fcTOUNGSaW/RCh 
 
 BOOKS & 
 STATIONERY
 
 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE
 
 THE NEW MAN 
 
 AT ROSSMERE 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. J. H. WALWORTH, 
 
 Author of "THE BAR-SINISTER," "WITHOUT BLEMISH," "OLD 
 
 FULKERSON'S CLERK," ETC., ETC. 
 
 CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, 
 739 & 741 BROADWAY, NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1886, 
 
 II Y 
 
 O. M. DUNHAM. 
 
 Pres. of W. L. Mershon & Cc 
 Rah way, N . J.
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 I. TlEVINA, . 9 
 
 II. ONE VIEW OF THE MAJOR, . . 20 
 
 III. THE MAJOR AT TIEVINA, ... 34 
 
 IV. THE GROWTH OF A FRIENDSHIP, . 46 
 V. THE THORNS AT HOME, . . -57 
 
 VI. THE MAJOR AT HOME, ... 70 
 
 VIJ. INDUCTED INTO OFFICE, . . .81 
 
 VIII. PERIODIC PERTURBATION, .... 93 
 
 IX. A COMMON DANGER, . . .in 
 
 X. OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE, . . 126 
 
 XI. CONTRASTS, 138 
 
 XII. A HIT IN THE DARK, . . . 147 
 
 XIII. AUNT NANCY'S MILLENNIUM, . . . 163 
 
 XIV. A MORNING RIDE, . . . . 172 
 XV. IN THE GAP, 185 
 
 XVI. FACT AND PREJUDICE, . . . 193 
 
 XVII. WIVES, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM, . 2OI 
 
 XVIII. GOING TO CHURCH, .... 218
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 XIX. MISCHIEF MONGERS, .... 230 
 
 XX. MIND AND MUSCLE, .... 242 
 
 XXI. ELECTION DAY, . . . .256 
 
 XXII. LOTTIE, THE VOUDOO QUEEN, . . 277 
 
 XXIII. A WORD IN SEASON, . ... 286 
 
 XXIV. THE MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION, * . 299 
 XXV. RETROSPECTION, ..... 319 
 XXVI. POLITICAL ECONOMY OF MR. POTTER, 333 
 
 XXVII. WON OVER, . . . . . . 341 
 
 XXVIII. CONCLUSION, . . ... . 355
 
 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TIEVINA. 
 
 THERE are certain localities in the South for which 
 it is difficult to forecast a bright future ; localities 
 which, for patent reasons, must remain, at least for 
 many generations to come, what they were and as they 
 were at the close of the war. Possessed of no mineral 
 resources suggesting latent possibilities and inviting 
 capital, there is nothing upon which to found a reason- 
 able expectation that the sluggish current of their ways 
 will ever increase in velocity. Debarred, by the very 
 exigencies of natural position, such impetus toward 
 improvement and progress as follows in the fiery wake 
 of the locomotive, the local pulse must continue to 
 beat in unison with the slower revolutions of the pad- 
 dle-wheel, which still embodies for it the acme of 
 speed. 
 
 This unchangeableness bestows that extrinsic value 
 upon such localities which belongs to the type of every 
 age and clime ; and whosoever would preserve, as mat-
 
 10 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 ter of story or history, the record of life as it was in the 
 agricultural districts of the South, must seek it, not in 
 the neighborhood of her Atlantas and Birminghams 
 and Memphises, but at the drowsy little shipping points 
 strung along the treacherous banks of the Mississippi 
 River like tawdry beads on an untrustworthy string, or 
 else back, hidden from view by miles of intervening 
 timber, in the clustering hamlets of houses of varying 
 degrees of shabbiness, which have a common raison 
 d' etre in the Court House that proclaims the county 
 seat. 
 
 In the swamp lands of Arkansas and Louisiana, in 
 the " Piney Hills " of Mississippi, and elsewhere in the 
 South, one may travel many a day and not lose sight 
 of these petrified neighborhoods where things came to 
 a standstill, socially, long ago, and where a week-old 
 newspaper is the freshest link between a world where 
 people do and dare and a world where they endure and 
 remember ; places where " mail-day " punctuates the 
 week with a single period, and where the fluctuations 
 of the cotton market and the " Liverpool quotations " 
 out-rank Wall Street and the Signal Service report ; 
 places, in short, where men with brawn and brain to 
 make them the peers of any man are held in bondage 
 by the iron god Circumstance, until the possibilities of 
 their lives are reduced to zero. 
 
 It is in such a neighborhood and among such people 
 that the scene of the following incidents is laid ; inci-
 
 TIE VINA. 1 1 
 
 dents of actual occurrence, which your narrator has 
 simply portrayed and painted with their genuine sur- 
 roundings. The age is altogether too urgent in its 
 demand for facts, for one who seeks to please to neg- 
 lect the paramount condition of success veracity ; and, 
 in verification of the old saying that truth is stranger 
 than fiction, it must be added that the most improb- 
 able-seeming of the events in this story are the ones 
 described most literally as they occurred. 
 
 " Tievina," to any one familiar with the flora of the 
 South, and capable of associating the name with the 
 fact that the pestiferously clinging vine known as the 
 " tie vine " is at once the bane and the reproach of the 
 planter who succumbs to its encroachments, was the 
 unfortunate but singularly appropriate name for a 
 plantation in the southern part of Arkansas, which had 
 been owned and " run " by the Southmeads unto the 
 fourth generation of that happy-go-lucky family. 
 
 The tie vine, which every zealous planter fights with 
 the energy of desperation, is a charming object to the 
 botanist, with its dark, glossy, serrate leaves, its grace- 
 ful tendrils that curl with vicious tenacity about the 
 growing crops, and its delicate blue and white flower- 
 bells, morning-glories in miniature ; but to the tiller of 
 the soil, who knows by bitter experience that it grows 
 with the magical celerity of Jack's bean-stalk, and that 
 those tender green tendrils take a death-grip with every 
 curve, it is an object of terror and disgust. The fact,
 
 1 2 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 then, that " Tievina " had been selected by the owner 
 of the place in question as the only descriptive local 
 name at all appropriate, conveys in one word an idea 
 of the place and of its owner, Mr. George South- 
 mead. 
 
 Things had not improved at Tievina since the war. 
 Rather had they deteriorated with the facility that 
 generally marks the downward progress of men and 
 things. The house, originally an imposing-looking 
 structure, built well up from the ground, encircled by 
 broad verandas, and decidedly " stylish " in front, with 
 its couple of long French windows opening on the gal- 
 lery on either side of the large front door, which with its 
 broad side-lights and transom gave light to the long 
 central hall that ran the length of the building, seemed 
 dedicated to the perpetuation of the gray of the lost 
 cause. Weather-stained and paintless, it showed a 
 grim frontage in spite of the sheltering arms cast about 
 and over it by more than a score of grand old pecan 
 and live oak trees crowding the space between the 
 front door and yard gate. The original plank fence 
 that had girdled the gray house and its fine trees was 
 an antebellum boast of Mr. Southmead's, and had cer- 
 tainly had no near rival in elegance ; but it had been 
 patched and repatched, now with old planks, now with 
 new rails, again with piles of brush from the thorny 
 osage-orange hedging that stretched its ragged length 
 about the entire place, and most recently of all with a
 
 TIE VINA. 13 
 
 yard or two of glittering barbed wire which had been 
 sent Mr. Southmead by an enterprising dealer in novelty 
 fencing, until its identity was completely lost and its 
 solitary claim to respect now lay in its being entirely 
 pig-proof. A startlingly ornate brand-new front gate, 
 large enough for man and beast, gave token that the 
 Southmeads still had spasmodic movements in the 
 direction of home decorative art. Dumped in an 
 inconsequent fashion about the immense and weed- 
 choked area called the back yard, were several out- 
 houses, all antedating the war and giving rickety sug- 
 gestions of better days, even of a past glory that had 
 found expression in scalloped eves to the leaky 
 roofs and latticed blinds to the unglazed windows. A 
 new kitchen of unpainted cypress lumber gleamed redly 
 from among the prevailing grays and duns of the prem- 
 ises, and a plank platform connecting it with the " big 
 house " was regarded as quite a concession to the mod- 
 ern spirit of improvement, as well as to the exactions 
 of free labor. 
 
 Two or three huge spikes driven well into the bark 
 of one of the big trees in the front yard, did duty for 
 the horse-rack that had rotted down some two or three 
 years before and had never been replaced, owing to 
 pressure of other matters and lack of suitable material 
 close at hand. " Besides " Mr. Southmead had said, 
 arguing rather pathetically against any urgent need 
 of replacement : " it don't much matter about a
 
 14 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 rack now; things are changed from what they 
 
 were." 
 
 At irregular intervals patches of rusty boxwood indi- 
 cated with the precision of old runic stones the loca- 
 tion of the circular carriage-drive that once had been. 
 Even now, inside the vaguely outlined circle, in early 
 spring a few hardy snowdrops blossomed like ghosts 
 revisiting the scene of their former joys and triumphs, 
 and vanished as quickly from the bare and unrespon- 
 sive sod. The grass grew thick over the carriage-drive 
 now, with none to care to check its rude encroachment. 
 Carriages were never everlasting, and unless Cinderella's 
 godmother should good-naturedly volunteer to turn the 
 golden pumpkins, lying about in the fields for stock 
 consumption, into gorgeous coaches for the benefit of 
 nineteenth century skeptics, they were not likely to 
 become plentiful in that neighborhood again. The 
 few rheumatic and decrepit vehicles which were 
 exhumed on occasions of universal public interest only 
 served to point the moral of universal decay, and to 
 them the grass in the Tievina carriage-drive was no dis- 
 respect. 
 
 So much for the exterior of Tievina which was 
 visible from the road that ran along the banks of a 
 beautiful lake some six or seven miles inland from the 
 Mississippi River. Toward noon of a morning in the 
 early part of December, 1870, the interior of this estab- 
 lishment had been startled out of its slumberous quie-
 
 TIE VINA. 15 
 
 tude by Mr. Southmead himself, who entered his wife's 
 presence on his return from his usual rounds over the 
 place, and said, positively and abruptly: "Amelia, my 
 dear, I have resolved to bury the hatchet. It becomes 
 me as a gentleman to do so, apart from the deuced 
 inconvenience of not being on speaking terms with 
 one's nearest neighbor and all the snipe on his land 
 too !" 
 
 "Bury which hatchet, Mr. Southmead? " his wife 
 asked, quite as if the mild air about Tievina bristled 
 with unburied hatchets. 
 
 " The hatchet of sectional prejudice, which has kept 
 us aloof so long from our neighbor, Major Denny ! 
 The hatchet which, unburied, must remain a perpetual 
 reminder of the wounds and scars of civil conflict ! " 
 Mr. Southmead answered, a trifle grandiosely. 
 
 "Sectional prejudice! Major Denny! Our neigh- 
 bor! Why, George," Mrs. Southmead gasped, in 
 excited crescendo, " he is a Yankee! " 
 
 " I am afraid I can not disprove that assertion," her 
 husband says lightly ; " but, as it does not necessarily 
 follow that he is an anaconda, I suppose we can find 
 enough for him to eat on Christmas Day. I have 
 invited him to dine with us then." 
 
 " Have invited ? " 
 
 " Have invited." 
 
 " And you are absolutely committed to it ?" 
 
 "Absolutely."
 
 1 6 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 Mrs. Southmead folded her soft, plump hands over 
 the sewing-machine, whose wheel had come to an aston- 
 ished halt, and uttered an ejaculation of dissatisfaction. 
 Her handsome blue eyes were full of the amazed con- 
 sternation of a totally unreconstructed rebel. 
 
 " I veritably believe you are the most tactless man 
 on earth," she said, presently, as if she had been silently 
 making up her mind on this point. " Of course, he 
 will expect to be entertained like a prince." 
 
 " I think his expectations will be more than filled if 
 he finds himself received like a gentleman," Mr. South- 
 mead said, shortly. 
 
 " I hope I have self-respect enough for that," she 
 said. " But think of it, George ! " She resumed her 
 plaint in a pathetic monotone, jumbling together pat- 
 riotism, housewife's pride, personal vanity, and inherited 
 prejudices, with a reckless disregard for the unities, 
 that was pathetically comic : 
 
 "A Yankee! And I've nothing on earth to wear 
 (thanks to him and his) ! No champagne ! What a 
 farce of a Christmas dining! A major, and they do 
 say he lives like a prince at home, if he is an inter- 
 loper ! And not a piece of my best china left ! No 
 dining-room servant ! And a major with his hands 
 dyed red in the blood of my kindred, and yet we will 
 hobnob with him over the poorest and skinniest tur- 
 key that was ever killed since Job's. Mercy ! I believe 
 I will send the creature word I am ill and can not possi-
 
 TIE VINA. 17 
 
 bly receive company. Dear me, Ursula," turning sud- 
 denly toward the door that had opened at her back, 
 " do come here and help me out of the mess your 
 Uncle George has gotten us all into." 
 
 The individual thus adjured advanced into the room 
 with the most unsympathetic of smiles playing about 
 her lips. 
 
 " Well, auntie, what now ? " 
 
 " Oh ! you needn't say ' what now ' as if I were in 
 the habit of conjuring up troubles out of nothing. 
 The dear knows I have plenty of genuine ones on 
 hand without putting myself to that trouble. What 
 would you say if I were to tell you that your Uncle 
 George has actually invited that Major Denny, who 
 bought the Rossmere place, to dinner here on Christ- 
 mas ?" 
 
 " I should simply say that I was delighted." 
 
 " Hurrah for 'Sula and common sense!" cries Mr. 
 Southmead, waving his hat triumphantly over his 
 head. 
 
 "Why, auntie," 'Sula goes on in her soft, coaxing 
 voice, " Christmas is just the time for a friendly over- 
 ture of this sort. Peace on earth and good-will toward 
 man, don't you know? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I know. I haven't quite forgotten all my 
 Christmas mottoes, if I have lived twenty years out of 
 the sound of a church-bell ; but all the Christmas mot- 
 toes on earth are not sufficient to make me think it was
 
 1 8 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 right of Mr. Southmead to involve me in this 
 
 thing." 
 
 " Why, just think of it, aunt, this Major Denny has 
 been living within three miles of us for a whole year, 
 on a plantation that he bought and paid for promptly 
 and liberally ; and we have treated him with no more 
 civility than if he had stolen the place, and stolen it 
 from us at that! Put yourself in his place, Aunt 
 Amelia. Oh, I think Uncle George has done just 
 right." 
 
 " And you can think so ? " 
 
 Ursula understood the emphasis, and flushed to the 
 roots of the soft, wavy brown hair that was parted over 
 her most placid brow. 
 
 "And I can think so," she said, with sweet gravity. 
 " It will not bring my Willie back to me, aunt, to close 
 my hand and heart against this stranger that is within 
 our gates." 
 
 " 'Sula," said her uncle, laying his hand on her head 
 tenderly, " I think on that great day when all the 
 rewards promised in the Sermon on the Mount to the 
 various ' blesseds ' shall be accorded, they will have to 
 put the one promised to the peace-maker on our little 
 girl's head," 
 
 Before 'Sula had begun her gentle little " preach," 
 as the family called her takings-to-task, Mrs. South- 
 mead had one powerful ally, in her opposition to Major 
 Denny's coming, in Frederic, her son, who had been
 
 TIE VINA. 19 
 
 moodily drumming on the window during the entire 
 controversy. But then Fred was sore just then on the 
 subject of a suddenly terminated or interrupted colle- 
 giate course, and he felt unreasonably inclined 
 to hold every man from the north personally responsi- 
 ble for his father's lack of means and his own consequent 
 misfortune. But by the use of that magic re-adjuster, 
 " put yourself in his place," he speedily arrived at a 
 juster conclusion, and showed himself quite ready and 
 even anxious to do his share toward entombing that 
 rusty old hatchet, which, after all, he said bitterly, had 
 inflicted the sorest wounds upon those who had first 
 held it aloft. 
 
 If Ursula, widowed and desolate, could extend a 
 hand in amity, what was he that he should hold back ! 
 
 "After all, mamma," he said, magnanimously, " this 
 particular fellow didn't write the emancipation procla- 
 mation, nor burn our cotton either." 
 
 At which they all laughed, Mrs. Southmead included. 
 It was very difficult to regain her tragic attitude after 
 the concession of that laugh, so Mrs. Southmead sur- 
 rendered the point of the dinner ignominiously, but 
 unconditionally. 
 
 " "Sula," she asked, with feminine inconsequence, 
 " do you suppose it is possible to turn that old black 
 silk once more ? I should like to let him see that I do 
 know how a lady ought to receive ! " 
 
 And 'Sula thought it was.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ONE VIEW OF THE MAJOR. 
 
 IF leaning with his elbows upon the window-sill 
 raised to admit the mild air which had strayed by 
 some happy mistake into the month of December, 
 doing nothing but moodily wondering how much 
 longer it would take the Southmead family to go to 
 the dogs at their then rate of progress, allowing his 
 ears to absorb and his memory to retain every sound 
 that floated toward him, could be called eavesdrop- 
 ping, then Frederic Southmead was guilty of that 
 naughty practice on the morning in question, and met 
 with the proverbial bad luck of that character. 
 
 From those morose meditations upon the fact that 
 he was rapidly approaching man's estate, with but a 
 partial education, no prospects and no trade, he was 
 aroused by hearing a small imperious voice out yonder 
 in the new cypress kitchen, which his window over- 
 looked, saying, in tones of lofty condescension : 
 
 " Ef you'll give me a piece uv dough all for meself, 
 mammy, and yo' great big thim'le, an' put m' up to 
 table, an' tell me all 'bout Kris Krinkle while I cuts out
 
 ONE VIEW OF THE MAJOR. 2 1 
 
 me little bitsa biscuits, I'll let yo' go on rubbin' 
 silver." 
 
 By which Fred - knows that Paul Pry, as the young- 
 est son of the house is called, because of his insatiable 
 curiosity, is in the kitchen, " pesterin' " Aunt Nancy, 
 their cook, in a way she would not dispense with for 
 half a year's wages ; and he gathered, furthermore, by 
 the vibratory motion communicated through the con- 
 necting plank platform, that Aunt Nancy was doing 
 the baby despot's will, and finally, by the childish 
 chuckle of satisfaction, that it is done, without the 
 accompanying " Dar you is ! How long you gwine 
 stay dar?" 
 
 " Now about Kris Krinkle ! " says Carl, inexorably. 
 
 Carleton is the boy's real name, but it is seldom 
 bestowed upon him except on rare occasions when 
 parental authority asserts itself in a sudden gusty 
 assumption of austere dignity. 
 
 "Well, honey chile, ole Kris ain* never hurt hisseff 
 a-doin' fur you," says mammy, settling to the work of 
 narration and silver-rubbing simultaneously, " but, 
 bless de lam, w'en yer brer Freddie en yer sis Jinny 
 were leetle like you, he usen t' jes' tum'le down de 
 chimbly in yo' ma's room bodashusly, wid his pack on 
 his back ! Stockin's warn't nowhars ! Git out, chill'n ! 
 He'd stuff, en he'd cram, en he'd ram, till he heered de 
 stitches a-crackin' long de stock-legs, w'en he'd sorter 
 let up on de stockin's en go t' spillin' things 'bout
 
 2 2 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 ev'awhars, sorter permiscus lak, fer yer buddie and yer 
 
 sissie." 
 
 " May be sister and buddie Fred was better'n me," 
 says Paul Pry, with wistful humility, " an* ole Kris 
 loved 'em more ! " 
 
 " No sech uv a thing ! " Aunt Nancy answered, com- 
 batively. " You's jes' es good es gol' w'en you's a 
 min' t' be. But I sorter 'lows, honey son, dat ole St. 
 Nick mus' 'a' ben a cott'n planter en done loss all his 
 niggers, or de wurrims mus' a strip his field, or some'n 
 nudder mus' 'a' give him a mouty setback, fur thar's 
 no two ways about it, he do make a mons'ous po' show 
 dese days." 
 
 " But he's coming, though ! " Carl says, triumph- 
 antly, " and he's going t' bring me bring me what's 
 he going to bring me, mammy? you tell." 
 
 "What does you mos' wish he'd brung yer?" 
 mammy asks, with insinuating cunning, and it is safe 
 to predict that if the boy mentions any thing within 
 reach of her slender purse it will be forthcoming. 
 
 Upon which encouragement Carl launches into a 
 spirited enumeration of his needs and desires, so reck- 
 less as to number and magnificent as to quality that it 
 would seem Aunt Nancy's hints about the good saint's 
 financial straits had fallen upon incredulous ears. 
 While Carl grapples with " futures " and his thimble 
 biscuit, Aunt Nancy rubs her silver to the accompani- 
 ment of a retrospective monologue, wherein she
 
 ONE VIEW OF THE MAJOR. 23 
 
 bewails the departed glory of the house of South- 
 mead. 
 
 " C'ris'mus ! " she sniffs, with audible scorn. " C'ris'- 
 mus ! Whar's de use uv havin' enny C'ris'muses dese 
 times, enny ways? Whar's de eyesters, en de orringis, 
 en de lemmins, en de citrins, en de reesins, en de 
 ammuns, en de taller fur de mince-meat? Wat sorter 
 C'ris'mus kin you mek out widout a black cake en 
 mince-meat, ef you'll please t' tell me ? Seems lak all 
 dem things usen t' come long uv der own 'cord sho's 
 C'ris'mus roll 'roun'. But they don' now, dat dey don'. 
 I ain' got no use fo' C'ris'mus myseff. I ain' sence we 
 done broke all t' flinders. An' we is come down in de 
 wurrul', sho es gun is iern. En who's t' help us up 'gin ? 
 Tell me dat, people ! Not ole marser; he's too sot in 
 his ways to pester his head 'bout free niggers; gin him 
 his setter pup en his rifle, en he's all right ! Not dat 
 boy Freddie, fur, Gawd bless dat boy, he do ve'y'ly 
 seem lak de lilies uv de fiel* which t'iles not nuvver do 
 dey spin ! Who den ? Dat baby a pluggin' biskit out 
 wid my ole brass frim' le dar ! Is we got t' wait on 
 him t' pull us outen de mire uv disspon en de bog uv 
 poverty? Go way, people ! Ain' I ben seed de times 
 w'en Marse George Southmead would 'a' thouten sech 
 doin's es we hes now jes' 'boat fit'n fur his fiel' han's, 
 leave out he's yard folks ! C'ris'mus, en one lone toluble 
 decen' turkey, uv my own fotchin' up, en one po' blue, 
 skinny leg 'er mutt'n, all de show fur meat ! Clar t'
 
 24 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 goodniss, de mutt'n we hes now is so mean, seems lak 
 it swinks up in de b'ilin' outen pure shem-facedniss fur 
 its own meanness ! En comp'ny comin' ! Whar's de 
 celery, en de capers, and de pulv'rize sugar fur de icin' ! 
 Whar's de grit in dat boy Fred, dat he don' tek his 
 gun en try fur some wil' ducks, at leas' ! Whar's enny 
 thin' fitt'n fur comp'ny w'ite folks? tell me dat." 
 
 " Cozzie can tell you ! Cozzie knows every thing," 
 says Carl, coming to a sudden halt in a vivid descrip- 
 tion of a steam-engine with red wheels and a blue 
 boiler, which figures conspicuously among his holiday 
 demands, in order to make a suggestion that he thinks 
 will satisfy Aunt Nancy's querulous discomfort about 
 things in general, or ought to if it does not. 
 
 Aunt Nancy was the cook at Tievina ; had been ever 
 since she had reached years of discretion. She was 
 black, ponderous, and capable. Freedom had made 
 no appreciable change in her position in the South- 
 mead family, unless by affording opportunity for the 
 exercise of certain benevolent and patronizing ten- 
 dencies that had never had free play in " reb times." 
 Carl and her cooking-stove ranked first in her affec- 
 tions. She had been proud of the establishment in the 
 days of its prosperity; she yearned over it pityingly in 
 the days of its adversity. It would have been difficult 
 to imagine the domestic machinery of the household 
 moving at all without its ebony mainspring, Aunt 
 Nancy. In a burst of humility and self-knowledge
 
 ONE VIEW Of Tff MAJOR. 5 
 
 Frederic had once been heard to declare that if either 
 Aunt Nancy or himself had to be offered up a sacrifice 
 on the altar of necessity he would say, take him, a 
 cumberer of the earth, and leave her, the very salt 
 thereof. 
 
 But it is one thing to call one's self a cumberer of 
 the earth, and quite another to hear one's self called 
 so. The old woman's words stung and rankled. 
 
 Was he really as useless as one of Solomon's lilies ? 
 and was he totally devoid of manly " grit " ? In a 
 spirit of sullen acquiescence he sprang from his seat by 
 the open window, swung his shot-gun over his shoulder, 
 and left the house. He would like to fling a brace or 
 two of ducks at Aunt Nancy's feet in triumph when 
 he came back; but whether he killed any thing or not, 
 he relished the idea of a tramp through the woods this 
 mild morning. 
 
 The lake front of Tievina was narrow, not more than 
 a mile and a half from the belt of woods that separated it 
 from Thorndale, old Squire Thorn's place, their nearest 
 neighbor to the right, to the other belt of woods that 
 intervened between them and Rossmere, the plantation 
 recently bought by Major Denny. It was back in this 
 last strip of woods that the best duck ponds and the 
 snipe grounds were to be found ; and in this direction 
 Frederic turned his steps. The fields were brown and 
 rusty with the dead stalks of the cotton that had all 
 been picked, but not so closely that little dingy rem-
 
 26 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 nants of the staple, bedraggled and worthless, were not 
 to be seen flapping dismally at every step. There was 
 nothing doing in any department, except at the gins, 
 where the last few bales were being marked for ship- 
 ment, and the moats, refuse of the stands, were being 
 ginned up. The soft puffing of the little steam pipe, 
 that sent quick white clouds up to mingle with those 
 in the blue above, and the crackling of dead twigs 
 under his own feet, were the only sounds that followed 
 Frederic into the gray and leafless woods. The long 
 line of the levee, brier-grown and log-encumbered, 
 afforded better footing than the roadside, so he clamb- 
 ered up it, and walked on in the direction of Rossmere. 
 The road was badly cut up at this season of the year 
 by the heavily-laden cotton wagons, that had but one 
 route for the eight or ten plantations that lay in what 
 was called the bed of the lake, out through the Ross- 
 mere place, to the river-landing that was now part of 
 Major Denny's property. The shipping of the cotton 
 all came in between the months of November and Jan- 
 uary, when, of course, the seasons and the roads were 
 at their worst, and this especial piece of road, with the 
 thick woods crowding close up to it on both sides, was 
 so densely shaded that, once rain-soaked, it became the 
 terror of teamsters throughout the entire hauling 
 season. Hence it was that when presently the sound 
 of a fierce cracking and lashing of whips, coupled with 
 every species of objurgation known to the teamster
 
 ONE VIEW OF THE MAJOR. 27 
 
 (except profanity, which is not the colored man's vice) 
 came to Frederic's ears, he said, indifferently, " 'Nother 
 team bogged ! " and walked on in the direction of the 
 sound without hastening his footsteps. " It's ours, 
 too," he said, with more interest in his voice, as a turn 
 in the road gave to his view the wagon piled high with 
 eight huge cotton-bales, the straining team of six 
 mules, and " old man Ephe," the head teamster on his 
 father's place, who at that moment was mopping his 
 wrinkled forehead with his coat-sleeve, while he stared 
 with weary anxiety at the back wheels of the wagon, 
 stuck immovably in the stiff " buckshot " mud. The 
 mules stood with heaving flanks and distended nostrils. 
 The lash of the whip and the wordy exhortations of 
 old Ephe had ceased of effect. It was an all-day 
 undertaking to get a load of cotton from the gin at 
 Tievina to the landing out on the river, and back with 
 the empty wagon. But at the present rate of progress 
 it was impossible for Ephe to say when he would come 
 into enjoyment of the hot coffee and cold bacon and 
 greens his " old woman " would save for his supper. 
 
 "Stuck, Uncle Ephe?" asked Fred, coming abreast 
 of the wagon in the road, and looking down from the 
 altitude of the levee in helpless sympathy. 
 
 " Yes, chile, stuck ! " said Uncle Ephe, hopelessly 
 glancing up, and seeing it was nobody but Fred. " Ef 
 yer hed enny mussil now in them air arms o' yo'n, yer 
 might be some holp t' me," he added, ramming his
 
 28 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 hands far down into his pockets while he " studied " 
 
 out what to try next. 
 
 " Stuck, old man ? " 
 
 A second time the question was asked, and there, 
 striding out of the woods on the opposite side, his feet 
 and lower limbs incased in long rubber boots, a gray 
 corduroy hunting suit protecting the rest of him from 
 the clinging of cockleburrs and other woodland pests, 
 came a young man whom Fred said, in a quick under- 
 tone to himself : 
 
 " The major ! Must be ! Great Scott, what should- 
 ers ! " 
 
 " Stuck, boss, de wuss sort," said old Ephe, doffing 
 his hat respectfully to this last arrival. 
 
 " Tievina team ! " said the hunter, glancing at the 
 foam-flecked mules. " It isn't often even these roads 
 get the better of those mules." 
 
 " You ain' saying a word too much for dem mules 
 nudder, boss, ef I does 'ten' 'em. En w'en dese mules 
 stops jes' dead still in der tracks dey means business, 
 dey does dat." 
 
 " Let them blow a little while, and we'll give them a 
 lift. Any rails handy ? We can show them that we 
 mean business, too." 
 
 "I'll t'ar down a mile er fencin'/'said Ephraim, ener- 
 getically, " cf dat'll do any good, but who gwine to pry 
 de wheels up while I starts de mules ?" 
 
 " I am," said the hunter, laughing, as he stepped back
 
 ONE VIEW OF THE MAJOR. 29 
 
 to the nearest tree, deposited his gun and game-bag, and 
 quietly divested himself of his coat and vest, revealing 
 to Fred's admiring eyes, as he stood there in his dark 
 blue flannel shirt and gray corduroy trowsers, the finest 
 specimen of athletic manhood his boyish eyes had ever 
 rested on. 
 
 " Bring good new rails, old man !" the major called 
 after Ephe, who was plunging over the muddy road in 
 reckless indifference to his own mud-bespattered condi- 
 tion, eager to be helped out of the bog, so that he might 
 go his way. 
 
 " Pretty sort of work for me to stand here in Miss 
 Nancy style, and let our mortal foe put his shoulder to 
 our wheel to help us out of the bog !" Fred said to him- 
 self, taking a proprietary view of the situation ; so, 
 imitating the major's actions, he soon leaped down the 
 sloping levee and stood by the wagon, slim and boyish, 
 but girded for effort. 
 
 " You are very good, sir," he said, in what he meant 
 to be extremely courteous terms, ' but I can't think 
 of such a thing as allowing you to exert yourself over 
 that wagon. It is my concern." 
 
 " Mr. Southmead, I suppose," said the major, eyeing 
 the boy pleasantly ; " we had better shake hands before 
 mine become too muddy to offer." He held out his hand, 
 and, somewhat to his own surprise, Fred was either 
 shaking or being shaken lustily by the hand the next 
 second. " Do you think you are equal to a rail ?" the
 
 3 o THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 major asked slowly, passing his hand down the boy's 
 
 slender arm in search of muscle. " Ever used boxing 
 
 gloves?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Fred, to the last question, quite un- 
 able to make up his mind as to whether he ought to 
 be angry and resent as an impertinence what, done as 
 it was, seemed a pleasant matter of course. 
 
 The large, clear gray eyes that were fixed pleasantly 
 on his face were so sensible and amiable that he could 
 not think this broad-shouldered athlete wanted to chaff 
 him. 
 
 "They've been the making of me," said the major, 
 tapping his chest. "Ah ! here comes our friend Ephe 
 with the rails." 
 
 Ephraim threw a pile of new rails down at the major's 
 feet. The young man selected one, and, walking around 
 to the opposite side of the wagon, he forced one end of 
 it into the soft mud under the hind wheel. 
 
 " Now, then, Mr. Southmead, if you will just take 
 hold here on this side, and I on the other, and press 
 downward with all your strength, I think we will soon 
 send Ephraim on his way rejoicing." 
 
 Ephraim seized the long reins and the fierce-sounding 
 whip in readiness for the major's word, " Go." The 
 mules had rested, and were willing to resume opera- 
 tions. One stentorian " Git up, mules !" from Ephe, a 
 jerk, and the wagon moved slowly off on to firmer 
 ground, leaving Fred red and breathless and hatless,
 
 ONE VIE W OF THE MAJOR. 3 I 
 
 while the major, giving his head a shake to readjust the 
 polo cap that had slipped over his brow, drew a com- 
 fortably long breath, and said, briskly, with his cheery 
 laugh : 
 
 " There ! Two men are better than six mules any 
 day. Been duck hunting? " 
 
 " No, sir ; I was just going for some, when I found 
 Uncle Ephe bogged." 
 
 " Well, Ephe's all right now ; what do you say to a 
 tramp with me? I understand from your father you 
 are. but freshly home, and I suppose you've had time 
 to forget some of your woodcraft." 
 
 "Ya'as, sir! Ephe's all right now," the old man 
 echoed with a joyous crack of his whip, " an' much 
 'bleege, boss; hopes to do es much fur you some day. 
 Git up, mules ! I boun' I don' wan' to be gittin' home 
 midnight." 
 
 " Thank you, Ephe, but I don't intend to get bogged 
 if I can help it," the major called after him. " Look 
 out for a bad place just this side of my gin gate ! 
 Now, then, Mr. Southmead, am I to have the pleasure 
 of your company?" 
 
 " I'll be glad to go," said Fred, and sprang back up 
 the levee after his coat and gun, wondering the while 
 if it was just right to fall into line so promptly, as he 
 put it to himself, with a man against whom he had 
 been nourishing a grudge for so long. But there really 
 seemed nothing else to do. His compunctions would
 
 3 2 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 have been lessened could he but have known that he 
 was experiencing the common fate of all who came 
 under the masterful influence of this man, who went 
 crashing through the briery woods with a long, free 
 stride that put Fred on his mettle to keep up. 
 
 " Going by one's self so much makes one selfish." 
 said the major, suddenly slacking his speed. " Why 
 didn't you tell me to hold up ? " 
 
 " Because I don't care to have you," said Fred, a 
 trifle blown. " I was just wishing I could get over the 
 ground as easily as you do." 
 
 "You will in time; that is, if you care to. You 
 chaps down here are more used to using horses' 
 legs than your own. I never used a piece of horseflesh 
 until I was far beyond your age." 
 " Is that so ? " 
 
 Fred felt, somehow, as if he had been accused and 
 apologized for in one breath. Yes, he was quite sure 
 he could not help liking this " Yankee interloper," 
 which was the way his mother generally spoke of the 
 new owner of Rossmere. Then he gave himself up 
 entirely to the keen enjoyment of duck-hunting with 
 the merriest possible companion. Now frightening the 
 shy squirrels with his clear, loud laugh a laugh sug- 
 gestive of a clean conscience and healthy lungs ; now, 
 by a rollicking view-halloo, scattering a drove of hogs, 
 grunting and squealing their protest at being inter- 
 rupted in a persimmon feast ; now swiftly swinging his
 
 ONE VIEW OF THE MAJOR. 33 
 
 gun into position to bear upon the blue-winged teal, or 
 the heavier mallard duck, that rose startled from the 
 reedy marshes of the duck-pond, only to meet sure 
 death on the wing and fall fluttering back to earth 
 this Yankee major comported himself more like a light- 
 hearted schoolboy out for a holiday than like a grim 
 invader who had arrogantly chosen to make his home 
 among the people he had helped conquer. 
 
 "I've had a tip-top time, and I'm sure I'm much 
 obliged to you, sir," said Fred, with boyish frankness, 
 when, later on, they stood where their roads separated. 
 
 " It is just the other way," said the major, heartily, 
 selecting, as he spoke, the finest brace of ducks in his 
 bag, and holding them out to ask, a trifle hesitantly: 
 
 " Might I venture to send these to Mrs. Southmead, 
 with my respects ? " 
 
 " I'm sure she ought to be very much obliged to you. 
 And, oh ! you know, I'm real glad you're coming to 
 us Christmas." 
 
 " So am I ! " said the major, nodding and turning off 
 in the direction of Rossmere. 
 
 " He walks like a race-horse," said Fred, looking back 
 over his shoulder. " I like him ! I don't think there's 
 any doubt about it. He's a gentleman, and he called 
 me Mr. Southmead. He doesn't look down on a fellow 
 that can't do every thing as well as he can himself." 
 
 Which was only one of many sides that Stirling 
 Denny offered to the critics,
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE MAJOR AT TIEVINA. 
 
 MRS. SOUTH MEAD could always be relied upon 
 for looking after the shadows, so to speak. To 
 the more superficial and frivolous members of the 
 family she generally left the consideration of apparent 
 sunshine and deceptive brightness. No doubt this 
 inviting the owner of Rossmere to dine with them on 
 Christmas was quite a satisfaction to Mr. Southmead, 
 who was shockingly democratic in his tendencies, and 
 was only too ready to be hail-fellow-well-met with any 
 one "half decent" ; but as for herself, she really could 
 not forget that her own father had been the first man 
 in the county to move in the matter of secession, her 
 own brother had been captain of the first company, the 
 "Tricot Rifles," that had gone to join " Daddy Price " 
 in Missouri ; and wasn't it her own very first cousin 
 that, in a perfect frenzy of patriotism, had burned down 
 his own house, with all its contents, books, pictures, 
 pianos, and everything, rather than run the risk of their 
 falling into the Yankees' hands ? True, the Yankees 
 never had come within twenty miles of the spot where
 
 THE MAJOR AT TIE VINA. 35 
 
 this costly holocaust had been offered up ; but, then, 
 poor dear Emerson had no means of knowing before- 
 hand that they wouldn't, and the glorious principle in- 
 volved was all the same ! Mrs. Southmead might feel 
 slightly befogged as to what principle was involved in 
 burning up all one's pretty belongings, but she would 
 not acknowledge as much for worlds. 
 
 How some people could forget so easily and forgive 
 so readily passed her comprehension ! There was 'Sula 
 as good a girl as ever lived ! 'Sula was a green, gawky 
 schoolgirl when she, Mrs. Southmead, had married her 
 uncle. Mrs. Southmead took considerable credit to 
 herself for 'Sula's subsequent elegance and beauty. 
 There was 'Sula, left a widowed bride by these very 
 men ; Major Denny presumably standing for the entire 
 federal army in Mrs. Southmead's cogitations; and yet 
 she was positively childish in the pleasure and the busy 
 interest she took in this dining ! Dining, indeed ! No, 
 Mrs. Southmead never expected to dine again. If she 
 could satisfy the actual cravings of nature henceforth, 
 she would ask no more. She only hoped the actual 
 cravings of this interloping major would be satisfied ; 
 she had her doubts about that too. Mrs. Southmead 
 was never without a good supply of doubts, of assorted 
 sizes and colors. 
 
 Mrs. Southmead turned herself deliberately about in 
 front of her dressing glass. " 'Sula certainly had per- 
 formed a miracle with that old ante bellum black silk.
 
 36 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE, 
 
 She hoped people would not accuse her of the extrava- 
 gance of buying a new silk dress when Mr. Southmead 
 could hardly keep his head above water." She started 
 nervously at the sound of her husband's voice out there 
 on the front gallery. It rang out in cheery welcome to 
 their mortal foe. 
 
 "Get down and come right in, sir. Just hitch "em 
 to the fence, major ; Ephe will take 'em to the stable 
 right off." 
 
 " Hitch 'em, take 'em." 
 
 Mrs. Southmead peeped cautiously through the slats 
 of the shutters. Her bedroom was on the right hand 
 of the central hall opposite the parlor. 
 
 Actually the man had come in a buggy drawn by a 
 pair of bays ! If she could go to a neighbor's in a dump- 
 ing cart, or a wagon with work mules in rope harness 
 nowadays, she was thankful. Fred had made such an 
 ado over this man's looks ever since he happened to 
 meet him in the woods and was treated decently by 
 him; she'd like to judge for herself! Well, he was 
 straight-limbed and strong-shouldered, but she could 
 pick out a dozen Southern men more so. He had a 
 fresh, ruddy look, and his eyes were clear and gray and 
 pleasant ; she could see that much, as he smiled up into 
 Mr. Southmead's face as he came up the walk. Mr. 
 Southmead called him a handsome man ! She did not; 
 most emphatically not. His chin was too square. 
 There was a hard look about the lower jaw, She didn't
 
 THE MAJOR AT TIEVINA. 37 
 
 suppose, if that man once made up his mind on a point, 
 there was any power on earth, perhaps none in heaven, 
 which could make him alter it. Really, she must say 
 he seemed quite at home. Not a single sign of embar- 
 rassment. One would expect dear ! he ran up the 
 steps like a boy ! She was back at the bureau now, 
 applying the brush to one of the smooth, glossy ban- 
 deaux that the window curtain had treated disrespect- 
 fully. Her door was opened to admit Mr. Southmead's 
 nose and voice : 
 
 " Mother, our friend has arrived ! " 
 
 Mrs. Southmead made a little grimace at the word 
 friend, then swept graciously into the presence of this 
 interloper, whom she meant to place entirely at his ease 
 for her husband's sake rather than his own. She had 
 even formulated a little salutatory speech which was to 
 convey in vague generalities a sense of magnanimity on 
 her part, and of being included in an amnesty on the 
 major's. But the easy courtesy and the cordial smile 
 with which he greeted his hostess were so express- 
 ive of civil rights and social equalities that Mrs. 
 Southmead's pre-arranged programme eluded her grasp 
 entirely, and she found herself stupidly telling Major 
 Denny in the most mendacious way she was glad 
 to see him, after which she plunged into the most 
 commonplace discussion of the weather and the 
 roads. 
 
 " For all the world, you know," she said to her own
 
 38 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 accusing conscience, " as if he had been an ordinary 
 guest, amenable to ordinary rules ! " 
 
 There had been ample time for the slight frostiness 
 that pervaded the social atmosphere in the big Tievina 
 parlor, in spite of Mr. Southmead's jocular efforts, to be 
 thawed out between the family and this stranger, whom 
 they certainly had not treated with neighborly kind- 
 ness heretofore, before Ursula glided through the door 
 that opened immediately into the dining-room to join 
 the group. 
 
 Carl had been exalted to a seat on the stranger's knee, 
 and seemed well satisfied with his location. Fred was 
 just wondering what the major would think of that 
 sweet-faced woman to whom his back was turned just 
 now. Mr. Southmead extended his hand to introduce 
 his niece. Carl threw the entire group on its beam- 
 ends. 
 
 " Mamma, what made you say his hands was dyed 
 red. They's jus' as white as mine!" and he placidly 
 laid one of his own small hands full length upon the 
 long, sinewy one that lay upon the major's knee. One 
 awful, soundless second intervened. 
 
 It was not the master of Rossmere who was covered 
 with confusion at this speech of the boy's. He simply 
 folded his other hand over the child's, and held it thus 
 while he stood up to be made known to Mrs. Ralston. 
 The whole family were ready to rise up and call Ursula 
 thrice blessed for demanding an introduction at that
 
 THE MAJOR AT TIE VINA. 39 
 
 particular juncture. How else could they have ever 
 clambered out of that abyss? 
 
 It was not 'Sula's style to gush over anyone. A 
 dainty reserve generally characterized her first greeting 
 of a stranger. It was as if she put them upon proba- 
 tion, for, once admitted to her friendship, she was loy- 
 ally true, but that admission was granted slowly. 
 Hence, no doubt, Major Denny was indebted to Carl 
 for the offering of her hand at first sight, in womanly 
 anxiety to do away with any discomfort the boy's luck- 
 less speech might have produced. As it was, by the 
 time they reached the Arabian test of amity, eating 
 salt together, things were in a most promising condi- 
 tion for the reconstruction of the entire Tievina estab- 
 lishment. 
 
 It is only under stress of weather that the true 
 Southerner allows himself to be immured within the 
 four walls of his house for other than sleepingor eating 
 purposes ; therefore, as the air on this particular Christ- 
 mas day was as balmy as a New England May day, the 
 major was marshaled by his host direct from the din- 
 ing-room to the big cane chairs that furnished the front 
 gallery summer and winter, where, with a box of cigars 
 between them, he and Mr. Southmead were at liberty 
 to discuss the political outlook of the county without 
 disquieting the women of the household, or the crop 
 prospect without wearying them. 
 
 Stirling Denny had elected to make his home in the
 
 4 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 South during what is now known as the carpet-bag era, 
 but such had been the dignity and circumspection of 
 his course that the most inimical among his neighbors 
 had never even remotely associated him with the gang 
 of unprincipled, pettifogging politicians who were even 
 then located at the county seat, and exerting their best 
 mental efforts for the subversion of law and order, with 
 a view to personal gain and their own election to office 
 through the franchise of the unlettered freedman. 
 Holding himself absolutely aloof from the boiling cal- 
 dron of petty local politics, it was yet a foregone con- 
 clusion that Major Denny was in sympathy with the 
 best social element of the neighborhood, and would, if 
 occasion demanded, show himself the foe of disorder 
 and misgovernment. 
 
 Mr. Southmead was the most undesigning of men. 
 When he selected a cigar for the major, and extended 
 a match, and settled himself comfortably in his big 
 chair, with his feet on the banister-rail of the gallery 
 and his cigar alight, he was indulging in no conscious 
 train of thought, much less in any intention to discuss 
 the political outlook. He was vaguely indulging in a 
 pleasant after-dinner consciousness that it was much 
 nicer having Denny sitting there on the gallery with 
 him in this genial way than stuck off at Rossmere by 
 himself. His own neighborly short-comings had set 
 heavily upon his warm heart, and "half of it had been 
 fear of Amelia," he acknowledged a trifle scornfully,
 
 THE MAJOR AT TIE VINA. 41 
 
 and Amelia had " caved " promptly. The fact was, 
 one had to like Denny ; there was no help for it. 
 
 The brown and stubbly fields of Tievina lay in 
 full view of the two men on the two sides of the house. 
 In front, ran the public road lying along the lake bank. 
 Down this road a mule presently trotted slowly into 
 view, his lazily lifted feet sending the rain-water that 
 lay in muddy pools in the roads slopping up against 
 his own flanks and his rider's legs. But his rider was 
 sublimely indifferent to such small discomforts, as, 
 with a shot-gun lying across the tall pommel of his 
 McClellan saddle, his hands clasped idly over it, the 
 rope bridle swinging free about his mule's neck, his head 
 dropped upon his breast, and his hat pulled well over 
 his eyes, he slopped along the road, trusting to his 
 mule's sagacity to be carried safely home, rather than 
 to his own besotted judgment. Mr. Southmead uttered 
 a contemptuous laugh as the deliberate mule trotted 
 leisurely out of sight with his drunken rider. 
 
 " Sam has a little too much Christmas aboard ! " 
 
 " Is that Sam Faythliss, the engineer on the Wal- 
 nut Grove place ? " the major asked, following the 
 mud-bespattered man and beast with his eyes. 
 
 " The same ! But his present claim to distinction 
 lies in his candidacy for the shrievalty of this county." 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 "But it is so." 
 
 " Can he write ? "
 
 4 2 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Nor read?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Is he a man of any especial amount of discrimina- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Unusually intelligent ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "What, then, are his qualifications for this office?" 
 
 Mr. Southmead broke out into a loud and uncon- 
 trollable fit of laughter. " My dear Denny," he said 
 finally, "you must excuse me. But your little cate- 
 chism sounded so extremely fresh and unsophisticated. 
 I had heard that you avoided our local politics as you 
 would the plague, and small blame to you. But I did 
 not suppose it was possible for any man to live in our 
 midst a whole year and not take in something by 
 absorption." 
 
 " You forget," said the major, in a quick, rebuking 
 voice, "that my only source of information, in the 
 absence of a county newspaper, or such intercourse as 
 my white neighbors have denied me, has been the 
 freedmen on my place, and from them I would not 
 accept it." 
 
 " It's a confounded shame that it has been so. For- 
 give me my share in it ! " Mr. Southmead impulsively 
 extended his hand, and the other grasped it warmly. 
 Then his host undertook to enlighten the major.
 
 THE MAJOR AT TIE VINA. 43 
 
 " Of course you've heard of Gays, Upps & Co., over 
 yonder at Laketown, the county seat? " 
 
 " I have heard that there were three men there 
 named respectively Gays, Upps, and Strouther. Law- 
 yers, are they not ? " 
 
 " Gays is a sort of civil engineer. Upps- ' Judge,' 
 they call him is a long-eared, crop-haired, carpet-bag- 
 ging rascal, who has done more toward demoralizing 
 the negroes in this county than any thing that could 
 be imagined ; and Strouther is a gentleman presumably 
 interested in the innocent occupation of bee culture, 
 who is working the county for all it is worth to get that 
 poor tipsy fool that passed here just now elected 
 sheriff, which will amount to getting the office himself. 
 Sam once in, Strouther is sure of being his deputy, 
 and it will amount to Sam having the experience and 
 Strouther the money." 
 
 " Then why don't Strouther run in the first place ? " 
 
 " Strouther run ! In this county ! And openly ! 
 I tell you, sir " 
 
 Mrs. Southmead woke with a jerk from the nap into 
 which she had fallen in her chair. 'Sula was placidly 
 crochetting on an afghan which no one ever expected 
 to see finished. Her aunt said, nervously : 
 
 " 'Sula, they are talking politics out there. Do start 
 something on the piano." 
 
 " They are both gentlemen ! " Mrs. Ralston's needle 
 pursued the even tenor of its way.
 
 44 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 " I don't care if they are. The time never will come 
 when such subjects will be safe. If you won't go to 
 the piano, I will ; and I know if he hears me playing 
 the Cracovienne he will be convinced he has wandered 
 into an ark. Dear me ! how cruelly stylish he did look 
 at dinner beside your poor dear uncle. " Mrs. South- 
 mead heaved one of her ever-ready sighs. 
 
 " Uncle George would look well in a gunny, 
 sack coat," said 'Sula, loyally. " But here comes 
 the coffee. That will be a better interruption than 
 music." 
 
 Aunt Nancy entered with the tray, on which were 
 half a dozen cups of rich black coffee, a tiny pitcher of 
 cream, and bowl of sugar. The after dinner coffee at 
 Tievina was always served an hour after the meal. Carl 
 was sent to summon the gentlemen from the gallery, and 
 'Sula folded up her work in preparation for serving the 
 coffee. 
 
 "One moment," said Major Denny, laying a detain- 
 ing hand on Mr. Southmead's shoulder. "I find myself 
 in doubt. Did you introduce your niece to me as Miss 
 or Mrs. Ralston ?" 
 
 " Mrs." Then, with the ready confidence character- 
 istic of him, Mr. Southmead added : " Our girl's story 
 is a sad romance. She was married one morning. Three 
 hours later her husband's company was ordered out of 
 the county to go to Virginia. Last heard of him, was 
 left behind in the retreat of the army from Nashville.
 
 THE MAJOR A T TIE VINA. 45 
 
 Very ill. Dead, of course. But not proven. Come ! 
 coffee don't improve by getting cold." 
 
 Major Denny glanced at the slim figure behind the 
 coffee tray with fresh interest as he took his seat beside 
 his hostess on the sofa. It certainly was a face full of 
 intelligent sweetness quite placid now ; in fact, much 
 more serene than that of her aunt, who had little lines 
 of perplexity and care criss-crossing each other over her 
 broad white forehead. He tried to imagine to himself 
 how that serene Mrs. Ralston looked when her bride- 
 groom was ordered from her arms to dare the fate of 
 battle. He tried to imagine how she bore first the wear- 
 ing suspense of uncertainty, and then the shock of 
 knowing her bridegroom was never to come back to her. 
 She did not look like a woman who had ever lived 
 down any terrible soul agony. There was a pathetic 
 droop about the corners of her sweet mouth that was 
 full of patient endurance ; but her brow was as smooth, 
 and the clear depths of her eyes as untroubled, as those 
 of a little child whose days pass like gleams of sun- 
 shine. 
 
 These two women were social studies to him. Their 
 lives were unlike the lives of their sisters in the more 
 crowded arena of the North ; or, in fact, of any women 
 whom he had ever met. Isolated, without society of any 
 sort, with no churches, no shops, no public entertain- 
 ments of any kind for mental refreshment, they yet, 
 through the medium of the papers and magazines that
 
 46 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 belittered the big table in the hall, were as completely 
 au courant with the world of fashion and of intellect 
 as if they had command of the Astor Library in New 
 York, or access to the bewildering mazes of its fashion- 
 able boulevards. There must be something in such 
 women. He should like to see a great deal of them. 
 He was quite sure he should especially like to cultivate 
 this Mrs. Ralston.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GROWTH OF A FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 IT is impossible to conceive of anything more smoothly 
 monotonous than the lives of these two women with 
 whom Stirling Denny now found himself on terms 
 of neighborly intercourse, and in whom he was about, 
 equally interested, although, perhaps, the halo of a 
 pathetic romance did tinge his bearing toward he pretty 
 young widow with a degree more of chivalric warmth. 
 Knowing the world through printed records of its 
 doings and happenings alone, their interest in it was 
 more that of spectators than actors in the great drama 
 called Life. Their hopes, plans, and ambitions were 
 all confined within the boundaries of the ragged osage- 
 orange hedging that defined Tievina against the rest of 
 the world. Tievina's possibilities gauged their proba- 
 bilities. Tievina's failure, their disappointments. 
 
 Mrs. Southmead would like Fred and Carl to be well 
 educated, and Mr. Southmead to " work out " of debt 
 to his commission merchants in New Orleans, and 
 " come out" with enough money to put a new roof on 
 the house, and perhaps buy her an Alderney cow. To 
 be sure, she would like once more in her life to own
 
 48 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 some sort of vehicle, but a buggy and an Alderney cow 
 would cost pretty much the same, and she supposed 
 more comfort could be extracted out of the cow in the 
 long run. She wished she was able to experiment with 
 some of the fancy breeds of poultry ; she was tempted 
 to invest in bronze turkeys at all hazards ; but there 
 was not much satisfaction in gratifying fancy tastes 
 with the levees either all down or depending on local 
 patchwork for repairs. If government ever did make 
 an appropriation for the improvement of the Missis- 
 sippi River, she intended to set out new orchards, and 
 have strawberries and raspberries and asparagus beds, 
 as she used to have them before the war. Ah ! people 
 lived in those days. 
 
 These innocent desires and hopes, generally includ- 
 ing the mention of the magazines and papers she and 
 'Sula had decided on for the coming year, formed the 
 safe topics of conversation between the mistress of 
 Tievina and the new man at Rossmere, who entered 
 into a discussion of them with vivid interest. Their 
 simple desires and matter-of-course deprivations came 
 to be discussed freely in the major's presence, as he, 
 following up that opening wedge of the Christmas din- 
 ner, promptly gained a friendly footing at Tievina. 
 There was something pathetic in women who spoke of 
 such desires as books and poultry as luxuries that 
 might be granted them in a brighter future. Extrava- 
 gances of dress, possessions of jewels, indulgences in
 
 THE GROWTH OF FRIENDSHIP. 49 
 
 any of the charming frivolities so dear to the sex 
 within the pale of city life, occupied no portion of their 
 thoughts or conversation. 
 
 'Sula's two dreams were, carrying Carl triumphantly 
 through the rudiments of his education, and the 
 redemption of the small, grassy little flower garden in 
 the rear of the house. With the florist's catalogue open 
 in her hand, she would expand upon her flower loves 
 and blossom hopes with a simple enthusiasm that 
 would bring a pretty flush to her cheeks and an eager 
 brightness to her eyes, causing Stirling. Denny to 
 experience a rash desire to fling his purse at her feet, 
 and beg her to indulge every ungratified longing in 
 that direction at his expense. 
 
 An extract from a letter written about this time by 
 Mrs. Ralston to Jennie Southinead, then absent at 
 boarding-school, will convey an idea of how things pro- 
 gressed between the new man at Rossmere and the 
 most conservative people in the country. It was evi- 
 dent 'Sula never once suspected that she and her aunt 
 were posing as curiosities for their Northern neighbor : 
 
 " Notwithstanding the fact that Uncle George, with 
 his unflagging dissertations about crops, the superiority 
 of buckshot land over sandy for cotton production, his 
 preference fora ' Henry ' over a ' Winchester' rifle, the 
 good and bad points of this setter or that pointer, the 
 habits and habitat of our swamp partridges and snipe, 
 can not but prove sometimes wearisome to such a man as
 
 50 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Major Denny, and that your mamma, dear soul ! will 
 sometimes forget, and touch on war times, from which 
 she dates every discomfort of her life, the ' new man 
 at Rossmere,' as they call him about here, seems 
 fairly well inclined to follow up our tardy overtures 
 of friendship by a neighborly cordiality which it 
 requires no great exertion of Christian charity on 
 our part to reciprocate. I think adaptability must 
 be one of our new friend's most shining attributes. 
 You know George Eliot says l the maggot must be 
 born in the cheese to like it,' and that element of 
 familiarity with his dismal surroundings is not 
 his. I should think life on a Southern plantation 
 would be very trying to him. It is evident the greater 
 part of his life has been spent in towns. He talks quite 
 knowingly of Wall Street. Sometimes auntie's curios- 
 ity runs away with her politeness, and she will let fall 
 an inquisitive remark about his immuring himself in the 
 wilds of Arkansas. He parries her thrust skillfully, 
 but, while leaving her uninformed, conveys the impres- 
 sion that necessity, not choice, has given him to us for 
 a neighbor. You ask me how he looks; all I can say 
 is, he suggests Hercules rather than Apollo. If I were 
 a man, I think I should think twice, perhaps oftener, 
 before provoking him to lift that strong right arm 
 against me. His head has a rough-hewn, massive look, 
 and his eyes, clear and gray, with heavy dark brows and 
 lashes to them, are as penetrating as a hawk's. Our
 
 THE GRO WTH OF FRIENDSHIP. 5 1 
 
 men, three in number, I would have you know, are ' his 
 
 
 
 truly.' I think when men do surrender it is more uncon- 
 ditionally than with women. Your father, Fred, and 
 Carl are outspoken in their admiration. Your mamma 
 is trying to effect a compromise with conscience, while 
 I well, I am your affectionate cousin, 
 
 " URSULA RALSTON." 
 
 Thus abruptly and airily Mrs. Ralston veered from 
 a pronounced opinion on her own part. She folded 
 and enveloped and stamped this letter, and carried it 
 immediately down-stairs. To-morrow was mail-day. 
 By daybreak old Ephraim would mount his mule, and, 
 with his oil-cloth bag slung over his shoulder, would ride 
 in to the "landing" with the week's accumulation of 
 letters, and bring back whatever the weekly packet 
 might have deposited, in way of news, for Tievina. 
 
 Mr. Southmead entered the sitting-room immediately 
 behind her with the blustering impetuosity of a whirl- 
 wind, his riding-whip in his hand, and his spurs still 
 strapped-to his heels. 
 
 " Well, wife, what do you suppose is the latest ? " he 
 asked, with the air of a person who has news so per- 
 fectly adapted to astound that he can afford to dally 
 with the curiosity of his hearers. 
 
 " I haven't the slightest idea. If you have any thing 
 at all to tell us, I wish you would do it without so much 
 preliminary ado." 
 
 'V Preliminary ado ! ' This is an occasion which de-
 
 5 2 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 mands preliminary ado and an exercise of extreme dis- 
 crimination beforehand, in order to superinduce proper 
 assimilation subsequently," said Mr. Southmead, throw- 
 ing this grandiose sentiment in one direction and his 
 hat and whip in another, as he seats himself to enjoy 
 his wife's evident eagerness. 
 
 " George, you can be so very silly for a man of your 
 age. You know the old adage ? " 
 
 "About old fools? Now, that is a remarkable coin- 
 cidence ! Old fools is the text of my remarks. At 
 least, an old fool." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Squire Thorn." 
 
 Mrs. Southmead sat bolt upright in her rocking- 
 chair, the acme of interest on her part reached. 
 
 " What of him ? " 
 
 " He is married." 
 
 " ' Married ! ' Mr. Southmead, I don't believe you." 
 
 " I'm not at all surprised. I don't believe I would 
 have believed it if I had not seen it." 
 
 " ' It ! ' Did Squire Thorn marry an it ? " 
 
 "The presumption is he married a woman. The 
 strange part is that a woman should have married 
 him. " 
 
 " I wish you would tell your story as correctly as you 
 can, Mr. Southmead." 
 
 "Well, I believe I've about told it all in an ejacula- 
 tory fashion. As Denny and I stopped at the cross-roads,
 
 THE GROWTH OF FRIENDSHIP. 53 
 
 on our way back from the snipe ground by the way, 
 Carl, step into the kitchen and tell Aunt Nancy not to 
 cook those snipe to a cinder to-night old Thorn's team 
 came jolting by with two or three trunks in the wagon, 
 and close behind, on the squire's white mare, rode 
 Deb, his stock-minder. It was such an unusual sight, 
 any body astride of ' Old Whitey ' but the squire him- 
 self, that I took it upon me to ask Deb what was up. 
 The scamp doubled himself up as if he'd been seized 
 with sudden cramps, and answered, ' De ole man's 
 ahead in his kerridge wid de young missus.' ' Young 
 missus!' I echoed, and then he told me that the 
 squire had brought a wife home from Alabama. 
 Came up on the Grand Republic to-day." 
 
 " Mr. Southmead, do you suppose any man could 
 have the effrontery to take a woman to such a place as 
 Thorndale ? " 
 
 " It seems the squire has." 
 
 " I pity that woman ! From my heart I do." 
 
 " Don't be premature. Let us wait until she 
 demands it. Maybe they are a match." 
 
 " A match ! Squire Thorn's match was never cast 
 in feminine mold. She must needs be homely, 
 penurious, and crabbed in temper to match him." 
 
 " On the contrary, Deb says she's the handsomest 
 ' w'ite lady in these parts.' " 
 
 " No doubt Deb is an excellent judge," said Mrs. 
 Southmead, loftily.
 
 54 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 " Well, we will have to hold our opinion of Mrs. 
 Thorn in abeyance until we have paid our bridal 
 call." 
 
 "Bridal call! I'm not so sure we are called on to 
 indorse Squire Thorn's folly to that extent, Mr. 
 Southmead." 
 
 " Indorse him ! Why, bless my soul, I am grateful 
 to him. I regard every man who imports a white face 
 into this neighborhood as a benefactor of his race ! I 
 am grateful to the squire for helping recivilize the old 
 county. I consider he has acted in the interests of his 
 section." 
 
 Mrs. Southmead cut short this vivacious indorsement 
 of the squire. " I hope his wife will be able to share 
 your enthusiasm over her husband at the end of her 
 honeymoon. As for myself, I can not say I derive 
 much comfort from seeing the old plantations fill up 
 with every sort of person." 
 
 " By George ! If by every sort of person you mean 
 Denny," said Mr. Southmead, ever on the alert in 
 defense of his new friend, "it is a great pity the 
 country can't be filled up with every sort of per- 
 son." 
 
 " Mr. Denny is rather a remarkable man." Mrs. 
 Southmead ignored the major's title, as if thereby to 
 cancel his war record. " But I can not quite forget 
 what his relations to us were during war times. There
 
 THE GROWTH OF FRIENDSHIP. 55 
 
 is a lingering sense of discomfort that will not down, 
 even when he is most brilliantly entertaining." 
 
 "A lingering sense of fiddlesticks, my dear! 
 meaning no disrespect to you. As for me, I hope 
 Major Denny and Mrs. Squire Thorn will prove them- 
 selves the pioneers of a new social order among us. 
 We are absolutely musty. We need one or two reno- 
 vators badly enough." 
 
 " I am afraid Ursula, with that foolishly warm heart 
 of hers, will be hankering to welcome this new-comer. 
 We must not be premature, dear. The woman who 
 could marry Squire Thorn can not be much of an 
 acquisition." 
 
 Mrs. Southmead's ever anxious soul turned to this 
 fresh phase of the subject. 'Sula was an excellent 
 creature in most respects, but she needed pruning in 
 the region of her heart. Her sympathies were entirely 
 of too rank a growth ; they spread out in every 
 direction, threatening to choke with their luxuriant 
 offshoots and clinging tendrils every avenue of 
 approach to her reason. 'Sula was accustomed to this 
 little air of patronage on the part of the aunt, who was 
 really one of her dependencies, but she was one of 
 those wise women who never fought windmills. She 
 was busy during the discussion gathering the scat- 
 tered letters and buttoning them up in the mail- 
 bag. 
 
 " I agree with uncle and you both, Aunt Amelia,"
 
 3 6 THE NEW MAN AT ROSS MERE. 
 
 she said. " I think we need an influx of new people, 
 but I doubt if Squire Thorn could import the right 
 sort. But, of course, we will call in due course of 
 time and judge for ourselves." 
 
 Which ended the discussion of Mrs. Thorn for that 
 time.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE THORNS AT HOME. 
 
 IN the meantime, all unconscious of the lively interest 
 their arrival was creating in the breasts of the few 
 who knew of it, the Thorns were approaching the old 
 house hidden away behind a double row of gloomy 
 cedars, and known as " Thomdale," as fast as a very 
 tired pair of mules could drag a very frail vehicle, 
 whose wheels creaked and groaned from excessive 
 dryness in the wooden parts of them, and from exces- 
 sive rustiness in the iron parts of them, through the 
 somber woods where the road, hard enough to traverse 
 by the aid of the brightest sunlight, was now obscured 
 by the shadows of the dense forest-growth and the dark- 
 ness of approaching night, to such an extent that if 
 the driver and his mules had not possessed an intuitive 
 sense superior to the organ of sight or the faculty of 
 memory, the Thorns would have run serious risk of 
 spending the night in the damp and stumpy woodland 
 that formed a portion of Squire Thorn's ancestral 
 acres. 
 
 If the veil of darkness had not been charitably cast 
 about the carriage thus jolting over the tree stumps and
 
 58 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 into the sunken wagon ruts for which that strip of 
 woodland was deservedly famous, Squire Thorn him- 
 self might have been commented upon as looking essen- 
 tially ancestral ; the grayness and the ruggedness of 
 him seemed so entirely in keeping with the gray-bearded 
 and gnarly-rooted trees around him. 
 
 The new possessor of his name, toward whom he 
 glanced every little while with satisfaction evidently 
 tinctured with nervousness, presented a sharp physical 
 contrast to him in every respect. But, then, the squire 
 seemed fated only to attract attention by some such 
 sharp antagonism as was presented by his harsh home- 
 liness to his wife's rich, warm beauty of form and color. 
 
 He was called one of the representative men of his 
 county. So was Mr. George Southmead. The two 
 men were as far asunder in every mental and moral 
 characteristic as if they had been born at the opposite 
 poles, centuries of time intervening. Throughout the 
 entire year, with the exception of the two hot months 
 of August and September, he had, heretofore, lived 
 alone with his plantation hands for all company beyond 
 an occasional ride on old Whitey out to the landing to 
 see about shipping cotton to New Orleans, or ordering 
 meal and pork from St. Louis. He attended as assidu- 
 ously to his planting interests as if he were not already 
 secured from possibility of need in his old age, or as if 
 he had a host of successors to inherit his carefully gar- 
 nered income ; whereas, so far as anyone knew to the
 
 THE THORNS A T HOME. 59 
 
 contrary, the name of Thorn would expire with himself. 
 "And small loss to the world," Mrs. Southmead would 
 add tartly. Where one person would pityingly speak 
 of Squire Thorn as a "lonely old man," three would 
 energetically add, "he deserved to be." The two 
 " sickly months," as August and September were locally 
 designated, Squire Thorn annually dedicated to recu- 
 peration. As that season rolled around he would be 
 seen divested of the stringless shoes and collarless shirt 
 and lint-covered plantation suit of gray jeans which 
 were as well known in the neighborhood as was old 
 Whitey, the " flea-bitten " gray mare he had been rid- 
 ing for ten years, and, clothed with an assumption of 
 style that only brought the hard rough hands, the 
 coarse yellow skin, the unkempt gray beard, and the 
 general roughness of the man into startling relief, amb- 
 ling leisurely down to the river landing to " hail in " 
 the first upward bound boat. His departure never 
 caused so much as a ripple in the social circle of which 
 he was nominally a member. People would say, " Old 
 Thorn's off to the mountains," when he went ; when 
 he returned they would say " Old Thorn's back again, 
 looking ten years younger." But it never occurred to 
 anyone that this rejuvenation of the squire's was cause 
 for rejoicing or congratulation. 
 
 Gossip is at a discount in such a neighborhood as we 
 are dealing with ; a happy state of affairs, which is 
 more the result of topography than any moral supe-
 
 60 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 riority on the part of its inhabitants. When a woman's 
 nearest neighbor is six miles off, with impassable roads 
 intervening for months together, she learns to digest 
 the most astounding local happenings in silent forti- 
 tude, or, by viewing them from every point of view, as 
 she has ample opportunity for, before she can possibly 
 impart them again, resolves the news into its original 
 nothingness, not worthy of being hawked in a market 
 where novelty is a prerequisite. 
 
 This is why neither the departure of a first Mrs. 
 Thorn, who, finding life plus the squire too heavy 
 a burden to be borne, had quietly slipped her moorings 
 one summer day eight years gone now, nor the arrival 
 of another woman who had rashly lifted that burden 
 once more, was calculated to stir the sparse neighbor- 
 hood to more than a glimmer of interest. In fact, 
 after Mr. Southmead and the major had heard the news 
 from Deb, and the former had retailed it to his wife 
 and Ursula, there was no one to hear it, maybe, for 
 days and days to come. 
 
 Mrs. Thorn stirred slightly in her corner of the car- 
 riage, and looked out of the window at a tall brick 
 chimney-stack which loomed majestically skyward, as 
 the woods suddenly terminated in the edge of a 
 clearing, and the driver sprang nimbly to his feet to 
 open an unseen gate. 
 
 " I thought you was asleep ! There's your gin-house, 
 Mrs. Thorn. We are going through your first gate
 
 THE THORNS A T HOME. 6 1 
 
 now ! You are almost home. You can see the lights 
 in the gable-end of your house yonder," the squire 
 says, quite as if he were conscientiously minded to 
 put into practice the endowment clause of the marriage 
 ceremony that had so lately given him that handsome 
 wife of his. 
 
 " The gin-house promises well. It has quite a stately 
 look. But, as I have never trained my eyes to pierce 
 Stygian blackness, I can't say that I see the house," 
 came in languid response from Mrs. Thorn's corner. 
 
 " Stygian which ? If you'll crane your neck around 
 Ben's back a little, you can see something." 
 
 Mrs. Thorn yawned audibly, and apologized politely. 
 
 " I hope your people will have a good supper for us. 
 This three hours' ride over these terrible roads has left 
 me famished and exhausted." 
 
 " I hope you ain't easily knocked up," the squire 
 says, with anxious memories of doctors' bills and medi- 
 cine bottles intruding themselves. "Yes! old Lucy'll 
 have something for you to eat. Hurry up the mules, 
 Ben." 
 
 Mrs. Thorn shivered not from cold and relapsed 
 into silence. And, the next morning, when the squire's 
 wife opened her eyes for a first daylight view of her new 
 home, she shivered again, not with cold, for it was the 
 sixth day of April, and the air was soft and balmy, 
 while from the swaying branches of a locust tree, whose 
 white flower cones tapped the shutters of her chamber,
 
 62 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 swinging their sweet incense on the fresh morning air, 
 she heard the varied but disconnected notes of two 
 rival mocking-birds sure sign that spring's supremacy 
 was fairly'established, and that the balmy air was no 
 temporary freak. 
 
 Mrs. Thorn sat bolt upright in bed, and took her first 
 leisurely survey of her bridal chamber. It was not a 
 reassuring outlook. The original " Thorn " who had 
 built the house had started it in a spirit of concession 
 to feminine exactions. The overseer's house had been 
 " good enough for him " until, in an indiscreet moment, 
 he had sought the Widow Hamlin in matrimony. The 
 widow had led him on, to the pitch of building this 
 house at Thorndale, and completing it as far as it ever 
 had been completed, then suddenly concluded to sell 
 out her own place and move to Texas, which she had 
 done with heartless indifference to her suitor's crushed 
 hopes and useless expenditure. The present Thorn had 
 become master of Thorndale just before the war (the 
 universal point of departure of the South). He had 
 always intended to finish the house, but never had. 
 Before the war he had use for but a portion of it ; 
 during the war he didn't know what moment he might 
 be " run out " of it ; and since the war he had been too 
 poor. 
 
 So the room upon which Mrs. Thorn's handsome eyes 
 rested with grave inspection was not an elegant one in 
 any respect. The rough-hewn rafters were in full view
 
 THE THORNS AT HOME. 63 
 
 overhead, now dark with the smoke of many fires. The 
 side walls had been planked up to within about two feet 
 of the point where a ceiling would have begun, then 
 suddenly ceased, leaving ample and unique space for 
 ventilation running around the two inner walls. This 
 plank partition and the brick chimney which stood re- 
 vealed from the broad hearth up to the point where it 
 pierced the pointed gable up there among the smoky 
 rafters, had once boasted a coat of whitewash. The 
 smoke had done its part by the whitewash too. A very 
 tall mantelpiece of unpainted white pine wood spanned 
 an extremely spacious fireplace, about which a broad 
 brick hearth was laid, whose surface was sunken into 
 many hollows by the weight of the heavy sticks of 
 wood used on the big iron fire-dogs, setting back in the 
 black, cavernous chimney. These fire-dogs were an- 
 cestral and rickety and unsatisfactory, as the majority 
 of the squire's possessions were. They were like ill- 
 assorted couples of a higher order. Having never been 
 meant for mates, they bore the burdens cast upon them 
 unevenly and unhelpfully. Enforced companionship 
 only made their incompatibility the more patent. One 
 leaned one way, and the other another. Crooked inde- 
 pendence and nominal companionship was all they had 
 ever attained unto. "Blinds" of green and white 
 striped cotton " drilling," held rigidly perpendicular by 
 little round sticks slipped into broad hems at the bot- 
 tom, secured Mrs. Thorn's privacy. An ink-stained
 
 64 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 writing-desk, where the squire kept his cotton books 
 and wrote his few business letters ; a bureau whose lost 
 casters had been replaced by plugs of brown paper and 
 chips of wood; a table with one leaf gone, and an 
 alarming appearance of decrepitude about the legs ; a 
 rocking-chair, with one arm, and a sunken seat of deer- 
 hide, with the hair on ; a hideous eight-day clock, with 
 a harsh voice, and a lady in a low-necked red dress with 
 a big red rose in her very black hair ornamenting the 
 glass door; a blue and white patchwork quilt on the 
 bed, which was guiltless of a tester completed the in- 
 ventory of unlovely objects upon which Mrs. Thorn's 
 eyes opened. Her own trunks arranged against the 
 wall were the only familiar objects that met her gaze, 
 and they, in their portly elegance, looked as much out 
 of place as she felt. 
 
 She shuddered as the memory of the supper-table 
 over which she had presided the night before rushed 
 over her. She stretched her hands despairingly out over 
 the blue and white patchwork quilt, but drew them 
 quickly back with a gesture of disgust. She loathed 
 patchwork quilts; she loathed patchwork of any sort 
 all the while, perhaps, bitterly conscious that she was 
 making a very sorry piece of patchwork out of her own 
 life. 
 
 The harsh-voiced clock struck seven. She supposed 
 she ought to be up. The clock's voice made her think 
 of Squire Thorn's. He had gotten up at the first peep
 
 THE THORNS AT HOME. 65 
 
 of daylight through the green and white blinds, and 
 had gone clattering noisily about in his heavy mud 
 boots through the bare-floored halls and the long gal- 
 leries. It was a prime article of Squire Thorn's belief 
 that to get up at the merciless hours of four in sum- 
 mer and six in winter must result in his ultimate health, 
 wealth, and wisdom. It mattered very little that things 
 on his place were notoriously at sixes and sevens ; that 
 his stock and his flocks of sheep were diminishing with 
 suspicious rapidity ; that his fields bristled with ambi- 
 tious young shrubs and saplings ; that his cabins were 
 more shackling and unsafe than any body else's. All 
 that was the inevitable outcome of " freedom." He 
 did his duty by getting up at daybreak, mounting old 
 Whitey and riding through the quarter lot, where a 
 few sleepy curs yelped drowsily at his heels, or a plow- 
 man or two would leisurely nod to him, as with bridles 
 and collars thrown across their shoulders they would 
 saunter in the direction of the mule lot. Squire Thorn 
 hoped much from the moral effect of his own presence 
 so early in the morning ; after which he was content to 
 return to the house and sit with idly folded hands, 
 ruminating, with knitted brows, as he chewed savagely 
 upon the ends of his wiry gray mustache, until the 
 mules entered the lot hard by to be breakfasted. 
 On this especial morning, with amiable considera- 
 tion, he had informed his wife he "wouldn't hurry 
 her. He reckoned she was sorter wore out with her
 
 00 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE 
 
 trip. She could take her breakfast just when she'd a 
 mind to." 
 
 She had heard him go down the few steps that led 
 from the gallery to the yard and canter away on old 
 Whitey. Had she been awake or dreaming since those 
 early morning sounds ? She was afraid she had been 
 wickedly self-indulgent in that time. It was no por- 
 tion of her intention to look back now that she had 
 put her hand to the plow. She would be ready for 
 breakfast at the usual hour. Half-past seven, the old 
 woman who was housekeeper and cook and chamber- 
 maid all in one old Lucy had said was the breakfast 
 hour at Thorndale. 
 
 Do what she would, Mrs. Thorn looked absurdly 
 incongruous as she came out of her room at the start- 
 ling summons of a bell which had been selected with a 
 view to summoning the squire from a distance. Follow- 
 ing the sound of this bell, she found herself in the long 
 back gallery, at one end of which the bell-ringer, 
 planted on the lower rail of the banisters, extended her 
 arm full length, to send the clamorous summons as far 
 as possible. Mrs. Thorn stood motionless until the 
 clangor ceased and Aunt Lucy climbed down from the 
 banisters. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Thorn, Aunt Lucy?" 
 
 " Down t' crib, I 'lows. He mos' genully sees t' put- 
 tin' out de feed hisseff. He's a stirrer, he is ! Fo' de 
 lam', but you is a rale fine bird, sho',"
 
 7'HE THORNS A T HOME. 67 
 
 Aunt Lucy put the bell on the lintel over the door, 
 and, wiping her hands on her blue checked apron, coolly 
 proceeded to " feel of " the crisp silk plaitings on Mrs. 
 Thorn's merino wrapper. 
 
 " Does y' dress dis way ev'y day en Sun'y too, 
 honey? " 
 
 The squire's wife laughed. A laugh became her 
 admirably. 
 
 " 'Cause ef you does, thar'll be trouble 'twix' you en 
 him, chile. I gives you fa'r warnin'. Watch my 
 words, chile. He's a close 'un, he is. It'll mouty nigh 
 mek him sick t' think uv you er sloshin' sech a coat es 
 thet out ev'y day. .One trip cross de mud t' de hen- 
 house '11 'bout finish dat coat." 
 
 "Is breakfast ready ? If it is, bring it in." Mrs. 
 Thorn's voice was coldly authoritative. This sudden 
 and stately assertion of authority on the part of the 
 new mistress was injudicious. Aunt Lucy had been 
 supreme in authority up to that moment. She resented 
 this rude dethronement. She turned away in wrath- 
 ful silence, and Mrs. Thorn walked away to examine 
 the front premises, in happy ignorance that she had 
 made an implacable foe of her cook. 
 
 Notwithstanding their best efforts in that line, the 
 Thorns had never succeeded in quite shearing nature 
 of her beauty. As is the fashion where land is more 
 plentiful than any thing else, the front yard at Thorn- 
 dale comprised several acres of ground, in which grew
 
 68 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 a dozen or more grand old oaks, towering cottonwoods, 
 and, in spasmodic recognition of the beautiful, some 
 owner had planted crape-myrtles profusely in the 
 spaces between the natural growth. These in their 
 season beautified the premises with a soft pink flush 
 that was a pleasant relief from the universal greenness. 
 On one side of the premises was an orchard, where the 
 plum trees were in full bloom, and the peach trees were 
 putting out tentative blossoms. A purple wisteria 
 clambered carelessly about a slim young locust tree so 
 near the gallery that Mrs. Thorn could stretch her 
 hand to where its purple cones mingled with the white 
 clusters of the locust, in sweet confusion. 
 
 A one-sided view of Thorndale would have given 
 either an entirely pleasant or unpleasant impression. 
 Turning from the blossom-clouds out yonder in the 
 orchard and the nearer beauty of wisteria and locust- 
 bloom, Mrs. Thorn faced immediately toward a rail- 
 inclosed lot where twenty or thirty mules were stand- 
 ing on either side of a huge trough, taking their break- 
 fast with their work-harness jangling about their necks 
 and heels. A drove of hogs of all ages and sizes 
 struggled and grunted with reckless disregard for the 
 forest of hoofs beneath which they wrangled for the 
 fallen grain. Old Whitey, with his bridle-bit swinging 
 loose upon his neck, grazed about the lot, making the 
 best of the short respite between the mules' feeding 
 time and the master's. The master himself was
 
 THE THORNS AT HOME. 69 
 
 perched on the top rail of the fence, maintaining his 
 precarious position by hitching his feet under a lower 
 rail. He was whittling and watching to see that the 
 feed was not stolen from his work-mules to sustain the 
 pigs and poultry of some " cussed free darkey." With 
 his hat pushed far back on his head, he had a keenly 
 alert look suggestive of a ferret on the lookout at a 
 rat's hole. He was not a comely object. Mrs. Thorn's 
 glance did not rest peacefully on that side of her new 
 home. She turned back to the wisteria, and crushed 
 a purple cluster in her hand with a merciless gesture.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 
 
 WHEN Mr. Southmead, the evening before, had 
 brought his short biographical notice of Squire 
 Thorn to a close, he and Major Denny, with whom he 
 had spent the afternoon snipe-hunting, separated at 
 the forks of the road with that inevitable hand-grip 
 which must be given, according to the effusive cordial- 
 ity of Southerner, even where two restless horses enter 
 a dumb protest against the uselessness of such gush by 
 putting sudden and inconvenient space between the 
 clasped hands. 
 
 The major rode slowly homeward through the darken- 
 ing woods. The horse he bestrode knew the road better 
 than he did. It had been a part of his purchase when 
 he had suddenly concluded to make his home on a 
 cotton plantation. With his hands clasped over the gun 
 that lay across the pommel of his saddle, h-e whistled 
 a light tune in the absent-minded fashion men have 
 when their thoughts are busy with weightier things, 
 while their souls are attuned to peaceful harmony. 
 Stirling Denny's nature was essentially a healthy one.
 
 THE MAJOR A T HOME. 7 1 
 
 Things had not gone with him just as he had intended 
 they should when he was mapping out his campaign 
 for life in his arrogant youth. Then the world had 
 bee_n little more than a pebble in a sling; since then he 
 had come to regard himself as the pebble and the 
 world as the sling which is the beginning of wisdom. 
 Some contend that a man's temperament is entirely a 
 matter of good digestion, cheerfulness and a healthy 
 liver being synonymous terms. If this be so, then the 
 major did not deserve any special credit for that se- 
 renity and cheerful equilibrium that made him at all 
 times so delightful a companion. 
 
 He was well beloved by the people on Rossmere. As 
 he reached the big white gate that opened from his 
 field into the road along the river front, a trio of small 
 darkeys rushed tumultuously from the nearest cabin, 
 and six small black hands clutched emulously at. the 
 big wooden latch to open the gate for " Boss." Which 
 term is the universal compromise between ante bellum 
 servility and the formal requirements of freedom. 
 " Massa " is too obsolete, and " Mr." too repellent. 
 
 A few yards more, and he was at his own gate. The 
 fence was in an unregenerate condition. It was as he 
 had found it, not as he intended it should be. The 
 needs of the plantation are always paramount to those 
 of the family. At present, the major's family consisted 
 of himself alone. He never passed through this rickety 
 front gate without picturing to himself the sort of gate
 
 72 THE NE IV MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 he intended to have when he should have put new 
 roofs on all the cabins, repaired the gin house, and 
 built a decent corn-crib. He glanced toward the large 
 house, in which he had so much more room than he 
 well knew what to do with, locating his imaginary gate 
 on an air line with the big front door. The bull-bats 
 were circling low in swift search for their supper of 
 insects. The fireflies glanced in and out the dark 
 cedar branches like living sparks. The faint perfume 
 of the early hyacinths left by his predecessors floated 
 in the still air. It was a peaceful sort of solitude he 
 lived in, with no room for gloom nor possibility of dis- 
 cord. The white gleam of a newspaper flung on the 
 floor by some one who rose suddenly from one of the 
 large gallery chairs caused the major to start in sur- 
 prise. He had left no one behind him capable of read- 
 ing a newspaper, and had extended no invitations for 
 visits from his former associates at the North. Mr. 
 Southmead was the only white man who had entered 
 those doors since he had been the owner of Rossmere, 
 and him he had just left miles away. The reader had 
 discovered him in the act of dismounting, and slowly 
 descended the steps, as if not quite certain of his wel- 
 come. His garb was somewhat seedy, but his bearing 
 was that of a gentleman. While his form was slighter 
 and his face less strongly marked than the major's, 
 there was considerable likeness between the two men. 
 " How are you, Stirl?" He extended his hand with
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 73 
 
 a nervous attempt at ease as they came together in the 
 walk. 
 
 "Manton ! " 
 
 "There's more surprise than welcome in your voice," 
 said the major's uninvited guest, with an uneasy 
 laugh. 
 
 " It's an undoubted surprise. I thought you were 
 in Europe. I did not know half a dozen people knew 
 of my present location. How did you discover it ?" 
 
 Major Denny led the way back to the portico, his 
 guest by his side. It was evident both men were ill at 
 ease. 
 
 " You have no reason to go into hiding," said the 
 new-comer, rather surlily, as they reached the gallery 
 and he picked up the paper he had thrown down, fold- 
 ing it up with unnecessary precision as a sort of vent 
 for his embarrassment. 
 
 " None, individually ; only, when a man has started 
 out in life with big ideas of what he is going to do, and 
 finds himself about as insignificant as a fly on an 
 ox's horn, he don't care to pose before the world as an 
 exemplar or a warning to posterity; he prefers to efface 
 himself. Had any thing to eat since you came? " 
 
 " Nothing since leaving the boat at your landing." 
 
 "Where are you from immediately? " 
 
 " Memphis." 
 
 The major disappeared within doors. When he 
 returned, he said in a voice not yet entirely divested
 
 74 THJt: NE W MA N AT ROSSMERE, 
 
 of a certain resentful coldness : " Margaret will attend 
 to your wants. Will you smoke before tea ? " 
 
 " No, thanks ! You are snug here. You always did 
 land on your feet." 
 
 Major Denny lighted a cigar, and puffed at it in 
 silence, if not in serenity. The other man spoke again 
 presently in a weakly, complaining manner: 
 
 "And I on my back ! I've had a deuced hard time, 
 Stirl, since I saw you last. Wall Street played the very 
 mischief with me." 
 
 " Wall Street has a good deal to answer for," Stirling 
 said, in a coldly unsympathetic voice. 
 
 "Without adding my sins to it, you mean ! You are 
 as plain-spoken as ever. The construction of your sen- 
 tence is skillful." 
 
 "When did you return from Europe?" 
 
 " I have been back a year." 
 
 "A year! Do you regard coming back at all a sen- 
 sible or a safe thing ? What have you been doing since 
 your return ? " 
 
 " Nothing." He contented himself with answering 
 the last question only. 
 
 " H'm ! Do you find it profitable ? " 
 
 "Do I look as if I did? I'm as seedy as a beggar. 
 You are dressed like a gentleman. But you always did 
 have the luck of it." 
 
 " What are your plans for the future ? You know I 
 don't believe in luck."
 
 THE MAJOR A T HOME. 75 
 
 "Plans? I can't say that I. have any beyond my 
 present intention of paying my brother Major Stirling 
 Denny a good long visit." 
 
 " A little cool, aren't you ? " 
 
 The major laughed in a mirthless sort of way. 
 
 " No simply desperate. You won't drive me away, 
 Stirling. I know you are not glad to see me. I did 
 not expect you would be. Nobody ever is. But you'll 
 not drive me away, I'm sure of that. For mother's 
 sake you will let me stay." 
 
 He had touched the right chord. 
 
 " Poor, dear mother ! " 
 
 Stirling Denny's voice softened over the words ; then, 
 rising suddenly, he went and stood over the brother 
 whom he had not seen for fifteen years, whom he had 
 never desired to see again ; for, as far back as memory 
 went, Manton Denny had been a source of sorrow and 
 trouble to every one connected with him ; and it had 
 only been through the major's own individual efforts 
 that the name of Denny had been rescued from down- 
 right disgrace. He had given up his entire patrimony 
 and a large share of his earnings as a lawyer to clear 
 Manton from the peril of exposure in a very scandalous 
 transaction, and had breathed freely only when he had 
 put the ocean between himself and the brother who was 
 a source of anxiety and nothing more. Indeed, it was 
 Manton's fault that he was now an obscure cotton 
 planter, making the best of a dismal necessity, rather
 
 76 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 than a lawyer at the brilliant bar of New York City. 
 The name of Denny had been smirched there by his 
 brother, and the entire place grew unendurable by con- 
 sequence. He had looked forward to an aftermath of 
 peace and comfort in this obscure corner of the earth, 
 which might, perhaps, compensate him, in a measure, 
 for the brilliant prospects he had been compelled to 
 yield up. As he looked down now upon Manton, vigor- 
 ous, handsome, youthful, he wondered that so fair a 
 seeming should have so little support from moral sense 
 or moral courage. Something had always been lacking 
 to this brother of his. He dared not hope that time 
 had supplied that something. 
 
 " Manton," he said, with a sternness that became his 
 strong physique better than smiles, " you have asked 
 a great favor of me for our mother's sake. I do not 
 want you here. I came here to be at peace. I can not 
 say yet that I will consent to your making this your 
 permanent home. I sound ungracious. I feel so. I 
 can not entirely forget what you have made me suffer. 
 Here there will be absolutely no opportunity for the 
 exercise of your evil proclivities. That your proclivi- 
 ties are still evil your penniless condition betrays. If 
 you stay with me, I shall expect you to assume certain 
 duties, and to perform them. You have asked me in 
 our mother's name to receive you. How often have I, 
 in the wretched past, pleaded vainly with you in her 
 dear name "
 
 THE MAJOR A T HOME. 77 
 
 " Curse it all !" Manton broke in, wrathfully. "If 
 you have turned preacher, tell me so, and let me move 
 on. I don't care to be impaled on a fresh pin at every 
 turn. I've come here for a rest. I doubt very much if 
 I could exist among your bats and frogs very long. I 
 don't feel altogether like an interloper. I suppose I 
 have some right here. I take it for granted you bought 
 this place with father's money." 
 
 " You take too much for granted. Every cent of our 
 father's money went to keep you out of " Stirling 
 stopped, sighed, and added : " This is my home, Man- 
 ton. You shall remain a guest in it so long " 
 
 " As I behave myself," the other said, with a mirth- 
 less laugh. " You have not forgotten your old 
 trick of pressing down the links into the festering 
 flesh." 
 
 " I have no desire to press down the links. I only 
 wish I could honestly make you cordially welcome. I 
 simply wished we should understand each other at the 
 outset." 
 
 He stepped down into the yard, lighted a fresh cigar, 
 and walked out through the gate to the river bank, 
 where Manton could trace his restless promenade by 
 the red gleam of his cigar. Presently he too got up 
 and joined his brother in his walk. 
 
 "Stirl,"he said, and his voice was husky, "if you'd 
 rather not have me, I'll go again. You know I'm not 
 a Denny now. I'm a Craycraft. I shipped for home
 
 78 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 as Manton Craycraft. Nobody will know me for your 
 brother, but ' 
 
 For the first time in his life Stirling Denny derived 
 a sort of satisfaction from deception. The deception 
 was another's, but it was necessary. 
 
 " Stay," he said ; " no doubt you are safer here than 
 anywhere else in the United States. But, by the eter- 
 nal, Manton Denny 
 
 " Craycraft ! " Manton corrects him calmly. 
 
 " If you commit any fresh act of " 
 
 "Villainy! Put it strong." 
 
 " Although the same mother bore us, and I revere 
 her memory as that of a saint, I will " 
 
 " Do what?" 
 
 Manton's well assumed contrition had fled at the 
 first sign of concession on his brother's part. He 
 placidly seated himself on a pile of cotton-seed sacks, 
 and fell to flinging clods of dirt far out into the swift 
 rushing current of the river. He started as Stirling's 
 hand fell heavily on his shoulder: 
 
 "You had best go into your supper now; we can 
 talk together better to-morrow. I am sorry I could not 
 feel more glad to see you." 
 
 Manton rose and stretched himself leisurely. 
 " Leave out the gush ! I'm not exacting. Good- 
 night. You're certainly landed on your feet here. 
 Pretty place. You always were the lucky one." 
 
 Repenting of the discourtesy he had put upon this
 
 THE MAJOR A T HOME. 79 
 
 most unwelcome prodigal by sending him into a soli- 
 tary supper, the major threw away his cigar presently 
 and followed his brother into the house. 
 
 " How are you getting on? " he asked, taking his 
 own place at the table. 
 
 " Moderately well. Your cook is not a cordon bleu- 
 By the way, how are you off for neighbors ? " 
 
 " There are a few other white people living in the 
 county." 
 
 " How near are the nearest ? " 
 
 " Within six miles of me." 
 
 " Oppressively close. What's the name?" 
 
 " Southmead." 
 
 "And your next ?" 
 
 " The Thorn place ; thirteen miles off." 
 
 " Thorn ! that must be the old fellow to whom I am 
 indebted for your address. I heard in New York you 
 had bought a plantation in Arkansas. I was in the 
 mountains of Virginia this summer, well hiding, let's 
 call it and there was a gray old curmudgeon stopped 
 there ; when I found he was from Arkansas, I ques- 
 tioned him about you. He don't love you." 
 
 " No? I don't think we have ever met." 
 
 " He's one of the unreconstructed. He was accounted 
 rich, but confoundedly crusty and disagreeable." 
 
 "The same man, in all probability." 
 
 " This old man was trying to get married when I 
 left the mountains,"
 
 8o THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 " He succeeded before he left there. He brought a 
 wife home to-day." 
 
 " Have you seen her ? " Manton asked, with vivid 
 interest in his voice. 
 
 " No, but she is said to be young and handsome." 
 " Poor thing! She came to it I suppose ! " 
 " You knew this lady, then ? " Major Denny asked, 
 quickly, always on the alert for something underhand 
 in his brother's actions. 
 
 " Yes, as one boarding in a lodging-house knows an- 
 other. There was a pitiful story afloat when I first went 
 to this place, about this Miss Agnes Murray, if she is 
 the present Mrs. Thorn. She was a teacher burdened 
 with the support and education of a young brother. 
 The lad was with her for vacation, and the story went 
 that he had gotten into a devil of a mess with a lot of 
 gamblers and moonshiners, and that old Thorn had 
 paid him out of it, and agreed to send the boy to col- 
 lege, on condition of the sister's marrying him. I 
 suppose she made the sacrifice. But," he added, with 
 unnecessary energy, " all that happened before I got 
 there." Then he pushed his chair back, and walked 
 back to the front gallery.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "INDUCTED INTO OFFICE." 
 
 ' ' A ND now, Mrs. Thorn, my love, I arranged mat- 
 f\ ters before breakfast so that I should be able to 
 devote the whole of this first morning to introducing 
 you to your new home, your domestic cabinet, and your 
 responsibilities as a planter's wife ; inducting you into 
 office, as it were." 
 
 With these words Squire Thorn pushed his chair 
 noisily back from the breakfast-table, the four legs of it 
 grating harshly upon the bare floor and upon Mrs. 
 Thorn's quivering nerves, drew his pocket handker- 
 chief across the wiry mustache whose appearance had 
 not been improved by a copious draught of buttermilk, 
 stuffed it into the side pocket of his jeans coat, and, 
 with both hands spread upon the table, one on either 
 side of his plate, waited for his wife to rise in response 
 to this broad hint. 
 
 Mrs. Thorn raised to her lips the cup of muddy cof- 
 fee she had been doctoring all through the meal, and 
 drained its contents with the sudden heroism one brings 
 to bear on an unavoidable dose, then said, in her slow, 
 even voice:
 
 82 THE NL W MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 " Very well, sir ; I am ready." 
 
 A finer intelligence than Squire Thorn's might have 
 found something to resent in the air of passive endurance 
 that had already become habitual with his wife. But 
 to him it was the perfection of wifely bearing. He 
 never had asked any thing on a sentimental basis from 
 her. " I had my reasons for askin', and she had hers 
 for sayin' yes," was his frequent mental reminder. " So 
 I guess we're about quits. And we'll get along about 
 as well as the majority." With this feeling strong 
 upon him, it was not likely the squire would expend 
 any superfluous pity upon her, even when he found that 
 the absolute roughness of her home surroundings was 
 a jarring surprise to her. Nor did she demand it. 
 
 Away from the plantation, dressed in the garb he 
 kept so exclusively for the benefit of society, shaven by 
 a barber who had some regard for his own reputation 
 as an artist, and withal invested with a certain softness 
 of manner and speech that comes to us all when we 
 leave behind the sordid anxieties of our workaday 
 life, the squire had readily passed muster as an elderly 
 gentleman, rather brusque in his manne'r, but no doubt 
 all right at heart. And when, in the sharpest agony of 
 her life, when the boy for whose career in life she was 
 making every sacrifice, had sent for her to his prison- 
 house in the little county seat, and told her of this one 
 way of escape for him, what could she do but lift the 
 burden of his ill-doing from the boy's shoulders and
 
 "INDUCTED INTO OFFICE" 83 
 
 lay it as a heavy yoke about her own ? Ah, well ! it 
 was all well with the boy now, and irrevocable with 
 herself. 
 
 She followed her husband from the house into the 
 yard, dumbly acquiescent, holding her trailing wrap- 
 per carefully above the mud. " It is a great mistake," 
 says the squire, with some difficulty regulating his own 
 shambling shuffle to the stately, even footfall of his wife, 
 " to suppose a planter's wife has an easy time of it now 
 because she don't have to do for and look after slaves 
 that stand for so much money. I won't be so ungener- 
 ous as to deny, Mrs. Thorn, that you've got a tolerably 
 hard row to hoe. Yes, you've got that very thing; but 
 you married me with your eyes open. I suppose you'd 
 gone purty nigh through the woods and I was your 
 crooked stick, but I'll promise to be as good a stick for 
 you to lean on as is in me to be. That's fair ! I'm sure 
 a man couldn't say nothing fairer. I hope we'll fall 
 together easy. Every new team's got to get used to 
 each other's paces and to the harness. Yes, to the har- 
 ness, my dear." 
 
 Mrs. Thorn was conscious that the harness chafed 
 fiercely at that moment. Would she ever get quite 
 used to it ? 
 
 "Let us look at the garden, please. You spoke of 
 one at the breakfast-table." 
 
 The squire emitted a sound that might pass for a 
 laugh if one were previously bent on so considering it,
 
 84 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 and shambled across the weed-choked yard to where 
 a picket fence inclosed another rank growth of 
 the "bitter weed," "Jamestown weed," and "wild 
 coffee." 
 
 " It's sceercely worth while goin' inside," he said, 
 after tugging vainly at the big gate, which, hanging by 
 one rusty hinge, had sagged so that it was unmovable 
 'by his enfeebled hands. "You can see all there is to 
 be seen from the outside ; " and, assuming an easy 
 posture by planting both elbows on the pointed 
 pickets, supporting his chin in his hands the while, he 
 went into particulars. "That's about one acre of as 
 good ground inside of that picket fence, Mrs. Thorn, 
 as you'll find anywhere in the state of Arkansas. It 
 looks a little roughish now, for things have gone 
 tolerable slack about the yard premises for a good bit 
 back, but you can soon make it blossom like a rose if 
 you'll just settle square down to work at it. Visitors 
 won't interrupt you much. Folks have got something 
 better to do in this country than to gad from one 
 year's end to 'nother. A Yankee 'd make a good 
 living off that piece of ground. You see it's handy to 
 the mule lot, there, where the manure comes from to 
 enrich your potato ground. I shan't pester you in 
 your department. Some men want to boss every thing 
 around them. That ain't me, Mrs. Thorn. I'll give 
 you Jim Doakes he's the best nigger in the land of 
 Dixie, if he is free ; and Pete Pete's as good for a
 
 "INDUCTED INTO OFFICE:' 85 
 
 mule as Jim is for a nigger; and a box of garden seed, 
 and a barrel of potatoes, and turn you loose to amuse 
 yourself. Amusements of any other sort than your 
 own making you'll find scarcer than hens' teeth. It's 
 a leetle late for breaking up ground, but then we didn't 
 take spring gardenin' into 'count when we fixed our 
 weddin' day, so we'll have to eat our vegetables when 
 we can get them this year. You'll find Jim has got a 
 purty good ideeya of gardenin' himself, and when you 
 both get stumped you can turn for help to ' White's 
 Gardenin' for the South.' It's somewheres in the 
 house. I don't take much stock in book gardenin' 
 myself, but I suppose you might get a hint or two out 
 of it." 
 
 Agnes looked with despairing eyes at the luxuriant 
 crop of weeds that flaunted their heads so much higher 
 than her own. When she thought of the amount of 
 labor that must supervene between their fall and the 
 rise of green pease and radishes, she shrank dismayed 
 at the responsibility of making that dreary spot 
 blossom like the rose. 
 
 "It looks desperately little like a garden now," she 
 said, impelled to speech by her husband's prolonged 
 pause. 
 
 " It ain't much to look at now, for a fact, but you 
 and Jim and Pete can soon improve matters." 
 
 Mrs. Thorn began to realize that she was a part of 
 the squire's "working force. He removed his elbows
 
 86 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 from the pickets, rubbed them a little, and turned in 
 another direction, saying : 
 
 " Now I'll show you your hen-house. We ain't got 
 nothing in the way of fancy stock on hand at present, 
 but if you've a mind to try your hand on Braymers or 
 Legerns, I'm not the man for snubbin' a woman for 
 having ideeyas of her own." 
 
 This magnanimous concession made, he took a key 
 from his pocket, inserted it in the rusty padlock, and 
 unlocked the low door to the little shanty that was 
 dignified with the name of hen-house. He held the 
 door open for her to precede him. She glanced in, 
 and drew back dismayed. 
 
 "You see," the squire resumed, volubly, bent upon 
 squelching the too evident daintiness of his wife, " if 
 you want vegetables on a plantation, you've got to 
 raise 'em. If you want butter, you've got to churn it. 
 If you want eggs, you've got to see that the hens lay' 
 'em. I always keep the hen-house locked, Mrs. Thorn," 
 he added, in a low, admonitory voice ; "if I didn't, 
 more of my chickens and eggs would be traded off for 
 whisky and tobacker at that pesky tradin* boat in the 
 Lake than I'd ever get the sight of. It would all be 
 laid to the minks and the crows, but the minks and 
 crows that bothers you worst here ain't got but two 
 legs ! There's considerable art in tendin' poultry. It'll 
 come a little hard at first, but you'll find that what old 
 Lottie don't know about raisin' chickins ain't worth
 
 "INDUCTED INTO OFFICE." 87 
 
 knowing. Old Lottie's got the assmer, and she don't 
 do any thing but gasp for breath about two-thirds of 
 the time, but the other third I generally make her put 
 in cleaning up the hen-house and putting fresh straw 
 in the nests, and do all she can to pay for her keep. 
 Clean lodgin's, plenty of fresh water, and corn-meal 
 dough with a sprinklin* of black pepper in it, is the 
 fundymental principles of success in raising poultry, 
 Mrs. Thorn. Why, a Yankee woman would raise 
 enough chickens, geese, ducks and turkeys in this yard 
 to keep her in clover all her days. By the way, my 
 dear, the goose feathers are always to be saved. They 
 fetch a good market price always, but if you don't 
 watch 'em when they're pluckin' 'em, you won't get 
 more than half what belongs to you. Oh, I tell you, 
 you'll have to have eyes in the back of your head if 
 you hope to hold your own here." 
 
 The squire gave a last comprehensive look around 
 the interior of the shackling shed, carefully relocked 
 the rusty padlock, and handed the key to his wife with 
 the air of an out-going minister of state. Agnes 
 dropped the little iron key into the depths of her 
 silken pocket, and mentally pronounced the garden 
 plus the poultry-house a brambly Ossa piled on an 
 abominable Pelion. 
 
 "I hope I shall grow fond of it all," she said, daintily 
 gathering her skirts about her, until her little high- 
 heeled slippers and striped blue stockings came ravish-
 
 88 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 ingly into view. But her voice had very little hope 
 in it. 
 
 "You're bound to be fond of something," Squire 
 Thorn answered, looking down rather unappreciatively 
 at this display of pretty feet and stylish hosiery, " and 
 I reckon chickens is about as safe company as you can 
 keep. Leastways they ain't going to backbite you, 
 nor lie on you. I wouldn't wear them paper-soled 
 things out in the yard, if I was you. First time I go 
 out to Landing, I'll see if I can't find you a good stout 
 pair of shoes. Things ain't lively round here, Mrs. 
 Thorn, I forewarn you." 
 
 Agnes thought the forewarning came rather late, but 
 she only said, with a slightly wearied voice : 
 
 " I suppose we are through now, aren't we ? " 
 
 " Well ! I can't say as we are, but as the calf-pen's 
 on the road back to the house, 'twon't consume much 
 more time to step around that way. We'll leave the 
 pig-pen (I always keep up two pigs to feed the kitchen 
 slops to) and the smoke-house for after dinner. I 
 reckon, maybe, you'd like to unpack your trunks to-day. 
 I hope you've got some commoner duds than them," 
 glancing askance at the soft merino wrapper with its 
 silken trimmings ; " they won't stand the mornin' dew 
 long. We're early movers here, Mrs. Thorn. Early 
 to bed and early to rise you know the rest that's my 
 motto. Now here," coming to a sudden halt under 
 the low spreading branches of a beautiful pecan, " is
 
 "INDUCTED INTO OFFICE." 89 
 
 your calf-pen. You'll have to keep your eyes skinned 
 about them calves," pointing to three innocent-looking 
 animals, who gazed at them deprecatingly with big 
 soft eyes. 
 
 " The rails of this calf-pen air rather rottin', there's no 
 denyin', and that bull calf yonder he's a yearlin', for 
 all his innocent looks now is a-gettin' to be tolerable 
 handy with his sproutin' horns. He butts them rails 
 down every day or two, and there's a everlastin' cry of 
 ' cows and calves got together, no milk this morning.' 
 Of course, when I was here by myself, some things was 
 bound to be neglected, because I couldn't be in but one 
 place at a time ; but now, with you on hand, and Isham 
 at your beck and call Isham's Jim's son, but a blameder 
 little rapscallion never went unhung there'll be no 
 excuse for the calves and cows gettin' together. You'll 
 have to keep a pretty sharp lookout on Isham as well 
 as the calves, my dear ; it's hard to tell which is the 
 slickest when it comes to rascality. But forewarned 
 forearmed, you know." 
 
 "Would not a new pen obviate the trouble more 
 easily? " she ventured to ask. 
 
 " Most likely it would," said the squire, who never 
 took dictation amiably, "but when a man's got five or 
 six miles of fencing to keep up round his cotton-field, 
 he can't turn the whole force loose to work on a 
 calf-pen." 
 
 Mrs. Thorn was silenced if not convinced by this
 
 go THE NEW MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 view of the question, and simply said "Yes," a trifle 
 inconsequently. She wondered if Atlas felt his burden 
 more than she was afraid she was going to feel hers ! 
 The squire pulled a large silver watch from his vest 
 pocket. 
 
 " Time for the smoke-house yet," he declared, cheer- 
 fully, "or the milk-room, just as you prefer. It is a 
 quarter to twelve that I've got to leave. I always see 
 to the mule-feed myself. By the way, Mrs. Thorn, I 
 put the plantation bell handy to the house, so that 
 when I was out of the way whoever was in the house 
 could ring the bell just exactly when the clock in our 
 room strikes twelve. Old Lucy has been attending to 
 it, but it won't be worth while now, with you right 
 there to hand. It's just a reach over the back banisters, 
 and a grab at the rope, and a half-dozen pulls good 
 strong pulls, my dear, for sometimes I'm way at the 
 other end of the field, and mightn't hear a feeble ring. 
 I am very particular about having it rung on time. 
 After a little you'll be surprised to find how it reminds 
 you, sorter of itself, that twelve o'clock has come. You 
 see, in the country here we've got to fall into routine 
 there's nothing else to fall into, and I'm not sure I'm 
 sorry. There's nothing like system in all things, 
 Mrs. Thorn. You've noticed the bell-post, I sup- 
 pose ? " 
 
 Agnes felt viciously inclined to ask him how she 
 could have failed to notice the brazen source of the
 
 ' IND UC TED IN TO OFFICE. " 9 1 
 
 uproar that had broken up her own morning slumber 
 and set half a dozen dogs to howling dismally, but she 
 only said : 
 
 "Yes; I know where it is. I will remember." 
 
 They walked back to the house, the squire dilating 
 upon the pleasures and dignity of a well-filled home life 
 Agnes inwardly praying that her sacrificial act might 
 not tend to wither all that was fresh and sweet in her 
 own nature. 
 
 " It's just next to impossible," she came back from a 
 sudden flight into the past to hear her husband say, " to 
 pick up all the threads you've got to weave into one 
 web, like as it was, all in a minute, Mrs. Thorn. But 
 I can say one thing and L ain't the man to begrudge 
 any body their fair earnings if you do your duty as a 
 planter's wife in these u-nregenerate days of free nig- 
 gers, carpet-baggers, and reconstruction, you'll be en- 
 titled to a crown of righteousness in the next world, 
 whether you get it or not ; and I ain't going to belittle 
 your efforts." 
 
 " And meanwhile wearing a crown of thorns in this 
 one." 
 
 Mrs. Thorn's supplement was delivered safely, for 
 the squire had, with a sudden ejaculation, left her hur- 
 riedly, and, with much ado of flinging brickbats and 
 encouraging of dogs, was in hot pursuit of a sow and her 
 infantile brood, who were complacently rooting for the 
 tender herbs in the grassy front yard.
 
 92 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 She saw nothing more of him until, punctually as 
 the harsh-voiced clock on her mantle shelf struck 
 twelve, she glanced out the window and saw him sway- 
 ing vigorously to and fro at the end of the big bell's 
 rope, clamorously announcing twelve o'clock, to the 
 howling accompaniment of five pensive hounds. 
 
 She bent once more over the trunk she was unpack- 
 ing. A scroll lay under her hand in the tray the 
 scroll of daily mottoes that always hung in her bed- 
 room. She shook it out from the creases that had 
 formed in it, and hung it against the wall. The words 
 that faced her were taken from the ninth chapter of 
 Luke, sixty-second verse: 
 
 " No man, having put his hand to the plow, and look- 
 ing back, is fit for the kingdom of God."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PERIODIC PERTURBATION. 
 
 HHHERE are certain primitive customs and inconven- 
 iently patriarchal ways of "getting along" in 
 most of the agricultural districts of the South, which 
 fill visitors from more advanced sections of this 
 progressive land with amazement. People to whom 
 the railroad and the telegraph are daily necessities, 
 marvel how other people, claiming like mental organ- 
 ism, can exist under such stagnant conditions. 
 
 The commercial center of the locality with which 
 these annals of a quiet neighborhood have to do, was 
 what in the North would be called a hamlet, but which, 
 in its own sparsely settled section, was accorded the 
 dignity of being called a town. The town of Shady- 
 ridge lay in a straggling fashion along the immediate 
 banks of the river ; and as it consisted of only three 
 stores, one dwelling-house, a little new pen of a cottage 
 that sheltered the bachelor doctor who dispensed drugs 
 and advice for the entire country, a rail inclosure to 
 receive cotton for shipment and preserve it from 
 marauding cattle while waiting for the packet, it did 
 not straggle very far.
 
 94 THE NE W MAN A T KOSSMERE. 
 
 This town was the rallying point for all the planters, 
 freedmen, and teams for the space of twenty miles 
 around on " packet day." The local packet was the 
 steamboat that had the contract for carrying the United 
 States mail between Vicksburg and New Orleans ; in 
 consequence of which its arrival on a certain morning 
 up, and down on another, were the events most sure of 
 any thing in the future of Shadyridge. Unfortunately 
 for the morals of Shadyridge and the country around, 
 Sunday was packet day ; and as the mail boat was 
 always laden with a lot of miscellaneous freight for 
 the neighborhood, and, moreover, brought with her the 
 very latest New Orleans papers, Shadyridge was at its 
 liveliest and did its briskest business on the day which, 
 in civilized communities, is considered sacred to rest 
 and to reflection. Sunday had no higher significance 
 than lay in its being the packet day. But rest and 
 reflection are at a discount where people at best lead 
 but half-awake lives; and, as it was not in reason that 
 men should ride ten or twelve miles over villainous 
 dirt roads fora letter or a paper only, it was consid- 
 ered quite the thing that any outlying business matter 
 should be settled between the planters and the three 
 or four Hebrew merchants who formed the commercial 
 element of the country and the entire resident popula- 
 tion of Shadyridge. 
 
 A fleet of battered and paintless skiffs, dug-outs, 
 flats, and other small craft, always moored to the ragged,
 
 PERIODIC PERTURBA TION. 95 
 
 brambly banks of the bayou that flanked the town on 
 the south, where it ran to contribute its cool, dark 
 waters to the muddy current of the Mississippi ; a tall 
 levee, whose broad crown was rutted deeply by the 
 wagon-wheels that sought that refuge from the impass- 
 able mud of the "big road;"a cluster of native forest trees, 
 beneath which stands the long, rude horse-rack whose 
 horizontal top-rail has been chewed and gnawed into 
 less than half its original dimensions by generations 
 of tethered animals ; a blacksmith's shop that does its 
 briskest business in the shoeing line on a Sunday ; a list- 
 less, loafing, impatiently patient group of white men 
 and black, sitting about on the much-whittled benches 
 that flank the store galleries, or on the steps, or on in- 
 verted boxes and barrels, smoking, chewing, exchang- 
 ing crop items and weather prognostications while wait- 
 ing for the boat ; a quickened move for the river's brink 
 at first glimpse of her smoke-stacks in the bend just 
 below ; an emulous rush on board as soon as the stag- 
 ing plank swings within the possibility of an agile leap; 
 a quick demand for New Orleans papers and for drinks 
 at the boat's bar, which supplies choicer poison than is 
 to be procured at the local counters, which cater ex- 
 clusively to the freedmen's tastes there you have 
 Shadyridge, its customs and its frequenters, in a nut- 
 shell. 
 
 The periodic perturbations which beset the dwellers 
 upon the banks of the Mississippi River invest news
 
 g6 THE NE W MAN A 7' ROSSMERE. 
 
 from the outer world with a vivid and painful interest 
 at certain seasons of the year. "What is the river 
 doing ? " or, " What is the river going to do this year ? " 
 are the questions that pass from mouth to mouth as 
 soon as the reign of winter is past and the ice-gates are 
 open. The " river column " is the first thing looked 
 for in the papers that, coming to hand but once a week, 
 arc read and loaned around until they are ready to re- 
 solve themselves into their original pulp. The man 
 who has a correspondent in Cairo or a relative in Vicks- 
 burg or Memphis is invested with factitious importance 
 as the recipient and retailer of reliable information 
 concerning the probabilities of this most dangerous of 
 streams. An admixture of feverish anxiety and dull 
 apprehension takes possession of every breast. Each 
 man will tell his neighbor, with dreary insistence, that 
 " One more overflow and he will be ready to give up ;" 
 but the time when he really can give up never comes, 
 for the burden of other lives is laid upon his heavily- 
 laden shoulders, and he watches the receding waters 
 with a satisfaction bordering nearly on cheerfulness, 
 and gathers together the remnants of his flocks and 
 stock, and commences sowing when he should be reap- 
 ing, and is buoyed up by the hope which, happily, 
 springs eternally in the human breast, and so on and 
 on forever and forever. 
 
 " I think I will ride into Shadyridge this morning, 
 to meet the boat and hear what the rivers are doing
 
 PERIODIC PER TURBA TION. 9 7 
 
 above," Squire Thorn said to his wife on the first Sun- 
 day after their home-coming. " I suppose I will have 
 to stand treat to every fool I meet to-day." 
 
 "Why?" Mrs. Thorn asked, with languid interest in 
 what she presumed must be a curious local custom. 
 
 "Because every fool will" congratulate me on my 
 marriage, and I'll have to stand treat for every con- 
 gratulation," he said, showing a set of very yellow teeth 
 in what was meant for a pleasant smile. 
 
 "Oh! And does custom demand that you should 
 take something every time you stand treat ? If it does, 
 it is to be hoped that the number of congratulations 
 you receive this morning will be very limited." 
 
 " I never knew a Thorn yet to lose his head on a 
 slight provocation, Mrs. Thorn. I hope you'll not find 
 it lonely. I'm not likely to be back before three o'clock. 
 That packet's pesky uncertain in her time of gettin' 
 here. Reckon you'd better make old Lucy stay and 
 keep you company she's better 'n nothing." 
 
 The squire gave this advice as he took his cowhide 
 whip down from the rack in the hall, and used it as an 
 impromptu clothes-brush across the dusty crown of the 
 soft black felt hat he wore on Sundays. 
 
 "Thank you. I don't think I shall be reduced to 
 that extremity." 
 
 " Just as you please, Maybe best not. She might 
 cut up rough about being kept from meetin'. Lucy's 
 some on religion since she's been free to cut up as she
 
 9 8 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 pleases. Maybe I'll find a letter for you out yonder," 
 he called back from the horse-rack, a moment later, 
 where he stood tightening the saddle-girth about old 
 Whitey. 
 
 " Not likely," his wife made answer, thinking bitterly 
 that the heedless boy for whose sake she had gone into 
 this dreary exile had never been any too attentive 
 about such matters, and there was no one else in all the 
 wide world to write to her. 
 
 She watched her husband shamble slowly out of sight 
 on old Whitey, and sent after him a silent aspiration 
 that the boat would achieve a triumph of tardiness on 
 this particular occasion. She folded her arms, and 
 paced slowly from end to end of the long gallery. The 
 prospect of a whole undisturbed morning to herself 
 was enjoyable in the extreme. The heavy morning 
 dew still lay in silvery patches on the bright green grass, 
 where the shadows of the big trees protected it from 
 the sun's rays. Beyond the trees, with only the pub- 
 lic road and a narrow, sloping strip of bank intervening 
 between its waters and the yard fence, lay the same 
 lake which, in its horse-shoe curve, embraced Tievina, 
 Rossmere, and half a dozen other plantations. Deep, 
 broad, placid, and blue, it was a majestic feature in an 
 otherwise homely landscape. A faint wind rumpled its 
 blue waters to-day, and sent them swish-swashing with 
 a peaceful murmur against the sandy banks. A freed- 
 man, dressed in the shabby gentility which is his near-
 
 PERIODIC PERTURBATION. 99 
 
 est approach to the white man's elegance, would canter 
 slowly along the road every now and then, his lazily 
 moving mule shuffling up little clouds of dust from 
 each hoof, as he ambled in the direction the squire had 
 gone, or in the opposite one toward the barn-like 
 structure that the squire had erected for a meeting- 
 house for his people. This meeting-house was one of 
 the squire's few concessions to the spirit of the times. 
 In the frenzy for religious exercises that was one of 
 the most violent ebullitions of the first days of freedom, 
 the plantation that held out the greatest* inducements 
 in this line was the one that was surest of plenty of 
 " hands." The squire speculated in religion to the ex- 
 tent of building this meeting-house and resigning .all 
 control of it to his people. It had proven an excellent 
 investment, for, notwithstanding the inferiority of his 
 cabins and the hardness of his " contracts," the squire 
 never lacked for laborers. But on this day the men, 
 with their boorish attempts at elegance, and the women, 
 with their tawdry ribbons and comical efforts at style, 
 flitted by Mrs. Thorn without attracting a glance, 
 though one and all held themselves in kindly readiness 
 to return any civility the tall, stately lady of Thorndale 
 might cast toward them as they passed her line of 
 vision. 
 
 All the discordant sights and sounds of plantation life 
 were in abeyance for the time being. The mules would 
 not take their dinner in full view of her bedroom win-
 
 100 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 dows to-day; they were turned out of sight and sound 
 in the lower pasture to pick up as they might the din- 
 ner they could not earn by honest toil on the Sunday. 
 Their pensioners, the hogs, had wandered away in 
 search of a substitute for their daily gleanings. The 
 chickens walked sedately about, with an air of having 
 suspended business temporarily, and when the roosters 
 crowed it was with a decorous brevity and in an apolo- 
 getic minor tone suitable to the solemn stillness that 
 pervaded all things. The big bell rope was wound 
 about its post ; the hideous clangor of its brazen clap- 
 per would not smite the peaceful air of that Sabbath 
 morning. The five responsive hounds had all followed 
 the squire out to the landing, trotting closely at old 
 Whitey's heels with down-dropped heads and lolling 
 tongues. There was not a living thing within the pre- 
 cincts of the house but Agnes and the large yellow cat 
 that followed her up and down, rubbing its sleek sides 
 against her dress in mute expression of sympathy for her 
 loneliness, until, disgusted at her lack of appreciation, 
 he sprang lightly on to the broad rail of the banisters, 
 stretched himself luxuriously, and blinked lazily in the 
 warm sunshine. The serenity of the morning met with 
 Dick's entire approval. He only wished the mistress 
 to whom he was sincerely attached would take things 
 more restfully bask, as it were, as he was content to 
 do. He purred ecstatically when Mrs. Thorn would 
 halt long enough to pass a caressing hand leisurely
 
 PERIODIC PER TURBA TlOff. I o I 
 
 down his glossy back. A mocking-bird alighted in the 
 locust tree near the gallery ; then, emboldened by the 
 universal hush, hopped intrepidly down upon the banis- 
 ters. Dick eyed him malevolently. Startled and 
 offended, the spunky little songster gave a shrill 
 " tcheep ! " and flew out of sight. A bright-plumaged 
 woodpecker winged its way from the gate-post to the 
 worm-eaten shingle roof of the house, and the sound 
 of his reckless Sabbath-breaking came loud and clear 
 through the unceiled space overhead. Uncle Mose, a 
 wooden-legged veteran of the Civil War, who was liv- 
 ing on county scrip and in hopes of bounty money 
 from "guv'ment," was contentedly outraging the relig- 
 ious sense of the neighborhood by fishing for "ghyar- 
 fish " from the stern of his leaky skiff, that swayed 
 gently to and fro on the softly heaving bosom of the 
 lake ; the chain that kept it within prescribed limits 
 clanking monotonously against the stake in the bank. 
 A myriad of white gulls were skimming midway 
 between the blue sky above and the blue waters 
 beneath. Occasionally one would dart with swift 
 energy waterward, and dive into the rumpled, glitter- 
 ing depths of the lake, to return almost instantane- 
 ously with a fish, and skim the air close over Uncle 
 Mose's tattered hat-brim, as if to taunt him with the 
 unsuccess of his patient, clumsy human efforts. A red- 
 and-white spotted cow had waded far out into the lake, 
 and stood body-deep, placidly munching the tender
 
 102 THE NEW MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 shoots of a button-willow that rested its green arms 
 upon the water. Agnes was conscious of wishing that 
 this soundless serenity might last forever. She won- 
 dered if it was her duty to turn away from this pleas- 
 ant picture of still life and immure herself in the ugly 
 sitting-room indoors for devotional purposes! Habit 
 voted in favor of the lessons for Sunday in the Book 
 of Common Prayer ; inclination declared the hour a 
 psalm within itself. She could read her lessons later 
 in the day, when the sun grew hotter, and the silvery 
 patches of the dew had been scorched up, and the 
 sandy banks of the lake would show dry and hot, and 
 her husband should have come back charged with 
 commonplace gossip from the landing. So she walked 
 on, with idly clasped hands, thanking God for this 
 peaceful solitude, which at one time of her life she 
 would have shuddered at, as at total annihilation. 
 
 Presently a fresh object of interest glided into the 
 landscape. It was a sail-boat ; a large, trim, freshly 
 painted affair, with gleaming white sails, and gay pen- 
 non fluttering at the masthead. Its tiller was evi- 
 dently handled by an expert. She looked at it with 
 some such feeling as stirred in Robinson Crusoe's breast 
 at first sight of Friday's footprints in the sand. It 
 looked entirely too civilized for its surroundings ; was 
 altogether out of keeping with any thing Mrs. Thorn 
 had so far come in contact with. She stepped into 
 the hall, and took down the old spy glass that lay on
 
 PERIODIC PER TUA BA TION. 1 03 
 
 top of the row of wooden pegs that did duty for a hat- 
 rack. She brought it out and telescoped the unfamil- 
 iar object. Yes; it was unmistakably a sail-boat of the 
 most approved center-board pattern. Quite a costly 
 possession, no doubt. Two men were in it. She was 
 certain she had never seen the one whose broad should- 
 ers and massive head the spy-glass gave distinctly for 
 her inspection. The other one was hidden, from his 
 knees up, by the outstretched sail. She closed the 
 glass with a snap, and returned it to its place on top 
 the wooden pegs. 
 
 " Bah ! this lonely life makes one curious over the 
 veriest trifle. The idea of my wasting conjecture 
 over two strange men in a passing sail-boat ! It is 
 getting time I was indoors feeding my famished 
 brains." 
 
 For all that, she stood still, noting how softly the 
 green hull of the sail-boat and its gleaming white canvas 
 harmonized with the blue and silver of sky and lake. 
 It was skimming over the water with the grace of the 
 gulls that fluttered and hovered amazedly about its tall 
 mast and pretty bright pennon. She seated herself on 
 the front steps to watch it until it should be hidden by 
 the thick growth of willows that lined the lake bank on 
 the upper edge of Thorndale. The wind had stiffened, 
 and the boat was making excellent headway. Sud- 
 denly it tacked, and, to Mrs. Thorn's unspeakable sur- 
 prise, was evidently heading straight for the rickety
 
 104 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 skiff where Uncle Mose sat swinging his one good leg 
 over the gunwale, allowing his pole and line to lookout 
 for themselves, as he too gazed admiringly at the gay 
 craft bearing down upon him. When within speaking 
 distance the helmsman leaned forward and said some- 
 thing to the old fisherman. Uncle Mose doffed his 
 ragged straw hat to listen, and made some answer, 
 and pointed toward the spot where Mrs. Thorn sat 
 watching them with growing interest. In another second 
 the green hull of the sail-boat grated against the sandy 
 bank, and the two men stepped ashore. They stamped 
 on the ground to bring their trowsers' legs into position, 
 gave a downward pull to their vests and an upward 
 jerk in the region of their cravats, raised their hats for 
 a furtive adjustment of tumbled hair, and strode briskly 
 toward the watcher on the gallery. 
 
 Mrs. Thorn was opposed on principle to running at 
 sight of unexpected callers. She would have preferred 
 receiving these first visitors to Thorndale since her 
 advent in more state than was compatible with her 
 lowly position on the front steps; but if Squire 
 Thorn's unconventionality was characteristic of this 
 neighborhood, these Sunday sailors were not likely to 
 prove hypercritical. 
 
 They came toward her with the brisk straightfor- 
 wardness of men with a definite object in view. She 
 watched them advancing along the broken and uneven 
 brick walk. One of them she was quite sure she had
 
 PERIODIC PER TURBA TION. I O$ 
 
 never seen before. The other one she certainly had 
 hoped never to see again. 
 
 The two men were Major Denny and his guest, Mr. 
 Craycraft. 
 
 " Mrs. Thorn, I presume ? " the major said, in that 
 frankly cordial voice of his which put to immediate 
 flight all preconceived intention of stiffness or reserve 
 on the part of others. " I am Stirling Denny, of Ross- 
 mere." 
 
 Agnes rose to her stately height and asked her 
 visitors in with grave courtesy, including them both 
 in one bow. 
 
 " Thanks ! no. We are scarcely entitled to the 
 courtesy of an invitation to enter. We Mr. Cray- 
 craft," slightly indicating his younger brother, upon 
 whose handsome flushed face Mrs. Thorn's gaze rested 
 long enough for her to say, " I believe I have met Mr. 
 Craycraft " " are taking the rounds of the lake this 
 morning as messengers of evil. The reports from the 
 upper rivers are of the most alarming character, and 
 the urgent necessity for strengthening the levee which 
 protects the bed of the lake is staring us in the face. 
 I had hoped to find Squire Thorn at home. My bad 
 news came through the medium of a Memphis paper I 
 got off the Grand Tower, that landed with some gin- 
 stands for me last night. Will you please say to the 
 squire that Mr. Southmead suggests my house as the 
 most convenient one for a meeting of all interested
 
 106 THE NE W MAN- A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 to-morrow, and I hope he will join with us ? It will 
 require systematized labor and extreme vigilance to 
 secure ourselves." 
 
 " I shall certainly deliver your message," she said, 
 looking over Craycraft's head with a steady determina- 
 tion to ignore him. Then she asked with slow interest : 
 " Do the people here live in this condition of chronic 
 apprehension ? I hear of little else than fears of an 
 overflow and memories of disaster." 
 
 "I am inclined to think they do." 
 
 " One can not help wondering why anyone should 
 continue to reside in a country where nothing is sure." 
 
 " Save death and taxes," the major responded, 
 lightly. "The majority of them, I take it, remain 
 because they are powerless to get away, and because 
 they would be helplessly adrift in the world out of the 
 cotton-field, which is the only branch of industry they 
 understand." 
 
 Agnes caught the pronoun them, which seemed to 
 bespeak the major as with these helpless toilers of the 
 soil, but not of them. 
 
 "You are not a native Arkansian, I gather?" 
 
 " No. But I am already attached to the soil, and 
 will be to the people as soon as they will allow me." 
 
 "Allow you!" Mrs. Thorn's delicate eyebrows 
 described an arch of surprise. 
 
 " Allow me. You must know, my dear madam, that 
 I am a Yankee and a republican."
 
 PERIODIC PERTURB A TION. 107 
 
 Agnes did know that the new man at Rossmere 
 came in frequently for the most bitter denunciation by 
 her husband. Her flushed face betrayed her knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 " The good people of this section have to take me 
 in broken doses. Now, I doubt very much if the 
 squire would not have accepted me and my ill news as 
 the two ingredients of a very unpalatable dose." 
 
 A faint smile stirred the firm outlines of his hearer's 
 lips. 
 
 " But I am cultivating a spirit of patience. At 
 present some of my neighbors see only the cloven 
 foot." The roguish smile which accompanied these 
 words divested them of any sound of complaint. 
 
 "Do you not find it very lonely here ?" he asked, 
 looking with kindly sympathy into the earnest eyes 
 that were fastened on his face. " And yet it is a pretty 
 spot." 
 
 " One can not conceive of the isolation of such lives 
 until one leads them," she said, in a slow, uncom- 
 plaining way. " One comes to appreciate labor as a 
 benign institution. Yes, it is a pretty situation." 
 
 "And yet there are some charming people in the 
 neighborhood. The Tievina ladies you will like 
 them. It is their intention to call, I know. The aunt 
 you will find conservative in the extreme. The niece 
 is larger-minded and more liberal. She will suit you 
 best, I imagine."
 
 loS THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 " I think we shall not meet," said Mrs. Thorn, can- 
 didly. " Some sort of feud exists between the South- 
 meads and the Thorns. I have heard Mr. Thorn speak 
 of it. One learns to be very independent of one's kind 
 in this sort of life." 
 
 " It is not well that one should, though, do you 
 think?" 
 
 The major rose from the step where he had seated 
 himself after refusing a second invitation into the 
 house. It was quite the custom of the country to 
 make seats of the gallery steps when the weather per- 
 mitted. He gazed a second abstractedly into the crown 
 of his hat. There was something in the dreary isola- 
 tion of this woman young, intelligent, and refined 
 that touched his quick sympathies. Presently he said, 
 abruptly : 
 
 " I wish I were so situated that I could assist in mak- 
 ing your reception to a strange neighborhood less chill- 
 ing. I, as a man, have suffered from the same chill. 
 It must be doubly hard on a woman." 
 
 " Brides of a few months' standing are rarely sym- 
 pathized with on the score of loneliness, major. You 
 do not compliment the squire." 
 
 This rude rejoinder came from Manton, who laughed 
 maliciously and ground his heel into the brick-dust of 
 the walk. Mrs. Thorn's glance passed over him icily, 
 as she said to Stirling, with vague comprehensive- 
 ness :
 
 PERIODIC PER TURBA TION. 109 
 
 " You are very good, no doubt. I shall get used to 
 every thing some day." 
 
 Major Denny heard only a piece of clumsy imperti- 
 nence in his brother's remarks. He blushed for the 
 unacknowledged tie between them. The exquisite 
 self-possession of the squire's wife was beyond criticism. 
 She bowed in impartial politeness as they turned away 
 from the door. They had reached the gate when Cray- 
 craft turned suddenly and came back for the buckskin 
 gauntlets he had left upon the lower step. 
 
 "Pardon me," he said, rising from his stooping 
 posture with crimson cheeks ; " I am a clumsy boor ! 
 One thing I must make you understand. I did not 
 know you were married or living here when I came to 
 this neighborhood." 
 
 She was rigidly silent. 
 
 " You do not believe me ; I swear it to you." 
 
 " I think your friend is impatient." She fixed her 
 eyes absently on the sail-boat, into which the major had 
 sprung and was adjusting the cordage. The man below 
 her laughed mirthlessly. 
 
 " Non-recognition is your cue, is it? " 
 
 " I have no cue. My dead past has buried its dead. 
 You never knew Squire Thorn's wife. She has known 
 you but a few moments. I am glad, however, that you 
 came back alone. I want to ask you one question. 
 Where is your wife ? " 
 
 " Dead ! "
 
 110 THE NE W MA NAT ROSSMERE. 
 
 The man raised his hat and held it reverently aloft 
 as he uttered the solemn monosyllable. 
 
 " Dead ! " Agnes repeated the word huskily. " Poor 
 Emmie ! " 
 
 " Happy Emily ! Released from suffering and from 
 me ! " 
 
 He turned and walked quickly back to the boat 
 where his brother was already seated. 
 
 Agnes sat motionless until the willows hid them from 
 her sight. Then she turned from the warm sunlight, 
 and the blue of sky and lake, and the grace of the 
 skimming gulls, and went indoors to read and to 
 pray.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A COMMON DANGER. 
 
 ATOTHING better emphasizes the flimsiness of most 
 1M social barriers than the fact that in times of grave 
 apprehension they are quickly thrown down or lost 
 sight of, permitting their staunchest upholders to asso- 
 ciate with their fellow-beings on t'other side of the 
 magic barrier in comfort and safety. The sense of a 
 common danger is a bond of temporary union infold- 
 ing the most incongruous elements of society in one 
 conciliating embrace. As serenely calm as all nature 
 looked on that peaceful April Sabbath, there was 
 already a slow under current of excitement permeating 
 the atmosphere and stirring the sluggish pulses of men 
 with whom the dread but familiar necessity for " fight- 
 ing the water " was ever recurring. Notwithstanding 
 the species of Sabbath breaking regularly practiced by 
 the men of the neighborhood, Sunday is more abso- 
 lutely a day of rest on the plantation homes than it 
 probably is anywhere where people are nominally Chris- 
 tians. In it no manner of work is done by man-serv- 
 ant or maid-servant. Even the day's dinner is gener- 
 ally cooked the Saturday before ; not from overscrup-
 
 1 1 2 THE NE W MAN A T KOSSMEKE . 
 
 ulosity touching the Scriptures, but because Sunday is 
 " meetin' day," and cook's prerogative of attendance is 
 not to be lightly interfered with. An occasional sud- 
 den call to " hear preaching " in an empty storeroom at 
 the landing or in some neighbor's parlor comprised the 
 white woman's opportunity for divine worship from 
 one year's end to the other in this particular neighbor- 
 hood, and, meager as the opportunity was, it was 
 a privilege afforded only by the accidental straying in- 
 to the neighborhood of some itinerant preacher. A 
 rest from labor and excess of ennui marked the day 
 for the women who were debarred the mild diversion 
 of riding to the landing and waiting for the boat. 
 There were some who found it hard to narrow their 
 mental vision down to the circumscribed limits of four 
 walls and a yard fence ; and those passed for the dis- 
 contented sort, for whose suppression or rebuke almost 
 any measure was allowable, according to public opinion. 
 Perhaps, after all, it was ennui as much as pity for a 
 woman whose lot was cast in even greater desolation 
 than her own that made Mrs. Southmead ask of Mrs. 
 Ralston that same morning : 
 " Ursula, do you intend calling on Mrs. Thorn ? " 
 Ursula looked at her with some surprise, but evi- 
 dent pleasure. 
 
 " I have only been waiting for you, Aunt Amelia. 
 A call from me would hardly be sufficient, seeing that 
 I have no house to offer her the hospitality of."
 
 A COMMON DANGER. 113 
 
 " Oh ! as far as that goes, I don't suppose it will ever 
 amount to any thing more than a stiff call or two. I 
 suppose humanity demands one on our part." 
 
 " I have been thinking a great deal of her this morn- 
 ing," says 'Sula. 
 
 " Why this morning especially?" 
 
 " When I saw Squire Thorn ride by on his way to 
 the landing, and I knew she was there on that dreary 
 plantation, with no white face within miles of her, my 
 heart went out in pity. And she a stranger in a strange 
 land ! " 
 
 " Unless she is subject to epilepsy she is in no imme- 
 diate danger," Mrs. Southmead said, comfortably. 
 "And you know it is quite absurd to be accrediting 
 any woman who could marry Squire Thorn with deli- 
 cate nerves. " 
 
 " We have no means of judging from her standpoint, 
 aunt. She may see more to admire in him than he 
 shows to the world in general." 
 
 " Don't ! I insist, 'Sula, that you do not try to weave 
 a halo of romance about that crusty old man. But if we 
 are going to call at all, this is as good a time xs any. 
 After to-day there'll be no coaxing a pair of mules out 
 of the plow for love or money. And your uncle is 
 already so consumed with anxiety about the levees 
 that there will be no securing him for a driver if we 
 wait much longer. There is another advantage in 
 going now, it will be impossible for her to return the
 
 1 1 4 THE NE IV MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 visit until after the squire is done breaking up; so we 
 will not be rushed into an intimacy that we may not 
 desire." 
 
 "There comes Uncle George now," said 'Sula, turn- 
 ing her head at sound of the iron gate-latch dropping. 
 " I don't like the look on his face." 
 
 Both women were standing in the doorway by the 
 time Mr. Southmead reached the steps. 
 
 "Well, what about the rivers?" 
 
 " All rising ! Watery prospect ahead ! But we're 
 going to fight for the bed of the lake even if the rest 
 of the country has to go under. I've been talking 
 with a lot of fellows out at the landing. We've got to 
 work if .we hope to escape." 
 
 Then as they all sat down to their cold Sunday din- 
 ner, Mr. Southmead gave them more in detail the news 
 he had picked up at the landihg. 
 
 " I would like to have seen Thorn," he said, in con- 
 clusion. " I missed him at the landing. He must 
 have gone home around the other road. The weakest 
 part of the entire levee around the lake is on his place, 
 and if he don't work like all wrath we're bound to go 
 under. I want to offer him some help." 
 
 "Will he accept it from a Southmead?" 
 
 " There's no time for childish nonsense now, nor 
 pouting over an antiquated grudge," Mr. Southmead 
 says, energetically. 
 
 " Ursula and I were talking about a visit to Mrs.
 
 A COMMON DANGER. 115 
 
 Thorn just before you came home. We supposed, as it 
 was Sunday, we could get a wagon and a pair of mules. 
 Suppose you drive us to Thorndale after dinner. I'm 
 sure I'll never be any more in the notion for it than I 
 am to-day." 
 
 Mr. Southmead assenting, they separated to prepare 
 for the undertaking of a call. When, finally, Mrs. 
 Southmead, rustling in the black silk which, like her- 
 self, had seen better days, and Mrs. Ralston, daintily 
 fresh in all the appointments of a very simple toilet, 
 reappeared to take their places in the blue-bodied 
 wagon, whose floor was swept and garnished and glori- 
 fied with the parlor rug and supplied with two chairs, 
 and which Mr. Southmead backed close up to the steps 
 for them to climb into, the incongruity between the 
 conveyance and the conveyed were ludicrous. The 
 handsome master of Tievina was enthroned in corpu- 
 lent dignity on a plank laid across the front of the 
 wagon. Two harnessed-scarred mules flapped their 
 long ears dismally at this infringement of their holiday 
 leisure, and whisked their short tails in disrespectful 
 resentment as Mr. Southmead tightened his hold on 
 the rope-bridle reins, and backed yet closer for his 
 wife's convenience in clambering over the tail-board. 
 Mrs. Southmead tried to dignify the action of climbing 
 the tail-board as much as possible, but it was an occa- 
 sion for agility rather than majesty. 
 
 " All aboard ! Git up ! "
 
 1 16 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 The driver flourished his long whip with a resound- 
 ing crack. The trace chains clanked, the wagon 
 jerked, and the most aristocratic people in the county 
 were off to pay a call, swaying wildly in their untrust- 
 worthy chairs, catching frantically at each other, at 
 the wagon's side, at the driver's coat-tails, at any thing 
 and every thing that promised aid or comfort ! 
 
 Mr. Southmead glanced back over his shoulder at the 
 limited space in which his wife and niece were sway- 
 ing like two poorly-regulated pendulums, to say with 
 a grin of malice : 
 
 " Hope you're not crowded ! " 
 
 " It is positively disgraceful. I conside'r it much 
 more respectable to stay at home forever!" Mrs. 
 Southmead declares between lurches in irrelevant re- 
 sponse. 
 
 " Remember this is a duty visit, auntie," 'Sula 
 responds, in jolting accents, which failed of their sooth- 
 ing intentions by reason of excessive jerkiness. 
 
 " I hope your sublime appreciation of duty will 
 soothe the ache in your bones to-morrow. As for me, 
 I expect to be reduced to pulp long before we get 
 there." 
 
 " Every body ought to know how to ride on horse- 
 back in this country," Mr. Southmead says, with mas- 
 culine superiority. " Our grandmothers did it. But 
 the women of to-day are not the creatures to dare and 
 do, that they were."
 
 A COMMON DANGER. 117 
 
 " Your grandmothers," says Mrs. Southmead, with 
 jerky asperity, liberally bestowing all the grandmothers 
 on her husband, " did just as we are doing, I presume : 
 they did the best they could under the circumstances. 
 It is astonishing how much credit people that lived- a 
 hundred years ago get for every thing they did. I sup- 
 pose my reward. will come a hundred years hence, when 
 Carl's great-grandchildren will recall the legends of the 
 war and this ride, with the moral effect of a rebuke to 
 the degeneracy of those times. Mercy, Ursula! if you 
 don't let me hold on to some part of you, you will have 
 nothing but a parcel of broken bones to introduce to 
 your Mrs. Thorn." 
 
 "Cleave to each other, my dears! In union is 
 strength ! " says Mr. Southmead, urging his mules 
 to greater speed in the direction of Thorndale. 
 " I will make your agony as brief as possible, 
 wife." 
 
 In the meantime, Mrs. Thorn, comfortably ignorant 
 of the amount of discomfort she was innocently occa- 
 sioning her neighbors, was delivering the major's mes- 
 sage to her husband, verbatim. 
 
 The squire had come home late. She had eaten her 
 dinner alone, and gone back to the big splint-bottomed 
 chair on the gallery, when she saw him come shuffling 
 up the walk. He was tired, and his temper was in no 
 wise improved by the news he had heard at the landing 
 touching the river prospect.
 
 1 1 8 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 After five hours of loneliness, Mrs. Thorn was ready 
 to be thankful for any human intercourse. To that, or 
 some reason, more deep-seated, the squire was indebted 
 for an almost cordial reception home. The usual still, 
 cold, imperturbable courtesy of his wife was a greater 
 trial to him than the most vixenish displays of temper 
 would have been. He did not know how to cope with 
 this order of womankind. She rose to meet him, and 
 held out her hand to relieve him of his hat and red 
 cowhide whip. He shambled past her, with that heavy 
 tread, dragging his heels in the fashion that was such a 
 trial to her nerves, and deposited them himself on the 
 pegs in the hall. Agnes watched him in calm indiffer- 
 ence. She wondered if he had ever done a sponta- 
 neously graceful or gracious thing in his life, He came 
 back to the gallery immediately, mopping his face and 
 neck and wrists with his pocket handkerchief. That 
 was the squire's way of getting rid of the dust he had 
 accumulated in his ride. His wife indicated, by a 
 motion, the best of the two splint-bottomed chairs for 
 his acceptance. He chose the worst, and, dragging it 
 close to the gallery railing, seated himself, elevated his 
 feet-to the banister rail, and carefully located in his 
 right cheek a solacing quid of tobacco. 
 
 Seeing him finally settled, Mrs. Thorn conscientiously 
 delivered Major Denny's urgent message concerning the 
 water. 
 
 A grunt, altogether untranslatable into written Ian-
 
 A COMMON DANGER. 1 19 
 
 guage, escaped through the squire's grim lips. Then, 
 after quite a pause, he says, ungraciously : 
 
 " I suppose the major doesn't think any body's 
 a-watchin' the river but him." 
 
 " He did not impress me as wishing to be officious. 
 You do not like him, I perceive," Agnes says, in that 
 straightforward way of hers that is so discomfiting to 
 her husband. 
 
 " Oh, he'll do well enough for a Yankee ! They're 
 bound to show their own importance, or bust. I won- 
 der how they suppose we ever did manage to take care 
 of this country without 'em ! " 
 
 " Poorly enough, if one may judge from present 
 appearances," Mrs. Thorn answered, with light con- 
 tempt, as she turned her gaze away from the morose 
 old man in the chair to the orchard side of the house. The 
 plum blossoms and the wisterias were prettier to look 
 at, and less disappointing. Presently she said, in a 
 surprised voice : 
 
 " There comes a wagon, and, if I am not mistaken, 
 there are white people in it. Ladies, two of them look 
 to be!" 
 
 Squire Thorn turned his better-trained eyes in the 
 same direction. A wagon, with white people in it, who 
 might probably be ladies, was well deserving of close 
 scrutiny. 
 
 " The Tievina team ! and by George ! the Tievina 
 people," he said, promptly, with an approach to pleas-
 
 120 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 ure in his voice, bringing his feet down on the 
 floor. 
 
 " Who are the Tievina people ? Oh, yes ! the South- 
 meads! Major Denny spoke of them." 
 
 " They are the high flyers of the county, that's who 
 the best people, Mrs. Thorn." 
 
 " I thought you did not like them." 
 
 " I've got nothing 'gainst the Tievina women-folks, 
 but the men are a good-for-nothin', triflin', snipe shootin' 
 lot. You mark my words, now I come to think of it, 
 George Southmead's put himself to the trouble of this 
 visit just to tell me that the Mississippi River is on the 
 rise ! Deuce take 'em all, do they think I'm in my 
 dotage ? " The squire's short-lived pleasure expired at 
 the thought and his harsh face became once more over- 
 cast. With such preparatory remarks Mrs. Thorn natu- 
 rally regarded the prospect of receiving the "best peo- 
 ple " of the county, in company with her intractable 
 husband, as something of an ordeal. Perhaps it might 
 have proven so if " Cozzie " had not been on hand and 
 manipulated the squire skillfully, as she did everybody 
 with whom she came into contact, slurring his asperities 
 over until he made a really decent show of cordial- 
 ity, and was put into good humor with himself. The 
 men talked about the coming of the water; how much 
 it had risen at Cairo and Memphis the night pre- 
 viously; what means should be taken to strengthen 
 and to guard the lake levee, upon which their salvation
 
 A COMMON DANGER. 121 
 
 depended. The women discussed servants and poul- 
 try and spring gardens, and wondered what on earth 
 would become of them in the event of another overflow. 
 And Mrs. Southmead contributed a dramatic touch to 
 the talk by describing, for Mrs. Thorn's benefit, the 
 overflows that she had lived through. She stopped in 
 the middle of a sentence to listen to the squire's harsh 
 voice, as it was raised in condemnation of Stirling 
 Denny. Mr. Southmead had made himself rather 
 obnoxious by quoting the major and his opinions some- 
 what liberally. The squire luxuriated in opposition 
 and antagonism. 
 
 " Blamed if I can see what there is in that fellow to 
 make every body knuckle down to him so ! I ain't for- 
 got yet that I'm a Southerner and he's a Yankee, and 
 that he's the mortal foe of all the institutions that's 
 been our meat and bread in the past. It strikes me as 
 sorter impudent for any of them fellers to settle down 
 here 'mongst us, and go to givin' us lessons 'bout the 
 Mississippi River. It's a kind of crowin' over us that 
 they do whenever they get half a chance. Yes, sir, 
 they do." Mrs. Thorn looked uncomfortable. Mrs. 
 Southmead felt for once in sympathy with the squire. 
 Her own bosom was being perpetually torn with con- 
 flicting emotions touching the new man at Rossmere. 
 Admiration for the man as she saw him, and repulsion 
 for him as the representative of a race of foemen, held 
 alternate sway in her amiable bosom. Mr. Southmead
 
 1 2 2 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 laughed good-naturedly into the old man's cross 
 face. 
 
 " You are evidently unreconstructed, squire. Come 
 now, acknowledge; in company with Denny do you 
 not find him frank, gentlemanly, unassuming, and enter- 
 taining?" 
 
 " Grant that I do ; does that alter the fact that he 
 is" 
 
 "A Yankee! I know how you're going to finish 
 your sentence. The truth is, my friend, we are all 
 too deeply dyed in the wool of senseless prejudices. 
 My wife yonder, amiable as she looks, Mrs. Thorn, is 
 about the worst of the lot. When Denny is with us, 
 she forgets every thing but the man, and he is a mag- 
 netic sort of fellow, who'd make the devil himself ur- 
 bane if he chose to work on him. You have not met 
 the major yet ? " 
 
 " Yes, he was here for a short while this morning. I 
 was very much pleased with him. I am afraid I am 
 deficient in loyalty," said Agnes, with that slow, rare 
 smile of hers. 
 
 "Or in prejudices. But even the squire here should 
 not fall back from Denny's leadership in the present 
 emergency. The major was educated as a civil engi- 
 neer, squire, though he did dabble in law too. Intelli- 
 gent and concerted action is all that is going to save 
 us. I, for one, am perfectly willing to act as subordi- 
 nate to such a leader. It was agreed among a lot of
 
 A COMMON DANGER. 123 
 
 us at Shadyridge this morning to meet at Denny's to- 
 morrow and let him assign us our tasks. Will you be 
 one of us ? I will wait for you in the morning if you 
 say so." 
 
 " I suppose, then, if Denny never had bought the old 
 Rossmere place there'd be no salvation for us in the 
 present cri-siss," says the squire, growing sibilant in his 
 wrath. 
 
 " Not quite that ; but we would scramble through 
 the emergency at a much greater expenditure of time 
 and labor than we are likely to do under him. I am 
 afraid, squire, you don't appreciate the advantage of 
 skilled labor over brute force." 
 
 " We done well enough before the war, and if they'd 
 'a' let us alone we'd 'a' continued doin' well enough. 
 Hang 'em ! " 
 
 " Might as well argue with one of his work-mules," 
 Mr. Southmead decided mentally ; then aloud, as he 
 rose in obedience to his wife's signal of departure : 
 
 " Notwithstanding which, squire, I expect to see you 
 at Rossmere to-morrow. I think our mortal foe will 
 prove an invaluable friend if we've wisdom enough to 
 avail ourselves of his ability." 
 
 " P'raps I'll be along," the squire conceded, " and, if 
 it's all the same to your ladies, I'll fetch her along and 
 leave her at Tievina, while we go on to Denny's. It 
 ain't none too lively for her when I'm at home, and 
 maybe it's a trifle worse when I am not." At the word
 
 1 24 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 "her," he indicated Agnes by a backward jerk of his 
 thumb. It was a clumsy effort at kindness on his part, 
 but it went all astray. Mrs. Thorn crimsoned with 
 mortification at being thus disposed of. 
 
 " I am not at all averse to being left alone," she said, 
 quickly. " I keep busy and oblivious," she added, 
 recklessly, looking straight into 'Sula's sympathetic 
 eyes. 
 
 'Sula took and retained her hostess's hand while she 
 said, quietly: 
 
 " It is kind of Squire Thorn to think of our pleasure. 
 You will soon learn, my dear Mrs. Thorn, that the rules 
 and regulations of fashionable society do not hold here. 
 Etiquette does not jolt across country in a farm-wagon," 
 she added, laughingly describing Mr. Southmead's awk- 
 ward efforts to back up skillfully for their accommoda- 
 tion. " We try to preserve the unities by being plain 
 and sensible, and in keeping with our mules rather than 
 with our memories. Don't waste visiting cards on us ; 
 we know the meaning of them, but the use of them is fast 
 becoming legendary. And, please, dear Mrs. Thorn 
 that is, if you hope to render life at all endurable under 
 the existing state of affairs try to bear in mind that 
 people living as far apart as we all do cannot afford to 
 fritter away their opportunities in meaningless formal- 
 ities. We want you to feel that you have friends, and 
 not simply acquaintances, at Tievina don't we, 
 auntie ? "
 
 A COMMON DANGER. 125 
 
 Mrs. Southmead indorsed Ursula's friendly overtures 
 with a great deal of politeness, if not quite so much 
 sweetness, and Agnes's lonely heart went out to them 
 both as she pressed their hands in warm adieu. 
 
 "What do you suppose it means?" 
 
 Mrs. Southmead asks this, only waiting for a safe 
 distance between the wagon and the house to be 
 reached. 
 
 " She is a decidedly handsome woman, and no fool 
 either," is Mr. Southmead's contribution to the one 
 topic of their thoughts. 
 
 " She must have had some very powerful reason for 
 taking such a strange step," 'Stila says. " She is not 
 only handsome, but she is intelligent and well bred. 
 There is something repugnant to me in this union." 
 
 " There is," Mrs. Southmead responds, as placidly as 
 her vibratory condition will admit of. " I was pleased 
 with one thing." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " He is afraid of her. Some men can be controlled 
 by fear alone," she answers, in an experienced manner. 
 " I foretell a tragedy at Thorndale." 
 
 But as Mrs. Southmead's prophecies were always 
 ominous, and never fulfilled, this one naturally did not 
 disquiet her hearers materially.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 
 
 AND so it came about that, at the close of the 
 called meeting of the lake planters, as they 
 were locally known, which was held in the parlor of 
 Stirling Denny's house, he found himself invested with 
 the grave responsibility of directing the movements 
 and advising the disposition of labor throughout his 
 neighborhood, for purposes of resistance to a foe that 
 advanced upon them with the silent resolution of 
 fate. 
 
 Although many years the junior of most of the men 
 around him, there were two potent reasons for assign- 
 ing him this leadership. One was his superior acquire- 
 ments as civil engineer ; the other, the fact that the 
 entire colored population, regarding him as the apostle 
 of that liberty for which so much precious blood had 
 been spilled, followed eagerly wherever he chose to lead; 
 or, as Squire Thorn tersely put it, " he had every nig- 
 ger in the county under his thumb." 
 
 While perhaps not as familiar with the topography 
 of the country as the squire, Mr. Southmead, or any 
 Other one of the planters who had spent their lives in
 
 OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 127 
 
 that one spot, he brought to bear upon the momentous 
 task of preserving it from the threatening floods a keen- 
 ness of vision, clearness of judgment, and energy of 
 action that was not conspicuous in the others, who, 
 inured to a long succession of disasters, had come, as 
 a rule, to regard any fresh possibilities in that line with 
 stolid patience and fatal apathy. 
 
 Manton Craycraft stood looking down admiringly 
 upon his brother's earnest face as, with a map of the 
 neighborhood, drawn by himself, and now spread out 
 upon the table for the convenience of the assemblage, 
 he explained the need of raising the crown of the levee 
 at one point, of strengthening its base at another, of 
 forming a run-around at a third, and of watching the 
 whole line as men watch for the approach of an invad- 
 ing enemy. 
 
 "You seem to have the whole lake-bed down there, 
 major," he said. " You have evidently been posting 
 yourself." 
 
 " I have been riding around a good deal lately," 
 Stirling answered, quietly. " I have been anticipating 
 this rise, and I believe that very few points between 
 Cairo and New Orleans will escape inundation. Among 
 the few, with the help of God and our own right arms, 
 friends, we may be able to include this little nook of 
 ours." 
 
 He spoke pleasantly and encouragingly. There was 
 no display of triumph over the fact that in this, the hour
 
 1 2i> THE NE W MAN A T XOSSMEKE. 
 
 of their extremity, some of the very men who had ig- 
 nored him as a neighbor, some who had openly de- 
 nounced him as a Yankee carpet-bagger, some who had 
 doled out bare civility to him, were all content to place 
 the safety of their homes and their possessions in his 
 untried hands. There was something about the man 
 that inspired confidence in the most timid ; but no one 
 was more unconscious of this than himself. 
 
 " Squire Thorn," he continued, proceeding to roll his 
 map into a scroll, "I find the very weakest portion of 
 our levee-line is on your place, just below your ' ash 
 slough.' It will require watching day and night. That 
 will be too much of a strain upon you personally. Is 
 there no white man upon your premises beside your- 
 self? With all^ue respect for the muscle and the good 
 intentions of our colored friends, we can not rely upon 
 them for this most important branch of our work. They 
 are too sleepy-headed to make patrolmen." 
 
 Answering under impulse of resentment that anyone 
 should impugn his ability to stand as much as the 
 youngest man among them, the squire said, with clumsy 
 facetiousness : 
 
 " When the strain gets too severe on me, major, 
 I'll notify you, as capt'in of this 'ere brigade of 
 marines." 
 
 " That's fair enough," said the major, ignoring the 
 spite and accepting the promise ; " only, see that you 
 don't fail to do so, please, for when the all of an entire
 
 OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 129 
 
 community is at stake we can't afford to stand on points 
 of etiquette. That place must be watched/' 
 
 " I was about to say to my friend Squire Thorn," said 
 Manton, who had promptly claimed a renewal of last 
 summer's acquaintance, " that as I am a sort of out- 
 sider here, a rover in the game, as you may call me, 
 with more leisure than I well know what to do with, 
 I should like to place myself entirely at his disposal, 
 promising to act under his orders day and night. I 
 really begin to feel my share of the universal anxiety, 
 and will feel mortified if no one will consent to make use 
 of me. Promise me you will accept me as a sort of sub, 
 squire. I'll act as your orderly sergeant by day, and 
 sentinel by night." 
 
 The major glanced quickly up into 'the handsome, 
 laughing face of his brother. It was no slight thing for 
 Manton to offer up his dearly loved ease on the altar of 
 mere acquaintanceship. He caught the eager gleam in 
 his bold black eyes. He had no confidence in this 
 pretense of service. He put a cold veto on this effusive 
 offer of help. 
 
 " No doubt, Craycraft, if Squire Thorn finds that he 
 needs assistance, he can procure it at much more ex- 
 perienced hands than yours." 
 
 This interference settled the matter in Manton's 
 favor. With the proverbial injustice of a small soul, 
 Squire Thorn mistrusted every word or act that could 
 not be squared by his own narrow rule and compass.
 
 1 30 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Denny, he immediately concluded, must have some 
 hidden motive for not wishing this friend of his to give 
 this proffered aid. Moreover, Craycraft had artfully 
 offered himself in a subordinate position. Pride of 
 place was big in the squire; love of supremacy still 
 bigger. He spoke aggressively, as if putting under 
 foot some offending opponent. He gave Manton his 
 entire attention. 
 
 " I'm obliged to you, young man. I don't think 
 things are quite as blue as the major finds 'em, but in 
 case of need I'll remember your friendly offer and call 
 on you for help. There ain't but one nigger on my 
 place I'd trust further'n you could swing a bull by the 
 tail, and as he ain't made of cast iron wisht he was 
 him and me's both likely to give out, in the course of 
 nature. Anyways," he added, with growing friendli- 
 ness, " come up and see me. If you're a stranger in 
 these parts I may be able to amuse you. Reckon you 
 never saw cotton planted, nor been fire-huntin', nor 
 torch-gigging? Oh, we manages to put up a few frolics, 
 if we ain't got theaters and the rest," the squire cul- 
 minates, vain-gloriously. Craycraft thanked him 
 warmly, and accepted eagerly, then flung defiance at 
 Stirling's gravely rebuking eyes with a light reckless 
 laugh. 
 
 After a little more discussion of ways and means, the 
 men dispersed with the understanding that they were 
 to hold themselves and their laborers in readiness to do
 
 OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 131 
 
 the major's bidding so long as there was any thing to be 
 feared from the river that was already flinging its 
 swollen, angry current in majestic wrath against the 
 feeble barriers that puny man opposed to its 
 might. 
 
 Only those who have lived through such experiences 
 can form any just conception of the intense yet un- 
 demonstrative anxiety that held possession of the be- 
 leageured planters for the next six weeks. A line of 
 twenty miles of levee was to be protected from foes 
 without and Avithin. The levees along the river-line 
 were notoriously frail. The lake-planters, placing no 
 faith in these outer works, had intrenched themselves 
 behind a private levee which girdled the nine planta- 
 tions constituting the bed of the lake. An immense 
 culvert pierced the levee on the Rossmere place, for 
 draining purposes. The levee about this culvert was a 
 source of common anxiety to all. Wherever the line 
 might give way, all would suffer alike. Through one 
 small bayou the waters of the lake communicated with 
 the river to which it pays tribute, and back through 
 which the surplus waters are poured in time of a rise. 
 Day by day, hour by hour, the muddy water crept inch 
 by inch higher against the grass-sodded slope of the 
 levee. All day long the patient, cheerful frecdmen 
 trod to and fro with the flat hand-barrows laden with 
 earth dug from the land inside the levee, piling it on 
 the sunken crown. Experienced eyes watched for the
 
 132 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 deadly craw-fish holes, and the faintest line of trickling 
 water was sufficient to send a man galloping in hasty 
 alarm to report the " sipe " at headquarters. The lake, 
 so blue and crystalline in its normal condition, grew 
 turgid and muddy from the influx of river water, the 
 current of which was defined by the slowly moving 
 procession of ugly black drift-logs. All day long the 
 slow, threatening swell heaved against the sodden em- 
 bankment. The men almost lived in their saddles, and 
 the women spent lonely days at home, bearing the 
 harder burden of waiting. A foe of yet another sort 
 was to be guarded against. The wind and the craw- 
 fish were not the only dangers. If the levee protect- 
 ing the bed of the lake should break, the lands outlin- 
 ing the outer circle of the lake would be relieved from 
 the mighty pressure, and saved. In every emergency 
 are men to be found whose instincts of self-preserva- 
 tion overtop all sense of honor. There were men ir. 
 this emergency, men who were ready, by a single stab 
 in the dark, one bold incision of a sharp spade in a weak 
 spot of the levee, to send the water in a rushing torrent 
 upon the beleaguered lake-planters, and not to take 
 to themselves any consciousness of crime. With such 
 vital interests at stake, men fear to trust the freedmen 
 on sentinel duty. Where they were faithful in intent 
 they were physically unfitted for the wide-awake vigil- 
 ance necessary. This made the task of watching bear 
 very heavily on the few white men. But no one shirked
 
 OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 133 
 
 or faltered. Mrs. Thorn felt an access of respect for 
 the sturdy powers of endurance developed by her hus- 
 band in this trying time. 
 
 To her this experience came in shape of a novelty 
 affording distraction from unwholesome introspection. 
 She extracted a feverish sort of entertainment from 
 watching the stealthy advance of the silent foe and 
 more healthy occupation in aiding her husband's efforts 
 to resist it. 
 
 Behind the levee work was progressing as if the 
 making of the crop would not be left to chance ; plows 
 running at regular work-hours ; corn sowed in drills and 
 cotton planted as usual. One slender line of green 
 earth between hopeful industry within and surging de- 
 struction without ! 
 
 Men discussed the probabilities for and against sav- 
 ing the levee as besieged soldiers discuss the holding 
 of the fort. Stirling Denny seemed ubiquitous. 
 Wherever his piercing eye and cheerful voice were last 
 seen and heard, there hope seemed strongest and effort 
 most intelligent. Manton was almost always at his 
 side. His brother designedly kept him as busy as 
 possible. There was an underlying current of uneasi- 
 ness in his bosom about this returned prodigal. He was 
 never sure of what mischief Manton might concoct. It 
 was toward the close of a day nearly a fortnight after 
 the levee meeting at Rossmere that the two men drew 
 rein in front of Squire Thorn's gate, dismounted and
 
 134 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE . 
 
 reached the gallery steps without being observed by 
 the inmates of the house. 
 
 On an iron couch at one end of the front gallery, the 
 old man of the house lay sound asleep. His face 
 looked hard and worn. The rugged lines that seamed 
 and crossed it were haggardly visible. The stern 
 mouth looked more than ever uncompromising in re- 
 pose. His breathing was slow and labored. 
 
 " Pretty well pulled down ! " said Manton, nodding 
 toward the lounge as they stood irresolute on the 
 ground. "He isn't a sleeping beauty, though, is he?" 
 
 Mrs. Thorn appeared noiselessly from somewhere in 
 the interior. She greeted them both with that slight, 
 distant bow of hers, which one of the men at least re- 
 garded as a great improvement on the local habit of 
 universal hand-shaking. She glanced toward the 
 lounge not unkindly as she said : 
 
 " Mr. Thorn is sleeping heavily. I think the anxiety 
 and loss of rest are telling on him ; but he will not 
 give up. Shall I waken him, major?" 
 
 Manton spoke with a quick abruptness that fore- 
 stalled any answer on his brother's part : 
 
 "The squire needs assistance. He promised me I 
 should act as his assistant. With his permission I will 
 stand watch for him to-night." 
 
 The sound of their voices aroused the sleeper. He 
 rose to a sitting posture with some difficulty, holding 
 both hands to his back when he had struggled to
 
 OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 135 
 
 gain his feet. He gazed around stupidly for half a 
 second, then laughed mirthlessly. 
 
 "Caught me napping, eh! Mrs. Thorn, why didn't 
 you shake me up when you saw 'em coming? Wanted 
 'em to think the old wheel-horse had given out, did 
 ye ? " 
 
 " I thought you needed rest, and I was sure Major 
 Denny would not mind," Agnes said, steadily ignor- 
 ing Manton and his offer. 
 
 " It's going to blow big guns to-night," the old man 
 said, walking stiffly to where they were sitting near 
 the door. "Big guns, I tell you. And the swell of 
 them waves is going to be mighty tryin' to the weak 
 places in the levee. I was just tryin' to get forty 
 winks to make sure I could hold out all night. This 
 pesky shoulder of mine," rubbing the offending mem- 
 ber, " 's been giving me hail Columbia with the rheu- 
 matism ; but I reckon I can pull through. Leastways, 
 I've got to keep on the go. No time for swoppin' 
 horses now." 
 
 " You need me, squire," says Manton, coolly walk- 
 ing to the end of the gallery to examine the sky ; "you 
 should have sent for me sooner." 
 
 " If the major could spare you, I won't deny I'd like 
 to have you." 
 
 Stirling tapped his boot-tops impatiently with his 
 long riding whip, and stared out at the swollen lake. 
 He would infinitely prefer that Manton should ride
 
 136 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 away with him when he should leave Thorndale. The 
 squire settled the matter in his own abrupt fashion : 
 
 " Mrs. Thorn, will you please call Jim from the back 
 gallery (I see him go into the kitchen a while back), 
 to take Mr. Craycraft's horse ; I reckon you'll have to 
 spare him to me, major." 
 
 " I can spare him," Stirling answered, coldly ; and 
 then, as Agnes turned from them, so quietly self-pos- 
 sessed in her bearing, so emotionless in her womanly 
 dignity, he felt rebuked for the solicitude that was so 
 nearly an impertinence.. 
 
 But, whenever or wherever had Manton once gained 
 a foothold and trouble of some sort not followed? He 
 rode away alone presently, turning his horse's head in 
 the direction of Tievina. The sun was sending long, 
 level rays through a pile of steel-blue clouds, tipping 
 their edges with lurid light. The green of the water- 
 willows was strangely intensified in the stormy sunset ; 
 the waters held the black shadows of the clouds, in 
 dark reflection ; there was nothing pleasant in the out- 
 look. The heavens above, with their fast-drifting 
 cloud-mountains ; the earth beneath, with its passion- 
 ate ground-swell of evil emotions ; the waters looming 
 into such sinister prominence, all teemed with sugges- 
 tions of darker things yet to come. 
 
 Without any preconceived intention of taking thn 
 Southmeads in his day's rounds, he was not at all sur- 
 prised to find himself, later on, throwing his bridle
 
 OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 137 
 
 over one of the big spikes on the tree that answered 
 for a horse-rack at Tievina, and walking toward the 
 house with the freedom of established intimacy. 
 
 It seemed so perfectly natural not to pass the gate, 
 especially just now, when, having been the entire cir- 
 cuit of the lake, he had quite a budget of river reports 
 to discuss with Mr. Southmead. Then he had a prop- 
 osition to make to Frederic, which he thought would 
 please the lad, and an unfinished model of a tug-boat 
 in his pocket for Carl. It was evident the male mem- 
 bers of the Tievina household were very interesting to 
 the new man of Rossmere.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CONTRASTS. 
 
 THE Tievina family grouped about the gallery pre- 
 sented a cozy contrast to the home the major had 
 just left, and about which he had been ruminating un- 
 comfortably. Reclining luxuriously in the netted ham- 
 mock, swung diagonally across one end of the gallery, 
 was Mr. Southmead, his slightly bald head bared to the 
 evening breeze, taking his ease and his evening smoke; 
 Mrs. Southmead, handsome, indolent, urbane, sat near 
 him, swaying a huge palmetto fan lazily for their 
 united benefit. Ursula was talking to Carl, whose 
 curly head lay close against her cheek, as he leaned 
 over her shoulder. Fred's flute, which was rather a 
 melancholy instrument, sent its dolorous notes out 
 through the opened parlor windows to compete with 
 the brisk yoddling of a mocking-bird close by. The 
 lighted lamp on the hall table gave the group to the 
 major's leisurely inspection as he came up the dusky 
 walk, seeing but unseen. 
 
 " One would think there was no such thing as levees, 
 or booming rivers, or possible inundations, if one's im- 
 pressions were to be gathered in this serene presence," 
 he said, sending his cheerful voice ahead of him by a
 
 CONTRASTS. 139 
 
 few steps ; then, mounting the steps, and waiving the 
 ceremony of a general hand-shaking, he took a vacant 
 chair by Mrs. Ralston's side. 
 
 " These presence, more correctly ! " says Mr. South- 
 mead, assuming an uneasy sitting posture in the sway- 
 ing hammock as a concession to his guest. "This is 
 my hour, Denny. The supremacy of the feminine ele- 
 ment in this household does not permit me to make 
 very frequent use of that little possessive pronoun in 
 the singular number. But, I repeat, this is my hour. 
 In it thou shalt do no manner of work, thou, nor thy 
 wife, nor the niece, nor the stranger that is within thy 
 gates. Have a cigar! Carl, you rogue, bring the ma- 
 jor a match." 
 
 " If the entire decalogue consulted human fallibility 
 to the extent the command for rest does, we should 
 approach nearer perfection than we are likely to do 
 at our present rate of progress," the major answers, 
 scratching the match Carl has brought him on the 
 floor, and illuminating his face for a second as he ap- 
 plies it to his cigar. 
 
 " You will let Carl take your hat and whip, Major 
 Denny, and remain to tea with us, I hope. I am quite 
 sure Mr. Southmead desires it." 
 
 Mrs. Southmead's hospitality was extended in that 
 voice of cool dignity she reserved especially for inter- 
 course with the new man at Rossmere. She had not 
 yet quite gained free absolution from herself for being
 
 140 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 on such apparently friendly terms with their mortal 
 foe. She preferred reserving to herself the privilege of 
 saying, " I told you so," in case he should suddenly 
 develop any of those vicious tendencies which she was 
 morally sure must be latent in every Yankee breast. 
 She was prepared to say on a moment's notice : " You 
 know I never did thoroughly indorse the man." And 
 the major was humorously aware of her guileful atti- 
 tude. But 'Sula did thoroughly "indorse the man," 
 so it was without any mental reservation that she 
 touched over and warmed up this somewhat languid 
 invitation. 
 
 " I hope you won't consider it a hardship to keep 
 Uncle George in countenance during his lazy hour. 
 You must find your duties of general supervision of 
 all the levee forces tiresome in the extreme. We ex- 
 pend a great deal of pity on you here at Tievina." 
 
 " I should like extremely to retain your sympathy 
 by pleading exhaustion," he said, " but I am afraid I 
 can't conscientiously. I really enjoy the life of con- 
 stant activity I am forced to lead. I do not feel in 
 the least fatigued, and if it were not for the grave un- 
 certainty of our situation I should even enjoy the 
 soup^on of danger that flavors our daily experiences just 
 at present." 
 
 " Soup$on, indeed ! " Mrs. Southmead says, dolorous- 
 ly. " If the levee goes this time, I shall never under- 
 take to have a garden or raise poultry again. My past
 
 CONTRASTS, 141 
 
 experience of raising spring chickens in a wagon-bed 
 hoisted on high trestles, and of diving for submerged 
 radishes and lettuce, is too agonizingly fresh in my 
 memory as yet. And there is Carl," she adds, contem- 
 platively, as if the boy were quite secondary to the rad- 
 ishes ; " it keeps one person busy fishing him out of 
 the water and drying him off. I do hope, Major Den- 
 ny, you are keeping every body well up to the mark. 
 I have always contended that supineness on the part 
 of the white men and stupidity on the part of the 
 darkeys has had much more to do with our past mis- 
 fortunes than Providence. It is all very well to fold 
 one's hands and lay every thing on Providence ! " 
 
 " Denny," says Mr. Southmead, with a laugh, " if 
 you don't prove yourself more than a match for Provi- 
 dence and the Mississippi River combined, your reputa- 
 tion will be in tatters, ' Supineness ' and ' stupidity ' 
 will be adjectives altogether inadequate to your deserts. 
 You're a second Atlas, man, with only the difference 
 between a solid and liquid world between your bur- 
 dens. By the way, where is your shadow this evening ? 
 your friend Craycraft ? Do you know my women folks 
 have discovered a marked resemblance between you 
 and your friend. Can't say that I .see any. Why 
 didn't you fetch him along ? The friends of our friends 
 are our friends, you know. Hope he isn't waiting for 
 a special invitation. Carl, go hurry up supper, you 
 rogue."
 
 142 THE NE W MAN A T KOSSMERE, 
 
 Mr. Southmead's habit of saying his say out without 
 any pause or reference to questions to be answered 
 proved of inestimable service in the present instance. 
 The major's face flushed painfully. Fortunately, the 
 darkness concealed that. He abhorred deceit in any 
 and every one of its manifold manifestations. Manton 
 had once been in imminent danger of going to the 
 penitentiary of New York state as a defaulter. He, 
 Stirling, had impoverished himself to ward off the dis- 
 grace and to send him to Europe. He had returned 
 as Manton Craycraft, which was really his name with 
 the Denny dropped. If Stirling could have had his 
 way, his brother would never have come back. As it 
 was, no good could come of stripping off his disguise, 
 and much harm might accrue. Mrs. Southmead, with 
 that keenness of observation which is so often a marked 
 characteristic in women whose minds never soar into 
 the realm of abstract justice, took note of the unusual 
 delay in the major's response and the constraint in his 
 voice when it finally came. 
 
 " I left him at Squire Thorn's. The old gentleman 
 seemed really in need of assistance this afternoon, and 
 asked Craycraft to stay. I was drawing a contrast," he 
 continued, rather hurriedly, " as I came up the walk 
 there, between this home and that one. You all looked 
 so cozy and united, and like a family in short. There 
 we found the old man asleep on an iron lounge, which 
 seemed scarcely more rigid than his own features in
 
 CONTRASTS. 143 
 
 slumber. The house was silent and dark, and pres- 
 ently, when Mrs. Thorn did come out, she was so white 
 and still and grave that, without much effort of imagi- 
 nation, one could fancy her slowly petrifying, to be in 
 keeping with the rigid condition of her life." 
 
 " She would result in a very beautiful piece of statu- 
 ary," says Ursula, accepting his fancy and compliment- 
 ing Mrs. Thorn through it. 
 
 " Yes ; she is very handsome. There can scarcely 
 be two opinions about that." 
 
 A sudden inspiration seized upon Major Denny. 
 Why should he not make this sweet woman by his 
 side, to whom his own heart went out with more ten- 
 der appreciation every time they came in contact, an 
 unconscious coadjutor in his self-constituted guardian- 
 ship of the squire's wife from a nameless vague dan- 
 ger? There was a chivalric determination in his heart 
 to ward off from that lonely woman at Thorndale the 
 possibility of more trouble. In spite of him Manton 
 had established himself at Thorndale. There Stirling 
 was quite sure he would cling. The gossiping procliv- 
 ities of a small country neighborhood were something 
 to be dreaded and warded off vigorously. He turned 
 to 'Sula with the eagerness of a suddenly conceived 
 desire in his voice : 
 
 " She is also a yery lonely woman. It would be in 
 keeping with your reputation for charity, Mrs. Rals- 
 ton, if you would bestow as much time and attention
 
 144 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 on her as possible. I am sure she is appreciative. She 
 speaks gratefully of the efforts you and Mrs. South- 
 mead have already made in her behalf." 
 
 " She may well call it an effort," Mrs. Southmead 
 says, groaning at memory of that ride to Thorndale. 
 " My back aches yet from it." 
 
 'Sula seemed strangely unresponsive, for her. He 
 asked, bluntly: " Do you not like what you have seen 
 of her? " 
 
 " If you think I can be of any service to Mrs. Thorn, 
 I will gladly exert myself in her behalf. "Vou know 
 she does not invite intimacy." Then, more warmly : " I 
 would like her very much if she would let me. I con- 
 fess her union with Squire Thorn has something abso- 
 lutely repulsive in it for me. But she knows best why 
 she married him." 
 
 " At risk of being considered a newsmonger, I will 
 tell you what I have heard." And the major told the 
 story of Agnes's brother, his salvation by the squire on 
 the condition of her mighty sacrifice. Who knew bet- 
 ter than he how to feel for one whose entire life was 
 warped by the ill-doing of a brother? 
 
 " It was nobly done," said Mr. Southmead, as the 
 major concluded his story. " By George, the spirit of 
 self-abnegation in women is marvelous." 
 
 " It was unselfishly done," says 'Sula, slowly, "but 
 
 " But what ? " the major asks, curious to know more 
 of the ethics held by this gentle, reticent woman.
 
 CONTRASTS. 145 
 
 " Not well done," she concluded, adding eagerly, " I 
 pity her very much." 
 
 " Well, if she committed a crime in marrying the 
 squire from such motives," says Mrs. Southmead 
 decisively, " she is being punished more promptly than 
 criminals generally are. There's the tea-bell at last." 
 
 " Perhaps you will not mind riding over to Thorn- 
 dale with me to-morrow," says the major, rather insist- 
 ently, as he walks by 'Sula's side toward the dining- 
 room. 
 
 " I should quite like to," she answered, " only we 
 have but one riding horse now and Uncle George 
 keeps him constantly under the saddle." 
 
 " I think I can give you a better mount than Roxy." 
 
 "What's that about Roxy?" Mr. Southmead 
 turns on him in warm defense of his pet animal, and 
 the talk branches from that horse to horses in general, 
 which is a never-failing topic with a Southern man. 
 
 " "Sula," says Mrs. Southmead mysteriously as, 
 soon after tea, the major takes his leave and Mr. 
 Southmead walks down to the gate to see him off hos- 
 pitably, " I hope some of these days to get a little 
 credit for discrimination. Did you notice that man's 
 embarrassment in talking about his friend Craycraft ? " 
 
 'Sula reluctantly admitted that she had noticed a 
 slight hesitation about his reply. " But what then ? " 
 she asks, tartly, for her. 
 
 " There is something wrong," Mrs. Southmead says,
 
 1 46 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 exultingly " a mystery somewhere. I've never felt 
 quite sure of him. He is a Yankee." Which was 
 quite as if she had said, no good thing can abide 
 therein. 
 
 'Sula turned away coldly. She had no patience with 
 nor words for such an unreasoning and unreasonable 
 spirit as this. It was not to be combated. It was 
 simply to be ignored.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A HIT IN THE DARK. 
 
 SQUIRE THORN'S prediction that it would likely 
 blow " big guns " that night seemed destined to 
 literal fulfillment, and, as they sat around the supper- 
 table, which, out of compliment to " w'ite folks com- 
 pany," Aunt Lucy had sadly overloaded with badly 
 cooked and indigestible dishes, with the wind whistling 
 in through the unceiled weather-boards, setting the 
 lamp flame all a-flutter, Manton Craycraft compli- 
 mented him on his weather wisdom. 
 
 "All the more reason," says the squire, hospitably 
 piling a poached egg on top of the heap of fried Irish 
 potatoes he had rather autocratically helped his guest 
 to, "why you should fortify yourself well before facing 
 the blizzard. We've got to do sentinel duty at the 
 big ditch by my gin to-night. The levee 'crost it is 
 pretty well soaked now. Them devils on t'other side 
 of the lake are just as like as not to pick out to-night 
 for cuttin' the levee." 
 
 " I should think it would take an unusually fearless 
 person to venture across the lake in a skiff to-night. 
 The waves are white-capped and furious," Agnes says,
 
 148 THE NEW MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 studiously glancing away from Manton's plate after 
 having caught his look of amused dismay at the task 
 set him by the squire. 
 
 "I s'pose it does look sort of scary to a woman, but 
 if I had a ill turn to serve any body I'd as soon, and a 
 little sooner, cross the lake now as any other time." 
 The squire finished his coffee audibly, and turned his 
 attention paternally upon Manton. 
 
 " Make out your supper, man, don't eat like a bird. 
 You've got a jolly rough night ahead of you. I think 
 after this one experience you're likely to beg off. But 
 you are in for it this time." 
 
 " Thanks, " said Manton, " I feel fully equal to the 
 night. With Mrs. Thorn's permission I will smoke a 
 cigar before we start," and he pushed his chair back 
 from the table. Agnes watched the two men making 
 their preparations for the night with a feeling of help- 
 less resentment at the cool insolence of this man who 
 had forced his presence upon her, and yet, by his 
 seeming absorption in her husband and his affairs, left 
 her powerless to banish him. She seemed but the 
 merest domestic adjunct to the squire in her guest's 
 apprehension. 
 
 The men got into their mackintoshes and rubber 
 overalls, took each a lantern and a box of matches 
 and were equipped for the night. The squire filled his 
 short brierwood pipe with strong plug tobacco and 
 complacently puffed it in company with Manton's fra-
 
 A HIT IN THE DARK. 149 
 
 grant Havana. As they opened the front door a fierce 
 gust of wind swept in upon them, accompanied by a 
 blinding dash of rain. The squire's lantern was ex- 
 tinguished by it. Manton knelt on the gallery floor to 
 relight it, holding his hat between the wind and the 
 flickering match. 
 
 " How beautiful his head is," Agnes thought, stand- 
 ing by her husband's side and looking down upon the 
 close clinging brown waves of hair that surmounted 
 the young man's head. With a sudden remorse- 
 ful impulse she laid her hand upon the squire's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " This is a fearful night for you to be out. Can not 
 you delegate your duties to Mr. Craycraft and to Jim 
 Doakes ? You can trust Jim." 
 
 " Jim's got his work laid out closter to home," the 
 old man said in a voice made unusually mild by this 
 unexpected display of wifely interest. " I ain't a-goin' 
 to forget that I've got a wife to look after as well as a 
 levee. Jim's better than a dozen watch-dogs. I've give 
 him orders not to leave the house to-night except for 
 a turn on the levee in front out yonder, from the old 
 sycamore tree down to the chain gate. The levee's 
 all right as a trivit long my front, Craycraft, but there's 
 niggers on the Rowan place, just across the lake, that 
 would think they was a-doin' the Lord a good service 
 by slippin' over and takin' a slice out of my levee 
 to-night. Rowan ain't none too good to do it himself,
 
 1 50 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 only he'd be afeard of ketchin' cold, so he'd send some 
 of his folks." 
 
 " Is Jim armed ? " Craycraft asked, pulling the collar 
 of his rubber coat well up about his ears. 
 
 "With nothin' but a good stout club. I'd as soon 
 think of armin' a mule with a pistol as Jim. He'd 
 blow his own brains out by way of practicin' the use 
 of it." 
 
 " Then he'd only be dangerous at close range. Pretty 
 dark out yonder, isn't it ? " 
 
 Manton laughed and boldly led the way out into 
 the wet and blustering night. The squire, bracing 
 himself against the plunge by pulling down the soft 
 brim of his felt hat, and making sure of all the but- 
 tons on his mackintosh, followed with a step quite as 
 determined, if not so springy. Agnes could hear them 
 sloppily making their way through the rain-drenched 
 yard ; could hear them speak to each other in voices 
 raised high to suit the uproar of the storm and the dis- 
 mal swish-swash of the wind-lashed waves as they 
 broke against the resisting levee. She knew when 
 they reached the road by the glimmer of Manton's 
 cigar as he turned to latch the gate behind them. 
 Then her husband's voice came harshly back to her 
 through the turbulent night. 
 
 " If you get scared while Jim's out o' sight, Agnes, 
 there's a loaded pistol in the writin'-desk drawer that 
 may sorter comfort you."
 
 A HIT IN THE DARK. 151 
 
 She sent no answer back through the bluster of the 
 night. 
 
 " Can she use it ? " Manton asked, swinging his lan- 
 tern in search of mud-holes. 
 
 " She can do 'most any thing she's made up her mind 
 to do." The squire's answer came in laborious gasps, 
 for what with the rude dashing of the rain in his face, 
 and the effort of walking against the wind under Man- 
 ton's brisk leadership, his breath was being used up 
 most extravagantly. " She's got the pluck of forty 
 wildcats," he added boastfully. 
 
 " You are either a very lucky or a very unlucky man, 
 then," says Craycraft, with a laugh. Then they swung 
 around a bend in the road and the friendly gleam of 
 their lanterns was lost to the watcher on the gallery. 
 She was left alone, surrounded by impenetrable dark- 
 ness and gloom. She was not conscious of feeling 
 either afraid or lonesome. On the contrary, she felt 
 strangely at one with the tempestuous night. The rain 
 dashed with such a free sweep across the unsheltered 
 veranda that she was driven indoors to escape it. She 
 could not read. The tumult without and within was 
 too real for such mild distraction. She placed her chair 
 just within the open doorway, where, by the aid of an 
 occasional flash of lightning, she could locate the gate, 
 the fence, the dripping cedars, and the angry, surging 
 lake beyond. It was as if memory would give back 
 some old familiar possession for a fleet glance, then
 
 1 5 2 THE NE.W MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 swallow it again in oblivion. Nothing seemed real or 
 abiding but the impenetrable blackness of the night. 
 As a more than usually vivid flash gave the storm- 
 beaten yard to her for another brief glimpse, she saw 
 a tall form advancing toward her from the gate with 
 long strides ; the head was bowed to meet the wind, 
 and the arms were tightly folded over the bosom of a 
 ragged, buttonless coat. In spite of herself, Agnes's 
 voice sounded a trifle nervous as she called out : 
 
 " Is that you, Jim?" 
 
 " Yes, me, missy. Is yer done gim'me up ? Mouty 
 lonesome lak, ain't yer, missy ?" 
 
 The tall, lank form loomed up before her in the 
 darkness, as, with much stamping of his rain-soaked 
 shoes, Jim mounted the steps ; the rough, kindly voice 
 came to her almost from an invisible source. Only the 
 voice of a freedman, but laden with sympathetic kind- 
 ness that sprang from a heart full of humble and loyal 
 affection for her. The woman who had borne so much 
 with dry-eyed fortitude that day broke out into convul- 
 sive and uncontrollable sobs at the simple question. 
 
 Jim's voice was full of distress and sympathy as he 
 said : 
 
 "You ain't skeered now, missy, is you ? Jim'd ben 
 here 'fore now, but I'se ben havin' my eyes skint fur a 
 skiff full er dem raskilly Rowan niggers tudder side de 
 lake. I mistrusses 'em. I does mistrus' 'em, dat I 
 does. I 'lows ef dey knows w'at's good fur dey whole-
 
 A HIT IN THE DARK. 153 
 
 some, dey'll keep der own side de lake. But I ain' 
 gvvine leave you no mo' t'night, dat I ain'." 
 
 Jim settled himself on the floor of the gallery with 
 as much humility as if he really was the watch-dog the 
 squire had likened him to. With his back propped 
 against the frame-work of the front door, and his huge 
 feet in their unseaworthy boots stretched far out upon 
 the rain-washed floor, he gave vent to a " Dar now!" 
 as if he had achieved the highest possibility of physical 
 comfort. 
 
 " Now den, Miss Aggy, ef you'se a min' ter, you kin 
 go t' bed and furgit all yo' trubbles. Can't nuthin' 
 pester you now I'se roun'." 
 
 "You are real good to me, Jim, but I don't think I 
 care to go to bed. I believe I was afraid, though I kept 
 telling myself I was not. I like to know you are within 
 call. You may go to sleep yourself, Jim, and if I hear 
 any sounds out on the lake or about the levee I'll call 
 you." 
 
 " Me go t' sleep ! Lor' bless you, missy, dar ain' no 
 sleep in dis nigger's eyes. I 'lows t' run down t' de 
 ole syc'more presen'ly 'tain' out sight de house. I'd 
 rudder dem Rowan niggers 'd stick t' dey own side de 
 lake ; I mistrusses 'em. But w'ich eva side dey on, 
 dey ain' g\vine cotch dis nigger nappin' t' night. I 
 mistrusses 'em, I does, Miss Aggy." 
 
 Agnes smiled incredulously. Jim could not see the 
 smile, nor be wounded by the incredulity. She rocked
 
 154 THE NE w MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 in silence, taking a fitful interest in speculating as to 
 the nearness of the next flash of lightning. Jim's snor- 
 ing was soon added to the other voices of the night, 
 and pretty soon he collapsed into a shapeless mass on 
 the floor. Agnes left her chair long enough to get a 
 blanket and throw it over the huge recumbent form. 
 Then, with folded hands, she resumed her silent watch. 
 The night moved on apace. The rain ceased and the 
 wind subsided. A few stars struggled feebly irto sight 
 between the rifts in the cloud-rack. The frogs began 
 to croak in noisy convention from each swollen slough 
 in the fields. The waves broke in slower wrath and at 
 wearied intervals against the levee. The harsh-voiced 
 clock made itself heard for the first time in several 
 hours, as it sent eleven loud strokes out on the death- 
 like stillness of the house. But Agnes was still intensely 
 wide awake. She strained her eyes into the darkness 
 with an unaccountable sense of expectancy. The reg- 
 ular beating sound of far-away oars came, muffled by 
 distance, to her strained ears. With hands clasped over 
 her breast she stole to the end of the gallery to listen. 
 Slowly, rhythmically, positively, they dipped into the 
 water, feathered its surface, and thudded against the 
 rowlocks. Nearer, clearer, closer, until the sound of 
 the water rippling away from the bow mingled with 
 the regular dip of the oars. She bent over and 
 touched Jim on the shoulder. 
 "Jim!"
 
 A HIT IN THE DARK. 1 55 
 
 She called once, twice, thrice, with increasing eager- 
 ness and loudness every time. He sprang into wide- 
 awake activity at last with startling suddenness. 
 " What is it, missy? Don' you be skeered. I ain' got 
 no sleep in my eyes dis night. Go to bed, Miss Aggy, 
 Jim ain' gwine let nuffin pester you." 
 
 " Jim, don't you hear oars? Listen." 
 
 He was alert enough now. He listened for a fleet 
 second, then grasped the stout club he had laid on the 
 front steps, and gathered his buttonless coat close 
 about him. 
 
 " Yas 'm ! Oars, en no mistake. You won' be skeert 
 if I leaves you, missy ? dey don't mean no hurt t' you, 
 ennyhow ; it's de levee dey'satter. I'sebleedged to go 
 t' de ole syc'more? Dem Rowan w'ite folks is got a 
 grudge gin de squire, an* dey ain' none too good t' 
 crope over here an' cut his levee." 
 
 " Go, never mind me." 
 
 Agnes spoke with imperious abruptness. With the 
 stealthy tread of a sleuth-hound Jim passed out of her 
 sight. The old sycamore tree was twenty-five yards 
 below the house. The levee was lower and narrower 
 there than at any other point. Agnes listened with 
 every nerve a-quiver. The sound of the oars was above 
 the house. If Jim had gone to the tree he was either 
 ignorantly traveling away from the sound or was try- 
 ing to get to the weak point in advance. Perhaps, 
 after all, it was only a passing skiff. Perhaps, again, it
 
 156 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 was some one bent on her husband's destruction. She 
 lighted a lamp and looked for the pistol her husband 
 had spoken of. She found it, and throwing a large 
 shawl over her head and shoulders, stepped out into 
 the sullen stillness of the night. With instinctive 
 daintiness she gathered her long skirts up in one hand, 
 and stole out toward the direction of those beating 
 oars, with a sudden courage born of desperation. She 
 mounted the crown of the levee, with her gathered 
 skirts in one hand and the loaded pistol in the other. 
 She knew quite well how to handle it. She had often 
 fired at a mark with her brother, for " the fun of it." 
 She stood as motionless as a carven image. She would 
 have a pair of wet feet for her pains if the boat passed 
 her post. The sound of the oars now fell with deadly 
 distinctness on her ears closer and closer, until they 
 ceased suddenly immediately in front of her. By the 
 vague starlight she could see a man leap from the skiff 
 with a long and dark something in his hand. Of 
 course it could be nothing but a spade with which to 
 cut the levee. Her husband and Manton Craycraft 
 were miles away. She dared not call for Jim, her fem- 
 inine voice would betray the weakness of the garrison. 
 The man lifted the dark something, and was about to 
 bring it down with force upon the frail levee. There 
 was nothing for it but to frighten him from his evil 
 work. A slight arm resolutely raised a determined 
 finger upon a fatally responsive trigger a flash a
 
 A HIT IN THE DARK. 157 
 
 groan and the frightened garrison sped with wild 
 haste back to the deserted house. 
 
 The report of the pistol brought Jim speedily back 
 to his mistress's presence. He found her standing over 
 the lighted lamp, staring at the pistol she had thrown 
 upon the table. She was white to the lips and shivered 
 as with cold. Her teeth chattered as she called him to 
 her side. 
 
 " Jim, I have killed some one ! Go look for it 
 there on the bank ! " 
 
 With a terrified exclamation, Jim seized his lantern 
 and rushed in the direction indicated. He promptly 
 returned. Agnes turned her wildly pleading eyes on 
 his face. 
 
 " You ain' done nuthin' uv de kin', Miss Aggy. 
 You's just showed yo' pluck. I hear 'em a-rowin' 'way 
 sorter slow, wid one oar, jes' lak a duck wid one wing 
 broked. You ain' done a bit uv mischief. You's jes 
 give some ov dem Rowan raskils big 'nuff skeer to keep 
 'em ter dey own side." 
 
 "But the groan! Did you find nothing, Jim see 
 nothing?" 
 
 " Spec' you gin 'em a scratch, mebbe. It's mos' day- 
 broke now, missy, an' ef you don't go t'sleep, you 
 gwine be sick, 'deed you is. Wen folks is kilt dey 
 can't git inter a skiff, an' row deyseff off. You mout's 
 well sot yo' min' t'rest 'bout dat. Now, do, my missy, 
 go to bed, jes fur t'please ole Jim ! "
 
 1 5 8 THE NE W MA N AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 Agnes shivered, and turned away toward her bed- 
 room. She stopped at the door, to say again : " Jim, 
 are you sure ? I heard him groan." 
 
 " He wuz wuss skeert than hurt, missy. I lay 
 we hears uv some nigger wid his arm in a sling 
 t'-morrer." 
 
 She went away from him more comforted by the 
 cheerful chuckle that supplemented Jim's opinion -than 
 by the words themselves. She was sleeping heavily 
 from extreme exhaustion, when, an hour or two later, 
 Squire Thorn and Manton Craycraft returned to the 
 house, their night-watch over. 
 
 Manton Craycraft's arm was bound up in his own 
 and the squire's handkerchief. He stopped on the 
 threshold of the bedroom to which his host immedi- 
 ately led the way, and leaned against the door, while a 
 spasm of pain contracted the muscles of his face. 
 
 "We've had a devil of a night of it. I'd like to get 
 a surgeon as soon as possible. Your trees are more 
 dangerous in death than in life. I suppose the one 
 that fell across my arm must have had its roots loosened 
 by the washing away of the soil. It's a wonder it 
 didn't swamp me entirely. How near is your nearest 
 sawbones?" 
 
 "Just up to village, three miles off. Jim jumped 
 right into the skiff as we got out of it, and he'll have 
 him as soon as oars can fetch him. Can't I do some- 
 thin' for you meantime ? I feel purty bad cut up to
 
 A HIT IN THE DARK. 159 
 
 think all this trouble come on you while you was a- 
 doin' me a good Uirn." 
 
 " Nothing. The arm's broken above the elbow, I'm 
 sure of that ! Good thing it's the left one. By the 
 way, don't say any thing to make Mrs. Thorn uncom- 
 fortable. Women take every thing so tragically. A 
 broken arm is only a degree short of a broken neck 
 with them." 
 
 " You are every inch a man, Craycraft," the squire 
 said, enthusiastically, as he assisted the wounded man 
 off with his clothes, and prepared the bed for him. 
 " Considerin' you got hurt in my service, she an' me's 
 boun' to see you through your siege as far as we can 
 make you comfortable. Now then, I'll go and stir Lucy 
 up. I don't believe you can sleep, and some good hot 
 coffee is next best thing I can think of." 
 
 As soon as the door closed upon him, Manton rose 
 from the bed on which he had thrown himself, and 
 passed through the door that connected it with the sit- 
 ting-room. It was there that the desk stood where the 
 squire kept his pistols. On the center table, where 
 stood the lamp still burning smokily in the broad light 
 of day, was the pistol, with one empty chamber. He 
 secreted it on his person, and hastily placed in the 
 writing-desk drawer its mate, full cartridged, as he had 
 taken it with him the evening previous. This done, he 
 wearily threw himself back on the bed, and closed his 
 eyes. But the pain of his tightly-bandaged arm would
 
 160 THE NEW MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 not let him sleep. Presently a low, musical laugh 
 broke audibly from his white lips, and his eyes flashed 
 as if in admiration for some deed of heroism. 
 
 " By George, it was a spirited thing to do. Pretty 
 rough usage though, considering my errand. As God 
 is my witness, I wanted to make sure of her safety in 
 this howling, uncivilized wilderness only that and 
 nothing more! " 
 
 Squire Thorn thought his guest's insistence on seeing 
 his doctor alone rather unreasonable, but was compelled 
 to submit. He remained only long enough to explain 
 volubly to the surgeon how his friend Mr. Craycraft, 
 who had watched the levee with him the night before, 
 had gotten in the skiff at his ash-slough gate, purposing 
 to survey the coast-line between that and the house, to 
 make sure none of the Rowan people were abroad on 
 evil errands, and how, not knowing the bank very well, 
 he had hugged it a little too close, and how a sapling, 
 uprooted and loosened by the storm, fell across the skiff, 
 striking Mr. Craycraft's arm and breaking it ; how he 
 had rowed back on one oar and, as soon as day had 
 broken, and two of the boys had come on watch, he 
 brought Craycraft to the house in a skiff. 
 
 At which point in his statement Manton impatiently 
 requested his departure. As soon as he was alone with 
 his surgeon Manton said : 
 
 " I might as well give you the truth, and tell you why 
 I withhold it from the squire. There's a ball in my arm,
 
 A HIT IN THE DARK. 161 
 
 doctor. I was patrolling and I did get this ball most 
 unexpectedly ; but I'm not fond of sensational stories 
 and don't propose to be made the hero of one. If Mrs. 
 Thorn here, for instance, was to know I'd had a ball 
 put in me while on levee duty, she would be taking it 
 into her head that her husband was in hourly danger of 
 his life. I don't see how the women in this country 
 contrive to exist, anyway. Mrs. Thorn, I believe, is 
 new to it yet." 
 
 " It's very thoughtful of you, I'm sure. Things are 
 pretty rough about here, there's no denying. Our 
 women-folk on the plantations do have a deal to stand, 
 there's no doubt about it. They need hearts of oak and 
 nerves of steel to carry them through." 
 
 " Better combination yet would be nerves of steel and 
 hearts of ice," says Craycraft, with a queer smile, winc- 
 ing as the doctor pressed his probe ruthlessly home in 
 search for the ball. Then physical suffering shut out 
 every other consideration for a little while. 
 
 When Agnes awoke it was to be confronted by her 
 husband with an excited recital of Craycraft's mishap. 
 She listened in dazed silence. Her first act on leaving 
 her own room was to look for the pistol where she had 
 thrown it. It was not on the table. She opened the writ- 
 ing-desk drawer. It lay there as if it had never been dis- 
 turbed. She carefully turned the revolving cylinder. 
 Every chamber was full. She had dreamed it all, then. 
 She saw Jim coming up the walk with the skiff oars,
 
 1 62 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 which always lay in the front gallery when not in use. 
 She walked out to where he stood. She looked white 
 and worn. 
 
 "Jim, I want to ask you something." 
 
 " Mornin' Miss Aggy. Is you dun ressid ? " 
 
 "Jim, did I dream it?" Her voice went out to him 
 in a cautious undertone. 
 
 " Did yer dreamp w'at, Miss Aggy? " 
 
 " That I shot some one that I fired a pistol last 
 night ! " 
 
 Jim wondered if the frightened look in her eyes fore- 
 boded "craziness." Folks used to call the Boss's other 
 wife " sorter crazy." Lies he held were always excusa- 
 ble if they were of a soothing tendency. Poor Jim's 
 morals were purely instinctive. If a lie would drive 
 that wild look out of his beloved mistress's eyes, why 
 should he hesitate to tell one? He did not hesitate. 
 He lied deliberately and cheerfully. 
 
 " Corse you dreampt it ! What fur who at you 
 gwine fire a pistol ? " he said promptly, and the relieved 
 look in Agnes's eyes was all the reward he asked.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AUNT NANCY'S MILLENIUM. 
 
 AB'M!. Ab'm! A-bra-him ! Ab'm Potter! You 
 A-bra-him Pot ter ! " 
 
 In sharp staccato and ever-increasing accelerando 
 Aunt Nancy "Southmead's" voice rang out upon the 
 noonday air from her cabin door, calling lustily for the 
 husband of her bosom, the partner of her life, and the 
 sharer of her woes. Aunt Nancy led a dual life and 
 sustained a dual character. Let him who is without 
 reproach in this respect cast the first stone at her. 
 To the family at the " big house " and the sparse white 
 population of the neighborhood she was Aunt Nancy 
 Southmead, the best cook and most reliable house ser- 
 vant in the country. In the "quarters," and to the 
 dense colored population of the lake bed, she was Mrs. 
 Ab'm Potter, a lady of social importance, and a person- 
 age of marked dignity. The facts of her husband, 
 Abram Potter, being head of the biggest "squad " and 
 the best " crapper" on the place, as well as first engi- 
 neer during ginning time, established her social su- 
 premacy beyond peradventure. 
 
 Aunt Nancy had come to years of discretion during
 
 164 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 " reb times," and, having always been a favored and 
 petted servitor, she bore about in her ample bosom 
 nothing but loyal devotion for her " white folks." In 
 the days of their fiery ordeal she was staunch and true. 
 When the end came, and Aunt Nancy was free as the 
 wind to go where she listed, she chose to remain with 
 those who had been good friends to her in the days of 
 her dependent slavery, and would be, she was wise 
 enough to believe, her safest reliance until death did 
 them part. But notwithstanding her loyalty to the 
 big house and its patrician inmates, she derived a full 
 measure of satisfaction from being a free woman, and 
 from the consciousness that the loyal service she still 
 rendered was a matter of choice rather than compul- 
 sion. In her way she was a shrewd observer of human 
 nature, and a philosopher of no mean pretentions. In 
 her home she was absolutely autocratic, and seemed to 
 expend upon Abram, the most humble and inoffensive 
 of spouses, all the possibilities of her nature in the 
 way of tartness, exasperation, and unreasonable exac- 
 tion. 
 
 On the occasion in question Aunt Nancy impatiently 
 pushed aside the intrusive tendrils of a purple flower- 
 ing bean that clambered luxuriantly over her cabin 
 porch, and peered out in the direction of the field 
 where Abram should have been at work, to ask impa- 
 tiently of space: " Whar am dat nigger? " Then, with 
 the justice of human nature in general, and of her sex
 
 A UNT NANCY'S MILLENNIUM. 1 65 
 
 in particular, she relieved the pressure upon her moral 
 system by emptying the vials of her wrath upon the 
 objects nearest at hand. Lucklessly for them, those 
 nearest objects on this occasion were Lucifer, her first- 
 born and only son, Victoria Meenervy, her last born 
 and only daughter, and " Cap," Abram's yellow cur. 
 which he prized above all earthly possessions, next to 
 his wife and dusky olive branches. 
 
 ' You Vic ! yer good-fer-nuthin' bag er bones ! take 
 dat baskit an" gedder me a mess u' greens in three 
 shakes of a sheep's tail. Yer reck'n I gwine work my 
 fingers t' de bones at big house an' den come down 
 here t' cook vittles fer you an' dat triflin' pappy er yo'n, 
 an' him too owdacious lazy to leave me a stick er wood 
 cut, en you too triflin' ter pick de collards after I done 
 growd em' fer ye ! Cl'ar out, fo' I slays yer 'live ! " 
 
 Vic and the basket were hurled out of the cabin gar- 
 denward with agility, and Mrs. Potter turned her at- 
 tention to Lucifer, who had fled from the wrath to 
 come and hidden himself behind the water-barrel 
 under the front shed : 
 
 " You Luce, I sees yer, yer skulkin' scamp ! Fotch 
 me some chips, boy. Quick, too, ef yer knows wot's 
 good fer ye. En ef you don' have a fire lighted under 
 de po'k pot by de time Vic gits back wid dem greens, 
 why, all I'se got to say is, I'll be sorry fer you mouty 
 sorry, boy." 
 
 Lucifer disappeared in Vic's wake, and Cap, with
 
 1 66 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 that subtle animal instinct which stands the brute 
 creation in good stead of man's boasted reasoning 
 faculties, slowly rose from his recumbent position 
 under the bed, tucked his tail apologetically between 
 his legs, and, keeping one cautious eye upon the 
 enemy, sidled judiciously toward the door. 
 
 " Yer'd better," Aunt Nancy said, in recognition of 
 this strategic move on Cap's part ; then, having routed 
 the entire garrison, she applied herself in silence to 
 putting Abram's pork on to boil, his corn cake in the 
 covered skillet to bake, and to fishing out of the open 
 molasses jug on the table some half-dozen or more 
 flies, that had rashly courted death in its black and 
 sticky depths. 
 
 This done, Aunt Nancy took down a cow's horn that 
 hung over the low cabin door, and blew a blast that 
 would have excited spasms of envy in Roderick Dhu's 
 breast, could that immortal hero but have heard it, 
 
 "Wot in de name uv de nashun is yer makin' sech a 
 rackit 'bout, ole woman? Yer's ben a yelpin' an' 
 a-gwine on wuss den Cap do w'en he git in a bumbly 
 bee nes'." 
 
 Abram's answer to this last summons was given in a 
 low, mild voice, so immediately under her nose that 
 Aunt Nancy was covered with that sudden sense of 
 foolishness that overcomes us all when we find our 
 exertions quite superfluous for the occasion. She 
 dropped the horn, and laughed aimlessly.
 
 A UN T NANCY'S MILLENNIUM. 1 6 7 
 
 " Ef yer'd ben civil 'nuff ter answer befo', 'twouldn't 
 'a' hurted you, nor a sot me back enny," she said, 
 hanging the horn up again by its twine string, and 
 mopping her face with her apron. 
 
 " Den der would 'a' ben two fool niggers a-yelpin" 
 'stead er one," said Abram, with a grin, after which he 
 sniffs toward the cabin very much as Cap might have 
 done, to ask : " Is de vittles ready ? " 
 
 " Not yit. Dem triflin' young 'uns had'n' so much 
 as fotch me a pail uv water w'en I got yere. But I 
 made 'em hump deyseff, I did. An' it would'n' 'a' 
 hurted you ter lef me some wood cut up, dat it 
 would'n'." 
 
 " Wot fur yer hustle me up so den ? " Abram asked, 
 throwing himself for his noonday rest in a recumbent 
 position on a carpenter's bench that stood under the 
 big gum tree shading his cabin. 
 
 " Well, ole man, I laks fer ter have a chance to talk 
 ter yer 'tween whiles," says Aunt Nancy, with wifely 
 cajolery. " Yer's so sleepy-headed er nights dar ain' 
 no satisfaction in tryin' to tell yer nuthin'." 
 
 " Is yer got any thin' to tell me now ? " Abram asks, 
 practically. 
 
 Aunt Nancy retreated to the interior of the cabin 
 long enough to throw a lapful of greens, which she had 
 stemmed in violent haste, into the pot where the 
 family ration of pork was already bobbing and bub- 
 bling greasily, took a peep at the corn pone in the
 
 1 68 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 covered skillet, piled a few fresh coals on the lid of it, 
 and came back to the open doorway to say, with 
 solemn positiveness : 
 
 "Abram, de mellenyium's done come." 
 
 " Wot you say, ole woman ? " Abram sleepily 
 opened his eyes at this remarkable assertion. 
 
 " De mellenyium done come ! " Aunt Nancy repeats, 
 in a voice of conviction. 
 
 " Who done tole you so ? " Abram asks, sitting bolt 
 upright, with an eagerness in voice and eye which 
 nothing short of news from the celestial kingdom could 
 have evoked from his stolid soul. 
 
 " Nobody didn* tole me. I done see it myself wid 
 dese ve'y eyes uv mine. De lyin and de lam' a-layin' 
 down t'gedder." 
 
 "Whar, Nancy?" 
 
 Abram sprang from the carpenter's bench and stood 
 erect, giving a vigorous hitch to his suspenders, as if 
 preparing on a moment's notice to take any part that 
 might be assigned him in propagating the glad 
 tidings. 
 
 " Leastways," says Aunt Nancy, with anti-climax 
 composure, " ef I ain' see de lyin an' de lam' a-layin' 
 down t'gedder, I'se seen de nex' thing to it." 
 
 "Wot's dat, Nancy?" There is a falling inflection in 
 Abram's voice. 
 
 " I see Mr. Major Denny, which he air a Yankee 
 genTman, yer knows, Ab'm, an' our Miss Sulie, which
 
 A UNT NANCY'S MILLENNIUM. 169 
 
 she air de widder uv a reb soldier which were killed by 
 de Yankee gen'l'men, a ridin' off t'gedder this mornin', 
 him on dat black hoss which steps sorter proud, lak he 
 was set up kase he's totin' uv de major about, an' Miss 
 Sulie on a purty little roan mar' his boy Alf rid over 
 on. An' dey look jes' as happy as we'll all look in de 
 golding hours uv de millenyium in de kingdom come." 
 
 " W'ich were de lyin 'n' w'ich were de lam', ole 
 woman?" Abram asks, disgustedly preparing to piece 
 out his broken nap "de major's black hoss or Miss 
 Sulie's roan mar'?" 
 
 " An' I tell yer wot, ole man," Nancy continues, waiv- 
 ing this frivolous interruption. " I kin see through a 
 hole in de grin'stone as well as de bes* uv yer. Wen 
 de black hoss en dat roan gets to travelin' in company, 
 somepun gwine to turn up." 
 
 " Dat ole black hoss was raised by one uv de wuss 
 en'mies Mars George Soufmead ever had," Abram says, 
 reflectively and irrelevantly. 
 
 " Dat's wot I ben tellin' yer," says Aunt Nancy, in 
 illogical triumph. " Den yer see de finger uv Provy- 
 dince in it all, Ab'm, jes' es plain es de nose on er man's 
 face? God bless our Miss Sulie ! She's wuff us all b'iled 
 inter one. But won' dis nigger mek her a wedd'n' cake 
 dat'll take de rag off' n de bush ! " 
 
 " Go slow, ole woman, er yer mout run over 
 yo'seff. Slow en sure. Nancy, which way did dey 
 trav'l ? "
 
 1 70 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 "Straight up de lake todes ole Squire Thorn's." 
 
 " Thar's trubble at de squire's." Abram imparts this 
 bit of news placidly. 
 
 " Trubble. En wot sort, ole man?" 
 
 "Jim Doakes, he come a-rowin' by so y'arly dis 
 mornin', jes' as I wen' down t' lake t' look at my water 
 mark for de fuss time sence las' night, an' I ups an* 
 axed him wot his hurry was. En he tole me he was 
 gwine fur de doctor fur de major's frien', which was 
 laid up wid a hurt at dey house." 
 
 " Wot sorter hurt ? " Nancy asks, anxiously. 
 
 " That's all I gott'n outer him. Ef Jim knowed enny 
 mo' he wa'n' gwine t' let on. Jim's one er yer close- 
 moufed niggers, any way yer tak' him." 
 
 This hint of sorrow and pain so close at hand caused 
 Aunt Nancy to suddenly revise her opinion concerning 
 the close proximity of the millennium. 
 
 "Abram," she said, pensively fishing the collards 
 dripping with hot grease from the pork pot, " these air 
 tryin' times. Wot wid de ribber er knockin* at de do' 
 lak it was boun' t' git in en swaller us all up wedder er 
 no ; an' de w'ite folks seemin' lak dey done los' dergrip 
 on ev'y thing dey used to own ; en strange w'ite folks 
 gitt'n' knocked up musteerus lak es you tole me 'bout 
 dis frien' uv de new man at Rossmere, dar's no knowin' 
 wot evil days is in sto' fur us yet." 
 
 " Yer's right, ole woman, mouty right," Abram says, 
 attacking the pork his wife has placed before him with
 
 AUNT NANCY'S MILLENNIUM. 1 7 1 
 
 co-responsive gravity, " but de Lord, He hoi's us all in 
 de holler uv His han's." 
 
 " He do, praise be His name forever en forever, amen! 
 Dem pesky flies done got inde 'lasses 'gin. Hyer, you 
 Vic, go bre'k a lim' off'n dat mulberry saplin' en come 
 keep de flies off'n yo' pappy w'ile he eats his vittles." 
 And while Vic kept the flies off her pappy, Aunt Nancy 
 righted things up before returning to her house duties, 
 and Abram made alarming inroads into the pork and 
 greens which Cap and Lucifer eyed hungrily from a 
 distance. And Stirling Denny and Mrs. Ralston rode 
 slowly through the cool and fragrant woods, utterly 
 unconscious of the wild speculations this ride of theirs 
 had given rise to down at the " quarters."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A MO RNING RIDE. 
 
 A MORNING of serene loveliness had succeeded 
 to the bluster and gloom of the previous night. 
 It was as if nature smiled apologetically for her naughty 
 raging of the night just gone. The intense blue of the 
 sky overhead was reflected on the broad expanse of 
 the glittering lake, which, though high enough to send 
 the crest of a wave slopping over any depression in the 
 surface of the levee, now lay as calm and seemingly 
 harmless as a sleeping child. 
 
 " Do you know," said Ursula, as the bridle-path 
 turned abruptly away from the lake to plunge into the 
 shadowy depths of the forest, " it is a relief to me to 
 lose sight of that lake. There is a horrible fascination 
 about the water in its present threatening aspect that 
 keeps one's nerves in a painfully tense condition. But 
 in here " she waved her riding whip comprehensively 
 around " one becomes oblivious of watery perils, past 
 or probable. There is something so restful, so peace- 
 ful, in the fragrant stillness of these woods." 
 
 " Many such seasons of anxiety as the present would 
 place us all in a position to appreciate the excellence of
 
 A MORNING RIDE. 173 
 
 the eternal hills. If we can only hold out for a few 
 days longer, relief will come. The rivers above are all 
 falling, and the fall certainly must have reached Mem- 
 phis by this time." 
 
 " ' If we can only hold out.' Then we are not secure 
 now? You do not feel quite sure of the levee ? " 
 
 'Sula turned an anxious face toward her companion. 
 He had borne such a brave front, had seemed at times 
 so absolutely free from care, that she had taken his 
 outward bearing as an indication of perfect inward 
 security. The major flushed with annoyance at having 
 carelessly aroused her ready fears. He turned toward 
 her with a re-assuring smile. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Ralston, there is a wise old saw that 
 advises against hallooing before one is out of the 
 woods. We are not yet quite out of the woods, that 
 is all. Literally speaking, it is so delightful in them 
 this morning that one does not feel like hurrying 
 through them, even for the privilege of hallooing. 
 Listen ! was there ever a sweeter, more varied, or 
 more inimitable songster than that mocking-bird ? " 
 
 " I love our mocking-birds," 'Sula says, warmly, 
 " they are so peculiarly and entirely our own." 
 
 " Then a thing must of necessity be racy of the soil 
 before it can hope to rank high in your estimation," 
 Stirling says, energetically decapitating some tall coffee 
 weeds with his riding-whip. 
 
 " Things, perhaps, but not people," 'Sula answers,
 
 174 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 with a bright, sidewise look at him. " I like to think 
 we have some few distinctive features not open to cen- 
 sure ; something that we can love loyally and exclu- 
 sively, without endangering our reputation for loyalty 
 to the best government the world ever saw. Having 
 no institutions that can give us a desirable individual- 
 ity, I am taking refuge in our birds 'and flowers. A 
 sort of harmless boastfulness makes me think we shall 
 always retain our supremacy -there." 
 
 " The day is not far distant when the South will be 
 able to boast a healthy supremacy in very many more 
 important respects. The fact that she is getting into 
 position to realize some benefit from her hitherto 
 unsuspected resources is matter for fraternal rejoicing 
 to all right-thinking men." 
 
 *' I sometimes think," says 'Sula, despondently, " that 
 more than one generation will have to pass away before 
 there will be any appreciable improvement in matters. 
 Our men cling so tenaciously to traditionary ways of 
 doing every thing. They must have a precedent for 
 every move. The majority of our precedents are not 
 worth the preserving. There seems to prevail a uni- 
 versal tendency to let well enough alone, which virtu- 
 ally consists in letting ill enough alone. I don't like 
 to feel so dissatisfied with my own people ; but the 
 happy-go-lucky way of doing things which carried our 
 planters safely enough over the smooth waters of ante- 
 bellum times is but a sorry dependence for the boys
 
 A MORNING RIDE. 175 
 
 now approaching manhood, with nothing but their own 
 untrained faculties to depend upon. Fred, for instance 
 his prospects for success or usefulness in the world 
 are slender indeed." 
 
 " I have wished very much to have the boy more 
 with me. I think I could be of some little service to 
 him. He is too dreamy, too given to brooding rather 
 than resolving. But," the major hesitated, " I doubt 
 his mother's cordial approval. Listen ! " With an 
 entire change of voice, he uttered this word, drawing 
 rein so suddenly that the Black Prince was thrown on 
 his haunches. 
 
 A low, soft, gurgling sound, as of water percolating 
 through an obstruction, came to their ears through the 
 strip of woodland that hid the levee from their sight. 
 To 'Sula's experienced ears the sound was full of men- 
 ace. Major Denny suddenly dismounted, and secured 
 his horse to the nearest tree-branch. 
 
 " One moment, please ; I must examine into this." 
 Then he went crashing through the briers and under- 
 brush toward the sound, leaving 'Sula trembling with 
 apprehension, but outwardly composed. She would 
 gladly have followed him through the brush and briers, 
 for waiting in suspense is the hardest of all burdens to 
 bear, but by remaining in the saddle she would, if it 
 proved necessary, be in position to summon aid all the 
 quicker. A lusty halloo came to her presently in 
 Major Denny's voice.
 
 1 76 THE NE W MAN A T XOSSMERE. 
 
 " Shall I come to you ? " she called back, nervously. 
 
 "Immediately. You can not ride through the 
 bushes. Dismount. Lose no time." 
 
 Quickly and unhesitatingly she obeyed his directions, 
 first securing her horse to a limb, then gliding to the 
 ground with the ease of a practiced horsewoman. 
 Gathering her long, cumbersome skirts closely in both 
 hands, she ran rather than walked in the direction of 
 his voice. When she came in sight of him her heart 
 bounded with tumultuous alarm. Only his head and 
 shoulders were visible above the briery brink of a ditch 
 known locally as the Thorndale Big Ditch. They were 
 now on Squire Thorn's land. This ditch, which under 
 normal conditions drained his place into the lake, had 
 been leveed over at its mouth, as soon as the lake had 
 reached the danger line. Through this freshly made 
 levee the water was now running in a stream which, 
 insignificant at present, was fraught with peril to 
 the entire bed of the lake if not immediately 
 checked. 
 
 With difficulty 'Sula made her way to the edge of 
 the ditch. The brambles on the thick-growing dew- 
 berry bushes caught her heavy woolen riding skirt in 
 thorny clutches, which she loosened with fierce impa- 
 tience, reckless as to the preservation of a garment in 
 which heretofore she had taken no small amount of 
 pride. Her untried feet, in their thin-soled shoes, car- 
 ried her unsatisfactorily over the rough and rubbish-
 
 A MORNING RIDK 177 
 
 strewn ground. When she reached the point of danger 
 it was to find that Stirling Denny had forced an open- 
 ing for himself in the weed-choked bottom of the 
 ditch, and was now standing ankle deep in the rain- 
 water that had fallen the night before and had no out- 
 let. On the bank lay his coat, vest, hat, and, in the 
 crown of this last, the entire contents of his pockets, 
 among them a heavy gold watch and chain that glit- 
 tered in the sunlight. He looked up at her with anx- 
 ious eyes, but jesting lips. 
 
 " After all, I was compelled to halloo before I was 
 out of the woods. I was sorry to call you to me, but I 
 dared not lose sight of this for a second. Nothing short 
 of criminal neglect on the part of Thorn and Craycraft 
 would have left such a point unwatched. I wanted 
 you to report the danger accurately, else I should not 
 have called you to me. I will stay here and ward off 
 the peril if I can. You must send me aid as quickly as 
 possible from Thorndale. We are three miles from the 
 house yet. The ditches are all so much alike you must 
 not mistake." 
 
 " No, oh, no, I won't mistake ! " 'Sula looked with 
 frightened eyes from him to the trickling water. As he 
 stood in the ditch on the land side of the levee, the 
 waters on the outside of it were a foot or two higher 
 than his head. Should the levee give way with the sud- 
 den and explosive force customary with them, his posi- 
 tion would prove fatal. He would be swept away
 
 1 78 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 like an autumn leaf on the rushing current. " How 
 can you ward off this peril ? " she asked. "You have 
 nothing to work with ! Let me stay, and you go for 
 help. You can ride faster than I." 
 
 He saw through the tender ruse to beguile him from 
 his perilous position, and a smile of ineffable sweetness 
 chased the anxiety from his grave eyes as they rested 
 on her agitated features. 
 
 " What could you do, dear ? " 
 
 In that moment of suppressed excitement and 
 impending doom it did not seem strange to her that he 
 should thus address her. It sounded simple, right, true, 
 and very sweet. 
 
 " You can not possibly get anyone here under half 
 an hour," he resumed, hurriedly. " In that time much 
 might happen. There is but one chance for the levee; 
 that one chance I shall give it. The danger increases 
 every second. Ride at your utmost speed. Do not 
 spare the roan ; have only a care for her rider's neck. 
 Wait. Take from my hat there my papers and my 
 watch. If any thing should happen keep the watch, 
 please, as a souvenir of your mortal foe. Now go." 
 He smiled bravely up into her pale face ; then, throw- 
 ing himself prone upon his side, he thrust his bared 
 right arm into the soft ooze of the soil where the trick- 
 ling stream ran through. 'Sula stretched her hands 
 over him imploringly. 
 
 " Come with me. The peril is too great. Let those
 
 A MORNING RIDE. 179 
 
 who have brought it upon themselves suffer for their 
 criminal neglect." 
 
 "The women 'and children who would suffer the 
 most did not bring it about. If my right arm can 
 serve to stop this leak until you fetch succor, it will 
 have done'loyal service for the land you love. Every 
 second's delay increases the danger to the levee and 
 to me." 
 
 His voice was so steady, his eye so resolute, his 
 cramped and painful attitude so determined in its 
 sacrificial heroism, that 'Sula felt her own weaker soul 
 roused to an answering resolution. 
 
 " Surely the good God will not let such self-abnega- 
 tion fail of its reward," she murmured to herself as she 
 turned trembling away from him. " He will keep him 
 until I can bring aid." 
 
 Stirling heard her, as she hastily retreated, unmind- 
 ful now of the merciless briers that smote her in the 
 face or of the rough ground that impeded her foot- 
 steps. He heard the quick trampling of her horse's 
 feet over the short wooden bridge that spanned this 
 ditch where it crossed the road, then the sound of her 
 rapid progress died away in the distance, and he knew 
 that thirty long and anxious minutes at least, must 
 elapse before she could possibly send him any relief. 
 In that length of time what might not happen? If this 
 spouting water, whose flow he had checked by making 
 a stopper of his arm, had been caused by a recently
 
 1 80 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 made craw-fish hole, he might successfully ward off 
 danger until help came, if, on the contrary, it had been 
 running all night and softening the interior of the en- 
 tire levee, at any moment the whole structure might 
 yield to the tremendous pressure of water against it, 
 give way, and allow the foe they had defied for weeks 
 to enter, making a broad and desolating pathway for 
 itself, sweeping away the hopes of hundreds, and even 
 sweeping him, Stirling Denny, into eternity. On the 
 fleetness of a horse's feet, urged on by a woman's 
 trembling hand, perhaps, his life was hanging. 
 
 And with this consciousness on her, too, Ursula sped 
 through the woods, with a white face and an aching 
 heart. With whip and voice she urged the roan for- 
 ward, quivering with nervousness as the animal's sharp 
 shrill neighing rent the quiet air in noisy protest against 
 this sudden separation from the Black Prince. With 
 that strange faculty of mental absorption by which we 
 take unconscious note of the most trivial objects or 
 occurrences during our sorest soul-travail, she heard 
 the mocking-birds answering each other in tones of gay 
 defiance; she noted how thickly the wild blue-bells 
 blossomed along the roadside ; her senses accredited 
 the delightful fragrance that greeted them at a certain 
 turn in the road to the elder-bushes, whose lace-like clus- 
 ters she remembered were always thickest in that spot. 
 The low-hanging branches of a sycamore by the road- 
 side rudely brushed the plume in her riding-hat as she
 
 A MORNING RIDE. 181 
 
 galloped under them ; she would certainly ask Uncle 
 Ephe to cut that low branch away ; the touch of it 
 seemed to vibrate through her nerves for many a day 
 after that reckless ride. Every faculty was on the 
 alert ; every sense was imbued with tenfold acuteness. 
 Yet she was aware of no thought but of the resolute 
 man she had left behind, who might even at that 
 moment be offering up his precious life, a useless 
 sacrifice. 
 
 She bent over in her saddle to lift the clumsy wooden 
 latch to the squire's pasture gate. Two of his plow- 
 men, with bridles swung over their shoulders, were 
 lazily approaching it from the other side. She drew 
 rein directly across their path, and said, with slow pre- 
 cision, her own voice sounding unfamiliar to her: 
 
 " Throw down those bridles. Take axes and spades, 
 and go as fast as you possibly can to the big ditch, 
 where the button willows grow. The levee is about 
 to break. Major Denny is guarding it with his life. 
 He is the best friend we all have. If we are saved it 
 will be by him." 
 
 The stolid indifference of the men, who stood 
 motionless before her, irritated her into a frenzy of 
 impatience. Her voice was shrill with pain as she 
 asked : " What are you standing there, staring at me 
 for? Why do you not go stupid, ungrateful things 
 that you are." 
 
 " Our mules is out 'n de paster, missy ; we wuz jes'
 
 182 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 a gwine fur 'em, an' I wuz a stud'in' how we could git 
 dar de quickiss'. We'se got spades an' axes hid in de 
 woods clost to dat ve'y ditch." 
 
 Ursula glided to the ground while they were speak- 
 ing. She pointed imperiously to her own empty sad- 
 dle. 
 
 " Mount, both of you. Ride as fast as the horse 
 can carry you if you kill her ! " 
 
 Her last words were cast upon the vacant space 
 where a second before the roan had stood, with quiv- 
 ering flanks and dilated nostrils. Now that she had 
 sent succor to Stirling Denny, she had time to real- 
 ize her own overwrought condition. She felt dizzy 
 and faint. Sinking upon the side of the levee, she 
 bowed her head upon her knees, while sob after sob 
 convulsed her slender frame. She felt the better for her 
 tears. Suddenly she sprang to her feet again. Suppose 
 these stupid negroes should go to the wrong ditch ? 
 Suppose they should lag so in their coming it would 
 be too late? Suppose Stirling Denny was at that 
 moment being overwhelmed by the surging water? 
 She must find Squire Thorn, and send him to the rescue. 
 The house was in sight ; a mile of rapid walking 
 and she would be there. She gathered her heavy skirts 
 about her, and hastened forward on foot. She passed 
 a cabin door, where the inmates were loitering in noon- 
 day idleness. Two men, stalwart field hands, lay laz- 
 ily stretched, face downward, on the gallery floor, in
 
 A MORNING HIDE. 183 
 
 friendly juxtaposition to several dogs. A woman, "in 
 unwomanly rags," sat upon an inverted wash-tub, giv- 
 ing nourishment to a baby whose slovenly appearance 
 was in keeping with its surroundings ; an old woman, 
 decrepit from age, glanced up from her task of string- 
 ing red peppers to send a wondering glance of her 
 bleared eyes after 'Sula, as she swept swiftly by the 
 tumble-down fence which barred this thriftless abode 
 of a thriftless people from the public road. Half a 
 dozen boys, ragged, happy, and dirty, were playing 
 marbles in the rain-beaten road, their faces beaming 
 with animal content and bacon grease. Mrs. Ralston's 
 skirts sent their " white taws " and " china alleys " in 
 in every direction. With good-natured grins they 
 replaced them and resumed their sport. At every 
 cabin door, with some slight variations, this grouping 
 was repeated. The unthinking placidity of those dark 
 faces smote upon 'Sula's excited nerves. She was in 
 a frame of mind to take issue with Providence on the 
 seeming lack of justice displayed in Its workings. 
 Was it for such as these that Stirling Denny's precious 
 life was being jeopardized ? They were not worthy of 
 it. Not worthy that harm should come to one hair of 
 his dear head. She swept past the "quarters," followed 
 by many stolidly wondering glances. She reached the 
 house at last. 
 
 Squire Thorn had just come in from his daily task 
 of watching his mules consume their rations when
 
 184 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Ursula, pallid and bemired, stood before him in the 
 doorway of his own hall. She spoke in a voice of 
 querulous command : 
 
 " Go to your willow ditch. Your mortal foe is there 
 risking his life to save the levee you have neglected. 
 The levee across your big ditch is about to give way. 
 Go." 
 
 Squire Thorn needed no second bidding. Her news 
 was of so alarming a character that it did not occur to 
 him to resent the manner of its delivery. He was soon 
 clattering down the road on old Whitey. Agnes, hear- 
 ing a sharp feminine voice in excited monologue in the 
 hall, came out just as 'Sula's overtaxed system yielded 
 to the strain, and she sank, sobbing hysterically, into 
 her hostess's arms.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN THE GAP. 
 
 THE sound of the horse's retreating hoofs had long 
 since died away in the distance, and Stirling Den- 
 ny's eyes were resting on the green and shady woods that 
 closed in closely about him with the intense gaze of a 
 man who was keenly alive to the peril he had volun- 
 tarily involved himself in, and also calmly and ration- 
 ally alert for any chance of escape therefrom. His 
 hearing, remarkably acute at all times, was rendered 
 doubly so by his present extremity. 
 
 The crackling of dry twigs in the distance was borne 
 to his ears. He tried to decide by what manner of ani- 
 mal it might be made. It was most probably a cow 
 grazing on the tender cane-shoots, so dear to the palate 
 of that ruminant, or a mule astray from the plow- 
 hands of Tievina or Thorndale. There was one chance 
 for, to a great many against, its being a human being. 
 The ditch that he was guarding was in a very lonely 
 part of the woods, between the two places. The crack- 
 ling of dry twigs came nearer. It had an irregular, halt- 
 ing sound. On the one chance of its being a person, 
 the major sent a lusty " halloo " from his damp couch in 
 the bottom of the ditch.
 
 1 86 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 To his surprised pleasure there came back to him in 
 a ringing voice: 
 
 " Halloo yourself? Where are you, and what do you 
 want ? " 
 
 " I'm down in the big ditch, and I want to communi- 
 cate with the owner of that voice." 
 
 The undecided, hesitating crackling among the dry 
 twigs was exchanged for a very decided sound of fast 
 running, which in an incredibly short time brought 
 Fred Southmead's startled face and wondering eyes to 
 bear upon the man in the ditch. 
 
 " Why, major ! " 
 
 "Well, Fred!" 
 
 " What are you doing there ? " Fred leaned over the 
 brink to ask. 
 
 " Not reclining on a bed of roses, my boy, but, you 
 know, if 
 
 ' Imperial Cassar, dead and turned to clay, 
 May stop a hole to keep the wind away,' 
 
 why may not the arm of a live Yankee serve an equally 
 useful end with another one of the elements? I am 
 stopping a hole, Fred, in hopes of preventing further 
 damage to this levee before help comes. Sorry I'm not 
 in position to take off my hat to you." 
 
 "You take it pretty coolly." 
 
 " Force of circumstances, my dear boy. Ten min- 
 utes ago I doubt if I could have afforded a jest at my 
 own expense, but I'm pretty well convinced that it is a
 
 IN THE GAP. 187 
 
 craw-fish hole, and, although not relieved, I am not as 
 badly scared as I was. I don't think the levee's going 
 at a rush." 
 
 " Who has gone for help ? I believe you would jest 
 at your coffin." 
 
 " Mrs. Ralston has gone for help. At it, probably 
 (my coffin, I mean), but not in it. You perceive I am 
 categorical." 
 
 " Why didn't you stuff a gunny sack in that hole? " 
 
 " One of my most urgent requests was that every 
 ditch should have sacks left near it. There are none 
 here. It's a mistake of the squire's." 
 
 " Squire Thorn was never known to do any thing 
 right," says Fred, with boyish vehemence. " He is an 
 embodied mistake. But can't I do any thing but stand 
 here and look down at you ? " 
 
 " Not unless you had a sack, and something to fill it 
 with." 
 
 " I've got that very thing. I was running about in 
 the woods gathering a lot of gray moss to send to our 
 Jean at school. I've got a long ' picking ' sack right 
 here." 
 
 "Yes; but how to fill it?" 
 
 "And I've got a trowel, too," says Fred, waving 
 one triumphantly over his head. 
 
 "It's a little like eating soup with a splinter, but it 
 would be a tremendous relief to me." 
 
 Flinging the sack into the ditch as near the major as
 
 1 88 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 possible, Fred retained the open end in his own hand 
 and flung the broad band, by which the cotton-picker 
 swings these long Lowell sacks about his neck in 
 picking time, over a bush, to keep the mouth open, 
 then with frantic energy he shoveled the loose earth 
 from the bank into the bag, already nearly full of moss, 
 with hands and trowel. He soon had it full, and, 
 springing down into the ditch, heedless of briers and 
 water, he rolled it as close as possible to the spot where 
 the major's arm was still doing duty for stopper. 
 
 " Bravo, my young levee-man. But, after all, I find 
 myself in the position of Henry Clay with the billy- 
 goat afraid to hold on, and daren't let go. If I with- 
 draw my arm, and you should fail to get that heavy 
 sack at the right spot simultaneously, we'd be worse 
 off than ever. I'm afraid I couldn't help you much, 
 as my arm is pretty well benumbed." 
 
 "You've got no confidence in me. You think I'm a 
 muff." 
 
 "My dear Fred, I've got all the confidence in the 
 world in your head and heart, but very little in your 
 muscle. Ah ! " At this moment the men Ursula 
 had sent came crashing through the bushes with their 
 spades upon their shoulders. " You are none too soon, 
 boys! Cut some piles quickly, and drive them on 
 both sides me as near as possible. Of course you 
 brought sacks with you ?" 
 
 " Bar now ! "
 
 IN THE GAP. 189 
 
 The men looked blankly at each other. Of course 
 they had not brought them. Forethought is not an 
 attribute of this child-like race. 
 
 " Troof is, Mars Major, Miss 'Sulle done skeert us 
 up so bad 'bout yer, dat we didn' teck time to fotch 
 nuffin' but ourseffs did we, Jeff?" 
 
 " Dat's de livin' troof, boss! " Jeff says, swinging his 
 sharp ax at one blow half-way through a slim cotton- 
 wood sapling. 
 
 " Cut the piles and drive them close together. Mr. 
 Southmead has a sack here. Fill it as full as possible. 
 Be quick. The ooze around my arm grows softer 
 every second. The danger is great, boys." 
 
 With quick, rhythmic strokes the men felled some 
 half-dozen slender saplings, pointed each one sharply 
 at one end, and drove them well down in the bottom of 
 the ditch on both sides the major. Then they lifted 
 the sack to swing it into position. 
 
 " Is it quite full ?" Stirling asked, anxiously. 
 
 They shook its contents into a more compact mass, 
 and added a few spadesful of earth. 
 
 " Now, then, when I say ' ready,' swing it promptly 
 into position just where my arm comes out. Fred, 
 stand back, please, get up on the bank yonder." 
 
 " One ! two ! three ! Ready ! " 
 
 With the activity of his nature he sprang to his feet. 
 With the sluggish deliberation of theirs, they swung 
 the sack into the ooze in the levee. The discrepancy
 
 1 90 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 was fatal. Like a sentient thing enraged at imprison- 
 ment, and fearful of being again baffled in its evil 
 intent, the water spouted through in a stream of 
 ominous dimensions. A sudden fissure on the brown 
 surface of the levee told of the coming catastrophe ; 
 a fatal widening of the crack ; in another second the 
 water had forced a free passage for itself, and came in 
 a narrow stream from base to crown of the levee. But 
 one chance left ! 
 
 "You must build around my body. Drive piles 
 thick and fast. Fling in the loose earth ; sacks and men 
 will be here presently. Work like beavers rather than 
 men ; work for your homes, not mine, boys. We'll 
 win yet." 
 
 With the excitement of battle in voice and mien, Stir- 
 ling Denny sprang into the fast widening fissure, and 
 dropping his arms, held them closely by his sides, to 
 present as solid a line as possible to the encroaching 
 water. 
 
 The two men worked like ten. They were thor- 
 oughly aroused at last. Fred aided their efforts by 
 dragging the piles to the ditch as fast as they cut and 
 sharpened them. No sound was heard but the ringing 
 blows of the axes, the panting of the workers, and an 
 occasional calm command from the man who now stood 
 up to his arm pits in the water. Over it all the heart- 
 less caroling of the birds went on. 
 
 More efficient aid soon arrived. Squire Thorn, fol-
 
 77V THE GAP. 191 
 
 lowed by a strong force, equipped with every thing nec- 
 essary for levee-patching, now appeared. Twenty 
 brawny arms were quickly building a fresh barricade to 
 landward of the major's back, across the ditch. With 
 Fred's sack for a foundation " stay," the loose earth 
 was thrown in between the close-driven piles, arranged 
 like an old-fashioned lye hopper. In half an hour more 
 the same brawny arms drew Stirling from his durance 
 vile, and placed him upon the dry sod, a very sore 
 and thoroughly soaked man, but a hero crowned with 
 success. 
 
 " By George, Denny, you're a plucky fellow, if you 
 are a Yankee ! " Squire Thorn exclaimed, in bungling 
 enthusiasm, as he seized the young man's wet hands 
 in both his own. " I doubt if there is any other man 
 in the county that 'd thought of that road to salvation." 
 
 " It is the old story of the pound of cure where the 
 ounce of prevention would have sufficed," said Denny, 
 coldly, shaking himself after the fashion of a wet New- 
 foundland dog. 
 
 The alarm had spread by this time far and wide, and 
 the major was still seated on a pile of sacks, gathering 
 strength from rest for his homeward ride, when re- 
 enforcements from all the lake country came trampling 
 through the briers. 
 
 Each one had to hear how near destruction they had 
 all come, and how the new man at Rossmere had sprung 
 bodily into the breach and stayed the rushing of waters
 
 1 9 2 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 until the levee had been patched with a " run-around ; " 
 each one had to voice his gratitude and admiration 
 in words of strong and sincere meaning, and each 
 one had to give the squire a little dig for his 
 neglect. 
 
 The day was far gone when Black Prince deposited 
 his master at his own door, stiff and sore of body, but 
 jubilant of spirit.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 FACT AND PREJUDICE. 
 
 " \ FTER all, Ursula, Yankee thrift was at the 
 _/~\ bottom of Major Denny's extraordinary efforts 
 to save the levee. His place would have been entirely 
 ruined by an overflow, and he would have lost a thou- 
 sand bale crop, where your uncle George would have 
 lost only four hundred. I wonder though how many 
 crops it would have taken to pay your uncle for all that 
 Major Denny has suffered for that jump into the 
 ditch." 
 
 Mrs. Southmead was gracious enough to hold this 
 opinion in abeyance until their neighbor had been pro- 
 nounced entirely out of danger from the attack of 
 pneumonia that followed his immersion. 
 
 The temporary stoppage of the sewing-machine Mrs. 
 Ralston was operating had been improved by her aurit 
 to express the above sentiment. 'Sula slowly creased 
 a tuck in the garment under her fingers. She did not 
 turn her head as she said : 
 
 " Gratitude is the shortest lived of all the emotions, 
 and the one most susceptible to the chilling effects of 
 time."
 
 194 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMEKE. 
 
 " Have you your book of ' Beautiful Thoughts ' open 
 in front of you there ? That retort sounds so tremen- 
 dously booky, 'Sula." 
 
 'Sula laughed at the insinuation. 
 
 " No," she said, "nor does one need printed author- 
 ity for finding you very ungrateful and ungracious, 
 auntie, in this matter at least." 
 
 " Ungrateful and ungracious ! Why, I have as good 
 as made the man a present of my husband and my two 
 sons. Mr. Southmead and the boys have almost lived 
 at Rossmere since the day of that wetting. Of course, 
 I appreciate the fact that he saved us from another 
 overflow, but he really has been lionized ad nauseam'' 
 
 " I think in the long run you will receive full compen- 
 sation for your loan of Uncle George and the boys. 
 You know uncle says Carl does the major good and 
 the major does Fred good." 
 
 "Yes, I know he says so, but I was not aware of the 
 fact before that my son stood so much in need of health- 
 ful influence." 
 
 The offended tones of Mrs. Southmead's voice 
 were supplemented by an irritated toss of her hand- 
 some head. 
 
 " I think his moral and mental condition stand in 
 decided need of doctoring," 'Sula says boldly, hitching 
 her chair a little closer to the machine, and carefully 
 adjusting her work under the presser-foot. 
 
 '"Sula!"
 
 FACT AND PREJUDICE. 195 
 
 She faces about in preparation for the controversy 
 she perceives to be inevitable. 
 
 " Now, Aunt Amelia, why not look facts squarely in 
 the face ? Our Fred is the creature of circumstances, 
 and, as such, is very much to be pitied." 
 
 " I do not concede that. He is to be pitied because 
 his father's circumstances are no better ; but I am 
 sure, 'Sula, he makes quite as good an appearance as 
 any of the boys of his class." 
 
 " I do not intend to try to refute that bit of mother- 
 logic, but for Fred's own sake I wish you could be 
 brought to take a broader view of the matter. The 
 men of the South in ante-bellum days had an assured 
 position in the world, and, although frowned upon by 
 one class in the North, they were fawned upon by 
 another ; and they had wealth and leisure which enabled 
 them to cultivate certain social graces that redounded 
 to their attractiveness. Moreover, they mingled 
 with the world on a footing flattering to the pride 
 of the large majority. Now all that is changed, 
 and the youth of the present generation are in a pre- 
 dicament of the worst possible complexion. Divested 
 of the factitious dignity which environed the old slav- 
 ocracy ; minus the revenues drawn from the institution 
 of slavery ; born amid the convulsive throes of a tre- 
 mendous revolution ; reared in an atmosphere thick 
 with the motes and beams of unhealthy traditions and 
 prejudices what can they be expected to know of
 
 1 96 THE NE W MAN AT KOSSMF.RE. 
 
 their own inherent strength, or the inalienable rights 
 and privileges of true manhood ? The Southern boy 
 of the present day must needs have something far 
 beyond the common order of brain to be able to strike 
 a happy mean between the social and political preju- 
 dices which are his by inheritance, and the radical 
 spirit of reckless progression which is abroad in the 
 land, and which appeals strongly to his restless and 
 untrained energies." 
 
 " Then I suppose the inference is, that it is only by 
 the aid of such a well-balanced prodigy as the new man 
 at Rossmere that my son can hope to find that happy 
 mean." 
 
 " He will certainly find it all the sooner from such 
 association, " 'Sula says, giving the wheel of her machine 
 such an emphatic whirl that conversation is rendered 
 practically impossible. 
 
 Mrs. Southmead rocked energetically, in the pertur- 
 bation of her spirits. She was angered to think that 
 no one member of her family could be brought to take 
 exactly the same view of this Yankee major as she en- 
 tertained. George, she declared to herself, was such a 
 big-hearted, generous creature, that it seemed as if he 
 were about to devote his life to the major, in a spirit of 
 apology for ever having been unfriendly toward him ; 
 and Frederic's infatuation was only secondary to his 
 father's. Mrs. Southmead had all a conservative South- 
 ern woman's dislike for a thing without a precedent, or
 
 FACT AND PREJUDICE. 197 
 
 a person without known antecedents. " You know, 
 George," had been one of her stock arguments against 
 opening their arms to their mortal foe, " we have no 
 means of discovering who the man is or what he may 
 have sprung from ;" to which Mr. Southmead would 
 recklessly respond that he didn't care if Denny had 
 never had any father, or mother either. When it was 
 confidently believed that Stirling's magnificent phys- 
 ique was about to succumb to the tremendous strain he 
 had put upon it, she had melted into pure womanly 
 pity, but during his convalescence she had congealed 
 again, and all the more rigorously that Mr. Southmead 
 had constituted himself head-nurse at Rossmere, and 
 was rarely ever at home now. In fact, Mrs. Southmead 
 succeeded in convincing herself that she had a genu- 
 ine grievance against the major, and was inwardly pro- 
 voked at her inability to formulate it convincingly to 
 any body else. But then the man at Rossmere was 
 only one of her grievances. 
 
 The springtime of their high-water excitement had 
 ripened into early summer heat and languor. The 
 crop which had run such narrow risk of total annihila- 
 tion was now covering the land as far as her eye could 
 reach with glossy, shrub-like foliage, the multitude of 
 its delicate, triangular " forms " indicating a heavy yield 
 of cotton. The prospect of a big crop, her husband 
 assured her, was better than it had been any previous 
 year since the war. But Mrs. Southmead was not
 
 198 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 elated. She knew that the very best crop that the 
 place could possibly produce would but diminish by a 
 small fraction the debt which hung over them. She 
 knew that in the fall of the year wagon after wagon 
 would go plodding through -the heavy swamp roads, 
 piled toppling high with bulky bales of cotton, each 
 one of which was an opulent-looking fraud, so far as 
 her individual benefit was concerned. She knew that 
 the merchants in New Orleans only carried her hus- 
 band through, year after year, in hopes of getting 
 back what they had advanced the year before, and that 
 the needs of the family were dealt with in a sort of 
 perplexed and perplexing get-along-as-you-can fashion, 
 harrowing to every faculty. She knew that poor 'Sula 
 was even then degrading herself by making dresses for 
 the colored " ladies " in the quarters, as the only device 
 she could hit upon for making a little ready money ; she 
 wondered vaguely how they would all be clothed after 
 a while, when every thing was worn out and there was no 
 money to buy any more, which of course must happen 
 if they went on in this way ; she grieved to think that 
 Frederic's education was left incomplete, and that Carl's 
 prospects for any at all were so dreadfully slim ; she 
 felt, with Stephen Blackpool, that it was all a muddle. 
 The muddle granted, some one must have made it. 
 Mrs. Southmead traced every woe of her life immedi- 
 ately to the war. Stirling Denny was the representa- 
 tive of that action and the exponent of the ideas that
 
 FACT AND PREJUDICE. 199 
 
 led directly to it. Plainly, it was her duty not to yield 
 to the blandishments of this man. A treaty of amity 
 with him was condoning the crimes of his section ; she 
 really had been weak in not combating more strenu- 
 ously the hold he had gained upon her husband's affec- 
 tions. Failing to discover any easy solution to the 
 muddle, she took refuge in a sort of diffusive asperity, 
 of which 'Sula, as the only culprit close at hand, received 
 the full benefit. 
 
 "Ursula, do you ever oil that machine? It makes 
 more noise than a corn-sheller, and I have a most 
 abominable headache." 
 
 "Why didn't you say so before?" 'Sula rose and 
 closed the machine immediately. "I would have stopped 
 long ago." 
 
 " I didn't suppose you dared stop. I took it for 
 granted you were under bond to finish those dresses by 
 Sunday." 
 
 " I believe I am," says 'Sula, laughing merrily. " Sun- 
 day is Uncle Josh Hick's funeral, and this dress," hold- 
 ing up a brilliant purple alpaca, " is for his widow. 
 Won't she be clad in the royal ? " 
 
 "To my certain knowledge Josh Hicks died and was 
 buried three years ago," Mrs. Southmead says, emphatic- 
 ally. 
 
 " Speaking after the manner of men, he was ; at least 
 he received his fleshly interment so long ago as that, but 
 his manes will presumably be appeased only after the
 
 200 THE NEW MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 ceremonies on Sunday, when his funeral will be 
 preached." 
 
 " Ursula ! This is a God-forsaken life we are leading ! 
 The white people with no regular opportunities for 
 worship, and the blacks desecrating the very name of 
 religion with their barbaric practices." 
 
 " I think that is the very gravest aspect of our lives. 
 But if such matters were slightly regarded before the 
 war, when the building of a church would have been 
 play-work, the support of a minister a trifling tax, and 
 attendance easy enough, what hope is there now? " 
 
 " You may well say ' what hope now ? ' And to think 
 I am the only person in the house who sees any impro- 
 priety in taking the author of all our woes into our 
 bosoms ! " 
 
 "Major Denny the author of all our woes!" 'Sula 
 repeats, with flushed cheeks and well-opened eyes. 
 
 " He is a Yankee ! That is enough for me and 
 ought to be for you." 
 
 "Aunt Amelia," says 'Sula, with grave reproach, "I 
 predict the day when you will recall every one of those 
 words with regret and remorse." 
 
 " Perhaps ! I will notify you when I feel the prelimi- 
 nary pangs of regret and remorse." Mrs. Southmead 
 resumed her crochet with renewed energy, rocking and 
 brooding over the batch of grievances that no one 
 either understood or cared to understand, much less 
 sympathize with, and finally convincing herself that she 
 was an unrecognized martyr.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WIVES, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM. 
 
 THE period of convalescence was sure and rapid 
 with Stirling Denny, and the time soon came 
 when he could no longer claim the friendly services of 
 his neighbors on the score of invalidism. 
 
 " It is worth while being sick once in a while," he 
 said, holding Mr. Southmead's hand in a cordial fare- 
 well clasp, " to discover that one has such true friends. 
 I shall miss your daily visits, and I am loath to give up 
 the boys." 
 
 " Oh ! but, by George, you know we are all so tre- 
 mendously in your debt. We couldn't do too much 
 for you. We'd have been four feet under water but 
 for that plucky jump of yours. You're pretty firm on 
 your pegs, eh ? I'm not half satisfied at leaving you 
 here alone. When is your friend Craycraft coming 
 back to you ? " 
 
 A dark shadow swept suddenly over the major's 
 face. 
 
 " He should be at home now. Squire Thorn reported 
 him as in a helpless condition from a broken arm when 
 I was first taken down, and he has been over to see me
 
 202 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 once in a while only. He certainly must have worn his 
 welcome out with the Thorns by this time." 
 
 " Craycraft seems to be such capital company that 
 he's not apt to do that soon. The squire's infatuation 
 over him is something extraordinary. I should think 
 the young man could afford to spare you a little time 
 now. But you know my Fred is entirely at your dis- 
 posal." 
 
 There seemed a deeper significance in the words than 
 appeared on the surface, or perhaps Stirling Denny, 
 ever on the alert where his brother was concerned, fan- 
 cied there was. Suddenly placing his hands upon stal- 
 wart George Southmead's shoulder, he said, seriously: 
 
 " My illness has made me selfishly oblivious of other 
 matters. Craycraft is my guest, and I must recall him 
 to a sense of what he owes me. Will you be going 
 that way soon ? " 
 
 " I shall be going there to-morrow. The squire and 
 I have a swap of a pair of steers for a mule pending." 
 
 " You will say to Craycraft, then, will you not, that 
 I need his company, particularly just now ? " 
 
 " Would you not prefer to send him a note ? " 
 
 " No. I know him of old. A casual remark, appar- 
 ently emanating from you, might bring him. The for- 
 mality of a note might impress him as a command. 
 Craycraft is petulant in his resentments." 
 
 "As you will. You know the young fellow better 
 than I do. Appearing in the neighborhood as your
 
 WIVES, AND HO IV TO MANAGE THEM. 203 
 
 friend, it's queer what a fancy old Thorn has taken to 
 him." 
 
 Stirling felt more than ever responsible for Man- 
 ton's straight walking. The two men understood each 
 other without any more words. Mr. Southmead's last 
 injunction was that he should not remain out on the 
 gallery, where they parted, after the sun should go 
 down. The major sat where he had left him, dreamily 
 recalling the confused events of the past six weeks, so 
 long a time seemed to have passed since he and Ursula 
 Ralston had looked into each other's hearts for one 
 brief, passionate moment. He hungered for the sound 
 of her sweet voice once more. It would be days yet 
 before he could ride over to Tievina. With conscien- 
 tious intention to keep his promise to Mr. Southmead, 
 he turned his eye toward the crape myrtle in the south- 
 west corner of the yard, that always caught the last 
 gleam of sunshine. He started with surprise. Coming 
 straight toward him from his front gate was one of the 
 women who had occupied no inconsiderable portion of 
 his thoughts for the past hour. The squire's wife. 
 How handsome and self-poised she looked, her easy 
 progress unimpeded by the long riding-habit whose 
 tight, plain cut displayed her beautiful shoulders and 
 bust to the very best advantage. A round felt hat, 
 with a crimson bird-wing for ornament, was pressed 
 rigidly down over her forehead, leaving a mere line of 
 white forehead visible between its brim and the fine,
 
 204 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 straight eyebrows. There was no embarrassment in 
 her manner as she came forward and held out one 
 small, gauntleted hand only an air of quiet determi- 
 nation. 
 
 " I have thought of you very often," she said, " in 
 your long sickness. I am glad to see you so far on the 
 road to recovery." 
 
 Of the two, the major was the more embarrassed. 
 
 "You have not asked me to sit down," she said, with 
 well-invented gayety, lightly helping herself to a seat 
 beside him, "and I know you are consumed with curi- 
 osity to know why I am here. ' To what are you 
 indebted for the honor of this visit ? ' is the way you 
 should word it." 
 
 There was an undercurrent of excitement in her 
 voice, and a flush on her cheeks that made her hand- 
 somer than ever. 
 
 " I confess to being more anxious than curious," said 
 Stirling, with grave frankness. " I am compelled to 
 believe that something very urgent has secured me the 
 honor. You are not unattended ? " There was a ring 
 of reproach in the inquiry. 
 
 " My faithful Jim is with me, out yonder, with the 
 horses." 
 
 " I should have thought " 
 
 She interrupted him almost petulantly : 
 
 " I know. You should have thought that my hus- 
 band would have been a better escort. He and his
 
 WIVES, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM. 205 
 
 friend have gone back on the Mason Hills for a bear 
 hunt. Perhaps, but for their all-day absence, I should 
 not have mustered the courage to put into execution a 
 resolution I formed some days ago." She was silent 
 for a moment, tapping the heavy folds of her habit 
 nervously with her riding-whip. 
 
 "If I can be of any service to you, my dear 
 madam " 
 
 She interrupted him with vehement rapidity : 
 " You can, or, at least, if you can not, no one can. 
 Try not to misjudge me, please. I have pondered 
 over it alone so much that perhaps my ideas of pro- 
 priety are getting all confused. I know I can trust to 
 your honor. I wish you to recall your friend Mr. Cray- 
 craft. His presence is injurious to my husband. I 
 never knew Mr. Thorn to dissipate before. The 
 encouragement of a boon companion who has such 
 boundless influence over him is ruinous. You will 
 wonder why I am not equal to the task of expulsion. 
 I wonder myself. I am a coward who shrinks from dis- 
 cord and contention. I am powerless against my hus- 
 band's expressed opposition in this matter. This was 
 the only device I could hit upon. It was a desperate 
 resource, but it was my only one. Perhaps it has 
 robbed me of your respect. I should be sorry if it has, 
 for I value it very highly. Your friend is robbing me 
 of more the spirit of peace, which is the nearest 
 approximation to happiness some of us ever attain,"
 
 206 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 In a few words of earnest sympathy Stirling assured 
 her of his entire comprehension and sympathy. 
 
 " Had it not been for this unfortunate illness of 
 mine," he said, " you should not have been subjected 
 to this annoyance so long. My illness has made me 
 oblivious of every thing not relating to self." 
 
 Then she rode away, with the. gloom of the short twi- 
 light closing in about her. Through the darkening 
 woods, whose fast-gathering shadows seemed but so 
 many somber reflections of her own gloomy experi- 
 ences, Agnes rode homeward, followed at a respectful 
 distance by Jim Doakes, her most faithful servitor and 
 main dependent. The unfamiliar aspect of a blackened 
 tree-stump caused her horse to start violently and break 
 her saddle-girth. The delay caused by repairing it 
 made her still later reaching home. When she came 
 in sight of the house and caught the glimmer of lamps 
 through the windows, she inwardly confessed to a 
 decided sensation of nervousness. While conscious 
 that she had done nothing reprehensible if it could be 
 explained, the impossibility of explaining it made her 
 uncomfortable and irritable. 
 
 " They have come back, Jim?" she said, speaking 
 with an assumption of indifference she was very far 
 from feeling. 
 
 " Wai ! wal ! yas'm "-Jim stuttered worst when most 
 nervous " an I reck reck reck'n old boss done work 
 r done work work ed hisseff up inter inter a a
 
 WIVES, A.VD HOW TO MANAGE THEM. 207 
 
 a mouty puck puck er 'bout you. I hope he fotch 
 home fotch home plenty b'ar meat. He's mouty 
 ap' ap' t' be ugly when he 's dis'p'inted dis'p'inted 
 'bout huntin'." 
 
 " I had no idea it was such a long ride to Rossmere," 
 Agnes said, involuntarily entering upon her defense. 
 
 " It's a good bit bit uv a ride, Miss Aggy, en you 
 start start startid late," Jim answers in gravely 
 apprehensive tones, which do not tend to reassure her. 
 
 When she reached the hall door, having hastily 
 thrown her bridle to Jim at the gate, she discovered by 
 the familiar odor of fried pork which greeted her nos- 
 trils that supper was on the table, and that bear meat 
 had not been added to their homely bill of fare. 
 Throwing her hat and gloves upon the hall table, she 
 did not linger to divest herself of her habit simply 
 passed her hands over her tumbled hair as she moved 
 toward the dining-room. 
 
 Her husband and Manton were still sitting at the 
 table, although it was evident from the emptied cups 
 and the general disorder of the dishes that their appe- 
 tites had been appeased, if not satisfied. 
 
 "We are waitin' for you, madam," was the squire's 
 ominous greeting, delivered in his harshest voice. 
 
 " I am sorry," she began, with the polite intention 
 of apologizing, when her husband raised his eyes to 
 her face with a look of such savage displeasure that 
 the words froze upon her lips, and she seated herself
 
 208 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 dumbly behind the tea tray, in a state of mental per- 
 turbation that excited contempt in her breast for her- 
 self. 
 
 Manton had risen courteously on her entrance, and, 
 after bestowing one stare of undisguised admiration 
 upon her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, directed a 
 glance of peculiar significance toward her plate behind 
 the tea things. On the starched surface of her napkin 
 he had traced these words : 
 
 " He is already aware of the fact that you have been 
 to Rossmere. Do not stoop to any subterfuge." 
 
 With one defiant glance into the handsome eyes bent 
 upon her in evident anxiety, she shook the napkin 
 from its folds, spread it across her lap, and asked, as 
 she proceeded to pour herself out a cup of tea : 
 
 " Is there absolutely nothing left for me to do for 
 you two gentlemen?" Her voice was unnaturally 
 cheerful. Perhaps it was that exasperated the squire 
 beyond the bonds of propriety. 
 
 " I'll be hanged, Mrs. Thorn, if you don't carry it 
 off with a pretty high hand ! What do you suppose I 
 am made of, madam, that I will submit to such goin's 
 on?" 
 
 Agnes looked into the old man's bloodshot eyes 
 with an unwavering glance, although she was conscious 
 of flinching, as one would from a blow, at the sound 
 of his loud, coarse voice. 
 
 " If you find any thing to object to in my conduct.
 
 WIVES, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM. 209 
 
 Mr. Thorn, we will reserve the discussion of my indis- 
 cretion for a more private occasion," she said, icily. 
 
 " Find any thing to object to? Your indiscretion ! 
 By Julius Caesar, Craycraft, what do you think of that 
 for coolness? " 
 
 Mrs. Thorn rose, and pushing her untasted tea from 
 her, drew herself up in outraged dignity. 
 
 " Mr. Craycraft is not at liberty to express any opin- 
 ion concerning my actions; at least, not in my pres- 
 ence." Then she went away from them in swift 
 anger. 
 
 Manton leaned forward and laid his hand command- 
 ingly on the old man's arm. 
 
 " And you, sir," he said, in a voice quivering with 
 suppressed passion, " are not at liberty to insult your 
 wife in my presence. You are in no condition to-night 
 to sit in judgment upon anyone's shortcomings, sup- 
 posed or real. I advise an immediate retirement to 
 your bed." 
 
 This advice partook so largely of the nature of a 
 command that the old man, over whom Manton had 
 gained such boundless influence, rose with the acquies- 
 scent meekness of a coward in presence of his master, 
 and laughed in the silly fashion of a half-tipsy man. 
 
 " You're right, Craycraft. You're always right, by 
 George, you are, Craycraft. She's a high-stepper, now 
 though, ain't she, Craycraft?" He supported himself 
 by a tight grip on the back of his chair as he waited
 
 2 1 o THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 for an answer. " Now, ain't she, though, Craycraft ? 
 Don't you think she's got a spice of the 
 
 " I think you will make me forget that you are an 
 old man and the master of this house, if you say 
 another word," Manton thundered, with such efficacy 
 that the squire turned himself -staggeringly about and 
 shuffled off in the direction of his own room, turning 
 upon the threshold of the dining-room to say, with 
 drunken iteration : 
 
 "Now, ain't she a high stepper, though, Craycraft? 
 Don't you think she's got a spice of the devil in her ? " 
 
 Manton turned disgustedly toward the front gallery, 
 where, lighting his cigar, he began to pace restlessly to 
 and fro. That portion of the house was in total dark- 
 ness. The lamps were only alight in the dining-room 
 and the squire's bedroom. In his second round he 
 heard a suppressed sigh in the direction of the iron 
 lounge. 
 
 " Are you there, Agnes ? " he stopped suddenly to 
 ask. 
 
 " I am here. Perhaps it accords with your ideas of 
 chivalry to add one more to the insults already heaped 
 upon me." Her voice came out of the darkness to 
 him laden with disdain. 
 
 "You shall not pretend to misunderstand me any 
 longer," he said, in a low, passionate voice, moving so 
 close to her that she could have touched the gleaming 
 spark of his cigar had she so willed it. You know
 
 WIVES, AND HO IV TO MANAGE THEM. 211 
 
 that I neither wish to insult you nor will allow anyone 
 else to do it. You would have been my wife to-day 
 if it had not been for that scrape of Leslie's, for which 
 you sold yourself to that coarse old man in yonder." 
 
 " That coarse old man, as you are pleased to call your 
 host, is my husband ; you are not privileged to criti- 
 cise him under this roof." 
 
 " This is folly. Worse than folly. In all the days 
 and weeks of my intimacy here, have I once trans- 
 gressed the proprieties ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I have been happier for being near you. It is not 
 wicked to say so. I have been happier and better and 
 stronger. You think I exert an evil influence over 
 your husband. There you are wrong again. The 
 kind-hearted, rather brusque wooer who asked you to 
 marry him on condition of his looking after Leslie was 
 Squire Thorn abroad. Squire Thorn at home is " 
 
 " Hush. Not one word more. If there is nothing 
 within you to deter you from outraging every rule of 
 propriety, every law of hospitality, spare a defenseless 
 woman the knowledge of it. As matters now stand, 
 there is but one honorable course left you. I leave 
 you to discover it." 
 
 The hand that he stretched out in passionate 
 entreaty to stay her quick flight was unavailing. With 
 the last words she rose from the couch and swept 
 past him into the house; past him and into the
 
 2 1 2 THE NE IV MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 room where her husband lay in the heavy, motionless 
 slumber of a drunken man. 
 
 She took the lamp from the mantle shelf and held it 
 aloft over him. He breathed in long-drawn, audible 
 respirations. His wrinkled and knotted hands were 
 lying on the white spread, doubled up into pugilistic 
 fists. His short gray hair bristled around his furrowed 
 forehead with irate stiffness, giving a savagely uncom- 
 promising look to the hard lines of his face, even in 
 slumber. The lips that were firmly compressed under 
 the grizzled, square-cut mustache were lips given to 
 harsh words and cruel injustice. But Agnes Thorn 
 was made of the stuff the olden Roman matrons were 
 made of. 
 
 She gazed long and intently down upon the face of 
 the man to whom she had given herself, perhaps from 
 a wrong motive, but not lightly. She almost wished 
 he might wake up then, so that she could say to him 
 how truly and loyally she wanted to be a helpmate to 
 him, but that he must help her too. She prayed 
 for the strength to be true to her own high ideal of wife- 
 hood, lacking this help from him. She prayed that 
 the way to mutual respect and liking might grow 
 plainer rather than more difficult to follow. She 
 prayed for ability always to meet his infirmities of 
 temper in the spirit that turneth away wrath. The 
 light from the lamp disturbed the sleeper. He turned 
 and muttered audibly :
 
 WIVES, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM. 213 
 
 " You're right, Craycraft, she's got a spice of 
 devil in her." 
 
 Agnes started violently. Could it be possible that 
 these muttered words gave a clew to the manner in 
 which her name was handled by these two men? Was 
 Manton Craycraft really trying to poison the old man's 
 mind against her ? Such a degree of baseness was hard 
 to comprehend. She replaced the lamp on the table, 
 and seated herself by a window. She had known, 
 when giving that desperate " yes " to the squire, that 
 the marriage bore very much the aspect of an expe- 
 dient on her part. Hers was a healthy organization, 
 however, and she had never voluntarily wasted one 
 hour in sickly retrospection. She honestly meant to 
 be all to her husband that was conveyed in the words, 
 " honor and obey." It was only after her home-coming 
 that she had discovered how hard a task she had 
 imposed upon herself. 
 
 " Whenever he makes it too hard for me," she mur- 
 mured, wrestling with the sorrow and groping help- 
 lessly for a remedy, " I will bear in mind that the first 
 wrong step lies at my door." 
 
 Squire Thorn awoke the next morning with a sense 
 of failure strong upon him. Imbued with all the self- 
 importance of a commonplace egotist, he could forgive 
 any thing sooner than an occurrence calculated to les- 
 sen his importance in the eyes of others. The impres- 
 sion that he had captivated the friend of the new man
 
 214 'E N E W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 at Rossmere, even to the extent of making him abandon 
 Rossmere for Thorndale, had been a source of immense 
 satisfaction to the narrow-souled old man. In a burst of 
 enthusiasm over his new friend he had been heard to de- 
 clare that he'd never had a son ; he only wished he might 
 have had one, in every respect like Manton Craycraft. 
 
 With the boastful swagger that characterized all his 
 narrations concerning himself, he had given Manton to 
 understand that the killing of a bear, when he was one of 
 the party, was never a matter of peradventure. But the 
 bear had seen fit to give practical denial of the squire's in- 
 fallibility ; and he had lost prestige as a hunter in the 
 eyes of a novice whom he ardently desired to impress. 
 Then, in the long homeward ride, partly through the 
 woods on horseback and partly by skiff from the other 
 side of the lake, the squire had drifted into one of his fav- 
 orite conversational topics "wives, and how to manage 
 them," he having, ostensibly, undertaken to prepare 
 Manton for the inevitable struggle for mastery when 
 his own hour should come. It was positively a hobby 
 with him, and, returning from the bear hunt empty- 
 handed, he was just in the mind to mount it and ride 
 recklessly. 
 
 " I tell you, my boy," he had said, in conclusion, as 
 they left the skiff and walked toward the unlighted 
 house, " if you ever want to live in peace as a married 
 man, give 'em [wives understood] to understand at the 
 beginning that you've got the whip hand of 'em.
 
 WIVES, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM. 215 
 
 Don't stand no foolishness. Don't stand no gadding. 
 Keep 'em busy if you want any peace in your home or 
 prosperity in 'your business. An idle woman is a first- 
 class noosance." 
 
 Immediately following this eloquent peroration, the 
 knowledge that Mrs. Thorn was not at home, although 
 the sun had long since set, came with something of a 
 shock, giving another practical, denial of his infallibility, 
 and the squire's soreness thereat was immense. Taking 
 refuge in the coward's unfailing resource bluster the 
 defeated bear-hunter and wife-tamer endeavored to 
 patch up his tattered reputation by the explosiveness 
 of his wrath. Whatever else Manton thought, he 
 should not think he was to be defied with impunity ; 
 which third effort of the impressionist resulted in his 
 being virtually ordered to bed in his own house by his 
 unimpressed disciple. 
 
 Small wonder, then, that he awoke the next morning 
 with a sense of failure strong upon him. When he did 
 finally make his appearance, it was to find his wife sit- 
 ting in the hall placidly at work. She looked cool, 
 dainty, and quietly self-possessed. She was thoroughly 
 in earnest in her desire to give him a full and satis- 
 factory account of the ride and the visit that had occa- 
 sioned him so much unreasoning wrath. She took a 
 note from the stand by her side. It was addressed to 
 her husband. She had found it on the hall table, 
 where Manton Craycraft had left it.
 
 2 1 6 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Agnes rose as her husband closed the door of their 
 room rather noisily behind him, and walked toward 
 him with the note in one hand ; she extended the other 
 for a morning greeting. 
 
 " I angered you last night," she began, with gentle 
 dignity, "for which I am very sorry ; but I think I can 
 explain every thing to you satisfactorily, and will, after 
 you have read this note from your friend. Perhaps " 
 
 " Note from my friend. Has Craycraft left? Then, 
 by George, madam, you're at the bottom of it all. 
 You've treated him worse than any nigger on the place, 
 just because you thought I liked him. I suppose you 
 took occasion of my goin' to bed early last night to 
 insult him out of my house. Yes, madam, my house. 
 Every stick of timber in it owned and paid for by my 
 money. And every blasted thing in it mine. And if 
 I'm not at liberty to say who shall come and who shall 
 go in it, as long as my head is warm, then the sooner I 
 clear out the better." 
 
 He had snatched the note from her left hand with- 
 out noticing the right one held out in token of a desire 
 for peace to be restored. He had grasped at a shadow, 
 and thrown away forever a most precious substance. 
 In that moment he lost his last opportunity to bind 
 his wife to him in closer bonds than those of simple 
 duty. 
 
 A weight had seemed lifted .from her heart when she 
 had found her home purged of Manton Craycraft's
 
 WIVES, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM. 21J 
 
 presence. It settled down again with leaden sudden- 
 ness at sight of that anger-inflamed face, and at sound 
 of words so cruelly, brutally unjust that she flinched as 
 under a lash. 
 
 Whenever Squire Thorn was seen stumping through 
 his field afoot, with an ax over his shoulder, slaying 
 with wrathful precision every intrusive shrub that had 
 sprung spontaneously in his cotton or corn fields, 
 laying low the budding hopes of many a tiny oak and 
 infantile pecan, it was understood to mean that some- 
 thing had gone dreadfully wrong with him, socially, 
 politically, or financially, this wholesale slaughter of 
 unoffending shrubs being a sort of safety-valve with 
 him. 
 
 "An* a Gawd's blessin' it is, folks, dat he takes it 
 out on dem growin' things, 'stead of critters wid blood 
 in dey veins," Aunt. Lucy had often been heard to 
 declare, in a spirit of thankfulness. 
 
 On the day when Manton Craycraft had penned his 
 short note telling the squire that his " conscience smote 
 him for his long neglect of his friend Denny," the 
 squire's ax did great execution, and his fields were re- 
 lieved of a quantity of unsightly shrubs. His sense 
 of failure did not follow upon the swinging blows of 
 his sharp-edged ax. 
 
 But the spirit of conciliation had fled forever from 
 his home.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 
 
 ONE Saturday evening just about this time, Mr. 
 Southmead created a flutter at the Tievina tea- 
 table by informing the family there would " be church " 
 in the village the following morning. 
 
 The village was the county-seat, situated on the 
 other side of the lake from Tievina, at a distance of 
 three or four miles. As there was no other assemblage 
 of houses, large or small, within a circumference of 
 twenty miles on its own side of the water, it needed no 
 more accurate designation than " the Village." During 
 court term it teemed with the life and activity incident 
 upon such occasions, but its normal condition was that 
 of semi-stagnation. 
 
 The flutter of pleasurable excitement which Mr. 
 Southmead s news threw the family into is not easily 
 explainable to those to whom divine service is an inte- 
 gral part of the Lord's day. 
 
 "Can we all go?" Carl asked in childish eagerness, 
 turning a pair of anxious eyes from his father's read- 
 ily consenting smile to where his mother sat behind 
 the tea things.
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 2ig 
 
 " What say, mother? " 
 
 Mr. Southmead was never known to issue a mandate 
 or utter a denial at first-hand. His universal tendency 
 was toward doing what every body, from Carl up, would 
 best like to have him do, but, doubting the wisdom of 
 this wholesale acquiescence, he shirked responsibility 
 by leaving all momentous decisions to his wife. Mrs. 
 Southmead proved propitious on this occasion. 
 
 " I should think it could be managed by taking the 
 blue wagon and a pair of good stout mules," she an- 
 swered. " The child is growing up in such heathenish 
 ignorance that he absolutely mistook the picture of a 
 church-steeple the other day for a pigeon-house." 
 
 "Shocking!" 
 
 Mr. Southmead rolled his eyes solemnly in the direc- 
 tion- of the curly-headed little heathen. Ignoring her 
 husband's levity, Mrs. Southmead continued : " I sup- 
 pose, 'Sula, you are not above going to church in a 
 plantation wagon. It is not very stylish, but I have 
 long since ceased to hope for any thing beyond the 
 bare necessities of life. Yes, we will all go." 
 
 Nine o'clock on the following morning, therefore, a 
 morning that was soon to scorch its way into the noon- 
 day heat of a July Sabbath, found the Tievina family 
 seated on splint-bottomed chairs in a springless wagon, 
 bumping their way over the dusty highway to a point 
 opposite the village, where they would embark in the 
 ferry skiff for their final destination.
 
 220 THE NE VV MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 The rusty-coated, harness-scarred mules shuffled 
 lazily along, sending up clouds of dust in placid indif- 
 ference to their destination or the comfort of their 
 palpitating cargo. An irritated flapping of their long 
 ears, accompanied by a defiant switching of their 
 stumpy tails, was the only response vouchsafed by 
 them to Mr. Southmead's decidedly amateurish " Git 
 up, mules! " 
 
 Even when invested with the charm of novelty, the 
 road from Tievina to the village possessed nothing to 
 arrest the eye, and to those who knew every foot of 
 the dusty roadway, every rod of the grass-grown levee, 
 every clump of dust-laden Jamestown weed and rankly 
 intrusive wild indigo, there was nothing to beguile the 
 absolute tedium of the ride but an occasional demand 
 for friendly greetings by a group of colored " ladies and 
 gentlemen," gorgeous in Sunday apparel and redolent of 
 musk, mounted, generally, two on one horse, trotting 
 by to " meetin'." 
 
 Viewed from the opposite side of the lake on a bright 
 morning, with the sun shining full upon it with kindly 
 effect, with the sparkling waters of the lake lapping its 
 shores close to the garden fences, the village was a 
 pretty enough object, but a closer approach dispelled 
 every pleasing illusion. 
 
 Approaching from the north, the village was a failure. 
 A row of straggling negro cabins, belonging to the 
 plantation out of which the little hamlet was scooped,
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 221 
 
 offered thriftlessness and slovenliness as first impres- 
 sions. As a matter of course, these cabins were tumble- 
 down, windowless, stepless, and dirty, with the usual 
 environment of old shoes, empty and battered tin cans, 
 neckless whisky flasks, coon-skins stretched against 
 the outer walls in token of the shot-gun within ; rows 
 of empty pickle pork barrels, with slanting planks for 
 gutters, studding the rickety galleries as makeshift cis- 
 terns, and other such " properties." A small, unpainted 
 wooden edifice, with a canvas sign, flapping loose at 
 one corner, pointed out the essential groggery ; but as 
 the loosened corner concealed the letter S that pro- 
 claimed the "Saloon," the patent reading was a-loon, 
 which sounded very much like grim sarcasm on its fre- 
 quenters. The inevitable blacksmith-shop occupied a 
 prominent position on the lake front. Its big black 
 doors were closed this bright Sunday, and the horse- 
 rack was tenantless. There was the one public " stop- 
 ping place " a few steps beyond, pretentiously called 
 the tavern. It was kept by a meek little widow who 
 walked through life burdened with the funereal appel- 
 lation of Koffin, and with a crushing sense of responsi- 
 bility touching other people's digestive organs. One 
 languishing Gentile store devoted to " general mer- 
 chandise," and two prosperous Jew shops of like mis- 
 cellaneous tendencies, comprised the commercial circle 
 of the village. A few residences, laying no claim to 
 distinction of any sort, were scattered about the con-
 
 222 THE NE W MA N A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 fines of the little town, affording shelter and a modicum 
 of comfort to such citizens as an overruling Providence 
 or unexplainable individual choice had doomed to 
 spend their lives in social ostracism and mental stag- 
 nation. The one redeeming feature of the village was 
 the brick court-house toward which all eyes were turned 
 this Sunday morning. The village boasted of no church 
 proper. It is hard to conceive of a thing for which it 
 had greater need or less desire. How to have a church 
 without putting the entire community under bonds to 
 keep the peace was a problem yet unsolved. So few 
 were the creedsmen and so many the creeds that no 
 two or three could possibly be gathered together in the 
 spirit of unity on this subject. Hence, on such rare 
 occasions as the present, when any expounder of the 
 law and the prophets found it convenient to throw 
 crumbs of spiritual sustenance to these starvelings, the 
 court-house furnished ample accommodation. 
 
 " They do say," said Mr. Southmead, pausing on top 
 of the bank, after landing his cargo of would-be wor- 
 shipers, to give a pull down to the vest his corpulency 
 rendered rather refractory, " that one of these parsons 
 is uncommonly eloquent. Something clear out of the 
 ordinary run sort of Cotton Matherish and Spurgeon- 
 istic, you know." 
 
 " Two of them ! " Mrs. Southmead repeats, dis- 
 mayed. 
 
 " I am afraid, Mrs. S., you don't hunger and thirst
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 223 
 
 after righteousness," said her husband, gallantly offer- 
 ing his arm to assist her up the steep steps to the court- 
 house. 
 
 " I was just thinking of those horrid chairs in the 
 court-house yoked together, to deprive one of the poor 
 satisfaction of hitching up a little ! Stiff-backed hor- 
 rors ! I suspect we will all hunger, and thirst too, 
 before both of those men get through." 
 
 " Likely ! They get a chance at us so seldom that 
 they do pound us pretty vigorously. Here, Carl, you 
 rogue, I want you to learn the difference between a 
 church and a pigeon-house to-day; do you hear, sir?" 
 
 " Cozzy's learnt me already," says Carl, in ungram- 
 matical boastfulness, clinging to 'Sula's hand and leap- 
 ing in an ecstasy of enjoyment at seeing something 
 which was not Tievina. 
 
 " The mutability of all things here below receives 
 practical refutation within these musty precincts," says 
 Mr. Southmead, comfortably locating his crowd on the 
 yoked chairs. " To my certain knowledge that is the 
 same rust on that o.ld stove, the same cigar stumps and 
 ancient pindar-hulls ornament its sand-box that were 
 there before the war. The very flies walking on those 
 opaque window-sashes have a reminiscent look about 
 them." 
 
 Most undoubtedly the same people were scattered 
 on the yoked chairs that were always on hand at these 
 spasmodic services. Old Judge Pounder, in the front
 
 2 24 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 row of chairs, whose austere dignity and grizzled over- 
 hanging brows filled Carl's small soul with such abject 
 terror, held his fine head with such a sternly judicial 
 erectness that it was hard to imagine even the most elo- 
 quent of parsons persuading him to the humility of 
 genuflexion, more especially upon the very spot where 
 he was wont to fulminate the thunder of his own wrath 
 over the heads of admiring counsel and quaking crimi- 
 nals. Little Mrs. Koffin was there in the alpaca-clad 
 body, but her spirit was in the kitchen she had deserted 
 for this soul refreshment, and it was only half-hearted 
 devotion she could render for thinking of the wrath to 
 come if the boarders' dinner should suffer for her 
 church-going ; Mrs. Paine, the tailoress, with her sandy- 
 haired boy by her side, her one hope and pride who 
 knew but that some of these days he might not blossom 
 out into a parson himself? She meant to give him 
 every chance for it, anyhow. The Tievina crowd filled 
 one lot of chairs respectably, and Lawyer Harris's 
 family filled another with equal dignity and gentility. 
 After a skip of three blank rows came Stirling Denny 
 and Manton Craycraft, one on either end of a bench, 
 as if they were trying to impose a fiction of fullness 
 upon the casual observer. A smattering of lads and 
 children supplemented this sparse showing for a con- 
 gregation. There was no one else to come. The rest 
 of the white settlers were either too far away or were 
 hardened into indifference which the most eloquent
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 225 
 
 divine could not pierce. The flies buzzed audibly on 
 the opaque window-sash. The restless rustling of the 
 cottonwood trees in the court-house yard suggested a 
 coolness not felt. The sound of oars from the ferry 
 skiff smote upon the stillness, where the few worshipers 
 sat mute, expectant, and uncomfortable. Two heads, 
 or rather two sections of two heads, had been long 
 visible to the first comers from behind the cushioned 
 ledge of the judge's stand. Carl inquired of "Sula, in 
 a hissing whisper, " who them heads belonged to," at 
 which a decorous smile stole its languid way from face 
 to face. The heads were respectively a light red and 
 a dark brown. Presently, without other signs of ani- 
 mation than a preparatory cough and a visible occulta- 
 tion between the red and the brown heads, there arose 
 from the invisible throats of the invisible preachers the 
 first lines of " All my doubts I give to Jesus," and so 
 it went floating in nasal melody over the heads of the 
 congregation; then uprose from the seat behind the 
 judge's stand, like two sober-minded Jacks-in-the-box, 
 the men belonging to the heads. 
 
 The song ended, prayer followed, and while every 
 head was bent, there stole into the room and noise- 
 lessly seated herself a lonely figure the squire's wife, 
 unattended. A slight air of surprise pervaded more 
 than one pair of eyes when this addition was discov- 
 ered. No one from Thorndale had ever been seen at 
 " church." Serene dignity sat enthroned on the placid
 
 226 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 brow of the woman, who was unconscious of her own 
 isolation. 
 
 She had come there to-day in hopes of gathering 
 some crumbs fron the Master's table. One glance at 
 these self- constituted stewards of His, satisfied her that 
 they had no comfort to give her. Of similar height 
 and like meager build, the one stood revealed in all the 
 monotony of universal sandiness from the crown of his 
 close-cropped head to the pointed tip of his thin 
 goatee. The other offered an equally exhaustive ex- 
 hibit of dull browns. If genius burned in either one of 
 those narrow-browed heads, the flames did not escape 
 through either pair of lack-luster eyes. But as there 
 is one glory of the moon and another glory of the 
 stars, so is there one gift of the mind and another of 
 the lip, and still another of the muscles. As soon as 
 he of the sandy hue delivered his text with a fierce 
 energy of eye, tongue, and fist, pounding the dust out 
 of the judge's reading-desk cushion with a regular house- 
 cleaning frenzy, Agnes discovered how vain her pil- 
 grimage in search of comfort was destined to prove, 
 and sat through the long, meaningless harangue listless 
 and self-absorbed. It was with an actual start that she 
 discovered the congregation in motion for departure. 
 She stood irresolute a moment. Her inclination was 
 to advance toward the Tievina people and give them 
 cordial greeting. She had seen none of them since 
 that morning when 'Sula had rushed in upon her and
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 227 
 
 sunk hysterically upon her neck. Such lapses of inter- 
 course were the rule of the neighborhood, and had no 
 special meaning. But Mrs. Harris, the lawyer's wife, 
 had rushed up to insist that the Tievina people must 
 not think of going home in that hot sun. They were 
 all to go home to dinner with her. An instinct of shy- 
 ness kept Mrs. Thorn aloof from the little group. 
 Surely 'Sula would come to her. Mrs. Harris had never 
 called upon the squire's wife. She lifted her eyes to 
 Mrs. Thorn's pale, passionless face with some curi- 
 osity, then gave her a little stab : " They say she is 
 very fond of gentlemen's society. I hear that Mr. 
 Craycraft lives at Thorndale, almost. Come." 
 
 The three women moved toward the one. Mrs. 
 Harris's eyeglass was raised scrutinizingly. Mrs. 
 Southmead's greeting was simply polite. 'Sula stood 
 still, to offer her the only woman's hand she had clasped 
 in a month. 
 
 " I wish you were not going home in that hot sun," 
 she said, softly, but meaning Mrs. Harris to catch the 
 words and act upon them. " I am afraid you have 
 hardly been compensated for coming." 
 
 Agnes held the little gloved hand with hysterical 
 tenacity. She felt the tears must come if she spoke or 
 moved. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Ralston ! " Mrs. Harris looked back 
 over her shoulder to call. 'Sula gave one more little 
 squeeze, and moved on to join her crowd.
 
 228 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Mrs. Thorn walked forward alone, past the little 
 group of men collected on the gallery, who stood with 
 hats held respectfully aloft in the presence of the 
 women, down the long stairs unattended, then with 
 quickening steps across the short intervening space to 
 where Jim Doakes lay sleeping the waiting hours away 
 in the skiff that had brought her from Thorndale. 
 
 " I am going to beg a lift across to Thorndale, Mrs. 
 Thorn, and will try to make my presence acceptable 
 by using this big umbrella." 
 
 The voice was so like Manton's that she turned with 
 withering intent ; instead, Stirling Denny's fine, frank 
 eyes were smiling down upon her. 
 
 She felt effusively grateful to him for being himself 
 rather than the other one. She would have been more 
 so if she had known this sudden move on the major's 
 part was the only device he could hit upon to thwart 
 Manton's declared intention of doing the same thing. 
 
 She placed her hand in his, to be assisted into the 
 rocking skiff. He followed, and Jim, taking the oars, 
 soon put the water between them and the shore. 
 
 It was but a short walk from the court-house to the 
 Harrises. The Southmeads and the Harrises were 
 very dear friends whenever chance threw them 
 together. Mrs. Southmead and her hostess had 
 "oceans to tell each other." 'Sula laid off her bonnet, 
 and walked out on the ivy-covered gallery, to see the 
 master of the house, who had not been at church,
 
 GOING to CHURCH. tzg 
 
 She found him standing, with his field-glasses pointed 
 toward the lake, gazing through them so intently he did 
 not notice her approach, " What is the object of 
 interest? " she asked, at his elbow ( 
 
 " Ah ! you there, bright eyes ! I was trying to make 
 out the parties in that skiff yonder. One looks like a 
 lady. Surely wife would never have allowed a lady to 
 go home in this hot sun across that water. It looks as 
 if it might be old Thorn's handsome wife." 
 
 'Sula took the glasses, but returned them quickly. 
 " It is Mrs. Thorn. The other one," she said, " is 
 Major Denny. He is protecting her from the sun with 
 his umbrella. Her ride home will not be so very 
 uncomfortable." 
 
 Then she hoped she hadn't sounded unamiable. She 
 wished she could say to herself that she didn't feel so 
 either.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MISCHIEF- MONGERS. 
 
 THE lower story of this court-house, which has been 
 described with unnecessary precision, was divided 
 into various offices belonging to the different county 
 officials ; dingy, comfortless apartments, all of them 
 duplicating on a small scale the untidiness of the 
 court room above. 
 
 While the cracked melodeon overhead was wheezily 
 rendering " Nearer, My God, to Thee," at the close of 
 the long sermon by the sandy man, two men sat in the 
 office just below it in earliest conference. " Recorder's 
 Office " was painted in black letters on the dirty white 
 door. 
 
 One of these men was large and florid, with a profu- 
 sion of dead red hair covering a well-shaped head. 
 His deep blue eyes, set under red-brown, bushy brows, 
 were keenly intelligent, but sinister in expression. 
 He was a man of education, and possessed of an easy 
 assurance of manner about him that enabled him to 
 perform the duties of the recorder's office with stolid 
 indifference to the fact that he was a social outcast. 
 The men of the community accorded him the respect
 
 MISCHIEF-MONGERS. 2 3 1 
 
 due his official position ; the women ignored his exist- 
 ence absolutely and consistently. He was a carpet- 
 bagger of the most obnoxious stripe. He had come 
 from no one knew whither, and had lifted himself into 
 a fat office by ways that were dark and devious. He 
 was called Judge Upps ; but no "one knew the source 
 of his official title. He was bold, self-sufficient, and 
 shrewd. The other man was small, pallid, and pinched, 
 with cowardly eyes that never rested longer than one 
 furtive second upon any object, but seemed perpetu- 
 ally on sentinel duty, ready to warn their owner of 
 danger. He walked with his head bowed and his 
 knees apparently always on the point of crooking 
 their pregnant hinges in apology for some sin 
 of omission or commission. His hands and feet, 
 hugely disproportioned to the rest of his meager 
 body, partook of the general air of apology that per- 
 vaded the whole man ; his hands, as Hood has it, per- 
 petually washing themselves " with invisible soap in 
 imperceptible water;" his feet taking short, cautious 
 steps, as one accustomed to guard against pitfalls. In 
 straight, lank masses his dingy sandy hair fell about a 
 forehead high and narrow, beneath which his lack-luster 
 eyes were set so closely together that, but for the 
 friendly interposition of a high-bridged nose, they might 
 easily have passed for one elongated eye. He too was 
 a carpet-bagger, from no one knew whither ; he too had 
 lifted himself into a fat office at a time when the fat
 
 232 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 offices were the more easily procurable through the 
 suicidal policy of the native whites that held them aloof 
 from local politics in sulky dignity. His name was 
 Gays ; but, beyond a general knowledge of the fact 
 that he was the county clerk, in which capacity a cer- 
 tain amount of communication with him was unavoid- 
 able, he too was a social outcast, endured by the men 
 and ignored by the women. Perhaps that hollow- 
 hearted policy which enables one to bestow a certain 
 amount of affability along with enforced endurance 
 might have been beneficial to the people of the locality 
 upon which these unscrupulous interlopers had fastened 
 like barnacles. But, in the early days succeeding the first 
 bitterness of defeat, the wisdom of smiling upon a vil- 
 lain and winking at his villainy had not been indorsed 
 by the chafed but high principled southerners. Hence it 
 came about that while Judge Upps and Mr. Gays were 
 reaping golden harvests from the troubled condition of 
 affairs that bred endless litigation, they were wounded 
 in their tenderest sensibilities self-love and vanity 
 by the haughty bearing of the men with whom they 
 came in contact. 
 
 Strangers to each other when they had first drifted 
 to the county, these two men had been linked together 
 by a bond of common hatred, and formed a sort of 
 alliance, offensive and defensive. 
 
 On the morning in question it would have been the 
 preference of each of these men to attend the services
 
 MISCHIEF-MONGERS. 233 
 
 upstairs, for they came of a people much given to 
 religious observance, and really missed what they 
 regarded as Christian privileges. But it had become 
 so well-established a custom for them to absent them- 
 selves from any gathering where the wives of the plant- 
 ers appeared that they remained away. They never 
 discussed the fact of their ostracism ; but each heart 
 knew its own bitterness. They never discussed any 
 plan of revenging themselves upon these haughty 
 natives. Yet both men felt morally sure that, should 
 any opportunity offer by which some of the unspoken 
 curses they had incurred could be sent home to roost, 
 they would find each in the other a willing and able 
 coadjutor. 
 
 Hence it was that on this Sunday, while the thunders 
 of the sandy-hued expounder in the upper story came 
 to them in distant mutterings, and the asthmatic melo- 
 deon punctuated their talk with quavering quavers and 
 crotchety tones, these two men showed each other their 
 inmost desires. 
 
 " I told Faythliss to meet us here this morning be- 
 tween eleven and twelve," said Judge Upps, glancing 
 from the face of a handsome gold repeater in his hand 
 toward the dingy window through which the court- 
 yard gate was visible. 
 
 " It would have been better, probably," Gays an- 
 swered, rubbing his hands apologetically together, "to 
 have said about two o'clock."
 
 234 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 " Because that is the universal dinner hour, and we 
 would have been more secure from observation." 
 
 "Blast the universal dinner hour! I intend that 
 Faythliss shall be elected sheriff of this county, and 
 you don't expect to carry this election against every 
 white man in the county 'secure from observation,' 
 do you ?" 
 
 The judge gave his head a defiant shake, and laughed 
 scornfully into the face of his more timorous colleague, 
 who sat silently laving his hands in the atmosphere be- 
 fore venturing upon a reply. 
 
 " True, very true ! " he said at last ; " but you know, 
 judge, there is an old saying which advises one to let 
 sleeping dogs lie. I only want to let the dogs sleep as 
 long as possible. It is absolutely essential for the good 
 of the party that Faythliss shall be the next sheriff of 
 this county " 
 
 " He must be," the judge interrupts, bringing his fist 
 down with as much force as the expounder overhead 
 was expending on the cushion. 
 
 " As you say, ' he must be ; ' true, very true, and he 
 shall be. His own color, though, are the ones to elect 
 him." 
 
 " His own color are a parcel of cowardly whelps who 
 need a leader, and will take the first one that offers. 
 They have no ideas, no opinions, no convictions. As 
 yet they have scarcely any desires beyond a pinchbeck
 
 MISCHIEF-MONGERS. 235 
 
 breast-pin or a flask of whisky. If we fail to show 
 them the way to go, there are those about us that will 
 perform that duty for us, but not quite to our liking. 
 Harris has picked out his man for sheriff already. Give 
 him half a chance to elect him, and you and I might as 
 well seek fresh fields and pastures green." 
 
 " Harris is a dangerous man when once aroused. I 
 had Harris in my mind's eye when I suggested the pro- 
 priety of letting sleeping dogs lie," Gay answers nerv- 
 ously. 
 
 " He would be more dangerous if not quite so con- 
 temptuous. He feels so secure of holding the herd in 
 hand, so far as the final outcome is concerned, that he 
 is willing to let you and me, with our highly respectable 
 constituency of free niggers, run to our rope's end, in 
 the confident hope that when we get there the noose 
 will tighten about our necks of its own accord and 
 choke us." 
 
 Upps laughed a little mirthless laugh, bit off the end 
 of a cigar with savage energy, and scowled at the gate 
 through which the delinquent Faythliss must come 
 sooner or later. 
 
 " We are very comfortable as we are, Upps, I advo- 
 cate going slowly. I don't know how it was with you 
 before you came South, but I'm free to say I had a tol- 
 erably tough time of it. Don't you think some good 
 strong advice given by us to Faythliss, under bond of 
 inviolable secrecy, you know, and through him to the
 
 236 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 leading men of color, would be about as much as we are 
 called on to do for the party at this particular juncture. 
 
 " Gays," said the judge, fixing the clerk of the court 
 with his deep blue eye, " I'll be dashed if I know what 
 to expect from you, or how far I can depend upon you. 
 I believe at this moment, if Harris were to throw you 
 a bone with one hand, and slap you with the other 
 while you were gnawing it, you would apologize to him 
 for gnawing a bone that had once belonged to him. By 
 George, I do, sir ! " 
 
 " Harris is not likely to throw us any bones," says 
 Gays, unresentfully, taking the taunt rather literally, 
 " but I certainly am peacefully inclined, Upps very 
 peacefully inclined, and while I agree with you per- 
 fectly as to the necessity, for the sake of the party, that 
 we should elect Faythliss to this office, I can not see 
 why we need make ourselves unnecessarily conspicu- 
 ous in the matter." 
 
 " Conspicuous ! By the eternal, I intend to be con- 
 spicuous, and when these high-steppers find themselves 
 saddled with one of their own ex-slaves as a sheriff, I 
 want them to know that Rufus Upps is the man who 
 did the saddling." 
 
 Mr. Gays's eyes were full of awe-stricken admiration 
 of his bolder colleague. His own heart was steeped in 
 the same unholy ambition, but his timorous soul shrank 
 appalled from assuming an avowedly antagonistic posi- 
 tion toward the white people of the count)'.
 
 MISCHIEF-MONGERS. 237 
 
 " True, Upps, very true ! I agree with you perfect- 
 ly in every thing you say, but " 
 
 " Well, boss, how's you come on, bof'n you ? Y'hers 
 me on time, hen't I?" 
 
 This boisterous interruption came from no less a per- 
 son than Mr. Faythliss himself. Mr. Gays left his pro- 
 test incomplete to rise and offer a hand and word of 
 welcome to the ebon-hued candidate for the shrievalty 
 of the county. Judge Upps contented himself with 
 shoving a chair toward his protegt with his foot, say- 
 ing: 
 
 " Sit down, Faythliss. You're late, but I suppose 
 you've never learned the value of your own time yet." 
 A subtle intimation that Mr. Faythliss's time had not 
 been long enough at his own disposal for him to be 
 able to value it properly. The intimation might have 
 had an inflammatory effect upon a finer organism, but 
 was completely thrown away upon the candidate, who 
 belonged to low comedy rather than high tragedy. 
 
 " I b'leeves yer, boss," he said, with general accept- 
 ance of the judge's statement, " but y'see Sundy's a 
 sorter off-day, and atter a nigger's been plow'n' hard all 
 week he's mouty ap' t'oversleep hisseff uv a Sundy. 
 En den, y'see, he's got to git hisseff up a little extry, 
 en dat 'sumes time." 
 
 Mr. Faythliss shook out a highly perfumed handker- 
 chief in testimony to the fact that he had gotten " his- 
 seff " up a " leetle extry," laughed in an unembarrassed.
 
 *3 8 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 hearty way that showed his superb white teeth, rested 
 his shining black hands on the knees of his new plaid 
 trowsers, and signified by a nod that he was ready for 
 business. " Jim Furniss, he told me dat you two gents 
 wanted t'see me sorter 'tickler this mornin', en yer I is, 
 accordin'." 
 
 " Faythliss," Judge Upps asked, plunging into the 
 subject, " how would you like to be sheriff of this 
 county?" 
 
 "Me! Sher'f! Sher'f dis yer county ! Boss, you's 
 a-jokin' ! " and the joke seemed so much more easy to 
 grasp than the tremendous reality, that Mr. Faythliss 
 threw back his head and laughed uproariously. 
 
 His superabundant hair, freed from the bondage of 
 the twine strings that wrapped it about in a myriad of 
 tight coils on working days, now radiated in kinky lati- 
 tude half a foot in every direction from the crown of 
 his head, and, as he laughed, it seemed to partake of 
 his merriment by an independent activity of its own. 
 " You'se sholy jokin', jedge ! " he repeated, sobered 
 somewhat by the angry displeasure in the judge's 
 gleaming eye. " I'd lak de bes' in de worrel t'commo- 
 date yer, boss, but I don' know nuthin' 't all 'bout dat 
 sorter work, Now, ef it waz t'run a gin fer yer, er 
 t'brek er yoke er steers " 
 
 "You will have to learn, then," the judge interrupts, 
 imperiously. 
 
 f< Who gwine learnt me ? "
 
 MISCHIEF-MONGERS. 239 
 
 j " 
 
 " Dat's mouty 'commodatin' uv yer, boss, 'tis dat, sho. 
 You 'low I could git 'longwid de w'ite folks? I ain' 
 got nuthin' 'g'in de w'ite folks now, en dey ain' got 
 nuthin' 'g'in me ; we gits 'long mouty peac'ble lak to- 
 gedder, we does. How yer reckon it'd turn out ef I 
 wuz t'git to be sher'f ? " 
 
 " They would have to get along peaceably with you 
 then, Faythliss. You would have the whip-hand of 
 them. They had it of you for a long time, and did 
 not hesitate to make you feel it, either." 
 
 " I b'leeves yer, boss." The smile passed away as 
 the poison took effect, and a sullen gloom overspread 
 the broad features of the candidate who was having 
 greatness thrust upon him somewhat in spite of him- 
 self. " Yer's mouty right 'bout dat, boss I ain' gwine 
 back on yer dar." 
 
 " Who did you belong to, Mr. Faythliss, before the 
 war?" Mr. Gay asked, in a voice brimful of apology 
 for any allusion to such degradation. 
 
 " Ole Squire Thorn, en a tight un he wur, too," said 
 Mr. Faythliss, with careless readiness. " But I ain' 
 got nuthin' 'g'in him, en he ain' got nuthin' 'g'in me. 
 We's ve'y good frien's, me en squar." 
 
 " You have stuck by him, have you ? " 
 
 " Not much I ain'. Fse ben crappin' on a leetle 
 piece uv Ian' w'ich b'longs to Lawyer Harris down 
 here. Lawyer Harris, he's a fa'r man in all hisdealin's.
 
 240 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 I'll say dat much for him 'fo' his face en 'hin' his back 
 too. He is, en no mistake." 
 
 "We don't doubt that for a moment, Faythliss; of 
 course he's a fair man. But he doesn't treat you quite 
 like an equal now, does he ? Doesn't invite you to sit 
 down in his presence, and so forth, does he ?" 
 
 Judge Upps glanced significantly toward the chair 
 Mr. Faythliss was then tilting back on two legs with 
 social-equality grace and freedom, as if inviting a con- 
 trast between his own treatment of the colored men 
 and Lawyer Harris. 
 
 " Well, jedge, you's right ag'in. I lay this nigger 
 '11 have t' drap in his tracks ef he wait for Lawyer Har- 
 ris t' ax him ter sot down in his presence, or his par- 
 lor, ary one. But I ain % never laid that up ag'in him 
 nuther. I ain' lay nuthin' up ag'in him. He's a fa'r 
 en a squar' man, Lawyer Harris is." 
 
 Judge Upps paused long enough to take in the con- 
 tents of a slip of paper Mr. Gays cunningly threw 
 under his eye. He read on it : 
 
 " Is not Faythliss rather below par even with his own 
 color? I think I know a better man for our purposes. 
 He hasn't a grain of ambition." 
 
 Mr. Faythliss's education had been too entirely neg- 
 lected for him to observe the maneuver or resent the 
 conveyance of an answer in a carelessly penciled line 
 on the margin of a newspaper : 
 
 " He is profoundly ignorant, but shrewd, and
 
 MISCHIEF-MONGERS. 241 
 
 altogether malleable. He is exactly the man we 
 want." 
 
 This decision having been arrived at by the stronger 
 of the two men, the weaker lent himself to the task of 
 sowing the seeds of political aspirations in the virgin 
 soil of Mr. Faythliss's brain. 
 
 The candidate gave them his most rapt attention 
 while they detailed at great length the glory and the 
 profit that were to accrue to him when he should con- 
 quer the shrievalty against the votes and prejudices 
 and wishes of the former slave-owners. They laid down 
 very minute directions for his walking and talking 
 throughout the ordeal of a canvas. They convinced 
 him that, aside from his own color, he had but two real 
 friends, and they were both before him. He listened 
 with unaffected humility to the directions for his con- 
 duct during the period of probation, and " enthused " 
 to the extent of a very broad grin when they painted 
 the glories of success to him in glowing colors. 
 
 And while they imparted and he absorbed, the 
 wheezy melodeon uptairs panted out : " What shall 
 the Harvest be?" 
 
 What indeed ?
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MIND AND MUSCLE. 
 
 THE hot summer in its turn scorched its way into 
 the melancholy days of autumn, when the woods 
 grew brown and sere, when the squirrels and the 
 cawing crows contended for supremacy about the upper 
 branches of the well-laden pecan trees, enriching by 
 their quarrelsome competition the hogs that grunted 
 about the roots of the trees, turning over the piles of 
 dead leaves with industrious snouts, and the turkeys 
 that strutted among the swine with crimsoned wattles 
 and indignantly spread tail, resentful of the necessity 
 that compelled them to secure their own nuts in such 
 plebeian company, but, like many a featherless aristo- 
 crat, not willing to forego the flesh-pots for the sake of 
 hungry dignity. 
 
 The golden-rod and the purple iron-weed glorified 
 every nook and corner of the fences and roadside. 
 The paw-paw hung its wild bananas from every branch 
 in tempting profusion. The persimmons strewed the 
 ground in impartial and fragrant offering to man and 
 beast. The frost-nipped foliage fell from the cotton- 
 stalks, leaving the fields white for the gathering.
 
 MIND AND MUSCLE. 243 
 
 The busy season was upon the planters, and a sort of 
 mild activity superseded the heat-burdened lethargy of 
 the summer. Rude cotton houses, of brand-new 
 cypress slabs, gleamed redly here and there over the 
 whitening fields. Under the new order, each squad 
 houses its own crop separately, to await its turn at the 
 gin, and as soon as empty again it will either be con- 
 verted into firewood by himself or his nearest neighbor. 
 The architectural features of these structures are 
 primitive and slight. It was at this season of the year, 
 also, that each planter awoke, as it were, to a surprised 
 consciousness that his gin was thoroughly out of repair ; 
 and, on the principle of never too late to mend, a 
 frenzy of boiler-patching, saw-sharpening, press- 
 strengthening, band-lengthening, stand-cleaning, and 
 brush-renewing seized upon the neighborhood, involv- 
 ing it in a violent irruption of industry. 
 
 Slight and spasmodic as the social life of these 
 planting neighborhoods generally is, it is altogether 
 suspended when ginning time comes. Then the planter 
 spends his days either in the saddle, urging the pro- 
 priety of picking while it is yet day, reminding the 
 thoughtless that the night cometh when no man can 
 pick, or, at his gin, weighing, baling, marking, dividing, 
 shipping the pretentious-looking bales that it has taken 
 twelve weary months to get ready for the market. 
 The plantation of the South is the true land of promise. 
 Rarely, however, do its promises reach fulfillment.
 
 244 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 The greatness which is predicted for the South by the 
 wise men of to-day is not to be looked for in its cotton 
 fields nor expected of its agriculturists. It is not he 
 who bears the heat and burden of the day to produce 
 the staple, patiently dropping its furzy seed, wearily 
 picking its hanging fleece, toilsomely handling its iron- 
 bound lint, who reaps the golden harvest from it. No 
 one who handles it but extracts greater profit from the 
 cotton crop than the planter. 
 
 Small wonder, then, that the faces grouped about 
 the various gins on the several plantations with which 
 this story has to do were not aglow with that pleasur- 
 able excitement that bespeaks the harvester content 
 with the reward of his efforts. Rather was there a 
 sullen acceptance of the inevitable, and a weary 
 patience born of often-repeated experiences of a like 
 nature. 
 
 The prolonged drought which invariably follows upon 
 high water had shortened the crop materially by caus- 
 ing it to shed its immature " forms." A wet August 
 had given aid and comfort to the army-worm, which 
 had still further diminished the hopes of the planters, 
 who had unanimously declared in June that the pros- 
 pect was better than it had been at any time before 
 since the war. Perhaps there is no crop that grows 
 which is subject to more vicissitudes than the cotton 
 crop. Certain it is there is no class of laborers who 
 bear those vicissitudes better. There is a stolid endur.
 
 MIND AND MUSCLE. 245 
 
 ance that comes of wrestling with adversity which is 
 theirs. There is much in being inured to hardship and 
 disappointment. That much is theirs in galore. The 
 prospect of a short crop and poor prices scarcely cast 
 a shadow of anxiety over the freedmen. They would, 
 in a41 probability, " not pay out." Scarcely one in 
 twenty expected such good fortune. But the man to 
 whom the land belonged would have to feed and house 
 them between the taking off of this crop and the pitch- 
 ing of the next one, or else run the risk of finding him- 
 self handless in plowing time. Whisky and tobacco might 
 run a little short, and what of the crop that didn't go 
 to the New Orleans commission merchant would be 
 gobbled up by the Jews that hovered about the gins 
 like buzzards waiting to alight on their prey. But, as 
 a delightful offset, the local elections would come in as 
 soon as ginning was done, and the anticipation of put- 
 ting one of their own color into the important position 
 of sheriff of the county buoyed them above the bitter- 
 ness of empty pockets and a balance on the wrong side 
 of the ledger. So they went about the task of picking 
 out and baling the crop already overdue, with a heed- 
 less haste to get it off hand, so they might give their 
 undivided attention to more important things. 
 
 Mr. Sam Faythliss's candidacy had long since been 
 publicly announced, and, as his opponent was a one- 
 armed relic of the Civil War on the Confederate side, 
 Sam's election was considered a foregone conclusion.
 
 246 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 It was the anticipation of this same election that 
 intensified the gloomy apprehension of the white 
 planters. They looked forward to a winter of discon- 
 tent, signalized by short crops, low prices, and the dis- 
 order of a local election, which had for its object the 
 placing in authority over them of one of the most igno- 
 rant of their own ex-slaves. 
 
 Left to themselves, there was nothing to apprehend 
 from the negroes, but it was tacitly understood that 
 Upps and Gays were the powers behind the throne, and 
 every man's conscience now smote him with the mem- 
 ory of countless exasperations to hatred and revenge 
 given these two unscrupulous adventurers. 
 
 In short, the gravity of the situation was so extreme 
 that nothing but a " good long talk " with Denny 
 appeared at all adequate to Mr. Southmead's need 
 under the circumstances. 
 
 An impalpable something arising out of an impalpa- 
 ble nothing had floated palpably between the major 
 and Ursula Ralston, obscuring the friendly clearness 
 of the atmosphere, casting a slight chill into Mrs. 
 Ralston's manner, which the new man at Rossmere had 
 not been slow to detect and to act upon. 
 
 " It is not as if I were an ordinary wooer," he said to 
 himself, meditatively, not uncheerfully, over this subtle 
 alteration in his status, and boldly avowing to himself 
 that some of these days he intended to offer himself to 
 the gentle widow at Tievina. " They've only accepted
 
 MIND AND MUSCLE. 247 
 
 me on sufferance so far, and I'd rather they'd sift me at 
 their own leisure, and take me for what I'm worth 
 finally." 
 
 Determination and patience entered in about equal 
 proportions into Stirling Denny's composition. He 
 was content to bide his time uncomplainingly. No 
 one knew just exactly how it came to happen, but hap- 
 pen it did, that whenever any thing needed to be dis- 
 cussed with the major, Mr. Southmead rode over to 
 Rossmere to discuss it. As for Frederic, well, Fred 
 had never been quite weaned away from Rossmere 
 since he had grown so fond of its dusty old books and 
 its new master in the days of the latter's illness ; and 
 as the boy and the man came to be knitted together 
 in the bonds of closest friendship, Fred was fond of 
 saying, " it was almost impossible to decide whether 
 the major's greatest strength lay in his mind or in his 
 muscle." 
 
 In the yard at Rossmere stood a triplet of grand old 
 oaks at right angles to each other. Under these oaks 
 was the major's workshop. Not an amateurish affair 
 into which he retired when weary with intellectual 
 labor, to refresh himself by playing at work, but a ver- 
 itable smithy and carpenter's shop combined, from 
 which, working on scientific methods and from ap- 
 proved models, he had turned out several row-boats and 
 shells which were the admiration of the neighborhood. 
 He was teaching Fred a good deal that was to the
 
 248 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 benefit of his brawn. It was a revelation to the boy 
 that mental culture and physical effort could be so hap- 
 pily blended in one possessor. That there was a dig- 
 nity in labor and a virtue in self-help was another one 
 of the revolutionary ideas he imbibed from the new 
 man at Rossmere. Reared among the traditions of 
 ante-bellum days, and surrounded by a people so re- 
 cently come into liberty that they made no practical 
 use of it, to Frederic it seemed quite a matter-of-course 
 to delegate every disagreeable duty to an inferior. He 
 at first gazed with more wonder than admiration at the 
 man who, with a hundred blacks zealous to do his 
 slightest bidding, habitually saddled his own horse or 
 rowed his own skiff. These were menial offices in 
 Fred's eyes. But the time soon came when wonder 
 at any thing Stirling chose to do, was merged into ad- 
 miration and unquestioning acceptance of his new 
 friend as he was. 
 
 When Mr. Southmead reached Rossmere on the 
 occasion in question, Aunt Maria, Stirling's cook, was 
 the only person visible about the house. By her he 
 was told to look for the folks in the shop, which he 
 proceeded to do. Two men, in blue plaid cotton 
 blowses, were dealing swinging alternate blows upon a 
 piece of red-hot iron on the anvil in the shop. Two 
 pairs of muscular arms were bared to the elbow, and 
 two pairs of laughing eyes noted the amazement on the 
 visitor's face.
 
 MIND AND MUSCLE. 249 
 
 "Hillo!" called Mr. Southmead, standing just out 
 of range of the hammer. 
 
 " Hillo yourself! " the major sang out, bringing his 
 sledge down on the glowing metal with tremendous 
 force. " Can't stop just now. Must strike while the 
 iron's hot. Make yourself at home." 
 
 Which last Mr. Southmead proceeded to do by seat- 
 ing himself astride a tool-bench to await their leisure. 
 He regarded Fred in his novel role of blacksmith as 
 quite an improvement upon the languid loiterer of a 
 few months back, and felt honestly grateful to Major 
 Denny for the marked improvement in his son. 
 
 "What's up?" he asked, as the two smiths stopped 
 to rest and wipe their moistened brows. 
 
 " Only a little boiler-patching," said the major. " I 
 find my boiler not quite safe ; and as the crack is too 
 insignificant to warrant the delay and expense of send- 
 ing all the way to Vicksburg for a boiler-mender, Fred 
 and I concluded to try our own hands at it." 
 
 " With what success ? " 
 
 " Capital. We've resolved ourselves into a mutual 
 admiration society, and are quite willing to put our 
 patchwork on exhibition by the side of any your pro- 
 fessionals are doing for you at Tievina. Are you ready 
 to start your gin ? " 
 
 " Not by a good deal. From present prospects, that 
 fellow I've got fixing my gin-brushes will about be done 
 the day after Christmas. My hopper is packed with
 
 250 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 seed-cotton to its utmost capacity now, and the delay is 
 most vexatious." 
 
 "You didn't get at it soon enough," said the major, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Soon enough. How was I to know the rats had 
 played the wild with my brushes? I thought I was 
 ready for ginning, if there wasn't another man in the 
 bed of the lake who was." 
 
 "The rat is a predaceous rodent," the major said, 
 oracularly, " with a healthy appetite for every thing that 
 offers, from a dairy cheese to a gin-brush, which latter 
 delicacy certainly is caviare to the general. He had 
 better have given us the job, Fred." 
 
 " Yes, we'd have saved you time and money, 
 father." 
 
 " Both of which are scarce and valuable articles, but, 
 I say, aren't you both growing a little conceited on the 
 strength of that patch ? I don't believe you know any 
 thing about gin stands or brushes." 
 
 " We propose to put those in ourselves." 
 
 The major pointed to a lot of loose brushes on a work- 
 bench behind the doubter. Mr. Southmead looked 
 admiringly from them to the ruddy cheeks of his recon- 
 structed boy. 
 
 "It beats Plato and Virgil eh, Fred?" 
 
 "We're not so modernized as to go back on the 
 ancients in that fashion," says Stirling, answering for 
 both, " and we pay our respects to Plato every evening
 
 MIND AND MUSCLE. 251 
 
 by way of refreshment. I am afraid Mrs. Southmead 
 will never forgive me Fred's hardened hands." 
 
 " Nor me this blue shirt," says Fred, laughing. " Coz 
 made it surreptitiously for me. I'm afraid, if mother 
 had known its final destination, it would have produced 
 a regular bloody-shirt excitement." 
 
 Mr. Southmead's face suddenly grew grave. 
 
 " Mention of the ' bloody shirt,' Denny, suggests the 
 real object of my ride over here this morning. I am 
 afraid we are going to have the very mischief to pay 
 over the fall elections. I wanted to talk with you on 
 that very subject." 
 
 " What makes you think so ? I haven't been paying 
 much attention to the subject myself, but Craycraft has 
 been going to the village pretty often of late and I 
 rather gathered from him that the colored people were 
 decidedly lukewarm in the matter of this coming elec- 
 tion. What makes you think differently ? " 
 
 "Craycraft does not know them. The negro lives 
 exclusively in the present. He has no regrets for the 
 past nor aspirations for the future. They are like chil- 
 dren not given to profound or prolonged consideration 
 of any thing which does not have to be decided in the 
 present. But, again like children, they are ready for 
 any amount of mischief their leaders may choose to 
 map out for them." 
 
 " But are not their leaders as childishly inconsequent 
 as themselves?"
 
 252 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 " You evidently do not know who their leaders 
 are." 
 
 " No, I confess to my profound ignorance. The local 
 politics of the section have not appealed to me with any 
 force. Perhaps I am to blame for taking too little 
 interest in the subject. Enlighten me." 
 
 "The power behind the throne is Judge Upps." 
 
 " Upps ! You surprise me. And Gays ? I believe 
 they pull in the same boat." 
 
 "And Gays. But Upps is stroke oar." 
 
 "What special interest have they in the matter?" 
 
 " Their chief end in life at present is to punish the 
 white people of the community for their own social 
 ostracism. Upps is a man of considerable polish and 
 more ambition." 
 
 " But perhaps the election of Faythliss will not prove 
 a punishment. His duties will be exclusively func- 
 tional, and his ignorance will compel the appointment 
 of a deputy. So that if you secure a good deputy, 
 things may go smoother than you hope for, even with 
 poor old Sam as nominal sheriff." 
 
 " Who would serve as deputy under a negro ? " asked 
 Frederic with hot scorn. 
 
 " I would," the major answered, with cool delibera- 
 tion. 
 
 " You ! " the boy asked flushing with embarrassment, 
 and wondering uneasily if his idol was about to topple 
 to the ground.
 
 MIi\'D AND MUSCLE. 253 
 
 " You, Denny ! " his father echoed, " with your refine- 
 ment, your education, your brain ! " 
 
 " I, with the educational qualifications which would 
 be all the more necessary to supply the deficiency in 
 him. But, as Mr. Faythliss is not likely to arrive at 
 the dignity of sheriff soon, I am premature in bespeak- 
 ing office under him," he added, in lighter vein. 
 
 " You are mistaken there. His chances are better 
 than good." 
 
 " What sort of a fellow is he ? " the major asked, 
 reflectively, examining a long iron spike he had picked 
 up off the floor. 
 
 " A harmless fool if left to himself. As dangerous as 
 dynamite in the hands of Upps and Gays." 
 
 "Aren't you a little fanciful, Southmead? Perhaps 
 you credit these two gentlemen with more gall than 
 they are responsible for. How would it advance their 
 interests to stir up strife in your midst? " 
 
 " Revenge is sweet, and well, we've all shown those 
 two fellows that we hardly thought them worth 
 kicking." 
 
 " Which wasn't the part of wisdom," the major said, 
 with grave eyes, but a jocular voice. " Have you ever 
 discussed the political outlook with your people ?" 
 
 " With my darkeys ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " No. I'd as soon think of haranguing the mules in 
 the lot."
 
 254 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 "There's where you damage yourself, Southmead, 
 and play into the hands of your enemies. If the white 
 men of the South would only promptly recognize that, 
 so long as the franchise has been bestowed, its enlight- 
 ened use should be their own most earnest lookout, 
 these carpet-baggers, whom I detest with a fervor to 
 which your dislike is mild, would find themselves pow- 
 erless for evil. I am afraid I have been very remiss 
 selfishly so." 
 
 " Perhaps we've all been. I must confess a darkey's 
 vote has heretofore been a clumsy joke to me. It is 
 hard for us to take his citizenship seriously." 
 
 " I can imagine that. I can conceive of the soreness 
 attending the present state of things. Believe me, 
 friend, I am not indifferent to your view of it " (Stir- 
 ling looked into the troubled eyes of his friend with 
 sincere affection), " and I'll prove it to you by throw- 
 ing myself into this election with more heart. If these 
 colored citizens of ours are indeed the leadable children 
 you say they are, well then we must lead them aright. 
 
 " Fred, what do you say to knocking off work for 
 to-day and taking a holiday? I'm free to confess your 
 father has scattered my fit of industry." He rose from 
 the trestle where he had been facing Mr. Southmead, 
 and pulled his sleeves down. " I've a mind to have up 
 some of the boys from my own quarters and sound 
 them in the Upps-Gays issue." 
 
 " Do so, and you will find these two men have gained
 
 MIND AND MUSCLE. 255 
 
 an amount of influence marvelous, considering the 
 length of time they have been in the county." 
 
 " No. Not marvelous. They have flattered the 
 freedmen with a picture of social equality which no 
 doubt has been very agreeable to them. We all have 
 our little weaknesses why not Sambo his? " 
 
 Laughing into the anxious faces of his companions, 
 the major turned the key in the padlock of his shop 
 while speaking, and then led the way back to the 
 house.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ELECTION DAY. 
 
 ELECTION day dawned ! 
 It dawned in a gray, sad, misty fashion ; with 
 low-hung clouds overhead ; a dismal, marrow-penetra- 
 ting atmosphere everywhere ; a mournful rustling 
 among the leafless branches of the forest trees ; and a 
 general diffusion of physical discomfort, calculated to 
 dampen the ardor of any pursuit less independent of 
 atmospheric influences than the pursuit of political 
 preferment or revenge ! 
 
 Judge Rufus Upps was earlier on the go, on that 
 eventful morning, than was even his industrious habit. 
 He gave but a glance at the leaden-gray sky overhead 
 as he came out of his room, dressed with more than 
 his usual regard for an imposing appearance, and 
 stood upon the low, unrailed, unsheltered portico in 
 front of his lodging-house, paring his nails with that 
 deliberation that goes with the knowledge of having to 
 wait a tedious while for one's breakfast. 
 
 He shivered when the raw atmosphere promptly 
 penetrated his tweed-covered back and reached his 
 spinal column with chilling force ; but that one shiver
 
 ELE C TION DAY. 257 
 
 was only a tribute of weakness to a climate that was 
 fuller of terrors for him than all its inhabitants com- 
 bined. The weather gave him no particular concern, 
 for he knew the caliber of the class he had been manip- 
 ulating for months past too well to apprehend any 
 holding back on account of a leaden sky or a raw wind. 
 His was no kid-glove constituency, and he had been ply- 
 ing them with the leaven of discontent until they had 
 responded by a most promising show of fermentation. 
 
 As early as it was, the streets of the village already 
 gave indication that an event of unusual interest was 
 about to transpire. Colored men and women in about 
 equal proportions, mounted on mules, crowded in 
 wagons, or trudging afoot, some in rags and some in 
 tags and some in gorgeous gowns, were already thickly 
 dotting the road as far as the eye could reach, in every 
 direction, landward. As many as half a dozen skiffs, 
 flats, and dug-outs, loaded to the water's edge with a 
 human cargo, stirred the still, gray waters of the lake. 
 The balloting was not to begin before ten or eleven 
 o'clock, but the pursuit of ordinary occupations was 
 altogether out of the question for that day, and the pick- 
 ing sacks and baskets of these dusky Cincinnatuses 
 were left standing in the fields just where they had 
 been dropped when their owners had stopped work 
 to settle the affairs of state. 
 
 "Fools!" 
 
 Judge Upps passed his strong, sinewy hand through
 
 258 THE NE W MAN A 7' ROSSMERE. 
 
 his red hair with a clutching rather than a caressing 
 motion as he uttered this monosyllable with vicious 
 emphasis. Perhaps it applied to the crowds of illiterate 
 voters who were flocking by, eager to do his bidding at 
 the polls that day, but whose constantly recurring 
 " Mornin', boss ! " seemed rather to irritate his temper 
 than soothe his vanity. Perhaps it applied to the white 
 people, who had added one more to their many nat- 
 ural errors during the bewildering period of recon- 
 struction by making an enemy of such men as himself, 
 instead of using him as effectually as he was now 
 bent on using their old slaves. 
 
 Not a few of the harassed natives had come to that 
 conclusion themselves before the dawning of that 
 dreary November election day. But somber retro- 
 spection is the most unavailing of all mental exercises. 
 It was pardonable that these sorely tried men took 
 refuge in violent denunciation of every thing and 
 every body connected with the nomination of Fayth- 
 liss, and in declaring, with vehement determination, at 
 the eleventh hour, that to submit to this election was 
 to brand themselves with eternal infamy and to render 
 life in the old land practically unendurable. The de- 
 termination that Faythliss should not be the next 
 sheriff of the county was fixed in their minds. How it 
 was to be prevented was a point upon which they were 
 a trifle befogged. The determination that Faythliss 
 should be the next sheriff of the county was equally
 
 ELECTION DA Y. 259 
 
 strong in the minds of Rufus Upps and his dusky fol- 
 lowing. How it was to be accomplished was a point 
 upon which he was not at all befogged. 
 
 To accept the inevitable quietly is the mark of a 
 wise man. To accept it gracefully is the mark of a 
 wiser one. But wise men are scarcer than rubies in 
 these degenerate days. Long before the plantation 
 bells, clanging from force of habit, proclaimed the hour 
 of noon, the little village by the lake swarmed with a 
 laughing, frowning, jostling, talking, excited throng of 
 blacks, the tremendous numerical preponderance of 
 which over the handful of grave-faced white men was 
 significant of the fact of a "walk-over" for Mr. Fayth- 
 liss and a corresponding defeat for his one-armed op- 
 ponent. 
 
 Judge Upps and his confrere, Mr. Gays, seemed 
 ubiquitous. Wherever two or three were grouped to- 
 gether, discussing the questionable wisdom of "runnin' 
 foul uv de w'ite folks wa t hel' de sto'room keys," Judge 
 Upps, divining their wavering purpose by the per- 
 plexity stamped on their untutored foreheads, would 
 suddenly appear in their midst, and, by adroitly lead- 
 ing them to recall the trials and indignities inflicted 
 upon them by these very men in other days, would fire 
 their ignorant hearts with a desire to return trial for 
 trial, indignity for indignity, sealing their resolve to 
 exalt one of their own color to a high estate inde- 
 pendently of any fitness for the office, the absence of
 
 260 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 which in the candidate was apparent even to their ig- 
 norant comprehension. If, in another spot, perhaps a 
 dozen or more freedmen, with the words of better 
 counselors still dwelling in their memories, were sur- 
 reptitiously haranguing a group of their own color upon 
 the wrong and ingratitude of " turnin' ag'in the w'ite 
 folks that fotch 'em up," Mr. Gays, with restless hands 
 and insinuating voice, was sure to probe his way 
 promptly into their midst, when he would skillfully 
 turn the haranguer into a huge joke for the benefit of 
 his derisive comrades. 
 
 It soon became evident to the most sanguine 
 that victory was about to perch on Mr. Faythliss's ban- 
 ner. 
 
 " You know," said Mr. Southmead, addressing a 
 group of sober-browed citizens collected on the gallery 
 of Mr. Harris's law office, "if we knew how to fling 
 mud, our chances of blackening Sam and lessening his 
 chances would be much better." 
 
 "Do you think any amount of mud-flinging could 
 intensify Sam's physical blackness, or damage his no- 
 reputation materially ? He is absolutely unassailable 
 from the ordinary politician's points of attack," Manton 
 Craycraft said, laughing derisively ; then to the squire : 
 "You ought to be pretty well posted as to his private 
 record." 
 
 " Private record. He ain't got none, the black ras- 
 cal," The squire swelled with impotent rage. " I'd
 
 ELECTION DA Y. 261 
 
 like to help his record by a touch of these 'ere boots of 
 mine, which he's blacked more times than he can 
 count. I'd be willin' to let him arrest me when he 
 gits to be sheriff just for the privilege of kickin' him 
 round that court-house yard oncet. Sam. Him that I 
 raised right yonder in a nigger cabin on Thorndale, 
 and owned his mammy and his daddy before him. I 
 bought 'em out in Alabama, and a good-for-nothinger, 
 triflinger lot never was bunched together under one 
 roof. Sam sheriff. B' gad, gentlemen, it's more'n a 
 man at my time of life ought to be called on to stand, 
 and, b' gad, gentlemen, I ain't a-goin' to stand it 
 either." 
 
 " What are you going to do about it ? " Craycraft 
 asked, with an exasperating sneer in his voice. 
 
 " Do. What am I goin' to do about it, Craycraft ? 
 I can't just say now what I'm goin' to do, only he'd 
 better keep out of my sight, Craycraft, he had, indeed, 
 if them fools do elect him. By George, I ain't so old 
 that I ain't dangerous when I'm stirred up, Craycraft, 
 and if Sam darst speak to me after he's elected, I'll 
 I'll I believe I'd slap his sassy jaws. I will, byjingo, 
 Craycraft." 
 
 " Slapping Sam Faythliss, who used to black your 
 boots, and slapping the jaws of the county sheriff, are 
 two very different undertakings. Sheriffs don't submit 
 to corporal punishment amiably, squire, and Mr. 
 Faythliss is not apt to prove an exception," Stirling
 
 262 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Denny said, hastily interposing to prevent further exas- 
 peration of the old man's temper by Manton, who, he 
 could see, was ready with a fresh taunt, rather enjoying 
 the sport of baiting the old squire. 
 
 Craycraft's was the only individuality the squire ever 
 recognized in a group of men ; he turned toward him 
 now, to say, with mocking bitterness : 
 
 " Mr. Faythliss. Where the deuce do you suppose 
 he picked up that name, Craycraft? There wasn't 
 never any misters on the old plantation where Sam was 
 brought up." 
 
 " His sponsors in baptism gave it to him, I suppose," 
 says Manton, lightly. 
 
 " His sponsors in devilment, you'd better say. Upps 
 manufactured it for him. Upps, or that lantern-jawed 
 sneak-thief of a Gays." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Manton, rising and reaching over 
 the squire's shoulder for his hat on the table behind 
 him, "if invective and expletive were all that was neces- 
 sary to defeat Faythliss, you'd have it all your own 
 way, squire. You might just sit here and curse him out 
 of office. What a pityyour vocabulary is so unavailing." 
 
 " Where are you going? " the old man asked, with 
 childish interest in every movement made by his 
 favorite. 
 
 " I believe I will walk up town and see how things 
 are going," Manton said, addressing his answer to the 
 entire group.
 
 ELECTION DA Y. 263 
 
 The squire rose promptly, and put his own hat on. 
 " I'll go with you." 
 
 " You had better stay where you are, squire. You 
 
 
 
 are not likely to do any good up yonder, and you 
 might get yourself into trouble." 
 
 It was Mr. Southmead who gave this good advice, 
 but it fell upon stony ground. 
 
 " Trouble. Me get into trouble. What sorter 
 trouble? D'ye suppose I'm any more afeared of these 
 blasted free niggers than I used to be when they 
 b'longed to me?" he asked, valorously punctuating 
 his remarks with the ferule of his cane on the office 
 floor. 
 
 " Your being afraid or being not afraid has no bear- 
 ing on the question, squire. You are not cool-headed 
 enough to be trusted. You had better stay where you 
 are. There are more interests than yours at stake just 
 now." 
 
 The old man glanced at this new adviser with a 
 malignant scowl. It was Stirling Denny, the man 
 whom of all others he hated with a most intense 
 bitterness. 
 
 "Your int'res' in my welfare is sorter touchin', 
 major," he said, with what was meant for biting scorn. 
 " P'raps my head isn't quite as cool as it might 'a' ben 
 if I'd ben born on the other side of Mason an' Dixon's 
 line ; and sometimes I do get a little rampageous, 
 mos' specially when I fin' my wife's ben a-visitin'
 
 264 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 invalid gentlemen at raytner unseasonable hours ; but 
 in the long run I b'leeve I generally manage to keep a 
 level head on my shoulders. Sorry to keep you 
 waitin', Craycraft. I'm at your service. Gen-tle-men 
 your most obedient." 
 
 With a flourish of his soiled white felt hat, as a 
 fitting peroration to this oratorical display, the squire 
 shuffled down the steps after Manton, who had reached 
 the gate and was waiting for him. 
 
 The major flushed darkly at this brutal allusion to 
 Agnes, made by the man to whom her good name 
 should have been dearer than life. He threw his cigar- 
 stump to a long distance, and sat twisting and chewing 
 his thick mustache savagely. 
 
 " There's no fool like an old one, I suppose," he said 
 presently. " That one, however," he added, anxiously, 
 " has a bombshell in his hand which, if thrown, will 
 involve his own people in endless misery. He has it 
 in him to insult Faythliss on sight, and in the present 
 excited condition of the negroes there's no knowing 
 where the folly may end." 
 
 " You overrate the negro's sense of personal dig- 
 nity," said Lawyer Harris, passing his cigar-box once 
 more round the circle. " I am in hopes that your 
 friend will be able to keep the squire within bounds, 
 but if he were to carry his foolish threat of slapping 
 Sam's jaws into execution, I doubt if any thing more 
 serious than a few rough words or loud threats would
 
 ELECTION DA Y. 265 
 
 ensue. As many would laugh at Sam as be angry for 
 him, and there it would end." 
 
 Lawyer Harris was noted for the airily sanguine 
 view he took of all future possibilities. Intelligent to 
 the point of shrewdness, possessed of a clear judgment 
 and astute reasoning faculties, he was yet given to 
 prophesying the invariable coming of the rainbow after 
 every transient cloud. 
 
 " I hope you may be right and I wrong," the major 
 answered, soberly ; " nevertheless, I should feel better 
 satisfied at this moment if Thorn was safely housed at 
 Thorndale." 
 
 " Why, Denny, I believe you are nervous ! " Mr. 
 Southmead said, turning a pair of surprised eyes full 
 upon the young man's disturbed countenance. 
 
 " I believe I come as near experiencing that sensa- 
 tion just now as ever before in my life," he replied, 
 calmly. 
 
 "You are in no danger," one of the men said, with 
 cruel subtle emphasis on the pronoun. 
 
 Never had the perfect self-command of the "new 
 man " been put to a severer test. He did not care to 
 remind them that he had been not only of them but 
 with them in every thing that had touched the public 
 weal since his settlement in the county. He did not 
 care to make a boast before them that he had never 
 experienced a thrill of personal fear in all his life. He 
 did not care to reproach them by confessing to fears
 
 266 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 for their wives and children that had not yet stirred 
 their own careless pulses. He simply fixed his calm 
 gray eyes upon the last speaker for one silent second, 
 then said : 
 
 " I hope I am not." 
 
 Eut the man who had heedlessly sent that shaft into 
 his generous heart felt the fullness of the rebuke con- 
 veyed by those keen eyes and simple words, and blush- 
 ing hotly, made the amende awkwardly enough. 
 
 " Confound it, Denny, you can make a man feel 
 small enough to crawl through an auger hole." 
 
 " The major never bores one, though," says Mr. 
 Southmead, recklessly coming to the rescue with a bad 
 pun. And every body laughs in a relieved fashion. 
 
 In the meantime, Squire Thorn, leaning heavily on 
 Manton's arm, was making his way through the densely 
 packed throng of colored men that surged about the 
 court-yard impatiently awaiting the first returns from 
 the ballot-boxes. 
 
 The old man breathed in a heavy, snorting fashion, 
 bringing his cane down sonorously in unison with every 
 hard drawn breath. His face was purple with sup- 
 pressed excitement, and the hand that rested on Man- 
 ton's arm trembled perceptibly. His shaggy brows 
 almost met in the intensity of his frowning displeasure 
 at such an upheaval of the olden ways, and the eyes 
 beneath them radiated savage gleams as a red-hot fur- 
 nace radiates heat.
 
 ELECTION DAY. 267 
 
 The younger man carried himself with easy indiffer- 
 ence to the excitement. He had knocked about the 
 world too much to regard this village epoch as more 
 than a tempest in a teapot. The final outcome was a 
 matter of no importance to him. He did not share the 
 race prejudices of these people among whom he was 
 sojourning, and looked upon the universal indignation 
 among the white people at Faythliss's candidacy as a 
 weak display of passion and prejudice altogether dis- 
 proportioned to the occasion. The ignorance of the 
 candidate was the only rational objection to his elec- 
 tion, from Manton's point of view. In the meantime 
 the whole thing was immensely amusing to him the 
 best fun he'd seen, indeed, since coming to the county. 
 
 " I'd like to slay 'em, Craycraft, if I could, every 
 mother's son of 'em," the squire croaked hoarsely into 
 his companion's ear. 
 
 " I don't doubt it in the least," Manton answered, 
 laughing down into the dark and angry face by his 
 side. " What a pity the ass's jaw-bone miracle can't 
 be repeated with you for a Samson. Ah, here comes 
 Mr. Faythliss himself." 
 
 " Mr. Faythliss ! " the squire echoed, with ineffable 
 scorn. 
 
 Sam caught the courteous words, without mastering 
 
 the underlying sarcasm, and approached, radiant with 
 
 ' pride and pleasure. Raising his brand-new hat with airy 
 
 grace from its nest of radiating wool, he extended his
 
 268 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 hand in what was meant as a token of good fellowship 
 and pardon for all past offenses on the squire's part. 
 
 " How does you fin' yo'seff, squar ? " he asked, cor- 
 dially. " It does me proud t' have you tek sich a 
 frien'ly intruss in my 'lection. I ain' gwine t' forgit 
 you, boss, w'en dis rail gits to be on top. I ain' got 
 nuthin' 'gin de white folks," he magnanimously added, 
 addressing himself to Manton, " nothin' 't all. Boss, 
 here," nodding amiably toward the squire, " *sed t' be 
 tol'ble tight on his folks some times mons'ous tight 
 but he wasafa'rman in de long run. I ain' got nothin' 
 'gin de w'ite folk. Nothin' 'gin you, boss, nudder." 
 
 To stand meekly by and hear himself indorsed by one 
 of his own freed-men, to hear his own shortcomings of 
 other days generously condoned by a man whose normal 
 condition, from the squire's standpoint, was abject sub- 
 serviency to himself, was more than human flesh could 
 stand, at least more than Squire Thorn's flesh could 
 stand. Manton felt the quiver of indignation that shook 
 the old man from head to foot. The cane that he held 
 in his right hand was grasped in his hard, bony hand, 
 and raised aloft with fell intent. With all the strength 
 left him by age and lent him by wrath he brought it 
 down, and dealt the successful candidate a blow which 
 sent him reeling against the box that incased a young 
 shade tree. This impediment completed Sam's down- 
 fall, and he lay groveling in the dust at his old master's 
 feet.
 
 ELECTION DA Y. 269 
 
 " That's what you may all expect if this insult to 
 your color goes unavenged," a low voice whispered into 
 one ear in that multitude of ears. 
 
 The pebble had been thrown. The waters were 
 troubled. The circles spread and widened until they 
 reached the outside limit of that vast concourse. A 
 hundred voices roared in unison as their owners tram- 
 pled about the prostrate form : 
 
 " He's killed Sam. Faythliss is a dead man. That's 
 the way they'll do us all. Down with Sam's mur- 
 derer ! " 
 
 Twice a hundred black and inflamed faces pressed 
 close to the spot where Manton had pushed his com- 
 panion against the court-house doors, which he found 
 locked from within, and stationed himself in front of 
 him. Muscular arms were waved aloft with revengeful 
 cries, knives gleamed, sticks and stones were hurled. 
 The excitement grew more intense every second. 
 The two men were hemmed in beyond the hope of 
 escape. 
 
 " Kill him ! kill him ! He was always a hard un," 
 were the only articulate sounds. 
 
 Pallid but undaunted, Manton Craycraft reared his 
 handsome head above the surging, wavering mass. 
 With uplifted hand and voice he essayed to assuage 
 their unreasoning wrath. He implored them at least to 
 listen to him. In that supreme moment he seemed to 
 soar above every weakness that had marred his past
 
 270 THE NE IV MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 career, and proudly vindicated his brotherhood to Stir- 
 ling Denny. He was godlike in his austere composure, 
 dauntless in his quiet bravery, heroic in his resolve to 
 protect the aged and enfeebled man by his side from 
 the fury. of the mob. In vain he assured them that 
 Faythliss was only stunned ; in vain he implored them 
 to prove themselves men by acting less like brutes ; in 
 vain he laid his hand impressively upon the bowed 
 white head of the old man, who stood appalled at the 
 mischief he had wrought ; in vain he reproached them 
 with taking advantage of two unarmed men. They 
 were slow to arouse, but, once aroused, as well might 
 he have wasted his eloquence on a herd of maddened 
 buffaloes. An appeal to honor is useless where honor 
 itself has never appealed. Of the few who heard, not 
 one heeded. 
 
 "Blood!" 
 
 The sentiment of the multitude resolved itself into 
 that one sullen roar. 
 
 " If blood you must have," Manton cried once more, 
 baring his beautiful head in a final appeal, " spare 
 that old man's, and take mine ! Spare his gray hairs ! 
 Kill me, if nothing less will quench your blood-thirst, 
 and may the Lord have mercy upon your wretched 
 souls ! " 
 
 "Blood!" 
 
 That one word was all that sounded clearly above 
 the uproar of yells, groans, execrations ! The demon
 
 ELECTION DA Y. 271 
 
 of hatred was let loose. A pretext was all that was 
 wanted. It had been given in the blow struck the 
 sacred person of their candidate. He had been borne 
 out of sight, senseless and bleeding. Blood for his 
 blood ! 
 
 " Blood ! " 
 
 A thousand voices repeated the devilish command. 
 A thousand upraised arms struggled in frenzied effort 
 to reach the rash offender. One rash, brutal, remorse- 
 less thrust appeased the demand of the multitude and 
 Manton Craycraft fell at the squire's feet, with the rich 
 blood of his strong young life spouting in a crimson 
 tide from his heart. 
 
 " Spare the old man's life ! " he gasped, and fell. 
 
 " Spare the old man's life ! " Rufus Upps repeated 
 the words commandingly, and vanished. 
 
 The author of all this woe dropped in an agony of 
 useless remorse on his knees by the dying man. 
 
 " Tell Agnes good-by for me," he said, in a clear, 
 strong voice, then closed his bright eyes forever upon 
 the world that he had used and misused according to 
 his own wayward fancy, but from which he made his 
 exit in grandly heroic style. 
 
 As the mountain stream, suddenly swelled by storms, 
 runs its course madly and quickly, so the wild, unrea- 
 soning rage of the creatures who had done this cruel 
 thing swiftly ran its course, and left them palsied at 
 what they had done.
 
 272 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 By one consent the wrathful crowd melted away 
 with the swiftness of magic. The day was well-nigh 
 spent. The sun had reached the western horizon, and, 
 lifting the curtain of gray clouds that had hung before 
 his face all the short, sad day, cast one lurid glance 
 upon the earth before consigning it to the black gloom 
 of the coming night. That lurid beam fell upon the 
 still, white face of Manton Craycraft where he lay 
 stretched upon the green grass of the court-yard, 
 awaiting the mockery of a coroner's inquest, and upon 
 a solemn group of sad men, chief among whom was 
 Stirling Denny, who, with folded arms, and face almost 
 as white and still as the face he gazed down upon, said, 
 in a voice that thrilled with the agony of a brother's 
 grief : 
 
 " Father, forgive them ; they knew not what they 
 did."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 LOTTIE, THE VOUDOO QUEEN. 
 
 r "P HAT same lurid gleam of fading sunlight shot 
 J[ athwart the lake from under its leaden canopy 
 of clouds, and touched the leafless branches of the 
 trees in the yard at Thorndale with a pallid, transient 
 glory, gilding the small-paned windows that looked out 
 upon the western side of the house, where Mrs. Thorn 
 sat alone, as usual, awaiting her husband's return with 
 a feeling akin to interest. 
 
 The dull, dead monotony of her days rendered any 
 thing out of the regular routine interesting. This local 
 election had stirred the pulses of the entire neighbor- 
 hood, irrespective of age or color or sex. She was 
 naturally anxious to know how it had gone. 
 
 Since that strange but evident avoidance of her in 
 church that June Sunday, Mrs. Thorn had made no 
 effort to sustain friendly or even social relations with 
 the few planters' families within her reach. With a 
 woman's keen perceptive powers in such matters, she 
 had attributed the coolness she could not help notic- 
 ing to malicious gossip concerning herself, and shrank 
 from offering herself again as a target. In view of the
 
 274 THE NE W MA N AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 hopelessness of putting herself right before a lot of 
 people who had shown themselves cruelly prompt to 
 jump to damaging conclusions, she simply ignored the 
 gossip and the gossipers, and aimed at making herself 
 entirely independent of the outside world. A dreary 
 undertaking, in which she achieved a dreary success. 
 
 So it had come to pass finally that Squire Thorn 
 never found occasion to complain of his wife's propen- 
 sity to "gad," but found her developing a degree of 
 domesticity that filled his bucolic soul with delight. 
 
 But the night had come, and work, that greatest of 
 all panaceas for a sick and wearied heart, was no longer 
 possible even as a refuge. Agnes folded the cup- 
 towel she was hemming, and looked up at the clock. 
 It was half-past seven, and she felt surprised. Punc- 
 tuality was a prime virtue with Squire Thorn, and he 
 had told her that he would be back by six, enjoining 
 her to have something extra for his supper. She 
 walked to the dining-room and gave a glance over 
 the tea-table to see if it was all right, stepped to the 
 back door, and calling across the dark yard toward 
 the fire-lighted kitchen, warned Lucy against letting 
 things get cold, then walked out to the front steps to 
 listen. Jim had taken the squire to the village that 
 morning in the skiff. Old Whitey had enjoyed a free 
 day, and she could see him moving like a clumsy ghost 
 out among the yard trees, grazing on the short grass 
 still to be found in the sheltered fence corners. She
 
 LOTTIE, THE VOUDOO QUEEN. 275 
 
 knew Jim's long, rhythmic oar-stroke well. She had 
 often kept time to it with a wordless melody when he 
 had been rowing her on the lake. It was slow, delib- 
 erate, reliable as Jim himself was. But on this night 
 she made more than one restless pilgrimage from her 
 room to the sitting-room where the clock was slowly 
 pointing off the unexplained moments of the squire's 
 delay, back to the front door again, before she heard 
 it. It came at last ! Slowly, deliberately, rhythmi- 
 cally, the sound of oars dipping into the water, then 
 feathering its surface with a softly musical ripple that 
 came distinctly to her in the stillness of the night. 
 There was no mistaking that steady stroke. It was 
 Jim. She heard the boat grate upon the sandy bank 
 presently, and the oars drop with noisy clatter upon 
 the bottom of the skiff. 
 
 That was not at all like Jim. It was his methodical 
 habit to shoulder the oars on landing, bring them to 
 the house, and deposit them always in the same spot 
 under the front steps. She had placed a lighted lamp 
 on the hall table, and the front walk was illuminated 
 by it nearly to the gate. Up this lighted pathway she 
 presently saw Jim advancing toward her alone! A 
 nameless anxiety seized upon her at the sight. 
 
 " Is that you, Jim ? " she asked, by way of precipita- 
 ting any information he had to give. 
 
 " Ya-a-sm ! hit's me, Miss Aggy." 
 
 " Where is Mr, Thorn ? " she asked, as he stood
 
 276 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 before her, hat in hand, evidently laboring under great 
 and hardly suppressed excitement. 
 
 " He he's all right, Miss Aggy, but but he won' 
 be home t'night, mos' like. He's all right, doa' ! " 
 
 " Not coming home to-night ! What does that 
 mean? " she asked, sharply. 
 
 " Well, well, he's all right, Miss Aggy. But but, 
 Missy, did you keer much fur much for t'other one? 
 Wuz he yo' ve'y 'tickler frien'? You know old boss 
 sot a heapin' store by him Mr. Craycraf he did." 
 
 A sharp pain seized upon Agnes Thorn's heart. A 
 film seemed to gather over her eyes, but her voice was 
 as clear as a bell as she asked : 
 
 "What do you mean, Jim? If you have any bad 
 news to tell me, tell it straight out and be done with 
 it." 
 
 " Missy, dar's trubble over yonder." He nodded 
 toward the village. " Mr. Manton, he's a-lyin' on de 
 grass in de co't yard, col' en white en stiff. No mo' 
 trubble fur him. Old Marsa wuz a-kneelin* by his side 
 a-moanin' en a-axin' him t'come back. Dar's trubble 
 in his heart. Sam Faythliss is de shurff uv de county, 
 but his 'lection has cos' blood a'ready. Dar's misery in 
 his buzz'm. En de worst uv de trouble ain' over wid 
 yit. Missy, dar's mischief in de a'r. I wants to see 
 you safe out'n harm's way, Missy, 'fore I goes back up 
 yonder. Dar's a big sight o' trubble brewin' over dar 
 dis night."
 
 LOTTIE, THE VOUDOO QUEEN. 277 
 
 From these many words Agnes seemed to have 
 grasped but one idea. She had walked slowly back- 
 ward into the hall, and now stood with the lamplight 
 falling full upon her blanched face. 
 
 " Is Mr. Manton Craycraft dead, Jim?" she asked. 
 
 " Dead, Miss Agnes, en may God A'mighty have 
 mussy on de souls uv dem which is his slayers." 
 
 He raised his hand impressively toward heaven, and 
 stood before the stricken woman with reverently bared 
 head. 
 
 "Dead! My love! my dear!" Nature would not 
 be denied in that supreme moment of her agony. 
 
 " En he died to save the old man," Jim said, softly. 
 
 Agnes folded her hands with pathetic patience and 
 stood with her large, tearless eyes bent upon his agi- 
 tated face. 
 
 " Tell me all, Jim. It was good of you to think of 
 me so promptly. I had rather you had the telling of 
 it than anyone else. Tell me all." 
 
 And he told her all. 
 
 But when the dismal story had been told, with all its 
 harrowing details, she stood before him with her hands 
 still folded in pathetic patience, and her large, tearless 
 . eyes still bent hungrily upon him. 
 
 "She did keer," Jim said pityingly to himself, then 
 to her, " Miss Aggy, please m'am, cry. Don' stan' thar 
 starin' so col' en still lak. Cry, please, my sweet mis- 
 sus, or you'll break po' ole Jim's heart."
 
 278 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Instead of tears, a wintry smile lighted up the sad 
 eyes of his mistress. Even then she could accept this 
 humble devotion gratefully. 
 
 A wild, victorious, prolonged, swelling yell, as of 
 many voices in unison, smote upon the stillness of the 
 outer darkness, and echoed through the quiet house. 
 Again and again that yell, and the quick trampling of 
 many hoofs. It startled the squire's wife from her 
 stony composure. 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 But Jim made no answer. Casting one hurried glance 
 about, he seized a large traveling shawl that lay on the 
 lounge in the hall, and, wrapping it about Agnes until 
 she was completely enveloped in it, he seized her in his 
 arms with a hurried explanation, given in a pleading 
 voice : 
 
 "Trus' yo' nigger Jim, Miss Aggy he's gwinet' put 
 you in safety." 
 
 She felt the cold night air strike through the shawl 
 as Jim strode across the rough ground of the 
 yard, carrying her as easily as if she had been a 
 baby. 
 
 She heard him, after a hurried tramp of five minutes 
 probably, give a vigorous kick against an unbolted 
 door and the next moment she was placed upon her 
 feet in the middle of the floor of a cabin, which, 
 although it was on her husband's place, she knew of 
 only by hearsay. It belonged to old Lottie, the
 
 LOTTIE, THE VOUDOO QUEEN. 279 
 
 conjurer or Voudoo queen, as she was called by her 
 own color. 
 
 Jim approached the fireplace where Lottie was seated 
 on a low stool, stewing something in an iron skillet set 
 upon the glowing coals. His tempestuous entrance 
 had not attracted her attention as she sat with her back 
 to the door. She was very deaf. 
 
 " Mammy! " he called, then put his mouth close to 
 her ear to repeat, " Mammy ! " 
 
 She turned upward a face mild and benevolent 
 enough in expression to give immediate contradiction to 
 the charge of witchcraft or any thing uncanny about 
 her to any one less benighted than a negro. 
 
 " Well, chile, w'at you want, Jim ? 1'se mos' gone, 
 Jim. I'se jus' bilin' me a little fennel, son, dey do say 
 some is ben he'p'd by it." She wheezed like a con- 
 firmed asthmatic, and shook the skillet that contained 
 her decoction. 
 
 " Mammy," said Jim, turning her forcibly around to 
 face Agnes, " I've brought de boss's wife here for you 
 to take keer of until I fotch ole marster home hisseff. 
 Our folks is done turn fool, mammy, en der's lots uv 
 trubble a-brewin' up yonder. Miss Aggy's safe wid 
 you, mammy." 
 
 Lottie got up from her low stool with the courtesy 
 of a lady, and placed her best hide-bottomed chair close 
 by the yawning chimney-place, saying, as she turned 
 her mild eyes on the master's wife :
 
 280 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 " You's mo'n welcome, mistus. Sit you down, deary. 
 I'se ben wantin' to see you dis long time, but I'se pas' 
 gittin' up t' big house." Then to Jim, as if taking up 
 his thought : " I knows it, chile. I ben feelin' it in my 
 bones dis long time. Dar's blood on de moon, Jim ! " 
 
 Agnes shivered and recoiled. Heavens! was this 
 the only refuge she could find ? These two her only 
 friends ? 
 
 Jim caught the action, and hastened to reassure 
 her. 
 
 "Miss Aggy, please, m'am, don't be afeard. Ef wil' 
 dogs were arter a nigger, en dis room were his only 
 show fur 'scapin' dem, he'd tek his chances wid de dogs 
 fus'. Mammy's a good ole ooman. She wouldn't let a 
 ha'r uv yo' head be hurt, nor nobody else's, but 'kase 
 she's ole, en sorter rickity en tizicky, en b'iles pipes en 
 dog-fennel en udder truck fur de mis'ry in her lungs, 
 dese fools uv niggers 'lows dat she has dealin's wid Ole 
 Nick, en dey's worse feared uv her den dey is uv de ole 
 debbil hisseff. You is safe here, Miss Aggy. Mammy'll 
 take de best sort uv keer uv yer, en Jim wouldn't 'ceive 
 you fur all de Ian' in de bed uv dis lake." 
 
 " Thank you, Jim. I know you wouldn't." But she 
 shivered once more as the distant yell of the excited 
 and inflamed negroes, galloping wildly in every direc- 
 tion on their mules, floated to her ears. 
 
 "Ole Lottie ain' so ole nur good-fur-nuthin' but w'at 
 she can tek keer uv you to-night, purty chile. Jim,
 
 LOTTIE, THE VOUDOO QUEEN. 281 
 
 spread yo' missus' shawl over de back er dat cha'r en 
 put dat strip er carpetin' down fur her foots." 
 
 Jim obeyed both orders, spreading the shawl so as to 
 exclude the draughts from the many chinks in the 
 cabin wall. Agnes dropped wearily on the chair. 
 
 " Now den, git you gone," said old Lottie peremp- 
 torily, to her stalwart son, " en don' you come back 
 widout de squar." 
 Jim came back from the door to ask anxiously: 
 
 " You ain' skeered or nothin', is you, Miss Aggy ? " 
 
 She turned her tearless eyes up to him and said, 
 slowly : " No, Jim, not afraid not afraid of any thing. 
 You can go." 
 
 " You's mighty right, chile," says old Lottie, com- 
 fortably settling down once more on her low stool; 
 "dar ain' nuthin' to be skeert uv now. Ole Lottie's all 
 right, you's all right, ole Mars' 's all right, en my Jim's 
 all right ; but dar's blood on de moon all de same, my 
 chile." 
 
 Jim was gone, and Agnes was alone with old Lottie, 
 the Voudoo queen, who was a terror to her own color 
 and a jest to the white people who knew her or of her. 
 
 She had been born as a slave on the squire's place. 
 She had the height and muscular development of a large 
 man, and, despite the fact that she had been a useless 
 invalid for many years, she retained enough flesh on her 
 large frame to preserve her from gauntness. Of a light 
 griff complexion, her features were unusually intelligent
 
 282 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 and pleasing in expression. It was from her that Jim 
 had inherited his gentle and affectionate nature. Lot- 
 tie's days " since freedom " had been devoted almost 
 exclusively to experiments with every procurable herb, 
 in a vain effort to find some palliative for her terrible 
 complaint. Her cabin shelves were loaded down with 
 unlabeled bottles, that Lottie nosed at when deciding 
 their individual excellences. It was this pursuit and 
 its evil-smelling results that had gained for her the 
 reputation of being a "cunger" woman. 
 
 " You ain' col', honey, is you ? " she asked, as Agnes 
 drew her chair closer to the log fire and spread her white 
 hands out over the skillet. They were trembling and 
 so was she. 
 
 "No," she said, absently, " I'm not cold, Aunt Lot- 
 tie." 
 
 "Nor skeert?" 
 
 " No, nor scared." 
 
 " Den you's sleepy, honey. Dat's w'at's de matter." 
 And Lottie looked deprecatingly toward the humble 
 bed which she knew the mistress could not lie upon. 
 "It's a shame you's ben pestered so to-night. I'll fix 
 dem niggers ! " She chuckled audibly. It was evident 
 Lottie enjoyed her reputation as a sorceress and made 
 capital of it. 
 
 "You were singing when I came in, Lottie. I think 
 if you'll just not mind me, but go on as if I were not 
 here, I should like it better," Agnes said, very gently.
 
 LOTTIE, THE VOUDOO QUEEN. 283 
 
 And Lottie complied, with true courtesy. Addressing 
 herself once more to the contents of her skillet, she 
 picked up the weird ditty she had dropped when Jim 
 aroused her, and crooned it softly while she stirred the 
 mixture of dog-fennel and red-oak bark. The wild 
 melody of it wove itself in and about the somber woof 
 of the melancholy reverie that engaged such powers of 
 reflection as were left to Agnes. The light from the 
 burning ash logs in the sunken hearth was the only 
 light in the cabin. The flames danced upon the rude 
 floor, playing fantastic tricks with the shadows of the 
 two women who sat before it in such strange and un- 
 equal companionship. 
 
 Agnes was stunned beyond the possibility of con- 
 nected or intelligent thought. She bore with her 
 through all her after life a vivid recollection of the con- 
 fused medley that passed for thought with her on that 
 fateful night as she sat by the dancing flame-light in old 
 Lottie's cabin. 
 
 Manton Craycraft was dead ! Distinct and horrible 
 that one fact stood out. He had been brutally mur- 
 dered. Why, she had not yet come to understand. 
 What a statuesque object Lottie was, with her strong 
 profile outlined by the blazing logs, and her white- 
 turbaned head set so firmly on her massive shoulders. 
 Poor Manton ! She had been hard with him in that 
 last decisive interview. He would never anger her 
 again. If her husband was all right, as Jim insisted,
 
 284 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 why did he not come to protect her from the nameless 
 horrors of that night ? How sickening the smell from 
 that skillet. Dog-fennel was that woolly, flannely- 
 leaved thing that grew so thick in the fence corners. 
 She wondered if it really was good for asthma. What 
 was the trouble that was brewing? Were the rest 
 of the white women being cared for as she was ? 
 Why had they killed Manton ? What had they 
 against him? He had always been so merry and 
 friendly with the blacks. Did no one but Jim 
 care to protect her from danger? If Lottie would 
 only fall asleep. If day would only break. Was 
 Stirling Denny caring for Ursula Ralston this frightful 
 night ? Some of these days she expected to hear of 
 their being married. If Lottie's mixture tasted as 
 badly as it smelted, she would rather have asthma than 
 swallow it. But through it all ran the wail Dead ! 
 Dead! Beyond hope of recall ! Beyond power to anger! 
 Why had she not been as safe in her own house as in 
 this lonely cabin ? What mattered it whether she were 
 safe anywhere or not ? Life had proved such a dreary 
 failure. She had meant always to do her duty, in what- 
 ever station in life it had pleased God to place her. 
 Why did Providence make the path of duty so thorny? 
 What manner of man could her husband be, to have 
 her endure all this alone ? Poor Manton ! so young and 
 so strong, a sacrifice to what? 
 
 Her eyes never left the flickering flames of the ash
 
 LOTTIE, THE VOUDOO QUEEN. 285 
 
 logs. Her hands twined themselves restlessly about 
 the long ends of the black ribbons that fell in a cas- 
 cade from the front of her overskirt. She absorbed 
 old Lottie's crooning so that the melody of it dwelt in 
 her memory for all time to come. The ashen logs 
 burned low. The decoction was set aside softly by old 
 Lottie as if fearful of frightening slumber from the 
 wide, dry eyes of the master's wife. The old woman's 
 hands were folded in her ample lap ; her mild, dark 
 eyes closed ; the white-turbaned head fell forward on 
 her breast ; the weird melody was hushed. A rooster 
 crowed in the far distance, heralding a morrow to that 
 tragic yesterday. A cold, gray beam of pallid light 
 found its way slowly through the open logs of the 
 cabin wall. The horrors of the night melted into the 
 suspense of another day. The logs fell apart, and the 
 ashes grew cold. With clasped hands and white lids 
 closed, Agnes too slept and forgot for a little while.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 WHEN Manton Craycraft came to his tragic and 
 most causeless death, Jim had been at a remote 
 shanty in the end of the village furthest from the court- 
 house, refreshing the inner-man on a cold sweet-potato 
 pie, washed down with generous libations of butter- 
 milk, delicacies in which a lady of saffron hue and 
 ample proportions drove a flourishing business during 
 court term, or whenever any abnormal condition of 
 affairs swelled the population of the village from its 
 permanent tens to transient hundreds. 
 
 He never ceased to reproach himself for his absence 
 from the squire's side at the moment when the old man 
 so insanely precipitated the catastrophe. 
 
 " I mout er pacified de ole man, an' 'a' saved de 
 young 'un," Jim was wont to say for a long time after. 
 " 'Twarn't no use foolin' wid a passel er half-drunk, 
 half-crazy niggers, nohow ; " and he heaped upon him- 
 self useless and unmerited reproaches for not being on 
 hand as a pacificator. 
 
 The news had flown to him with the proverbial 
 swiftness and sureness of ill-tidings, and by the time
 
 A WORD IN SEASON. 287 
 
 he reached the court-house the crowd had swelled into 
 a densely packed mass of men and women, dark-hued, 
 sullen-browed, restless, and vindictive, uttering wild and 
 senseless threats of revenge for fancied insults from 
 imaginary foes in an ignorant aimless fashion. One 
 desire in common possessed the mob. That was for 
 "one good look" at the cold still form, which, laid 
 upon a stretcher and the stretcher raised upon trestles, 
 made a mournfully conspicuous nucleus for the crowd. 
 It was by Stirling Denny's orders that the body had 
 thus been disposed of. He desired it should not be 
 removed indoors. Major Denny's simplest desire car- 
 ried with it the weight of a command to the ignorant 
 blacks, who, regarding him as the visible exponent of 
 those principles that had rescued them from bondage, 
 worshiped him accordingly. 
 
 When the horrible story of his brother's assassination 
 had reached the office where Stirling Denny sat dis- 
 cussing the probable moral effect of Faythliss's elec- 
 tion, he had listened to it in a sort of stunned surprise. 
 He had pictured to himself a variety of catastrophes 
 that might accrue from any imprudence on the part of 
 the hot-headed old man who had involved them all in 
 this trouble ; but that Manton, his rollicking, reckless, 
 laughing brother, should have been the victim selected 
 to appease the insensate wrath of a brutalized mob 
 seemed so illogical a conclusion that at first he could 
 not embrace the horrible reality.
 
 288 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 " What did you say ? Tell it all over again slowly," 
 he had demanded of the bearer of the evil tidings. 
 " You are excited. Speak slowly. We want to know 
 exactly all that you can tell us." His own voice was 
 low, calm and stern. 
 
 The bearer repeated his story, not slowly nor calmly. 
 He was a white man, a father and a husband, who was 
 in mad haste to urge the foam-flecked horse he bestrode 
 over six miles of rough country roads to take him 
 where he could protect his family from whatsoever was 
 yet to come. Stunned silence succeeded his second 
 telling. 
 
 " Assassinated. Poor Manton ! Is this the finale ? 
 Is it so you cease from troubling? " 
 
 Stirling had stood for a second after uttering these 
 words aloud with folded arms and his head dropped 
 upon his breast. In that short period of physical inac- 
 tion his mind had swept with swift retrospection over 
 the career of the brother who, in some shape or another, 
 had been a source of anxiety to all connected with him 
 from his earliest boyhood. 
 
 " But his death was grand ! It was an expiation ! " 
 he said, with a ring of triumph in his voice, as he raised 
 his head and looked into the troubled faces of the men 
 grouped about him in silent sympathy for his one out- 
 burst of sorrow. " Such a death covereth a multitude 
 of sins." He was unconsciously defending his dead, 
 whom no man accused.
 
 A WORD IN SEASON. 289 
 
 " You knew him well? He was an old friend, was he 
 not?" some one asked. 
 
 Then Stirling bethought himself of the uselessness 
 of now making known the deception that Manton had 
 considered necessary in life. If need be, he would let 
 them all know how near this blow had struck himself, 
 but not causelessly. 
 
 " Yes, I knew him well. I have known him always. " 
 Then he turned, and, taking his hat from the rack, 
 stared into the crown of it mechanically for a full 
 second, put it on, and started slowly in the direction 
 of the gate. 
 
 Mr. Southmead followed him, and laid a detaining 
 hand on his arm as he asked : 
 
 "Where are you going, Denny?" 
 
 " Up yonder. I think perhaps I shall be needed. I 
 must look after it!" He shuddered. Poor Manton! 
 All that physical exuberance, that mental brightness, 
 that redundancy of life, resolved into a ghastly It ! 
 
 Mr. Southmead noted the blazing eyes and the 
 scarcely suppressed excitement of the young man with 
 grave uneasiness. 
 
 " Surely Thorn will have the decency " 
 
 But the major interrupted him sharply : 
 
 " It is my sole charge. He was my guest. I must 
 see that his assassin is arrested, if he has not already 
 escaped. You," he added, embracing the entire group 
 with a wave of his hand, " had best hasten to your
 
 zpo THE NE IV MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 homes. There are lonely and anxious women in every 
 one of them, except in mine. I am in no danger," he 
 said, letting his eyes rest for a moment on the man who 
 had taunted him some little while back. 
 
 " Denny!" Mr. Southmead tightened his hold upon 
 the arm of his friend, " take my advice for once. I 
 know it's not worth much to you from a practical point 
 of view, but I am better acquainted with these people 
 than you possibly can be. Any attempt to bring the 
 murderer of your friend to justice by arresting him 
 to-night will be to jeopardize the life of every man in 
 this community. These creatures are not vindictive. 
 They do not bear malice. They have been incited to 
 this hellish deed by those who have used them as tools 
 for their own revengeful ends. But, once aroused, 
 these people are as devoid of reason as any wild beast 
 of the jungle. A blind, brutal impulse drove that knife 
 into Manton Craycraft's breast. At this moment they 
 are intoxicated with the triumph of Sam's election. 
 Liberty means license with them. Power means privi- 
 lege. In their ignorance they imagine that in electing 
 one of their own color to be sheriff they have secured 
 immunity from punishment. To-night is not the time 
 to teach them differently. Give their volatile passion 
 time to subside, Denny. We could not spare 
 you ! " 
 
 "Thank you, Southmead, for that last sentence. But 
 you mistake my intention if you imagine for a moment
 
 A WORD IN SEASON. 291 
 
 that I am likely to add fuel to this fire. You ought to 
 know me better," he said, with a smile of intense sad- 
 ness, holding his friend's hand in a firm, close grasp. 
 " I blame myself bitterly foa having held aloof. We 
 have all erred in leaving these local matters so entirely 
 in the hands of these miserable adventurers. And 
 this is the result." He turned from them and 
 walked with quick decision in the direction of the 
 court-house. 
 
 " We can do no good by following him," Mr. Harris 
 said, breaking the solemn stillness that had fallen upon 
 the little group. " His advice is good. We are all 
 forgetting the women, who will be in agonies of sus- 
 pense if a rumor of this thing reaches them before -we 
 do. It is probable that we will all have to leave the 
 neighborhood." 
 
 " May God protect our mortal foe ! " said George 
 Southmead, raising his hat reverently from his 
 head. 
 
 And a solemn "Amen " fell from every lip. 
 
 By the time Jim Doakes unlettered but chivalric 
 Jim neared the village again, after having placed his 
 mistress in safety, it was past ten 'o'clock. The night 
 was one of extreme darkness and oppressive stillness. 
 He could hardly see a boat's length from his own skiff 
 in any direction, but he could hear the dip of oars on 
 every side, commingling with the soft splash of the 
 single-paddled canoe and the bumping of the flat-bot-
 
 292 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 tomed scows. Every description of craft that could be 
 found was conveying through the blackness of the 
 night fresh material to swell the surging, restless, 
 tumultuous throng about the court-house. Excited 
 voices called across the dark waters from boat to boat, 
 demanding tidings, exchanging prophecies, foretelling 
 woes, singing snatches of triumphant songs, reveling 
 in unbridled discussion and a large sense of personal 
 liberty. 
 
 The landing reached, Jim moored his boat to a stake 
 among a multitude of other craft of every shape and 
 size, and went with the crowd to where a couple of 
 brilliant bonfires, lighted to celebrate Mr. Faythliss's 
 election, illumined the court-yard. Elbowing his way 
 recklessly toward the center, he soon stood within 
 hearing of Stirling Denny's voice as it rang out over 
 the heads of the gathered multitude. 
 
 The young man stood upon the court-house steps, 
 not a pace removed from his sheeted dead. It 
 was a scene never to be forgotten by those who 
 saw it. 
 
 The blackness of the heavens was intensified by the 
 lurid glare of the bonfires alight on both sides the 
 walk. The red-brick of the building, brought into 
 bright relief by the same fierce light, served as a strong 
 background to Stirling Denny's erect form and noble 
 head as he stood with it bared to the night air and 
 called upon these men, who outnumbered him a
 
 A WORD fN SEASON. 293 
 
 thousand to one, to pause and reflect upon the mon- 
 strous cruelty of Manton Craycraft's taking off. 
 
 " To-day," he said, in a clear, strong, fearless voice, 
 " there has been accorded you the high privilege of 
 electing from your own ranks a conservator of the 
 laws. To-day you have trampled under foot, in the 
 most brutal and causeless frenzy, the majesty of those 
 laws. To-day your hearts have swelled at the first 
 public recognition of your rights as citizens. To-day 
 you have proved yourselves no more fit for the exercise 
 of those rights than the beasts that brought you here 
 to deposit your votes. You aspire to be considered 
 our brothers and our equals. You conspire together 
 to do a deed that would damn a demon, and consign 
 him to the lowest pits of hell. See your work. Think 
 of it ! Ponder upon it when you go to your homes ! 
 Ponder upon it when you lie down to sleep ! Think 
 of it with every breath you draw ! Think of the das- 
 tardly blow you struck, and deprived an innocent man 
 of the life and strength you prize so dearly, sending 
 him to the grave in the flush of his young manhood ! 
 What had he done to you ? You, who call yourselves 
 men. What had he done but try to shield a tottering 
 old man from the savage wrath of a thousand brutes ? 
 Brutes, I repeat the word. Yes, I hear your hisses, I hear 
 your groans, I stand here alone among you. I do not 
 see but one white face in all this surging throng. Yes 
 I was wrong I do. Another white face, a cold white
 
 294 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 face. Stony in its stillness. It is the face of your 
 victim. But he is powerless now to reproach you, or 
 to succor me, should the demon within you demand 
 more blood. You have called me your friend. You 
 have pretended a devotion for me that I would spurn 
 as I would a reptile, if I did not believe you would 
 repent most bitterly of this night's work. Do not 
 think this matter ends here. You have killed a man 
 who never owned a slave, never trafficked in human 
 flesh, never harmed you nor one of your race by word, 
 thought, or deed. You have killed a man who offered 
 his life for your liberty, and fought the war of the 
 rebellion out from end to end. Slain him brutally, 
 savagely, senselessly ! But the end is not yet come. 
 You may slay me, too, for with every reproach I hurl 
 at you I give you ten thousand times more provocation 
 to murder me than he did in his whole life. But the 
 end would not come then. You may silence every 
 voice that shall be raised in righteous wrath at this 
 day's foul work, but the end will not be yet ! Behind 
 the offender is the offense. Behind the offense is 
 the law. Behind the law are the men who have 
 sworn to Almighty God to uphold it in all its 
 majesty and dignity. Behind their oath is that God 
 whose name is invoked to give them weight, and so 
 surely as that God is the God of justice, as surely as 
 that God lives, you shall suffer for this day's work. I 
 hear your groans. They are wrung from terror, not
 
 A WORD IN SEASON. 295 
 
 contrition. I see you slinking away into the darkness 
 that lies beyond the fires you kindled to celebrate your 
 triumph as citizens. Can you slink away from the 
 darkness that is in your souls this night ? Can you 
 find a spot in all this green earth where the memory of 
 this deed will not haunt you ? Only one of you did 
 this thing, you are wanting to say to me. Only one 
 hand held the knife that spilled the blood now staining 
 the grass under your feet. But every man that joined 
 in the mad uproar that nerved that hand was as much 
 a murderer as he. Yes, murderers. A thousand 
 cowardly murderers to silence one .brave voice pleading 
 for an old man's life. Men, this is but a poor begin- 
 ning of your career as citizens. You have forfeited the 
 title to be called men. There is but one extenuating 
 circumstance to the horror of your guilt that is, your 
 profound ignorance. You have had evil counselors 
 men who knew better, but who used you for their own 
 wicked purposes. I hope they may be within sound of 
 my words. That dead man was my friend. I cared 
 for him in life, I shall care for him in death. His 
 slayer shall not go unpunished. I do not know the 
 name of the man who struck that fatal blow ; I do not 
 ask you to give it to me. I do not ask you to give 
 the names of those who have tried to make you see in 
 your old masters enemies, rather than your friends. 
 The men whose lands you till, whose ready sympathy 
 you call for in the time of sickness and trouble, and get.
 
 296 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 I demand of you the names of the evil counselors who 
 have tried to inflame you to hatred by reminding you 
 of the hardships and injustice that fell to your lot 
 when slaves. The man you have killed to-day 
 was born where I was. *He helped to give you your 
 freedom ; you have given him death ! I warn you 
 against arraying yourselves as black men against white 
 men. You have purposely been misled into thinking 
 you can better your lot by violent means. What do 
 you propose to do next? You have a sheriff of your 
 own color and selection. Before that sheriff can offi- 
 ciate, he takes the most binding oath to maintain law 
 and order. Do you imagine he can protect you in 
 your lawlessness ? I pity your ignorance. And while 
 I abhor you for the deed you have done, I pity you 
 enough to advise you as a friend. Go back to your 
 homes go back to your every-day labors. Forget the 
 bad advice you have swallowed only too eagerly ; make 
 yourselves worthy of the confidence and respect of the 
 men among whom you have lived all your lives. Their 
 interests are your interests. Do not try to crowd into 
 a day the work of years. It is the work of years to 
 educate yourselves into fitness for the positions that 
 now make you ridiculous. Sam Faythliss, as an up- 
 right, capable lessee of Mr. Harris's land, was an ob- 
 ject of respect and liking to every one, myself in- 
 cluded ; Sam Faythliss, as a helpless, ignorant, inca- 
 pable sheriff is an object of scorn and derision to
 
 A WORD IN SEASON. 297 
 
 every one, myself included. He will have to be helped 
 in the routine of his office, and he will have to go to a 
 white man for that help not to the white men who 
 have been whispering poisonous lies into your ears for 
 months past 
 
 " Dey done leff a'ready ! " said an excited voice in 
 the crowd. 
 
 " Who has left ? " 
 
 " Boss Upps en boss Gays ! " shouted a dozen voices. 
 
 " Why did they leave? " 
 
 " Skeerd, I reckin." 
 
 A profound silence followed, broken finally by Stir- 
 ling's concluding words. 
 
 " The wicked flee when no man pursueth. I charge 
 you disperse, and return to your homes quietly and 
 soberly. I shall not leave this spot until you have 
 shown whether you are "sorry for what you have done. 
 If you remain massed here, I shall summon the officers 
 of the law to arrest every man found within this court- 
 yard at the time of Manton Craycraft's murder." He 
 deliberately took out his watch and held it in his 
 hands. " Five minutes to choose between dispersion 
 or arrest ! " 
 
 They did not doubt for a moment his perfect ability 
 to carry his threat of wholesale arrest into execution. 
 He had aroused their benumbed consciences to a 
 spasm of remorse for their brutality. Their leaders 
 and counselors were already beyond reach of harm.
 
 298 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Conscience did not lash them with over-severity, but 
 the brute instinct of self-preservation dictated com- 
 pliance and conciliation. A restless movement agitated 
 the close-packed mass of humanity. It increased, and 
 the ranks opened on every side. With the suddenness 
 of magic the crowd stirred, thinned, vanished. 
 
 Before half an hour expired, Stirling Denny, the 
 stricken squire, and Jim Doakes alone remained by 
 Manton's bier. Jim and the major lifted it and bore it 
 into the office behind them. The old man followed 
 with a feeble, tottering step. In vain they urged upon 
 him that he ought to go back to Thorndale, back to his 
 wife. He looked at them stupidly, and said : 
 
 " She don't need me, she can't help me. She warn't 
 kind to him," pointing to the shrouded form. " I 
 might say something hard to her if I saw her now. 
 He cared enough for me to give his life for me. I 
 wasn't worth it, but he done it all the same." And on 
 his knees by the bier he mourned as David of old 
 mourned over Absalom. 
 
 " Mr. Major," said Jim timidly, when their task was 
 done, " please, sir, I'd like to shake your hand. You 
 saved our w'ite folks from de wrath of heaven oncet, 
 w'en de floods was a threatenin' uv us, an you've saved 
 'em ag'in from worse. I'd like to tech yo' hand." 
 And the two men clasped friends' hands across Man- 
 ton's bier.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE. MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 FOLLOWING at one and the same time the major's 
 advice and the desire of their own hearts, the 
 men whom Stirling had left behind him promptly took 
 their departure by diverging roads for their own homes. 
 A sense of painful uncertainty filled every breast. 
 This matter might possibly flame into a riot of alarm- 
 ing proportions, or it might end with that one victim 
 to an outburst of senseless wrath. There was no tell- 
 ing. It was impossible to predicate the probabilities 
 of to-morrow from the act of to-day, where a people so 
 totally devoid of stability or the power of concentrated 
 thought was concerned. 
 
 The white men were afraid to trust themselves to 
 any sort of action in the matter. Their indignation 
 and fierce wrath were so largely in the ascendant, and 
 the habit of unbridled expression still so strong upon 
 them, that no good could possibly come of their presence 
 among the engaged negroes, and more harm might 
 accrue. 
 
 It was nearly midnight by the time Mr. Southmead 
 turned the door handle of his own bedroom, where the
 
 300 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 lamp was burning low on the hearth, where Mrs. South- 
 mead had placed it before going to bed, having " freed 
 her mind " several times during the evening on the sub- 
 ject of men not being able to go to the village for what 
 ought to keep them an hour, without making a day of 
 it, and night too, it would seem. 
 
 The profound stillness that reigned in the dimly 
 lighted room reassured Mr. Southmead. Mrs. South- 
 mead had evidently heard nothing. If she had been 
 frightened, he argued from past experience, she would 
 have greeted his appearance, even at that hour of the 
 night, with meek gratitude, instead of lying there, with 
 her face turned studiously to the wall, feigning slum- 
 ber, until he should be in a position to receive the full 
 force of her batteries. 
 
 He instantly resolved to reserve his ill tidings for 
 the morning. They could be better borne by daylight. 
 If this disturbance among the freedmen showed any 
 signs of increase to-morrow, he should promptly remove 
 his family from the county ; if not, if things should 
 have quieted down, his wife would have been spared a 
 period of unnecessary discomfort. Having thus deter- 
 mined, he began his preparations for bed, in moody 
 silence. This unusual reticence was the last feather 
 on an overloaded camel. This was not the first time 
 since there had been a Mrs. Southmead that Mr. 
 Southmead had turned the door-handle of his own bed- 
 room with discreet gentleness, in the small hours, to
 
 THE MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 301 
 
 find a smoky lamp upon the hearth and an irate wife 
 lying in bed ! But the formula on like occasions in 
 the past had generally been a tentative " Sleep, 
 dearie ? " asked with a brave show of cheerful indiffer- 
 ence to consequences. It then rested with Mrs. South- 
 mead to enter a wordy protest against such scandalous 
 goings-on, or to maintain a dignified display of voice- 
 less indignation at discretion. 
 
 To-night she heard her husband come in and sniff 
 the kerosened atmosphere disgustedly, then the lamp 
 flamed higher and she could see his shadow on the 
 plastered wall toward which her outraged eyes were 
 turned.- She could hear him wind up his watch and 
 hang it in the perforated paper slipper, with the blue 
 ribbon quilled around it, that she had made for his watch 
 when Fred was a boy. She heard one shoe after the 
 other dropped heavily on the floor. And not a word 
 yet. A sudden upheaval of the bed-clothes, and Mrs. 
 Southmead's wide-open eyes were where the back of 
 her night-cap had been a second before. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Southmead? " 
 
 " Are you awake, my dear ? " 
 
 " Am I awake ! Do I look or sound as if I was 
 asleep ? " 
 
 "Not the least in the world. You'd better try it 
 now, though." 
 
 This was not according to precedent. It was evi- 
 dent intimidation would not suit the requirements of
 
 302 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 the present occasion. Mrs. Southmead was a woman 
 of infinite variety. 
 
 " Haven't you a single thing to tell me, George, now 
 that you have come home ? I would like you to be the 
 one to stay, and I the one to come home as dumb as 
 an oyster, and see how you'd like it." 
 
 " I haven't very much to tell," he answered, unre- 
 sentfully, " and what little I have will keep. I will sat- 
 isfy you at the breakfast-table. One telling must do for 
 the family. We've had a hard day of it, and been 
 beaten." 
 
 " Beaten ! " Mrs. Southmead sat bolt upright in 
 bed. " George, you don't mean to tell me that Sam 
 Faythliss has been elected sheriff ! " 
 
 " Beyond a doubt." 
 
 " Then it is all that Major Denny's doings ! " she 
 cried, in passionate injustice. " He is the only man in 
 the county that has a particle of influence with the 
 negroes, and every body says he has them completely 
 under his control. If he is such a friend of every 
 body's as the easily gullible ones are so anxious to 
 believe thank goodness I'm not one of them why 
 didn't he make the election go to suit us ? I never did 
 more than half believe in him, and now I don't believe 
 in him at all. George, you are nursing a viper in your 
 bosom ! " After which tragic peroration Mrs. South- 
 mead threw herself back upon her pillow in unrecon- 
 structed wrath,
 
 THE MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 303 
 
 " Denny has made the mistake we all made failed 
 to manipulate the negroes and lead them in the way 
 they should go. His failure was the result of natural 
 indifference : ours, of false pride and blind prejudice. 
 They were compelled to have leaders of some sort, and 
 we left them to the worst sort. We are more to blame, 
 by long odds, than Denny is." 
 
 "Oh, go on, go on, if you derive any satisfaction 
 from abasing yourself and your old neighbors in order 
 to exalt the new man at Rossmere. Your humility is 
 as refreshing as it is rare. Only I can not emulate it." 
 
 " Denny has done a deal more for this county than 
 it has ever done or ever will do for him," says Mr, 
 Southmead, hovering over a recital. 
 
 Mrs. Southmead sniffed scornfully: " Saved a levee, 
 and been worshiped for it ever since ! " 
 
 " Wife, you are an ingrate." 
 
 " Mr. Southmead, you are positively abject." 
 
 After which interchange of connubial courtesies, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Southmead turned their backs on each other 
 in a huff, and silently addressed themselves to slumber. 
 
 Mr. Southmead redeemed his promise of telling all 
 that he had to tell the next morning at the breakfast- 
 table. A somber silence fell upon the group as he told 
 the awful story of Manton Craycraft's violent death. 
 'Sula broke it by asking: 
 
 " And what became of Squire Thorn ?" 
 
 " Robert Owens, who rowed me across the lake last
 
 304 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 night, tells me that his grief for his friend and remorse 
 for his own instrumentality in causing his death became 
 so violent that he had to be removed to Doctor Tay- 
 lor's office, and placed ander the influence of opiates. 
 He was in the village when I left, Bob says." 
 
 " Then that unfortunate woman was alone all night, 
 and perhaps not mercifully spared the horror of this 
 news as you spared us, uncle." 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised if she were a lunatic by 
 this time," said Mrs. Southmead. " I'm sure I should 
 be, in her place." 
 
 'Sula rose from the table with her sweet face full of 
 trouble. Mrs. Southmead watched her hurried move- 
 ments uneasily and disapprovingly. She was folding 
 up the sewing she had laid out for the day on the 
 machine. 
 
 "What are you going to do, 'Sula?" she asked, 
 finally. 
 
 " I am going to Mrs. Thorn as soon as I can get a 
 horse saddled. Fred, will you kindly see to it for me? 
 And please tell Uncle Ephe I want him to go with me. 
 I wish I had known it last night ; I would have gone to 
 her at once. Auntie," she said, a little later, after a 
 hasty getting into her hat and habit, " we haven't been 
 good neighbors to that poor woman. We might have 
 lightened her lot more." 
 
 " Mrs. Thorn selected her own husband and her own 
 lot, and I really do not feel called on to condole with
 
 THE MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 305 
 
 her on her bad taste in the selections. I think your 
 going there now, 'Sula, is the act of a crazy woman." 
 
 " I must go," 'Sula said, walking restlessly about in 
 her long habit. " I should never forgive myself if I did 
 not. I never have forgiven myself for ' 'Sula blushed 
 furiously to the roots of her hair. 
 
 " Ursula " Mr. Southmead looked in perplexity 
 from the saddled horse that Ephe just then led 
 into sight, to where 'Sula was eagerly tying her hat- 
 strings under her back hair " this is kindly thought 
 of, and it sounds mean to curb your womanly impulse, 
 but I don't like to have you take this ride this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " Why ? " 'Sula asked, in genuine surprise. 
 
 " If I could go with you, or say, suppose you take 
 Fred." 
 
 " But Fred has lots laid off to do to-day. I heard 
 him tell about it last night." 
 
 " If I could go with you myself," her uncle began, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 " Which you certainly shall not do," says Mrs. South- 
 mead, positively. " I know Carl poor little dear 
 and I are not of much importance in the world, but I 
 decline being left alone to be murdered in cold blood." 
 Mrs. Southmead's handsome face was disproportion- 
 ately placid as she dwelt upon this blood-curdling pos- 
 sibility. 
 
 " Why, Uncle George, I am in no danger alone ! If
 
 306 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 I were in any trouble, I would call on our colored peo- 
 ple to protect me, and they would do it, too. You dear 
 old fogies, you and Aunt Amelia, have been looking 
 for a 'general uprising' ever since I can remember, and 
 it hasn't come yet. Come to the gallery with 
 me." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" asked Mrs. South- 
 mead, following her as she swept out of the dining- 
 room to the front gallery. 
 
 " I am going to talk to Uncle Ephe about that awful 
 affair." 
 
 " 'Sula, you are insane." 
 
 " 'Sula, this is very indiscreet." 
 
 She heard them both, but she called down to the old 
 man who was holding her horse : 
 
 " Uncle Ephe." 
 
 "Well, missy?" 
 
 " You were at the village yesterday, weren't you ? " 
 Ephe shook his head dolorously, and answered deject- 
 edly : 
 
 " I wuz dere, Miss 'Suly." 
 
 " Your people were very much excited, weren't 
 they ? " 
 
 " 'Cited ain' de word fur it, chile dey wuz crazy, 
 plum' crazy! Wot wid mean whisky, en mean talkwid 
 er passel er po' w'ite trash, en der heads done turn kase 
 of Sam's 'lection, dey done went plum' out'nt dar senses, 
 en a black day's work dey done, too ! "
 
 THE MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 307 
 
 " But they've had time to come to their senses by 
 this time, haven't they ? " 'Sula asked. 
 
 " My dear girl, I must protest," said Mr. Southmead, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " My dear uncle, you find it harder than I do to rec- 
 ognize the right of discussion in your old chattels. I 
 only wish you had talked a little more before. Well, 
 Uncle Ephe ? " 
 
 The old man was shaking his head and chuckling. 
 
 " Dat Medger Denny fetch 'em to 'em, honey. He 
 fotch 'em to der senses wid a round turn. I tell you, 
 missy, he talk to 'em lak a book. Lak de book uv de 
 Gospils at dat. He tole 'em dey wuz mouty anxious 
 to be call citizens, but dey wuz'n no better'n de brutes 
 uv de fiel'. He tuk out his watch, he did, en he 'lowed 
 'em jis' so many minnits, en no mo', to cl'ar out from 
 dat co't-yard. De time wuz plenty long, chile. Dey 
 wuz scart for der own devlishniss, an' he scart 'em 
 wus, he did, ladies en gentlemin, he done dat ve'y 
 thing." 
 
 A soft flush had come into 'Sula's face as Uncle 
 Ephe gave this rude resume of Stirling's harangue, 
 and her voice quivered suspiciously as she asked : 
 
 " And what then, Uncle Ephe? " 
 
 " Wot den? Dey knowed dat wuz de word wid de 
 bark on it, chile, an' dey made deyseff sceerce." 
 
 " What's going on to-day, old man ? " asked Mr. 
 Southmead, joining in the conversation.
 
 308 THE NE IV MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 " Cotton-pickin' and prayin' to de Lord for to forgive 
 yisterday's devilment," said old Ephraim, promptly. 
 
 "They are sorry for what they have done, then, 
 Uncle Ephe?" 
 
 " Sorry, chile ? Sorry ain' no word for it. Dey'd give 
 a good deal to ondo it, honey : a good deal, but dat dey 
 can't." 
 
 " You see, uncle," says 'Sula, in soft-voiced triumph, 
 "who knows them best. I know our people, you know 
 your 'hands.' They may be .lashed into temporary 
 fury by low and designing men, but their wrath is as 
 evanescent as the foam on the crest of the wave." 
 
 "You have proven yourself an apt pupil," Mr. South- 
 mead said, with a laugh. 
 
 "Of whom?" 
 
 " Denny's. I think I recognize his precepts. He 
 seems to have imbued you with his own dauntlessness, 
 too. God bless you, dear ! " 
 
 'Sula blushed, and, running lightly down the steps, 
 was soon mounted and cantering slowly in advance of 
 Uncle Ephe on his unambitious mule. 
 
 An hour's ride through the bare and leafless woods 
 brought her to the gate of Thorndale. The shutters 
 and the doors were all closed on the front, giving the 
 house, if possible, a gloomier look than ever. Two 
 skiffs were moored to the stake at the landing, and the 
 wet oars, lying crossed upon the seats, bespoke recent 
 arrivals.
 
 THE MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 309 
 
 "The squire has come home, I suppose,"/Sula 
 thought, " and I'm sorry for it. I should so much 
 rather see her alone." 
 
 She dismounted and found her way into the house 
 without attracting any attention. Her knock on the 
 front door remaining unnoticed, she turned the handle 
 and passed into the silent hall. There she paused 
 irresolutely a brief second. The stillness was so death- 
 like it paralyzed her. She knew where the dining- 
 room was. Mrs. Thorn was probably there, for the 
 sake of warmth. The door swung creaking on its 
 hinges as she opened it. A tall form rose mechanically 
 from a chair before the fire and stood motionless 
 awaiting her approach. It was Agnes, with pinched, 
 white face, and lack-luster eyes. 'Sula swept impul- 
 sively forward and clasped her arms tenderly about the 
 stricken woman. 
 
 " I have come to stay with you, to be your friend, to 
 comfort you if I can," she said. " I have not been to 
 you what I might have been, but you must let me atone 
 for every thing in the past that looked like cruelty." 
 
 Then the still, white pain in Agnes Thorn's worn 
 face broke up into tempestuous sobs, and, dropping 
 her head upon 'Sula's shoulder, she cried, and was 
 saved. 
 
 "Thank God ! " said an earnest voice behind them, 
 which made 'Sula tremble under the weight of the sob- 
 bing woman.
 
 3 1 o THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Stirling Denny placed his hand upon hers as they 
 clasped Agnes, for a second, and said, in a tone that 
 thrilled her heart even in that moment of bewilder- 
 ment : " This was good of you, and it was like you. I 
 will come back presently." Then he left the two 
 women alone. 
 
 Gently drawing Mrs. Thorn toward the lounge by the 
 fire, 'Sula seated herself by her side and led her to talk 
 of the events of the past day and night. Agnes told 
 the pitiful tale of her night spent in the cabin of old 
 Lottie, the Voudoo queen, and of her being found 
 there by Stirling Denny, who had come to take her to 
 her husband, who, they told her, was in a very help- 
 less condition. "It was good of him, wasn't it?" she 
 said, simply, raising her head to look into 'Sula's 
 eyes. 
 
 " It was very good of him," 'Sula answered, looking 
 far away toward the uncurtained window, at nothing 
 in particular. 
 
 " But he is good to everybody," Agnes said, dully, as 
 if she were trying to make talk. 
 
 "Yes; he is good to every body," 'Sula assented. 
 " Now suppose you go to sleep," she added, soothingly, 
 " with me sitting by you and holding your hand. You 
 need rest, poor dear. What a night of horrors you 
 must have endured." 
 
 Agnes shuddered, and clung to 'Sula's hands con- 
 vulsively. " I can not sleep. I wish I could. When I
 
 THE MAJOR'S P RE SCR IP TION. 3 1 1 
 
 close my eyes, I see him it poor, poor Manton ! You 
 know it was all my husband's fault. That makes it 
 mine," she said, claiming a dismal oneness with the 
 squire. " We killed him between us. Put me to sleep 
 if you can. I must sleep ! I have to go to the village 
 to my husband, but I am so tired I couldn't do any 
 good just yet. I couldn't think of any thing to help 
 him, with my head hurting so badly. I want to sleep, 
 oh ! forever and forever. He, Major Denny, was 
 writing something for me, I believe, when you came in. 
 Send for it, please. He said he was going to send for 
 something that would do me good. Jim will go for it 
 for me. I feel as if there was a fire here, and here." 
 
 She touched her heart and head, then turned her sad 
 eyes toward the desk which stood behind the door 
 through which 'Sula had entered. That was the reason 
 the major's presence was not noticed when she gave 
 her first attention to Agnes. She walked over to the 
 desk where he had been writing. The sheet of paper 
 was lying as he had left it, and in big, bold lettering she 
 read and re-read, and read again, without once realizing 
 the shocking impropriety of her own conduct, these 
 words : 
 
 " My Dear Mrs. Ralston : I feel confident that if you 
 knew the sad condition of your neighbor, Mrs. Thorn, 
 this request for your presence would not be needed. 
 I regard her as in a very critical condition. She needs 
 a woman friend. I am sure "
 
 3 1 2 THE NE W MAN A T KOSSMERE. 
 
 That was all. Her entrance had brought the note to 
 a sudden termination. 'Sula's usually pale cheeks 
 flushed rosy red. 
 
 She, then, was what was to do this sorrowing woman 
 "good." His thoughts had turned to her when he 
 wanted help. Oh, glad, proud, happy discovery ! She 
 went back to Agnes's side, and her voice was ineffably 
 soft and soothing as she said : " Perhaps Major Denny 
 has gone to send the order himself. But if you will lie 
 down and let me try my mesmeric powers on you, I do 
 not believe you will need any doctor's stuff." 
 
 Agnes obeyed with the docility of a tired child. 
 'Sula arranged the pillows of the lounge, and, laying her 
 cool, soft hand upon the fevered brow of the over- 
 wrought woman, she gently soothed her into a pro- 
 found and natural sleep. 
 
 When, half an hour later, Stirling Denny re-entered 
 the room, 'Sula was standing by the fireplace gazing 
 abstractedly into the glowing heart of the fire. He 
 glanced at the sleeping woman on the lounge, then 
 crossed the floor softly and stood beside 'Sula. 
 
 " My prescription has worked like a charm," he said. 
 
 'Sula blushed guiltily, and asked, deceitfully, "What 
 did you prescribe ? " 
 
 " You ! " he replied, with gentle boldness. " I came 
 over here," he went on, quite as if it were his duty to 
 explain matters to Mrs. Ralston, " to take Mrs. Thorn 
 over to the village, by request of Mrs. Harris. Squire
 
 THE MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 313 
 
 Thorn has been so completely thrown off his balance 
 by the shock of yesterday's tragedy that I should not 
 be surprised if it ended in dementia. He has been re- 
 moved to Lawyer Harris's, and it was thought best his 
 wife should go to him. But I doubt her ability to be 
 of any service at present." 
 
 'Sula walked over to the lounge, laid her hand gently 
 on Agnes's forehead, and came back to the fireplace. 
 
 " She has considerable fever now, but when she 
 wakes up I suppose we ought to let her decide for her- 
 self whether she will go to the village or not. Why 
 not bring her husband home?" 
 
 " He raves so wildly at any proposal to remove him 
 before the interment of my unfortunate friend, that 
 it has been decided best to humor him at present." 
 
 " God help him and forgive him ! " said 'Sula ; " it is 
 hard for us to do so. He is old and feeble, but he has 
 proven mighty for evil." 
 
 " It is indeed hard to forgive him. His own suffering 
 is tremendous, though. I would rather be in Manton's 
 place than his." 
 
 " What will become of her if the old man should lose 
 his mind ? " said 'Sula, reverting to the trouble nearest 
 at hand. 
 
 " I can imagine her finding the strength to endure 
 unto the bitter end. It was the suddenness of this 
 shock and the medium through which it was com- 
 municated to her that threw her into her present help-
 
 314 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 less condition. What will we do if she is not able to 
 accompany me to the village ? " he added, presently, 
 looking anxiously toward the sleeper on the 
 lounge. 
 
 " You will return there without her," 'Sula said, 
 smiling at the perplexity in his face. 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " Will remain here until my presence is no longer 
 needed." 
 
 Agnes moaned in her sleep, and Ursula, hastening to 
 her side, resumed the mesmeric motion of a cool hand 
 upon a hot brow, until the breathing of the sleeper 
 became once more regular as a happy child's, then 
 went back to her chair by the fire. 
 
 " I have a confession to make," the major said, very 
 abruptly, quite as if he had been preparing it while she 
 was over at Agnes's side. " I have wronged you in my 
 thoughts, and I want to tell you all about it." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 ' Sula sat with her hands lightly crossed on her lap, 
 a graceful, listless attitude common with her when 
 the busy hands were idle. Her eyes, clear, tender, 
 honest eyes, were raised to meet his, as he stood lean- 
 ing with his back against the mantle-shelf and his arms 
 folded over his broad chest, somewhat as if he were 
 forcibly confining some rebellious outburst of feeling. 
 There was a look of such eager interest on her sweet 
 face as she asked that laconic question, that the tempt-
 
 THE MAJOR' S P RE SCRIP TION, 3 1 5 
 
 ation to stoop and press his lips upon her smooth 
 white forehead beset him sorely. 
 
 " I have coupled you with other women, and have 
 been angry with you for making it possible for me to 
 do so. I fancied that you, too, had failed this lonely 
 stranger in a strange land, by withholding the friend- 
 ship that would have been such a priceless boon to her. 
 I even imagined I saw you give your countenance to 
 the cruel attempt to slight her that was made on a cer- 
 tain Sunday we both remember. I want to beg your 
 pardon for wronging you." 
 
 " You did not wrong me," 'Sula said, bravely and 
 honestly. " I have been very un.kind to her. I have 
 treated her worse than I knew it was in me to treat any- 
 one. But," she flushed with sudden resentment, 
 " why should I humble myself to you ? What right 
 have you to take me to task for rny social short- 
 comings?" 
 
 " Pardon me," he answered, gravely. " How greatly 
 you err! I was taking myself to task for having 
 wronged you. Your presence here to-day proves that 
 you were not among those who laid so cruel and unjust 
 a ban upon the squire's wife, does it not ? " 
 
 " I was guilty as the guiltiest among them all," she 
 repeated, and the clear eyes grew troubled. 
 
 " Will you not tell me why ? " he persisted. 
 
 " No, never ! " Incautiously 'Sula had shed light upon 
 a dark spot in the major's perception, and it illumined
 
 3 1 6 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 his face in a flashing smile, which, however, soon faded, 
 and he asked, soberly : 
 
 " May I go on being impertinent ? " 
 
 " If you can't avoid it, yes." 'Sula's smile was kinder 
 than her words. 
 
 " I want to ask you one point-blank question. Has 
 any specific charge ever been brought against this 
 unhappy lady? Two point-blank questions, I should 
 have said. Do you believe her to be unworthy the 
 sweet solicitude that brought you here and soothed 
 her as all my clumsy man's sympathy could not do ?" 
 To his dismay, Ursula Ralston, the quietest, demur- 
 est, most self-sustained of women, suddenly dissolved 
 in a passion of tears. 
 
 " Don't," he said, in a choked voice. " Every tear 
 you shed scalds my heart. Ursula, you know that I 
 love you. You have known it for so many months that 
 it sounds trite to put it into words. Darling, I have 
 been trying you purposely. I knew you would be too 
 honest to shelter yourself behind the flimsy network 
 of excuses I manufactured for you. I 
 
 " Please stop," said 'Sula, growing calm as suddenly 
 as she had grown tempestuous. " I am too honest, I 
 hope, to allow you to continue protestations that can 
 never result in any thing." 
 
 "Never result in any thing? And why? Do not 
 forfeit your character for honesty by becoming ambigu- 
 ous. I do not believe you would wantonly cause dis-
 
 THE MAJOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 317 
 
 tress to the meanest thing that lives, Mrs. Ralston ; 
 therefore I must charge myself with being a consum- 
 mate puppy for supposing I had gained any degree of 
 favor with you." 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! You know that I like you. Ah ! my 
 dear friend, why have you disturbed the placid current 
 of our friendly intercourse ?" 
 
 "The placid current of friendly intercourse is not 
 sufficient for me. It must be more or less between us, 
 Ursula. Which shall it be ? " 
 
 It was a masterful sort of wooing; a wooing in 
 keeping with the man. And 'Sula felt the fullness of 
 a response that would have made them both very 
 happy singing in her heart and crying aloud for utter- 
 ance. He was so strong, so self-sustained. Ah, what 
 a restful life a woman might lead blessed with daily 
 companionship with him, uplifted and cherished. The 
 impulse to say, " Let it be more," was mighty, and hard 
 to resist. 
 
 Instead, she said, with perfect outward calmness, 
 with only a drooping of the white lids over the 
 troubled eyes : 
 
 " Then let it be less." 
 
 He turned and went away from her without another 
 word, and presently she could hear the sound of oars, 
 and she knew he was on his way back to the village. 
 She sat very still, but every stroke of those oars seemed 
 to strike upon a sore spot in her breast. Her eyes
 
 3 1 8 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 were turned upon the window that gave a small section 
 of the lake to view. She saw his little boat shoot past 
 the narrow strip of water with the swift motion 
 of a picture upon the slide of a magic lantern, and 
 then the landscape ceased to interest her.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 RETROSPECTION. 
 
 SHE got up and walked over to where Agnes was 
 still sleeping heavily. She bent over and touched 
 her upon the forehead. She would not have been 
 sorry if the touch had awakened her, which it did not 
 do. She moved away, with a restless activity urging 
 her to action of some sort, if it were only circulating 
 round about the room. She bestowed an absent- 
 minded but minute examination upon the several 
 common-place chromos with which Squire Thorn had 
 gratified his own crude art instincts and disfigured his 
 walls. She tip-toed to obtain a nearer view of a 
 framed photograph of some Confederate general whose 
 individuality was lost in the blurry picture. Her zeal 
 for information brought disaster to a standing work- 
 basket that belonged to Mrs. Thorn, against which she 
 inadvertently leaned. It was one of those top-heavy, 
 spidery-legged things whose normal condition seems 
 to be toppling, and which seem purposely invented as 
 trials to one's patience and tests of one's dexterity. 
 
 The basket toppled promptly, and the contents 
 rolled in every direction, a promiscuous heap of spools,
 
 320 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 thimbles, scissors, cushions, and all the et caeteras of a 
 lady's work-basket. 'Sula gave one startled glance 
 toward the sleeping woman. Agnes was unconscious 
 of the noisy catastrophe. 'Sula righted the basket on 
 its untrustworthy legs, and knelt down to replace the 
 contents. Her task was purely mechanical until she 
 laid hold upon a soft silken and morocco object which 
 seemed to arouse her instantaneously to a high pitch of 
 interest and excitement. Heretofore she had been 
 arranging Mrs. Thorn's belongings quite methodically, 
 but now, holding the object that had so excited her in a 
 tight grasp, as if fearful it might elude her, she threw 
 the remaining articles into the basket pell-mell, and, 
 going back to the chair by the fire, she dropped rather 
 than seated herself in it. 
 
 Only a little faded " housewife." A trifle, com- 
 posed of silk and morocco ; faded, dingy, worn, and 
 valueless intrinsically : but to her who held it a revela- 
 tion, a silent message from out the past, a voice from 
 her dead, the missing link in her chain of evidence. 
 
 She turned it over and over in her hand, sorely 
 tempted to untie the faded green ribbon that kept the 
 creased folds in place. She wanted to examine the 
 interior, although nothing could add to the sureness of 
 her conviction that the housewife in her hand was the 
 one she had made for her husband, Henry Ralston, 
 when tearfully equipping him for departure with the 
 first troops that had left the country for the seat of
 
 RE TROSPECTION. 32 1 
 
 war in Virginia. She could tell with her eyes closed 
 how that little "soldier's companion," as they were 
 grandiloquently called, looked inside. It was lined 
 throughout with a piece of the plaid silk that her 
 " second day dress " was made of when she was mar- 
 ried. The pockets were all of plain green silk, and on 
 the three white flannel folds for needles, notched all 
 around about, the initials " H. R. " were worked in 
 red crewel. She turned it over and over in her hands, 
 impatient to make assurance doubly sure. She must 
 satisfy herself on this point. Agnes would forgive her. 
 She could explain it all to her. With trembling fingers 
 she loosened the bow-knot of faded ribbon and opened 
 the housewife. The initials " H. R. " stared her in the 
 face, giving confirmation strong as Holy Writ of her 
 expectations. She instantly retied the strings, and sat 
 there with her hands tightly folded about the coiled 
 morocco. 
 
 How did it come into Mrs. Thorn's possession? and 
 what light might she not be able to throw on the 
 mystery that had enveloped her husband's fate for six 
 years ? 
 
 Memory reverted to the day when she had clung 
 about his neck, loth to see him go, but not daring to 
 bid him stay. Only three or four letters had ever come 
 back to her. Then silence ; a dead, unbroken silence, 
 that had lasted now for six years. That Henry Ral- 
 ston was dead she believed in common with all her
 
 322 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 friends ; but so far, the belief remained unsustained h,y 
 one iota of proof. 
 
 A mightier, deeper love had come into her life than 
 the girlish affection she had bestowed on her young 
 husband, and it seemed no treason to Harry's memory 
 that she should recognize what was good and noble in 
 Stirling Denny. She had been a new-made bride when 
 Harry went away from her, so dashing and gay that 
 even the sadness of parting with his month-old wife 
 could not quite dampen his exuberant spirits. Of 
 course he was dead, but until she could say, " I know 
 it," nothing should ever tempt her to marry again. 
 
 Perhaps that sleeping woman could solve the doubt 
 of years. Perhaps when Agnes awoke she might have 
 'that to tell her which would give her the blessed privi- 
 lege of unsaying the seemingly heartless words that had 
 sent Stirling Denny away from her, only a few moments 
 ago, in wordless resentment. 
 
 She smiled as she tried to fancy herself maneuvering 
 for an opportunity to tell him that it might be more 
 instead of less. " Hewill ask me once more," she said, 
 secure in her woman's prerogatives. " Men always do 
 when they are in earnest." 
 
 Then memory suddenly flung back a veil, and she 
 seemed to see, in an attitude of devotion before her, 
 the bright-faced, brave-hearted soldier husband, who, 
 as Mr. Southmead had once jestingly put it, " had 
 courted 'Sula at every important epoch of his life--
 
 RETROSPECTION. 323 
 
 when he went to college, when he graduated, when he 
 came of age, when he took possession of his property, 
 and, finally, when enlisting for the war." Pity had 
 finally triumphed, and Ursula had said "yes" when 
 she had so often said " no," overcome by a tumult of 
 emotions, of which, perhaps, love was least. 
 
 " Poor Harry ! " she said, almost in the old pitying 
 fashion in which she had said "yes" to his final asking, 
 shrinking from wounding the heart that was about to 
 be offered a free-will offering to his country. She 
 smoothed the creases in the morocco case with a 
 caressing touch. " My poor Harry ! After all, I was 
 not worth such patient wooing ! And yet I think 
 I made him happy. He said I did, my poor boy." 
 
 The morning was well on the wane before Agnes 
 stirred, opened her eyes, and fastened them in a stare 
 of momentary surprise upon the quiet figure sitting in 
 the squire's big chair by the fire. She lay with wide- 
 open eyes, not caring to speak, enjoying (if the word 
 enjoyment could be applied to any sensation she was 
 capable of feeling) the restful, soothing knowledge that 
 a woman was near her and that woman was her 
 friend. 
 
 The carefully subdued light in the room, the fire 
 burning brightly on a clean-swept hearth, the Sabbath- 
 like stillness of the house, 'Sula's graceful form lending 
 a touch of refinement to the room that was never visi- 
 ble to Agnes's eyes, herself being the only refined ele-
 
 324 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 ment usually, all combined to allay the almost hysteri- 
 cal agitation she had been laboring under since the 
 moment when Jim Doakes had told her in his own 
 clumsy fashion of the tragedy at the village. The 
 night just gone, with its gloom, its harrowing grief, its 
 weird hours spent in old Lottie's cabin, seemed as 
 unreal to her, as she lay there following the graceful 
 contour of 'Sula's profile, as a hideous dream. She 
 wished this blessed calm might last forever. She was 
 in no haste to shorten it by one wo/d or so much as 
 the movement of an eyelid. 
 
 And Ursula seemed under a like spell. Unconscious 
 that the squire's wife was watching her motionless 
 form in a dreary reverie, she had wandered in mind so 
 far from the scene of her bodily presence as to start 
 with uncontrollable nervousness when the door opened 
 and Jim Doakes' tall form stood framed in the open- 
 ing. He glanced at the two quiet figures, and then 
 stood irresolute. 
 
 " I am awake, Jim. What is it ? " his mistress asked, 
 rising to a sitting posture and turning her wan face 
 toward him. 
 
 " Well, 'urn, I 'lowed I 'lowed," said Jim, twirling 
 his ragged felt hat in nervous uncertainty, ''to find de 
 Medger here. I 'lowed t' row him back t' de villidge 
 ef you wuz ready to go over, Miss Aggy. " 
 
 Agnes knew this was Jim's way of calling her atten- 
 tion to the necessity of her going. She got up and
 
 RE TROSPECTION. 325 
 
 walked over to 'Sula, looking down upon her with 
 beseeching eyes as she asked : 
 
 " Must I go ? Would you go if you were I ? Can 
 I do any good by going? Decide for me I do not 
 seem to be able to think." 
 
 'Sula put her hand on the one Agnes had laid upon 
 her shoulder. It still felt hot and dry with fever. 
 
 " I do not see why you should go in your present 
 state. Major Denny wished to leave the decision 
 entirely with you ; but he 
 
 "Where is he? Not gone !" Agnes glanced around 
 in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, he seemed to I believe he decided very sud- 
 denly that he must return to the village. I suppose 
 he thought I would be all the company you would 
 need." 
 
 There was a flush on 'Sula's face and a hesitancy in 
 constructing her sentences that betrayed her. Mrs. 
 Thorn impulsively put her hand under her friend'js 
 chin, and looked searchingly into the eyes too honest 
 to aid and abet the duplicity of the tongue. 
 
 " Surely you have not been so cruel ? You have 
 not 
 
 " Jim," said Mrs. Ralston, in a louder, firmer voice, 
 " I think you had best return to the village alone, and 
 tell Major Denny Mrs. Thorn is not well enough to 
 leave home." 
 
 "Will not a written message be kinder?" Agnes
 
 326 THE NEW MAN A T ROSSMEJtE. 
 
 asked, coaxingly. " If Mr. Thorn wants me I will 
 go." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be best. You will write it ? " 
 
 " No, you. . Ah, friend, let me feel for one little 
 day the blessed sense of unresponsibility that has made 
 this morning so restful. You will write it for me. He 
 will think your decision right, whatever it may be. 
 Why what you haven't been at work ? " Her eyes 
 rested for the first time on the housewife 'Sula still 
 held in her hand. 
 
 " I accidentally upset your work-basket while you 
 were asleep," 'Sula said, with a tremor in her voice, 
 " and and wait." Rising hastily, she walked over to 
 the squire's desk and wrote : " Mrs. Thorn still has 
 fever, and is otherwise in too excited a condition to be 
 of service to her husband. The trial to her nerves 
 which his condition would entail would be a grave risk. 
 I strongly advise against her going to the village, but 
 if her husband expressed a direct wish for her presence, 
 she will come. I will remain as long as she needs 
 me. U. RALSTON." 
 
 She read it over, undecided whether to send it or 
 not. It was entirely non-committal. She might just 
 as well have written it to Mr. Harris as to Major 
 Denny. Better, for Squire Thorn was at the lawyer's 
 house. She submitted her doubts to Mrs. Thorn. 
 
 " Why should I not refer this matter to Mr. Harris 
 rather than to Major Denny ? "
 
 RETROSPECTION. 327 
 
 "Why should we take all and give nothing? "she 
 answered, enigmatically, smiling sadly into 'Sula's per- 
 plexed eyes. 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 " Ever since my arrival in this neighborhood," Mrs. 
 Thorn said, explaining, " the man whom we have all 
 tacitly agreed to regard as a traditionary foeman has 
 been spending his time and his energies in quiet, unos- 
 tentatious efforts for the good of the people among 
 whom he has cast his lot. Every unselfish act of his 
 has been accepted as a sort of peace offering, and a 
 certain amount of recognition, more or less meager, 
 has been accorded by way of striking a balance. He 
 has pursued his own even-tenored way, without fear or 
 favor, doing what his own clear head and generous 
 heart have dictated. And now, when he asks for the 
 first time something in the shape of reward, it is denied 
 him," 
 
 " What reward has he ever asked ? " 'Sula asks, 
 dashing off hieroglyphics on a blank sheet of paper with 
 fierce energy and down-dropped eyes. 
 
 " Only a woman's heart ! " says the squire's wife, 
 dropping the words into 'Sula's ears at close range. 
 
 'Sula folded her note, addressed it to Major Denny, 
 and, going out to the gallery, where Jim had discreetly 
 withdrawn pending their decision, she dispatched it, 
 feeling quite sure she had done all that politeness 
 demanded. She hardly waited to be seated, on
 
 328 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 returning to Agnes, before laying the housewife in its 
 owner's lap, as she asked : 
 
 " Mrs. Thorn, will you tell me how that came into 
 your possession ?" 
 
 Agnes viewed the article in question with indifferent 
 eyes as she answered, carelessly : 
 
 "This. Yes, I remember perfectly well how I came 
 by it, and I believe I have some other belongings of 
 the same poor fellow, somewhere." 
 
 "What was his name?" 'Sula asked, with husky 
 voice and tumultuously beating heart. 
 
 " Indeed, I do not remember, though I suppose I 
 knew at one time. I know it was during the first year 
 of the war that this housewife came into my pos- 
 session accidentally. I was living with a brother, since 
 dead, in Richmond, Virginia, at that time. He came 
 home one day, bringing a sick soldier with him. You 
 know, in those times, every house was opened and every 
 hand stretched forth to care for the wearers of the gray. 
 I nursed the owner of this little housewife through a 
 terrible and protracted attack of typhoid fever. He 
 was barely able to be about when he was ordered back 
 to his company." 
 
 " He did not die, then?" 
 
 " No, though I hated to have him leave us when he 
 was so weak. We got to be very good friends during 
 his slow convalescence. He loved to talk to me about 
 his home Louisiana, if I'm not mistaken (so many
 
 RETROSPECTION. 329 
 
 events crowded upon each other in those eventful days 
 that we easily forgot), and his pretty young wife. He 
 seemed very grateful for the little I did for him. He 
 was ordered back to camp very suddenly, and, with the 
 proverbial carelessness of soldiers, left several things 
 behind in his bureau drawer this among them. We 
 never knew where to send them, if indeed they had 
 been worth sending after him." 
 
 'Sula leaned over and took the housewife out of her 
 lap. 
 
 " Poor Harry ! " she murmured, opening it again, and 
 smoothing all the creases out of the faded silken 
 pockets. 
 
 " Perhaps you knew him ! " 
 
 " His name," said 'Sula, mechanically, pointing to the 
 letters H. R., "was Henry Ralston, and he was my hus- 
 band. I have believed him dead all these years. I have 
 no proof. Even this is none." 
 
 Agnes looked at her with sorrowful interest. This, 
 then, she thought, is the reason why Stirling Denny's 
 wooing went awry. " I will bring you the other things," 
 she said, and left the room to fetch them. 
 
 She came back with a parcel done up in an old Con- 
 federate newspaper, and laid it in 'Sula's lap. 
 
 " Each heart knoweth its own bitterness, dear. I 
 wish I could pour balm into yours," she said, softly, 
 and left her guest alone to examine the contents of the 
 package.
 
 33 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 They were mere nothings it contained, with one 
 exception. That was an unfinished letter, the last one 
 he had ever written to his wife, which Henry Ralston 
 had penned at intervals during his weary convalescence, 
 meaning to dispatch quite a budget when chance of 
 getting it through the lines by some friendly hand 
 should offer. It, too, had been left between the folds . 
 of the atlas he used as a portfolio, and found by 
 his entertainers after he had gone back to the 
 army. 
 
 " Poor Harry! careless to the bitter end," 'Sula said, 
 with a pitying smile, when Agnes told her of this find- 
 ing. She could not mourn for him anew. He had been 
 dead to her now for many years. It was no longer a pain 
 to talk of him freely, even cheerfully. After all, her 
 fancied clew had only led her into fresh mazes in the 
 labyrinth, had only added to the uncertainty. In this 
 letter, which had reached its destination so many years 
 after date, her husband said : " I am ordered to report 
 for active duty, but where that active duty is to be 
 performed you know as well as I do." That was all. 
 She was no nearer the solution of her doubts than she 
 had been before the discovery of the trifle which she 
 had put into her soldier boy's pocket, with minute and 
 reiterated instructions concerning the use of every 
 article in it. How merrily they both had laughed at 
 his clumsy efforts to use the big thimble, and to thread 
 the large-eyed needle ! She tied the package up care-
 
 RE TROSPECTION. 33 r 
 
 fully, and was laying the housewife back in Mrs. Thorn's 
 basket, when Agnes re-entered. " Keep it. It is 
 yours," Agnes said. 
 
 " No, I should prefer leaving it here." 'Sula dropped 
 it into the basket, then encircled Agnes's slender waist 
 with her arm as she said : " You, who were so good to 
 my poor Harry, what a return have I made you. Twice 
 this day have I been reproached." 
 
 " Be my friend, dear Mrs. Ralston, in the days to 
 come, and I will forgive you for misunderstanding me 
 in the past. I have known," she went on, quite calmly, 
 " for a long time past that I was under some sort of 
 social ban. I was conscious of not deserving to be, but 
 indifferent to setting things right. It was my visit to 
 Rossmere one evening when Major Denny was getting 
 well, was it not, that set the tongues of idlers wag- 
 ging?" 
 
 " It was not prudent, dear," said 'Sula, with 
 an upflaming of the old jealousy that she felt 
 ashamed of. 
 
 " I knew that at the time. But my case was a des- 
 perate one, and I took a desperate remedy. He under- 
 stood, and he never blamed me ! " 
 
 " Then neither will I. I have been cruel." 
 
 " No, only ignorant," said Mrs. Thorn, sinking wearily 
 into a chair, and resting her throbbing temples in her 
 hands. 
 
 A thought-crowded silence fell between the two
 
 332 THE NE W MAN A T XOSSMERE. 
 
 women. They who had come very near to each other 
 on that sad morning, in a pact that lasted between 
 them for all time to come, felt no need of conventional 
 commonplaces.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY OF MR. POTTER. 
 
 A YEAR rolled by before the effects of the panic 
 which had its foundation in Squire Thorn's rash 
 display of disapproval of the new order of things wore 
 away entirely. 
 
 There were those who refused to believe that the 
 subdued attitude of the freedmen, following as it did 
 in a reactionary form after that one wild outburst of 
 brute force, was any thing better than a cloak for darker 
 designs, for whose development further time and fresh 
 counsel were alone needed. There were those who 
 loudly advocated the desirability of taking justice in 
 their own hands, on the eye-for-an-eye, life-for-a-life 
 principle, unmindful of Him who hath said, "Ven- 
 geance is mine, I will repay ! " There were those who 
 came to the violent conclusion that the country would 
 never again be a fitting abode for white men, and fled 
 in unreflecting haste with their wives and children. 
 There were those who held that Stirling Denny's influ- 
 ence alone kept the turbulent element within bounds, 
 and should that influence be removed they would be 
 left entirely at the mercy of a set of beings whose 
 moral perceptions were of the lowest possible order,
 
 334 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 and who, drunken already with their own exaltation to 
 a little temporary authority over their former masters 
 in the person of Sam Faythliss, were ready for any 
 thing. Such convictions impelled many to seek in 
 more civilized localities, and under more intelligent 
 officials, that security for life and property which all 
 men desire. 
 
 A dreary winter followed upon the fall elections that 
 had been attended with so much of terror and tragedy. 
 The residences of a great many of the planters were 
 closed and vacant. Squire Thorn had finally been 
 taken back to his home, in a state bordering on imbe- 
 cility. Time had only served to intensify his gloom 
 and his helplessness. In faithful ministration upon him 
 his wife spent the days and nights which she had sol- 
 emnly dedicated to duty. She had begun to climb 
 the hill " Difficulty " on her wedding-day, and if by the 
 eye of faith she could see the shining heights afar, 
 happy for her. But the shadows lay thick and dark 
 about her daily walk. 
 
 Stirling Denny, repulsed a second time, causelessly 
 as he imagined, by the woman to whom he had given 
 the best offerings of his strong, pure nature, withdrew 
 into himself more and more, finding his only distrac- 
 tion in endeavoring to ameliorate county matters for 
 all concerned. It was not in him to brood over a dis- 
 appointment. If the joys of domestic life were not 
 attainable by him, in the only shape he craved them,
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY OF MR. POTTER. 335 
 
 then he would do without. He, who scorned substi- 
 tutes for meaner things, would certainly never accept 
 one for the only woman he had ever desired to call 
 wife. It must be Ursula Ralston or no one. 
 
 The Southmeads were leading very much the same 
 sort of lives they had led from time immemorial a 
 sort of stolid cheerfulness that partook largely of the 
 nature of resignation. Carl was a trifle older; Fred, 
 many degrees stronger; Ursula, a little quieter, a little 
 sadder, but infinitely gentle and lovable. 
 
 The freedmen, who, despite their boasted independ- 
 ence, must, for many years to come, remain mere imi- 
 tators and reflectors of the views and opinions of the 
 white men nearest to them, imitated the distrust and 
 reflected the gloom of their superiors. The season in 
 question was a veritable winter of discontent for all 
 concerned. 
 
 Of all those who participated more or less directly 
 in the troubles that Judge Upps and his colleague Gays 
 were assuredly responsible for in the eyes of God, Man- 
 ton Craycraft was the only one at rest where they had 
 laid him, in the village graveyard, back on the ridge, 
 where the white chrysanthemums that womanly hands 
 had planted at his head and feet were already abloom, 
 perfuming the air with their pungent fragrance. 
 
 And again it was nearing Christmas time. To the 
 dwellers in cities, whose year is punctuated by a variety 
 pf anniversaries scattered through the months, the sig-
 
 336 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 nificance to both white and black of this one holiday 
 season on the plantation can hardly be exaggerated. 
 The excitement which is common to both colors is of 
 a very different complexion. 
 
 " Christmas times " means total demoralization among 
 domestics, unthrift, carelessness, and untidiness galore, 
 necessitating an extra amount of exertion and super- 
 human exercise of patience on the part of the house- 
 keeper who would maintain a vestige of self-respect 
 during the ordeal of that one week, extending from 
 Christmas to New Year, which, by the inexorable law 
 of custom, is given up to the laboring class. 
 
 To the latter it is looked forward to from one coming 
 to the next with childlike eagerness. If the men can 
 be sure of the wherewithal to purchase a supply of 
 whisky, tobacco, powder and shot, with perhaps a new 
 pair of conestoga boots or a flash and shoddy suit of 
 clothes, they ask nothing more at the hands of fate. 
 To the women it means a grand shopping excursion 
 to the nearest store, where their hard earnings are 
 speedily converted into tawdry finery and cheap gew- 
 gaws. The increase of comforts for their homes is of 
 the last consideration. They are too migratory in their 
 habits to care for such unwieldy belongings as bureaus 
 and washstands. 
 
 But neither white nor black citizens looked forward 
 to the coming Christmas with feelings of hilarity. 
 Every thing had gone awry. It seemed all a muddle,
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY OF MR, POTTER. 337 
 
 Superstition, that ever-ready ally of ignorance, offered 
 a solution of the general distress to Abram Potter. He 
 took gloomy satisfaction in trying to prove by a capit- 
 ulation of the various disasters that had helped on the 
 catastrophe of a moneyless Christmas, that the Lord 
 was against his people, and was emptying the vials of 
 His just wrath upon them. His favorite place and time 
 for airing these somber convictions was of evenings, 
 when he, seated on a low stool in Frederic's room, 
 blacking the shoes for the three male members of the 
 family, was at liberty to express his views on all subjects. 
 His untutored but oftentimes sage reflections afforded 
 Fred never-ending amusement. 
 
 " Yes, sah," Abram said, for about the fortieth time, 
 drawing a long, restful inspiration, as he laid down his 
 blacking-brush and held Mr. Southmead's highly pol- 
 ished boot off at arm's length to criticise the result of 
 his own efforts, " de Lord is ag'in us, sho' ! En dat's 
 gospil troof, ef hit ain' nuthin' but a fool nigger a say- 
 in' uv it. An' 1 is come to the 'clushun, sah," he con- 
 tinued sententiously, " dat I is foun' out whar de trou- 
 ble mos'ly lays w'ich is brought down de viols er wraf 
 on dis yer vale uv tears." 
 
 " Where does it lie, Abe ?" Fred asked, always will- 
 ing to lend an attentive ear to the old man's quaint 
 moralizing. 
 
 Abram polished another boot in solemn silence before 
 delivering himself further.
 
 33 8 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 " Hit lays, sah," he said, finally, emphasizing his 
 remarks by a measured beat of three right-hand fin- 
 gers upon the outstretched palm of his left hand, " in 
 de fac' dat we is got a Joner on bo'd de ship uv state." 
 
 "A Jonah, Abe!" 
 
 " I makes no 'punctions in sayin' to you, in de pri- 
 versy uv dis room er yo* n, Mister Freddie, dat we is 
 undoubtedly a-sailin' in de same boat wid a Joner." 
 
 " What is your Jonah's other name, Abe ? " 
 
 Fred asked this question with eager interest. Who 
 knew but perhaps the name of Manton Craycraft's 
 slayer would at last be divulged ! All the united 
 efforts of the white people had proved useless, so far, 
 to discover the man who struck that deadly blow. 
 
 " His name, sah, hit is Samuel Faythliss," said 
 Abrarn, promptly. "A nigger w'ich is done turn fool 
 hisseff, an' w'ich ain' gwine to res' tell he mek jes' es 
 big fools uv all de res' uv de niggers, is Joner 'nough 
 to swamp de best boat dat ever wuz sot afloat ! " 
 
 "You are going too fast, old man," said Fred, seri- 
 ously. "You are holding poor Sam in too heavy 
 responsibility for the actions of other and deeper men. 
 He was nothing but a tool before election, and he's 
 nothing but a dummy now. He is perfectly harmless. 
 You know his white deputy is, in reality, our sheriff. 
 Poor old Sam ! he soon found he couldn't stand alone." 
 
 " Dat's wot I bin tolin' yer all dis time," says Abram, 
 eagerly. " Niggers ken't stan' 'lone, don' keer how
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY OF MR. POTTER. 339 
 
 hard dey try ! De lone bone done lef out'n his 'natimy 
 altoogedder." 
 
 " Give them time, Abe," said Stirling Denny'syoung 
 disciple. " You know we all have to crawl before we 
 can run." 
 
 " You's right ag'in, son, but weain' done no good by 
 a-histin' Sam Faythliss up whar he done got de dizzi- 
 ness in his head. You see, Sam he tried to run fo' he 
 know how to crawl even, en what's been de hupshot ? " 
 
 " I don't know, what?" 
 
 "De same Lord w'ich punish dem Babbyloners fur 
 der foolishness and der out-set-in-ness, is ag'in proud 
 an' stiff-neck folks down ter dis day. Ef Sam had er 
 stuck to his cotton patch we wouldn't never hev been 
 a moanin' over dese hard times, son no, sah." 
 
 " I don't know, Abe." 
 
 " But I does," said Mr. Potter, emphatically. " Git 
 out, chile ! w'en de nigger git's t' knowin' dat he is got 
 to mek a contrac' uv mutualability wid his w'ite folks, 
 he's on de road t' wisdom, en will fotch up healthy en 
 wealthy en wise, and not 'fore." 
 
 Exhausted by this forensic flight, this unconscious 
 political economist rose to take his departure for the 
 quarters. 
 
 " The lesson of mutual support and dependence is 
 one we have to learn, Abram, as well as yourselves, 
 and, thanks be to God, we are learning it." 
 
 " Amen ! " said Abram. " Good-night, chile. Bless
 
 34 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 de lam', ef I is done turn fool I ain' forgot how to give 
 a good shine to de boss's boots." 
 
 And, ranging the six shining shoes in a row by the 
 wall, Abe took up his implements, and went to give 
 Mrs. Potter the benefit of his bottled wisdom.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WON OVER. 
 
 QTIRLING DENNY sat alone in his library the 
 v3 morning before Christmas. He was at his open 
 desk, but not writing with his usual directness of pur- 
 pose. He was surrounded by a confused mass of let- 
 ters and papers, which he was examining, sorting, filing, 
 and destroying, as their merits or demerits suggested. 
 
 The contents of his brother's letter-case lay before 
 him. The task he had devoted this morning to 
 was one he had been shrinking from ever since 
 Manton's death. He knew it was a duty he must 
 perform some time or other, but recognized no 
 necessity for haste in the matter. His brother's 
 unselfish and heroic death had wiped out so many 
 of the old scores against him that Stirling shrank 
 from what seemed like prying anew into his foibles 
 and weaknesses. He laid down his pen more than 
 once to clasp his hands together at the back of 
 his head, as he tilted his chair back, and stared re- 
 flectively out at the cedar birds, busy among the pur- 
 plish berries of the cedar trees that lent their ever- 
 greenness to his front yard. 
 
 To-morrow Christmas would be here once more.
 
 342 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Two years since, he had first been made welcome in a 
 Southern home. Two years since, he had first met 
 Ursula Ralston ; and it seemed to him quite that long 
 since he had been loving her with a single-hearted pur- 
 pose of marrying her if he could. What headway had 
 he made with these natives among whom he had cast 
 his lot for better or for worse? The majority he be- 
 lieved he had won over pretty thoroughly ; but what 
 did it avail him to capture the esteem and affection of 
 the ninety and nine whom he cared nothing for, so 
 long as the one hundredth, the stately, calm-eyed, one- 
 hundredth Ursula, maintained an attitude of reserve 
 that puzzled and pained him beyond expression ? 
 
 He could see her now, coming toward him through 
 the folding doors at Tievina, that pleasant Christmas 
 two years gone, like a messenger of peace and good- 
 will. Gently cordial and thoroughly friendly then, 
 when he had expected so little from her by way of first 
 greeting to the man whom sectional traditions presented 
 in the light of a foeman but now, when he had shown 
 her his heart, when he had grown to feel a daily need 
 for the frank comradeship that had marked the earlier 
 stages of their acquaintance, their intercourse had con- 
 gealed into studied courtesy. 
 
 They met only occasionally, more often at Thorn- 
 dale than elsewhere. 'Sula was Mrs. Thorn's chief stay 
 and prop during that dismal winter, and the major gave 
 much of his time to the stricken old man. But these
 
 WON OVER. 343 
 
 meetings were fraught with discomfort to both of them. 
 There was such a palpable effort to ignore the one pas- 
 sage in their lives that was omnipresent to both, that 
 each stood self-convicted of duplicity. 
 
 Stirling was wondering, as he sat there watching the 
 busy cedar birds, how they would all spend the day to- 
 morrow at Tievina, and would they think, of him. 
 Now that Manton was gone, he stood entirely alone in 
 the world, and his heart craved recognition in the uni- 
 versal brotherhood of humanity. But prolonged repin- 
 ing was altogether out of his mental routine ; so, shak- 
 ing himself very much after the fashion of a big New- 
 foundland dog ridding himself of a surplus of cold 
 water, he shook off what threatened to be an unusually 
 severe attack of the vapors, and fell vigorously to work 
 on the papers before him. 
 
 He came finally to a small black pocket diary, clasped 
 with a broad rubber band. The year 1862 was stamped 
 on the flap in gilt lettering. 
 
 " He was with the army in Virginia that year," the 
 major said, musingly, as he began turning over the 
 leaves that bore record to his brother's active service in 
 the Federal army. The events of the war were of too 
 recent occurrence, and his own participation in them 
 too real, for this record to possess any very vivid interest, 
 and he was skimming across the pages with heedless 
 haste when the name " Henry Ralston " started out 
 from the page before him, black and distinct.
 
 344 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE, 
 
 " Henry " contained no especial interest for him, but 
 Ralston was a name that must always arrest his atten- 
 tion ; that was why the following lines won a more care- 
 ful reading from him than he had yet bestowed on any 
 of the papers : 
 
 " Mem. Must endeavor to send through the lines a 
 gold watch and cameo ring, confided to my care by a 
 poor devil of a reb, who was shot through the side in 
 the engagement to-day, and taken prisoner by our boys. 
 Died in hospital at half past two o'clock. Asked for 
 an officer. I went to him. Begged I would send his 
 watch and ring to his wife. Gave me his name Henry 
 Ralston last gasp came before he could tell me any 
 more. He was a gentleman. Shall fulfill his wishes if 
 I ever find any body who can help me. This whole war 
 is an accursed piece of barbarism. That boy's face 
 he was hardly any thing more haunts me." 
 
 That was all. Stirling sat staring at the yellow pages 
 before him wistfully. He wished the record had been 
 fuller. Why had not Manton tried to discover this 
 poor fellow's wife after the war? No doubt the name, 
 even, had escaped his heedless head long before the 
 coming of peace rendered the fulfillment of the promise 
 possible. He knew that Ursula's husband had been 
 one of the victims of the war, but his name was never 
 mentioned. The Tievina people were not given to 
 egotistical gossiping, and he never could have brought 
 himself to find out from others what they did not
 
 WON OVER. 345 
 
 choose to impart voluntarily. This record left him in 
 doubt as to whether Manton had fulfilled the request 
 of the dying rebel soldier. Then he remembered that 
 when kind hands had prepared Manton for burial in 
 the little village grave-yard, some one had brought him 
 a box, telling him his friend's watch and other valu- 
 ables were in it. He turned to the drawer where he 
 had placed it when coming home after the funeral. It 
 was barely possible the watch in the box may have been 
 the watch of the bequest. He had never noticed it 
 particularly when his brother was wearing it, nor when 
 it had come into his own possession. He took it from 
 the box and examined it minutely. It was a double- 
 cased gold repeater, richly chased, but with no initials to 
 serve as a clew. He observed that it was of a peculiar 
 thickness. He opened it. The dial was like all watch 
 dials. He closed the face and opened the back. The 
 works seemed of ordinary construction, with the regu- 
 lation number of jewels, but the extra thickness was 
 certainly in the lid on this side. He examined 
 it minutely ; got up and went to the window for 
 the benefit of a better light. Opening his pocket-knife, 
 he ran the blade of it slowly and cautiously along 
 the rim, and struck a spring with a suddenness that 
 made him start. A thin disk of gold revolved on 
 tiny hinges and displayed to view, in the concave 
 back of the watch, a small ivory miniature of Ursula 
 Ralston.
 
 346 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Younger, brighter, more girlish in her beauty, shyer 
 of eye, but unmistakably Ursula Ralston. 
 
 Stirling Denny stood there a long time gazing upon 
 the picture of the woman he loved so dearly. Then he 
 closed the watch with a snap and put it in his own 
 pocket. He resolved to go immediately to Mr. South- 
 mead with the watch and Manton's diary. 
 
 He had been so absorbed in examination of the watch 
 that he had not noticed the entrance of a visitor ; a 
 soft-footed, mute-lipped, humble sort of a visitor, 
 nevertheless a visitor with an errand which he was 
 eager to do. An imperative bark announced this vis- 
 itor. " Mingo," Mr. Southmead's lemon-colored setter, 
 was standing there before him, his sides heaving, his 
 tongue lolling from his mouth, and anxiety of the 
 keenest sort filling his intelligent eyes. Standing or! 
 two feet, he placed his fore paws upon the major's arm, 
 and barked once more, quickly and imperatively. 
 
 " Down, sir. What's the trouble, boy ? Carl ? Any 
 thing wrong with Carl?" 
 
 At mention of the child's name, Mingo dropped to 
 his feet and started hastily for the door. Stirling 
 opened the lid of his desk and swept the scattered 
 papers inside, then stooped to lock the drawers. The 
 delay irritated Mingo, who said as much by another 
 impatient bark, as he halted in the open door to wait 
 for the major. 
 
 " I'm coming, boy. Is it Carl that wants me ? "
 
 WON OVER. 347 
 
 Mingo wagged his tail assentingly, and once more 
 started. The invitation to follow him was too pointed 
 to be neglected. Major Denny knew that Carl and 
 Mingo were inseparable. The boy, on his small and 
 trusty pony, attended by the intelligent setter, was 
 granted large liberty by Mr. and Mrs. Southmead. 
 The major was soon in the saddle, and, following the 
 dog's lead, galloped to a spot in the woods scarce a 
 mile from the house, where he promptly discovered the 
 occasion of Mingo's summons. Carl's pony was tied 
 securely to the branch of a tree. Near by, at the root 
 of another tree, lay Carl himself, writhing in all the 
 torture of a broken right arm, and crying with fright 
 at his own forsaken and helpless condition. The major 
 lifted him tenderly in his arms, and seated himself on 
 a fallen log to examine into the extent of his injuries. 
 
 4< What is it, my man ? " he asked. " Mingo told me 
 all he could, but I expect you can tell me more." 
 
 " I was a comin' I was a comin', 1 ' Carl gasped, " to 
 see you and tell you mamma wanted you to come take 
 Christmas with us, and a lame squirrel went hoppin' so 
 slow up the tree that I thought I could catch it, and I 
 was tryin' to, and I fell out of the tree, and, oh ! I'm 
 broke all to pieces. It hurts so bad. Will it kill me?" 
 
 "That was what Mingo tried to tell me," said Stirl- 
 ing, talking and examining bones simultaneously ; 
 " and now you know just how a wounded soldier feels, 
 only nobody ever dies of a broken arm."
 
 348 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 Carl suddenly developed into a hero in his own esti- 
 mation. It made him forget half his pain to be likened 
 to the wounded soldiers he was never tired of hearing 
 about. He smiled up into the face of his friend, then 
 laid his little head confidingly on Stirling's breast. 
 
 " But we will have to get home. To my house, I 
 mean. We are not going to be cheated out of that 
 visit, are we? I'm going to show you how we fix sol- 
 diers' bones when they get broken. We'll play soldier 
 in hospital." 
 
 "What will we do with my pony?" asks Carl, 
 twisting his head to where the pony was heartlessly 
 nibbling at the branch he was tied to. The movement 
 caused a spasm of agony in the broken arm. " Oh, I'm 
 broke all to pieces. I ache everywhere," he moaned, 
 his blue eyes filling with sudden tears. 
 
 " Poor little man." Stirling pressed his cheeks to 
 the small wet face with infinite gentleness. " Wounded 
 soldiers have to endure a great deal of agony. We 
 must send Mingo home to explain matters to them. 
 Could you stand up, quite still, you know, while I write 
 a note to your father ? Now then, don't wink an eye- 
 lid even, if you can help it." 
 
 Standing the boy on his feet, and hastily tearing a 
 leaf from his pocket diary, the major wrote in pencil 
 to Mr. Southmead and read aloud to Carl : 
 
 " Dear friend Southmead : Your brave boy has hurt 
 himself slightly in trying to climb a tree a little too
 
 WON OVER. 349 
 
 tall for his small but ambitious legs. He is at my 
 house, where he wants you and Mrs. Southmead to 
 join him for the night." 
 
 " Is that all right, Carl? " he asked, preparing to fold 
 the note and tie it up in his handkerchief for Mingo's 
 convenience in carrying. 
 
 " I want Cozzie too," says Carl, wishfully. 
 
 " So do I, my boy and she must come to us some- 
 time yes, sometime." He laid a caressing hand on 
 the boy's rumpled curls, and smiled gravely down into 
 the small, pale face. " Now then," he added, more 
 lightly, " let us see what sort of a postman Mingo will 
 make. Here, boy. Take it home. As for this gentle- 
 man," loosing the pony's hitch-rein, " he can take him- 
 self home. Mingo will beat him there, so the empty 
 saddle won't cause any alarm." 
 
 Mingo was already trotting briskly homeward with 
 the knot of the handkerchief between his teeth. 
 
 " Now then, Carl, you are going to Rossmere on my 
 lap. A little bit unsoldierlike, maybe, but we mustn't 
 jolt that poor arm any more than we can help." He 
 lifted the boy in his arms, and, mounting his horse, 
 started slowly toward Rossmere. 
 
 "Why don't you take me to my house ?" Carl asked. 
 
 The major laughed lightly, and answered, mys- 
 teriously : 
 
 " A little bit of strategy, my boy. All is fair in love 
 and war, Carl. But," more seriously, " don't you want
 
 35 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 to go to my house ? It is miles nearer, you know, and 
 we can get the doctor ever so much sooner." 
 
 " I don't care ; yes, I want to go to your house. 
 Aunt Maria made nice things when you was sick and 
 papa was nursing you. But Coz must come." 
 
 And the young man echoed the child's words in a 
 low, passionate voice : " Yes, she must come, my boy ; 
 we need her, you and I." 
 
 Toward midnight of the same day Stirling and Mr. 
 Southmead sat over the library fire at Rossmere in 
 earnest conversation. Mr. and Mrs. Southmead had 
 arrived in an incredibly short time after Mingo's 
 delivery of the note. They found the doctor there 
 before them, and Carl's broken arm already set. It 
 was the major's way of saving the mother pain ; which 
 act of consideration had won Mrs. Southmead over 
 with a suddenness and entireness that had an element 
 of the comical in it. 
 
 The major had told Mr. Southmead that after Carl 
 and Mrs. Southmead had both gone to bed, he wanted 
 to see him in the library. He gave him Manton's war 
 diary, open at the page concerning Henry Ralston, and 
 the watch which had been in his brother's possession. 
 
 "What does it all mean?" he asked, leaning against 
 the back of his chair, with his heart beating like a trip- 
 hammer. 
 
 " Thank God ! " Mr. Southmead rose in his excite- 
 ment, turned round aimlessly, and sat down again.
 
 WON OVER. 351 
 
 "Thank God for what?" Stirling asked. 
 
 " For this final solution of all our doubts." 
 
 " There have been doubts, then ? " 
 
 " Bushels of them. Enough to keep as conscientious 
 a creature as our 'Sula wearing the willow for a life- 
 time, if they'd never been solved." 
 
 "Tell me about it, please." 
 
 " Well, you see, there's nothing to tell. He never 
 came home, and we took it for granted he was dead ; 
 but we've never had a scrap of evidence to that effect ; 
 this is the very first. I regard this as conclusive don't 
 you? " 
 
 " Then you are thanking God that Henry Ralston is 
 dead ? " 
 
 " Not that exactly, Denny. You're deucedly par- 
 ticular, aren't you ? But I do thank God that my dear 
 girl up yonder will no longer have any thing to feed 
 her morbid fancy on." 
 
 " She has been fanciful, then ? " Stirling says, with 
 an eager ring in his voice. 
 
 " Deucedly so ! " 
 
 " Then I thank God too ! " 
 
 The low, fervent tones of his voice enlightened Mr. 
 Southmead. 
 
 " Hey ! what?" He got up again in his excitement, 
 but this time it was to wring the major's hand till it 
 tino-led. "You don't mean to tell me, Denny " 
 
 o 
 
 " That I. love your niece with all my heart."
 
 35 2 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 " God bless my soul. I'm really delighted to hear 
 you say so. If I'd have dared wish for just such a 
 coming together of the blue and the gray, I'd have 
 done it months ago." 
 
 " I did dare it months ago," Stirling said, with alow, 
 light-hearted laugh, " and have never quite recovered 
 from the chill of her frozen repulse." 
 
 "All sentimental bosh ! 'Sula's a good girl. There 
 never was a better. But Henry Ralston never did get 
 into the heart of her heart ; and I think her long 
 mourning for him has been a sort of penance of con- 
 science. She was too much his superior to look up to 
 him. He was a rollicking, race-riding, jolly chap, 
 whom no one could help liking for his amiability and 
 generous nature. He fairly teased her into marrying 
 him. They had been married only a month or two, 
 when he went off to the army, and never was heard of 
 after the first few months until now. But if he had 
 lived to come back, she's just the sort of woman to have 
 devoted her whole life to his comfort and happiness, 
 and he was just the sort of man to accept the sacrifice 
 of a woman's life in perfect unconsciousness of any self- 
 ishness on his own part. You know there are such 
 men, Denny." 
 
 " Plenty of them," Stirling answered, absently, for 
 just then he was rehearsing a scene in which 'Sula was 
 to reverse that coldly spoken " Let it be less, then," 
 and to tell him it should be more, between her and him.
 
 WON OVER. 353 
 
 Mrs. Southmead was sleeping so soundly, after her 
 fright about Carl, that her husband magnanimously 
 reserved his news about Henry Ralston and the major 
 and 'Sula for the next morning, during the period of 
 dressing, when so many conjugal interchanges of vary- 
 ing complexion find expression. 
 
 Mrs. Southmead listened with rapt attention, then 
 violently relinquished the last vestige of sectional ani- 
 mosity for their mortal foe. 
 
 " He is certainly a remarkable man," she said, refer- 
 ring to Stirling. " He has the attributes of a truly 
 great man, George. Calmness in the hour of danger, 
 good judgment, promptness of execution, and, with it 
 all, the tender heart of a woman." 
 
 " Won over at last," Mr. Southmead exclaimed, in 
 indiscreet triumph. 
 
 " Won over ! " says Mrs. Southmead, mendaciously. 
 " I'm sure I've always maintained that Major Denny 
 was quite out of the ordinary run. I've always liked 
 him, but now " 
 
 " You adore him. That's all right. So do I, so does 
 Carl, so does " 
 
 " Cozzie," suggests Carl, always mindful of his own 
 best love. 
 
 " Cozzie is a spiteful witch. She wouldn't come with 
 us to see you when you were hurt. We'll have nothing 
 to do with her hereafter. Let's give her away to Major 
 Denny. He knows how to manage spiteful folks,"
 
 354 '1 '//A' NE W MA NAT ROSSMERE. 
 
 " He'll make her come," Carl said, in his positive 
 way ; " he said he wanted her too ; I heard him." 
 
 At which his father laughs so joyously that Carl con- 
 ceitedly imagines he has said something strikingly 
 funny.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 CONCLU SIGN . 
 
 HE could be taken home, but he shall not." 
 Thus dictatorially the major delivered him- 
 self, standing over Carl's bed and looking down upon 
 that small hero with his most luminous smile. 
 
 "But Ursula?" Mrs. Southmead said, hesitantly. 
 
 " I am going to drive over for her and Fred imme- 
 diately after breakfast. I claim the whole Tievina 
 household as my guests to-day. What shall I say to 
 the cousin for you, Carl ? " he asked, passing a caress- 
 ing hand over the boy's rumpled curls. 
 
 " Tell her if she will come I'll be real glad I fell out 
 the tree. It's jolly over here." 
 
 The major laughed, and promised to deliver this 
 message verbatim. 
 
 Ursula was standing at one of the front windows, 
 wafching with keen anxiety for some message from the 
 household pet, when she saw Major Denny's bay 
 horses turn from the public road and trot briskly 
 toward the Tievina gate. 
 
 Things must be very bad with Carl, for him to be the 
 messenger. She met him at the door, white and 
 trembling.
 
 356 THE NEW MAN AT ROSSMERE. 
 
 " You bring me bad news," she said, stretching both 
 hands toward him as if seeking support. 
 
 He clasped them together in one of his own, and, 
 holding them so, led her back into the room. Carl 
 was just then so entirely secondary that he was not as 
 prompt as he should have been in relieving her anxiety. 
 He discovered that she was trembling, and gently 
 placed her in a chair. 
 
 " I beg your pardon for prolonging your anxiety by 
 one second. No, I do not bring you bad news. Carl 
 is doing very well. He is in no manner of danger." 
 Then he delivered the boy's message. 
 
 'Sula blushed confusedly, then blushed worse with 
 vexation at her helpless embarrassment. 
 
 " Mrs. Ralston," Stirling said, going about his errand 
 with his usual straightforwardness, " I have come to 
 make one more trial of your gentle patience with those 
 who offend you. Neither you nor I, I'm sure, have 
 ever met since that morning at Thorndale without a 
 conscious effort at indifference toward each other. I 
 acknowledge that I have been playing a part, and play- 
 ing it miserably poorly at that. Will you be as honest ? 
 I am tired of my role ; bow is it with you dear ? " 
 
 " I thought," said 'Sula, looking at .him piteously, 
 " that you had accepted the inevitable, and 
 
 "Does that word inevitable (pardon the interruption, 
 but I have come here determined to get behind words 
 to things) have reference to your state of feeling? If
 
 CONCLUSION. 357 
 
 you will say to me that you do not care enough for me 
 to marry me under any circumstances, I will go away 
 from you and never trouble you again, Will you say 
 that ? " 
 
 She was as dumb before him as a sheep before its 
 shearers. 
 
 " Ursula, do you love me ? " 
 
 " I did not know you could be so merciless," she 
 cried, getting up and walking away from him to the 
 fireplace, where she stood looking down into the danc- 
 ing flames with burning eyes and cheeks. 
 
 " I must be answered," he said ; " it is you who are 
 the merciless one. Is it because you have doubts 
 about your right to love and marry again that you 
 refuse me the comfort of your society?" 
 
 A tremor throughout her slender form was all his 
 answer. He bent over her, and gently possessing him- 
 self of her hand, compelled her to look him honestly in 
 the face. 
 
 " If a voice from the dead assured you of your free- 
 dom, would you still withhold the gift of this dear 
 hand, Ursula?" 
 
 " If a voice from the dead assured me of my free- 
 dom, I would let my heart answer yours," she said, 
 with tender gravity. 
 
 "A voice from the dead has spoken, and you are 
 mine. Oh, my darling, my sweet, I have been very 
 patient."
 
 358 THE NE W MAN A T ROSSMERE. 
 
 He placed the watch and the diary in her hand, and, 
 walking away from her, stood staring out on the wintry 
 landscape. Ursula looked at them in mute wonder for 
 a second. Then Stirling heard her say, in a voice of 
 such pure pity that his heart leaped within him for 
 very gladness. 
 
 " Poor Harry ! Poor, poor boy ! " 
 
 Then he waited in patient silence for more. She 
 came over to him presently, and stood silently by his 
 side. The watch and diary were in her left hand. Her 
 eyes seemed to have grown suddenly deeper and darker. 
 It was as if her long-imprisoned emotions were seeking 
 an outlet through them. 
 
 " Well ? " It was all he could find voice for. 
 
 She laid her hand in his. " Let it be as you wish, 
 my friend." Then he gathered her into, his strong 
 arms in as unconditional a surrender as rebel heart ever 
 yielded to wearer of the blue. 
 
 The next new year saw Ursula Denny reigning in 
 absolute power over a home of her own her most 
 loyal subject the new man at Rossmere. 
 
 Frederic and Carl are divided in their allegiance to 
 their two homes. Mrs. Southmead declares that Major 
 Denny's influence is so beneficial to the boys that she 
 can not be jealous of their devotion to their Yankee 
 cousin-in-law.
 
 CONCLUSION. 359 
 
 Squire Thorn outlived the tragedy he had precipitated 
 not quite a year. He died with a blessing on his lips 
 for the patient wife who never faltered in well-doing. 
 The few hard years of her life at Thorndale bore heav- 
 ily upon the magnificent physique of the squire's wife. 
 She turned from its doors when duty no longer bound 
 her there, without one sigh of regret. The place had 
 never been a home to her. The Dennys opened their 
 hearts and their doors to her in her forlorn widowhood, 
 but she staid with them only a little while, then flitted 
 from the sheltering affection they offered. 
 
 " She deserved a happier lot," Ursula said, wiping a 
 tear of pity from her eye as she waved a last adieu to 
 the black-clad figure standing upon the guards of the 
 boat to get a final glimpse of the two friends she was 
 leaving behind her. 
 
 "And she will yet have it," said .the major, cheer- 
 fully. " She is young. She will outlive this dreary 
 episode in her life. She will bless some man's heart 
 and home yet." 
 
 " And be blessed, I hope as blessed as I am, dear," 
 said the major's wife, who had not yet outgrown the 
 trick of blushing very prettily when her own feelings 
 came to the surface. 
 
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