanor signaled to 
 the child to come to her; and pretty soon Minnie 
 was sitting close beside her in the choir. 
 
 William Huntley and Colonel Jenkins came in 
 together, and sat together the latter being quite 
 grand in his waxed mustache, his fluffed hair, and 
 his broad-shouldered frock. 
 
 Finally, Marcus Aurelius Vaughn teetered in, 
 tipping along on his toes, rapidly and lightly, ar- 
 rayed in white linen, and followed by a very black 
 boy similarly clad. 
 
 "Who are these?" whispered Eleanor to Mar- 
 garet. 
 
 "Mr. Vaughn and Toodles," answered the 
 other, uttering a sound like that of one choking.
 
 THE STRANGER 389 
 
 "What is Toodles?" inquired Eleanor, while 
 Jennie Lane grasped her arm in an agony of 
 amusement. 
 
 "Toodles is the negro boy who attends Mr. 
 Vaughn," replied Margaret. "You remember 
 the boy who was looking after Mr. Vaughn when 
 he was arrested." 
 
 "But how transformed!" exclaimed Eleanor. 
 
 "Well," whispered Margaret, "Toodles and his 
 'boss' are capable of infinite transformations as 
 you will learn when you come to know them 
 well." 
 
 Mr. Vaughn and Toodles now reached them; 
 and while the master fluttered and chattered, his 
 companion stood silent and staring. Directly 
 Margaret said to the boy: 
 
 "I am glad to see you, Toodles. You've come 
 here to help us, haven't you?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Marg'ret," answered he. "I'm hyer 
 to blow up de awgin." 
 
 "Very well," returned she gravely. "You know 
 how to handle the pump, and you'll do your duty. 
 I can count on you, Toodles." 
 
 "Unless he goes to sleep," suggested Jennie 
 Lane. 
 
 "Toodles is an old friend of mine," said Mar- 
 garet. "And when I'm at the organ, he'll never 
 desert me. Toodles will not let me break down." 
 
 "No, m'm!" protested the boy. "I'm gwine to 
 stand to you an' dis hyer awgin." 
 
 Margaret took her seat at the organ. At her 
 touch the instrument seemed to breathe a life of 
 its own. As she sat playing never looking at 
 notes, but with her eyes lifted and seeming to
 
 390 THE STRANGER 
 
 consider thoughts and strains far beyond mortal 
 composition or mortal expression Eleanor Field 
 felt a sense of awe. And when she glanced at the 
 somber face of Margaret Mason's kinsman, rest- 
 ing his head on his hand, and bent forward, she 
 wondered how he might ever become worthy of 
 the most beautiful and spiritual friend she had 
 ever known. 
 
 When the services began all went well enough 
 till they reached the reading of the Te Deum. 
 There Mr. Vaughn went wild. He read with the 
 minister, he read the wrong lines ; he was always 
 much too fast, or culpably too slow; and finally 
 when he got to the sentence, "When thou took- 
 est upon thee to deliver man, thou didst humble 
 thyself to be born of a virgin," he shrieked out, in 
 piercing tones, after the former part of the sen- 
 tence and after every other voice was still "to 
 be born of the Virgin Mary." The Rector paused, 
 and gazed over his glasses; Jennie Lane fell 
 against the teacher in spasmodic excitement; Mr. 
 Boiler groaned; Colonel Jenkins cleared his 
 throat, with much noise. There was a suppressed 
 ripple of laughter throughout the church. Only 
 two persons seemed to resist successfully the in- 
 clination to laugh. William Huntley pulled one 
 end of his mustache and kept his eyes on his 
 prayer-book. Margaret Mason never changed 
 countenance, but touched Jennie Lane with one 
 hand. Marcus Aurelius, however, never sus- 
 pected that he had done wrong, or given cause for 
 merriment, but stood, placid, smiling and expec- 
 tant, till the old minister resumed his reading.
 
 THE STRANGER 391 
 
 When the reading was concluded, Eleanor said to 
 Margaret : 
 
 "He is very hard to carry along!" 
 
 "A very heavy weight, as well as a very light 
 one," whispered Margaret, smiling.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 The work at school, notwithstanding the ever- 
 increasing sultriness of the weather and the slug- 
 gishness of the pupils, was satisfactory to the 
 teacher. It was out of school that time lay most 
 uncomfortably on her hands, for Eleanor felt that 
 she grew more weary and debilitated every day. 
 She lost her appetite, and her capacity for sleep, 
 and began to fear that she could not last to the 
 end of July, when the term was intended to close. 
 After that she was to have two months' vacation, 
 which promised a sufficient recuperation to sus- 
 tain her till cool weather came as she learned it 
 usually did by November. She toiled on, growing 
 more tired and unhappy every day, less interested 
 in her duties, less hopeful of the future, less recon- 
 ciled to her surroundings. 
 
 Mrs. Williams was as gentle and considerate as 
 ever, and the Squire was always courteous and at- 
 tentive to her, in his pompous and self-satisfied 
 style; and at least twice in every week Margaret 
 Mason either called to talk with her, or else took 
 her driving through the vast cloud of dust that 
 hung, more or less thick, over the parched land. 
 But these things occupied but a small portion of 
 the long, hot, breezeless, sweltering days, or of the 
 close, silent, pulseless nights. 
 
 At last the sultry, wearing July came to a close, 
 and with it the school term. Mr. Cogburn in- 
 sisted upon public commencement exercises, but 
 Colonel Tomlinson and Huntley objected; and
 
 THE STRANGER 393 
 
 consequently the teacher was spared an exertion 
 which, she felt, would have completely exhausted 
 her remaining strength. 
 
 She thought, for a time, before the vacation, 
 that she ought to go home for the two months, 
 but on calculating the expense, she concluded that 
 she could not afford to do so. It would cost 
 about thirty dollars each way and she could re- 
 main where she was for fifteen dollars per month. 
 It would be a dreary period, those two sultry 
 months of virtual solitude, but she had come here 
 to earn money, and to save it, and thirty dollars 
 additional outlay would leave her with an almost 
 empty purse at the reopening of the school. Be- 
 sides, she thought, she would be more likely to 
 gain favor and confidence among these people by 
 remaining with them than she should by leaving 
 them as soon as she ceased to receive their money. 
 
 She was not sanguine of success as to receiving 
 social recognition and personal sympathy. Her 
 nursing of sick pupils, and especially of Minnie 
 Haxwell, had led many to speak well of her ; Mar- 
 garet Mason's friendship had been an assurance of 
 her worth ; several of her pupils besides those she 
 cared for in sickness had evinced an attachment 
 to her; and there was no suggestion from any 
 one that she was lacking in any mental or moral 
 or social quality. Yet there remained the same 
 wall of ostracism shutting her off from the people 
 around her, and shutting her off almost as com- 
 pletely as it did on the day of her arrival in the 
 village. As has been stated, no one was aggres- 
 sive toward her. All the men, women, and chil- 
 dren in the place, with the exception of the
 
 394 THE STRANGER 
 
 Widow Hayblow and two unreasonable mothers, 
 who had withdrawn their children from the school 
 within a month after she began to teach, had been 
 civil to her whenever they chanced to meet her 
 or write her; and she had never heard a word 
 spoken against her personally. But there the 
 wall of ice stood, as thick, as cold, and as solid as 
 ever. 
 
 She had learned that the people of this section 
 were, in some respects, widely different from what 
 she had been taught to think of them. Instead of 
 a population "bright and fierce and fickle," as the 
 world as well as poets describe the races living in 
 or near the tropic zone, she found one slow of 
 thought, slow of speech, deliberate in action, and 
 tenacious of opinions, sentiments, and traditions 
 a people lacking in imagination, deficient in hu- 
 mor, with a small and undeveloped esthetic fac- 
 utly, and without nervous excitability. The men, 
 she saw, were exceedingly sensitive in all matters 
 involving personal courage, or personal verac- 
 ity, or personal honor, and the women ready to 
 resent any speech or action indicating disregard 
 of their dignity or respectability. But, with 
 those exceptions, both sexes were more steady 
 than bright, more resolute than daring, more ob- 
 stinate than active. And when she became ac- 
 quainted with their history she wondered why 
 she and those who had written of them had erred 
 so grossly in their conception of them; for she 
 found that these people were only the natural de- 
 scendants of the race that drove foot by foot be- 
 fore them the aborigines of the soil, just as her 
 forefathers had done in New England ; that in the
 
 THE STRANGER 395 
 
 war of the Revolution they had contested every 
 particle of territory, in a hundred battles of 
 greater or less importance, during the last three 
 years of that war, when their cause was desper- 
 ate; and that, in the war of secession, the Con- 
 federate soldiers had been worthy of their an- 
 cestors. 
 
 Eleanor also learned that as much praise as 
 they deserved for service in battle, the Confeder- 
 ate soldiers deserved more for their fortitude and 
 patience in enduring the hardships and trials of 
 the camp and the march, and learned that the 
 women of that section suffered bravely and stead- 
 ily all the toils, privations, and bereavements in- 
 cident to a contest waged by a people of small re- 
 sources and inferior numbers against one vastly 
 stronger in all things needed and employed in 
 warfare. 
 
 So the stranger appreciated, after a time, what 
 kind of people she had encountered; and having 
 such knowledge, she learned how to regard and 
 treat them. Nevertheless, she could not but feel 
 that they were unjust to her, and unreasonable, 
 in keeping her still under the ban, after trying 
 her for half a year and finding no fault in her. 
 
 The summer wore on with little change of fea- 
 ture, all the days being hot, and all the nights sul- 
 try, and none of either very different from an- 
 other, except that at one time there was parching 
 drought, at another a thunder-storm, at one time 
 a somewhat cooling breeze, at another no breeze 
 at all. The village was quiet during the day, and 
 almost deserted, except on Saturdays, when hun- 
 dreds of negroes poured in from the country, in
 
 396 THE STRANGER 
 
 wagons, on horseback or muleback, or on foot, 
 and stayed till late, some of them till midnight, 
 sauntering about the streets, gossiping, devour- 
 ing watermelons and such other food as they 
 could buy for money or on credit, standing in the 
 sun, sitting in the sun, and sometimes sleeping 
 in the sun. The women affected parasols and um- 
 brellas, but half the time they held those cover- 
 ings where they furnished no protection. Cindy 
 said that they carried those things "jis' 'cause it 
 looked like white folks." The nights were more 
 lively than the days. Then the negro, always a 
 nocturnal animal, straggled much about the 
 streets, whooped at the top of his voice, and 
 droned lugubrious melodies. Then the white youth 
 exercised their voices in the shrill yell which Con- 
 federate charges have made historic and the males 
 of each race fired pistols into the air, just to make 
 a noise. There was a good deal of "preaching" 
 in a negro church, about five hundred yards from 
 Squire Williams's, and it was accompanied with 
 much noise. First, there was singing, by the 
 whole congregation, which was very pleasant to 
 hear; then followed loud praying, which some- 
 times induced shouting; then came the sermon, 
 which grew constantly more animated, till the 
 parson bawled, and blew, and gasped, and his 
 hearers, especially the females, caught the infec- 
 tion of his zeal, and moaned, and stamped their 
 feet, and howled, and shrieked. And these un- 
 earthly sounds, with occasional intervals of com- 
 parative quiet or singing, were often continued 
 till past midnight. The men made little noise 
 audible at a distance; but many of the women,
 
 THE STRANGER 397 
 
 at almost every meeting, appeared to become pos- 
 itively frantic. They stamped, they clapped their 
 hands, they jumped up and down, they screamed. 
 Usually some of them concluded by "falling into a 
 trance," as they called it ; that is, into a cataleptic 
 state, in which they lay on the floor, and in which 
 they were sometimes carried home. The teacher 
 saw from her window, several times, as many as 
 three or four women carried along the street 
 while in that state or feigning it. It was said 
 to have become a habit with four or five of the 
 congregation. 
 
 Once, in the month of August, the negroes had 
 a "hot supper" in the church. That was a fearful 
 orgy. They did not dance or sing secular music 
 both of those things they considered unpardon- 
 ably sacrilegious. But they laughed and hallooed 
 so as to be heard for a mile or more, and finally 
 became involved in quarrels and strife. Many pis- 
 tol shots were fired, one negro was killed, three 
 more were wounded, two were carved with razors, 
 one was severely stabbed, and not a few were 
 severely beaten. When the man was killed there 
 was a regular stampede which sounded like the 
 roar of thunder, and Eleanor heard large numbers 
 of the crowd passing the Squire's house at a run. 
 Cindy showed on her cheek bone, the next day, 
 a swelling almost as large as a hen's egg, the 
 result of a blow received in the melee. She vowed 
 that that should be her last "hot supper" ; but in 
 a fortnight she went to another, and came home 
 with a badly torn gown, and less her bonnet and 
 handkerchief. 
 
 The experiences since the first of May had op-
 
 398 THE STRANGER 
 
 crated to quiet many lawless white men, and the 
 absence of others, in hiding or in self-imposed 
 exile, prevented them from violence. But occa- 
 sionally a negro was met on the highway and 
 beaten by masked or otherwise unrecognizable 
 men sometimes, it was thought, by negroes who 
 pretended to be Ku Klux, in order to wreak their 
 enmity on their fellows. A squad of soldiers went 
 to arrest a white man, supposed to be hidden in 
 a large body of woods. They found a dead negro 
 on the edge of the forest, but no white man in it. 
 
 The Democratic party of the United States, at 
 its convention in Baltimore, during this summer, 
 joined with "Liberal Republicans" in nominating 
 Horace Greeley for President, against General 
 Grant, the Republican nominee for a second term. 
 This action gave Eleanor Field much comfort and 
 hope, for it indicated a more kindly feeling in the 
 South toward the North, and offered an adjust- 
 ment of the differences between the two sections. 
 
 The teacher's relations with the people about 
 her were hardly, if at all, changed during the va- 
 cation. Margaret Mason visited her, and she vis- 
 ited Margaret, sometimes spending a day or two 
 at Oak Hall; but no other woman called on her, 
 and she was not invited to any other house. Min- 
 nie Haxwell's mother allowed her to visit Eleanor 
 once, for an hour. But her health improved, and 
 she passed much time pleasantly in reading the 
 books of the Squire, who had about two thou- 
 sand volumes, mostly law and text books, but 
 embracing a good many standard works of litera- 
 ture. Yet it was a dreary season, and she wel- 
 comed the month of October, which brought with 
 it the reopening of the school.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 Twenty-five scholars were present at the open- 
 ing, and within a fortnight three more came. 
 Seven of the total number were new ones. Sev- 
 eral of those who attended at the close of the 
 former term were kept at home to pick the cotton 
 crop, and were so occupied to the end of the year. 
 Of the others not returning, Miss Field received 
 no account. 
 
 The harvesting of corn and cotton, practically 
 the crops of the country, engaged both races so 
 constantly that neither indulged to any notable 
 extent in the misbehavior common among the 
 idle. There v/as some rioting at the county-seat 
 on the second Tuesday in November, the general 
 election day, where at least five-sixths of the ne- 
 groes of the county went to vote, though there 
 were twelve voting precincts in the county. The 
 garrison of Federal troops had to interpose to 
 keep the peace, and the civil authorities arrested 
 five of the black leaders; but no one was killed 
 or seriously injured. The Republican blacks 
 created the disturbance by assaulting some of the 
 few of their race who voted the Democratic 
 ticket, and the negro women near the polls urged 
 their friends to kill those whom they denounced 
 as traitors. But the whites defended their col- 
 ored adherents with fists and sticks, and by a dis- 
 play of pistols, but without firing a shot, until the 
 soldiers dispersed the rioters; and no one of 
 either race suffered anything worse than kicks and
 
 400 THE STRANGER 
 
 blows. Marcus Aurelius Vaughn had the mis- 
 fortune to have -his silk hat battered again, and 
 his toes trodden on, and Colonel Jenkins had the 
 skirt of his frock coat somewhat torn ; but there 
 were no other casualties among Eleanor's ac- 
 quaintances. 
 
 All the night before the election the roads re- 
 sounded with the songs, shouts, and pistol-firing 
 of negroes going to the county-seat to vote, and 
 equal or greater noise was made by them during 
 the following night as they returned home. 
 
 A few days later, in the afternoon, Cindy came 
 into Eleanor's room, tittering and fidgeting. 
 
 "Good evenin', Miss Ellen," said she. 
 
 "Good evening, Cindy," returned the teacher, 
 looking up from her book. 
 
 "You don't want no fresh water, does you. Miss 
 Ellen?" 
 
 "No, thank you. You brought me some half 
 an hour ago." 
 
 "An' don't you want no mo' wood? It might 
 git cold by mawnin'." 
 
 "I have quite enough, thank you." 
 
 "An* dar ain't nothin' mo' I kin do fur you ?" 
 
 Eleanor had learned the habit of negroes to 
 lead up gradually to whatever of moment thev 
 had in their minds ; so she laughed and said. "Go 
 on, Cindy, and tell me what it is that brought vou 
 here." 
 
 "I 'clar', Miss Ellen," cried the woman, gig- 
 gling, "you beats all fur comin' to de p'int right 
 away." 
 
 "You were going to say " suggested Eleanor.
 
 THE STRANGER 401 
 
 "Well, I jis' wanted to ax you ef you knowed 
 anything 'bout 'vo'ces." 
 
 "Voces? What are voces?" 
 
 "Them things what they gits when a man an' 
 a woman wants to sipirate." 
 
 "Do you mean divorces? When the court sep- 
 arates husband and wife?" 
 
 "Adzactly," returned Cindy, with satisfaction. 
 
 "I can't say I do." , 
 
 "Lord 'a mussy!" exclaimed Cindy. "I 
 thought you a-comin' frum de Nawth knowed 
 all about 'em." 
 
 "I don't see why," said the teacher, somewhat 
 irritated. 
 
 "I axes your parding," protested Cindy. "But 
 I hyeerd folks say as how they had a heap mo' of 
 that sorter thing up thar as we has down hyar." 
 
 "Cindy, I have never seen a divorce trial, I have 
 never read the account of one, I have never known 
 a man or woman who had been divorced, and if I 
 ever chanced to read 'a line on the law of divorce 
 I do not recollect it." 
 
 "Well, well, well!" murmured Cindy, discon- 
 certed. "I been thinkin' you could help me." 
 
 "But what's the matter?" asked Eleanor. "I 
 hope you are in no danger of being hurt by di- 
 vorce laws." 
 
 "L/ord bless you!" cried Cindy, laughing. "I 
 ain't gwine to be hu't by 'em. I was a-hopin' they 
 mought help me." 
 
 "Oh, Cindy!" 
 
 "Well, Miss Ellen," cried the woman, speaking 
 rapidly and loudly, "you see dar's my husban' 
 26
 
 402 THE STRANGER 
 
 Abram White, which I married him jis' atter de 
 wah, which I been livin' with Jim Mason down 
 tell freedom; but when freedom come, Jim gits 
 tired o' me, and I gits tired o' him, an' folks says 
 dar was no rale marryin' of niggers in slavery 
 times, an' Jim was goin' to see Mandy Tommleson 
 too much anyhow, an' so me an' him quit, an' I 
 got married in de chu'ch to Abram, which he was 
 a 'spectable man, what was wait'n' on Mr. Lu- 
 beck's sto', an' everything been gone well tell Ra- 
 chel Farlow come hyar, an' den Abram, he gone 
 'stracted 'bout dat yaller nigger, an' don't fetch 
 me no money nor nothin' to eat, an' I gits tired o' 
 washin' his clo'es an' savin' up victuals for him, 
 an' her doin' nothin' but sett'n' up in her house in 
 Mr. Cogburn's settlement, an' she's got lots o' 
 fine clo'es, an' sometimes I don't see Abram fur 
 a week or mo'. An' I ain't gwine to stan' it, an' 
 I'm gwine to git 'vo'ced fum him, ef I kin. Now 
 I done tole de whole noration!" 
 
 And then she set her hands on her hips and re- 
 garded the teacher, looking very angry, and 
 breathing loudly. 
 
 "You'd best consult Mr. Williams," said El- 
 eanor. "He's a lawyer, and can tell you what to 
 do." 
 
 "I done bin to him," cried Cindy. "An' he 
 won't have nothin' to do wid it. He don't b'lieve 
 in Vo'ces." 
 
 "Then go to some other lawyer." 
 
 "But dey all charges too much money. Some 
 cullud folks bin try it, an' dey ain't done payin' 
 yit. So mos' of 'em got to takin' de law in dey 
 own han's."
 
 THE STRANGER 403 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "Wy, jis' 'vo'cin' deyse'ves, an' gittin' married 
 ag'in." 
 
 "That's bigamy, and punishable as a crime, as 
 well as being a great sin." 
 
 "I dunno 'bout dat; but it's jis' what dey does 
 or wuss. I 'feared I got to do like de res'." 
 
 So she went away in a bad temper, and before 
 many days she described a great, black, greasy 
 man who was seen frequently in the yard as her 
 "man," who had taken the place of the unfaithful 
 Abram. 
 
 About the first of December the Ku Klux trials 
 began at the capital of the State, and the teacher 
 soon perceived their effect on the people of the 
 village, in their close undertone conferences on 
 the street, in their averted faces, and in their un- 
 gracious speech to her. Even the children at 
 school spent portions of the recesses in grave con- 
 versation, and they seemed to eye her with sus- 
 picion. A considerable number of men in the vil- 
 lage and county had been bound over to that term 
 of court, and several bills of indictment were pre- 
 ferred, and found by the grand jury. No one knew 
 when his case might be called, and it was expected 
 that no consideration would be shown when the 
 prosecuting attorney was ready to proceed. Con- 
 sequently, twenty or more of the accused went to 
 the capital of the State at the opening of the 
 court, each taking with him several witnesses and 
 his counsel. Probably a hundred men were there- 
 fore away from home, at no little expense and in- 
 convenience, for about a month. Colonel Jen-
 
 404 THE STRANGER 
 
 kins, Huntley, Vaughn and Tom Jernigan were 
 among the number. Squire Williams went also 
 and was gone nearly a month. About the same 
 number of negroes went, from first to last, but 
 they were never absent so long. A Republican 
 judge, very hostile to the native whites, and a dis- 
 trict attorney bent on convicting every defend- 
 ant, ran the business of the court. A few days 
 after the beginning of the term, a man living ten 
 or twelve miles from Cherenden was convicted of 
 severely whipping, in conjunction with five others, 
 at night, a negro in his neighborhood, the others 
 with him not being identified, and was sentenced 
 to two years' imprisonment in the penitentiary at 
 Albany, New York. The negro was a notorious 
 thief, idler, and disturber of the peace, and the 
 accused was a man of good reputation. 
 
 A week later, another, living on the other side 
 of the county, was tried for a similar offense, con- 
 victed and sentenced to a like term in the peni- 
 tentiary. He, it appeared, was the owner of a 
 pretty good property, but less peaceable in his 
 manner of life than the first. Squire Williams af- 
 terward said that in each case the testimonv (en- 
 tirely of negroes) was grossly insufficient, and 
 that what there was was very conflicting as to ma- 
 terial facts. These convictions caused a bitter 
 outcry at Cherenden, and the sentences were re- 
 garded as excessive and cruel. Two or three 
 days before Christmas the court took a recess, 
 with a good many cases still open on the docket, 
 so that the accused and their witnesses, who were 
 allowed to return to their homes, came weary and 
 angry. There were but two or three acquittals,
 
 THE STRANGER 405 
 
 and these against the most energetic protests of 
 the prosecuting attorney. He never nol-prossed 
 a case, and never consented to withhold a bill of 
 indictment, though he failed to present bills in a 
 number of cases. 
 
 The school, by direction of the trustees, was 
 given vacation from the Friday before Christ- 
 mas until the second Monday in January. On 
 Christmas day, Tuesday, there was a union service 
 of the several religious denominations in the vil- 
 lage, at the Methodist church. The house was 
 well filled, the singing was fair, and the exercises 
 interesting. There was no reference in the pray- 
 ers or short addresses of the ministers to the ex- 
 isting political situation; nor was there anything 
 said which might not reasonably be heard at the 
 teacher's own neighboring church in New Eng- 
 land. She feared at first that it might be other- 
 wise ; but when she recollected that she had never 
 heard a sermon in Cherenden on a political sub- 
 ject, or containing any direct mention of or a ref- 
 erence to politics or race issues themselves, or to 
 American history except as applicable to the 
 whole Union, she ventured to go to the service. 
 
 The sermon was delivered by a Baptist clergy- 
 man from another county an old man with a 
 benevolent face and a musical voice. He selected 
 for his text a portion of the sixth verse of the 
 ninth chapter of Isaiah ''For unto us a child is 
 born, unto us a son is given * * * and his 
 name shall be called * * * The Prince of 
 Peace." He referred to the universal peace 
 which reigned when the Saviour was born; how 
 meek and lowly the God-man was; how he in-
 
 406 THE STRANGER 
 
 veighed against strife between peoples and be- 
 tween persons; how he taught forbearance, for- 
 giveness and brotherly love. 
 
 He referred in brief terms to the unhappy dis- 
 sensions in this land between the men of the same 
 blood and professing the same faith, and quoted 
 the passage in the Epistle to the Ephesians where 
 St. Paul speaks of Christ breaking down "the 
 middle wall of partition" which had existed be- 
 tween Jews and Gentiles, preaching peace to 
 those that were nigh, and building them together 
 for a habitation of God in the Spirit. And he 
 closed with Timrod's verses: 
 
 " 'He who, till time shall cease, 
 Will watch the earth, where once, not all in vain, 
 He died to give us peace, may not disdain 
 
 A prayer whose theme is peace. 
 
 " 'Peace in the crowded town, 
 Peace in a thousand fields of waving grain, 
 Peace in the highway and the flowery lane, 
 
 Peace on the wind-swept down ! 
 
 " 'Peace on the whirring marts, 
 Peace where the scholar thinks, the hunter roams, 
 Peace, God of Peace ! Peace, peace, in all our homes, 
 
 And peace in all our hearts !' " 
 
 The bereaved old gentleman whom Eleanor so 
 often met on her way to school murmured a fer- 
 vent "amen," and several of the older men echoed 
 it. A brief hymn and the benediction concluded 
 the service; and then the large congregation left 
 the church slowly and silently. Margaret Mason 
 came to Eleanor at the door, and kissed her, say- 
 ing softly:
 
 THE STRANGER 407 
 
 "Oh, dear, you have been weeping, just as I 
 have." 
 
 "I was not aware of it," returned Eleanor, 
 "though I was greatly moved." 
 
 "He is a dear old man, that Mr. Armstrong," 
 said Margaret. "He is very poor and his health 
 feeble ; his good wife died only a year ago ; and 
 he is all alone, his three sons having been killed 
 in the Confederate service, and his one daughter 
 having moved with her husband to western Texas 
 a long time ago."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 During the holiday Eleanor received an invita- 
 tion to join her friend Agnes Meacham in a visit 
 of two or three days to the capital of the State; 
 and needing some articles of apparel which could 
 not be procured in Cherenden, she accepted, and 
 accompanied her there in the early days of Janu- 
 ary. 
 
 On the third day of their stay there Mrs. 
 Meacham proposed to go to the State legislature, 
 then in session, adding, "The Captain says it is a 
 disgusting menagerie of half-tamed barbarians 
 and thieves, and would hardly consent to my go- 
 ing to see them. But we needn't stay long; and 
 it is a sight, according to all accounts, that is to 
 be seen only in this section, and probably only 
 for a short time." So they went, escorted, very 
 reluctantly, by the Captain himself. 
 
 Their first glance, at the door of the House of 
 Representatives, revealed a fat, very black, very 
 loud-voiced negro in the Speaker's chair. His 
 principal business seemed to be to hammer the 
 desk vigorously with his mallet, and talk with a 
 clerk at his elbow. Yet he was not sparing of 
 his voice, for he bawled, "Mr. Snoddy," or "Mr. 
 Washington," or "Mr. Whetstone," as members 
 rose to speak, in a tone that made the hall ring; 
 and he had often to remind the multitude who 
 tried to speak that "Mr. Farmer," or "Mr. Bos- 
 tin," had the floor which he announced in a 
 roar, while banging the desk as if driving piles.
 
 THE STRANGER 409 
 
 Of a hundred or more men on the floor at least 
 three-fourths were negroes, the majority of whom 
 were pretty black. The teacher, by the accent 
 and pronunciation, at once recognized the ma- 
 jority of the whites who spoke as Northern men. 
 She heard only one Southern man speak, whose 
 views showed him to be a Democrat. She was 
 informed that there were only eight or ten such 
 in the body, the other native whites, some five 
 or six in number, being "scalawags" and 
 "wretched apologies for legislators," as Mrs. 
 Meacham said. The negroes were in their glory. 
 Often a dozen of them would spring to their feet 
 at the same moment, all of them bawling "Mr. 
 Speakah!" and some of them gesticulating 
 wildly. The galleries were nearly filled with mu- 
 latto women, some of them handsomely dressed, 
 most of them arrayed in peculiar and gaudy ap- 
 parel. The greater part of them kept up an in- 
 cessant chatter and laughter, accompanied by 
 much twisting and turning and flaunting of hand- 
 kerchiefs and parasols. Many of them exchanged 
 salutations and signals with the members of their 
 own race on the floor. The "carpet-baggers" ap- 
 parently had no taste for such social courtesies. 
 Quite a company of negro boy pages ran, and 
 darted, and skipped over the floor, answering the 
 snapping of fingers and whistles of members, or 
 doing their errands. Some of the negro members 
 were positively hideous, having very black skins, 
 narrow, sharp craniums, cunning, vicious eyes, 
 flat noses, excessively pugnacious faces, and dis- 
 gustingly thick, gross lips. These ugliest ones 
 spoke a dialect entirely new to the teacher.
 
 410 THE STRANGER 
 
 There was before the House a bill "to amend 
 an Act, entitled 'An Act for the protection and 
 preservation of useful animals' " that is, deer 
 and wild birds of various kinds. 
 
 The purpose of the amending Act was to per- 
 mit the killing of deer as early as the first day of 
 August, instead of the first day of September; 
 also to extend the open season for wild turkey, 
 "partridges" and other game birds, from the fif- 
 teenth of February, as it had been, to the fifteenth 
 of April; and thirdly, to deprive the "robin" of 
 the protection he had under the original Act. 
 One wide-mouthed, heavy-tongued mulatto op- 
 posed the bill with clamorous energy, especially in 
 behalf of the "lovely deer, which goes a-boundin' 
 over the glades and the heathers," and which, "in 
 olden times so numerous, is now almost depopu- 
 lated in Nawth Ca'loina, Sawth Ca'loina. an' 
 Jawjer," and inveighed, amid much applause, 
 against excluding from the immunity "impun- 
 ity," he called it enjoyed by mocking-birds and 
 others, the "Robin Red-breast, so much ventilated 
 in poetry and tales, the Robin Red-breast, the 
 visitor from the great Nawth, the land of emanci- 
 pation and cullud rights." 
 
 He had hardly closed, when, regardless of the 
 applause, a small, rusty member cf the Guinea 
 type sprang up like a Jack-in-the-box, and pro- 
 ceeded to advocate all the amendments. He was 
 almost unintelligible to the teacher; but Captain 
 and Mrs. Meacham, who had spent a year or more 
 in the seacoast region, interpreted to her. After 
 a bit, some member intimated that the member 
 had not studied the two bills.
 
 THE STRANGER 411 
 
 "De hon'able gemman say I enty study de bill," 
 cried he. "I let de gemman know I bin study 
 'em for true. I tek great pain to fin' out what 
 de dejection to de new law what come up. Gawd 
 a' mighty done set down de deer in dis country 
 fer kill an' eat; an' de up-countryman what never 
 eat wenson enty know how good he is. An' like- 
 wise de pattidge, an' de turkle dove, an' also de 
 robin. Wat mek we not kill an' eat all dem t'ing 
 all 'e year roun' ? If we gwine keep on dis way, 
 I 'spec' we git a law atter while what won't 'low 
 us to hunt 'possum an' raccoon!" And down he 
 dropped, amid murmurs from his delegation of 
 "Yes, Lord!" "Dat's a fac' !" 
 
 Mrs. Meacham was much amused, but Eleanor 
 Field was disgusted. So when the Captain, who 
 had been grumbling, proposed to quit the hall, 
 she seconded him so earnestly that her friend 
 yielded. But Mrs. Meacham insisted on taking 
 a look at the Senate Chamber, where, she said, 
 it would not be so bad. There they found a large 
 yellow man a mulatto presiding. The members 
 were, generally, of a lighter complexion than 
 those in the House. The Northern white men 
 seemed to be more numerous as well as the ruling 
 element. But there were some mulattoes, and 
 several black men. The teacher learned that there 
 were only four native whites, Democrats, in the 
 whole body. There were fewer colored women in 
 the galleries, and these made less demonstration than 
 the female spectators in the House. There were 
 no white women present besides the teacher and 
 her friend as had been the case in the House. 
 The business was of a very uninteresting kind.
 
 412 THE STRANGER 
 
 There was little said on the floor, and that al- 
 most entirely by white men. One large, raw- 
 boned, black negro made some point not plainly 
 heard by the visitors, and attempted to give it 
 force by reading, with considerable difficulty, 
 some lines of verse from a slip of paper, and ap- 
 plauded his own effort with a loud laugh; but the 
 others of his race spent most of their time 
 sprawled over their desks, and writing, or pre- 
 tending to write. The three spectators remained 
 but a few minutes. 
 
 "Well," said Captain Meacham to the teacher, 
 when they left the building, "what do you think 
 of the legislature?" 
 
 "It is a horrible travesty a hideous farce," an- 
 swered she. 
 
 "It is bad, very bad," said Mrs. Meacham. "But 
 it is so ludicrous to me, who have witnessed such 
 performances before, that I am amused when it is 
 before me." 
 
 "It is a shame," cried the Captain, "a vile 
 shame, that the Army should be employed to keep 
 those beasts and villains in power!" 
 
 "I recalled," said Eleanor, "again and again, 
 the words of Isabella on 'proud man, drest in a 
 little brief authority,' especially these 
 
 " 'Like an angry ape, 
 
 Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven 
 As make the angels weep.''" 
 
 "Yes," added the Captain, "you saw apes them- 
 selves perform this morning." 
 
 They walked some distance in silence. Finally 
 the Captain said gravely, "I'm not sure but I'd
 
 THE STRANGER 413 
 
 be a sort of Ku Klux myself if I were a citizen 
 of this State!" 
 
 "Fie! fie!" exclaimed his wife. 
 
 "Well," said he, "that is going too far, perhaps ; 
 but I tell you, no people can stand this sort of 
 thing; and the people won't stand it. The shame 
 of the situation is bad enough ; but that is not all, 
 nor the worst of it. The white people of this 
 State left its government a little more than four 
 years ago, when, after all its wars and other ex- 
 pensive experiences, there was a public debt of 
 about six million dollars. Now that debt is fif- 
 teen million dollars, or more ; and there is nothing 
 to show for it. Those villains impose ruinous 
 taxes, make no improvements, make a mockery of 
 justice, give no security or other benefit to the 
 people, live in luxury, sensuality, and every kind 
 of debauchery, and threaten the very foundations 
 of civilization. I expect them to put the finishing 
 touch to their robbery by repudiating the bonds 
 they have foisted on innocent purchasers here 
 and at the North. That measure is under discus- 
 sion now." 
 
 So it was. And at the next session of the leg- 
 islature an Act was passed funding all bonds and 
 stocks of the State at fifty per cent, of their face 
 value, including the old debts of upward of five 
 million dollars, which were, unquestionably, valid, 
 subsisting obligations of the State. 
 
 Eleanor was shown some handsome residences 
 in the same city, and several fine equipages on 
 the streets, owned by Republican politicians, some 
 white, some black who, four years before, had 
 been hardly better than paupers, and who had no
 
 4H THE STRANGER 
 
 trade, profession, craft, or other vocation, except 
 office-holding and political work. 
 
 She returned to Cherenden more reconciled 
 than she had been to the prejudices of the white 
 race there, and better fortified to endure her pain- 
 ful ostracism.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 The prosecution of persons charged with Ku 
 Klux outrages was resumed in the United States 
 court in January; and many under indictment re- 
 turned to the capital of the State, with their coun- 
 sel and witnesses, and remained there for a time. 
 But few cases were tried. Several of the accused, 
 after conviction, made confessions, evidently in 
 the hope of light sentences, and of subsequent 
 pardon. These confessions, confined to whipping 
 negroes, were disgusting, and sometimes horrify- 
 ing ; but they came from men in low ranks of life, 
 ignorant, and in great fear, so that they excited 
 little interest, and received little credit. The fact 
 that they implicated, many of the neighbors and 
 friends of the culprits deprived them of the merit 
 of repentance and purpose of amendment which 
 might otherwise have attached to them; for they 
 had the appearance of a readiness to sacrifice 
 others in order to secure better terms for those 
 who volunteered them. The court demonstrated 
 its small consideration for the confessing by im- 
 posing heavy sentences and omitting to hold out 
 any hope of pardon. The two convicts from the 
 county in which Cherenden lay declined to say 
 anything at all. 
 
 But the term was short, and soon after its ad- 
 journment it was generally understood that the 
 prosecutions were ended. All citizens attending 
 the court came home, and the tension of months 
 of anxiety and ill feeling was perceptibly relaxed.
 
 416 THE STRANGER 
 
 The teacher saw it in the faces of the children and 
 in the demeanor of the men and women of the 
 village, and deriving much satisfaction from it, 
 adopted, sometimes purposely, sometimes uncon- 
 sciously, a more cordial manner toward the people 
 than she had previously thought proper or wise, 
 and they, partly of their own motion, partly in re- 
 sponse, became more thoughtful and agreeable 
 in their manner toward her. By the beginning of 
 spring, scarcely a man met or passed her without 
 lifting his hat; women who had met her months 
 before, but never recognized her on the street, 
 bowed to her; the clerks in stores were more 
 prompt and courteous than formerlv, and the pu- 
 pils were about as respectful and diligent as could 
 be expected in any community. So, though not 
 entirely content with the present nor confident of 
 the future, she was far happier and more hopeful 
 than she had been since the day of her arrival in 
 the village. Her health grew better, and she per- 
 formed her work and lived her life with cheerful- 
 ness and considerable enjoyment. 
 
 On the first day of May there was a village 
 ball at the hotel, to which she was invited, and 
 went. The staid, old-fashioned community did 
 not tolerate round-dancing except among ladies; 
 but she was asked to dance every set in the coun- 
 try dances, in the lancers, and in the Virginia 
 reel. Colonel Jenkins, Mr. Vaughn, Mr. Boiler, 
 the merchant and basso, and to her utter amaze- 
 ment Colonel Tomlinson danced with her. A 
 young collegian, the son of Mr. Lubeck, who 
 was at home on short vacation, danced with her, 
 took her to supper, and did all he could to make
 
 THE STRANGER 417 
 
 himself agreeable. Two of Colonel Jenkins's 
 old-maid sisters left the wall to which they looked 
 to be positively glued; to be introduced to her. 
 Sarah Ann Jernigan had to kiss her, giving her a 
 loud smack which made Margaret Mason laugh 
 outright, and say, "Why, Sarah Ann, you are in 
 earnest." "Yes, Miss Margaret," returned the 
 other, blushing and laughing, "I always am in 
 yearnest." 
 
 Some days later, meeting Eleanor on the street, 
 Margaret said, "I told you so! You were the 
 favorite at the ball. Now you may feel perfectly 
 sure; for you have the vise of the Lubecks and 
 the imprimatur of Colonel Tomlinson." 
 
 "I should not have thought those credentials 
 as valuable as your friendship," returned Eleanor, 
 half in laughter and half in earnest. 
 
 "Yes, they are," said Margaret. "We are 
 pretty fair people we Masons and Huntleys 
 in the estimation of Cherenden; but those other 
 two families are at the head of their respec- 
 tive departments aristocracy and purse-proud 
 shoddyism." 
 
 At that moment Huntley joined them; and 
 Margaret said to him, "I have just reminded 
 Eleanor of the value of the favor of Colonel Tom- 
 linson and the Lubecks." 
 
 "And I said," cried Eleanor, "that the good 
 will of the families of Mason and Huntley is of 
 greater importance." 
 
 "She doesn't understand," pursued Margaret, 
 "that those specialists ought to be ranked above 
 us who have good blood, but do not make it our 
 27
 
 418 THE STRANGER 
 
 stock in trade, and have some property, but do 
 not serve, worship, and parade it." 
 
 "You are exactly right," said Huntley. "Blood 
 and money are two things that command respect 
 here, and the man who has and stands entirely 
 on either seems more important than one who 
 has both, yet has not more of either than every 
 one else, and does not devote himself to either. 
 Lubeck is the specialist, as you have called it, in 
 one line, Colonel Tomlinson in the other." 
 
 "But how?" inquired Eleanor. 
 
 "Well," said Huntley, "Lubeck has more money 
 than any other man or family in the county, and 
 no blood, breeding, or education. He is, there- 
 fore, fully the Plutus, or Mammon (if there was 
 ever a deity of that name), whom the crowd wor- 
 ship. And the Colonel is aristocracy pure and 
 simple." 
 
 "I know that Mr. Lubeck works and heaps up 
 riches," said Eleanor. "But what does Colonel 
 Tomlinson do?" 
 
 "II se pose" answered Huntley, and passed on. 
 
 About the middle of June, the Williamses gave 
 what Mr. Vaughn called a "tea-fight," evidently in 
 compliment to the teacher. Colonel Tomlinson 
 and his frail little wife were there. Colonel Jen- 
 kins brought his eldest sister, Miss Emeline, a tall, 
 yellow, prim, diffident lady of about forty years, 
 who said, "Yes, sir," and "Yes, ma'am," to others. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Cogburn came, the latter being a 
 stout woman with a large but withe'red face, re- 
 sembling an apple plucked before maturity. Mrs. 
 Mason and Margaret were present. So was Mr. 
 Vaughn, and also Mr. Boiler, the pleasant-spoken
 
 THE STRANGER 419 
 
 merchant. Htmtley sent word that they should not 
 wait for him, as he might not be able to come at all. 
 As it was, he arrived near the close of the meal, 
 and took only two or three "sweet wafers" and a 
 glass of milk. 
 
 Mrs. Cogburn, whom the teacher now met for 
 the first time, seemed to be a good-natured woman, 
 for she spoke very pleasantly, and repeated com- 
 pliments paid her teaching and manners by her 
 children and others. But she w r as inquisitive and 
 under-bred, and soon after tea went to discussing 
 the political situation, and probing the teacher. 
 Margaret endeavored to divert her, but she always 
 returned to the subject, which evidently weighed 
 on her mind. Colonel Jenkins, who, sanguinary as 
 he was in regard to warfare, was always careful 
 of the feelings of the company he was in, inter- 
 posed, saying, that "all sorts of things looked in 
 all sorts of ways to all sorts of people," and that 
 "it didn't matter what people thought, so they be- 
 haved well." For which last utterance he received 
 the approbation of Mr. Vaughn, who remarked, 
 "That is an eminently wise observation, Samuel." 
 Colonel Tomlinson was annoyed, and attempted to 
 draw off the lady by inquiries concerning her 
 daughter Laura's health ; but in vain. The sleuth 
 hound was on the trail, and she was set on follow- 
 ing it to the end. Finally, Huntley, whu had been 
 playing solitaire with cards, at the other side of the 
 parlor where they all sat, turned to Mrs. Cogburn, 
 and said : 
 
 "Mrs. Cogburn, you know John Stationer, don't 
 you?"
 
 420 THE STRANGER 
 
 "To be sure," answered she. "I've known John 
 for twenty years. What of him?" 
 
 "Well, Erasmus Harrison asked him the other 
 day what sort of a house he thought Dan Jones 
 had. John answered that he thought it a very good 
 one. Erasmus, who doesn't like Dan, was of a dif- 
 ferent opinion, and proceeded to describe the 
 kitchen, back piazza, and other things, in the rear 
 of the building. To which John responded by 
 saying that he could only judge from what he saw 
 the front. And this, which was the case with the 
 knights each of whom saw only one side of the 
 shield, determined John's mind, just as his critical 
 inspection of the rear of the house decided Eras- 
 mus's mind. Miss Field, until about eighteen 
 months ago, heard and read of only one side of this 
 political matter. I have no doubt that she has been 
 studying it, since she has been here, in another 
 light. She's been seeing the back door of our house 
 for, perhaps, ten years ; she ought to have a some- 
 what like period to observe the front part of it." 
 
 "She's been at the front door for nearly a year 
 and a half," cried Mrs. Cogburn, with a giggle ; 
 "for she's been knowing you, and Miss Margaret, 
 and Mrs. Mason, about that long." 
 
 "Thank you," returned Huntley. "But you 
 must remember that she never met Mrs. Cogburn 
 till a month ago, and saw her then only five min- 
 utes or so. I don't know that she has ever enjoyed 
 the benefit of even a moment's speech with Mrs. 
 Hayblow." 
 
 "You haven't seen the State legislature, have 
 you?" asked Mrs. Cogburn, presently, upon El- 
 eanor's referring to the negro as a ruler.
 
 THE STRANGER 421 
 
 "I have. I saw both houses in session, in Janu- 
 ary." 
 
 "And what did you think of it?" inquired the 
 other lady eagerly. 
 
 "I thought it the most disgusting and horrible 
 spectacle I ever witnessed." 
 
 "Why," interposed Margaret Mason, "she came 
 home almost sick from it." 
 
 "Aha!" ejaculated Mrs. Cogburn; and then she 
 seemed to fall into deep reflection. 
 
 "One or the other of the races must rule," re- 
 marked Huntley. 
 
 "And there can be no doubt as to which will ulti- 
 mately rule," said Colonel Jenkins, with a confi- 
 dent air. 
 
 "None whatever," said Huntley. "The change 
 may not come for several years; but this riotous 
 plundering and debauchery, these tumultuous elec- 
 tions, this filling of great public offices with thieves, 
 drunkards, dunces and ruffians, restrained only by 
 a sense of personal danger, must come to an end 
 before long. We cannot stop vagrancy and private 
 vice; but we shall show that we can govern in 
 public affairs." 
 
 "The negro will be protected in his person and 
 property," suggested Eleanor. 
 
 "Certainly," said Huntley. "I have never heard 
 a man say, or propose, anything to the contrary. 
 Moreover, our people will continue to provide for 
 his education. How much benefit he will derive 
 from the effort in that way I cannot undertake to 
 say. But it will be prosecuted. Our own selfish- 
 ness makes us desire intelligent citizens, of all races, 
 and in all employment."
 
 422 THE STRANGER 
 
 "What about religious training?" asked Mrs. 
 Cogburn. 
 
 "Well," said Huntley, laughing, "that is a mat- 
 ter which I have not considered. You'd best in- 
 quire of Aunt Caroline and Margaret. They have 
 given much more thought to it than I have. But 
 we shall have little opportunity in that way, I sup- 
 pose. About the first thing those people did was to 
 withdraw from our churches, to have their own 
 churches, and their own preachers. I imagine they 
 would hardly listen to our missionaries. I don't 
 blame them. The two races could not be on equal- 
 ity in the churches. It seems best that they should 
 be separated all along the line, except as they may 
 be thrown together in trade or work or other mat- 
 ters of mere business. They must move on parallel 
 lines. There cannot be a dual government, and 
 therefore they must be excluded from the manage- 
 ment of governmental affairs, and, in my judgment, 
 from any participation in government legislative, 
 judicial or executive. That is about our situation 
 and our duty, as I see them. The negro must be 
 protected in his person, and he must be fairly dealt 
 with. Indeed, I and almost all our people think 
 that many of his faults and of his offenses deserve 
 more lenient treatment than we accord to the same 
 things in white men. But in the matter of govern- 
 ing this land, we must, till we get control, carry 
 on a struggle a entrance not of extermination, not 
 of persecution, but certainly of persistent and reso- 
 lute action." 
 
 "I thought the phrase was a I'outrance," cried out 
 Mr. Vaughn, while every one else laughed. 
 
 "And so a good many people think," answered
 
 "THE STRANGER 
 
 Huntley, good-naturedly. "Even Prescott, scholar 
 that he was, employed that form several times in 
 his 'Conquest of Mexico.' '' 
 
 "Miss Field," said Colonel Jenkins, "have you 
 ever witnessed a negro parade?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, I want you to see one. The Fourth of 
 July is the great occasion with them. In the cities 
 the first of January Emancipation Day is cele- 
 brated with great zest, by great numbers of them. 
 But in this part of the State the Fourth of July 
 is the big thing. Then the weather is hot, and usu- 
 ally dry, and watermelons are in, and the day is 
 long, so they can have an extensive frolic. I ad- 
 vise you, if you can leave your school, to go to the 
 county-seat that day, and see the performance." 
 
 "I agree with Colonel Jenkins," said Huntley. 
 "It is a sight well worth seeing such a one as you 
 can never see except in the South. The school, on 
 account of the crowds of turbulent negroes in town, 
 is always closed that day." 
 
 On making a calculation it was ascertained that 
 the day would be on Friday, so that, if the teacher 
 wished, she could go to town by rail the after- 
 noon before, or early that morning, and return late 
 in the evening, or the following day. Wishing to 
 see her friend Agnes Meacham, and also to do 
 some shopping, she acceded to the suggestion, in 
 which all the party joined.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 Eleanor went to the county-seat in the afternoon 
 of Thursday, the third day of July, and took lodg- 
 ing at the hotel with the Meachams. The building 
 stood facing the "public square" of the town an 
 area of about three acres, including the streets 
 crossing it, and occupied only by the court- 
 house, which stood near the center. Mrs. Meach- 
 am's sitting-room was at the front of the hotel, on 
 the second floor. The exercises of the next day 
 were expected to be held principally in the "square." 
 
 Before sunrise, the sounds of many voices and 
 feet were heard; and when the teacher looked 
 through the window-shutters of her chamber, at 
 six o'clock, she saw several hundred men, women, 
 and children walking or standing in the square, or 
 sitting at the doors and on the steps of the court- 
 house. When she and Mrs. Meacham returned 
 from breakfast a few minutes after seven, the 
 crowd had grown to two or three thousand, and as 
 far as they could see along the streets streams of 
 negroes were still slowly flowing in. Most of these 
 were on foot, though a good many rode gaunt mules 
 or horses; and not a few wagons, filled to their ut- 
 most capacity, drove into the open space and dis- 
 charged their occupants. These wagons and the 
 horses and mules seemed, under some order or ar- 
 rangement, to be carried out of the square no 
 doubt for the purpose of allowing sufficient room 
 for the great concourse of people expected. By 
 nine o'clock there were on the square, according
 
 THE STRANGER 425 
 
 to Captain Meacham's estimate, at least five thou- 
 sand persons. At that time negroes on horseback, 
 with great yellow and crimson sashes, swords, 
 cockades, ribbons, and other insignia of office, ar- 
 rived on the ground, and became very busy, riding 
 through the dense masses, and evidently arranging 
 for some movement. The Captain now left the ho- 
 tel, to go to barracks, saying that there was no tell- 
 ing how soon or in what way he and his soldiers 
 might be needed. 
 
 Some of the negro men, mostly the younger ones, 
 were pretty smartly dressed, their white collars and 
 shirt-bosoms contrasting strongly with their black 
 faces. But a good many of them were in their 
 rough, work-day garb, some of them being without 
 coats. A great many of the boys were barefoot, and 
 some of them very uncleanly, and even ragged. But 
 the women were evidently arrayed in all their finery. 
 Their hats for none of them except a few old 
 ones wore bonnets, and they sun-bonnets were 
 gaudily and excessively bedecked with large red 
 and yellow and blue flowers, and with much ribbon 
 of the same colors. And their gowns were largely 
 of the same strong hues, many of them being of 
 blazing red, and glaring yellow, or bright purple, 
 and being in solid colors, or else in very large 
 figures which reminded the teacher of the "furni- 
 ture calicoes" she had seen in ancient window- 
 curtains and in the curtains of the old-time "four- 
 poster" bedsteads. And these women flaunted 
 their highly tinted parasols incessantly, and were 
 never still or silent. They waved parasols vigor- 
 ously and spoke loudly when a large brown man 
 whom they called "Colonel Duggins" rode among
 
 them, just in front of the hotel, on a handsome 
 brown horse, in all the glory of a red silk sash and 
 a hat looped on one side with a huge red-white-and- 
 blue cockade, and handling a drawn cavalry saber. 
 The "Colonel" was soon followed by a corpulent, 
 ginger-bread complexioned man, with an apoplectic 
 expression of face, who held a good deal to the 
 pommel of his saddle. 
 
 "Who is that, Maria?" asked Mrs. Meacham of 
 the chambermaid, who had suspended her dusting 
 to inspect the crowd from another window. 
 
 "Oh, that's Major Gales." 
 
 "The Major doesn't seem to sit comfortably in 
 his saddle," remarked Mrs. Meacham. 
 
 "No'm," answered Maria, tittering, "he ain't no 
 fine rider, nohow; an' he's been drinkin' too much 
 liquor." 
 
 Presently, amid a great fluttering of parasols, 
 crowding forward, tiptoeing, laughter and chatter, 
 there passed a young, coal-black, sleek-skinned man, 
 with a cocked hat, a great white plume, and much 
 crimson sash, and a pair of enormous epaulettes. 
 
 "Who on earth is that?" inquired Mrs. Meach- 
 am. 
 
 "Law, ma'am," said Maria, "that's Colonel Skin- 
 ner. He's de fines' dress', an' de fines' rider of all. 
 Look at dat hoss!" 
 
 And sure enough, the sorrel steed of that "Col- 
 onel" curvetted and caracoled in great style. 
 
 "Colonels seem to be plentiful," observed Mrs. 
 Meacham. 
 
 "Well," returned Maria, "dar ain't but one full 
 colonel, which dat is Colonel Duggins. Dis here 
 one is only a nientenant-colontl, which he is de
 
 THE STRANGER 427 
 
 Guv'ner's aid; an' dat how he wear de epperlits 
 representin' de Guv'ner, you see." 
 
 And several more "majors" and "captains" and 
 "nieutenants" passed through the crowd, all of them 
 endeavoring to open a way for something following 
 them. This something was soon shown to be a 
 band, consisting of two fifers, a clarionet blower, 
 two kettle-drummers and one bass-drummer, all of 
 whom made as much noise as possible. The man 
 with the bass-drum was affected very much as 
 "Major Gales" was, which caused his drum-stick 
 to miss the head of the drum very often ; but he 
 always hit something, and hit vigorously, so that 
 when he struck straight the volume of sound made 
 up for many misses. The crowd generally fell in 
 behind the band in a column of fifteen or twenty 
 broad, and followed it out of the square. 
 
 "Well," said Eleanor, "is it all over?" 
 
 "No, indeed, mum," answered Maria. "Dey jis' 
 takin' 'em out'en de squar, fer to fawm de perces- 
 sion. Den dey'll come back, a-marchin' 'long atter 
 de ban' an' have lots o' speakin' on de cou't-house 
 steps." 
 
 It was not long before the band reappeared on the 
 opposite side of the square, with shrill fifing and 
 energetic drum-beating, and followed by the officer- 
 horsemen and a street full of men, women, and 
 children on foot, marching in time with the music. 
 After much pushing and bawling by the officers, 
 the band made its way up the court-house steps, 
 and took position in the portico above the crowd. 
 Among those who followed were a few white men. 
 These and the majority of the be-sashed officers
 
 428 THE STRANGER 
 
 were seated on chairs arranged in the middle of the 
 portico. 
 
 After more blowing and beating by the band, the 
 speaking began. The speakers being in front of 
 the hotel, and not more than fifty or sixty yards 
 distant, and the crowd very attentive, the two la- 
 dies heard distinctly. The first one who spoke a 
 white man with decided Eastern accent and man- 
 ner talked in what is commonly called the "fourth- 
 of-July" style, relating the revolt of the thirteen 
 colonies, the achievement of their independence, the 
 subsequent history of the United States, including 
 the war of secession ("the rebellion," as he called 
 it), the emancipation of the slaves, and the "recon- 
 struction" of the South. He contented himself with 
 generalities, and his concluding advice to his audi- 
 ence was to prove by their course of action and 
 manner of living that they deserved their freedom, 
 and could be safely trusted in their use of it. He 
 received only moderate applause, and it was evi- 
 dent that his speech had not a high enough flavor 
 for that crowd. 
 
 After a little fifing and drumming, he was fol- 
 lowed by a yellow negro who excited much more 
 feeling, as was manifested by repeated cries of 
 "Tell it!" "Tell it agin!" "Dat's so!" "Bless God, 
 dat's de troof !" and by loud and prolonged yells. 
 This man told them to vote the Republican ticket 
 every time; to fight the Democratic party with all 
 their might ; to ostracise any of their race who voted 
 with the Democrats, by turning them out of their 
 churches and refusing to associate with them or 
 help them; to stand up for their rights, and to 
 fight for them; to beware of Confederate soldiers,
 
 THE STRANGER 429 
 
 who wanted to put them back into slavery; and 
 finally, to destroy the Ku Klux whenever and wher- 
 ever they found them. He concluded by saying 
 that it was far better to die freemen than live as 
 slaves, and proclaimed, with a tremendous exertion 
 of voice, "Give me liberty, or give me death !" The 
 vast crowd yelled, and shouted, and roared. They 
 cried out many things, in which "God" and the 
 name of the speaker were most frequent and most 
 distinct. They laughed, they danced, they beat one 
 another's shoulders and pulled one another's arms. 
 So, with the noises of the people and those of the 
 band, there was an awful din, which lasted for five 
 or six minutes. 
 
 The third speaker, who looked to be a white man, 
 but who, Maria said, was "a nigger same as me," 
 pursued pretty much the line of thought and sugges- 
 tion employed by the second, adding, however, very 
 disgusting references to the conduct of many white 
 men toward negro women, and saying that if any 
 white man should "tamper with his pretty little wife" 
 he would "shoot him down like a dog!" This utter- 
 ance elicited a storm of howls from the men and 
 wild cries from the women, accompanied by violent 
 gesticulation by both sexes. 
 
 After that speech, and a selection by the band, 
 the master of ceremonies introduced the fourth and 
 last speaker. This was a thin, rather small, angu- 
 lar white man, with so poor a voice that his first 
 two or three sentences were not audible at the hotel. 
 
 "I have seen that man here several times," said 
 Mrs. Meacham. "He comes pretty often to talk 
 with the Captain, who doesn't like him. His name
 
 430 THE STRANGER 
 
 is Agnew, or Carew, or something like that. We 
 are told that before the war he was a negro-trader." 
 
 "What was that?" asked Eleanor. "I thought 
 that almost all men here bought and sold slaves." 
 
 "Yes," answered Mrs. Meacham; "but there 
 were a few men who made it a business to buy 
 slaves and sell them, carrying them mostly to the 
 Southwest, where they commanded higher prices 
 than in these older States. Such was this man's 
 chief business, if not his only one." 
 
 "Yet these negroes favor such a man?" 
 
 "Yes ; they are ready to condone any man's past, 
 provided only he opposes the Democratic party of 
 the United States and the white Democrats of the 
 South, and preaches opposition to the whites and 
 unlimited rule by the blacks and their allies." 
 
 The speaker was heard in silence for a time. 
 Gradually his voice grew strong enough to reach, 
 in that silence, to the distance of a hundred yards. 
 As he grew warm his audience caught his fervor, 
 and expressed their appreciation by the usual cries 
 of "Tell it!" "Yes, Lord!" "Give it to 'em!" and 
 the like. 
 
 He dwelt on the riches of the whites and the pov- 
 erty of the blacks ; the idleness and easy living of the 
 former, and the hard work done by the latter ; the 
 danger of the reestablishment of slavery, the op- 
 pressions and persecutions suffered by the negro, 
 and finally the horrors perpetrated by the Ku Klux 
 Klan, to which, he asserted, all grown white men 
 and a great many white boys belonged. At every 
 step in his progress the enthusiasm of his hearers 
 increased; so that, after a time, there were cries 
 of rage and threatening mingled with their ap-
 
 THE STRANGER 431 
 
 proval of the speaker's words. There was none of 
 the laughter with which other men's periods had 
 been greeted, but all expressions were in earnest, 
 in a tone of wrath, and often combined with oaths. 
 And the crowd moved and swayed, evidently 
 wrought to the highest pitch of excitement. 
 
 In conclusion, the speaker, raising his voice to 
 its utmost capacity, and delivering his words delib- 
 erately and with all the incisiveness he could com- 
 mand, cried : 
 
 "There is no other way for you out of this hell 
 of robbery and persecution and murder. You have 
 got to fight these white Democrats all the time, 
 everywhere you meet 'em, and in everything. 
 You've got to fight 'em at the polls ; you've got to 
 fight 'em in the courts; you've got to fight 'em in 
 the legislature ; you've got to fight 'em in every kind 
 of business, and every day and every hour of your 
 life. You've got to fight 'em with your votes, and if 
 need be, with your fists, and your clubs, and your 
 guns, and your pistols. And when all other 
 weapons fail, remember, remember, remember!" 
 here he paused for some moments, amid unbroken 
 silence, and then shouted "Matches cost only 
 five cents a box I" 
 
 The diabolical suggestion conveyed in these last 
 words appeared to be the climax desired by the au- 
 dience. For two seconds, and until the speaker had 
 resumed his seat, there was universal, dead silence. 
 Then, as if all the multitude apprehended the force 
 of the words at the same instant, there arose an up- 
 roar compared with which all former demonstra- 
 tions seemed tame. Full five thousand voices broke 
 forth in yells, howls, curses, boasts, threats and
 
 432 THE STRANGER 
 
 shrieks, the exclamations of women and the shrill 
 cries of children often prevailing over the deeper 
 tones of the men. The men pushed and slapped 
 one another, and the women waved and brandished 
 and clashed their parasols till many of them were 
 broken to pieces. Hats were flung into the air, 
 sticks were flourished high, and guns and pistols 
 freely displayed. Hundreds, of every age, and of 
 each sex, jumped up and down, clapping their 
 hands and shaking frantically whatever they held. 
 Many of the crowd declared their feeling in plain 
 terms: "Set 'em on fire!" "Burn dey houses to de 
 groun' !" "Burn 'em all up !" And when the ex- 
 citement was at its height, a powerful male voice 
 started the strain of "John Brown's Body." At 
 once a thousand voices joined in, and roared the 
 song till the surrounding buildings trembled, while 
 the multitude kept time with foot and hand, stamp- 
 ing the earth and waving and clashing their sticks, 
 umbrellas, pistols, rifles, shotguns, and whatever 
 else might make noise or display. This pande- 
 monium, heightened by the screaming of fifes and 
 banging of drums, and beating of clubs or stones on 
 the walls and doors of the court-house, lasted for 
 fully fifteen minutes. Meantime, small groups of 
 white citizens stood at intervals on the sidewalks, 
 and surveyed the scene in silence. 
 
 Eleanor was amazed and sickened. Before the 
 tumult subsided, she left the window and took a 
 seat where she could not see the mob. 
 
 "You are very pale," said her friend. "Are you 
 ill?" 
 
 "I am sick at heart," she answered. "Wha.t is 
 to become of these barbarians?"
 
 THE STRANGER 433 
 
 There were, however, no actual collisions between 
 blacks and whites, and no fighting among the blacks. 
 When the uproar had lasted several minutes, a por- 
 tion of the garrison, under the command of a lieu- 
 tenant, were marched into the square on the side 
 opposite the hotel, and there stacked arms on the 
 sidewalk. What effect this had on the crowd could 
 only be conjectured; but after that, the noise was 
 not nearly so great as it had been, and before long 
 the multitude began to disperse, a good many going 
 one way, to a barbecue on the border of the town, 
 and a good many more moving off in other direc- 
 tions. A considerable number, however, remained 
 on the square when Eleanor went to the afternoon 
 train to Cherenden. There were very few negroes 
 on the train, and they were quiet enough ; for there 
 were more white men than negroes there. 
 
 She afterward learned that the meeting resulted 
 in comparatively little violence. One drunken negro, 
 it was reported, misinterpreting the presence of the 
 soldiers on the ground, undertook to jostle a white 
 man off the sidewalk, and suffered, for his temer- 
 ity, a knock-down by the white man and some kicks 
 by the soldiers. There were several heads of ne- 
 groes more or less broken, at the barbecue, by other 
 negroes; but those casualties were the results of 
 attempts to get dinners without paying for them. 
 
 Until long after midnight the streets of Cheren- 
 den resounded with the songs, shouts and pistol- 
 firing of negroes returning home from the meeting 
 at the county-seat. 
 
 28
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 Eleanor Field felt far more satisfied at the close of 
 this school term than she had been the year before. 
 The pupils had made much better progress, and 
 appeared to be more contented and cheerful. She 
 heard no complaints from the patrons, and received 
 complimentary acknowledgments from several of 
 them. Her health was now very good ; and the 
 future seemed brighter than ever before. She was 
 invited, during the month of July, to dine at two 
 houses Dr. Thompson's and Mr. Cogburn's. To 
 her amazement, Mrs. Lubeck had her take tea at her 
 handsome, pretentious residence, and was quite cor- 
 dial and well-behaved to her. Women as well as 
 men bowed to her on the streets, once or twice 
 women made room for her to sit with them at 
 church. She was invited once to sing in the choir 
 of the Presbyterian church, and once in that of the 
 Methodist church, and each time was complimented 
 and thanked by the choir, and by other persons. 
 Haughty and fastidious Mrs. Lubeck, who had 
 once been in New York for a week, was so gracious 
 as to say that, except in that city, she had never 
 heard a finer soprano voice than the teacher's, and 
 the young ladies of the village evinced no jealousy 
 of the stranger. Colonel Jenkins seemed to de- 
 scribe his people pretty accurately when he said, 
 "When we hate people we hate 'em like fury, and 
 when we like 'em we like 'em all to pieces." Per- 
 haps it would require considerable prudence, a thor- 
 oughly modest bearing, and no little tact to retain
 
 THE STRANGER 435 
 
 the good will she had at last secured; but the 
 teacher was fully aware of the uncertainty of her 
 position, and resolved to guard herself against 
 over-confidence and the least indiscretion. Her 
 long and painful probation was of much service in 
 enabling her to reach this conviction, and also to 
 act upon it. 
 
 So she looked forward with much more cheer- 
 fulness to spending a second summer here than she 
 had felt in regard to the first one. Then she 
 thought that she was condemning herself to most 
 weary and dreary exile from all who loved her and 
 all who allowed her to love them ; now she had the 
 pleasure of believing that she would be among 
 friends. 
 
 But the holidays had hardly begun when she was 
 invited to a recreation she had never expected or 
 thought of. Margaret Mason came to her one 
 morning, in quite a state of excitement. They had 
 barely exchanged salutations, when she cried : 
 
 "I've come to tell you that, after consultation 
 and mature deliberation, mamma, William, Colonel 
 Jenkins, Mr. Vaughn, and I have decided to take a 
 trip, and unanimously, first, last and all the time, 
 voted that you must join us." 
 
 "Dear me !" exclaimed the teacher, laughing. "A 
 picnic, or a fishing party?" 
 
 "Oh ! a much bigger thing than either of those. 
 Just listen for a minute, and I'll disclose the whole 
 plan. We are to go to the mountains, for two or 
 three weeks perhaps for a month. We shall travel, 
 by our own conveyances mamma and I take our 
 carriage and one-horse buggy. We and William 
 together will have a four-horse wagon to carry our
 
 436 THE STRANGER 
 
 tents, trunks, and other impedimenta, as William 
 calls those things. The three gentlemen will travel 
 on horseback. We shall have Jane, our coachman 
 John, William's man Josh, and Colonel Jenkins's 
 man Cyrus, for grooms and servants. Mr. Vaughn 
 will, of course, take Toodles. We shall send the 
 vehicles and the gentlemen ahead of us, by the road. 
 We are going about a hundred miles by rail, to the 
 foot of the mountains, where we all shall meet, and 
 then all travel by horse power." 
 
 "And what is the principal point in the journey?" 
 "We, so far, have fixed no exact line of travel, 
 leaving that to be determined by circumstances ; 
 but we expect to visit Toccoa and Tallulah Palls. 
 I may say that Tallulah is the main point, as we 
 shall have there the finest scenery, and can spend 
 a longer time there, and in more comfort, than else- 
 where." 
 
 "And tents you expect to camp out?" 
 "To be sure sometimes. That will be a large 
 part of the fun of the trip. Now you are going, 
 of course." 
 
 "Of course I will!" answered Eleanor, heartily. 
 "I'm not so sure about the camping out, for I have 
 no experience of that sort of life ; but I am willing 
 to risk anything with you and your mother." 
 
 "That's a dear !" cried Margaret, laughing gaily. 
 "I knew you could not refuse me." 
 "And when do you propose to start?" 
 "The baggage-train and its escort are to set out 
 a week from to-day. We three and Jane will go 
 on the fourth day thereafter. We shall reach the 
 place of rendezvous the same day." 
 And at the time appointed the three ladies found
 
 THE STRANGER 437 
 
 the gentlemen and the conveyances, with the ser- 
 vants, awaiting their arrival at the railway station 
 whence all were to start into the mountains. They 
 moved on within an hour, and at dusk had traveled 
 about ten miles. This brought them in full view 
 of the Blue Ridge, at an elevation considerably 
 above that of Cherenden, and into a cool and brac- 
 ing atmosphere. Eleanor rode with Margaret in the 
 buggy, Margaret driving most of the time. Mrs. 
 Mason and jane occupied the carriage. John drove 
 the carriage, Josh, riding the near wheeler, man- 
 aged the four-mule team of the wagon, and Cyrus 
 rode in the wagon. The three gentlemen rode their 
 horses, Huntley riding Delta, Colonel Jenkins his 
 high-stepping jeb Stuart, and Mr. Vaughn his Bu- 
 cephalus. Toodles varied his mode of travel, riding 
 sometimes behind his master, sometimes in the wa- 
 gon, but mostly on the box of the carriage beside 
 John. 
 
 That night the gentlemen and the male servants 
 pitched two tents near a farmer's house, cooked 
 their own supper, and slept there. 
 
 Pressing on the next day they passed mountain 
 spurs, and at sunset reached the foot of a moun- 
 tain pass. Here the young ladies wished to sleep 
 in a tent ; but Mrs. Mason insisted that they should 
 take, with her and Jane, the one large spare room 
 "in the loft" tendered by the man and woman of the 
 house by the roadside. They all, however, ate at 
 the camp a supper prepared by Jane and Josh, and 
 sat there in the open air till after ten o'clock. After 
 their own meal, the farmer's family joined them, 
 and asked, according to Margaret's estimate, forty- 
 one thousand questions. But the people were very
 
 438 THE STRANGER 
 
 hospitable and good-natured, and nothing occurred 
 to mar the enjoyment of any of the assembly ex- 
 cept a furious fight between Huntley's setter Nero 
 and his brother, Margaret's dog Guard, on one side, 
 and the mountaineer's three yellow and brindle curs, 
 on the other. The combatants were separated be- 
 fore any one was much hurt, and the curs then 
 "rocked" back into their yard by the mountain 
 boys. The mountaineer had served in the Army 
 of Northern Virginia, which drew him near to the 
 three "stranger men," as his family called them, 
 and caused him to linger by their camp-fire long 
 after the rest of his family and the female travelers 
 went to rest in the house. By this camp-fire the two 
 young ladies sang songs and hymns which delighted 
 the farmer's family. One of the girls, hearing the 
 echo from the mountain side of the last two words 
 in the hymn "I need Thee every hour," said to her 
 mother in an awed whisper, "Maw, the very mount- 
 ing is a jinin' in with the ladies. I hyeerd it say 'to 
 thee' jist as plain!" 
 
 The third day, being Sunday, they did not travel. 
 The next day's journey carried them through the 
 pass and up to the crest of a lofty ridge. Here they 
 all camped that night, not far from a house where 
 they procured milk, some eggs and poultry. They 
 were interviewed, of course, by the family residing 
 in that house a three-room log cabin with two 
 chimneys built of logs, sticks, and red clay. After 
 the man, his wife, and four small children went 
 away, Margaret had Eleanor read the fifteenth 
 chapter of the gospel of St. Luke, and after that 
 she read the family evening prayers from the Book 
 of Common Prayer. The teacher, casting a glance
 
 THE STRANGER 439 
 
 over the scene, during these prayers, was deeply 
 impressed with its ruggedness and solemnity. She 
 saw, in the bright, red glare of the two large fires, 
 the nine other persons of their company (for Mar- 
 garet had the four negroes to join them in the devo- 
 tions) all kneeling on carpeting, just beyond them 
 two white wall-tents, and at a short distance a third 
 tent placed between the vehicles and the horses and 
 mules, which stood plain in the fire-light, tethered 
 to small trees. The two large dogs lay in front of 
 the nearest fire. At a short distance stood a steep 
 peak, towering dark and shaggy against the leaden 
 sky. Elsewhere that sky shone with hundreds of 
 bright stars. There was scarcely any movement of 
 the air ; and silence brooded over the rocks and for- 
 ests, save that at intervals, far down the dark glen, 
 a whippoorwill whistled or a great owl hooted. She 
 recalled the frequent manifestations of Himself by 
 the Almighty on mountains Sinai, Horeb, Pisgah, 
 Carmel, Moriah and always, except at Carmel, in 
 the absence of crowds. She recollected that the Sa- 
 viour of men withdrew alone to a mountain, at 
 night, to pray. Such a place seemed to her, now 
 more than ever before, appropriate to His worship, 
 far from the cares, and toils, and struggles of men 
 a place formed by His own hands, and kept pure 
 from human trifling, human pride, and human de- 
 filement. 
 
 After that, all went to their several quarters, and 
 the teacher slept so well in the quiet and fresh at- 
 mosphere, that from ten minutes after lying down 
 beside her friend she was conscious of nothing till 
 she heard Huntley's voice at the door of the tent, 
 saying :
 
 440 THE STRANGER 
 
 " 'Envious streaks 
 
 Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: 
 Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.' " 
 
 Shortly after breakfast the journey was resumed. 
 Their way was full of interest, winding along deep 
 gorges, on the edge of precipitous cliffs, and on the 
 narrow ridges peculiar to the Blue Ridge chain, 
 at one time bringing them into the silent gloom of 
 dark forests, and at another opening the view of 
 many miles of mountain peaks. The teacher ob- 
 served that, except in the case of very steep cliffs of 
 rocks, the mountains were clothed with a dense 
 growth of forest trees, which gave those near at 
 hand a somber and mysterious appearance, and 
 smoothed and rounded and robed in rich shades of 
 blue the outline of those in the distance. Their 
 progress was much delayed by a mule casting a 
 shoe, and having to be led about two miles off their 
 line of travel to a smithy. So they failed to make 
 the house near which they had planned to camp, 
 and were compelled to pitch their tents some two 
 miles from any human dwelling. They found, 
 however, a small plateau of open ground, on an ele- 
 vated ridge, just below which was a bold spring of 
 very cold and sparkling water. As they had an 
 abundance of food for themselves and forage for 
 the horses and mules, they made themselves com- 
 fortable. Mr. Vaughn and Toodles rode forward 
 two miles or more, after they established their camp, 
 to procure milk, eggs, butter and poultry. They 
 returned, a little after dark, with a pound of butter, 
 a pint of milk, half-a-dozen eggs, and five small 
 chickens. Mr. Vaughn admitted that he had not a
 
 THE STRANGER 441 
 
 very pleasant ride, and had a decidedly unpleasant 
 interview with the partly drunk proprietor of the 
 house he visited. "But," he added, "a good woman, 
 the man's wife, came to my aid, and persuaded her 
 ill-mannered lord to furnish, at reasonable figure, 
 these few comforts." And after supper, around the 
 fire, the gentlemen told stories of their soldier life, 
 Huntley relating the circumstances of the death of 
 his friend Harrison.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 When the dense fog lifted, the next morning, 
 great masses of clouds were disclosed. Huntley 
 soon said : 
 
 "I do not like the appearance of those clouds and 
 the feeling of the air. I fear we shall have rain be- 
 fore long, and a good deal of it. What say you, 
 Jenkins ?" 
 
 "I'm of the same opinion," answered the Colonel. 
 "I think we'd better move on as soon as we can." 
 
 "We are in less than twenty miles of Tallulah 
 Falls, I learned from a mountaineer just now," 
 said Huntley. "It is desirable to reach there, where 
 we shall find shelter, rather than take chances of it 
 elsewhere." 
 
 So the morning meal was promptly disposed of, 
 the baggage loaded, and the vehicles started. Hunt- 
 ley rode in advance, to learn what he could of the 
 roads ; and after all were well on their way, Jenkins 
 pushed forward, with the same purpose. The road 
 was not bad, for that region, but too rough for 
 rapid progress. The clouds shifted continually, 
 sometimes breaking apart and leaving the sunshine 
 without obstruction. But these intermissions oc- 
 curred less frequently, and lasted for shorter pe- 
 riods, as the day advanced; and before noon the 
 clouds grew thick and dark, and thunder sounded at 
 intervals. By noon it began to rain with violence. 
 There was no house nor settlement in sight ; so they 
 moved slowly on. Neither Huntley nor Jenkins 
 had been seen since early morning. The rain grad-
 
 THE STRANGER 443 
 
 tially increased, as did the thunder and lightning. 
 The buggy had to be turned over to Cyrus and the 
 four women rode in the carriage. Mr. Vaughn 
 took the downpour bravely and placidly on Bu- 
 cephalus. Toodles was put into the covered wagon. 
 Mr. Vaughn had two umbrellas turned wrong-side- 
 outwards by the wind, and after that rode, in his 
 high silk hat, without any attempt at protection, 
 frequently assuring the "dear ladies" that the water 
 was pure and refreshing. The storm continued till 
 two o'clock and was so violent as to bring them to 
 a halt for more than an hour, the road being a run- 
 ning stream, and every ordinary stream a torrent. 
 During an intermission of the rain Huntley came 
 to them, riding at a gallop, and drenched with water. 
 He inquired if they had suffered any harm, and 
 added, "I was misled by an idiot of a woman, and 
 rode eight or ten miles out of the way. As I came 
 across the country, mostly by bridle-paths indicated 
 to me by a mountaineer, a terrible storm overtook 
 me. With an inferior horse, I should have fared 
 very badly. As it was, I had to swim three streams. 
 I hope we shall have no further trouble. But, by 
 this road, we must cross a stream, which, ordinarily 
 very small, may be much swollen by the rain. So 
 we must move as rapidly as we can, in order to 
 reach the ford before the flood comes." 
 
 The crossing proved to be within half a mile of 
 the spot where he overtook the train. There they 
 found a body of water, about thirty yards in width, 
 rushing down from the mountain heights, and pour- 
 ing into the lower ravine with a tremendous roar. 
 While they paused, a few yards from the stream, 
 Colonel Jenkins overtook them. His horse was
 
 444 THE STRANGER 
 
 breathing hard, and both horse and rider were spat- 
 tered with mud. 
 
 "Why, Jenkins," cried Huntley, "you seem to 
 have had a rough ride." 
 
 "I should say so!" roared the Colonel. "A fool 
 mountaineer misdirected me, and the Lord only 
 knows how far I have had to ride through the wind 
 and rain." 
 
 "My poor Samuel!" murmured Mr. Vaughn. 
 
 Huntley tried the ford. Delta waded till the wa- 
 ter reached high on her withers, then swam about 
 forty feet, and then waded to the other bank. Hunt- 
 ley turned, and tried the width of the wagonway by 
 moving up and down the stream. During this in- 
 vestigation the mare stepped into a pool that for a 
 moment engulfed her to the tips of her ears, and 
 wet her rider to the waist ; but she rose at once, and 
 swam back toward the place she had left. The trials 
 were continued till Huntley satisfied himself con- 
 cerning the bed of the stream and the depth of the 
 water, then he returned to the others and suggested 
 that they attempt a crossing, because the storm up 
 stream foreboded an increased volume of water, 
 which might detain them for several hours. 
 
 He proposed to drive the carriage himself, and 
 mounted the box, saying that John had best wait 
 and help the wagon across, and that Colonel Jenkins 
 would ride in front, to give any assistance needed. 
 The latter assented. Margaret insisted that her 
 mother and Jane should go in the carriage, and 
 Eleanor also, if she wished, but that she should 
 drive the buggy. Eleanor urged that she should 
 wait, and go with Margaret. Huntley hesitated, 
 but consented. Colonel Jenkins preceded them,
 
 THE STRANGER 445 
 
 leading Delta. The carriage floated a few yards, 
 and the water flowed in to the depth of a foot or 
 more; but Oaks and Old Trot breasted the flood 
 bravely, and soon landed the vehicle on the other 
 side. Then the two gentlemen returned, on their 
 horses, to escort the buggy. 
 
 Huntley regarded the two young ladies steadily, 
 and said, "If either one of you has any doubt, you 
 would best let Jenkins and me take you across on 
 our horses. We can do it very easily." 
 
 "I have no fear, no doubt at all," cried Margaret. 
 
 "Nor I," said the teacher. 
 
 "It is right hazardous," said Huntley. "That 
 pool below is deep, the current swift, and the fall 
 over the rocks very near." 
 
 "We will go !" cried both the ladies. 
 
 To the teacher's surprise, Huntley bade Jenkins 
 ride close in front of them, but himself remained 
 at the water's edge, saying some words to Vaughn 
 who sat on horseback at his side. 
 
 Margaret drove into the water. The horse, a 
 large, powerful animal belonging to Huntley, 
 moved promptly and steadily, following close after 
 Colonel Jenkins; and the passage appeared to pro- 
 ceed very well. The horse swam after a bit, and 
 rapidly, carrying the buggy pretty straight through 
 the deepest part of the ford, which was not far from 
 their point of entrance. But just as he again 
 touched bottom, he struck a rock, missed his foot- 
 ing, and veered down the stream, taking the vehicle 
 with him. Colonel Jenkins, at some risk, dashed 
 to him, seized his bridle, and strove to keep his head 
 up stream. But the animal lost all confidence at 
 once, and reared, and the current whirled the buggy
 
 446 THE STRANGER 
 
 down stream. The horse plunged, dragging Colonel 
 Jenkins almost out of the saddle, and broke away 
 from him; and then yielding to the current, he 
 stepped beyond his depth, completely submerging 
 the vehicle and its two occupants. Two sounds El- 
 eanor heard above all the rush of water around 
 her the near roar of the cataract and shrill screams 
 from the banks. When all around her was dark- 
 ness, and water filled her ears and nostrils, and her 
 head seemed bursting, she felt lifted and heard a 
 voice say, calmly and decisively, "Do not struggle. 
 Here ; hold fast." And then one of her hands was 
 placed on some object, which she at once grasped. 
 In a moment she saw dimly the light again, and 
 found herself moving. Then the same voice said, 
 "Put down your feet. You can wade." 
 
 When the person with her paused, she realized 
 that she was standing waist deep in water, holding 
 Huntley's shoulder. A little beyond stood Mar- 
 garet, supported by Colonel Jenkins. 
 
 "By the Lord," cried Colonel Jenkins as they 
 clambered up the rocky banks, "that was a close 
 call !" 
 
 "I was very much afraid that the two horses 
 would drown you, Sam," said Huntley. "That was 
 a fearful venture of yours holding to the buggy 
 horse. And when you were swept below him, and 
 plunged into the water after Margaret, I expected 
 you to be trampled and drowned. But let us get the 
 horse and buggy out." 
 
 Then the two waded in to where the horse and 
 vehicle had drifted against some rocks, close to the 
 cataract, and the animal stood trembling and 
 panting. They loosed him from the buggy, and led
 
 THE STRANGER 447 
 
 him up the bank to where Mrs. Mason and Jane 
 stood. The buggy was afterward landed and 
 moved, though with much difficulty, into the road. 
 
 After Mrs. Mason had greeted the rescued girls, 
 the two men, sometimes wading, sometimes swim- 
 ming, went back to the wagon and those on the 
 other bank, and after a time brought all across, 
 Jenkins carrying Toodles on the pommel of his 
 saddle. His horse had returned to that side as soon 
 as left by his master. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Vaughn joined them, he ex- 
 claimed, "Aren't they glorious fellows William 
 and Samuel? Here. Shake hands again," and he 
 shook the hands of his two friends, while tears 
 stood in his eyes. Eleanor had seen him do the 
 same thing twice on the other bank. 
 
 "Have you no hand-shakes for us, Mr. Marcus 
 Aurelius?" cried Margaret, laughing. 
 
 "Dear me!" exclaimed the little man. "In my 
 admiration of the heroic rescuers I have neglected 
 the charming rescued. My dear, sweet ladies, ac- 
 cept my congratulations." 
 
 Then he shook hands with them, with Mrs. Ma- 
 son, and with Jane.' They tied the injured buggy 
 together with ropes and chains, and to supply the 
 place of a broken wheel rested that end of the back 
 axle on a pole which at one end rested on the front 
 axle, and at the other on the ground; and thus 
 mended, they dragged the vehicle by fastening it to 
 the rear of the wagon. The stream was still rising 
 when they resumed their journey after five o'clock, 
 so that it appeared that they had acted wisely in 
 risking the crossing when they did. They arrived 
 at Tallulah Falls a little after sunset, and located
 
 448 THE STRANGER 
 
 their camp at the distance of about two hundred 
 yards from the inn, on an elevated spot of ground, 
 amid a grove of small forest trees. The ladies and 
 Jane went to the inn, and spent the night there, as 
 Mrs. Mason thought it unsafe for her daughter and 
 Eleanor to risk the exposure of the camp; but all 
 the others ate and slept in camp. 
 
 They visited the falls the next morning Lodore, 
 a succession of rapids, swift, graceful and bright; 
 The Hurricane, a single leap of water over a nearly 
 perpendicular rock; Tempesta, where the whole 
 river plunged sheer over a wall of rock into a nar- 
 row basin, with a roar greatly heightened by the 
 confining rock on each side; and finally the Bridal 
 Veil, where, partly on account of obstruction at the 
 edge of the ledge, and partly in consequence of the 
 distance from which they viewed it, the water 
 seemed to break into a spray which waved and shim- 
 mered in the sunlight, having much the appearance 
 of a white veil blown by the wind. Eleanor was 
 surprised and delighted. 
 
 "Why," cried she, "have I never read or heard of 
 this place, except when you named it as a point in 
 our line of travel ?" 
 
 "Then you enjoy it somewhat as I do," said Mar- 
 garet. "I wonder that I have heard so little of it. 
 I have known for years that there were falls here; 
 but I have had no reason to think them worth trav- 
 eling to see. The scenes are positively beautiful, 
 and grand." 
 
 "I never saw anything like it," pursued Eleanor. 
 "Those rugged, precipitous mountain heights, tow- 
 ering far up on each side of the vast, deep chasm, 
 are a wonderful sight to me resembling, I imag-
 
 THE STRANGER 449 
 
 ine, the famous canons of the Northwest. And then 
 this beautiful river, now almost as placid and 
 smooth as a lake, now gliding in ripples over a suc- 
 cession of steps, now plunging straight down, and 
 pounding the bed beneath with deafening roar, now 
 breaking into a volume of spray that floats and 
 waves and sways in the breeze. It is a marvelous 
 combination of grandeur and beauty!" 
 
 "I agree with you," said Huntley. "It greatly 
 exceeds any description I have had of it. If this 
 scenery were in the North " 
 
 "If it were in the North," cried Eleanor, taking 
 up the unfinished sentence, "it would be advertised, 
 in one way or another, for five hundred miles 
 around, and would draw thousands of visitors." 
 
 "I'm very glad we brought you here," said Col- 
 onel Jenkins, cordially. "And I'm glad I came ; for 
 I was never here before." 
 
 "Nor I," "Nor I," repeated Huntley and Mr. 
 Vaughn. 
 
 "I am surprised," said Eleanor, "that any of you 
 should have failed to know of this scenery, so beau- 
 tiful and so unique." 
 
 "You see," said Huntley, quietly, but with a 
 twinkle of the eyes, "we Southern people have some 
 good things that we do not boast of." 
 
 "You have some things," cried Eleanor, with en- 
 thusiasm, "of which you could hardly boast too 
 much some men, and some women," and she 
 bowed to the others of the group. 
 
 "Sweet lady!" exclaimed Mr. Vaughn, grasping 
 her hand and shaking it. 
 
 "Marcus," said Huntley, "you are a genius. But 
 29
 
 450 THE STRANGER 
 
 for that performance we should have had a scene. 
 Aunt Caroline and Margaret were fast getting into 
 tears, and Jenkins was blushing." 
 
 "Dear boy!" cried Mr. Vaughn, and then shook 
 hands all around.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 They remained at Tallulali Falls several days. 
 Mr. Vaughn attended assiduously on the ladies, and 
 made himself useful as well as agreeable. Colonel 
 Jenkins went once with Huntley and some moun- 
 taineers on a deer-drive, and once with Huntley on 
 a hunt for pheasants; but coming home fatigued 
 and empty-handed both times, he took to fishing 
 in the river and loitering about the camp. Hunt- 
 ley, after the first day, did not spend a day with 
 them, except Sunday. He started every morning 
 soon after breakfast, and either rode deer-hunting 
 with the men in the mountains or hunted pheasants 
 on foot, taking his trained setter Nero. Once he 
 brought in four pheasants, once six, and once he 
 brought a large haunch of venison. Sometimes 
 he brought in only two or three squirrels; but he 
 seemed never satisfied to stay in camp, or to be idle, 
 and he was always away till sunset, or later. 
 
 Toodles afforded Eleanor much amusement. Ar- 
 rayed in either his blue flannel suit or in white duck, 
 and wearing a blue cloth cap much ornamented with 
 gold lace, he assumed an air of importance in places. 
 He patronized the mountain boys, and showed little 
 respect for the mountain men, all of whom, men 
 as well as boys, regarded him as quite a curiosity, 
 and asked him many questions. 
 
 Eleanor and Margaret, sitting in their room one 
 day, a little away from the open window, heard a 
 native inquire of Toodles who brought him there.
 
 452 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Well," said he, "I come wid Cap'n Vaughn and 
 Colonel Jenkins and Mr. Huntley." 
 
 "But," said the man, "you don't live with all 
 three of 'em, do you ?" 
 
 "Xo," answered the boy, "I lives at Cap'n 
 Vaughn's house, at home." 
 
 "Well, which one do vou wait on?" 
 
 "I got more partic'ler charge o' Cap'n Vaughn." 
 
 "Well," said another mountaineer, in a jesting 
 tone, "them two is giniwine captain and colonel?" 
 
 "Dey sho is," replied Toodles, with decision. 
 "Dey's Confedric officers. An' dey's fighters, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 "Which is they?" 
 
 "Well," answered the boy, "Colonel Jenkins is 
 him wid de big mustache and de hat tu'n up on de 
 side; an' Cap'n Vaughn ain't so big, an' he got 
 long yaller hair." 
 
 "An' t'other one," pursued the man "what rides 
 the black mar', is he Mr. Huntley?" 
 
 "That's him." 
 
 "Well, he ain't nothin' but plain Mister?" 
 
 "He mought be a gin'ral, ur a jedge, ur a bishop, 
 ef he wanted ter," returned Toodles, stoutly; "but 
 he don't keer nothin' 'bout sich things." 
 
 "An' what's your name? Toofer. or Toodler, or 
 what?" 
 
 "Oh," answered the boy loftily, "my folks call 
 me Toodles for fun, you know." 
 
 "And what is your name?" 
 
 "Well," said Toodles, standing erect and speaking 
 loudly, "my full entitles is George Josephus Aber- 
 crombie ef you will have it !"
 
 THE STRANGER 453 
 
 "Gee-whillikens !" cried one of the men. "An' 
 whar did yer git that name?" 
 
 "Ef you'd read hist'ry books, you'd fin' out!" 
 responded the boy, and walked away. 
 
 "Bravo, Toodles !" said Margaret to Eleanor. 
 
 From that time they called the little man "with 
 yaller hair" nothing but "Cap'n Vaughn." 
 
 Their recreations were few, and those of an unex- 
 citing kind. They fished a little, walked a great deal, 
 rode out to two "views" in the vicinity, and con- 
 versed or played cards with the few visitors who 
 from time to time spent a day or two at the falls. 
 But the ladies were pleasant company for one an- 
 other, the mountain air was delightful, their fare 
 and their appetites good, and their evenings by the 
 camp-fire very enjoyable. Then the three old sol- 
 diers related many interesting experiences, and 
 Huntley, incidentally, gave them the benefit of his 
 extensive and varied study. These "discursions," as 
 he called them, afforded the teacher accurate and 
 considerable knowledge on many subjects connected 
 with her occupation, for he added to what he had 
 learned from books his own bold, critical thought. 
 Not seldom Colonel Jenkins nodded, and often Mrs. 
 Mason talked aside to "Cap'n Vaughn," while the 
 other three ranged over all sorts of topics ; but Mar- 
 garet and Eleanor were always attentive listeners, 
 and each or both often engaged Huntley in argu- 
 ment, in which, the other two gentlemen said, they 
 sometimes worsted him. 
 
 But the experiences of war were to the teacher 
 the most interesting feature of those talks. The 
 men, including Colonel Jenkins, the boaster, were 
 disposed to be just and frank, and encouraged her
 
 454 THE STRANGER 
 
 to ask questions. One evening she asked Huntley 
 what one thing, in his opinion, constituted princi- 
 pally the strength of the Confederate armies. 
 
 "The close sympathy among the men in the ser- 
 vice," answered he. "And this sympathy this 
 fellowship was the result somewhat of a single, 
 common purpose among them, but chiefly of their 
 homogeneousness. In the Federal armies there 
 were men of many tastes, many motives, many 
 theories, many races. About twenty-five per cent 
 were foreigners, mostly South-Irish and Germans. 
 Among the native Americans, the New Englander 
 was, in some respects, unlike even his neighbor the 
 New Yorker or the Pennsylvanian, and very unlike 
 the men of the West. We had, almost only, men 
 of English, Scotch-Irish and French Huguenot 
 bloods, who had become well assimilated by long 
 residence in the same communities. Officers and 
 enlisted men were, practically, of the same blood, 
 were neighbors and friends at home, and usually 
 of about the same social standing. Those things 
 caused the officers to respect the men and treat them 
 with courtesy, and gave the men affection for the 
 officers, and confidence in them. I know that Gen- 
 eral Hooker, in 1863, attributed the efficiency of 
 the Army of Northern Virginia to our superior 
 discipline. That was true, if by "superior" is meant 
 "wiser" discipline ; but it was not true, if he meant 
 more rigorous. From what I saw, and from what 
 I have learned from officers as well as men in the 
 Federal service, their discipline was decidedly sterner 
 than ours; and I think it ought to have been. It 
 is easy to see that men of the same blood, the same 
 traditions, the same purpose, and united by mutual
 
 THE STRANGER 455 
 
 esteem and respect would cooperate far more 
 promptly, unanimously and heartily than those who 
 were dissimilar to one another and unacquainted 
 with one another. Their personal friendship for an 
 officer would often carry our men with him in the 
 most desperate enterprises ; and a gallant sergeant, 
 or a private sometimes added new vigor to a charge, 
 or stayed a disordered line." 
 
 "Did that feeling of personal interest operate 
 beyond one's own company, or, at most, beyond a 
 single regiment?" asked Eleanor. 
 
 "It held, perhaps always, throughout a regiment, 
 and could be seen, sometimes, throughout a brigade. 
 The troops being usually brigaded by States, there 
 was often some State rivalry which influenced them ; 
 but I think that feeling had not a great effect." 
 
 "Speaking of the brotherly feeling among the 
 men," said Vaughn, "do you recollect, William, 
 how much our people were affected by the execution 
 of those deserters in 1865?" 
 
 "I can never forget it," said Huntley. "It was 
 very creditable to them; but I often wish I could 
 banish that scene from my mind." 
 
 "It must have been distressing to witness it," 
 said Eleanor ; "and it must be painful to think of it 
 now. But would you mind telling about it?" 
 
 "Well," answered Huntley, "it was one of those 
 horrible things which have to be done in war, and 
 but I suppose I need not refuse to talk about it. 
 Have you ever read Christopher North's description 
 of the execution of the mutinous soldier, in the 
 'Noctes Ambrosianae' ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "This one was far more dreadful than that, and
 
 456 THE STRANGER 
 
 the author of the 'Noctes' would have pictured it in 
 language to make the blood curdle in one's veins. 
 I have no such gift of description, and therefore 
 shall not attempt to give you more than a suggestion 
 of the features of the scene. Desertions from the 
 lines about Petersburg, in the winter of 1864 and 
 1865, were much more frequent, and much more 
 numerous, than ever before. Sometimes five or 
 six men, or more, went at one time, either to the 
 enemy or elsewhere. Finally, eleven men of our 
 regiment stole away in the night, to go home, it 
 afterward appeared. Five of them were captured 
 the next day, or the following night, and within 
 twenty-four hours were brought to trial, convicted 
 and sentenced to be shot. There was no doubt of 
 their guilt, and I think they admitted it. One of 
 them was respited on account of his youth, and be- 
 cause it was supposed that he might have been in- 
 fluenced by his father, who was one of the five taken. 
 The next day after the trial the other four were 
 brought out for execution. Now two of the four 
 had been excellent soldiers. One showed, that 
 morning, on his face the scar of a terrible wound 
 received at Gettysburg, where he had been left some 
 time as dead, and he had been wounded more than 
 once. The other had been gallant and faithful be- 
 yond the average of even that distinguished com- 
 mand. A third had been a good soldier. The 
 fourth had rather a poor record. They were to be 
 shot by a detail from the same regiment which has 
 always seemed to me to be not quite just. The 
 brigade was drawn up on three sides of a square, 
 the fourth side being left open for the execution. 
 The condemned were marched, with the two pla-
 
 THE STRANGER 457 
 
 toons of soldiers who were to shoot them, around 
 the inner side of the square, the troops being in line 
 and facing inward. The band played a dirge as 
 the mournful procession moved. The poor fellows, 
 ragged, mud-stained, pallid and drooping, passed 
 slowly before their comrades, some, or all of them, 
 saying, again and again, the simple words, 'Good 
 by, boys !' I know not if any of their friends spoke; 
 but I saw many a stern soldier pass his worn, soiled 
 sleeve across his eyes, and saw the tears of many. 
 Four stakes, driven deep into the earth, had been 
 placed on the open side of the square. To these, 
 after being blindfolded and made to kneel, the four 
 men were tied, their hands being fastened behind 
 them. At the first volley three of them dropped 
 their heads, and hung limp and motionless from the 
 stakes. They seemed to die without a struggle. 
 The fourth, however a large, strong man though 
 pierced in breast and stomach by several balls, and 
 bleeding copiously, writhed and struggled fearfully. 
 The exertion depicted in the Laocoon sculpture is 
 far short of the effort exhibited by that torn and 
 tortured man. He bowed himself for a moment, 
 sinking his knees into the earth, and then, rising 
 up and bending forward, strained every muscle of 
 his powerful arms and legs, till the tight sleeves 
 of his gray jacket seemed about to burst, and the 
 stake shook and bent. It looked, for a time, as if he 
 would rise to his feet and wrench the stake out of 
 the earth. Yet he never uttered a word, or any 
 sound. The whole brigade stood aghast. I saw the 
 brigadier-general (who, under regulation, stood 
 with his staff within a few feet of the spot) shrink 
 back, and lay his hand on the shoulder of his aide-
 
 458 THE STRANGER 
 
 de-camp. Presently the second platoon was ranged 
 immediately in front of the man. They anticipated 
 the commands, aiming when ordered to make ready, 
 and firing at the word "aim." He received this 
 volley as one of us would a pinch of dust, though 
 I think every ball the fifty-six caliber Minie rifle- 
 ball struck him between his throat and waist, for 
 no one saw the dusty hillside behind him struck. 
 And still he writhed and strained with undimin- 
 ished energy. Preparation was begun to reload the 
 rifles of the shooting detail ; but before this was 
 done two surgeons, on examination, pronounced 
 him practically dead. His efforts slowly decreased, 
 until at last he too hung limp and still from his 
 stake." 
 
 "An awful spectacle!" exclaimed Eleanor. 
 
 "I saw it," said Vaughn, pale and shuddering; 
 "and I felt faint and sick for .days."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 One day Huntley, though restless and ill at ease, 
 stayed at the camp all the morning, looking to the 
 grooming of the horses and mules, and sometimes 
 reading. After an early dinner he took a fishing 
 rod and went away alone, saying that he would go 
 up the river. 
 
 Eleanor, too, growing weary of whist, left Mrs. 
 Mason and Margaret at the game, about five o'clock 
 in the afternoon, and taking a book walked out to 
 the cliff that overhangs the Bridal Veil fall. There, 
 seated on the rock, protected by trees from the de- 
 clining sun, she read and meditated for an hour 
 or more. At length she heard the sound of feet 
 climbing up the height from the river gorge, and 
 before long she saw Huntley, rod in hand, ascend- 
 ing the steep acclivity. He seemed not to see her 
 till within a few yards of the ledge where she sat, 
 and then changed his course, as if to pass by. But 
 he soon turned and came to her. He lifted his hat, 
 and said : 
 
 "I thought at first that I ought not to disturb 
 you; but then I thought that you might not mind 
 my resting here a little while. The ascent is steep 
 and rough, as you no doubt found the other day, 
 and I find myself somewhat tired." 
 
 "Rest yourself by all means," said she. "You 
 have had a fatiguing walk, if you went above the 
 mill and then came down the river." 
 
 "Yes," said he, "I found no fish worth catching
 
 460 THE STRANGER 
 
 up there; so, thinking- I might do better at the pool 
 below the Bridal Veil, I went there." 
 
 "Yet caught nothing?" 
 
 "Nothing but a catfish and two or three small 
 perch, which I threw back into the water." 
 
 They talked in a desultory way for a few min- 
 utes, but he seemed preoccupied and uncomfortable. 
 Finally he rose from his seat on a rock somewhat 
 below her, and she rose also. Seeing a small wild 
 flower in a crevice immediately beneath her, she 
 moved, and stooped to pluck it, but in doing so she 
 slipped a few inches. He sprang toward her at 
 once, but she recovered her footing before he 
 reached her, and gathered the flower. 
 
 "These rocks are very unsafe," said he, in his 
 usual emotionless tone, "and the cliff becomes per- 
 pendicular a few feet farther down. Moreover, 
 there is always danger of giddiness at this height." 
 
 "Thank you," said she; "but I have never been 
 troubled in that way, and therefore incur less risk 
 than most persons in walking on such places as 
 this." 
 
 "No doubt," returned he gravely. "But the 
 steadiest head will not always supply the need of a 
 safe footing, as you well know." 
 
 She turned to retrace her steps, but in an instant 
 she slipped, then she reeled and fell forward. Then 
 darkness and blankness seemed to envelop her. Her 
 next consciousness was of being held closely, and 
 lifted above the earth; and then she heard, as she 
 was borne, she knew not where, a voice crying pas- 
 sionately, "My love ! My life !" 
 
 Then, when she saw again, she found herself 
 standing on the rock, locked in Huntley's arms, his
 
 THE STRANGER 461 
 
 cheek resting against hers, and his heart throbbing 
 against her own. 
 
 In the first moments she felt only the relief of 
 rescue, joined with a sense of safety and support, 
 and she was content to rest her head on his shoulder 
 and trust to his will. But soon she realized that 
 Margaret Mason's affianced husband was breathing 
 words of love in her ears and clasping her in a pas- 
 sionate embrace. At this thought she recovered 
 strength to tear herself from his arms and thrust 
 him from her. 
 
 "Go, sir!" cried she. "I hate you! I command 
 you to leave me!" 
 
 He paused a space, regarding her with eyes still 
 bright with excitement, yet full of contrition. Then 
 he said, in great agitation, and with evident diffi- 
 culty : 
 
 "I pray your pardon. In my sudden and over- 
 powering alarm I lost all self-control; and in my 
 joy at rescuing you I was beside myself. Forgive 
 me! Forgive me!" 
 
 She remembered afterward that his face ex- 
 pressed profound regret and penitence, and that his 
 voice was sad and pleading. But in her present 
 horror she was incapable of appreciating his emo- 
 tions. 
 
 "Leave me, sir!" 
 
 "Allow me at least to help you to a place where 
 you may safely rest," said he with forced compo- 
 sure. 
 
 "Go ! Let me never see you again !" she ex- 
 claimed. "I thought you were a gentleman!" 
 
 His face flushed red, and his eyes flashed. Then 
 he grew pale, and quietly said, "You have said
 
 462 THE STRANGER 
 
 enough. I shall not trouble you longer. I will send 
 some one to your assistance," and turned and 
 walked away. 
 
 He must have heard her weeping, for when he 
 had walked a few yards, she saw him halt and turn 
 toward her. But after pausing a few seconds he 
 went on, passing into the thick laurel that enclosed 
 the path. 
 
 She soon experienced much pain, and on attempt- 
 ing to rise found herself unable to stand. Then she 
 sat upon the rock, awaiting the help which she knew 
 would be sent her. Soon after she recovered a de- 
 gree of composure, she heard two female voices 
 rapidly approaching, and in a minute, Margaret and 
 Jane reached her. 
 
 "My poor dear !" cried the former, running to her 
 and lifting her in her arms. "I am so sorry. Are 
 you really much hurt?" 
 
 Eleanor answered with a burst of tears. 
 
 "To be sure. To be sure," murmured Margaret, 
 caressing her. "Your nerves were unstrung by the 
 danger. William would not say much ; but I know, 
 from what he said, and the way he looked, that you 
 came near to losing your life, and that he was dread- 
 fully alarmed. Don't talk more than is absolutely 
 necessary. Only lean on Jane and me. I think we 
 shall carry you safely." 
 
 "Lord 'a mussy!" groaned Jane. "To think o' 
 one o' my young mistisses gitt'n hu't like dis! It 
 must a' been awful bad, to skeer Mars William 
 so!" 
 
 One of her ankles was a good deal sprained, but 
 with the support of Jane and Margaret, Eleanor 
 was helped to the inn, without great effort on their
 
 THE STRANGER 463 
 
 part, and without much pain to her. There she was 
 put to bed and the usual remedies applied. 
 
 Margaret sat with her during the greater part of 
 the evening, and lay on a pallet on the floor, in the 
 same room, at night ; but she talked little, and for- 
 bade Eleanor to talk much. She came in about 
 eleven o'clock, after sitting half an hour with the 
 others of the traveling party, and said, with some 
 feeling, "I never saw William quite as he is to- 
 night. He is absent, restless, and nervous. It must 
 have been a fearful thing, to have deranged the 
 nerves of two such steady persons/' 
 
 Feeling that her failure to inquire concerning him 
 would excite suspicion, which she wished to avert, 
 Eleanor asked if he had received any bodily harm, 
 adding that she would be sorry to think that he had 
 suffered in helping her. 
 
 "No," answered Margaret. "He seems to be un- 
 injured. Indeed, he stood, for some time, at the 
 camp, discussing with a stranger the prospect of 
 finding mica some miles from here in such quantity 
 and of such kind as to warrant mining. He after- 
 ward walked to the inn with the same gentleman, 
 who is prospecting for minerals, and when he re- 
 turned, just before I came, announced that he had 
 arranged to go, day after to-morrow, for three or 
 four days, with that gentleman and his party." 
 
 Margaret slept well on her lowly bed, much to the 
 relief of the unhappy Eleanor ; for, with no fear of 
 disturbing her sympathetic friend, she could freely 
 wake, and think, and weep in the darkness. When, 
 at long intervals, she fell into slumber, it was but 
 for a few minutes, and her sleep was fuller of tor- 
 ture than her waking hours ; for she dreamed again
 
 464 THE STRANGER 
 
 and again of lofty precipices and dark chasms, of 
 herself or others dashed to death by falling from 
 immeasurable heights, of men of demoniac fierce- 
 ness hurling her into the deeps or against jagged 
 rocks, of storms raging, of earthquakes shaking 
 mountains upon her. And in every vision in the 
 rolling thunder clouds, in the flash of lightning, on 
 the heights, in the depths, on the rushing rivers, in 
 the gloom of forests there was ever present a face, 
 with chiseled features, broad pale brow and lumi- 
 nous eyes the face of Huntley. Now it seemed to 
 accuse, now it blazed in wrath, now it beamed with 
 love, now it was sorrowful and full of pity, now it 
 was cold, hard and mocking ; but it was always the 
 same countenance, and always distressing to be- 
 hold. 
 
 All the miseries of the hours of waking were pre- 
 ferable to those dreams; but they were periods of 
 infinite pain. Sometimes she doubted the evidence 
 of her senses and the correctness of her memory. 
 Was it possible that a man, so self-contained and 
 self-possessed, so brave, so just, so scrupulous in 
 the performance of his obligations, should at once 
 throw aside all the principles and rules of conduct 
 by which his life had been guided and governed? 
 How could such a man ignore or forget, even for a 
 moment, her claim on his protection, or his duty to 
 his betrothed, or his own dignity and self-respect? 
 
 Was he under the influence of drink, or drugs, 
 or disease? No. Was his mind deranged? Cer- 
 tainly no. Was he so alarmed that he spoke words 
 and indulged in acts unconsciously? The evidence 
 was directly to the contrary ; for he was strong, his 
 hand never shook, and his language was that of a
 
 THE STRANGER 465 
 
 man in possession of his faculties. His very words 
 of regret, and his entreaty for pardon, though 
 evincing strong emotion, were spoken in a manner 
 which indicated that he was aware of having done 
 wrong, yet was far from cringing. 
 
 She recalled and for the moment she was con- 
 scious of a glow of gratitude and admiration how 
 he had faced and resisted the opposition of others 
 to her ; how he had laid aside his own prejudices, 
 to secure justice to her ; how he had sent his kins- 
 woman to tend her in sickness; how deferentially 
 he had borne himself toward her ; how fair and con- 
 siderate he was toward all persons. He was brave, 
 staunch, proud, and though not fond of the society 
 of women, always chivalrous. How could he do as 
 he had done? 
 
 She also recalled his affection for his aunt, his 
 care of her business and her comfort, his solicitude 
 for his beautiful and accomplished cousin. How 
 could he be false to her? 
 
 Yet these words of passionate love, and that em- 
 brace how could they be explained ? He had never 
 shown any special liking of her, any jealousy, any 
 wish to monopolize her, any anxiety to secure her 
 favor, or even her attention. He had saved her, 
 and not Margaret, from the flood of water ; but that 
 was because another strong man was already at 
 Margaret's side. He had never visited her, except 
 to communicate some information connected with 
 the school; and always, as soon as he had dis- 
 charged that duty, he had gone away. Was it pos- 
 sible that he had loved her without showing it ? He 
 seemed to avoid her of late, rather than seek her, 
 30
 
 466 THE STRANGER 
 
 for he daily absented himself many hours of the 
 day. Was he struggling with a newly born passion 
 for her? Was he trying to arrange a means of 
 breaking with Margaret ? His manner had not indi- 
 cated such a purpose; for she recalled that he had 
 talked more with his cousin during the last week 
 than usual, and had several times conversed with her 
 for an hour or more, apart from the others. And 
 only twenty-four hours ago she had seen him lay 
 his hand on her shoulder, and rest it there for some 
 minutes a thing she had never before known him 
 to do, or to do the like of. Men preparing to be "off 
 with the old love" do not conduct themselves in such 
 fashion. 
 
 But was it certain that there was an engagement 
 between the two cousins? Her sad heart gave a 
 great bound as this doubt spoke to it. Ah, if it were 
 true that he was not bound to Margaret either by 
 promise or in honor! But that supposition was in- 
 admissible. His friends and her friends had re- 
 peatedly spoken of their engagement as beyond 
 doubt. Mr. Williams had referred to it as a fact 
 generally known. Margaret's near kinswoman, 
 Mrs. Williams, had mentioned it in the same way, 
 and once had expressed her difficulty in accounting 
 for their delay to marry finally conjecturing that 
 it was caused partly by her delicate health, partly 
 by the disturbed state of the country. 
 
 What then brought about his words and actions 
 that afternoon? Was it mere animal passion, ex- 
 cited by contact with her person ? And so, sleeping 
 or waking, her mind groped and wandered in mazes 
 of doubt, darkness, and misery, trying many theories 
 and many conjectures, arguing, guessing, speculat-
 
 THE STRANGER 467 
 
 ing, and always coming back to the one thing so 
 wofully plain that he had wronged her and 
 wronged the woman to whom his faith was plighted, 
 and to whom she was bound by the strongest ties 
 of gratitude and affection. And when day dawned, 
 she lay broken, weary, and despairing, having con- 
 cluded that this was only another instance of an 
 honorable and noble man yielding to base impulses.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 On the third day after her misfortune, while the 
 teacher, reclining against pillows, was listening to 
 Margaret read, some one rapped gently at the door. 
 Margaret answered the summons, and on opening 
 the door exclaimed : 
 
 "Ah, it is yon, Mr. Vaughn." 
 
 "Yes, dear lady," responded the voice in the pas- 
 sage. "Samuel and I pine for a sight of the fair 
 ah sufferer. So we've fixed up a litter a 
 stretcher, as we called it in the army so as to carry 
 her out to gladden the camp, if she is strong enough 
 to be moved." 
 
 "And is that your 'stretcher*?" 
 
 "Yes, dear lady, and we think it a pretty good 
 one." 
 
 "And who are to carry it?" 
 
 "Samuel Jenkins and I." 
 
 "Eleanor," called Margaret, "you must see what 
 Mr. Vaughn and Colonel Jenkins have prepared for 
 you. Can't he bring it in ?" 
 
 "I suppose so," replied Eleanor. 
 
 Then the young man with the long fair hair 
 dragged into the room a queer thing made of cloth 
 and poles, resting on four very crooked legs. 
 
 "Isn't it nice?" cried he. "Samuel and I can 
 transport you in safety and comfort. Won't you 
 let us?" 
 
 Eleanor had to laugh, and consent. 
 
 "That's a dear, sweet creature!" cried "Cap'n
 
 THE STRANGER 469 
 
 Vaughn," gliding to her chair and grasping her 
 hand. 
 
 So he was permitted to call the Colonel; and 
 then Margaret and they two lifted the teacher to 
 the Utter. And then, after the arranging of pillows 
 and cushions, the two gentlemen "Cap'n Vaughn" 
 occupying the forward shafts, and Colonel Jenkins 
 the rear ones lifted the "vehicle," as the "Cap'n" 
 called it, and bore it and Eleanor down-stairs, out 
 of the house, and over to the camp. 
 
 All those there Mrs. Mason, Jane, Josh, John, 
 Cyrus and Toodles shouted a hearty welcome as 
 the procession neared them ; and Jane cried, "Bless 
 God! Dat Mr. Vaughn done nx it jist as he been 
 wantin' to do." 
 
 There was a great deal of laughter, and the three 
 ladies complimented and thanked the Colonel and 
 Mr. Vaughn. The Colonel disclaimed all title to 
 praise, but Mr. Vaughn acknowledged that he was 
 proud of himself. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," he exclaimed, "Samuel did good 
 work more, and better, than I did; but I was the 
 genius who ah imagined and contrived the ve- 
 hicle. And I feel very important, and deserving of 
 praise and thanks. Though," kissing his lingers to 
 the ladies, "it's very sweet to hear you dear ladies 
 express your ah appreciation of my ah ef- 
 forts," 
 
 So it was merrier now than it had been in the 
 small room at the inn; and, if the stranger was not 
 quite cheerful, she experienced great pleasure in the 
 pure, cool atmosphere of the camp, and in the so- 
 ciety of friends so solicitous of her comfort. 
 
 At dark the two gentlemen bore her back to the.
 
 470 THE STRANGER 
 
 inn. The next morning she was again carried, to 
 the camp, and spent the day there. She found her- 
 self greatly improved by the change. 
 
 Soon after sunset, that day, Huntley rode into 
 the camp. It was trying to meet him again ; but he 
 relieved her by bowing to her and expressing the 
 hope that she was getting well, and Mr. Vaughn 
 immediately related the history of the litter, telling 
 it with high enjoyment. 
 
 "You know, Marcus," said Huntley, as soon as 
 the little man gave him an opportunity, "I have long 
 known, and said, that you are a genius." 
 
 "And you, dear boy," returned Vaughn, "are the 
 wise man who ah recognizes and ah ap- 
 plauds talents whenever and wherever you find 
 them!" 
 
 "That's both clever and kind of you," said Hunt- 
 ley, seriously. And then "Cap'n Vaughn" capered 
 around the circle, shaking hands, and protesting 
 that that was the finest collection of people ever 
 gathered together. "And all of us such good 
 friends!" he concluded. Huntley went away to 
 look after Delta; and he did not return while El- 
 eanor remained with them. He was gone the next 
 morning when she was, for the third time, borne 
 from the inn to the camp; and Mrs. Mason stated 
 that they should not see him again until he should 
 meet them on their arrival at the railway station on 
 their way home. 
 
 In something less than four weeks after their de- 
 parture from Cherenden they arrived in the village. 
 It was now September, and the opening of the 
 school about three weeks off. Within a week after 
 her return, Eleanor was surprised by the entrance,
 
 THE STRANGER 471 
 
 unannounced, of Dr. Thompson into the Squire's 
 library, where she sat alone reading. He spoke at 
 once, in his customary abrupt fashion. 
 
 "Don't rise," said he, coming to her and shaking 
 her hand cordially. "I saw you here, and saw no 
 one else. So I came right in. I'm glad to see you 
 sun-burnt. I'd rather see you less thin ; but I judge 
 that the trip has done you good." 
 
 She thanked him, and said that it had been an in- 
 teresting one. 
 
 "I came to tell you," pursued he, "that I have 
 been elected to a place on the board of trustees of 
 the academy. If you find I can help you in any way, 
 call on me without hesitation. You know I'm your 
 friend." 
 
 "I have been glad to think so, for a long time," 
 said Eleanor, earnestly. 
 
 "That's nice," cried the old man, wiping his moist 
 forehead. "But I'm not your only friend there. 
 Colonel Tomlinson is one and Cogburn speaks as 
 highly of you as as he ever did of anybody. So 
 the whole three can be counted on." 
 
 The whole three? Where was that other who 
 was heretofore one of the three? The Doctor fur- 
 nished the answer quickly. 
 
 "Yes," said he, "I protested against William 
 Huntley's resignation you knew he had resigned, 
 didn't you?" 
 
 "I had not heard of it." 
 
 "Well," continued the old man, "perhaps he men- 
 tioned it only to me, till to-day. He's a very reticent 
 man. He was infinitely better qualified for that 
 business than any of the rest of us, and better than 
 any man I know. As I said, I protested against it;
 
 472 THE STRANGER 
 
 and so did the other two trustees, but he stood firm, 
 giving as his reasons that he lived at a distance, that 
 he sent no pupils to the school, and that he had al- 
 ready served seven years. I didn't like his resigning 
 at all. He's a fine scholar, a practical man, a brave 
 man, and, though his manner is cold and re- 
 served, and sometimes hard, he is as true and con- 
 scientious a man as ever breathed the breath of life. 
 I know you'll miss him. He was one of your best 
 friends, and by far the most efficient one." 
 
 She felt cold and confused. 
 
 "Mr. Huntley is a very capable man," was all 
 she had strength to say. 
 
 "I suspect that there is something in his mind," 
 said the Doctor, "which he has not seen fit to dis- 
 close. Perhaps his health is not good. He looks 
 bad, very bad. But no sickness ever stopped him 
 before. I don't think his business occupations are 
 in the way. I can't imagine what is the real cause; 
 can you suggest?" 
 
 She could only smile faintly, and answer, "You 
 could hardly expect me to know anything of the 
 matter." 
 
 The old man fixed his keen gray eyes searchingly 
 on her face for two or three seconds ; but then, when 
 she felt herself about to break down, he said : "Of 
 course you are surprised and sorry; and perhaps 
 you fear that he has become unfriendly to you. 
 And such feeling might well put you into the dis- 
 tress you plainly feel. But don't trouble yourself. 
 He fully approves your whole management of the 
 school, and thinks it will do well. So we'll do the 
 best we can. You are right; we shall not do so 
 well as when Huntley was on the board, and you
 
 THE STRANGER 473 
 
 may well regret his resignation. But we'll do what 
 we can ; and I'll tell you " here he rose and looked 
 her full in the face, and grasped her cold, trembling 
 hand with his own large, rough, brown palm "I'll 
 tell you, whatever happens, old Ike Thompson is go- 
 ing to stand by you as long as there's breath in his 
 body. Good-by, my dear. God bless you!" 
 
 And then he pulled on his weather-beaten slouch 
 hat, and went away, stamping heavily, and blowing 
 his nose so energetically that Cindy came running 
 into the house to see what was the matter.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 On the first Monday in October school began. 
 Twenty-one pupils entered at the opening, and there 
 were accessions almost daily for a fortnight, so that 
 at the end of that period there were thirty-two. 
 Jennie Lane came back, bright, merry and affection- 
 ate. Laura Cogburn came, in a right cheerful 
 mood. The Lubecks came too ; and they were much 
 less sour and arrogant than formerly. Charlie Tom- 
 linson was there sprightly and full of fun. Little 
 Minnie Haxwell came, looking comparatively well 
 and active. Jake did not come. His mother had 
 kept him home to pick cotton, as was the case with 
 four other farmer boys. With these exceptions, and 
 with the exception of three new pupils, the school 
 was pretty much the same as it had been, both in 
 number and personnel. 
 
 The pupils conducted themselves as properly as 
 could be expected, but it was soon manifest to the 
 teacher that they felt the loss of Huntley from the 
 board of trustees, and were curious to learn the 
 cause of his quitting it. For several days, and sev- 
 eral times a day, for three or four days, she heard 
 them inquire of one another, and speculate concern- 
 ing it. Finally, a self-appointed committee of the 
 older ones questioned her. She only answered that 
 she had heard nothing beyond the fact of his resig- 
 nation. She recognized the reasonableness of their 
 disquietude; for he had been known as the leading 
 spirit of the board, the most scholarly person in the 
 county, and as careful and just as he was brave and
 
 THE STRANGER 475 
 
 resolute. And the high rank of his family and his 
 own handsome person and graceful bearing added 
 no little to his popularity. His successor was a man 
 of fine intelligence and elevated character, and he 
 was beloved and respected; but with his rough 
 clothing, clumsy figure, and uncouth speech, he 
 could not, in the public mind, be compared with that 
 "combination" and "that form," 
 
 "Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
 To give the world assurance of a man." 
 
 At the end of October, Margaret came, one Sat- 
 urday morning, and, as usual, accepted Eleanor's 
 invitation to sit in her chamber. Eleanor observed 
 a peculiar expression on her friend's face when she 
 met her, and she saw that it remained for several 
 minutes. It was evident that Margaret had some- 
 thing unusual on her mind. Eleanor apprehended 
 that it was connected with Huntley, and therefore 
 became nervous; but she had educated herself not 
 only to meet trouble as soon as it showed itself, but 
 also to anticipate it when it appeared sure to come. 
 And she knew that frankness was a characteristic 
 quality of her friend, and one which that friend ap- 
 preciated highly in others. She, therefore, though 
 with much trepidation, invited Margaret to speak 
 frankly. 
 
 "You have something to say," said she, "which 
 you do not like to say. Pray speak freely. That 
 will probably be best for both of us, however un- 
 comfortable we may be made for the time." 
 
 "Well, dear," returned Margaret, "it is this. 
 Something very serious has occurred with you and 
 William. He has told me nothing, and has declined
 
 476 THE STRANGER 
 
 to answer the questions I have asked him. Now I 
 want to know of you what is the matter. Perhaps 
 I can assist you in adjusting what has gone awry. 
 Surely, I shall not be so awkward or officious as to 
 increase the trouble. Won't you trust me with the 
 full history of your disagreement, or falling out, 
 or whatever it is ?" 
 
 "Margaret," answered Eleanor, "I should hesi- 
 tate to tell so much to my own mother ; but I know 
 you can be trusted to any extent, and in all things. 
 1 shall therefore confide to you the whole story 
 only stipulating that you shall bear in mind that I 
 do this, not because 1 desire to do it, not because I 
 am even willing to do it, but only because it is your 
 wish and your will to be told." 
 
 "I shall be careful to remember that." 
 
 Then she related the occurrences on the cliff at 
 Tallulah Falls, and concluded by saying, "I think 
 that is all that need be told." 
 
 Margaret changed color more than once during 
 the narrative, but offered no comment, and made 
 no suggestion. She asked one question, at the 
 close of the description, "And did he say nothing 
 more?" Then, pale and somewhat agitated, she sat 
 still, and silent, for several minutes. Then she said, 
 in a low voice, "He must love you very much. Of 
 course the excitement of the occasion hurried him 
 into that strange action and that passionate lan- 
 guage; but when a man of his kind is so carried 
 away as that, I think we ought, in bare justice, to 
 exonerate him from all blame. I am very sorry to 
 say it, Eleanor, but I think you were very, very 
 hard to him, and very unlike yourself."
 
 THE STRANGER 477 
 
 The teacher stared at her in amazement, and for 
 a moment had no power of speech. Then she cried : 
 
 "And you condemn me for resenting that conduct 
 on the part of a man whose faith was plighted to 
 you?" 
 
 "Plighted to me ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 "I mean that the man who spoke love to me was 
 the man engaged to be married to you." 
 
 "And how did you come to know that?" 
 
 "No matter," exclaimed Eleanor, "how I came 
 to know the fact. It is the fact that condemns and 
 dishonors him." 
 
 "Suppose," said Margaret, "suppose the fact is 
 not true?" 
 
 "Not true?" 
 
 "It is not true that I am, or have ever been, be- 
 trothed to William Huntley. He has never asked 
 me to marry him. and I have never supposed that 
 he ever would. I should be unhappy to think that 
 he ever had such a purpose or such a wish. I should 
 almost as soon think of marrying a brother, if I 
 had one. Am I plain enough?" 
 
 Eleanor was dumb for a space. Then she mur- 
 mured, "I heard it from several persons from 
 many persons. Almost from the day I came here. 
 I have heard it referred to as a thing generally 
 known." 
 
 "Can you recall its mention by any individual in 
 such relation with him or me as to make it trust- 
 worthy ?" 
 
 "Yes. I have had it from your near relation. 
 Mrs. Williams, and have heard her express her 
 wonder why you two were not already married."
 
 478 THE STRANGER 
 
 It was now Margaret's turn to pause and con- 
 sider. Then she said, "That sounds strange to me. 
 But I have known the like several times." 
 
 Then, after a look at Eleanor's pale face and 
 dazed eyes, she moved to a window, and sat there 
 till the other spoke. 
 
 The feeling of horror which possessed the un- 
 happy woman held her silent for a time ; but then it 
 broke into expression, almost with a cry. 
 
 "And he loved me," she cried, "with an honor- 
 able and noble love! he the proud, wealthy and 
 honored man, and I a penniless, obscure stranger! 
 He risked his life to save mine, and I, the ingrate, 
 infatuated with the idea of my importance, repaid 
 him with scorn and insult! I wish God had let me 
 fall into the chasm, to be dashed to death !" 
 
 Margaret ran to her, and folded her in her arms, 
 crying, "Do not talk so, dear. You break my heart. 
 I understand it. Your loyal love for me has led you 
 to act' as you did. No doubt I should have felt and 
 spoken as you did, in your place. It was an un- 
 fortunate mistake; but you are not warranted in 
 despairing. We will think over the matter, and see 
 what to do." 
 
 "There is a solution of the matter," said the 
 teacher. "I can resign the school, go to my home, 
 and relieve the people here from all further trouble 
 with me and my affairs." 
 
 "That will never do!" cried Margaret. "You 
 must not think of it. If I have any claim to your 
 consideration, you must hear my protest against 
 any such action." 
 
 "God knows," said Eleanor, "that I love and 
 honor you, and that I wish most earnestly to have
 
 THE STRANGER 479 
 
 you approve of all I do. But what else can I do? 
 What other way is there out of this horrible embar- 
 rassment?" 
 
 "I cannot undertake to say, at this moment," an- 
 swered Margaret. "But you need do nothing just 
 now. Let us take a little time to think over the 
 matter. My mind is confused, just as yours is. But 
 in a week or two, perhaps sooner, we shall, I hope 
 and believe, discover what is best to do." 
 
 Then she kissed Eleanor and, without further 
 speech, went away.
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 The Indian summer, the peculiar possession of 
 the South Atlantic States, has never been painted 
 with any approach to accuracy, because the land 
 where it prevails has not been the home of any land- 
 scape artist. When that artist comes he will give 
 the world a different picture from any colored by 
 Claude of Loraine, or by Salvator Rosa, or by 
 Ruysdael, but one deserving to rank with the best 
 works of anv of the three one without the mellow- 
 ness of the French painter, without the sharp out- 
 lines of the Italian, without the bald gloom of the 
 Hollander, but combining richness and distinctness 
 and strength and sweetness in perfect harmony. 
 
 This delightful season in the year 1873 enabled 
 the teacher to endure both her toil and her trouble 
 as she could hardly have done in a sultry summer. 
 It strengthened and refreshed her, and quieted her 
 mind. But one of the chief annoyances at home 
 was the singing by day and by night, of the negroes. 
 In the earlier time of her residence here she had 
 been amused, but after suffering for months the 
 repetition of howls, groans, and whoops, which con- 
 stituted much the greater part of the performances, 
 and knowing the vagrancy, dishonesty, and utter 
 depravity of these songsters, she experienced only 
 disgust on hearing them. 
 
 Cindy made the day vocal with her hymns, piped 
 out in a shrill, piercing treble from which no place 
 or distance afforded escape. And as time went on 
 this singing seemed to grow louder and to become
 
 THE STRANGER 481 
 
 more constant, until it seemed that she was never 
 silent except in the house. In her own cabin, in the 
 kitchen, which was forty or fifty feet distant from 
 Mr. Williams's dwelling, in the garden, in the 
 yard, the screeching went on. Sometimes, at night, 
 she introduced a new feature by having a prayer- 
 meeting in her house, at which some one put up 
 very loud and rapid petitions, and a chorus of voices 
 chanted doleful melodies. The Squire predicted 
 that something undesirable would follow these per- 
 formances, saying, "Whenever the darkies get par- 
 ticularly religious there is devilment fixing for some- 
 body." ' 
 
 On Friday night the prayer-meeting was very 
 long and animated. The next day Cindy fairly 
 screamed her hymns. One of these she repeated 
 many times during the day, the chorus, as she sang, 
 being : 
 
 "I'm boun' fur de promuss la a n' : 
 I'm boun' fur de promuss Ian'. 
 Oh, who will come an' go wid me? 
 I'm boun' fur de promuss Ian' !" 
 
 She also trilled several times during that day 
 an odd rendering of the old hymn "When I can read 
 my title clear," with the refrain "I feel like I'm on 
 my journey home" so stretched out by repetition 
 as to fill a good many bars. 
 
 A third piece was one which declared that she 
 would not go to hell with her brother and sister, but 
 inquired if they would not go with her to a better 
 place. 
 
 No voice of song or prayer was heard in Cindy's 
 house that night, nor Sunday morning. No Cindy 
 31
 
 482 THE STRANGER 
 
 came to bring- the teacher water in the morning. The 
 Squire's wife herself summoned the teacher to 
 breakfast. Cindy and her "man" had departed dur- 
 ing the darkness, without warning or announce- 
 ment, and left Mrs. Williams to prepare the break- 
 fast. The Squire's only remark was, "I suspected 
 that Cindy was getting too full of religion to attend 
 to the worldly business of cooking." 
 
 Seeing Mrs. Williams set upon the table a plate 
 of waffles, when the three met in the dining-room, 
 and seeing also the tired look on her face, now 
 flushed by the heat of the stove, Eleanor exclaimed : 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Williams, why did you not let me 
 know the situation?" 
 
 "Oh, my dear," returned the little woman, "how 
 could I? You are a boarder here." 
 
 "This is not my boarding-house, but my home," 
 cried Eleanor. "And I'm so sorry you would not 
 call on me to help you. But I will do it, whether 
 you wish it or not. I'll cook the waffles." 
 
 "Oh no ! I can't think of it." 
 
 "I know all about waffles," continued Eleanor, 
 "They were a new thing to me, so I learned how to 
 make them, and sent the recipe to mamma, who en- 
 joys them as much as I do. You know I have made 
 them here, several times." 
 
 "Yes," admitted the guileless lady; "and made 
 them beautifully." 
 
 "Now I'll show you what a cook I am. Sit 
 down." 
 
 "But, my dear" 
 
 "Mrs. Williams," cried Eleanor, "if I can't cook, 
 I won't eat. I declare I will not eat a morsel unless 
 I'm allowed to cook the waffles."
 
 THE STRANGER 483 
 
 "But, my child " remonstrated the lawyer. 
 
 "Mr. Williams," said the teacher, looking- him 
 full in the eyes, though laughing, "you know I keep 
 my word; and you know I am pretty obstinate." 
 
 "So you do; and so you are," returned he, rub- 
 bing his chin and looking perplexed. 
 
 "Then it's settled. Take your seats at the table.'' 
 
 The two old people looked at each other, and then, 
 yielding, they sat down. 
 
 "Say grace," cried Eleanor, with a laugh. "The 
 cook remains standing." 
 
 The Squire hurried through his usual form of 
 words; Eleanor snatched up a plate, and hastened 
 to the kitchen, and the thing was done. 
 
 Margaret Mason told the teacher, a few days 
 later, that the lawyer in describing the occurrence 
 to her and her mother, added, "And by the Lord, 
 that beautiful, bright, headstrong girl beat both of 
 us and gave us the finest waffles that man ever ate." 
 
 The old gentleman and his wife were very grate- 
 ful to the teacher for the assistance she gave them 
 in what he called their "cookless days," and in a 
 week from Cindy's departure another cook was se- 
 cured. This person, calling herself Talitha, mani- 
 fested little interest in religious matters, but she 
 cooked fairly well and stayed at home.
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 One afternoon, about the middle of November, 
 when the teacher sat in her chamber, Margaret came 
 to her, bearing a verbal invitation to a tea-drinking 
 at Dr. Thompson's on the evening of the following 
 day. Eleanor instantly began an excuse for de- 
 clining, but her friend promptly put an end to the 
 effort by announcing that two considerations com- 
 pelled her acceptance, one of them being that she 
 was expected to meet there two Misses Burnaby, 
 nieces of Mrs. Lubeck who were visiting the village, 
 and the other that it was to be, as she expressed it, 
 a "semi-official function," as the school trustees and 
 their families were among the guests invited, and 
 the Doctor intended to entertain the teacher as 
 handsomely as he could. Margaret concluded by 
 saying, "I shall come for you in my carriage, at six 
 o'clock sharp, and make sure of at least two guests 
 being on time for an informal entertainment." 
 
 The two friends, who arrived soonest of all, met, 
 at the quiet little home of the old physician and his 
 meek wife, the Misses Burnaby hearty, vivacious 
 and handsome young women and also Mr. Cog- 
 burn and his inquisitive, tactless wife; Mrs. Lubeck 
 and her stolid husband, Colonel Tomlinson and his 
 slender, nervous consort; Colonel Jenkins, "Cap'n" 
 Vaughn, Mr. Boiler, the singing merchant, and a 
 Miss Agnew. The wife and adopted daughter of 
 the Doctor received the guests, the Doctor having 
 been called to an urgent case out of town. 
 
 After some conversation and two duets by the
 
 THE STRANGER . 485 
 
 sisters Burnaby, the meal was served on trays by 
 two smartly dressed young negresses, the guests 
 using small, square, four-legged tables, known in 
 old days as "tete-a-tetes," on account of their being 
 sufficient for only two persons, and otherwise called 
 "quartettes," in consequence of four of them, fitting 
 one into another, constituting a set. These articles 
 of furniture were formerly seen in almost all well- 
 furnished parlors in the South, but are now rarely 
 found except in the lumber-room. 
 
 In the midst of the tea-drinking Dr. Thompson 
 and Huntley entered the room together, and 
 abruptly, as if in haste to keep an appointment. The 
 Doctor was in his usual ill-fitting and not very mod- 
 ern or neat garb ; but Huntley was in evening dress. 
 All the company started, but none of the others so 
 violently as Eleanor. She had hoped to be spared 
 the trial of meeting William Huntley face to face 
 again, and his tardiness had assured her that she 
 was safe this evening. To her intense mortification, 
 she dropped the spoon in her glass of sherbet on the 
 tete-a-tete with a very distinct rattle. The elder 
 Miss Burnaby, however, who was her vis-a-vis, 
 promptly picked it up and returned it to her, saying, 
 "These gentlemen take no thought of women's 
 nerves. I came very near biting my spoon in two. 
 And I think I bit my tongue also." 
 
 Huntley, after shaking hands with Mrs. Thomp- 
 son and Miss Thompson, and speaking a few words 
 to them in a low tone, came across to where the 
 teacher and her companion sat, bowed to the 
 former, shook hands with the latter, made some ex- 
 cuse for not having called on the two sisters, which 
 Eleanor only half heard, and passed on to the
 
 486 THE STRANGER 
 
 younger sister, near whom he took a chair, and con- 
 versed for some time with her and Vaughn. 
 
 Afterward there was more music. Eleanor played 
 a selection on the piano, and sang twice alone and 
 once with Margaret. Mr. Boiler performed a bass 
 solo very well, and he and the Misses Burnaby sang 
 several times together. Huntley sat looking out 
 into the darkness through an open window (the 
 evening being rather warm), by which he had re- 
 mained for the last hour or more. 
 
 All the ladies gathered by degrees around the 
 piano, and all of the men gradually collected around 
 Huntley, at the window on the opposite side of the 
 room. After a while Mrs. Thompson informed El- 
 eanor, in a whisper, that one Henry Cranford, living 
 a mile or more beyond Huntley's plantation, had 
 been shot and killed late in the afternoon of that 
 day, and that the Doctor and Huntley had stayed 
 with him till he died. She added that the Doctor 
 had informed her that it was doubtful whether 
 Cranford had committed suicide, or shot himself 
 by accident, or been killed by some other person. 
 
 The gentlemen, without intending to be heard 
 by the ladies, spoke more loudly as their discussion 
 progressed. Finally, Eleanor heard Colonel Jen- 
 kins say : 
 
 "I think Henry was too brave a man to kill him- 
 self. He was one of the best in my regiment." 
 
 "I took him to be a man of much courage," said 
 Huntley; "but a man of courage may commit sui- 
 cide. Saul was a brave man. So was Hannibal. 
 So was Mithridates though he failed of his pur- 
 pose. So was Marcus Brutus. So was Hugh Mil- 
 ler. So was Frederick the Great, who would, no
 
 THE STRANGER 487 
 
 doubt, have taken poison if he had lost the cam- 
 paign of 1756-7. Colonel McClung, of Mississippi, 
 was a very brave man. And there were brave men 
 among the four or five hundred Jews who commit- 
 ted that wholesale suicide at York, in the reign of 
 Richard I, of England. How many of those men 
 were there, Doctor?" 
 
 "God knows !" cried Doctor Thompson. "I dont. 
 I wouldn't mind if there had been five hundred thou- 
 sand of them." 
 
 At this all the men laughed except Huntley. He 
 did not change countenance, but continued : "It has 
 been generally conceded that the brave spirits in 
 that gathering of persecuted men were those who 
 died by their own hands rather than encounter, cer- 
 tainly slaughter and, probably, torture, at the hands 
 of their besiegers." 
 
 "Suicide is a mortal sin," suggested Colonel Tom- 
 linson. 
 
 "Shakespeare," replied Huntley, "has Hamlet say 
 that the Almighty has 'set his canon 'gainst self- 
 slaughter' ; but I do not find such a prohibition in 
 the Bible." 
 
 "It is murder," declared Colonel Tomlinson. 
 
 "That is the convenient phrase usually employed 
 to stop discussion," said Huntley. "But self-killing 
 lacks the chief and essential element of that crime 
 malice; for in taking one's own life one meditates 
 no harm to himself, but a bettering of his condi- 
 tion at least 'surcease from sorrow/ to use Poe's 
 expression. The sin if there be any in it is that 
 of deserting the post of duty to which every one, by 
 being placed in the world, is assigned. That sin is 
 most horrible and dishonorable, when one forsakes
 
 488 THE STRANGER 
 
 his comrades in misfortune, and leaves them es- 
 pecially those who are weak and dependent to suf- 
 fer alone. And I cannot find any excuse for such 
 a desertion of duty by a Southern man, in the pres- 
 ent woful condition of our people. At the same 
 time, I can imagine a very brave man, and a very 
 true one, so wretched and so hopeless as to feel jus- 
 tified in quitting this life, by almost any means ex- 
 cept dishonorable ones." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Vaughn, "do you think Henry 
 committed suicide?" 
 
 "No ; there was no cause for it, so far as I know. 
 He was comfortably situated. He was fond of his 
 wife and children, and he was a cheerful person." 
 
 "Is there reason to suspect that some one shot 
 him." 
 
 "I think not," answered Huntley. "The range 
 of the ball and the powder-burn on his flesh and 
 clothing show that the rifle or pistol by which he 
 was shot was held very close to him, and below his 
 face, for the ball ranged from his lower jaw into his 
 brain. And the flesh and his collar were much 
 burned. So the muzzle of the rifle or pistol must 
 have been close to him, and below his face. Now 
 he was sitting, when shot, on a stump, by the side 
 of the road, not far from his house, as the stream of 
 blood showed. He had a forty-four caliber revol- 
 ver, which lay on the ground beside him where he 
 was found. Three chambers were empty. I think 
 he shot himself, by accident. But," continued Hunt- 
 ley, changing his tone, "this is no fit subject for 
 conversation at a pleasure party. Whither were you 
 riding, Mark Vaughn, on Tuesday evening when I 
 met you? You had Bucephalus in a gallop."
 
 THE STRANGER 489 
 
 "Oh," answered Marcus Aurelius, "I was hast- 
 ing to fill an appointment for early tea at Mrs. Hay- 
 blow's. Her kinswoman, charming Miss Prewitt, 
 is there." 
 
 "Oho ! I did not dream that you were 'on pleasure 
 bent' ; your face was very serious." 
 
 "To be sure," returned "Cap'n" Vaughn. "I was 
 thinking up nice things to say to the young lady." 
 
 "For example " 
 
 "Well, I composed a couplet 
 
 " 'Whoever meets Miss Prewitt 
 Will encounter very true wit.' " 
 
 "Aha! And you repeated it to her, or in her 
 hearing, of course. And, of course, it pleased her." 
 
 "Yes, dear boy. Only she er laughed a little 
 more than I thought she need have done. She's 
 such a sharp one that I ah don't always feel sure 
 exactly what she means. A keen wit she has." 
 
 " 'Whose edge hath power to cut,' " suggested 
 Huntley. "Perhaps you have some experience of 
 that edge. 
 
 "Ah well I don't know." 
 
 "Come, come, Mr. Vaughn," interposed Mar- 
 garet, "you have such an experience; and you must 
 tell us about it." 
 
 "Dear me!" cried the little man. "You are so 
 brusque and rapid, Miss Margaret." 
 
 "You aren't afraid to tell it, Mr. Vaughn ?" asked 
 Margaret. 
 
 "Well ah I don't know that the fair damsel 
 means all that a ah a sensitive fellow might sus- 
 pect; but " 
 
 "But you have no doubt about one speech of hers,
 
 490 THE STRANGER 
 
 at least; and if you refuse to tell us we shall suspect 
 that she cut you deeper than you are willing to 
 own." 
 
 "Well, then," cried Vaughn, desperately, "if a 
 fellow is to be persecuted, he'd best tell the thing. 
 I don't know, mind you, that she intended to make 
 fun of me; but there was one thing that I couldn't 
 quite understand because everybody laughed so. 
 It was this way. I described to her the pleasures of 
 this autumn season, and among others bird-shoot- 
 ing." 
 
 "Whereby," put in Huntley, "she wished to learn 
 particulars." 
 
 "So she did. And I tried to describe." 
 
 "Whereby?" continued Huntley, very gravely. 
 
 "Whereby I related experiences, and finally told 
 of the only hunt I have had this fall." 
 
 "Whereby she wished to know the result?" 
 
 "Whereby I told how I found a covey of par- 
 tridges, flushed them, fired both barrels of my gun, 
 killed none, but fell into a gully, sprained one of my 
 ankles, and limped back home." 
 
 "Whereby she said" 
 
 "Whereby she exclaimed, 'Oh, most lame and im- 
 potent conclusion !' ' 
 
 "Well," inquired Huntley. 
 
 "Well, everybody laughed boisterously." 
 
 And all the company, except the narrator, 
 laughed. 
 
 Mr. Vaughn looked from one to another, in be- 
 wilderment. At length, as was his custom when em- 
 barrassed, he appealed to Huntley. 
 
 "Ah William," said he, "was that meant for 
 sarcasm or something of that sort?"
 
 THE STRANGER 491 
 
 "Oh, no, Marcus," answered Huntley. "She only 
 happened to recall Desdemona's words in thinking 
 of your crippled condition after your fall." 
 
 "You are a dear boy !" exclaimed the little man, 
 gratefully. 
 
 And then no one laughed. It was a little thing; 
 but all of them evidently recognized in Huntley's 
 words and tone of voice that magnanimity which 
 rendered him always the friend of the distressed, 
 and the defender of the one against the many. To 
 the teacher the incident had far more significance 
 than to the others, for it recalled to her that he had 
 befriended her when no other cared, and when he 
 was under no obligation to care, and that, after she 
 had grossly wronged him, he bore the wrong in si- 
 lence, and retired from his position of authority in 
 order to relieve her of embarrassment. And she 
 could never repay his kindness, nor ever undo the 
 wrong she had done, nor ever make atonement! 
 
 In driving to her lodging, Eleanor observed that 
 a roof had been erected over the formerly black 
 walls of the burned Episcopal church, and inquired 
 about it. 
 
 "Yes," said Margaret, "we put workmen on it 
 just before we started on our mountain excursion. 
 It is now covered and floored ; and we hope to have 
 pews, chancel, altar and the other necessary furnish- 
 ing placed, within a fortnight or so." 
 
 "You told me nothing of it," said Eleanor, hurt 
 at being ignored in the restoration of a church where 
 she would be expected to worship, and intending 
 that Margaret should know it. 
 
 "Well, my dear," returned Margaret, in her 
 usual frank, simple manner, "some of the members
 
 492 THE STRANGER 
 
 thought that you ought to be told, and invited to 
 contribute to the expense; but mamma and I 
 thought, and said, that it would not be quite fair 
 to you, and that we should tax you heavily enough 
 in having you hereafter to assist in paying a rector's 
 salary and other expenses of maintenance. For the 
 same reasons or rather one of our reasons we 
 have not called on several of the congregation. In- 
 deed, mamma, William, Colonel Tomlinson, Col- 
 onel Jenkins, Mr. Lubeck, and I are to pay the cost 
 of the repairs." 
 
 "I should have been glad to help, to the extent of 
 my ability," said Eleanor, endeavoring to show no 
 annoyance. 
 
 "Of course. We all knew that. You know, don't 
 you, that however other persons might feel about it, 
 mamma and I would never have consented to any- 
 thing, by commission or omission, that involved 
 slighting you?" 
 
 "Yes. I am glad to feel sure of that." 
 
 "Well, then, you are not to feel slighted, you dear, 
 proud, sensitive thing!" 
 
 "Well, I must not, and shall not," cried Eleanor, 
 as bravely as she could. "And I beg your pardon 
 for using a word or tone of complaint. But you 
 know I I am very foolish of late." 
 
 Margaret could not see the tears that came to the 
 teacher's eyes, but she heard them in her voice, and 
 promptly caught her in her arms, saying, as she 
 held her face against her own, "You must not talk 
 that way, nor feel that way, my sweet Eleanor. 
 Nothing is too good for you; and if you will only 
 keep a brave heart, and endure your trouble, for a 
 season, you are sure to come to peace and serenity
 
 THE STRANGER 493 
 
 of mind. God will not suffer one to suffer long for 
 a single honest mistake, especially when one's action 
 is the result of heroic loyalty to a friend. Would it 
 do you any good, dear, to know that I pray daily 
 and nightly, and many times in a day, and in every 
 waking hour of the night, for your welfare and 
 cheerfulness of mind? My faith tells me that those 
 prayers though you deserved them far less than 
 you do will not utterly fail." 
 
 "God bless and reward you!" sobbed Eleanor, 
 surrendering herself to that indulgence in weeping 
 which is often not merely the alleviation but the 
 luxury of woe. When they parted, she was able to 
 say, "I think I shall rest better to-night than I have 
 rested for weeks ; for waking I shall feel enveloped 
 in your prayers, and I shall hear in my dreams the 
 music of your voice making intercession for me."
 
 CHAPTER XLHI 
 
 The violent death of Henry Cranford caused ex- 
 citement in the village and in the adjacent country, 
 as the teacher found on entering the public square 
 the following afternoon. She saw in the open square 
 and on the sidewalks a considerable number of white 
 men, most of whom talked with earnestness, and 
 also a good many negro men and women, who spoke 
 to one another in low tones, and looked angry and 
 sullen. 
 
 Both gatherings being just beyond the Cogburn 
 store, she thought it advisable to enter there, to do 
 the shopping for which she came. She was told by 
 one of the clerks that this coming together of per- 
 sons of both races was supposed to be the result of 
 the arrest and temporary confinement in the village 
 guard-house of a negro named Alf Goode, charged 
 with the murder of Henry Cranford. 
 
 After making her purchases, she seated herself 
 on a stool near the door to wait until the excitement 
 was over. 
 
 Presently William Huntley rode among the white 
 men who were nearest the store, and said, not 
 loudly, but distinctly: 
 
 "Surely you men of intelligence, always loyal to 
 the law, do not purpose to interfere with the opera- 
 tion of the law in this case." 
 
 "Who said anything about interfering with the 
 law?" inquired a man, in a surly tone. 
 
 "Abram Giles, I do not have to be told. I know 
 that men in this crowd are discussing whether they
 
 THE STRANGER 495 
 
 shall intercept the deputy sheriff and his prisoner, on 
 the way to the railroad station, and lynch the pris- 
 oner." 
 
 "I'd like to know how you know so much," said 
 another. 
 
 "Caleb Perkins, do you imagine I have no infor- 
 mation concerning the matter, or that I cannot put 
 two and two together?" 
 
 "Nobody ain't teched Alf Goode, nor done noth- 
 in'," cried a third. 
 
 "That kind of talk isn't worth a cent," cried 
 Huntley, impatiently. "Probably no one in this 
 crowd intends to be present when the deed is done. 
 I presume that it will be the work of other men, 
 who will be masked, and otherwise disguised. But 
 some of you are to notify them when the officer and 
 prisoner leave here, and of the road they take to the 
 station ; for there are, you know, three ways to that 
 point. Your plan might have succeeded, if you had 
 not let too many into the secret. But you, fortu- 
 nately, were imprudent, and the result is that you 
 have a crowd here expecting the tragedy." 
 
 "I never knowed nothin' 'bout it," cried a fourth. 
 
 "I believe you, Adam Hartman," returned Hunt- 
 ley. "And I do not think that you would take part 
 in such a crime if you could prevent it." 
 
 "That nigger ought to be hung, or shot," ex- 
 claimed a rough, large, untidy man. "He's mur- 
 dered Henry Cranford; an' they'll git a nigger jury 
 an' a radical jedge to try him; an' he'll come scot 
 free." 
 
 "If your prediction is correct," said Huntley, 
 ''that does not warrant the murder of the man ; and
 
 496 THE STRANGER 
 
 all of you know as well as I, that lynching is always 
 murder." 
 
 "I don't know what business it is of yours," 
 shouted a fellow at some distance. 
 
 "But I'll make it my business. Men of this 
 county shall not violate the law, and commit mur- 
 der, and bring shame and trouble to the community, 
 if I can prevent it. Where is Joe Atkins, the dep- 
 uty sheriff?" 
 
 A large, fat, awkward man, who seemed to have 
 been sitting on the ground near the front door of 
 the store, now stood up, saying: 
 
 "What do you want with me, Mr. Huntley?" 
 
 "I want you, and I charge you, to take care that 
 your prisoner suffers no harm between this place 
 and the county jail. You are bound to defend him, 
 at the peril of your life." 
 
 The man looked confused, and mumbled, "I 
 dunno what to do." 
 
 "Confound you!" shouted Huntley. "You're as 
 great disgrace to the State as the vilest carpetbagger 
 that ever robbed it. You scalawags are the worst 
 of all, anyhow." 
 
 This angry speech pleased the men ; most of them 
 laughed and some cheered. Eleanor saw that Hunt- 
 ley had not expected that result, and was somewhat 
 disconcerted. 
 
 . "Joe Atkins, I demand that you take measures 
 to meet the violence threatening your prisoner," he 
 continued. "You are perfectly aware of the danger 
 before you in attempting to carry him to jail. You 
 cannot face it alone. One resolute man could take 
 him from you. You must summon a posse to. de- 
 fend him."
 
 THE STRANGER 497 
 
 "Who'll serve on a posse with me?" growled the 
 man. "I can't git nothin' but niggers ; an' they 
 ain't gwine to stand." 
 
 "Suppose you summon me," said Huntley. 
 
 "You! Good Lord!" 
 
 And several in the crowd echoed the last two 
 words. 
 
 "Yes, me." 
 
 "Well, then, I do," said Atkins, with a very fool- 
 ish look, and in a very weak voice. 
 
 "Good !" cried Huntley. "Now, my friends, you 
 know exactly what is ahead of those who attempt 
 to lynch Goode, or if there is any sign of violence 
 on the way. Well, Atkins, shall we start?" 
 
 All faces were very serious, and there was a pro- 
 found silence. Huntley alone appeared to be at his 
 ease. To the teacher he was handsomer and greater 
 than she had ever seen him, and his chief beauty 
 was the calm expression of his face the face of one 
 performing a dangerous duty, unconscious of any 
 merit in so doing, and as indifferent to men's ad- 
 miration as he was to the danger. 
 
 Atkins was silent. He looked one way and an- 
 other, shuffled from one foot to the other, drew from 
 a pocket a large piece of tobacco, bit off a quid, 
 chewed it, spat on the ground, and then gave a loud, 
 deep, long-drawn sigh. 
 
 "Well!" said Huntley, moving his belt a little 
 forward, and showing the butt of a Colt's repeater 
 in doing so. 
 
 "I'm obleeged to you, Mr. Huntley," returned 
 the deputy. "But I ain't ready to start jist now. 
 I'll let you know when I git ready to go." 
 32
 
 498 THE STRANGER 
 
 "Now, Joe Atkins, I want you to understand me, 
 and to know your own duty. I have offered to as- 
 sist you in enforcing the law; you have accepted 
 my offer, and put me on your posse. I am ready 
 to remove the prisoner; you tell me that you are 
 not ready, but will let me know when you are. If 
 you make the pretense of carrying that man to jail, 
 in my absence, and he is killed or injured on the 
 way, I shall not only prosecute you, but I shall use 
 every effort to disgrace you with your party and 
 with both races." 
 
 " 'Fore God !" exclaimed Atkins, "I'll do as you 
 want me." 
 
 It was evident that the one brave and conscienti- 
 ous man had prevailed. The crowds dispersed in a 
 few minutes, without further public demonstration, 
 and there that matter ended. 
 
 It was hoped, and thought, that Alf Goode would 
 be carried to the county jail at once, and that, what- 
 ever the legal authorities might do concerning him, 
 there would be no further trouble in Cherenden. 
 The teacher, therefore, felt safe in accompanying 
 Mrs. Williams, on the morning of the next day, Sat- 
 urday, on a shopping tour. They saw a large num- 
 ber of negroes, of each sex, about the square, but 
 recollecting that Saturday always brought many of 
 them to town, they paid no attention to the crowd. 
 At length, when about to leave Mr. Boiler's dry- 
 goods store, that gentleman suggested that they be 
 careful to guard against contact with the negro 
 women, because the women, always more insolent 
 and aggressive than the men, were in high excite- 
 ment over the proposition to take Alf Goode from
 
 THE STRANGER 499 
 
 custody. Eleanor said that they had supposed that 
 the prisoner had been removed to the county-seat. 
 
 "He has not," said Boiler, "but is still in the vil- 
 lage guard-house. Joe Atkins got drunk soon after 
 the row yesterday, and hasn't been seen in public 
 since. I think that the negroes feel sure that he 
 will not resist a rescue, and suspect that he keeps the 
 man here to give them the opportunity." 
 
 The merchant's advice came rather late ; for the 
 two ladies had not reached the limit of the square 
 when the dusky mass in front of them, on some un- 
 seen impulse, surged over the pavement and com- 
 pletely occupied it. On the advice of a white citizen 
 they retreated into the shop of Abram Schwanzen- 
 berg, a Jew, whom they found so excited that he 
 was hardly able to inquire if he could sell them 
 "somedings." A multitude of voices soon made 
 manifest the purpose to rescue Alf Goode, some 
 because otherwise he would be lynched, some be- 
 cause he was innocent, some because his arrest was 
 the result of "devilment," as they called it, of his 
 white enemies. Mrs. Williams pointed to a large, 
 ill-dressed, ill-featured white man in the crowd, 
 saying, "That is Zeke Taylor, William Huntley's 
 enemy, and a leader among the negroes." And 
 then she indicated a tall and rather dignified negro, 
 who was well dressed, and spoke with authority, 
 whom she described as full brother to Mrs. Mason's 
 butler Scipio, and holding the ofBce of county com- 
 missioner. 
 
 Schwanzenberg's store was at the northeast cor- 
 ner of the open square, and its side windows looked 
 out on a street, running eastward, which led to 
 Squire Williams's residence, and though only thir-
 
 500 THE STRANGER 
 
 ty feet wide, including the sidewalks, was one of the 
 main thoroughfares of the village. The guard- 
 house was on this street, about eighty feet 
 from the square, and opposite the back end of 
 the store. On looking through a side window, 
 Eleanor saw that this street, down to and beyond the 
 guard-house, was filled with people, among whom 
 she perceived no white faces. The village lockup 
 was held by the two town marshals, not as a guard 
 over the prisoner, but for the protection of the vil- 
 lage property. 
 
 Presently she recognized the strong, deep voice 
 of Colonel Jenkins, and looking toward the entrance 
 of the street, saw the Colonel seated on his tall horse 
 Jeb, the rider's face very much flushed, and his horse 
 wet with perspiration. 
 
 "What do you rabble mean by raising this noise 
 and blocking the street ?" he cried angrily. No one 
 answered. 
 
 "I hear," continued the horseman, "that you are 
 fixing to rescue that buzzard Alf Goode. Give up 
 that fool project, and behave yourselves." 
 
 The crowd was silent. 
 
 "Where's William Huntley?" cried the Colonel. 
 "He and I can clear up this crowd without any 
 help." 
 
 "Here he comes !" shouted a white boy. 
 
 In two or three seconds Huntley joined the Col- 
 onel. Eleanor observed that Delta was flecked 
 with foam and breathed hard. 
 
 "Good morning, Colonel Jenkins," said Huntley. 
 "Can't you persuade these people to get about their 
 business? I hear that some lawless fellows talk of 
 taking Alf Goode out of the hands of the law.
 
 THE STRANGER 501 
 
 Alick Mason," continued he, addressing the tall 
 negro, "you ought to have sense enough, if not 
 enough decency, to stop this thing as you can." 
 
 "I ain't got nothin' to do with it, Mr. Huntley," 
 replied the negro sulkily. 
 
 "Well," cried Huntley, "whether that's true or 
 not, you'd best stop this crowd. Somebody will be 
 hurt, if this thing goes on, and it may happen that 
 you yourself will get a rap." 
 
 The voice in which these words were spoken and 
 the flashing eyes of the speaker, convinced many 
 of the mob that there was mortal danger in their un- 
 dertaking, and a score or more of those near Hunt- 
 ley edged back into the open square. 
 
 "Why, Mars William," said an old negro, taking 
 off his hat, and bowing obsequiously, "you said yo'- 
 se'f as how Alf wa'n't guilty. An' we all seen you 
 protect him yistiddy." 
 
 "Tom," returned Huntley, "you know very well 
 that Alf's guilt or innocence has nothing to do with 
 this matter. He is in the hands of the law, arrested 
 by the deputy sheriff in pursuance of a warrant is- 
 sued by a magistrate, upon the oath of a citizen." 
 
 "Well," said Tom, "it's 'twixt de deputy sheriff, 
 Mr. Atkins, and we all." 
 
 "Not at all. Joe Atkins represents the law of the 
 land, and has no personal duty or authority. Where 
 is Atkins, by the way ?" 
 
 "Dar him," cried another negro, pointing across 
 the street. 
 
 "Oho !" shouted Colonel Jenkins. "Here you are 
 at last, Joe!" The deputy now straightened his 
 huge, fat body, and answered : 
 
 "Yes, I am. What have you got to say about it ?"
 
 502 THE STRANGER 
 
 "I've got this to say," roared the Colonel, "that 
 you are d d cowardly sneak; and I wish to God 
 you'd give me a reasonable excuse for breaking 
 your head !" 
 
 The intendant of the village for it was incor- 
 porated, and had its municipal government now 
 came pushing his way from the guard-house. His 
 name was James Thurber. He was a young man, 
 but a veteran Confederate soldier. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Intendant," said Huntley, half laugh- 
 ing, "I'm glad to see that you escaped asphyxiation 
 in that odoriferous mob about the lockup. What 
 can we do to help you ?" 
 
 "I have been holding the guard-house," answered 
 Thurber. "It is in no danger, I think, since the 
 marshals and I clubbed five or six who tried to force 
 an entrance. But these people still block up the 
 street." 
 
 "Do you want the way opened?" asked Huntley, 
 with a peculiar smile, which of itself caused the 
 negroes near him to move from the driveway. 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 "Well, you can appoint a special police, I should 
 think. You might see fit to put Colonel Jenkins 
 and Tom Jernigan and me on that work." 
 
 "Good!" 'cried the intendant. And then he 
 shouted, "I appoint William Huntley, Samuel Jen- 
 kins, and Thomas Jernigan special policemen to 
 clear this street." 
 
 Immediately Huntley snatched a heavy riding- 
 whip from a white man on horseback near him, 
 Colonel Jenkins took a walking cane from a white 
 man on foot, and Jernigan grasped by the end a 
 bludgeon already in his hands, and then the three
 
 THE STRANGER 503 
 
 moved forward, the impatience of Delta carrying 
 Huntley in advance of Jenkins and Jernigan. 
 
 The crowd just in front of them, with the excep- 
 tion of four loiterers, retired promptly to the side- 
 walks. These four Huntley touched lightly with 
 the tip of his whip, saying, "Get out of the way; 
 you heard the order!" 
 
 The men retired. But behind them, at the dis- 
 tance of ten or twelve feet, stood a dense body of 
 negroes, with Zeke Taylor, the white man, and 
 Alick Mason, the negro, in front. 
 
 "Give way !" cried Huntley. 
 
 "Go to hell!" shouted Taylor, drawing a pistol. 
 
 In an instant Huntley spurred Delta forward, 
 and in another instant, while Taylor dodged the 
 animal, he rained blows on his shoulders and arms 
 with the whip. The man dropped his pistol, and 
 turned to flee, but in doing so he fell. Huntley 
 took care to hold his horse off him, but as the 
 fellow scrambled on all-fours toward the sidewalk, 
 he plied him with all the force of that right arm 
 whose power Zeke Taylor had twice before expe- 
 rienced. The spectacle of this creature, not daring 
 to use his weapon, but crawling on hands and knees 
 in abject terror, so amused Huntley that he burst 
 into a loud ringing laugh, and held his hand while 
 the man was still in his power. Even the negroes 
 saw the ludicrousness of the scene; and many of 
 them laughed. 
 
 "Gosh!" exclaimed one of them. "Mr. Huntley 
 mos' cut his clo'es off!" 
 
 "Lord, yes !" said another. "I done got outer de 
 way o' dat man soon's I seed him a-comin'." 
 
 At the same time that Huntley encountered Tay-
 
 504 THE STRANGER 
 
 lor, Colonel Jenkins found the negro Alick barring 
 his way, and flourishing a stick. The Colonel called 
 to him to "clear the track!" but the negro caught 
 his bridle reins and struck at his horse's head. With 
 a fearful oath, the veteran Confederate sabreur 
 warded off the stroke and in an instant, though at 
 the disadvantage of striking to the left, dealt the 
 negro a sounding blow on the head. The man 
 reeled, but struck out again viciously and vigorously, 
 bruising the horse's neck. Jenkins turned his horse 
 so as to have his adversary on his right, and then 
 brought down his heavy hickory stick on the negro's 
 hatless head, with all the strength of his long, power- 
 ful arm. The man dropped senseless to the ground, 
 and was dragged by his friends to the sidewalk. 
 
 Thomas Jernigan, who was a very kind-hearted 
 man, was reluctant to exert his mighty muscles on 
 the crowd, and contented himself with tapping those 
 in his reach just enough to remind them of the force 
 which would be used when necessary. All within 
 the swing of his bludgeon profited by the warning, 
 and gave back to the sidewalk, except one large, 
 hideous, ragged, filthy fellow, who cursed the far- 
 mer and called him "poor white trash," and added 
 a foul epithet. Then the farmer spurred his mule 
 to where the negro stood, beat down, as if it were 
 a straw, the negro's upraised club, and laid the man 
 low with a blow that would have stunned a rhinoc- 
 eros. 
 
 At this moment, while the wildest disorder pre- 
 vailed in the mob, ten or twelve pistol shots were 
 fired in rapid succession. Mrs. Williams screamed, 
 and dropped, half swooning, upon a chair, and 
 Eleanor left her position at the window to attend to
 
 THE STRANGER 505 
 
 the needs of the terrified woman. So she saw 
 nothing in the street for some minutes. What she 
 heard was cries of "Charge 'em ! Charge 'em !" and 
 following them a wild, shrill yell of many voices, 
 and then a rush of feet down the street, past the 
 guard-house, and finally ceasing altogether. 
 
 Pretty soon Mr. Schwanzenberg came up, smil- 
 ing and rubbing his hands and announcing that the 
 negroes had run away, and the ladies would not be 
 troubled further. 
 
 When the two ladies returned to the street they 
 found it very quiet. A few negroes loitered lazily 
 about the sidewalks, and some white men chewed 
 tobacco and gossiped at the corners ; but there was 
 no crowd and no evidence of the morning's riot. It 
 was ascertained pretty soon that no one was killed 
 and none permanently disabled. Alick Mason had 
 to keep his house for a fortnight, and Tom Jerni- 
 gan's adversary's condition was critical for a time; 
 but there were no reprisals, and no prosecution. Joe 
 Atkins, with a guard of soldiers, took the accused 
 man to the county jail.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 "Well," said Margaret Mason, after a talk of 
 some length with Eleanor Field, on a day in Decem- 
 ber, "we won't discuss your resignation of the 
 school any more just now. You promise that you 
 will not resign until further conference with me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you'll try to tell me frankly by which I 
 mean freely everything that comes to your mind ?" 
 
 "I promise." 
 
 "Then I promise to help you all I can which, 
 though bad English, means good friendship. In the 
 mean time, as I would have told you long ago, if 
 you hadn't met me with that sad face, I want you 
 to join me in recreation. One Jeremiah Wakeup 
 a good name for a fox-hunter is to come over to- 
 morrow, Friday, from the adjoining county of Bert- 
 Ion, with his celebrated pack of ten thoroughbred 
 English foxhounds, to compete in a fox chase with 
 the best hounds that Colonel Jenkins can muster. 
 He is Colonel Jenkins's guest. Colonel Jenkins has 
 six fine dogs, Colonel Tomlinson four. These ten 
 are to be matched against the challengers. Colonel 
 Jenkins is wild over the contest, and has made me 
 promise to come and bring you. Have you ever 
 ridden in a fox-hunt? No? Well, then, you must 
 come home with me to-morrow afternoon, and go 
 with me the next morning. The horses, Oaks and 
 Ruby, are in prime condition, and I think I can pro- 
 mise you an exhilarating ride." 
 
 So Eleanor went to Oak Hall Friday, and on
 
 THE STRANGER 507 
 
 Saturday morning she was aroused before daylight 
 by the blast of a horn and the furious barking of 
 Guard. 
 
 In the dining-room she found Margaret, already 
 attired in hat and riding-costume. They took coffee 
 and some cold food ; and then, after the teacher put 
 on her habit, Margaret led the way to the front gate, 
 where the two horses struggled with their grooms. 
 
 As they walked, Eleanor felt unaccountably to 
 her a desire to ride Ruby, and said so to Mar- 
 garet. Margaret paused, and seemed to reflect. 
 Then she said : 
 
 "I would rather you should not. Ruby is vicious 
 as well as wild. He might be dangerous, in a fox- 
 chase, to the best rider." 
 
 "I have no fear of him." 
 
 "I suppose not, but he is hard-mouthed, and has 
 a trick of taking the bit in his teeth which gives 
 him the advantage of any but a powerful hand. I 
 ride him with curbs which would render almost any 
 horse powerless; but even with any of these, he 
 sometimes escapes my management, and gets such 
 possession of the bit that, his jaws being stronger 
 than my arms, he runs away with me." 
 
 "I have no fear," repeated Eleanor. "And I wish 
 to ride him to-day." 
 
 "Very well," said Margaret, slowly. "But try to 
 guide him and to keep your head when he bolts." 
 
 Thomas Jernigan, who had blown the horn, was 
 at the gate, on his tall mule, for the purpose of 
 escorting them to the place of rendezvous. After 
 some controversy between the grooms and the 
 horses, the two ladies mounted. Then the three 
 rode rapidly through the morning twilight, Ruby
 
 508 THE STRANGER 
 
 champing his bit and bearing so hard on it as to 
 strain his rider's arms. After going a mile or more, 
 Margaret said : 
 
 "Won't you change your mind, dear, and ride 
 Oaks?" 
 
 "No, dear," returned Margaret. "I think I can 
 ride Ruby." 
 
 Just as day began to dawn through a great mass 
 of broken clouds of crimson, gold and purple, they 
 drew rein, in front of a farmhouse, where a com- 
 pany of men, women, horses and dogs were gath- 
 ered. Among these were seen Colonel Tomlinson, 
 on his large, strong, dappled-gray horse Traveller 
 so named for Gen. Robt. E. Lee's war-horse, and 
 his name spelled with two I's, because General Lee 
 so wrote his horse's name. There was Colonel Jen- 
 kins, bestriding his tall, slender bay, Jeb Stuart. Mr. 
 Vaughn sat smiling on his gaunt steed Bucephalus. 
 Mr. Boiler rode a fiery little brown mare, which bit 
 or kicked everything in reach. The Misses Burna- 
 by were there, prettily mounted, and looking very 
 fresh and cheerful. The challenger, a man of 
 medium stature, with closely-trimmed reddish beard 
 and hair, and a ruddy, jovial face, sat on a slender 
 sorrel horse. 
 
 "I hope we haven't detained you," cried Margaret, 
 as soon as greetings were exchanged. 
 
 "You have not," answered Colonel Jenkins. 
 "Huntley has not come; and I think Miss Prewitt 
 and her escort, Mr. Tagworn, are just coming up 
 the hill." 
 
 When that gentleman and lady joined them, Mar- 
 garet said, "You need not wait for William, Colonel
 
 THE STRANGER 509 
 
 Jenkins. He did not promise to come. And if he 
 comes, he will soon overtake us." 
 
 Colonel Jenkins then blew softly the great horn 
 suspended from one of his shoulders, adjusted his 
 broad-brimmed hat, pulled his waxed mustache, and 
 led the way. The cavalcade, with the accompani- 
 ment of twenty barking, jumping, and quarreling 
 hounds, moved a short distance along the highway, 
 and after that entered a wide expanse of unculti- 
 vated field, partly overgrown with broom-sedge, 
 partly occupied by growths of stunted old-field pine, 
 and much seamed with gullies whose sides glared 
 red in the light of the rising sun. 
 
 They halted on arriving at the summit of a hill 
 which commanded a view of fields, woodlands, 
 meadows, and swamps for miles around them. 
 Huntley joined them here, looking pale and tired. 
 
 "Hello, Huntley!" cried Colonel Jenkins, loudly. 
 "I was afraid I wouldn't have a chance to run Jeb 
 against Delta this morning." 
 
 After the greetings, Huntley described the hills, 
 hollows, streams, ridges, and roads, and the dis- 
 tances between points, with such clearness, that the 
 teacher almost saw a map before her. Then he 
 called to Mr. Wakeup, and the two, taking the lat- 
 ter's ten hounds, rode down the slope, crossed the 
 stream at its foot, and ascended the opposite ridge. 
 The remaining ten dogs of Colonels Tomlinson and 
 Jenkins were now harked forward, and went at a 
 gallop over the ground on the near side of the 
 stream, while Mr. Vaughn, Mr. Boiler, Mr. Tag- 
 worn, and the ladies moved into a road which ran 
 about parallel with the stream. 
 
 Before long a dog on the farther the south-^-
 
 510 THE STRANGER 
 
 side of the creek gave tongue. Most of the two 
 packs joined in promptly, and followed, for half a 
 mile, a trail along the lower part of the ridge. But 
 they seemed to lose the scent after that, and the 
 ladies and their escort rode leisurely along the road, 
 awaiting a resumption of the chase. And so they 
 rode for fifteen or twenty minutes, when the hounds 
 began to bay, and to follow, faster and more eagerly 
 than before, the trail of game. At one time the cry 
 of the twenty pursuers became wild and rapid ; and 
 the ladies simultaneously gave rein to their horses, 
 and moved along the parallel road at a brisk gallop. 
 Ruby was hard to hold and rough in his gait. But 
 after receiving some discipline from the whip, ad- 
 ministered on Margaret's urgent advice, and after 
 a short run, he became more tractable, though never 
 ceasing to bite the bit. Margaret twice proposed 
 to change mounts with Eleanor, but Eleanor was 
 unwilling. In making the offer the second time 
 Margaret added : 
 
 "He is a dangerous animal to any stranger. 
 William himself says so, and protests against my 
 riding him, but he is safer to me than any one else, 
 because he knows me." 
 
 "Margaret, dear," answered Eleanor, "I wish to 
 ride this horse to-day; and I can ride him." 
 
 Margaret looked into her face for a moment, and 
 then said, with a sigh, "I suppose I must let you 
 have your way." 
 
 The ride was becoming somewhat dull, when a 
 sharp, wild bay of a hound on the distant ridge was 
 heard. In a few seconds, other tongues joined, and 
 the whole of the two packs were in full cry, racing 
 up the ridge, then passing to a plateau beyond.
 
 THE STRANGER 511 
 
 "They've jumped him! By the Lord! they've 
 jumped him," shrieked Mr. Vaughn, belaboring 
 Bucephalus with his whip. "Ride as you can to the 
 next cross-roads, and then go to the left!" 
 
 Every one now hurried forward. Ruby tore 
 along at a run, outstripping all his companions ex- 
 cept Oaks, who kept about a neck's length behind 
 the racer, covering the ground with long, rapid 
 strides, and with an ease which the teacher, despite 
 the engrossing employment of holding her horse, 
 observed with interest and admiration. Then down 
 the ridge they clattered a stony way, and danger- 
 ous to riders of less sure-footed animals than those 
 the two friends rode. In a few minutes Margaret 
 said, "Let us stop to listen. I think the chase is 
 coming this way." 
 
 It was soon evident that the hounds were bear- 
 ing across the line of their riding, apparently pur- 
 suing a curve. The sound gradually increased, and 
 from their position on an elevation overlooking a 
 wide stretch of fields they saw, before long, the 
 whole pack racing through open ground with a 
 clamor that recalled to Eleanor the familiar phrase, 
 "making the welkin ring." For nearly half a mile 
 they ran in full view, the foremost dog being only 
 about two hundred yards from the rearmost. Close 
 at their heels followed Colonel Jenkins and Huntley, 
 almost abreast, and a little behind them rode Mr. 
 Wakeup and Colonel Tomlinson. 
 
 "Colonel Tomlinson rides well, for a man of his 
 years and weight," remarked Margaret "sixty-one 
 years old, and balancing the scales at exactly sixteen- 
 and-a-half stone, egad!" imitating the Colonel's 
 self-satisfied tone,
 
 512 THE STRANGER 
 
 The chase ran thus till it stampeded a herd of 
 thirty or forty cattle and some goats, which were 
 pasturing close to a collection of farm lots and 
 buildings. Then the dogs lost the scent and, after 
 a general pause, began to circle. The other ladies, 
 and Mr. Boiler, Thomas Jernigan, and Mr. Vaughn 
 now came up from the right, they having followed 
 the shorter line. 
 
 The hunters, as well as the dogs, were confused. 
 Mr. Wakeup took three or four of his hounds, and 
 rode to and through the running flock of cows and 
 goats, his conjecture being that the fox, hard 
 pressed, had taken refuge among those animals as 
 the fox often does. But the dogs found no scent. 
 Colonel Jenkins rode into the farm lots, blowing 
 his horn, hallooing to the dogs, and making much 
 clatter among the farmer's poultry and curs. 
 
 Huntley took no part in the efforts of either of 
 those gentlemen, but sat still on his horse, talking 
 with Jernigan. After the two explorers returned, 
 he said, "I think, with Mr. Jernigan, that this 
 veteran red will not be caught in a barn or a cow- 
 shed. Only nervous vixens and inexperienced cubs 
 end that way. Yonder is a rail fence, dividing the 
 turnip-patch from the woods. The fox ran into the 
 herd of cattle, so as to conceal his scent; then he 
 crossed the cowpens and stable yards, then Mr. 
 Jernigan and I surmise he ran along the top of that 
 fence for two or three hundred yards. Let us fol- 
 low the fence." 
 
 Though neither Mr. Wakeup nor Colonel Jenkins 
 endorsed Jernigan's theory, they yielded, and after 
 much difficulty with the hounds, all of which in- 
 sisted on harking back to the field where the trail
 
 THE STRANGER 513 
 
 had been lost, they carried forward three or four 
 dogs. They followed the fence for two hundred 
 yards, and the dogs also beat on both sides of it. 
 Several times one and another of the hounds lifted 
 his nose in the air and took the wind, but not one 
 gave tongue. 
 
 Finally, Colonel Jenkins cried, "This won't do. 
 There's no fox here," and turned back toward the 
 farm lots. 
 
 Jernigan and Huntley coaxed a young dog of 
 Colonel Tomlinson's kennel to go with them, and 
 then they rode on. In a minute, and at about a 
 hundred yards from the point where Mr. Wakeup 
 and Colonel Jenkins and all the others had turned 
 back, this dog struck a scent, opened with almost 
 a shriek of excitement, and dashed through the 
 woods at full speed. 
 
 This brought forward all of the two packs of 
 hounds and the whole cavalcade of hunters; and 
 soon the hunt was riding hard, every one for him- 
 self, through the thick woods, following the clamor- 
 ous chorus of twenty hounds in headlong chase. 
 
 Eleanor's horse soon broke from all control, and 
 raced through undergrowth, brier patches, and pine 
 thickets at a speed that bewildered her, and often 
 rendered it doubtful if she could stay in the saddle. 
 Forest trees, fallen logs, chinquapin thickets, vines, 
 open spaces of grass-grown field, clumps of old-field 
 pine, gullies, sand beds, small streams, stagnant 
 pools of water, fences, rocks, seemed to meet and 
 fly past her. She lost all hearing of the hounds in 
 the rush of air, the swish of foliage, the clatter of 
 the horse's hoofs, and his hard breathing. 
 33
 
 5i4 THE STRANGER 
 
 Once the animal paused so suddenly as to throw 
 her forward, almost over the horns of the saddle, 
 and she saw a high rail fence immediately before 
 them, and hoped the mad race was ended. But, the 
 next second, he rose and leaped like a deer, clearing 
 the obstacle without touching it. At once the wild 
 speed was continued, despite her efforts to curb 
 him when he touched the earth. And on they went 
 through a thicket of old-field pines, both horse and 
 rider receiving sharp wounds from limbs and 
 needles. Again he stopped. Now she saw through 
 the mist that filled her eyes a great chasm, with 
 large rough rocks cropping out along its sides. He 
 reared, propelled himself forward, and landed his 
 fore-feet and body on the farther bank, his hind- 
 feet falling just below the edge. For an instant he 
 gave way and began to slide down the bank, but 
 his great strength and will were equal to the emer- 
 gency, and he struggled up and forward till all four 
 feet were on the level ground. Now she hoped to 
 hold him in, but hardly was he well on his feet be- 
 fore he dashed forward. 
 
 Eleanor began to despair, and her strength was 
 almost exhausted. She ceased to see, or scarce care, 
 where she was, and only sat in the saddle and held 
 the reins in a dazed way, obeying that unreasoning 
 instinct that leads a drowning man to cling to the 
 smallest plank and, literally, to catch at any straw 
 that floats to him. After a time she felt that the 
 animal was plunging through the deep, soft sand or 
 mire ; and at length he stood still, mired up almost to 
 the knees in a willow bog that lay between two open 
 ridges of gullied old field. It was not difficult to 
 guide him thence up the ridge on the same side of
 
 THE STRANGER 515 
 
 the small stream that ran through the hollow. 
 When she reached a sufficient elevation to have a 
 view of her surroundings, she drew rein and looked 
 about her, while Ruby recovered breath. At first 
 it was beyond the capacity of her tired, bruised, 
 brush-beaten eyes to see much, but after a little 
 exercise her vision extended over a large space, and 
 she was able to see the long slope of gullied old 
 field extending far up on the south side of the hol- 
 low and bounded by forest. Presently there came 
 to her, out of the depth of the forest to eastward, 
 the bay of a single hound, and after it the halloo of 
 a single male voice, and after that, at short intervals, 
 the barking of several dogs. It now appeared that 
 her mad courser had carried her out of the line of 
 the chase and beyond it, yet not so far that she might 
 not soon rejoin her companions. So she waited. 
 After two or three minutes, a hound in the depth of 
 the forest gave the long, wild, shrieking cry that 
 announces the "jumping" or starting of game from 
 its place of rest or hiding; and almost instantly 
 several others joined in the clamor. Then she saw 
 something dusky-red, running along the hillside, 
 leaping the gullies, and making for the forest on the 
 eastern side of the field, At the same moment she 
 saw Colonel Jenkins gallop into open ground, some- 
 what farther down the slope; and in another mo- 
 ment saw a number of hounds rush out of the forest. 
 Next she saw Huntley's Delta enter the field far 
 up the slope of the hill, and bear toward the course 
 pursued by the game. 
 
 The fierce chorus of the hounds and the whoops 
 of the huntsmen fired anew the nerves of the un- 
 tamed thoroughbred, and he, dashed thrQugh the
 
 516 THE STRANGER 
 
 quicksands and mud and willows in the hollow, al- 
 most dragging his rider out of the saddle, and tear- 
 ing her habit into strips. Away he sped up the hill, 
 straining every nerve to overtake the chase. She 
 saw Huntley and Jenkins riding at terrific speed, 
 leaping over gullies, rushing through patches of 
 sassafras shrubs and thorns, heedless of stones and 
 sand pockets. On they swept, more than two hun- 
 dred yards apart at first, but converging toward 
 the line taken by the fox and the hounds. The two 
 wild riders gained on the pack, so that when the 
 last dog had passed into the woods the two horses 
 were at its edge, and in a second no man or horse 
 was visible, and all the noise of the chase ceased. 
 
 But Ruby pursued his way with unabated energy. 
 At the border of the forest his rider discovered a 
 rail fence, very old and much decayed, and over- 
 grown with vines to such an extent as to render it 
 both difficult and dangerous to cross. She strove 
 with all her strength, first to stop him, and having 
 failed in that attempt, then to change his course. 
 But all her efforts were in vain. He ran up to the 
 barrier, eyed it an instant, then reared and cleared 
 it without touching fence, vine, or shrub. 
 
 But he had hardly landed when he pricked for- 
 ward his ears, snorted loudly, and stood still. 
 Eleanor now saw, not far on her left. Colonel Jenk- 
 ins's horse lying on his side, and partly hidden by a 
 huge granite boulder. His rider she did not see. 
 In front she then saw Delta, and beyond her was 
 a collection of leaping, struggling, snarling hounds. 
 Presently there stood above this contending mass 
 the form of William Huntley. His hat was gone, 
 his hair was disordered, his clothing was much torn,
 
 THE STRANGER 517 
 
 and from one of his temples there ran a thin stream 
 of blood. He reeled when he attempted to carry be- 
 yond the reach of the hounds the large red fox he 
 had taken from them. 
 
 Eleanor sprang to the ground, and ran to him. 
 He did not recognize her, and evidently did not see 
 her, though she caught both his arms ; but he neither 
 spoke nor responded to her touch. He lurched for- 
 ward, and dropped his game, and would have fallen 
 but for the support she afforded him. 
 
 While the hounds snatched their prey and fought 
 over it, he, still dazed and speechless, staggered for- 
 ward. Then his strength failed, and despite her 
 efforts to hold him up, he sank to the earth. She 
 held him as well as she might, and when he lay on 
 the ground supported his head on her shoulder, ap- 
 plying and pressing on the bleeding wound her 
 gloves and handkerchief. She held him close against 
 her heart, and kissed the blood-stained lips, crying, 
 "My own dear love! My unhappy, wronged love! 
 Live long enough to hear my remorse my repent- 
 ance oh, give me your pardon !" 
 
 The words spoken seemed to penetrate the trance 
 that enveloped him; she felt his heart beat more 
 strongly and rapidly beneath her hand; and then 
 his eyelids parted, and he looked into her face. 
 "Oh !" exclaimed she, "you have come back to me. 
 Stay with me, dear !" He appeared to recognize her 
 and to understand her appeal, for he fixed his eyes 
 on hers, not with the hot longing that blazed in them 
 when he clasped her months ago, but with a tender 
 contentment. She laid her cheek against his, and 
 wept for mingled joy and grief, while, without 
 speaking, or opening his lips, he lifted a bruised and
 
 518 THE STRANGER 
 
 torn hand to her face, and caressed it with a gentle 
 touch. But the effort was too much for his fast- 
 failing strength ; the blood gushed forth ; his hand 
 fell limp beside him; and he lay insensible in her 
 arms.
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 The first service held in the restored Episcopal 
 Church was a wedding, which took place on the 
 evening of a Wednesday, in January, 1874. The 
 bride, for a good many days, objected, as Squire 
 Williams expressed it, to the venue, insisting that 
 she ought to be married at her own home in the val- 
 ley of the Connecticut, but Dr. Thompson said that 
 it would be most hazardous for the bridegroom, just 
 recovering from his wound, to travel in midwinter 
 to that region; and the bridegroom suggested that 
 if his people were to be her people, it might be as 
 well that she be married in his own land, and among 
 those who would be her neighbors. And so there 
 came to Cherenden a widow, her son Tom and her 
 daughter Julia. 
 
 Almost every white person in the village went to 
 the ceremony, and a good many from the country 
 were at the door waiting long before the hour. 
 Colonel Jenkins was there, on crutches. He an- 
 nounced that both he and his horse Jeb would be 
 able to hunt before long, but that, for the present, 
 their fox-chasing was suspended. Colonel Tomlin- 
 son exhibited himself in an expanse of shirt-front 
 and white vest impossible for one less than sixteen- 
 and-a-half stone weight. 
 
 The Widow Hayblow was there, with all her con- 
 nections and admirers, and Mrs. Lubeck vied with 
 the widow in demonstrations of her own importance 
 and her interest in the function ; the Cogburns took 
 an active part; Mrs. Anderson carried thither her
 
 520 THE STRANGER 
 
 husband and all the guests of the hotel ; Mrs. Hax- 
 well came, and brought Minnie; Jennie Lane came 
 with Julia Field, and kept close to her both of 
 them sparring occasionally with Charlie Tomlinson, 
 who was particularly pert and busy. The Jernigans 
 were there. Tom managed to get into everybody's 
 way, and Sar' Ann was all smiles. Margaret 
 played the organ, and Marcus Aurelius Vaughn 
 was everywhere, taking care of all who came, but as 
 successful as Thomas Jernigan in running against 
 people, impeding their movements, and obstructing 
 their view. 
 
 Just after the ceremony, while all sorts of men, 
 women, and children thronged around the bridal 
 pair, a deep, strong voice was heard. "God bless 
 me! After all my hard riding I got here too late 
 to see the knot tied." Then, as it approached from 
 the door, the same voice cried, "But I'll get there. 
 And I'll kiss that bride, if Huntley kills me the next 
 minute!" 
 
 Then old Dr. Thompson shouldered his way 
 through the crowd to the bride, threw his long arms 
 around her, and saluted her with a smack that re- 
 sounded all over the building. 
 
 We cannot tell what passed between the bride and 
 Margaret Mason, when they met after the ceremony. 
 No one else heard the words they spoke ; the bride- 
 groom himself moved aside, unwilling to intrude 
 on their communing. And they stood long to- 
 gether, each holding the other in close embrace, 
 while all the throng passed out.
 
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