THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 PRYOR, Rosrer Atkinson, judge; b. Din- 
 widdle Co.. Va.. July 19, 1828: *. Rev. Theodo- 
 rlck Bland ami I.u.-v (Atkinson) r. ; grad. 
 Hampden Sidney Coll.. isir, (LJ..I>.i. U. of Va.. 
 1848; m. Sara A'srn* . NOT. 8. 1848. 
 
 Admitted to bar, 1849; editor South Side Demo 
 crat, PetershurK, Va., Kiiciui; T :md The South. 
 Richmond. Bevi'tM I >TS.; I'.s. .-pi. inli:i>ii r t-, 
 Greece, 1- b Contcress (1859- 
 
 Cl), rt'elfcicd to :; u did not 
 
 si-rvi-; di'l. to | leratc CongreM 
 
 and mem. Isi 
 
 1862; entered C.s A 
 
 16, 18ti2: rr^iKin-il cniunin. nii( 
 
 A.luiilli'd tu V.V. h;ir. l^' v 
 
 IM.I; ''0; cji'l 
 
 ol' ('-mimon o 1; jm 
 
 Ct.J 
 
 resumed law 
 69th St., New York.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO , LIMITED 
 
 LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA 
 MELBOURNE 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. 
 
 TORONTO
 
 THE COLONEL'S 
 STORY 
 
 MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON AND HER 
 TIMES," "REMINISCENCES OF PEACE AND WAR*' 
 
 Nefo gcrfc 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1911 
 
 All rigbtt rtttr-vtd
 
 CorrucHT, 1911, 
 BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 
 
 S up and electrotyped. Publitotd March, 1911. IUprintd 
 April, 1911. 
 
 Tfrnn 
 
 J. 8. Oiuhlof Co. Berwick A Smith Co. 
 Norwood, MAM^
 
 QTo tfje 
 
 OF 
 MY DEAR ADOPTIVE MOTHER 
 
 MARY BLAIR HARGRAVE 
 
 TO WHOM I OWE ALL THAT I AM 
 AND MAY HOPE TO BE
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 As I write of the Colonel, he seems to stand 
 before me : handsome, deferential, and with a 
 certain repose of bearing, ever the hall-mark of a 
 gentleman. 
 
 He was wont to say of himself, " I am like a 
 N weather-beaten old oak : of small use in the 
 J, landscape, but with a sheltering arm still, and, 
 > please God, a sound heart." 
 
 I can hardly imagine any one who less re 
 sembled the king of the forest. If it be neces- 
 $ sary to illustrate the Colonel by a tree of some 
 * kind, I might liken him, in his grey suit, to a silver 
 
 2 birch ; tall and straight, and well lichened at the 
 g top with grey moss. 
 
 3 Little Dorothea Berkeley could remember no 
 time when he was not an honoured guest of her 
 house. Her sister Shirley recollected well when 
 he first came. Shirley was ten years old ; but 
 Dorothea's little spirit had just been given to 
 their sweet young mother, and although she was 
 
 44334O
 
 4 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 present at the time of his arrival, she was not in a 
 condition to observe events. 
 
 He had been invited by Dr. Berkeley, along 
 with other distant parishioners of the country 
 church, to dine after service. An afternoon 
 storm prevented the return home of the guests 
 of that day. The next day Shirley overheard 
 her mother say to her father : " I haven't the heart 
 to let poor James go back to his desolate home. 
 Let's ask him to spend the week with us." 
 
 "Desolate ?" exclaimed her husband. 
 
 "Miss Nancy was a good woman, Charles ! 
 Just and upright in all her dealings." 
 
 "God forbid I should deny it," said the Doctor. 
 "The actions of such are supposed to blossom in 
 the dust. If they do, Jim will find under the 
 willows a fine crop of a peculiarly thorny species 
 of cactus." 
 
 "James is not looking well," rejoined his wife. 
 
 "Of course not," the Doctor said. "He misses 
 his tonic his daily stimulus. He is suffering 
 from void and depression. Just wait until I 
 find another spirited housekeeper for him and 
 he'll be all right. I had hard work yesterday to 
 bring him home with me. He resisted at first 
 'out of respect to poor Nancy's memory.' ' 
 
 On the night of this visit of the Colonel's he
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 5 
 
 had slept, because of the overflowing house, in 
 the "office, " by which name the Virginia planter 
 dignified a small building in a corner of his 
 grounds provided to serve as the master's 
 cabinet d'affaires, where he might, undisturbed, 
 give audience to his servants, transact his 
 business, and incidentally lodge the young men 
 of his house-parties. 
 
 The Colonel never afterwards slept anywhere 
 else. For a long time it was his custom on Mon 
 days to express regret that he " must leave some 
 time during the day," and the Doctor as regu 
 larly invited him to stay another week. In 
 telling Dorothea this, Shirley added: "He is 
 just like Isaac Watts ! Sir Thomas Abney in 
 vited Isaac Watts to spend a night at Stoke 
 Newington and he staid forty years." 
 
 The first keen consciousness of every child is 
 awakened by some unusual event in the routine of 
 its life ; and yet, having no past as a standard of 
 the reasonable and natural, few things surprise 
 children. Presently something happens so tran- 
 scendently delicious that a new life dates from it, 
 and it never ceases to be a vivid memory. 
 
 One event in little Dorothea's child life stood 
 thus apart. She had run away from her nurse 
 as she was conducted through the great hall,
 
 6 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 and had followed the Colonel into the Holy of 
 Holies, the parlour. He stood by the high man 
 tel-shelf, looking at the articles thereon some 
 of which he had presented to Mrs. Berkeley on 
 his return from his last visit abroad. Looking 
 down, he espied the infant with upturned face, 
 and instantly she found herself swept upward in 
 his strong arms to a giddy seat on his shoulder, 
 that he might introduce her, as he said, to the 
 Arts and Sciences. There she was, face to face 
 with objects she had worshipped from a distance 
 the stately figures of the philosophers in an 
 engraving of the School of Athens, a little marble 
 Venus, and a Wedgwood reproduction of the 
 Barberini Vase. This last she might "kiss but 
 not touch." It had been broken and mended, 
 foreshadowing the fate, some years later, of its 
 famous prototype. The child gazed long and 
 wonderingly at its mystical figures : the timid 
 soul fearfully entering the land of shadows, the 
 little Love looking back and lighting the way 
 with his torch. In her ecstasy she threw the 
 fetter of a baby arm around the Colonel's neck, 
 and then and there made him her thrall forever. 
 A joyous child life had followed that day, en 
 riched at every step by the Colonel's kindness. 
 Shirley and Dorothea had the freedom of his
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 7 
 
 two- roomed apartment in the yard the Doctor 
 having discreetly retired. He allowed them to 
 roast apples on his hearth, where the juices could 
 run without let or hindrance. They even coaxed 
 an occasional partridge or sora from Hannah the 
 cook, and roasted it to perfection, suspended by a 
 string from his mantel to revolve slowly before 
 the glowing coals. They took the Colonel with 
 them chestnutting and chinquapinning, making 
 him open prematurely the prickly burrs. More 
 over he was retained as counsel when Dorothea 
 was arraigned for breaking the laws of the land. 
 And an able advocate he was ! He never lost a 
 cause. Only after flagrant acts of lese majeste 
 was counsel indispensable such, for instance, as 
 putting a night-cap on the sacred bust of Patrick 
 Henry ! Knowledge of the child's lesser crimes 
 rarely reached the foot of the throne. The 
 self-constituted Prosecuting Attorney, Hannah, 
 so quick to threaten, so eager to indemnify by a 
 tart or cooky, was quite capable of corruption 
 through a bribe and of consequent malfeasance in 
 office. Everybody caressed the baby of the 
 house, whose enterprise expanded with her years 
 and opportunities. An active, inquisitive child, 
 running freely among the busy workers of an in 
 dustrious Virginia household, might easily develop
 
 8 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 like de Quincey's brother "a capacity for 
 mischief amounting to inspiration." 
 
 After a while the Colonel forgot the usual Mon 
 day courtesies, and nothing more was said of the 
 possibility of his leaving Berkeley Castle. His 
 own inherited plantation, with a comfortable 
 house and old-fashioned garden, was five or six 
 miles away, and thither he went occasionally to 
 consult the old family servant who was his over 
 seer. He was quite alone in the world. He had 
 no family ties or obligations ; had lost his parents 
 while he was a student at Annapolis and been 
 taken under the wing of his uncle, Admiral Ap 
 Catesby Jones, then commander of the Pacific 
 squadron. He was with the Admiral on the 
 memorable occasion when a false rumour of our 
 conquest of Mexico reached him, and caused him 
 to plant the United States flag prematurely on 
 the walls of Monterey. Our Colonel had 
 wearied of the sea, resigned from the navy, trav 
 elled abroad, returned and studied law, pursuing 
 the practice, as he said, until it fled from him. 
 Restless and lonely, he occupied himself some 
 times in politics, sometimes in fitful experiments 
 in farming. He had entertained various schemes 
 and abandoned them, had invented a labour- 
 saving machine of some sort, which was not
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 9 
 
 patented in time to prevent the use of a similar 
 invention by somebody else. In this last experi 
 ment he was fully aware that his ideas had been 
 seized and utilized by another ; but he was con 
 tent that it should be so. He had enjoyed his 
 own part of it, and his competitor was quite 
 welcome to the material profit. Any other re 
 sult would have been an innovation in the history 
 of his race. Like Renan's ancestors "they pos 
 sessed at least one proof of their nobility that 
 whenever they attempted to engage in any com 
 mercial business, they were sure to be defrauded." 
 They were too fastidious, sensitive, proud, orwhat 
 not, to press forward and help themselves first. 
 "When it came to taking the best piece out of a 
 dish which was handed round, their natural po 
 liteness stood in the way." It is curious to find a 
 brilliant Frenchman of that day expressing just 
 the sentiments which controlled the old Virginian 
 and for which he is so often ridiculed ; that 
 "the pursuit of wealth is not the pursuit of a 
 gentleman, and that it is a more respectable and 
 honourable position, indicative of a higher 
 breeding and a finer taste, to be decently poor 
 than to be even decently affluent." 
 
 Having enough land to keep himself, his la 
 bourers, and cattle in comfort, help the poor and
 
 io THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 the church, it never occurred to the Colonel that 
 any obligation rested upon him to increase his 
 fortune. He was a dreamer, and he was rich 
 enough at least to indulge in dreaming. Accord 
 ing to the ancient poet, dreams reach mortals 
 through two gates. One, the gate of horn, ad 
 mits prophetic fancies ; the other, the white 
 and shining gate of ivory, through which 
 pass alluring, illusory dreams. Our Colonel's 
 dreams all passed through the gate of ivory ! 
 Withal he was delightfully gentle and amiable, 
 a man of refined tastes, and the soul of honour 
 and chivalry of the highest type. He had 
 always known Dr. Berkeley and his lovely wife, 
 and with them he unconsciously cast his lot, 
 happier in their home than he had ever been 
 in all his life of thirty-five years, years which 
 had prematurely whitened his hair, so that he 
 seemed older. 
 
 One morning in the early spring the Colonel 
 appeared with the most charming little country 
 wagon, to which was hitched his spirited "Con 
 queror." "You will ruin his gait," said the 
 Doctor, "if he dawdles along country lanes, 
 stopping every five minutes for the children to dig 
 ferns ! It's a shame, James, to degrade your 
 racer in this way."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY n 
 
 "Oh, I have given him up, "laughed the Colonel. 
 "I've rechristened him ' Primrose* and consigned 
 him to tread hereafter the paths of dalliance." 
 Many and happy were the afternoons spent in 
 hunting for arbutus, or butterfly orchids, or the 
 curling fronds of the early ferns. 
 
 But the happiest of all afternoons of all 
 the afternoons in all the world were spent by the 
 little party in a charming fairy glen in the woods. 
 Shirley, who had been sent to school in New York, 
 was home for the Easter holidays, and the Colonel 
 had cleared this spot of all debris, sticks, leaves, 
 and undergrowth, smoothed the grass to velvety 
 softness, and there under the trees the sixteen- 
 year-old beauty held court. No wheel-tracks nor 
 hoof-prints led to this glen. Dorothea planted 
 a great ring of grass in the moss, that the fairies, 
 dancing by moonlight, might find at hand stems 
 on which to hang their cups. By day they were 
 all gone to fairy-land, and she installed her flower- 
 maidens, the blossoms of wild azalea and yellow 
 jessamine, capped them with the little yellow 
 lady-slippers, and set their tables with dainty 
 cups-and-saucers of white narcissus. 
 
 Thoroughly delightful was the talk inspired 
 by the delicious little flowers. The Colonel could 
 tell wonderful floral legends, many of which he
 
 12 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 probably invented, and which cannot, therefore, 
 be given to the truthful pages of this story. But 
 one, the loveliest of all, was how the lily-of-the- 
 valley came to be. "Fairies, you must know," 
 said the Colonel, "are under strict government. 
 They need it. They are volatile, giddy little 
 creatures, and would dance themselves to death if 
 allowed to follow their own sweet will. They must 
 always dance within a charmed ring to keep the 
 brownies away, for fairies belong to the aris 
 tocracy and cannot keep low company. More 
 over they are never permitted to be surprised by 
 the dawn or by anything else ! They must be 
 up and away before the moon goes down. 
 
 "Once they had a particularly good time. 
 They hung on the grass the little cups in which 
 they were to gather the morning dew, and were so 
 happy at their ball that the rising sun surprised 
 them. Running for their cups to collect the 
 Queen's breakfast draught, each one was found to 
 be fastened tight to the slender stem on which it 
 hung. The little fairies wept so piteously that 
 broad green leaves were mercifully permitted to 
 grow around the cups, completely hiding the 
 evidences of disobedience. One must look under 
 these leaves for lilies-of-the-valley." 
 
 Primrose was always tethered at a safe dis-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 13 
 
 tance, where his hoofs and nibbling could not in 
 jure the treasures of the glen, treasures of 
 moss, violets, harebells, lady-slippers, cardinal- 
 flowers, which fringed the brook and leaned 
 over to drink at the little stream running away 
 down the centre of the glen. Great willows 
 arched above the small Paradise, allowing just 
 enough sunshine to gem the brook with diamonds. 
 There Dorothea scooped out tiny grottos, paving 
 them with pebbles, and reared fairy castles car 
 peted with moss ; while the Colonel, having piled 
 the wagon-cushions for a seat for Shirley, would 
 draw from his pocket a small volume, Shelley 
 or Keats, and read aloud delicious selections 
 describing just such fairy glens as this. 
 
 Shirley had grown to be tall and straight as a 
 young cedar, and beautiful exceedingly. She 
 would clasp her long arms about her knees with a 
 far-away look in her eyes, and far away from 
 Shelley or Keats or the good Colonel, there is 
 every reason to believe, were all her thoughts. 
 
 A wonderful, long-stemmed flower bloomed in 
 this glen, not a pansy, but a deep velvet violet, 
 never seen elsewhere. "They are like Shirley," 
 said the Colonel; "born in the purple, very re 
 served and stately, and yet stretching slender 
 necks for a peep at the world."
 
 I 4 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 The Colonel was attended in these expedi 
 tions by a little negro boy of a blackness 
 exceeding the traditional ace of spades, and 
 wonderfully shrewd and observant. His arrival 
 on the plantation had been coincident with a 
 visit of the Colonel's a few years before Doro 
 thea was born. A message from Hannah the 
 cook had come early one morning, that "Marse 
 Jeems would please find a notable name for a 
 mighty fine boy." 
 
 The Colonel had gravely considered the 
 matter and had, as a committee of one upon 
 name and title, reported "Pizarro" as altogether 
 suitable. 
 
 In the first place the boy, like the illustrious 
 Spaniard, "was of obscure lineage, not likely to 
 receive countenance or support from his father." 
 Secondly, he had at an early age evinced ability 
 as a conqueror and destroyer. Had he not held 
 captive the great Purveyor of the realm, thereby 
 subjecting the inhabitants thereof to comparative 
 subjection ? 
 
 Hannah appreciated the distinction conferred 
 upon her offspring. Among her acquaintances 
 were Washingtons, Jeffersons, Randolphs, even 
 a Rochambeau, unhappily corrupted into "Rush- 
 ingbow, " - but she was Queen Mother of the one
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 15 
 
 and only Pizarro. The boy was early promoted 
 to the service of his sponsor. When it chanced 
 that a visitor observed the droll little fellow and 
 inquired his name, he would gravely answer, 
 "Body servant to the Gunnel, sah."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE Colonel would sometimes, on the way 
 home from the glen, take the reins in his own 
 hands, and bidding Pizarro run before to let down 
 the bars in fences that crossed the road, he would 
 turn Primrose's head down a grassy lane leading 
 out from the woods, that he might "speak to 
 Mrs. Bangs," i.e. convey to her a well-stocked 
 basket from Berkeley Castle. 
 
 He would dismount at a well with a "sweep," 
 - the stout trunk of a young tree, weighted with 
 stones at one end and holding a bucket at the 
 other, and, unhooking Primrose's check-rein, 
 would direct Pizarro to draw a pail of water for 
 his refreshment, while he went forward to find 
 Mrs. Bangs. She usually came out to her bound 
 ary fence and leaned upon it as she talked. 
 A troop of carrot-headed children gathered 
 around her, she, her children, her house, and all 
 belonging to it, an unbroken consonance of thrift 
 less poverty. Even the geranium in a box on an 
 old stump had early given up the ghost, utterly re- 
 
 16
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 17 
 
 fusing to make an effort towards leaf or blossom. 
 The earth all around her dwelling was trodden 
 bare and brown, and bare and brown were the 
 feet of the tramplers. Mrs. Bangs tall, gaunt, 
 depressed had an inimitable way of picking 
 up and even anticipating the Colonel's questions 
 and weaving answers into a subtle expression of 
 her troubles and needs. 
 
 "Won't Miss Shirley an' Dolly 'light ? Wall 
 I can't blame 'em. Oh, no, sir, the pea-fowl won't 
 skeer yo' horse. He ain't wild. He jus* feel 
 sorter 'shamed an' naked-like 'cause I pulled out 
 his tail feathers yistiddy. That's why he's 
 runnin'. No, sir, I ain't sellin' 'em this spring. 
 It's little I've got to set off my front room, let 
 alone sellin' my pea-fowl feathers. Run in, sister, 
 an' tell Ma'y Jane to sen' out them las' feathers 
 to show little Dolly. Thank ye, Cunnel ! the 
 meal lasted toler'ble well an' the bacon, too. 
 They jus' about giv'n out now. I wouldn' 
 mine havin' a quarter o' lamb an' a few pounds o' 
 flour ; 'twould be a sort o' change. Mr. 
 Bates ? No, sir, - - I ain't see Mr. Bates for a 
 mont' or mo'. You needn' sen' word to him to 
 come aroun'. We can git along. 'Tain't no use 
 for Mr. Bates to come here, settin' an' theein' an' 
 thou'm' me 'bout bringin' up the chillern indust-
 
 18 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 trus. T want to know what he knows 'bout 
 chillern ! He am' nuver been down with nine, 
 an' up ergin to do fur 'em ; let alone mumps 
 an' chicken-pox, an' hoopin' cough an' measles ! 
 Hit's mighty easy talkin'. I hear folks say them 
 Quakers nuver speaks onless the sperrit moves 
 'em. The sperrit cert'nly is spry roun' Mr. 
 Bates when he comes here. Hit nuver moves 
 him to give us nothin' ! He ain't give us a cent, 
 nor a peck o' meal ; jus' sets 'roun' an' talks re 
 ligion. Maybe he thinks he can convert me an' 
 Ma'y Jane to be Quakers ; but Ma'y Jane can't 
 no ways abide them Quaker bunnets. She kin 
 make her own bunnets, an' they are right tasty 
 but Ma'y Jane say she never could make them 
 box-pleat Quaker crowns she never could get 
 'em to set. No, sir, I ain't hear a word from Mr. 
 Bangs. Thar's them as says we fout 'fore he lef 
 me. Mr. Bangs never strucken me a lick sence 
 I was the mother of six an' I 'low 'twas my fault 
 then : answerin' of him back when he was wo' out 
 with the chillern. 'Tain't likely he'd wait twel I 
 was the mother o' nine ef he was layin' out for to 
 leave me. No, sir, we didn't have no words 
 mo'n common. I never did hold with lettin' 
 no man call me ha'sh names 'thouten me sayin' 
 the same words back at 'im. Ther wornt no
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 19 
 
 onfrennliness jes' to let 'im see how them 
 words soun's. He jus' up an' tole me he was goin' 
 for a walk, two mont's ago come nex' Sunday, an' 
 he took an' slip out the back do' an' I ain't see 
 him sence. He'll come back befo' frost, I reckon. 
 He nuver done no work no how in summer-time, 
 'cept'nhuntin' the weasel when he come terrefyin' 
 the chickens. Sence he went away I los' fo* 
 of my forwardes' pullets. I cert'nly was sorry 
 he carried his gun with 'im. The hawks pester 
 me tumble with my young chickens ; an' Tom 
 he kin shoot jus' as well as his Pa. Oh, thank ye, 
 Gunnel ! Thank ye ! Tom'll cert'nly be proud 
 to have a gun ! His Pa needn' hurry home now. 
 Well, you goin' ? I cert'nly am obleeged to you 
 for callin' by. Good-bye, Miss Shirley ! Ask yo' 
 Pa please to drop by an' see Ma'y Jane. Ask 
 him to bring her a race or two o' ginger. She 
 'pears right down poly an' peaked this spring 
 don't do nothin' but jus* set an' set ; an', oh, 
 Miss Shirley ! 'Fo' you git out o' hearin' ask 
 Miss Prissy to len' me the loan of her sleeve 
 pattern. Ma'y Jane can't get her cornsent to go 
 to meetin' in them skimpy sleeves o' hern an' 
 thar's goin' to be a baptizin' a mont' from nex' 
 Sunday. An', oh, Gunnel!" But Primrose had 
 quickened his pace and shaken the Bangs dust
 
 20 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 from his flying feet. They were too far on their 
 way homeward to hear more. 
 
 "I never intend," said the Doctor, one day, 
 "that any family living on my land shall go to the 
 poorhouse. That fellow Bangs has been seen on 
 his way to the West. He will never return. 
 He will be small loss, but those nine children 
 of his ! They must not suffer next winter." 
 
 " I have been thinking it over for some time," 
 said the Colonel, " and I have a plan. You know 
 Stevens, my overseer on the upper plantation ? 
 He is a steady-going, middle-aged fellow. There 
 is an excellent house near the mill. Why not 
 send Mrs. Bangs to keep house for the overseer ?. 
 Her boys could find work at the mill. Who 
 knows ? Mary Jane might capture Stevens." 
 
 "Now just there you may pause," said Mrs. 
 Berkeley. "Mary Jane is 'keeping company* 
 with Dick Evans. Mary Jane stands before the 
 counter at the country store and looks over the 
 calicoes ; Dick stands behind the counter and 
 looks at Mary Jane." 
 
 "Take care !" said the Doctor. "Dick is no 
 good, I'm afraid." 
 
 A few weeks later Mrs. Berkeley triumphantly 
 announced: "It is all settled! i have given 
 Mary Jane Bangs a wedding-dress, blue merino,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 21 
 
 and Aunt Prissy has sent pins and needles and 
 stockings and things. There are two good rooms 
 over the store, and Mr. Perkins will rent them 
 cheaply. I was about to ask you, Charles, to 
 lend them the light wagon some day next week 
 to take the party to the Rectory." 
 
 "Why didn't you tell us ?" everybody ex 
 claimed at once. 
 
 "Because you would have meddled and broken 
 it off," laughed Mrs. Berkeley. "I could take 
 no risks. Away from her mother I hope to do 
 something with Mary Jane. She is a good girl, 
 and, really, not ill-looking. Mrs. Bangs tells me 
 Dick is very much in love. All looks promising 
 for the young couple." 
 
 On the day before the expected wedding, Mrs. 
 Bangs presented herself in her limp sunbonnet 
 and her usual dejected manner. 
 
 "Is anybody sick?" asked Mrs. Berkeley, 
 kindly. 
 
 "No'm the chillern are toler'ble peart, 
 thank Gawd ! Ma'y Jane ain't, so to speak, 
 reconciled to stay in' home. Yes'm he's lef 
 her ! Writ a letter tellin' her 'twon't be wuth 
 while to look fer him. Things cert'nly does 
 run in families ! What's bred in the bone is boun' 
 to come out in the flesh."
 
 22 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Nonsense," said Miss Prissy, impatiently. 
 "That doesn't apply at all. What has Mary 
 done? Why should he leave her ?" 
 
 "He jus' natcherlly took after her Pa jus' 
 walked out o' the back do', 'thout sayin' nuthin' 
 to nobody." 
 
 "But Mr. Perkins? Mr. Perkins had advanced 
 a month's salary." 
 
 "I jus' come from thar," said Mrs. Bangs. 
 " Mr. Perkins ain't no ways consarned. He 
 jus' said 'twan't none o' his business." 
 
 "He is in with him !" said Miss Prissy, indig 
 nantly. "It shouldn't be allowed. Dick Evans 
 must be found and made to behave." 
 
 "I don't know as I keers to ketch 'im," sighed 
 the poor woman. "When you capter them men 
 erginst ther will, 'thout you got time to watch 
 'em mighty close, they gits away ergin. Ma'y 
 Jane is tumble cut up an' hurted in her feelin's." 
 
 The Colonel's plan was presented and found 
 immediate favour. The mill sounded most at 
 tractive. Then, too, the railroad had just passed 
 through the country. "Could they ride on the 
 cars ?" The Colonel promised to give them 
 this pleasure. Their humble home was five miles 
 from the depot and their destination ten miles 
 farther, near the railroad and in another parish.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 23 
 
 He busied himself, helping the forlorn family. 
 The cars passed very early in the morning ; that 
 was unfortunate, but the Doctor sent them with 
 his trusty coachman in a comfortable conveyance 
 with instructions to see them on their train. 
 Their household goods preceded them in a farm 
 wagon. 
 
 The Colonel hoped much from the move, and 
 was very happy over the poor woman's prospects. 
 She was not to be limited in pigs and poultry. 
 She was to have a cow and garden space. 
 
 When the family assembled on the veranda 
 next morning, the venerable coachman, Uncle 
 Peter, approached, and baring his grey head 
 proceeded to make his report. All had gone 
 well. He had gotten them in time to the depot, 
 but was obliged to consign them to the care of 
 Mr. Bates, whom he found arriving, and wait 
 with his horses a little way off, for the mare was 
 "skittish." He had not turned homeward, 
 however, until the whistle announced that they 
 were fairly off. 
 
 "That's well over," said the Doctor, "and I 
 am heartily glad of it. Now if we can solve all 
 our 'poor white' problems as happily, we shall do 
 well." 
 
 "I am sure Dick will return," said his wife.
 
 24 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Mary Jane in a vine-clad cottage overflowing 
 with corn-pone and fried chicken will be a very 
 different girl from Mary Jane in a hovel." 
 
 " Good Gawd ! " exclaimed Milly, from an upper 
 window, "what's this a' comin' ?" 
 
 Mrs. Bangs and her nine children were emerg 
 ing from the avenue of poplars and walking 
 around on the gravelled path. "Well, here I be !" 
 she said cheerfully as she sank upon the doorstep, 
 - the nine children dropping down around her ; 
 "I hope I ain't wo' out my welcome !" 
 
 "How in the world did you get left?" ex 
 claimed everybody at once. 
 
 "Well it was jus* this-er-way," said the poor 
 woman, fanning herself with her "slat" bon 
 net. "Some of the neighbours was gittin' off the 
 cyars, comin' home, an' I had to shake han's an' 
 tell 'em all how d'ye and then good-bye. Course I 
 had to run across an' tell Miss Betty Oliver good 
 bye, an' after all she was asleep. Them steam 
 injines is cert'nly oupatient. Fus' thing I know, 
 they was movin' off. I started to jump on, but 
 Mr. Bates hilt on to me an' Ma'y Jane an' said, 
 did we want to be kilt ? 'Thee never did have 
 any sense ;' that's what Mr. Bates say to me ! 
 Tom, he run after the cyars a good bit, hollerin' 
 to 'em to stop. They wornt noways particular
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 25 
 
 'bout manners. I never see sich ! Jus' went on 
 tootin' like everybody was on bode. I reckon 
 the Doctor will let us stay here to-day, an' we can 
 try ergin to-morrow mornin'. I can card an' 
 spin a couple o' broaches, an' the chillern can 
 pick up chips for Hannah. I reckon they'll 
 mostly sleep all day, bein' they was restless all 
 night fo' we started." 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Bangs !" said the 
 Colonel, kindly, "bring your children to the 
 office. You shall all have a pleasant day, have 
 a good rest, and get off at daybreak to-morrow." 
 
 "Maybe you mout come with us, Cunnel," 
 said the poor woman. "Them steam injines 
 cert'nly does confuse my haid." 
 
 And so he did ! He not only treated them 
 with courtesy and kindness all day as his guests, 
 wincing only when they amiably used his 
 brushes, but he went with them all the way to 
 their new home, and never left them until they 
 were unpacked, the kitchen fire kindled, and gro 
 ceries brought from the neighbouring country 
 store. 
 
 "Mrs. Bangs cooked us a capital dinner," he 
 reported the next afternoon. " Stevens was im 
 pressed. When I left, Mary Jane was sitting on 
 the little porch, in a blue merino, with a ribbon in
 
 26 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 her hair. She had made a wonderful silver fringe 
 with Miss Prissy's pins stuck in the edges of her 
 ribbons. Stevens evidently admired her. I 
 think Dick will get the cold shoulder if he ever 
 turns up at the mill." 
 
 "Which he never will !" said the Doctor. 
 "Dick confided to Perkins that he was lost! 
 There was nothing left for him to do but ' cut and 
 run.' It seems he had never really meant it 
 never even thought of Mary Jane ! It appears 
 Mrs. Bangs is imaginative. We must be kind to 
 poor Mary. She has her limitations. She is 
 not a success as a match-maker. However, she 
 can try again. Stevens will be better material."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 BERKELEY CASTLE, now the residence of Dr. 
 Charles Berkeley, had been built by an immigrant 
 from the English family of Berkeley, who gave 
 his Western home the name of the famous old 
 Norman fortress and baronial hall on the banks 
 of the Severn, known to be haunted by the ghost 
 of a murdered king. "Castle" was not consid 
 ered an eccentric or over ambitious name for the 
 home of a Virginia planter was not "every 
 man's house his castle ?" nor must the house 
 thus honoured be of necessity a pretentious one. 
 A plain one-and-a-half-story, dormer-windowed, 
 frame dwelling in a neighbouring county was 
 known as "The Castle." Then there was 
 "Bacon's Castle," and "Castle Hill" -- neither 
 conspicuous for architectural claims to distinc 
 tion. Dr. Berkeley's home was a large substan 
 tial building of brick, with a pillared portico, to 
 which, on either side, rooms had been added as 
 the Berkeleys had needed additional lodging for 
 friends and relatives. 
 
 A fine avenue of poplars led from the main 
 
 27
 
 28 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 road to Berkeley Castle; -- Lombardy poplars, 
 "the tree, let them say what they will, most 
 fitting to surround a gentleman's mansion." 
 Chiselled on the gate-post at the entrance to the 
 grounds were the arms of the good Lord Thomas 
 Berkeley, who is "commended in our histories for 
 his civil usage of King Edward the Second when 
 prisoner in Berkeley Castle." Time had not yet 
 obliterated the pious motto, "Dieu avec nous," 
 nor the "ten crosses pattee" commemorative 
 of the services of the family in the Holy War. 
 Ten times had the Knights of Berkeley, with that 
 motto on their lips as their battle-cry, quitted 
 themselves like men in deadly conflict under the 
 banner of the Cross, ten times had their king 
 rewarded them by granting the Holy Emblem 
 upon their own shield. The story was told to the 
 generations as they came and passed. Shirley 
 had learned it from her father, and little Dorothea 
 had early insisted to be lifted to her throne on the 
 Colonel's shoulder that she might trace with her 
 chubby forefinger each one of the crosses, re 
 peating the formula "Mine, mine, mine," with 
 which children establish a claim to coveted ob 
 jects. The negroes on the plantation regarded 
 the sacred shield as a charm against evil. The 
 devil, they knew, went about like a roaring lion,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 29 
 
 seeking whom he might devour, his hoof-beats 
 had been heard in the main road on dark nights, 
 but no one, not even Uncle Pompey, who was 
 more than a hundred years old, and who was 
 known to be subject to "trances," had ever seen 
 him. The country people no longer noticed the 
 suggestive carvings. Once a stone-mason had 
 paused to observe the proportions of the gate 
 posts and incidentally the chiselling, and had 
 remarked that " any fellow who could do as pretty 
 a piece of work as that would want to leave his 
 mark upon it." 
 
 One morning in June Dr. Berkeley entered the 
 veranda in front of his house and began to pace 
 impatiently back and forth. His saddled horse 
 was awaiting him at the front gate beyond the 
 wide gravelled path which encircled a grass plot 
 bordered with flowers. 
 
 :c You'll have to discipline that boy of yours, 
 James," he called to the Colonel, who was walk 
 ing slowly among the flowers which bordered the 
 gravelled circle. "He gets later every day. It 
 has been fully two hours since the cars passed. 
 He can walk it in thirty minutes." 
 
 "He's probably playing marbles with the boys 
 at the depot," said Miss Prissy, an alert old lady, 
 at the door. "As James has taught him to read,
 
 30 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 he may be under the trees reading the Richmond 
 Whig." 
 
 "Very likely, Aunt Prissy ! as far as the 
 marbles are concerned, but I doubt whether Pi- 
 zarro cares for our squabbles over the Wilmot 
 proviso, or for the Mexican War, or the gold- 
 fever. Bring out the spy-glass, Shirley !" 
 
 "Nowhere in sight!" the Doctor announced 
 after sweeping the road in the distance. 
 
 "Why, here he comes at the back way !" ex 
 claimed Miss Prissy. "Will you look at that 
 boy ? He's got Flora with him ! They've been 
 running after hares, I'll be bound." 
 
 "They missed the hare!" said the Doctor. 
 "Look at Flora ! Defeat written all over her, 
 from the tip of her tongue to her tail ! Come 
 here, you rascal ! What do you mean by this 
 behaviour, hunting hares instead of coming 
 straight home with the mail ?" 
 
 "I never hunt no ole hyar," said the panting 
 little black boy, indignantly. 
 
 "Come, come, Pizarro," the Colonel warned 
 sternly, "no lies, my lad, no lies." 
 
 "I am' tellin' no lie; Gawd know I ain' see 
 no ole hyar dis day." 
 
 "Where have you been, then ?" 
 
 "Don't question him, Charles ! Don't tempt
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 31 
 
 him," said the Doctor's gentle wife, who with 
 Dorothea now appeared on the scene. 
 
 The child threw herself on the floor beside the 
 panting dog and put her arms around his neck. 
 "Poor Flora ! " she said caressingly, "you don't 
 tell lies ! You couldn't do wrong 'less Pizarro 
 made you," and she rolled her eyes disdainfully 
 at the little black. 
 
 This was too much for the culprit. He blub 
 bered out, " I done tole the truth ! Gawd 
 A'mighty" 
 
 "Stop, Pizarro," his mistress commanded. 
 " Go to the kitchen and tell Hannah to send break 
 fast in right away. Wash your hands, Dorothea. 
 Look at your clean frock ! All stained." 
 
 The boy drew his knuckles across his eyes, 
 and as he departed, looked back reproachfully 
 at the party, and finished his sentence: "Gawd 
 A'mighty know, I ain' see no ole hyar to-day. 
 ^Twarrft nuthirf but a little squir'l." 
 
 But everybody was now gathered around the 
 table upon which the Doctor poured the contents 
 of the mail-bag. "Letters for you, James 
 some for me one for Dorothea - - some for 
 Shirley Where are you, Dolly ? Well, Mary, 
 you must take her letter." 
 
 "Hawkins usually puts in a note for me,"
 
 32 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 added the Doctor, as he turned the bag inside out. 
 "Ah ! here it is ! What a fist the fellow has ! 
 - ' Passengers report crops suffering for want of 
 rain all along the road. Large crowd going 
 North. Miss Patty Benson boarded the cars 
 with Jerry Wilson. None of her family with her. 
 Looks like a runaway match. No other news." 
 
 "Hawkins is always liberal with his opinions," 
 said the Colonel ; but just then Pizarro appeared, 
 endowed with a snowy apron, and gravely an 
 nounced, "Brekfus raidy, " returning immediately 
 to his post in the dining-room behind his mistress's 
 chair, where he stood like a Nubian figure at an 
 Egyptian banquet, waving a plume of peacock's 
 feathers to drive away the flies. 
 
 The Doctor asked a blessing, and the company 
 was about to be seated when a subdued scuffle was 
 heard at the door, and little Dorothea's pleading 
 voice: "Let me, Uncle Isham, oh, let me." 
 
 "You leetle more'n to drap it last time," 
 the grey-haired butler remonstrated; but the 
 child persisted. The Colonel steadied with his 
 arm the vacant chair beside him, and helped her 
 as she climbed up, and stretching her slight little 
 body half across the table, carefully placed in the 
 centre of it a print of butter crowned with a 
 cream-white rose.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 33 
 
 "Ah ! this is what we were waiting for," ex 
 claimed the Doctor, "and worth it, too." 
 
 "I churned it," Dorothea gravely announced, 
 as she sank contentedly in her chair, and pushed 
 the hair from her eyes. 
 
 "Humph" muttered the old serving-man. 
 "You put yo' han's on the'dasher jus' one minit' ! 
 Sis Mandy holler to me to make you come in the 
 house. You sholy did pleg her !" 
 
 "Never mind, Dolly dear," said the Colonel. 
 "We believe you, and so does Uncle Isham. The 
 butter is fine, and the rose is lovely, and you 
 are the sweetest little housekeeper in Virginia." 
 
 Just here Pizarro, from his vantage-ground, 
 announced that a gentleman was coming in. 
 Everybody rose to welcome Mr. Winn, the Pres 
 byterian minister, and make a place for him at 
 the table. 
 
 "I rode over from Mr. Benson's," he explained. 
 "We had a sunrise wedding there this morning, 
 and I took the liberty " 
 
 "Ah!" interrupted the host, "I am glad to 
 see you. The depot agent just volunteered the 
 suggestion that it was an elopement." 
 
 "Not a bit of it ! I went with young Wilson to 
 get his license, and all requirements of Church 
 and State are observed and satisfied. Mr. Ben-
 
 34 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 son is not one of my parishioners, but I had met 
 Wilson." 
 
 "Well, we've lost our pretty girl," said the 
 Doctor, as he uncovered the Sheffield dish and 
 dispensed the broiled chickens. "I shall miss 
 her ! I met her late yesterday afternoon near 
 Miss Betty Oliver's. A very fine figure on horse 
 back." 
 
 "I don't think I've seen her a dozen times in as 
 many years," said Miss Prissy. 
 
 "I never felt that I knew Benson although he 
 has been my neighbour many years," said the 
 Doctor. "Whenever I have seen him at the 
 post-office or court-house, I have tried to be 
 friendly with him, but meeting no response, re 
 pulse rather, I finally let him alone. I fear he is 
 very poor. One could hardly scratch much of a 
 living out of that worn-out piece of land he moved 
 on twenty years ago." 
 
 "I never saw a more unapproachable man," 
 said Mr. Winn. "As I am here only two Sab 
 baths in the month, I know very little about any 
 one outside my own small flock, of whom, by the 
 bye, your Scotch gardener is one." 
 
 "Well, then," said Mrs. Berkeley, "it ap 
 pears we have lost an opportunity. A lovely 
 girl has grown up and left us and we have
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 35 
 
 done nothing for her happiness. I am sorry. 
 I called again and again, but my visits were 
 not returned." 
 
 "I'm sure," said Aunt Prissy, "I did my best. 
 I rode over when Patty was about ten years old 
 and begged her to come to my Sunday school 
 class. She came only once. The little girls 
 were to commit a verse of one of the epistles for 
 the lesson that day, and she recited hers this way : 
 1 Let your adorning be plaiting the hair, and wear 
 ing gold and putting on apparel.' Of course the 
 children laughed and when I told her the true 
 words of the apostle and asked why she had 
 omitted the 'not,' she said she thought it must be 
 a mistake that Saint Peter would have more 
 sense ! This made matters worse, she left 
 and never returned." 
 
 The Doctor looked distressed. "This miser 
 able reserve and pride of men who are less fortu 
 nate than their neighbours is to blame for so 
 much," he said. "I often wonder what we can 
 do about it. There seems to be great injustice in 
 it especially in this case. Mr. Benson belongs 
 to a good family. Peculiar circumstances placed 
 him where he is. The girl lost an opportunity for 
 instruction and companionship because she felt 
 herself out of her element, simply because her
 
 36 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 father was poor ; as if riches made one man 
 differ from another." 
 
 "Now, Charles," his aunt said impatiently, 
 "for gracious sake, let all that alone ! It's 
 the same all over the world. You can no more 
 do anything to change it than you can cure old 
 Mrs. Ponsonby's gout. It belongs to her class. 
 It is very inconvenient, but there's no help for it, 
 and that is all there is about it." 
 
 "Well, I can at least try, Aunt Prissy." The 
 Doctor sighed as he rose from the table. "My ! 
 how deliciously those mycrophylla roses smell ! 
 Cut a basketful for me, James ! Mrs. Ponsonby 
 has no roses such as these." 
 
 "How you do spoil that old lady ! " said Aunt 
 Prissy. 
 
 " So I do," said the Doctor. " She manages me 
 to suit herself. I think it is that head-dress she 
 wears. Nobody could deny anything to a stately 
 old dame in a Letitia Romolino turban." 
 
 Dorothea had slipped from her seat and soon 
 reappeared in her little pink sunbonnet and 
 with basket and scissors. "Maybe Andy will 
 give us some rose geranium and ice-cream 
 flowers," she said. "He gave me the tea-rose for 
 the butter." 
 
 "She means heliotrope," explained her mother.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 37 
 
 "It has a strong vanilla perfume. But you 
 mustn't leave us, Mr. Winn, because the Doctor 
 is engaged ! Spend the day with us." 
 
 The clergyman elected, after a brief pastoral 
 visit to the Scotch gardener, to ride with his host ; 
 and the family separated for the various occupa 
 tions of the day, Shirley to her piano practis 
 ing, Miss Prissy to serious preparations for mak 
 ing currant jelly, and the lovely mistress of the 
 mansion to her cares for the general good. 
 The Colonel summoned Dorothea to a writing 
 lesson under the trees, moving thither a small 
 table upon which she placed her little rosewood 
 writing-desk, a recent present from him, given to 
 encourage her in writing, in which she was deemed 
 deficient. This was composition day, and the 
 little maiden felt its importance. "Write any 
 thing you please, dear," said her friend; "write 
 a letter, if you choose." And he unfolded the 
 Richmond Whig and prepared to read confirma 
 tion of his own political views. 
 
 "I owe a letter to Tom Blackwell," she in 
 formed him ; and having carefully examined 
 her quill pen, and presented it to the Colonel 
 to be mended, she gravely addressed herself 
 to her task. After much thought and many 
 pauses she looked up for guidance. " I've got 
 
 443310
 
 38 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 as far as 'Dear Tom Blackwell Cousin James is 
 here.'" 
 
 "You open very well," the Colonel assured her, 
 and she continued her meditations repeating 
 every few minutes, " Cousin James is here 
 Cousin James is here Cousin James is here." 
 
 "And sends his goodest love to you," suggested 
 her aunt, who, sunbonneted and leather-gloved, 
 was on her way to the garden. 
 
 "Oh !" exclaimed the child, "Tom would be 
 shocked." 
 
 "Well, then," said the Colonel, looking over 
 the top of his paper, "write your letter just as 
 you yourself think proper." 
 
 After much thought and laborious effort, 
 Dorothea offered the following for his inspection, 
 written in characters in various stages of ine 
 briation and abundantly sprinkled with the 
 fine sand from her tiny "sand-box." 
 
 DEER TOM BLAK Q u E DUBLE L 
 
 Cusin James is heer Flora has got 3 pupis. Unc'l 
 Isum's Susan has got 2 Twins. 
 
 Yore fren, 
 
 Dorothea. 
 
 "Are you quite clear about the way to spell 
 Blackwell ?" asked the Colonel.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 39 
 
 "Yes, indeed; Shirley told me at breakfast 
 how to spell 'quell.' I knew how to spell 
 'black.'" 
 
 "That's sufficient ! There's no appeal from 
 Shirley, now she is a young lady." 
 
 The letter was carefully folded, sealed with 
 a motto wafer with a romantic sentiment, and 
 addressed to Mr. Tom Blackwell, a neighbour's 
 son, who had amused himself by writing to the 
 little girl. Dorothea drew out her coloured beads 
 and proceeded with her daily work on a neck 
 lace for her doll Victoria. The Colonel read 
 silently, and finally said, by way of conversa 
 tional interlude and apropos of an item in the 
 paper : " How would you like to be the Duchess 
 of Westminster ? " 
 
 "It depends on who is the Duke," the child 
 answered. She was not surprised at the laugh 
 that followed. She was accustomed to having 
 people laugh at her remarks. 
 
 After a while her companion perceived she had 
 dropped her beads and was in a brown study. 
 Catching his eye, she inquired, "What does a 
 Duchess do ?" 
 
 "Pretty much what other ladies do, I imagine 
 embroider, play on the harp or guitar or 
 piano, and see company. If you ask me what
 
 40 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 a Duchess has, I can tell you. She has beautiful 
 manners, and lives in a castle with charming 
 grounds and gardens ; and she has many ser 
 vants and horses and coaches ; and wears vel 
 vet gowns, and a beautiful crown of strawberry 
 leaves made out of diamonds." 
 
 Dorothea was silent, and the Colonel turned 
 over his paper and became absorbed in a glowing 
 account of the newly found treasure among 
 the foot-hills of the Sierras. Presently he felt 
 the child's touch on his knee. 
 
 "Is there obliged to be a Duke?" she asked 
 earnestly. 
 
 " I'm afraid so. There must have been a 
 Duke somewhere, I suppose ; but there are 
 Duchesses without any Duke at all." 
 
 "Well, then ! Why can't I be a Duchess ? I 
 live in a castle ! I could buy 'most all the things, 
 and could make some. Of course, I couldn't buy 
 a Duke do you think ?" she asked wistfully. 
 
 "I'm afraid not," said the Colonel; "I will 
 inquire but all the other things might be 
 bought. You see you have usually beau 
 tiful manners, and it is easy to make believe the 
 Duke. Don't you make believe your doll is a 
 Queen ? I can say 'Your Grace' when I speak 
 to you and bow low -
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 41 
 
 "I can curchy," said Dorothea, eagerly, giving 
 him an illustration of the fact. "Mammy is 
 very petickler about my curchy. She makes 
 me do it in the nursery before I come in the 
 parlour to the comp'ny." 
 
 "That is fine ! I never saw a better curtsey. 
 But there are other things. A Duchess has to 
 be very kind and gracious, and not contradict 
 nor interrupt when others are talking." 
 
 "Pshaw," said Dorothea, "that's easy! 
 Mama has told me all that ; " but the Colonel 
 proceeded to make her understand that a 
 Duchess has certain obligations simply from 
 the fact that she is a Duchess that her motto 
 is "Noblesse oblige" and that means that she 
 is called upon to deny herself things allowed 
 humbler people and be at all times high and 
 noble. 
 
 Miss Prissy Berkeley now appeared, coming 
 through the garden gate with her arm full of 
 long-stemmed flowers. "Look what I got from 
 Andy!" she exclaimed. "It was like pulling 
 his eye-teeth. You may put me in my cart, 
 James, if you like. I left Milly and her tribe 
 gathering currants. No, indeed, Dorothea ! 
 They'll do it quicker without your help. I'll 
 drive over and give these to Betty Oliver ! I
 
 42 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 like Betty ! She and I are the only old maids 
 in the county. No, no, Dolly, not this time ; 
 the sun's too hot. Well, then, run in and ask 
 your mother." 
 
 "I observe I'm not invited to drive you," 
 said the Colonel. 
 
 "No men around when Betty and I forgather," 
 laughed the old lady. 
 
 "You don't mean to say you traduce us to 
 each other." 
 
 "I can't justly answer for Betty's opinions 
 of men, but you know I adore them. Not that 
 I ever professed to understand a man ! He 
 remains a beauty and a mystery to me. - - Well, 
 jump in, Dolly ! I knew how that would end ! 
 and, oh, James," as she took the reins and 
 trotted off, "tell Isham to tell Milly not to do 
 the currants until I come back. Get up, 
 Brandy!"
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE Colonel stood for a moment watching 
 the cart until it was lost under the poplars, and 
 then, with his hands clasped behind him, slowly 
 retraced his steps to the gravelled circle in front 
 of the house. Presently he paused, threw up 
 his fine face, and listened. Shirley was singing. 
 There was nothing impressive in her song, 
 nothing to warrant the Colonel in reverently 
 bending his bared head. Shirley was only prac 
 tising her solfeggios, running up her scales again 
 and again from the middle C, a tone or half tone 
 higher each time, until the C in alt rang out, 
 clear and pure. A moment later, she appeared 
 on the veranda, discerned her listener, and 
 nodded to him, disappeared, and returning with 
 her work-basket and two cushions, joined him 
 under the trees. 
 
 "Did you hear me sailing in the high seas ?" 
 she asked, as she seated herself and tendered a 
 cushion to the Colonel. 
 
 "Indeed I did ! But you did not sail far." 
 
 43
 
 44 THE .COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Signer Laperti had small opinion of my 
 voice or rather he thought I had a small 
 voice. But he liked the little I have. 'It is 
 ver thin, Mees just a bit of gold thread. Do 
 not strain it ! It will break' - - and so, when I 
 found that high C in it, I shut it up at once and 
 put it away to rest." 
 
 Shirley had opened her basket while she talked, 
 and extracted from its depths a bit of muslin 
 and her embroidery apparatus. The Colonel, 
 declining the proffered cushion for himself, 
 arranged it against the tree at her back, and, 
 clasping his hands around his knees, seated him 
 self at her feet, Shirley drawing aside the ruffles 
 of her white muslin gown it was a "spacious 
 time" in women's dress to make room for him. 
 
 "This looks like old times," he said, "and I 
 hope it means morning readings." He drew a 
 green paper-covered brochure from his pocket. 
 "The last instalment of ' Dombey and Son ' ! But 
 'twould never do to read about Paul and Florence 
 without Dorothea. How about Tennyson ?" 
 
 "Oh, we had him, plenty, at school. The 
 girls cried quarts over him." 
 
 "And you ?" 
 
 "I couldn't care for him ! I suppose you 
 know who is responsible for my taste."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 45 
 
 The Colonel laughed and suggested another 
 recent poet who had just written the immortal 
 "Prelude." 
 
 "Don't let's read at all," said Shirley. "Let's 
 talk. I haven't had a good, long talk with you 
 since I came home. Don't try to improve my 
 mind, please. It's improved until I don't know 
 it. I doubt whether I have any left." 
 
 " I suppose things seem strange after the New 
 York life." 
 
 "They do a little but, dear! The only 
 trouble is I don't seem to have anything to do, 
 no duties, no fixed hours. Mama told me to 
 embroider a cape for myself, but I couldn't stand 
 that. Capes don't interest me in the least, so 
 I am making a bretelle apron for Dorothea." 
 
 "Did you learn that at school ?" asked the 
 Colonel. "Tell me something you did learn 
 that most interested you." 
 
 "I learned to be calm wasn't that some 
 thing for a Berkeley to learn ? We were drilled 
 into a manner all repose. We were not to be 
 emotional if we could help it ; if we couldn't, 
 we must be silent. We were not to exclaim 
 or be superlative, never say we were * crazy' for 
 anything, or 'dying' for our dinner even, as 
 we always were. We were not to express sur-
 
 46 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 prise ; that was very ungenteel bourgeois. 
 If a cannon should happen to explode near us, 
 we were to smile with gentle acquiescence, and 
 remark, 'Yes!'" 
 
 The Colonel threw back his head, and broke 
 through all Madame's rules with a hearty peal 
 of laughter. Shirley's mimicry was delightful ! 
 
 "Did you see what N. P. Willis had about us 
 in the Mirror? " 
 
 "Not really? How did Madame Cheguery 
 stand that ?" 
 
 " Madame was annoyed but calm. She 
 expressed no emotion. It wasn't so dreadful ! 
 He only drew a rhyming pen-picture of 'A Per 
 fect Lady of the Present Time' under some 
 stupendous disaster, earthquake or tempest or 
 shipwreck I forget which : 
 
 ' She was calm as the sea when we sail in June 
 
 As calm as the stars above her ! 
 Calm as a Madame Chegue'ry girl 
 Only star-eyed science her lover ! ' ' 
 
 The Colonel thought this a most excellent 
 training, as exemplified by Shirley, and she 
 continued : 
 
 "We were to be extremely modest and yet not 
 shy shyness was not at all comme il faut. We
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 47 
 
 were never to 'show off' our learning or accom 
 plishments." 
 
 "Rely altogether upon beauty?" interrupted 
 the Colonel. 
 
 "Oh, dear me, no ! Least of all upon beauty. 
 I had been pretty well drilled by Mammy ! 
 ' Come away f um de glass, honey ! You'll spile 
 yo' complexion ; ' and ' Pretty ain' nothin' 
 'haviour is all ! Pretty is as pretty does !' and 
 then Mama, - - ' Don't long for beauty, my dear ! 
 It is the least of all good things.' I think she 
 and Mammy and Madame were quite right ! 
 'Lovely' means so much more than 'pretty." 
 
 Shirley paused, and spreading her muslin on 
 her knee, regarded it critically, turning her head 
 with a bird-like motion, to examine the effect of 
 her stitchery. Her listener looked at her in 
 silence. Never had the value of beauty been 
 decried by more beautiful lips. Never had calm 
 repose been expressed by serener eyes. Her 
 face, he thought, seemed actually to bloom with 
 thought and feeling. The poor Colonel found 
 himself at a disadvantage. He could find noth 
 ing to say. He would have been glad to sit at 
 her feet forever, simply hear her voice, look up 
 into the depths of her soft eyes. 
 
 They were certainly troubled eyes at the pres-
 
 48 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 ent moment. After turning her work around 
 several times, she said anxiously : " I don't know 
 what is the matter with this morning-glory. It 
 doesn't look a bit natural." 
 
 "Is that your idea of a morning-glory ?" 
 
 "Doesn't it look like one to you ? An open 
 morning-glory and a bud ! There's to be a 
 spray on each bretelle." 
 
 "I have been very much interested in it. At 
 first I thought from its shape it might be a pear, 
 and then after you made those two little knots 
 it looked more like a toad. I am quite sure 
 about that twisted thing ! That is a very good 
 worm, indeed." 
 
 "Horrors ! Why, that's a closed morning- 
 glory bud ! Dear me !" said Shirley, in distress. 
 
 But the Colonel was not attending. "The 
 glory of the morning," he thought. "She per 
 sonifies it." 
 
 However, Pizarro appeared and closed the 
 interview by announcing, "Miss Shirley, yo* 
 Mammy say you mus' come right in out de sun," 
 and Shirley, followed by the Colonel, immedi 
 ately obeyed. 
 
 Miss Betty Oliver, the neighbourhood dress 
 maker, fruit-preserver, cake-baker, and gener-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 49 
 
 ally useful helper, lived in a small brick house 
 a little off from the road. Extending outward 
 on each side of the house was a thick privet 
 hedge. Her little porch was covered with morn 
 ing-glories, and her yard was enclosed with box. 
 With infinite toil and patience she had planted 
 the privet hedge years before, extending it to 
 the limits of her small domain that she might 
 conceal her kitchen and outhouses from trav 
 ellers on the public road. The railroad, however, 
 had defeated her plans and outraged her feelings. 
 It ran in a curve immediately behind her prem 
 ises, and Miss Betty had the anguish of knowing 
 that hundreds of eyes from the car windows 
 daily inspected her pig-pen, her garden, her 
 clothes-lines, and all of her outhouses. They 
 passed slowly going out, and slowed up on the 
 return giving ample opportunity for the grati 
 fication of idle curiosity. Houses soon gathered 
 around the depot, and the place began to assume 
 the dignity of a village. Hawkins, the depot 
 agent, had brought his family ; so had Perkins, 
 the storekeeper. The odour of fertilizers filled 
 the summer air, conquering the perfume of her 
 mock orange and pinks ! All this she told for 
 the hundredth nay, the thousandth time to 
 her kind listener.
 
 50 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "I haven't a decent petticoat in the world," she 
 declared. "They are all over mildew that'll never 
 come out. I have to whip my things off the lines 
 in a hurry when I hear them cars comin', and by 
 the time I get them back again, here comes a 
 train from the other direction. Of course the 
 clothes lie damp and mildew. As to my night 
 gowns and shimmys, I never hang them out un 
 til night, and then the switchmen walk up and 
 down with lanterns an' often as not there's moon 
 light. I did ask Hawkins if the curtains couldn't 
 be kept down my side when the trains passed my 
 garden and he said, * Certainly and we 
 might print a notice on large cards with "Look 
 the other way" in big letters, and hang it up every 
 time the trains go out and come in.' Then I saw 
 he was making fun of me, and I felt too insulted 
 to say another word to him. I was willin' to 
 pay for the trouble about the curtains and pay 
 lib'ral, but Hawkins couldn't see his way to 
 speak to the conductors about it. No, Miss 
 Prissy ! I've lived a decent woman with good 
 clothes all my life, and a decent woman I aim 
 to die but the good Lord knows if He called 
 me to go this minute, you wouldn't find a white 
 nightgown to put on me while my shroud was 
 a-making."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 51 
 
 "Ah well, our Lord would never look at the 
 gown," said Miss Prissy. "Try not to think 
 too much about it. Have you been to the store 
 for your paper this morning ?" 
 
 " No, indeed ; I never go there ! I send for my 
 paper, since Hawkins was so impudent. I don't 
 mean to know them Perkinses and Hawkinses ! 
 I'll pass the time of day if I meet 'em in the road, 
 that's my Christian duty, and that I'll do. 
 And I won't sew for 'em neither ! I say and 
 you know it's the truth, Miss Prissy that Mrs. 
 Berkeley gives me about all I can do." 
 
 "Well, then," said Miss Prissy, anxious for a 
 diversion from the worn topic, "maybe you 
 haven't heard that Patty Benson was married 
 to Jerry Wilson this morning ! " 
 
 " My gracious goodness NO ! Well well 
 well! Of all the close-mouthed ! Why, that girl 
 was here yesterday evening late, for me to fix her 
 brown alpaca ! It sagged to one side. She never 
 said a word about anything but her frock. I 
 remember now I offered to take off the facing and 
 skirt-braid and do it right, but she said no she 
 was in a hurry just to raise it from the belt. 
 I made that one frock as a special favour. I 
 never sew for that family. Indeed, I'm never 
 asked to."
 
 5 2 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Well," said Miss Prissy, pressing her ad 
 vantage, and steering quite away from the scan 
 dalous behaviour of the railway cars, "we all 
 feel badly at the Castle because we have not 
 been more neighbourly with them. Charles is 
 so kind-hearted ! And he thinks they are 
 poor." 
 
 "Well, you know," said Miss Betty, lowering 
 her voice with an air of mystery, "there are them 
 that says they'd be as rich as anybody in the 
 county if they had their rights. Of course I 
 never talk after Mrs. Dancey, but she is one of 
 the few women who visits Mrs. Benson and she 
 says " 
 
 " Sh sh ! for goodness' sake !" Miss Prissy 
 begged, "don't listen to Mrs. Dancey! Don't 
 encourage her to bring up that old story and 
 have the neighbourhood stirred up again over 
 it. It was settled years ago. When we don't 
 understand the rulings in such cases, we may be 
 sure we don't know all the circumstances. Very 
 few people remember, or if they do, they are 
 silent. Charles has always felt the greatest sym 
 pathy for Mr. Benson." 
 
 "Well, don't you suppose the boys know ?" 
 
 "Certainly not," said Miss Prissy, decidedly, 
 " who would tell them ? They weren't born
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 53 
 
 when it happened. If they knew, they would 
 help." 
 
 "They'd better not offer it ! He isn't poor. 
 He's just terribly proud and surly. He's been 
 a good manager. My ! I can't get over that 
 Patty comin' here every day or two and me 
 lending her all my patterns. Staid to supper, 
 too, last night, and as hearty as a hunter. Well, 
 well ! Strange things are happening these days. 
 Some folks think it's the comet. I wonder if it 
 is ! If my poor father could know I was livin* 
 here with a railroad runnin' in my back yard, 
 and them Perkinses and Hawkinses not a stone's 
 throw away from me and young girls marryin' on 
 the sudden like that he would turn over in his 
 grave." 
 
 "Let us be thankful he doesn't know it," said 
 Miss Prissy, gently ; and Patty Benson, having 
 served her purpose, was dismissed for friendly 
 talk about the latest fashions in sleeves as ex 
 hibited in Godey's Magazine, and the best 
 method of sealing currant jelly so it would not 
 granulate nor ferment. Little Dorothea was re 
 called from the garden whither she had been sent 
 to gather Calicanthus "for I bet," said Miss 
 Betty, "that Scotchman of the Doctor's has dug 
 it all up in your garden ;" and after promises
 
 54 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 exacted that she would soon come to help Miss 
 Shirley get ready for the Springs, and after much 
 appreciation on Dorothea's part of hot buttered 
 paste-cakes and preserved raspberries, Brandy 
 was relieved of an hour's struggle with the flies, 
 and sent trotting homeward, signalling as he 
 neared his stable to his comrade in harness, 
 Soda, and receiving unmistakable assurances of 
 welcome in return.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 WHEN Miss Prissy and Dorothea reached home 
 after their visit to Miss Betty Oliver, they were 
 met at the gate by the Colonel, who had been 
 waiting for them half an hour with the tidings 
 that company had arrived to "spend some time" 
 which might mean a week or more, as further 
 determined. 
 
 "We have eight in all, Mrs. Carrington and 
 Miss Elvira, Rosalie Henry, Anne Page, Mildred 
 Taylor, Tom Blackwell, Douglas Newton, and a 
 fine-looking fellow, a guest at the Newtons', 
 whose name I don't at the moment recall." 
 
 "Where is Mary going to put them ? You 
 know others are expected any day." 
 
 "I take two of the youngsters to my quarters." 
 
 "Then where am I to go ?" wailed Dorothea. 
 "Where will I say my lessons when it rains, and 
 keep my cat, and roast my June apples ?" 
 
 "Ah, Your Grace ! Where, indeed ! But 
 no harm shall come to Gabriella those in 
 truders shall treat her with proper respect 
 and June apples are not good roasted." 
 
 ss
 
 56 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Never mind, Dolly dear," said Miss Prissy. 
 "Company or no company, my currants- are 
 gathered and must be attended to. I'll need 
 all the help you can give me. Run along and 
 tell Milly I will make the jelly under the big 
 tree behind the kitchen. Hurry, Pizarro, and 
 put the charcoal furnace out there and a table 
 and chair two chairs. Don't wait to drive 
 Brandy to the stable ; the Colonel will attend 
 to him." 
 
 The Doctor arrived just at the moment, and 
 considered the situation. 
 
 "Mary thinks we are weak in beaux," he said. 
 "Newton is said to be in love with Anne Page, 
 Blackwell is certainly engaged to Rosalie 
 they'll be no good to any one else, and there's 
 Elvira Carrington and Mildred Taylor, to say 
 nothing of Shirley. It is well we have you, 
 James, but you are not a dancing man." 
 
 "Cousin James belongs to me," exclaimed 
 Dorothea. 
 
 "True 'belongs* is the word! But Your 
 Grace might lend me. Duchesses sometimes 
 lend their vassals to a weaker party." 
 
 The child considered : "Only to Aunt Prissy, 
 then!" 
 
 "I accept him with pleasure," said the old
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 57 
 
 lady. "He will interest me very much. I was 
 his mother's bridesmaid." 
 
 " I wish you would jump in the buggy, James," 
 said the Doctor, "and ride over to Ridgely and 
 bring the Edmunds boys for a day or two. 
 They've slept on pallets on the parlour floor 
 many a time before. So, for that matter, have 
 Tom and Douglas. There's plenty of room, even 
 if the Taylors and Flemings come, as we expect." 
 
 In a few hours the house was full of gay young 
 guests, and humming like a hive of bees. Things 
 quieted down in the afternoon, the young 
 people having gone forth on horseback to make 
 a visit to a neighbour. The activities of the 
 household were confined to the rear, and all was 
 quiet in front. At sunset the gardener appeared 
 at the gate, wheeling a barrow, with sprinkling- 
 pot, light hoe, shears, and trowel his own coat 
 neatly folded on the top. He was a quaint 
 figure, slow and deliberate in his movements, 
 but his rolled-up shirt-sleeves revealed a muscular 
 arm, and his face expressed keen shrewdness. 
 Like many persons who live much alone, he talked 
 to himself as he worked and for the excellent 
 reason, which is often given, that he liked to 
 hear a sensible man talk. 
 
 "A hot night," he was saying as he deposited
 
 58 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 his coat in the cleft of a tree. "But I'll tak nae 
 chances in this changefu' climate." He then pro 
 ceeded to examine the choice flowers that filled 
 the circle enclosing the grass-plot rid them of 
 insects and carefully water them. 
 
 "Eh! what's this?" he exclaimed with dis 
 gust, "the vara best out-shoot of the Luxemburg 
 Rose broken ! The hoof of a Bull o' Bashan ! 
 I'se warrand it's the stranger or his servitor. 
 The familiars o' the family frae year's end to 
 year's end hae mair sense." 
 
 That the stranger's negro "servitor" felt an 
 interest in flowers was soon evident. He was at 
 that moment on his way from the house to the 
 lawn, walking with a jaunty air of ease and 
 flourish, bringing into play all the muscles of his 
 body. The gardener quickly recognized him, 
 and concentrated his attention upon a shrub at 
 his feet.- 
 
 "Good evening, Andy," said the new-comer, 
 with the assured manner of the valet of a man 
 of fashion. As he received no sign of recognition 
 he repeated in a louder tone, "Good evening, 
 Andy. Good evening !" 
 
 "Oh, guid e'en, guid e'en t'ye whamever 
 ye be," replied the gardener, without looking 
 up.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 59 
 
 "I prognosticated you would not know me! 
 I am valet to Mr. Frederick Blake and " 
 
 The gardener raised his head as if to see who 
 spoke to him, touched his Scotch cap with a 
 mock show of respect, and bowed low. 
 
 "An 5 are ye a' that ? I dinna ken rightly the 
 meaning o' * valet.' It's maybe a running foot 
 man, or summat atween a boot-black and a gentle 
 man's gentleman ? What might be your name 
 noo?" 
 
 "My name ? To you my name is Mr. Napo 
 leon Johnson, called 'Nap' by my master, for 
 short." 
 
 "An' to ye, my name is Mr. Angus Macgilli- 
 cuddy, called 'Andy' by my young leddy and 
 ithers to wham I give the preevilege. Body an' 
 saul, mon, what are ye doing ?" for Mr. Napoleon 
 Johnson in his confusion had picked up the sprin 
 kling-pot and was using it on the border-flowers. 
 
 "Now ye have wat the Dianthus while it was 
 all het up with the sunshine ! It'll be as black 
 as yer ain God forgie me ! Awa' wi' ye to 
 yer valeting ! The suner the mair fitting ! I'll 
 not compleen to lose ye !" 
 
 Thoroughly discomfited, the intruder put down 
 the watering-pot, giggling, and relapsed into the 
 vernacular. "He, he ! What does de pinks do
 
 60 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 when it rains ? Does dey hist umbrellas, an' does 
 you stan' by an' hole 'em over 'em ?" 
 
 With this parting shot he turned, and ambled, 
 crestfallen, to the house. 
 
 The gardener put his hands on his hips and 
 grinned as he looked after him. "He maybe is 
 no a bad lad after a' said," he reflected. " Forbye 
 his black skin, he may be guid aneugh for his 
 station. An' if his master can thole his ways an' 
 manners, Angus has na call to compleen. Am 
 tauld they're no Papishers thae blacks. The 
 creature Isum an' his women are Baptists. 
 There's ne'er a Roman amang them. Sae I'll 
 e'en put up wi' him as I put up wi' sae muckle 
 from the family -- breaking great boughs an' 
 branches o' roses when a short stem wad be 
 mair mensefu', and never leaving a bloom on the 
 bush half a day in garden or greenhouse. As to 
 the fruit, weel ! weel ! They are a fasheous 
 bargain, these Southron leddies, calling for 
 peers, plums, an' apples summer an' winter. It's 
 weel ken'd that Adam's rib loves apples Gude 
 help 'em!" 
 
 But the twilight, delicious but damp, was at 
 hand, and he hastened with his work. Presently 
 the riding party appeared in the avenue, Shirley 
 and the new guest at their head. Slipping lightly
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 61 
 
 from her horse, she called out cheerfully: "Ah, 
 Andy ! See ! I did not forget you ! I've 
 brought you the ' emblem dear' " 
 
 "'Symbol,' my young leddy, 'I turned the 
 weeding clip aside, and spared the symbol dear.' ' 
 
 "Et tu, Brute," laughed the girl, as she gave 
 him a fine thistle bloom, which he promptly 
 fastened in his Scotch cap, "With Papa in the 
 house and Andy in the garden, I shall probably 
 learn to talk after a while." 
 
 "May you have a better teacher than either," 
 replied her escort, lowering his voice with a 
 meaning look that called for a blush as he ex 
 pected, and meeting only an expression of abso 
 lute unconsciousness. Madame Cheguery's pu 
 pil did her credit. 
 
 The gardener looked after them and shook 
 his head. "Anither clan a'thegither," he mur 
 mured, and began to collect his dibbles, hoes, 
 and watering-pot. But the new guest had 
 turned at the door and was forging down the 
 walk at a rapid pace, going out for a short 
 "constitutional" before dressing for the evening. 
 Reaching a spot opposite the gardener, he 
 had followed the path on the other side of the 
 circle, he thrust a hasty hand into his breast 
 pocket and drew out his handkerchief and a
 
 62 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 small silver match-box. Pausing a moment 
 and hollowing his hands over the flame, he 
 lighted a cigar, threw away the match, and 
 strode on. He had passed through the gate 
 when a thin thread of smoke arrested Andy's 
 attention. 
 
 "Body an' saul ! the daft skellum!" he ex 
 claimed in great wrath. "Threw his de'il's fire 
 right into the heart of the rosa Devoniensis ! 
 May the foul fiend Eh ! what's this ? a bit 
 paper oot o' his pocket H'm !" and stroking 
 his chin, he looked thoughtfully at a rose-coloured 
 billet which he picked up from the border. 
 Raising it cautiously to his nose, he inhaled its 
 delicate perfume. With the subtle odour tempta 
 tion sought, found, and floored poor Andy ! 
 He wiped his hand on the sleeve of his shirt and 
 unfolded the missive. A dry smile broke over 
 his features. 
 
 "Oh, the snares and temptations o' this wicked 
 world ! The de'il's work is ower a', and - 
 but glancing down the avenue he perceived the 
 stranger returning. Reaching hastily for his 
 coat, he slipped the note into a pocket, and then 
 leisurely proceeded to pull down his shirt-sleeves 
 and don the outer garment. 
 
 "Good-evening, my good man ! May I look
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 63 
 
 into your bushes a moment ? You didn't happen 
 to see a small bit of paper, did you ?" 
 
 Andy could not tell a lie. He proceeded 
 slowly to fill his barrow with his tools, and as 
 he lifted the handles to move off, said quietly, 
 "Ye may look and welcome, sir ! I maun be 
 ganging in to pit my aims under cover, or 
 I'd be blithe to help ye. I'll stop e'en now if 
 ye hae lost siller or value." 
 
 "Not at all ! Only a small bill for news 
 papers at your little store yonder. I guess my 
 man will send another. It's of no consequence 
 whatever." 
 
 The gardener, as he passed along the path on 
 the outside of the yard-paling, could see the 
 searcher busy among the shrubs all around the 
 yard. Shaking his head from time to time, he 
 reached the little house allotted to him near the 
 garden. Once within it, his tools cleansed and 
 put away, and his frugal supper of oaten cake 
 and "kail-brose" eaten, he addressed himself 
 to his evening task of introspection and religious 
 reading, as prescribed in his early days by the 
 Scottish kirk. He recalled the incident of the 
 evening, and carefully re-read the note. "I 
 misdoubt," he said to himself, "I hae been 
 guided according to my folly. Instead of hale-
 
 64 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 some and godly meditation at the sma' hour o' 
 the sunset whilk sud remind us of our latter 
 end-- I forgather with a black, wha hasna a 
 glisk o' sense; and listen to his fule clinkum- 
 clankum. And the de'il, going aboot like a 
 roaring lion seeking wham he may devour, pits 
 a bonny bit letter anent my hand, and gars me 
 read it and keep it. I suld hae been dubious 
 o' opening it till I had gaen through the e'ening 
 worship. But it's a' dune now, and canna be 
 helpit. I doubt I maun gang oop to the hoose 
 and gie him his ain. He'll maybe hae the sense 
 to reecognize my honest service." 
 
 Just then the high notes of a fine tenor voice 
 floated through the open window. He was 
 accustomed to the evening sounds of guitar or 
 piano, and often listened to the singing, but 
 something in this strain angered him. 
 
 "He's a wild lad that, and hasna the right to 
 sing his fule sangs to my young leddy. I mis 
 trust no guid will come o' his veesit. Na, na, 
 Andy ! It's nowt thy duty to gie him his light- 
 o-luve letter ! Keep it, lad ! It may be called 
 upo' to rise in judgment ! Wha be ye to resist 
 the Almighty, and refuse to be a rod in his hand 
 to smite the evil-doer ? " 
 
 Thus having determined the line of his duty,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 65 
 
 the gardener finished the exercises of the hour, 
 by reading in a volume of dry controversial 
 divinity ; and then shutting out the convivial 
 sounds from the house, he commended himself 
 to the God of his fathers, and his tired body was 
 soon as fast asleep as his conscience.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 EARLY next morning Shirley, looking in her 
 pink muslin gown as if made out of roses, left 
 her bedroom, and passing through the central 
 hallway, entered the long veranda in the rear 
 of the house. She might well pause to admire 
 the scene before her. The garden, enclosed by 
 a hedge of box trimmed to simulate a twisted 
 rope, descended in shallow terraces to the foot 
 of the hill, and fringed with flag and iris a stream 
 which shone in the morning sun like a ribbon of 
 silver. Beyond, the ground rose again cov 
 ered at its foot with thick reeds and grasses, 
 which halfway up lost themselves in the woods. 
 Nearer, she could discern the box-bordered 
 crescents, stars, and serpentine hedges of the 
 formal English garden, the tall crepe myrtles, 
 the climbing roses on the central "summer- 
 house" of latticework, and the arch of yellow 
 jessamine that spanned the entrance. Every 
 blade of grass at her feet held a diamond. The 
 flowers bent their heads under the heavy dew 
 to lift them later in renewed beauty. Over all, 
 
 66
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 67 
 
 the splendid morning sun poured its golden rays. 
 The girl saw and appreciated it all and as she 
 stood she drew long breaths of freshness, sweet 
 ness, and perfume. 
 
 She had tied an ample muslin apron over her 
 gown, and now turning up the lace-trimmed 
 edges of her flowing sleeves, she proceeded to the 
 end of the long veranda where a basket of flowers 
 had been placed on a table, together with a row 
 of bowls and vases of china and crystal. She 
 was examining the flowers thoughtfully, when 
 a handsome, dark-eyed young man appeared at 
 the door of the hall and walked rapidly down 
 the veranda, exclaiming, with a radiant smile, 
 "Proserpine amid the flowers herself a 
 fairer ' 
 
 "Ah, Douglas ! Good morning ! Isn't it a 
 lovely day ? I think Anne will be down some 
 time in the course of human events." 
 
 "Meanwhile I might help you fill your vases ?" 
 "I don't know," said the girl, considering, 
 with averted head. "Probably you'll see a fine 
 rose at the bottom of the basket, lovely 
 enough for Anne, and you'll ruin all the others 
 as you drag it out." 
 
 "No, no, I promise, honour bright." 
 
 "Or you'll fall to dreaming about somebody
 
 68 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 who is expected every minute, and you'll put 
 purple heliotrope and crimson geraniums to 
 gether in the same vase. It is positively against 
 all rules to mix colours." 
 
 "At least perhaps I may be permitted to pour 
 out the flowers on the table so you can select 
 better," he said, as he lifted the basket, "and I 
 might even be allowed to take off all the thorns 
 and hand the roses to you to arrange." 
 
 "It hurts roses to be handled! They can't 
 bear it ! They want all the dew left on them 
 as long as possible. And besides, Anne " 
 
 "Now look here, Shirley ! Are you going to 
 keep this up ? If you are, I shall order my horse 
 directly after breakfast or before." 
 
 "A thousand pardons, Douglas ! Help me 
 arrange my flowers if you want to. I am quite 
 willing Anne should have the prettiest. Indeed, 
 I'll help you to find it. By the bye," she added, 
 "what is your taste in boutonnieres ?" 
 
 The young fellow's face brightened. "Oh, 
 thank you ! I like a geranium leaf and a red 
 red rose." 
 
 "That is very beautiful. But don't you think 
 a pink carnation would suit Mr. Blake's blue 
 eyes better." 
 
 "Undoubtedly," said her companion, coldly.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 69 
 
 "The pink carnation by all means ! But 
 why are you laying aside those curious pink 
 flowers ? Are all of them for '.Mr. Blake's blue 
 eyes ?" 
 
 "These? This is the Dicentra Spectabilis 
 bleeding-hearts. They make a lovely hanging 
 basket, with their drooping stems. There's a 
 hook in the library window expressly for a hang 
 ing basket and dear knows, these would be 
 appropriate ! There are plenty of bleeding hearts 
 represented on the book-shelves. What are you 
 doing, Douglas ? Cutting my bleeding-hearts 
 to pieces ?" 
 
 "Only shortening a stem for my own bouton- 
 niere. But I interrupt you. Your carnation is 
 a great success. Accept my congratulations !" 
 
 He fastened his "bleeding-heart" in the lapel 
 of his coat, and excusing himself with a cold 
 bow, turned and walked out of the veranda. 
 
 Shirley was pained and surprised. She looked 
 at him as he strode along, and had he looked 
 back, would have recalled him. She was vexed 
 with herself for having taken a liberty with him, 
 and trifling perhaps with feelings he held sacred. 
 Engagements were jealously concealed in Vir 
 ginia at that day, but nobody seemed to doubt 
 that he was in love with Anne Page any more
 
 70 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 than that Tom Blackwell was engaged to 
 Rosalie. "He might at least," thought Shirley, 
 "have confided in me. Why should he avoid 
 me as he has done this summer?" She shook 
 her head regretfully, and felt she had made a 
 bad beginning of the day. She continued her 
 task mechanically until her vases were all full, 
 and calling Minerva, directed where they should 
 be placed on mantels and pier-tables, sending a 
 bowl with the finest roses to the breakfast room, 
 and slipping the boutonniere of pink carnations 
 into her pocket. 
 
 In warm climates the cream of the day is the 
 early morning, and few are willing to lose it in 
 bed. All nature seems refreshed and jubilant. 
 The birds are in ecstasy robin, lark, and 
 thrush pouring out their paeans of praise and 
 gratitude, and the tuneful tiny wrens all song 
 and no body almost splitting their little 
 throats with joy. The guests at Berkeley Castle 
 responded promptly when breakfast was an 
 nounced, all except Douglas Newton, who 
 entered later and took the vacant chair beside 
 Anne Page, which seemed, by tacit agreement, 
 to be left for him. Glancing around the table, 
 he perceived that Shirley had seated herself 
 on one side of the Colonel Dorothea was on
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 71 
 
 the other side and displayed in the Colonel's 
 buttonhole was the fine pink carnation ! 
 
 "A sight for sair e'en, Cousin Ellen," said the 
 Doctor to Mrs. Carrington at his right hand. 
 "The beautiful girls and the bowl of roses ! 
 Don't you think Shirley looks like her mother ?" 
 
 His friend smiled, but shook her head. 
 
 "Too much Berkeley ? I am afraid so. But 
 the Berkeley nose on Shirley doesn't seem to me 
 a bit too high." 
 
 "Shirley is perfect, exquisite," said Mrs. 
 Carrington. "I think most people would con 
 sider her more beautiful than her mother at her 
 age but Mary, you know, Mary Blair was 
 angelic ineffable." 
 
 "Well I only hope my girls will be half as 
 good as their mother ! See ! She knows we 
 are talking about her. My coffee, please, Mary, 
 after Mrs. Carrington ! You young people must 
 indulge me. I must hurry. Old Mrs. Ponson- 
 by's man was here at day-dawn. The old lady 
 imagines she is worse. No doctor needed here 
 - that is evident ! You must all have a pleas 
 ant day and don't wear out your voice, Mr. 
 Blake, before I return ! I shall ask for some of 
 your fine music this evening. Let me speak 
 to you a moment, James ?"
 
 72 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "What is it, Charlie ? Anything for me to 
 do ?" asked the Colonel, at the front door. 
 
 "I wish you would find out what ails Douglas 
 Newton. He looks pale and miserable. I par 
 ticularly wish him to enjoy his visit here." 
 
 "Lover's quarrel with Anne, perhaps." 
 
 "They may have quarrelled, for aught I know 
 to the contrary, but it looks like chills to me. 
 He might have an ague before I return. You 
 will find quinine powders in the office. The jar 
 is labelled. Dose him pretty liberally all the 
 morning; 'twon't hurt him." 
 
 Returning to the breakfast room, the Colonel 
 found that Dorothea had become the centre of 
 attraction. Rosalie had leaned across the table 
 and said, " I understand, Dolly, that you corre 
 spond with Mr. Blackwell." 
 
 "He wrote to me first," said Dorothea, apolo 
 getically. 
 
 "Ah ! I hope his letter was interesting ?" 
 
 "He didn't tell me anything; Cousin James 
 said it was just a love-letter. Did he ever write 
 to you, Cousin Rosalie ?" 
 
 "To me ? Well occasionally yes." 
 
 "Then you know the kind of love-letters he 
 writes," said Dorothea, dismissing the subject, 
 and buttering her muffin.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 73 
 
 "Tell me what kind you wrote to him," said 
 Rosalie. 
 
 Mr. Blackwell hastily essayed to interpose, 
 but Dorothea answered, "Oh, I wrote him a very 
 intrusting letter indeed ! I told him all the 
 family news - - I mean about Flora's family and 
 Uncle Isham's Susan," adding, as she perceived 
 amusement on every face except Rosalie's and 
 Mr. Blackwell's, "Cousin James said I must 
 excuse Tom, because he is so young. You won't 
 write love-letters when you're older, will you, 
 Tom?" 
 
 "Don't be too hard on me, Dolly!" But 
 just then the Colonel entered, and Dorothea, 
 feeling that he always understood her, nestled 
 to him and proceeded comfortably with her 
 breakfast, without further interest in Mr. Black- 
 well or his letters. She knew that young people 
 rarely talked to her seriously and sensibly, as her 
 Cousin James always talked. She was simply a 
 "medium" through which they communicated 
 with each other and this always embarrassed 
 her. So when, after breakfast, Mr. Blackwell put 
 his arm around her and began to complain of 
 her unkindness and demand indemnity therefor, 
 she was fully aware he had some ulterior motive. 
 
 "To think, Dolly, you should go back on me in
 
 74 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 this way and before everybody, too ! And I had 
 just learned such a lovely little boy's song to 
 teach you ! All about a little girl, too, and 
 
 now 
 
 M 
 
 And now," said Rosalie, "you are to teach us 
 girls, great and small, your song I dote on chil 
 dren's songs. Come, Little Boy Blue, and 'blow 
 me your horn ' !" 
 
 Dorothea was silent. She waited, knowing she 
 would get the song without committing herself 
 to further complications, and Mr. Blackwell 
 chanted in a low tone : 
 
 " Pretty little Pink, I used to think, that you and I 
 
 would marry, 
 
 But now I have no hopes of you, I can no longer tarry. 
 I'll put my knapsack on my back, my musket on my 
 
 shoulder 
 
 And march away to Mexico, and be a gallant soldier. 
 There money grows on white oak trees the rivers flow 
 
 with brandy, 
 The streets all paved with ginger-cakes the girls all 
 
 sweet as candy." 
 
 "Fine fellow," said Rosalie ; "a brave thing to 
 do especially now that all the fighting in 
 Mexico is over." 
 
 "He had, at least, the impulses of a patriot," 
 Tom protested. "He was willing to give his life
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 75 
 
 for his country. What was his life worth to him ? 
 The lady he loved had been unkind." 
 
 "No, no!" exclaimed Dorothea, earnestly. 
 "It was not at all for love of the pretty lady ! 
 He was going to Mexico to get the money and 
 brandy and ginger-cakes." 
 
 "True, Dorothea, perfectly true," said Rosalie. 
 " If she had been kind, he would have remained 
 comfortably at home and allowed other men to 
 do his fighting for him. He should have gone all 
 the sooner had she been kind gone for her 
 sake. Don't you think so, Dolly ?" 
 
 But Dorothea did not know just what to say. 
 Her friend Tom, she perceived, was at a disad 
 vantage, and she was sorry for him. She would 
 not commit herself. Still there was "Cousin 
 Rosalie" to be considered. She had heard much 
 discussion about the Mexican War, in which she 
 was keenly interested, and she proudly remem 
 bered that General Scott was a friend of the family, 
 had been her father's "best man" in fact. 
 Doubtless Rosalie had the best of the discussion. 
 One thing was clear : everybody should have 
 helped in time of war. She hastened to vindicate 
 the Colonel. 
 
 "Cousin James would have gone for the sake 
 of a dear lady," she explained, "but you see he
 
 76 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 didn't have one. I was very little then. He 
 knew about a lovely lady once, but she was not 
 his lady." 
 
 "Ah ! Are we quite sure it was not his lady ? " 
 Tom asked, "and was there a war in her day ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Dorothea, "and she wanted her 
 lover to stay with her, but he went to the wars 
 because he thought her friend should be brave 
 and noble. He said, ' I could not love thee, dear, 
 so much, loved I not honour more." 
 
 Tom clapped his hands in triumph. "Thank 
 you, Dolly ! If my memory serves, he went to 
 the war and was captured and imprisoned, and 
 when he returned, the fair Lucasta had married a 
 man who staid at home. That settles it ! If 
 you leave the lady a minute, you lose her." 
 
 "Now what are you puzzling my little duchess 
 about ?" said the Colonel, as he drew up a chair 
 and lifted Dorothea to his knee. The child 
 threw an arm around his neck and was about to 
 explain, when he raised his hand for silence. 
 The "small voice, the thread of gold !" Shirley 
 was singing to her guitar under the trees, her 
 guests around her : 
 
 "Youth must with Time decay 
 Beauty must fade away."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 77 
 
 The Colonel smiled, but his face grew grave 
 with feeling at the next words : 
 
 " Castles are sacked in war 
 Chieftains are scattered far 
 Truth is a fixed star ! " 
 
 "Isn't it 'Love' in the song?" said Tom, 
 '" Love is a fixed star ' ?" 
 
 ''They are one and the same," said the Colonel, 
 as he put Dorothea from his knee, and went with 
 her to find Douglas Newton. 
 
 "Do you know," said Rosalie, "I've a notion 
 that Colonel Jones has had a desperate love affair 
 in his youth ! Did you notice his uplifted, far 
 away look ? " 
 
 "His memory must be good if he recalls it," 
 Mr. Blackwell opined. "Why, he cannot be a 
 day less than thirty-five." 
 
 "He'd make a nice lover," Rosalie remarked. 
 "Do you observe that Shirley always wears pink 
 wild roses at breakfast ? The Colonel gathers the 
 closed buds every evening, cuts off all the thorns, 
 and they open beautifully, expressly for her. 
 Those delicate attentions are very captivating 
 so much better than everlasting compliments." 
 She had made Tom feel himself eclipsed, and en 
 joyed it.
 
 78 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 When the Colonel attempted to administer 
 the prophylactic prescribed by Dr. Berkeley, 
 young Newton stoutly rebelled. "Chill?" Yes. 
 He confessed he had felt decided chill in the 
 early morning, but it had been through his own 
 fault. He'd know how to avoid it a second time ! 
 However, he would accept the quinine keep 
 the powders in his pocket and use them if neces 
 sary. He supposed he ought, if he had any sense, 
 to go home ; but there was Blake, his guest, who 
 anticipated so much pleasure from his visit, and 
 for whom the surprise party to the Berkeleys' had 
 been arranged by Mrs. Carrington. They all 
 wanted Blake, who boasted of the hospitality 
 he had enjoyed in England, to see the best 
 Virginia could afford. All this he represented to 
 the Colonel, who assured him of Mr. Blake's 
 cordial welcome. 
 
 There could never be the slightest question as 
 to the happiness of young people gathered for a 
 visit to Berkeley Castle. Every resource of every 
 member of the family was for the time devoted 
 to them. If the weather was propitious, they 
 lived out of doors until the heat drove them 
 within. Outside the gravelled walk in front, 
 and on either side in the enclosed yard, had been 
 planted, years before, a circle of slender cedars,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 79 
 
 a fashion borrowed from the Indians, trained to 
 grow evenly and tall, the foliage shaven closely 
 within and without until it was like a smooth 
 green wall. The cedars were tied together at the 
 top, and when weighted, gave a mosque-like 
 effect to the little shelter. Rustic seats were 
 placed within, chairs and cushions provided, and 
 thither the young people repaired in couples 
 with a book to be read aloud, or with flute and 
 guitar in companies of three or four, to enjoy the 
 cool, clean spot, fragrant with resinous cedar, 
 and free from the insects and caterpillars that 
 infested the rose arbour. On one side of the yard a 
 large stone jutted out, and had been left when the 
 house was built to be removed at " some conven 
 ient time" ; but the time of leisure for such an 
 undertaking had never come. Mrs. Berkeley had 
 caused the earth to be hollowed out beneath the 
 sheltering stone, and what with a paving of shells 
 and pebbles, and clever training of flowering 
 vines, a grotto, deliciously cool, had been 
 achieved. 
 
 Young people, after all, are only overgrown 
 children. We are apt to consider them childish, 
 but two or three years before, they have been 
 really children; and such "cunning" nooks and 
 corners are always to their taste. "Can you tell
 
 80 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 me," said Miss Prissy, "why these girls had 
 rather sit on the stairs or the newel-post, or the 
 edge of a table or the arm of a chair than in a 
 good seat like Christian folk ?" 
 
 "Because," said Mrs. Carrington, "they were 
 children only day before yesterday and 'played 
 house.'" 
 
 However that may be, when the dear little 
 God of Love looks around, prospecting, for suit 
 able entourage for his manoeuvres, he always 
 chooses just such nooks and corners as were pro 
 vided at Berkeley Castle. Only lately had he felo 
 niously used a cedar arbour in a neighbour's ground 
 for one of his unreasonable and mischievous plans. 
 A beautiful daughter of the house had been for 
 bidden to receive, much less marry, the man the 
 little deity had selected for her. Cupid is re 
 sourceful, and his confidence in his own wisdom 
 is his prime characteristic. The pretty Alice, 
 hitherto shrinking, timid, and discreet, changed 
 gowns with her maid, and garbed in linsey- 
 woolsey, with a pail on her head, passed in the 
 early morning through her parents' bedroom 
 opening into her own, and joined her lover in 
 the cedar arbour, the arbour they had planted 
 on her birthday and trained with infinite pains 
 for her pleasure.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 81 
 
 On this morning, Shirley, accompanied by 
 Minerva with rugs and pillows, entered upon the 
 daily task of arranging the arbours for the day. 
 She had finished these and sent Minerva to the 
 house across the lawn while she examined the 
 grotto to see if it was in perfect order, with no 
 traces of snails or slugs, when Mr. Blake appeared 
 and begged for "just a minute one little min 
 ute" with him, that he might get acquainted 
 with the charming spot. 
 
 "It was an object of my curiosity yesterday," 
 he said. "To-day it is not a nymph-haunted 
 grotto it is a temple, and I worship my god 
 dess." And mockingly falling on one knee, he 
 clasped his hands and assumed an air of rapt de 
 votion. Shirley smiled down upon the wor 
 shipper as she sat enthroned on a high rustic 
 chair, and just at the moment Douglas Newton 
 passed, walking with Elvira, who whispered, 
 "We won't tell, will we ?" She perfectly well 
 understood these little play-acting scenes, and 
 was surprised to find young Newton flushing furi 
 ously. "The impertinent - '' he exclaimed, but 
 immediately controlled himself, and said coolly : 
 "Of course not. Every man has his rights." 
 
 "And every woman, too," said Elvira. She 
 understood at once, and resented his attitude
 
 82 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "and if Shirley Berkeley hasn't the right to hom 
 age, I don't know who has." 
 
 But her companion had not heard her. With 
 his handsome brows knitted he was trying to pull 
 himself together and face an unexpected state of 
 things. The grotto ! To him it had been a sa 
 cred spot. Why had he ever brought that mock 
 ing man of the world to profane it ? When he 
 was a lad, he had been permitted to come daily 
 to Berkeley Castle that he might be "coached" 
 for the university by Shirley's tutor. He could 
 remember Sabbath mornings when there was no 
 preaching at St. Martin's, and Shirley and he 
 would read the services together in the grotto ; 
 and when he was away at the University or 
 travelling abroad, he had often recalled this, im 
 agined her little white-robed figure, reading them 
 perhaps with Dorothea, and whispered rever 
 ently : 
 
 "Nymph, in thy orisons 
 Be all my sins remembered !" 
 
 He could not recall one hour in which he had 
 not loved her. As he strode in silence beside his 
 companion, Elvira looked at him curiously. 
 
 "Dear old Shirley has caught them both, I 
 reckon," she thought; "Anne will have to look
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 83 
 
 out ! I wonder if she'll take either ! My ! But 
 how Douglas has improved since he travelled. 
 Upon my word, I believe he's the best-looking 
 man I know. Give me a dark man every time. 
 No blue eyes for me !" 
 
 The day, so unfortunately begun, was no 
 prophecy of the days that followed. Never 
 were young people so busy and gay ! One day 
 it rained incessantly, and they danced polkas ; 
 played dominoes; "graces," an old-fashioned 
 game, with hoops and sticks ; battledore and 
 shuttlecock ; and sang no end of Moore's and 
 Byron's beautiful words set to the old folk-songs 
 of Scotland. The tender grace of melancholy 
 was the favourite of the hour hopeless love, 
 exile, mournful retrospection, sighs of the cap 
 tive, broken hearts, despair; these were dic 
 tated by fashion as suitable subjects for the 
 songs of polite society, and only perfectly 
 happy people could have borne to sing them ! 
 The Captive Knight who sees his comrades pass, 
 but too distant to be reached and released by 
 them ; the exiled maiden dying for her Swiss 
 mountains ! But the song that rent the tender 
 hearts of these youthful men and maidens was the 
 " Carrier Dove." How they-swelled with pitiful 
 sympathy at the words of the captive lover,
 
 84 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 doomed for life, as he gave to the air the Dove 
 with the message under its wing. 
 
 " I can bear in a dungeon to waste away youth, 
 I can fall by the conqueror's sword, 
 But I cannot endure she should doubt my truth ! " 
 
 After all none could equal in intensity of pas 
 sionate despair the "Good-bye" of Tosti in our 
 own day that cry of anguish with which we 
 are wont to enliven our afternoon teas ! Strange! 
 Is it that we need a bitter drop to give zest to an 
 over-sweet cup ? The death's head at the feast 
 never seems to have forbidden the revelry ; 
 the sword of Damocles doubtless interfered with 
 the digestion of the monarch, but we do not read 
 that it drove him from the banquet-hall. 
 
 The story of the week at Berkeley Castle af 
 fords but a slight sketch of summer social life in 
 old Virginia. The old-fashioned hospitality for 
 which she was famous sixty years ago deserves 
 more than a passing notice. Few survive who re 
 member it, and praiseworthy as are the efforts of 
 the young writers of the present day to imagine 
 and picture it, few succeed in making the old 
 time live again so widely different from any 
 that will ever succeed it. 
 
 A very slight acquaintance was considered
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 85 
 
 sufficient warrant for a visit of three or more 
 days ; and sometimes the casual visitor, like a 
 wind-blown seed, would fasten, take root, and 
 become a fixture for an entire summer. This 
 was often the case in Virginia the Virginia of 
 the warm heart and the open hand. There could 
 be found in every community some delightful, 
 cheery, thriftless ne'er-do-weel who loved his 
 fellow-man, but was quite too poor to entertain 
 him, and whose heart would have been broken 
 had he thought himself purposely left out in the 
 sending of invitations "to spend the summer." 
 If he did happen to find himself forgotten, why, 
 that was surely an oversight ! He would arrive, 
 all the same, with the rest, be welcomed as 
 warmly and take his place as confidently as any 
 of them. 
 
 An invitation sixty years ago would often read 
 thus : "You must come early in June and spend 
 the summer." The great, rambling old country 
 house, sprouting all over with rooms that had 
 been added as needed to the original structure, 
 would, about the middle of July, exhibit symptoms 
 of bursting. Attracted by the fun, the neigh 
 bouring lads and lassies would come for a visit of 
 a few days, and, as every available corner was 
 already filled, beds would be nightly or, rather,
 
 86 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 midnightly laid upon the drawing-room floor. 
 Everybody in the neighbourhood gave a dinner 
 party to everybody else. On such occasions the 
 guests would arrive about eleven in the morning, 
 dine at three, and drive home singing in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 Conversation, one must confess, was rather 
 stilted ; certainly it was literary, very compli 
 mentary, and absolutely free from personal gos 
 sip. The dinners were wonderful : fish, poultry, 
 game, roast, and every conceivable combination 
 of cream and sugar ; every preserved fruit known 
 to civilization ; wondrous wreaths cut from green 
 melon rinds, delicious in translucent syrup and 
 served in crystal dishes wreathed with roses. 
 Garlands of running cedar festooned the walls, 
 the cup of each silver candlestick held its own 
 posy, plumy asparagus filled the ample fireplaces, 
 bowls of roses gleamed from every corner and 
 adorned every table. In the midst of all this 
 bloom and beauty healths were pledged in old 
 Madeira, and in tall glasses crowned with "the 
 herb that grows on the graves of good Virginians." 
 The floors were waxed, the little piano was in 
 tune, and there was a dance in the afternoon. 
 As the shadows lengthened somebody would sing, 
 "When twilight dews are falling fast," or the
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 87 
 
 young men, smoking on the veranda, would im 
 provise verses, and "Vive FAmour" be given with 
 a rousing chorus. 
 
 On these occasions the girls wore their smartest 
 India muslins, tuned their guitars, and furbished 
 up something to recite : selections from "Lalla 
 Rookh," or the new genius, Tennyson. Visits 
 were made to the grottos and rose-clad summer- 
 houses, and to admire the treasures of the con 
 servatory, with its orange and lemon trees and 
 flaming pomegranates. All the servants, all the 
 children, all the old people, contributed to the 
 joy of the time ; and if some natural languor 
 ensued from so prolonged a season of gayety, the 
 universal sentiment was that so well expressed 
 by "The Shaughran, " "Begorra, 'twas worth 
 it!" 
 
 Of course, these summer house-parties would 
 ebb back to the city in winter, when our hospita 
 ble country friends would come to spend a month 
 or two in town. But nothing, no dinners, balls, 
 or theatres, not even "the celebrated preacher," 
 nothing could begin to equal the glorious time 
 in the big country houses. I can remember 
 naught but happiness connected with these house- 
 parties. I cannot recall any selfish struggling 
 for social preeminence, any inequality through
 
 88 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 respect for wealth, any mean jealousies or heart 
 burnings. Kind souls would sometimes be af 
 flicted because it was not possible for one beauty 
 to marry all her lovers ; but then she could prom 
 ise to, and appear to keep her word at least for 
 the summer, and thus things were softened and 
 made more comfortable. Happy days ! Sunny 
 days, perfumed with roses ! Starlit nights, and 
 "Moons of Villon," seeming in our dreams so 
 much fairer than the moons of to-day ! 
 
 The little party about to separate had reason, 
 all their lives, to remember the week they had 
 spent together at Berkeley Castle. The years 
 yet to come were to be ordered by emotions and 
 impulses, the keynote of which was struck that 
 first morning of their visit. Mr. Blake affected 
 to have surrendered at once. He was handsome 
 and agreeable, with the bearing of an accom 
 plished man of the world. He devoted himself 
 exclusively to Shirley, and openly seemed to press 
 his suit with vigour. He was the honoured guest 
 -the "gentleman from the North," who had 
 visited England and the continent. Nobody 
 questioned his antecedents, but all would have 
 liked to learn his politics. However, he did not 
 intrude them, and always he was a guest ! 
 There were plenty of subjects for conversation
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 89 
 
 without touching the crucial Wilmot proviso. 
 There were the stories of the new El Dorado of 
 the world, coming after a journey of forty days 
 in the mail-bags, stories which were accepted 
 with fervid belief. A rainbow had spanned the 
 continent, and the pot of gold been found at its 
 end. Said De Quincey, " California is going ahead 
 at a rate that beats Sinbad and Gulliver. It all 
 reads like a page from the 'Arabian Nights." 
 Then the brilliant triumphs of our flag in Mexico 
 were still recent. Songs born of the times and 
 the recent campaigns, military and political, chal 
 lenged attention as well as exiled maidens, captive 
 knights, and forlorn lovers. Just below the hori 
 zon even then was trembling the cloud destined 
 to burst in fury upon old Virginia, and the young 
 men and maidens who sang and danced away 
 the summer days proved themselves stout of 
 heart to meet it.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ON the last day of Mrs. Carrington's visit with 
 her party, Mr. Napoleon Johnson again encoun 
 tered the gardener. Mr. Johnson was strolling 
 through the garden, conscious of Andy's watchful 
 eye, albeit the gardener was apparently absorbed 
 in "hilling up" the celery. With an irresistible 
 desire to "get even" with his sharp-tongued 
 enemy he resolved to impart a secret which would 
 not only command attention but insure respect. 
 
 "We are leaving day after to-morrow, Mr. 
 What-you-may-call." 
 
 Andy continued to spade the mould over his 
 celery, and gave no sign. 
 
 "We'll likely come again soon ! I knows 
 something for sure, will bring us back !" 
 
 " If ye ken yer family secrets, ye may keep 'em," 
 said Andy. Then suddenly looking up from his 
 work, he exclaimed, " Eh, sirs ! Ye suldna stand in 
 the light o' the bleezing sunshine ! If yer insides 
 be comformable to yer outsides, it's a sair pity." 
 
 "I can tell you something, Mr. What's-his- 
 name," said the other, in a rage, "that'll change 
 
 9
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 91 
 
 your tune and mend your manners, and pretty 
 quick, too. Your young lady, Miss Shirley " 
 But he got no further. Raising his spade in a 
 threatening manner, Andy rushed towards him, 
 and thundered out : "Tak yer black carcase oot 
 o' my sight. Awa' wi' ye ! I'll " but Mr. 
 Napoleon Johnson was already far on his way to a 
 vantage-ground of safety. The gardener stooped 
 to pick up a stone, but thinking better of it, he 
 stacked his spade and walked to his little house. 
 There he repaired to a chest in a corner, unlocked 
 it, and withdrew from a small box carefully tied 
 with twine the letter he had found. "I'se no 
 guiding just what to do neist," he pondered, "the 
 black skellum ! I dinna ken ! I sudna hae been 
 sae rash, but mairciful Providence alane kept me 
 from whanging him aside his heid wi' my spade. 
 I'll e'en do it, gin he comes spearing aboot my 
 young lady. What maun be maun be !" He 
 appreciated the necessity of giving up what 
 clearly belonged to another, but had no clear idea 
 to whom he should confide the letter which would 
 settle Blake. "Not to the bonny leddy her ain- 
 sell ! I'll no smirch her fair saul wi' the like o' 
 it ! The master is whiles unco' hasty and it 
 will be mair mensefu' if nae bluid be spilt. The 
 auld leddy, Miss Prissy ? Na, na ! She wadna
 
 92 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 bide to read it." These thoughts chased each 
 other through his perplexed mind as he walked 
 slowly towards the house. 
 
 He had not gone far from his cottage when he 
 met his prime favourite, Douglas Newton. 
 
 "Ah, Andy ! I am glad to see you. We leave 
 in a day or two now and I haven't found time 
 to see much of you and the flowers." 
 
 "Ye'll come again sune, I'm thinkin' ?" 
 
 "No, Andy, not soon perhaps not ever." 
 
 "Whisht!" whispered the gardener, thrilled 
 by a sudden resolution. "Come awa', man, into 
 my bit cot yonder ! There's pryin' eyes an* 
 listenin' ears hereabout ! I maun speak to you 
 your lane." 
 
 "Why, what is it, Andy," said Douglas, who 
 really feared the gardener had lost his senses. 
 But Andy gripped him by the arm and hurried 
 him on. 
 
 After peering all around the cottage he entered, 
 and carefully shutting the door, he opened the 
 letter with fingers trembling with excitement, and 
 placed it under Newton's eyes. 
 
 "Why this is not meant for me ! Where did 
 you get it nobody could have sent this to me !" 
 
 Andy turned over the little sheet and exhibited 
 the address.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 93 
 
 Young Newton was astounded. Nothing could 
 have been more compromising than the few 
 words he read. The signature was that of a 
 person notorious in the papers even in that reti 
 cent age a person whom no decent man could 
 possibly know. 
 
 "Oh, Andy, " he said at last in distress, "you 
 should not have done this ! " And to the gar 
 dener's great surprise and discomfiture he thrust 
 the paper back into his hand, saying sternly : 
 "You should not have kept it one hour. It be 
 longs to Mr. Blake, and you must restore it to 
 him." 
 
 The gardener commenced a surly protest, but 
 Newton had broken away and was striding down 
 the garden walk leading to the stream at the 
 bottom. Resting his hand on top of the wall, he 
 lightly leaped over, and walked along a little 
 path among the reeds and rushes to a willow over 
 hanging the water. Beneath the tree was a stone, 
 a favourite spot to which he had often resorted in a 
 troubled hour during the past week. As soon as 
 he was seated the little fishes in a pool at his feet 
 appeared to catch the food they had learned to 
 expect from him. Sorely dazed as he was he 
 could not resist the mute appeal. Putting his 
 hand in his accustomed pocket to find some
 
 94 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 crumbs that might have been left and finding 
 none, he tried another, and his fingers closed over 
 folded papers which proved to be the quinine 
 powders the Colonel had given him. He was 
 about to throw them in the water when he remem 
 bered. "God forbid I should make the cup 
 bitter for you," he said, "or for any creature 
 that crawls," and the powders were restored to 
 their hiding-place. 
 
 He felt himself to be in a most terrible position. 
 Blake, well, it was not for him to constitute 
 himself judge, and convict or punish any man ! 
 He had thought so well of Blake ! He had intro 
 duced him to his dearest, most valued friends ! 
 The letter certainly belonged to him, and should be 
 restored to him. Was it his duty to expose Blake 
 to Dr. Berkeley ? Trouble and embarrassment 
 might ensue. He felt humiliated that he should 
 have introduced Blake. Yet what reason had 
 he for suspecting him ? At all events he would 
 have to endure him until the end of his visit, 
 which he prayed might be near. 
 
 As to Shirley her manner towards himself 
 had been that of ordinary courtesy. She had 
 given him no chances. He had not found her one 
 moment alone. No matter ! She was fresh from 
 school. No man was ahead of him. She was
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 95 
 
 now a woman, exquisite, living, breathing and 
 to be won ! In imagination he saw her in a fine 
 old colonial mansion, with every luxury that 
 wealth could give, or the devotion of one man sug 
 gest and that mansion was Beechwood and 
 that man was Douglas Newton. A sudden ela 
 tion filled his young heart born, however, of 
 no clearly defined plan and his step was elastic 
 and buoyant as he retraced the iris-bordered 
 path, leaped over the low wall, and ascended the 
 terrace-steps leading to the broad gravelled walk 
 in the garden. Down this walk the Colonel, 
 Shirley, and Dorothea were slowly pacing, Shirley 
 and the Colonel evidently absorbed in some inter 
 esting topic and little Dorothea, with upturned 
 face, an earnest listener. 
 
 "Good morning," called Douglas. "Are you 
 planning what you are going to do with us to 
 day?" 
 
 "Precisely !" said Shirley, "we are conspira 
 tors. We have come forth to look for you that 
 you may conspirit with us." 
 
 "Come into the summer-house," said the 
 Colonel. He seated himself and took Dorothea 
 on his knee. "Now this is the state of the case : 
 Nobody is coming to dine, and nobody has asked 
 us to go to them. We've been everywhere
 
 96 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 done everything. Consequently there's nothing 
 more to do. Shirley is positively clear on one 
 point, that she cannot face another long, hot 
 day listening to Mr. Blake's reading of senti 
 mental poetry and his own personal applications 
 thereon, and - 
 
 "Now, Cousin James, how can you say that ? 
 Am I n6t always delighted to hear him ?" 
 
 "Well, Shirley," said the Colonel, shrugging his 
 shoulders, "that's what you told me last night ! 
 That was your candle-light impression. We 
 can then dismiss the new arrangement and repeat 
 the experiences of yesterday." 
 
 "Oh, dear me !" said Shirley. "I thought it 
 was all settled." 
 
 "Yes, Douglas," chimed in little Dorothea, 
 "we are all going to Catesby to spend the day. 
 Shirley did say " 
 
 "Never mind, darling ! - - You see, Douglas, 
 Cousin James thinks as every one of us here is a 
 son or daughter of an old friend of his father and 
 mother, and must have visited Catesby in child 
 hood, it will be interesting to go there again. 
 Some of us might remember I know Mama 
 and Aunt Prissy could and Cousin Ellen. It 
 is only six miles away. But we'll have to hurry. 
 It is ten o'clock now."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 97 
 
 "How about Mr. Blake?" 
 
 "Oh I suppose he'll have to go along ! He 
 might prefer to stay at home, and Milly could 
 take care of him until Papa comes from his sick 
 people." 
 
 "I never heard anything as delightful," ex 
 claimed Douglas. "I'll go with you to the 
 stables, Colonel, and see about the traps." 
 
 "And I'll find Aunt Prissy. We were going 
 to have chicken salad to-day, and the chickens 
 were roasted yesterday. We can fill baskets with 
 ham and pickles, cold duck and chickens, and 
 beaten biscuit ! Come, Dolly," and taking the 
 little girl's hand, she ran lightly up the terrace 
 steps on her errand. 
 
 "The truth is," said the Colonel, "Shirley is 
 tired out. She looks positively haggard. If you 
 want my opinion, I should say she has had a 
 little too much Blake in her share of the pleasant 
 week. I observe she quoted me. The plan 
 for to-day is hers." 
 
 "I thought she liked his company," said 
 Douglas, gravely. 
 
 "A little too much, then, of a good thing. 
 Anyhow, the idea is hers, not mine. I'm too 
 good a friend of all of you to take you on any 
 such wild expedition. I haven't seen the place
 
 98 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 for a month. There was a snake on the front 
 porch last time I was there and I didn't kill 
 the snake, either." 
 
 "There'll be another," said Douglas, "if Blake 
 goes with us." 
 
 " Why, man, what do you mean ? I thought 
 he was your friend." 
 
 "So he was so he is no longer ! Ah, well ! 
 I suppose I have my humours, and I have also 
 my prejudices. But, Colonel--! can say no 
 more now, but as I brought him here I feel 
 responsibility, and I am free to say to you con 
 fidentially, I like him less than I did." 
 
 The Colonel was accustomed to the petty 
 jealousies, the temporary estrangements, the 
 warm reconciliations of young people, nay, 
 families, and he attached no serious impor 
 tance to this. But in the hasty arrangements 
 for the day, he resolved to observe Mr. Blake 
 more closely. 
 
 Now as they walked to the stables, he sud 
 denly recalled the fact that Blake had been re 
 ceived without any thought or question as to 
 his antecedents. 
 
 "By the bye, Douglas," he said, "where did 
 you first meet Mr. Blake ? What do you know 
 about him ?"
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 99 
 
 "That last question is one I am asking myself. 
 We went over in the same ship, and he made 
 himself extremely agreeable to all the passengers. 
 I had the letters you had given me to the Amer 
 ican Minister who kindly invited me to spend 
 a few days with him, and Blake called upon me 
 at his home. Of course I introduced him, and 
 Mr. Bancroft invited him to dine one day. 
 Everybody liked him. I remember Mr. Bancroft 
 very cordially assured him of welcome when 
 he returned. I met him again on the Continent. 
 He seemed to take a great fancy to me, and when 
 we parted, I invited him to Newton Hall." 
 "Then really you know nothing of the man." 
 "I know all I wish to know," said Douglas. 
 "I shall treat him with civility while he is my 
 guest. Apres? Well, that depends upon his 
 future movements. He is certainly not to move 
 in our circle longer than I can help."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "REMARKS upon my farming will not be in 
 order," the Colonel called out, as the cavalcade 
 paused for a gate on rusty hinges to be opened 
 from the main road. " I can see at a glance that 
 the hayricks were not covered, and the rain has 
 made mischief; but then, on the other hand, 
 the tobacco is lifting its head; that is our 
 main chance, and old Abram has it in fine 
 condition." 
 
 A short drive through an avenue of cedars, 
 somewhat ragged from age, brought them to 
 the box-bordered front yard of the residence. 
 The tree variety of box had been planted there, 
 each side of a little gate, and cut and trimmed 
 to simulate a tall square pillar with a large ball 
 on top, copying in green the granite gate 
 pillars of the early colonist, upon which he was 
 wont to chisel his English coat-of-arms. These 
 evergreen imitations had been long strangers to 
 the pruning knife, and, taking the gate in close 
 embrace, had grown together in a solid mass,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 101 
 
 pathetic reminders of the fact that no step of 
 owner, neighbour, or friend had for years passed 
 between them. 
 
 "Now, here's a hospitable entrance to be sure," 
 laughed Shirley. 
 
 "But no prophetic message," stoutly declared 
 the Colonel. "That impertinent box shall be 
 pruned into shape, Miss Shirley ! Some day, 
 you and Mary and Dorothea, and Douglas and 
 Miss Anne and all of you will come and walk 
 through not around." 
 
 But having now walked around, a new ob 
 stacle presented itself. A honeysuckle had fallen 
 from the porch and crawled like a huge serpent 
 over the front walk, finally encountered an oak, 
 clambered up, and taken possession comfortably 
 of the lower branches. 
 
 ' 'With wild thyme and the gadding vine 
 o'ergrown,"' said Douglas. "A ' gadding vine' 
 indeed ! " 
 
 "A family trait!" said the Colonel. "I am 
 a gadding vine myself - - left my own place where 
 I was planted, and took possession of a neigh 
 bour's roof-tree." 
 
 "I can remember," said Douglas, "this honey 
 suckle on the front porch. I was here a little 
 fellow with my mother on a visit, sitting on
 
 102 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 the bench below the trellis, and a green snake 
 scared me almost to death, winding around the 
 stem. It was going up to a nest full of young 
 wrens in the eaves. I never forgot it." 
 
 "Ah ! that was the ancestor perhaps of the 
 big fellow I saw here last month," said the 
 Colonel. 
 
 "No," said Douglas. "Snakes that cross my 
 path on their \\ay to young birds have no de 
 scendants." 
 
 The Colonel had now opened the front doors, 
 flanked by diamond-paned side-lights, and 
 crowned by a "rose-window" from which many 
 of the small panes of glass were missing, and 
 going forward, threw open the doors leading 
 from a broad central hall into rooms on either 
 side, and through another door to a long veranda 
 in the rear. Returning, he said with a low bow, 
 "The lord of the castle humbly bids you wel 
 
 come." 
 
 "Where are his lordship's retainers ?" said 
 Mrs. Berkeley. "Methinks there were many 
 in the ancient days." 
 
 But Dorothea had run around the house from 
 the front gate, and now appeared with a digni 
 fied old black woman, wearing a madras turban, 
 a handkerchief folded over her ample breast,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 103 
 
 and a white apron all bearing crisp folds from 
 recent ironing. 
 
 "Ah!" said the Colonel. "How are you, 
 Aunt Chloe ? I've brought you some company, 
 you see." 
 
 "Howdy, Marse Jeems ! How you come on ? 
 Your servant, ladies and gentlemen," with a 
 curtsey, but an anxious look in her face, born of 
 conscious inability on her own part to provide 
 refreshment for so many. "The house is puf- 
 fickly clean, suh," she added; "I swep' it all out 
 yistiddy-- an' an' there's a print o' fresh 
 butter in the spring." 
 
 "Who is with you in the kitchen ?" asked the 
 Colonel. "Susan Maria's little Jane and Peter 
 Jones ? Well, make Susan Maria's little Jane 
 run across the field and tell Abram to send me 
 two of the boys to take the horses, and you send 
 Peter Jones right away to the spring for a pail 
 of fresh water ; and boil your kettle - 
 
 "Now, James," interposed Mrs. Berkeley, 
 "just please take yourself off with your guests 
 and leave Ellen with me and Aunt Chloe. Send 
 in the stores. Where is the sumpter mule with 
 his panniers ? Ah, Douglas ! Don't leave the 
 basket of ice out there in the sun ! Bring it in 
 here to me ! Tom, run down in the garden and
 
 io 4 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 look for the mint bed. Instinct will guide you. 
 Take care, Rosalie ! If you go along, you must 
 look out for briers on your muslin flounces. 
 Give me your keys, James. I'll find the brandy ! 
 You don't say so ? Some of the old Madeira ? 
 That's fine ! Off with you all of you until 
 you're called." 
 
 The Colonel ushered his guests into an im 
 mense drawing-room divided by a row of pillars. 
 Sofas and chairs covered with black horsehair 
 cloth stood stiffly against the wall, and, with a 
 round centre-table holding an Astral lamp, 
 comprised the entire furnishing of the room. 
 A fine copy in Carrara marble of the Venus di 
 Medici stood on a pedestal in one corner, and 
 one beautiful engraving hung over the mantel 
 a Raffaello Morghen proof of Guide's "Aurora." 
 The lovely goddess in her gracious attitude, 
 and the glorious Hours surrounding the trium 
 phal car of the Rising Sun seemed strangely 
 out of keeping with the grim untenanted chairs 
 and the long-ago extinguished lamp. Mr. Blake 
 had not the tact to suppress his appreciation of 
 this incongruous assembling, but was instantly, 
 though courteously, quenched by the Colonel. 
 
 "No ill omens, my dear sir ! The old house is 
 surrounded with many singing birds ; the swal-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 105 
 
 lows build in her chimneys, but the Raven 
 has not yet nested among them. My Venus 
 stands there ready to welcome youth and beauty 
 in the future, as she welcomes it now golden 
 hours and a rising sun are already here and 
 coming again some day." 
 
 He was determined to make this a happy day ; 
 and full as was his own heart of emotion at the 
 gathering of the children of his parents' old 
 friends under his own roof, some of whom he 
 held dearest of all others in the world, con 
 scious as he always was of the sleepers in the 
 grove beyond the garden, he allowed no word 
 or look to mar the light gayety of his guests. 
 From room to room he led them : to the 
 library with its Hanoverian book-case and tat 
 tered leather chair, to the ballroom above, with 
 its shining floor and many windows, clearly 
 intimating that dances by daylight might often 
 be in order; to the bedrooms retaining little 
 except high bedsteads to be ascended by means 
 of steps at the side of each, and tall tables before 
 which the belles of half a century ago had stood, 
 high priests of the mysteries of a beauty's 
 toilet. 
 
 "Where do you sleep, if you can sleep at all 
 in this haunted house?" asked Mr. Blake.
 
 io6 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 :< Tom and Douglas can answer that or, 
 rather, where I don't sleep when they honour me 
 with their company," said the Colonel. He 
 began to think there might be reason in young 
 Newton's change of heart. The man evidently 
 lacked sensibility fineness. He could recall, 
 now that he was observant, many questions of 
 an intimate nature. 
 
 "There's a call for help in the dining-room," 
 was announced from the foot of the stairs. 
 
 "The punch ! Here ! Here ! Mrs. Carring- 
 ton, I am coming," exclaimed Douglas. 
 
 "Not at all stay where you are, young man. 
 Careful hands are needed to wash the Colonel's 
 Sevres plates. He expressly orders them to be 
 used ! Not you, Elvira ! You have a gift for 
 breaking china. Send Mildred." 
 
 "But how about the punch ?" 
 
 "Punch, indeed for dinner! Where are 
 your lemons I'd like to know ? You are going to 
 have hot coffee, and we did propose mint 
 julep and brought ice, if Tom and Rosalie 
 can get their consent to leave the garden and 
 come in out of the hot sun." 
 
 "How ever do you happen to have genuine 
 Sevres plates ?" asked the personal Mr. Blake, 
 once more.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 107 
 
 "Simply because I drove two and a half miles 
 out of Paris to select them where they are made. 
 But my mother's crockery is older and more 
 interesting." 
 
 The dinner was a pronounced success. Tom 
 and Rosalie had justified their long absence in 
 the garden, by bringing in, not only mint, 
 but a basket of fine fresh figs. The old panelled 
 dining-room held a happy company. La Fayette 
 had dined there once, and many a Revolutionary 
 officer, to say nothing of an occasional visit from 
 a President of the United States. "I mean to 
 have General Winfield Scott here at no distant 
 day to meet the present company," said the 
 Colonel. "You have all given me a new spirit 
 by your presence. I had no idea that the bare 
 old rooms could be so glorified. To our next 
 meeting ! Certainly, Dolly darling ! If you 
 don't honour the toast, I withdraw it." 
 
 "Wait a moment !" exclaimed Douglas, whose 
 seat faced a front window. "There is the Doc 
 tor coming in." 
 
 "A pretty march you stole on me," said the 
 Doctor, at whose entrance all had risen. "So 
 you left me with Aunt Prissy, did you ? She 
 was making brandy peaches, and literally drove 
 me out of the house. But how bright and clean
 
 io8 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 this room looks. Not at all musty as one might 
 expect. Were you careful about spiders ? Never 
 sweep them down, you know, to crawl about." 
 
 "Spiders!" said Mrs. Berkeley, indignantly. 
 "Ah, you wise and learned Doctor! * Spiders 
 never set their webs on a cedar roof." 
 
 "Authority !" demanded the Doctor. 
 "Granted ! granted ! I know your ways of 
 old, Mary. My own literary reminiscence is 
 that 
 
 !< The subtle spider never spins 
 But on dark days his slimy gins." 
 
 "And the days in this dear old house have been 
 dark for many years," said the Colonel. 
 
 "Because," said the Doctor, "we have been 
 so selfish as to borrow their light. The day was 
 pretty dark for me this noon when I alighted 
 at my own door and found my birds all flown." 
 
 The Colonel's old India-blue china challenged 
 the warmest approbation of the elders of the 
 party. 
 
 "It possesses a strange charm for me," said 
 Mrs. Carrington. "The very shape of those 
 covered cups, and squarish dishes stirs my heart. 
 I don't know what the picture means, so queer 
 and out of perspective. I only know it is per 
 fectly fascinating."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 109 
 
 "Cousin James knows," said Dorothea. 
 
 "Then, of course, the Colonel will tell us," 
 said Anne Page. "Only here and now it is 
 hereafter to be my story ! I've asked for it, 
 and I alone am to have the honour of knowing 
 it and telling it at dinners when I go down to 
 Richmond. They are all crazy there about 
 French china, but I can dilate upon the old blue 
 and look superior and learned." 
 
 "Suppose I decline to tell you !" laughed the 
 Colonel. "Suppose I patent my story! How 
 do you know I may not invent it after all ? " 
 
 Anne rested her cheek thoughtfully on the 
 tips of her fingers. " Alas ! " she sighed, " I am 
 quite powerless ! I am so small and insignifi 
 cant ! Sometimes yes indeed, sometimes 
 * my little body is a-weary of this great world.' 
 And yet and yet I might ' suppose ' too ! 
 Suppose / know a secret not about the 
 Colonel but about somebody the Colonel 
 thinks the world of. Suppose that somebody 
 would faint away if I told it ! Suppose I say 
 I will tell it, unless I learn all about this willow 
 plate." 
 
 "Blackmail, and punishable by the laws of 
 the Commonwealth!" exclaimed Douglas, with 
 half-concealed anxiety.
 
 i io THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 " I can't get my consent to be a bore, even to 
 save bloodshed or defamation of character," 
 the Colonel declared ; but the unanimous vote 
 of the party brought the old story how a rich 
 Mandarin who lived in the large house had a 
 daughter, Li Chi, who very improperly went to 
 work to capture poor Chang, the gardener's son. 
 How, under the orange tree, they said things 
 which the Mandarin overheard. How he made 
 a great to-do, and laid down the law; never 
 dreaming that any earthly mortal would dare 
 disobey for Mandarins are extremely hasty 
 and have small respect for people's heads ; how 
 the small house in a corner of the plate is the 
 gardener's cottage and there the lovers hid, 
 and obtaining a boat, eloped to the little hut 
 near the top, which represents the humble 
 home Chang had provided for his bride; how 
 the Mandarin pursued them with a whip, and 
 would have beaten them to death had not the 
 gods dwelling in the sacred mountains, quite at 
 the top of the plate, turned them into turtle 
 doves, an interesting species of bird that has 
 been found to be indigenous to all countries, all 
 climes, and which changed its song ever after to 
 a mourning plaint. "Miss Li Chi and Mr. 
 Chang," add^d the Colonel, "eloped in early
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY in 
 
 spring, when the willows put forth their leaves. 
 Hence the willow tree in the picture ! The 
 season is regularly observed by American turtle 
 doves." 
 
 "Very nice, very satisfactory," observed Anne, 
 thoughtfully, "but I'll make a deal more of it 
 when I tell it. My secret is safe until further 
 provocation." 
 
 "Miss Anne is rash," said Douglas. "Other 
 people might be armed with a 'suppose,' not 
 altogether supposititious." 
 
 It was always understood that upon every 
 excursion the Colonel and Primrose would take 
 care of Shirley and Dorothea in their own little 
 cart. "Did you like the old house, Shirley?" 
 he asked, bending his head to find her face 
 under the brim of her deep bonnet, as they 
 drove home in the delicious evening air. 
 
 "Loved it," the girl replied fervently. "It 
 is the dearest old house ! And that wonderful 
 portrait of Admiral Ap Catesby Jones ! And 
 your own portrait exactly like you over 
 the high mantel in the dining room. The eyes 
 followed me everywhere did you notice, Dolly ? 
 Bring us again soon, please." 
 
 "Soon and often. I shall set about rehabili 
 tating the place at once. While you are away,
 
 ii2 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 I shall make a beginning. It shall be every 
 thing it used to be." 
 
 "I wish I could stay and help you," said 
 Shirley. "We could be so happy over it. Dear ! 
 Dear ! It's a pity poor Papa must have those 
 
 waters." 
 
 Alas ! She little knew how deeply her words 
 sank into her hearer's heart !
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE young company elected to make this last 
 evening of their happy week a musical festival. 
 Shirley was accomplished in music, having had 
 a rare genius for her teacher ; Rosalie and Mil 
 dred sang duets from " Norma," and a wonder 
 ful example of colorature, "I've wandered in 
 dreams"; Elvira played a Spanish fandango on 
 the guitar; Anne, a dignified Portia, recited 
 "You see me, Lord Bassanio"; Tom Black- 
 well, on being called upon, declared, in an 
 injured tone, that he must be excused, that 
 although he had a good voice and knew a good 
 song, he had been so cruelly criticised by his 
 first audience at Berkeley Castle Miss Rosalie 
 and Miss Dorothea that his feelings had not 
 yet recovered from the shock they had sustained. 
 
 As Mr. Blake was the star of the company, he 
 was allowed the concluding song and quite 
 electrified his audience by an ambitious aria from 
 a recent opera. 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Prissy, Mrs. Carrington, the 
 Doctor, and the Colonel made a partie carree
 
 n 4 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 for whist in the library; and Mrs. Berkeley 
 was only too happy to rest in the veranda with 
 tired little Dorothea in her arms, out of the way, 
 and responsible for nobody's amusement. The 
 day, with its memories, had been full for her, and 
 she felt subdued in spirit and glad to be alone. 
 After the ambitious music had been duly 
 rendered and admired, Mr. Blake sang again 
 and again and finally, "recalling the wonderful 
 day, " offered Hood's tender song, " I remember, 
 I remember the cot where I was born," new, 
 then, and destined never to grow old, render 
 ing, with touching pathos, the concluding lines : 
 
 " I remember, I remember the fir trees dark and high ; 
 I used to think their shady tops grew close against the 
 
 sky; 
 
 It was a childish ignorance but, ah ! 'Tis little joy 
 To find I'm farther off from Heaven than when I was a 
 
 boy." 
 
 He had a sympathetic audience, ready for 
 tears or smiles on demand. Douglas fancied he 
 saw Shirley's eyes dimming, lost all patience, 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 " Isn't there another verse, Blake ? That is 
 too pathetic an ending." 
 
 "Unfortunately, no other would be appro 
 priate."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 115 
 
 "It might end this way pardon me," and 
 taking the guitar from the hand of the singer, he 
 imitated to perfection his rapt uplifted look, and 
 in a fine barytone, rolled out : 
 
 " I remember, I remember the peach tree by the wall ; 
 I used to watch its shady tops in hopes a peach would fall; 
 It was a childish ignorance but, ah ! 'Tis little joy 
 To find that I get no more fruit than when I was a boy." 
 
 The laughter that followed irritated Blake; 
 and an ugly gleam shot from his eye. Douglas 
 saw it and was stimulated to press his advan 
 tage. An encore being demanded, he offered, 
 as he explained, "the wholesome warning con 
 veyed in the story of a Scottish lassie, Maggie, 
 as related by one who had evidently suffered." 
 He sang, alternating with recitative, the verses 
 telling of one Duncan Grey, who had visited a 
 country house with the express purpose of wooing 
 the fair daughter thereof. "Even as you and 
 I," thought more than one of his hearers, as 
 many another has thought since. "It appears," 
 said Douglas, "that the Maggie of the poet 
 knew her power. Her heart was hardened to 
 her lover. She enjoyed his pain. She 'cast 
 her head full high,' and scorned poor Duncan 
 when he begged and prayed, even when he
 
 ii6 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 threatened suicide 'spak'o* loupin o'er a linn.' 
 Finally, seeing that 
 
 "Time and chance are but a tide 
 And slighted love is sair to bide, 
 
 Duncan resolved to pull himself together and go 
 about his business. A worm will turn ! 
 
 "'Shall I like a fool,' quoth he, 
 * For a haughty hizzie dee ? 
 She may go to France for me.' 
 
 The wisdom of this course was immediately 
 justified : 
 
 " How it came, let doctors tell. 
 
 Meg grew sick as he grew heal. 
 
 Something in her bosom wrings : 
 
 For relief a sigh she brings ; 
 
 And ah, her e'en they spake sic things ! 
 
 "Observe," continued Douglas, "the innate 
 nobility and magnanimity of my sex. A woman 
 now the more he suffered, the more he might, 
 but our lover had a noble soul : 
 
 " Duncan was a lad of grace; 
 Maggie's was a piteous case ; 
 Duncan could not be her death ! 
 Swelling pity smoored his wrath. 
 Now they're crouse and happy both !" 
 
 And crouse (cheerful) and happy was the party 
 when, at a late hour, it broke up. "He jests
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 117 
 
 at scars who never felt a wound," whispered 
 Blake, in bidding Shirley good night. 
 
 Soon the lights were out, and the moon and 
 stars looked down upon a hushed household, 
 hushed, but not asleep at least not all of its 
 inmates. 
 
 The place assigned to Douglas that night was 
 upon a sofa in the parlour. He did not occupy 
 it. He walked far out on the avenue, returned, 
 and walked again. His visit would end the 
 next day. Reacting from the elation of the 
 morning, he was now persuaded from Shirley's 
 manner that she did not care for him. He had 
 come a week before, resolved to tell her of his 
 love for her ; how he had loved her ever since his 
 boyhood, how he had cherished her image all 
 through his university life, and studied and 
 taken honours for her sake. How her dear face 
 had been the companion of all his travels in 
 the snows of Switzerland or under Italian skies ; 
 how he had come home to win her. Now she 
 would never know it ! He was not the man 
 to importune any woman ! 
 
 All at once he thrilled with a sudden resolu 
 tion. Stealing into the drawing-room, he found 
 his guitar. He knew that Shirley and Dorothea 
 slept in the "wing" built against the Doctor's
 
 u8 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 bedroom. He crept noiselessly close to the one 
 window that looked into the garden. The 
 Doctor might hear, others might hear, and 
 Shirley, in her deep young sleep, might hear 
 nothing ! No matter. He was only a serenader ; 
 that was too common an incident to awaken 
 interest or surprise. Tuning his instrument 
 softly, he drew near to the casement, and with 
 all the passion of his heavily burdened heart, 
 sang that most tender song, of the most ardent 
 of lovers : 
 
 " My love is like a red, red rose 
 
 That's newly sprung in June ; 
 My love is like the melody 
 
 That's sweetly played in tune ; 
 And thou art fair, my dearest dear ! 
 
 And none can love as I ! 
 And I will love thee still, my dear, 
 
 Till a' the seas gang dry. 
 
 " Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
 
 And the rocks melt with the sun ! 
 I will love thee still, my dear, 
 While the sands o' life shall run ! " 
 
 Something soft fell on the strings of his guitar. 
 Looking up, he beheld Dorothea's night-capped 
 head between the half-closed shutters, and her 
 little brown out-thrust arm. "Here's a rose
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 119 
 
 for you, Douglas," she whispered, disappearing 
 with a suddenness that suggested prompt action 
 on the part of some one within. He picked up 
 the flower, put it in his bosom, and as he slowly 
 departed, the tender impassioned words floated 
 back : 
 
 " Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
 
 And the rocks melt with the sun ! 
 I will love thee still, my dear, 
 
 While the sands o' life shall run ! " 
 
 He had told her he had said it ! It was a 
 vow, whether she heard it or no. 
 
 He sat long on the door-step, in a state of 
 exaltation. Presently he felt something cold 
 touch his hand. Flora had left her little family 
 at the stable, and come around the house to see 
 who this early morning singer might be. He 
 laid a caressing hand on the dog's head, and kept 
 her beside him. Not until the crimson glory 
 streamed up from the east did he enter the 
 house and throw himself on the couch prepared 
 for him. 
 
 Meanwhile the Colonel, in the small room 
 behind the office, thought long and seriously of 
 his morning talk with Douglas ; with the result 
 that the next mail to England bore this letter 
 to the American Minister :
 
 120 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 MY DEAR MR. BANCROFT, 
 
 I have not thanked you for your kindness to Douglas 
 Newton, in response to my letters introducing him. I 
 hoped for nothing more than the honour of having my 
 young friend meet you. It has been a great happiness to 
 learn from him of your cordial welcome and his delightful 
 visit to you. I recall vividly similar kindness to myself 
 when I, a raw college graduate, met you at Heidelberg, 
 crowned with your Gottingen honours and already a fixed 
 star in the literary firmament. 
 
 We are still, in this country, jubilant over our Mexican 
 triumphs, and we have, as you know, placed the military 
 hero in the chair vacated by the statesman. Many of us 
 stubborn Old Line Whigs although we be would have 
 liked to see the chair filled by the majestic figure of Win- 
 field Scott, than whom the Almighty never made a braver 
 or nobler man. How far we may err in making our highest 
 office a spoil of war instead of a place of hard service re 
 quiring a special training and fitness remains to be seen. 
 At the present moment in this country the sword is might 
 ier than the pen. It has just decapitated your friend 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne and taken from him a government 
 office at Salem. Unable to dig and ashamed to beg, 
 Hawthorne is now engaged in another business, novel- 
 writing, which is, I am told, quite as lucrative an indus 
 try as any. 
 
 But I must not, in the delight of writing to you, forget
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 121 
 
 that you are a busy man. I am at present in a house 
 full of young men and women, the veriest children, all of 
 them, and small use have they for an old fellow ! Your 
 friend, Newton, is one of them ; soon, I think, to marry an 
 interesting member of the Page family. At the present 
 midnight moment I hear in the distance the twang of a 
 guitar, and make no doubt he is pouring out his soul under 
 her window. 
 
 By the bye, he has brought with him a Mr. Blake, who 
 was thrown with him on board ship and afterwards pre 
 sented by him to you. I am surprised to find that he knew 
 too little of Blake before he did so, and now it seems some 
 thing has arisen between the young men which constrains 
 Newton to withdraw all acquaintance with Blake after 
 this visit is over. I mention it lest the latter should make 
 demands, warranted apparently by us, upon your courtesy, 
 that you may know simply that we no longer know him! 
 But I must not trespass upon your indulgence. I am, 
 with great respect and gratitude, 
 
 Faithfully your friend, 
 JAMES MADDOCK JONES. 

 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE next morning Douglas knocked at Dr. 
 Berkeley's door. "Here I am, Doctor ! Pizarro 
 says you sent for me. What an ideal office you 
 have here !" 
 
 "Walk in ! You see Dorothea and James 
 have driven me from my office in the yard, and 
 Mary had to take me in with my bottles. The 
 trouble here is I can't keep Dorothea out of my 
 sanctum. She insists on mixing Carminative 
 for the babies, and makes bread-pills on the 
 marble table. She has applied for the position 
 of medical assistant. She always has a patient, 
 somebody who must take nourishment every 
 two hours, or a cut finger to dress for some little 
 darkey." 
 
 "Dorothea is a dear," said Douglas. "I 
 envy her privileges. I am sure she is never un 
 welcome. She is an angel in the house." 
 
 "But you see," laughed the Doctor, "the 
 angel learns too much about the house. I can't 
 for the life of me keep a secret from her. About 
 a year ago I don't think she knows much
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 123 
 
 better now the Bishop called when we were 
 out on a drive, and she was afraid he would 
 leave before our return. She begged him to 
 stay, and offered him an inducement : * If you'll 
 wait, I'll show you Mrs. Black's tumour !" 
 
 "The darling child ! I'm devoted to her." 
 
 "I advise you to restrain your feelings in the 
 Colonel's presence. He has prior claims, and 
 might give you trouble." 
 
 The Doctor had been walking about as he 
 talked, taking down and replacing, one after 
 another, books from the shelves. 
 
 "But I must not keep you," he said, pausing. 
 " I sent for you because I want to give you some 
 powders and caution you a bit. You already 
 have traces of malaria in your system, and we 
 must clear it out before the chill-and-fever 
 
 season.' 1 
 
 "I am perfectly well, Doctor!" 
 
 'You think so, but you are not. Now I want 
 you to take these powders three times a day for 
 two or three weeks. Keep out of the night air 
 while you are taking them. Miss Anne must 
 do without serenades for a short time," he 
 added, smiling. 
 
 "She will not miss them," said Douglas. 
 "She has never had them."
 
 124 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Well," said the Doctor, "symptoms are 
 against you ; almost as clearly exhibited as 
 your malaria !" 
 
 "I never serenaded Miss Page," said Douglas, 
 gravely; "she knows I never did." 
 
 He walked to the mantel, picked up a bit of 
 mineral ore and examined it with critical interest. 
 Turning with a sudden impulse, he said with 
 emotion : "There is but one woman in all the 
 world for me ! My song last night was for her ! 
 Whether she accepts it or not, my life is sacredly 
 vowed to Shirley." 
 
 Accustomed as he had become to the Doctor's 
 sure sympathy in all that concerned himself, 
 he unconsciously looked for it now. To his 
 surprise, the Doctor seemed strangely agitated. 
 He walked to the window and stood long before 
 he could command himself. 
 
 "Have you spoken to Shirley?" he asked 
 at last, in a low, strained voice. 
 
 " Never ! Only last night under her window ! " 
 
 "My boy," said the Doctor, "I suppose I 
 might have expected this. But I didn't. In 
 all kindness, but in all truth, I must tell you I 
 can never consent to give my girl to you 
 never, never ! There is an insuperable obstacle 
 to your union which can never be evaded or
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 125 
 
 overcome. No, no, listen to me ! I know of 
 nothing to your personal disadvantage. I con 
 sider myself comparatively a poor man. I 
 believe you to be, on the contrary, able to live 
 in great ease and opulence. Your estate is the 
 finest in the county but," he paused and 
 added sternly and with emphasis, "the mistress 
 of that home my daughter can never be. I for 
 bid you to ask it of her ! The reason I can never 
 tell you." 
 
 The young man looked at his old friend darkly, 
 and with resentful surprise. His face was set 
 and hard. "And what if I refuse as I do 
 refuse to obey you without reason ! Am I 
 to stand and submit quietly to a stab in the 
 dark?" 
 
 The Doctor's anguish was distressing. " Doug 
 las, my boy - ' he almost sobbed, " I know 
 it is hard ! I beseech you then ! I entreat you 
 - have patience ! Promise me only this much, 
 that you will not reveal yourself to Shirley by 
 look, word, or deed for one year, only one year ! 
 At the end of that time no, I cannot even 
 then consent but at least I will tell you the 
 reason. Is this too much to ask ? My girl 
 God help her is but seventeen." 
 
 "It is much," said Douglas, "but I promise !
 
 126 
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 I can wait. " And turning to the door, he affected 
 to ignore the Doctor's proffered hand and ap 
 peared no more until the party was taking leave. 
 
 On the veranda, all was bustle and compli 
 ment and promise of return. There were hearts 
 among the laughing little company that ached 
 at parting. Douglas passed through a rear door 
 to the garden to steady his nerves. There he 
 found Andy and questioned him about the re 
 turn of the letter to its owner. He then paused 
 for a last look at the lovely garden before re- 
 entering the house. Dorothea, according to her 
 custom, had also visited Andy for her morning 
 flowers, arriving just as Douglas was about to 
 leave. Taking her little basket from her arm, 
 he asked her permission to escort her to the 
 house. She looked so sad that he said gently, 
 "I really believe, Dolly, you are sorry to lose me." 
 The child's lip quivered. "I am," she said, 
 "and Shirley is dref'fly sorry about something. 
 She cried last night. Her pillow was all wet 
 this morning." 
 
 "Where is she now, Dolly ?" 
 
 "She came down the garden with me, and 
 when she saw you, she went and hid behind the 
 big crepe myrtle. I reckon her eyes are red." 
 
 "Run in, Dolly darling, I'll follow. Here!
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 127 
 
 Here is the peach-stone basket I promised to 
 cut for you. Run in the house and show it to 
 your mother." 
 
 But his second thought checked the ardent 
 impulse. His promise ! And why should he 
 suppose she cared ? "She has treated me with 
 polite indifference all the time," he thought. 
 "Why should I imagine her tears were for me ? 
 How do I know she ever heard me ? It seems 
 she hid from me, and I shall certainly not in 
 trude upon her." 
 
 Taking Dorothea's basket again, he accom 
 panied her to the house. 
 
 Shirley sped to her room, bathed her eyes, 
 put a rose in her hair, and was the gayest of the 
 gay all morning. When the hour of departure 
 came, there were many regrets, jests, promises 
 of return, and protestations that never had there 
 been such a delightful house-party. 
 
 Everybody was talking, laughing, and jesting 
 when the gardener appeared. "Ah," said Mr. 
 Blake, "it wanted but this ! Here comes our 
 friend Andy, doubtless with a flower for each of 
 
 us.' : 
 
 The gardener looked at him sourly and ten 
 dered the letter. "I'm thinkin', sir, you lost 
 this," he said.
 
 128 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Blake took the rose-coloured missive, crushed 
 it in his hand, and said hotly, "And I'm thinking, 
 fellow, that you've taken your own time in 
 returning it." Recovering himself, however, 
 as he saw curious glances around the company, 
 he said lightly, "It's of no consequence, how 
 
 ever." 
 
 "That was mine ain opeenion when I read it," 
 said Angus, "but Mr. Douglas here has mair 
 wisdom in sic things, and he said you'd be sair 
 to lose it." 
 
 "By George !" exclaimed Blake, "two readers 
 to sit in judgment upon my affairs ! Where 
 was the address ?" 
 
 "I beg pardon, Blake," said Douglas, calmly. 
 "Angus naturally gave the letter to the first one 
 of us he met, who happened to be myself. I 
 did not observe the address on the back until 
 I saw the signature. I told him to restore it 
 to you, but he has had no opportunity, I 
 presume." 
 
 "All right," said Blake, swallowing his chagrin 
 and anger, and tendering a piece of silver to the 
 gardener. 
 
 "Na, na," said Angus, with a bow of mock 
 humility. "Pit oop your siller! Keep it to 
 win its way some ither gate ! Angus McGilli-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 129 
 
 cuddy will nane of it," and he strode off to his 
 barrow outside the enclosure. The situation 
 was rather embarrassing, but Tom Blackwell 
 immediately relieved it by seizing upon Dorothea 
 as she appeared on the scene with the Colonel. 
 
 "I think, Dolly," said he, "that as you were 
 so hard on me at breakfast the other morning 
 you might give me a good-bye kiss." 
 
 The child smiled, but shook her head. 
 
 "Very proper, Your Grace," said the Colonel. 
 "Duchesses never kiss their subjects. Only 
 their Cousin Jameses !" 
 
 "That is what I told Mr. Blake," said Doro 
 thea. 
 
 "You see, Blake," said Tom, "you have your 
 limitations - - you can sing a good song, but you 
 can't come to people's houses and claim priv 
 ileges denied old friends and correspondents." 
 
 Mr. Blake's visit to Newton Hall had not been 
 followed by invitations to other country houses, 
 and he took final leave, announcing his departure 
 for the next day. He expected, he said, to go 
 abroad. 
 
 "Shall we not see you again, Douglas, before 
 we leave for the Springs ?" said Mrs. Berkeley. 
 
 "I fear not. Mrs. Page has kindly invited 
 me for next week, and I believe Miss Anne will
 
 130 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 permit me to accept," he answered, smiling at 
 the mocking expression on the face of the little 
 lady. 
 
 "Oh, I'll share my bread and salt with him ! 
 That involves nothing, I believe, except that 
 I must hide my dagger under my caftan while 
 he is in my tent. Afterwards ? Well, that 
 depends." 
 
 All this sounded intimate and significant, and 
 was interpreted by Shirley as evidence of a 
 perfect understanding between the two. 
 
 "By the bye," asked Mrs. Berkeley, "what 
 do you hear from Harry ?" 
 
 "Oh, Harry is * conditioned,' you know. He 
 was a little too miserable to live last winter 
 low down despairing. He consoled himself 
 with a large dose of Calithump 'Calithump' ? 
 I thought everybody knew the meaning of that 
 noble word. It means general insubordination, 
 infernal noises at night bands of musicians 
 with horns, bells, chains, drums, tin-pans. Harry 
 and I agreed that he must study at the University 
 all summer if he expected Mr. Minor to give 
 him his degree next year." 
 
 "I wonder if that will cure him," remarked 
 Anne, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Probably not," said Douglas. "I'll bring
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 131 
 
 him home next Christmas and discipline him 
 here. He has a complication of infirmities. 
 His case is similar to the immortal Duncan's 
 in some respects." 
 
 So, jesting and laughing, they took their 
 places in the old-fashioned coach belonging to 
 the Newton s that had brought them, protesting 
 that never in the past had there been, never in 
 the future could there be, so utterly delightful 
 a visit anywhere to anybody. Mr. Blake was 
 accommodated with a buggy to himself. 
 
 The coach held four inside, and two on the 
 box. Douglas claimed the driver's seat behind 
 his own four bays, now dancing with impatience 
 to be off. As he clambered up to his place the 
 Colonel called to him. 
 
 "Be careful of your leaders, Newton. I see 
 you have Castor and Pollux. Miss Anne says 
 she wishes you'd let Uncle Edinboro' drive. 
 She's afraid to trust you." 
 
 " She doesn't mean it ! She has told me 
 another story ! As a matter of fact, I have 
 promised her this seat beside me, and a lesson 
 in driving four-in-hand. Uncle Edinboro' has 
 my horse, and will open the gates," which asser 
 tion was immediately verified by the young lady 
 who climbed with alacrity into the vacant seat,
 
 132 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Tom Blackwell, to his great content, making a 
 fourth inside. Poor Shirley felt that no more 
 was needed ! "Understanding" indeed ! Every 
 thing was settled between them ! As she turned 
 to reenter the house she pleaded weariness, 
 headache., and begged for quiet possession of her 
 own room. Dorothea, on her way to rehabilitate 
 her room in the office, saw a white arm thrust 
 out of the window, and the shutters closely drawn 
 in. 
 
 Mr. Blake, despite his monumental self- 
 esteem, was aware of a sudden chill in the at 
 mosphere and accepted Mrs. Carrington's in 
 vitation for the night, sending his valet on to 
 Beechwood for his luggage. He was invited to 
 no other house, and left next day. He had not 
 been altogether trusted by the young men of 
 the party at Berkeley Castle. They challenged 
 their own feelings, suspicious lest sectional 
 prejudice unworthy in entertaining a guest 
 might have warped their judgment. Indeed, 
 judgment is rarely the controlling power in our 
 society likes and dislikes. The argument against 
 liking Doctor Fell is the only one we acknowledge 
 or can invent. 
 
 Blake was indifferent as far as he was con 
 cerned. He considered the loss theirs, not his
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 133 
 
 own. He was going to New York to prepare, 
 not for sailing, but for spending the season at 
 the White Sulphur Springs a recently formed 
 plan which he kept to himself. He was delighted 
 to discover that he was really almost in love ! 
 There was something stimulating, fascinating, 
 in the bare idea. He could not remember ever 
 having been truly, really, in love. As to any 
 result why, that might be determined later. 
 For perfect enjoyment of a watering-place 
 season, nothing could be better than to be al 
 most in love with a beautiful distingue Virginia 
 woman so fresh, so unlike anything he had 
 hitherto known. Apparently he had no rivals. 
 That was unfortunate. Rivals would give 
 additional zest to the situation. They would 
 certainly appear at the Springs, and he would 
 give them a lesson ! Those proud South Caro 
 linians, the confident, self-esteeming Virgin 
 ians ! At all events, rival or no rival, he was 
 almost in love ! His heart was not as burnt-out 
 a cinder as he had supposed.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 DOUGLAS conducted Mrs. Carrington and her 
 guests to her own door, and, declining her en 
 treaty to remain to dinner, turned the coach 
 over to Edinboro', mounted his own spirited 
 Saladin, and galloped back to Beechwood. He 
 longed for a quiet place to think over the ter 
 rible thing that had come to him. 
 
 "Don't disturb me to-night, Uncle Caleb, 
 for anybody," he said, as he dismounted, to 
 the old servant who was a sort of butler emeritus, 
 having become too old for his earlier position 
 of coachman. " If any of the boys drop in, give 
 them the best you have, and tell them I've gone 
 to bed with a headache." 
 
 "All right, Marse Douglas ! Dilsey expected 
 you an' biled one of the four-year-old hams 
 to-day." 
 
 "Send me a slice with a biscuit and a cup of 
 coffee to the library. No, no ! No wine to 
 night ! Here, Sandy, open the shutters and 
 help me off with my boots. Mind well, Caleb, 
 nobody not if the Angel Gabriel calls." 
 
 134
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 135 
 
 "The angel Gabr'el wouldn' sen' no message 
 by Caleb, Marse Douglas," said the old man, 
 solemnly. "Ef'n de time done come fo' him to 
 call, he can take keer uv his own business. Jes' 
 let 'im blow he horn once, an' you'll be boun' 
 to foller. 'Twon' be for many long years to 
 come, I hope, suh." 
 
 "I don't hope for long years," said Douglas; 
 "the sooner they end the better for me." 
 
 "Sh-sh, fo' de Lawd's sake, Marse Douglas ! 
 Don' talk dat-er-way ! Caesar lay on his back 
 at de kitchen do' all las' night howlin' an' now 
 here you come, suh, talkin' wild and ongawdly." 
 
 In the darkness, on the leather-covered chair 
 in his study, Douglas smoked pipeful after 
 pipeful of strong Virginia tobacco, and agonized 
 over the strange news of the morning. It was 
 not from personal reasons, the Doctor had said. 
 There was nothing against him personally. His 
 father, then perhaps his grandfather ! Was 
 there a black drop in the proud Newton blood 
 an ineffaceable taint ? Had there been a 
 hidden crime, a thrust in the dark, unrepented, 
 unavenged ? He strained his memory in vain 
 endeavour to recall some mysterious hint dropped 
 in his childhood ears which might afford some 
 starting-point for investigation.
 
 136 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 The room was small, and in his father's time 
 had been known as the "study." Later, a few 
 sparsely filled book-shelves had been added, 
 and it was rechristened "the library." Evi 
 dently his father had not been much addicted 
 to literature. Some of those old books who 
 could tell ? might give him the clue he coveted. 
 From the shelves, his glance rested on the two 
 portraits above them. His dear mother in a 
 thin, scant robe with a thick curl resting on her 
 sweet, bare bosom; his father a handsome 
 face above his soft neck-cloth and ruffled shirt- 
 front. Sully had painted them, and had caught 
 or created an expression in his father's eyes of 
 reproachful brooding. So, at least, Douglas 
 now imagined. His father had died when he was 
 a small child, his mother ten years later. A 
 sad woman yes a woman of frequent tears, 
 but was she not a widow ? That was explana 
 tion enough. Then an aunt, her maiden sister, 
 had come to mother the two boys. She, too, 
 was dead. He had been sent out of the county 
 to school he and Harry, and knew none of 
 the neighbours intimately except the Berkeleys. 
 Perhaps eighty-year-old Aunt Winny might 
 know something, but the negro was too emotional, 
 too superstitious, to be consulted on vital matters.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 137 
 
 There was Mrs. Ponsonby, but she was a grande 
 dame, and Douglas shrank from approaching 
 her. Why, this was monstrous this idea of 
 going among one's neighbours on such quest ! 
 "Do you know what is against me what 
 taint in my blood, what blot on my escutcheon ?" 
 
 At the intolerable suggestion, he sprang from 
 his chair and went out in the garden. There 
 was the interlacing of white gravelled walks, 
 dark clumps of shrubbery, long stretch of hedge 
 and the outside trees. There, too, on the little 
 hill beyond was the gleam of marble among the 
 cedars. No he could not bear to visit the 
 spot to-night ! There lay his sweet mother, his 
 honoured father ; the father who had so honoured 
 him, leaving him, his eldest son, the homestead, 
 and to Harry the smaller farm at Cross Roads. 
 The witnesses to the will might they not be 
 able to enlighten him ? There were three not 
 one of the three living. The old county clerk 
 was dead. The will had been drawn by Joseph 
 Watkins. Ah ! Judge Watkins was living ! 
 
 Douglas rapidly retraced his steps. It was 
 now late, and the servants had left the house for 
 their own quarters outside. He saw old Caleb, 
 peacefully smoking a pipe with his wife outside 
 their door and called to him. "How soon must
 
 138 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 I leave here, Uncle Caleb, to reach Judge Wat- 
 kins's house to breakfast?" 
 
 The old man considered "Fifteen mile an' 
 a ferry to cross. Saladin would take you easy 
 in two hours, but the ferryman won't be up ! 
 Br'er Sam is gitten sorter ole an' - 
 
 " Ah ! Never mind Br'er Sam and the ferry ! 
 There's such a thing as swimming and the 
 boys' canoe might be tied to the bank. Have 
 Saladin at the gate an hour before day. I'll 
 not need Sandy." 
 
 "Sandy is gwine along!" said Caleb, stub 
 bornly, with the freedom of an old family ser 
 vant. "Who gwine blanket Saladin and walk 
 'im about to cool off arter you done gallop 'im 
 fifteen mile ? You kin brek yo' own neck ef you 
 want to, but I sholy is gwine take keer o' 
 Saladin." 
 
 "Oh, well," said Douglas, wearily, as he 
 turned away, "have your own way. Probably 
 you're right. I am not fit even to take care of 
 Saladin. Only don't let Sandy be a minute late." 
 
 " Tain't no use fer you to try to manage Marse 
 Douglas, Caleb," old Dilsey advised between 
 the puffs of her pipe. 
 
 "Manage ! He's too masterful fer me ! I 
 wish fo' Gawd he'd git a wife to manage him."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 139 
 
 "Marse Douglas ain't no ways onreasonable 
 ef you take 'im right." 
 
 "Dar 'tis ! You got to be as keerful as ef he 
 was a year-old colt. He'll play 'roun' as sweet 
 as a kitten, but jus' you try to bridle 'im, an' 
 you'll see 'im rar and tar an' paw up de groun' ! 
 When I see 'im carry on dat-er-way, I dasn't 
 projeck wid 'im. I jus' stan' off an' giv 'im he 
 haid an' let 'im run hese'f down." 
 
 Caleb smoked with a spirit too perturbed for 
 enjoyment of his prized evening luxury. 
 
 "What he gwine fo' day to see de Judge 
 about?" The old fellow shook his grey head 
 with a troubled look. "Sump'n nurrer's up, 
 Dilsey," the old man confided. "Mark my 
 words. Dere's a weddin' brewin'." 
 
 "How 'bout Caesar howlin' las' night ? Dog 
 don' howl cep'n for death an' fune'al." 
 
 "Well, ain' a weddin' next do' to a fune'al ? 
 Fust, rejicin' den moanin'. Fust, pipin' an' 
 dancin', den lamentin'. A time fo' wuk an' 
 a time fo' res' an' nothin' new under de sun an' 
 all is vexation an' vanity o' sperit. Selah !" 
 
 In the face of such superior sanctity and learn 
 ing, the old wife found nothing to say. Having 
 smoked their pipes silently and shaken out the 
 ashes of departed joys, they betook themselves 
 to rest.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 JUDGE WATKINS, an alert, keen-eyed gentle 
 man with traces of snuff on his otherwise spot 
 less shirt-front, walked out to the gate to meet 
 his young guest with many expressions of hearty 
 welcome. The Judge was an attractive figure. 
 Like John Randolph of Roanoke, he wore his 
 grey hair combed back from his forehead and 
 tied en queue, with a narrow black ribbon. 
 Men in that day were classed as "old men" at 
 fifty and few lived beyond that age. 
 
 "Mrs. Watkins will be delighted to see you," 
 he said cordially. "We happen to be alone. 
 Our young people are off on a round of visits. 
 Down, Hero ! Down, sir ! The pointer remem 
 bers you, you see! Ah, Saladin !" patting the 
 horse's shoulder. "Don't feed him for an hour, 
 Sandy ! Come in, come in ! You knew the way 
 to the bowl and towels on the back porch when 
 you and my Joe were boys. Joe has gotten 
 ahead of you married and a fine boy. Hurry 
 up, and while you get rid of the dust, I'll make 
 you a mint julep. Breakfast is just coming in." 
 
 140
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 141 
 
 Douglas had perceived, before entering the 
 house, the delicious odours from the kitchen 
 boiling coffee, browning biscuits, and an appe 
 tizing hint of some salt relish. His young 
 appetite responded with a bound of anticipation. 
 
 If anybody in all the world deserved the one 
 perfect word "dear," that body was Mrs. 
 Watkins. Fifty years of sweet, pure living, 
 of tender affections, of reverent piety, had written 
 her story on her face, and added a charm un 
 known to her girlhood beauty. Beneath the 
 thin ruffle of her Martha Washington cap, and 
 soft bands of silver hair, eyes looked love and 
 benevolence upon all around her. She was full 
 of kind inquiry. Why had not Douglas come 
 before ? Where was Harry ? Did Harry look 
 like his mother ? 
 
 "Now, before Daphne snares you with her 
 waffles, Douglas," said the Judge, "take a hard 
 biscuit and a bit of this North Carolina roe 
 herring. Nothing like it for an appetizer. 
 Ah ! here comes the Madame's coffee ! " 
 
 The old Virginia coffee was renowned. No 
 body has such coffee in these degenerate days. 
 The Mocha or old government Java was roasted 
 by being stirred with a hickory stick in an open 
 oven, over clear coals, until every berry was
 
 142 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 cooked crisp and brown and brittle to the core. 
 It was then, in order to retain the aroma and 
 insure clearness, glazed while hot with the 
 white of an egg ; and ground on the moment it 
 was needed ! The coffee-pot, always religiously 
 scrubbed, was left open all day to be sweetened 
 by the hot sunshine. The coffee was suffered 
 to boil up once, and served immediately with 
 sweet cream and "sugar to taste." Five min 
 utes' soaking on its grounds was deemed enough 
 to ruin the finest Mocha. And to ruin it was a 
 sin, and not a venial sin either ! 
 
 After breakfast the Judge offered a pipe to 
 his guest on the veranda, but Douglas declined 
 to smoke, and said, with restrained emotion, 
 "I come on private business, Judge! May we 
 not have our talk in the office ?" 
 
 " You know I don't practise, my boy ! " said 
 the Judge, as he led the way to a small build 
 ing in the yard. " I am about to hold my 
 summer term at the courthouse. Here is my 
 study. Take a seat ! No one will interrupt 
 
 us." 
 
 Douglas proceeded as best he could to inform 
 the Judge, telling his story without betraying 
 himself in the matter closest to his heart. He 
 implored him to be frank, to ignore any pain that
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 143 
 
 might result from a full disclosure of the truth. 
 What was the stigma attaching to his home and 
 following him and his brother ? 
 
 " I see you know what I mean you under 
 stand ! I can bear anything ! Tell me all. 
 What is the curse that follows me ? Was there 
 murder, forgery, dishonour ?" 
 
 The poor Judge was distressed. "I shall 
 surely be honest with you, my boy. There was 
 no murder, no forgery, no man's fireside violated. 
 Dishonour ? I leave you to judge. Certainly 
 there was no legal dishonour. When I was a 
 young lawyer here, your father lived at the Cross 
 Roads. You and your brother were not yet 
 born. Your father was reckoned a well-to-do 
 man, careful, shrewd; had inherited money 
 rather than land, and lent this money on terms 
 deemed liberal for the times I mean liberal 
 to himself! His friend and college mate, Robert 
 Benson, had inherited the fine estate of Beech- 
 wood; had little money, was a careless farmer, 
 wild, extravagant, kept fine horses and costly 
 wines, was foolishly kind-hearted. He lived 
 freely, was security for anybody that asked it, 
 ready to go on any man's bond ; lost at horse- 
 racing ; lost at cards ; and finally he was in 
 a tight place, and borrowed from your father.
 
 144 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Mr. Newton hesitated when the loan was re 
 quested, and Benson voluntarily gave him a 
 mortgage on Beechwood. Your father almost 
 immediately foreclosed the mortgage and the 
 estate was offered at public sale. The times 
 were hard, money tight, and everybody poor, 
 crops had not been harvested, and your father 
 was the only bidder. The estate was knocked 
 down to him for five thousand dollars. It was 
 worth even then Fifty Thousand ! There was 
 a great deal of indignation expressed throughout 
 the community. Men believed that the acqui 
 sition of the property had been from the first 
 the incentive to previous small loans. Your 
 father was practically ostracized, and I have 
 reason to believe his death, occurring five years 
 later, may have been hastened by his chagrin." 
 "Did he never offer restitution ?" 
 "None that I know of. He moved at once 
 over to Beechwood. From the sale of farm 
 utensils, household effects, etc., Benson realized 
 a sum with which he bought a small place not 
 far from Berkeley Castle. I have learned that 
 his whole life was completely changed. He is 
 said to be extremely sour and morose, living 
 to himself, unapproachable and unapproached. 
 No children except one daughter, lately married,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 145 
 
 I understand, to one Wilson. I don't know 
 which family of Wilsons." 
 
 Douglas sat with his head bowed upon his 
 bosom. Beads of perspiration gathered on his 
 knit brows, and his mouth was set and hard. 
 He sat thus so long that the Judge was at a loss 
 to divine the trend of his thoughts. The poor 
 Judge felt keen sympathy for the handsome 
 bowed head. "What was the amount of Mr. 
 Benson's indebtedness to my father ?" he asked, 
 without changing his position or raising his eyes. 
 
 "Papers were drawn up in a final settlement 
 which you will find in the clerk's office. The 
 amount due was something over five thou 
 sand dollars, and the difference waived by your 
 father. The transaction was strictly legal, 
 nobody questioned that, but the sentiment of 
 the community was decided. No time and little 
 notice had been given Benson to raise the 
 money. It was denounced in the sternest 
 terms and his creditor's action was freely 
 branded as 'infamous.' The hints to that 
 effect which you have received are the dying 
 ripples let us hope of a great wave of 
 indignation." 
 
 " Which was fully justified!" said Douglas, as 
 he rose and with nervous hands grasped the
 
 146 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 back of his chair. "You said you no longer 
 practised law but you will, I trust, draw up a 
 paper for me." 
 
 "Certainly with pleasure." 
 
 "Then," said Douglas, with his fine face 
 uplifted, " I no longer own Beechwood ! I give 
 it back to Mr. Benson." 
 
 The Judge started from his seat. "My dear 
 sir ! Think well before you do so irreparable a 
 thing ! You will surely regret it ! Beechwood 
 is the finest estate in the county. When I last 
 saw it, it seemed to me the fields just smiled up 
 to the Creator. The house is one of the best, 
 most substantial in Virginia. Your manager 
 has been judicious, I learn. You have lived 
 freely, travelled, and yet saved something. 
 Your future is bright. There is talk already of 
 sending you to Congress in Jack Randolph's 
 place." 
 
 "All this I know," Douglas replied, "all 
 this and more. But I cannot be moved. To 
 morrow Wingfield will commence removing my 
 stock and furniture to Harry's place at Cross 
 Roads, and as soon as your paper is ready, I 
 will sign it, and thank you to see it is delivered to 
 Mr. Benson. It is not necessary I should see 
 him?"
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 147 
 
 "Not at all ! The paper a brief one will 
 need only your signature." 
 
 "Then why not write it now ? You will do 
 me a great favour. The day is young. You will 
 soon be occupied with your judicial duties. 
 You see, dear Judge, I shall hope to keep the 
 matter between ourselves until I give posses 
 sion, and I must rely upon your confidential 
 friendship." 
 
 " Surely, my boy, and as a friend, I feel it my 
 duty to warn you of consequences before you 
 do this thing. You must remember every 
 embarrassment and complication. The world 
 may applaud you as magnificent, with a roman 
 tic sense of honour, but it is just as likely to 
 esteem you quixotic, eccentric, foolish. If the 
 latter opinion prevails, good-bye to political 
 preferment or legal success. It takes the genius 
 of a John Randolph to make men excuse eccen 
 tric behaviour." 
 
 Douglas listened long and respectfully to 
 more in this strain, but calmly persisted in 
 requesting the Judge to prepare a transfer in 
 fee simple of the plantation of Beechwood and 
 all the buildings thereon, reserving only the 
 enclosure on the hill already tenanted by the 
 graves of his parents. Upon this the Judge's
 
 i 4 8 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 manner totally changed. Springing like a boy 
 from his chair, he embraced the young man, 
 dashed his hand across his eyes, and together 
 they proceeded to the details of the transfer. 
 Punctilious as he had learned to be in keeping 
 the secrets of his clients, he could not, after 
 Douglas left, resist the temptation to confide 
 to his tearful wife an account of the unique 
 transaction,- "the finest thing," he declared, 
 "I have ever known in my profession. Noth 
 ing nobler will ever be recorded in the books. 
 The boy did not hesitate an instant ! No 
 painstaking search to find the path of duty ! 
 No reading his Bible and saying his prayers 
 over it ! He made me feel that I wronged him 
 by even a suggestion of any other course." 
 
 "Home, Saladin !" said Douglas, as he vaulted 
 into the saddle and felt his first pang " Home I " 
 
 He arrived late in the evening having fa 
 voured the horses by a long rest during the heat 
 of the day, beside a stream in the woods and 
 was again in the little library with his slight 
 supper which he left untasted. He felt no need 
 of sleep. Dismissing his valet and sending old 
 Caleb grumbling home to his own cabin, he 
 folded his arms and leaned back in the armchair 
 in which he had stolen so many a nap when a
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 149 
 
 tired boy. Candles burned in branched silver 
 candelabra. A little silver tray with " snuffers" 
 lay beside them, and on the table were writing 
 materials. 
 
 He had a letter to write. Harry must be 
 fully informed of everything, and the reasons 
 that forced his brother's action. All this 
 he told concisely but fully, and then paused 
 to think in what words he might best com 
 fort the boy. As he raised his eyes, they 
 were met by the dark eyes of the portrait, 
 and to Douglas's excited imagination the 
 eyes wore a new expression. He looked at 
 them, wondering he had not before observed 
 their depth, and then turned to his open let 
 ter. "And now, Hal," he wrote, "I fancy 
 I feel your hearty slap on my shoulder and 
 hear you say, * Bully for you, brother ! It 
 is all right ! You have done nobly. You have 
 righted a great wrong.' But remember, Harry, 
 I must never be commended. Praise of me 
 implies censure of our father. It is not for us to 
 judge him. He is not here to vindicate himself. 
 Nobody knows all the truth. He may have had 
 reasons of which we know nothing. We must 
 allow no one to discuss the matter with us. We 
 stand alone in the world, you and I, and what-
 
 ISO THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 ever is won from that world must be of our own 
 winning, at its own value and not because of our 
 misfortune not by contrast with our father ! 
 Whatever the world may have thought of him, 
 to us he must be always our honoured father. 
 Our mother loved him! And he died so young. 
 Had he lived, he might have done just what I 
 have been moved to do." 
 
 Douglas, like the sons of Noah, walked back 
 ward that he might not see although he knew 
 his father's shame. 
 
 The lights soon attracted the nocturnal beetles 
 of the South, so he extinguished them and sat 
 in darkness until the beams of the late rising 
 moon flooded the room. The elation which 
 always accompanies the conception of a high 
 thought and consequent performance of a noble 
 action had not yet subsided. The "soul's 
 star" was still in the ascendant ! It had not 
 gone down and abandoned the finite mortal to 
 the powers of darkness to fear, doubt, sense 
 of defeat, helpless loneliness. 
 
 He fully vindicated Dr. Berkeley. Shirley 
 pure, peerless could never have come to be 
 mistress in these halls won by fraud. He had 
 lost her ; but of that he would not now think. 
 He could set up her altar in his heart if not his
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 151 
 
 home, and dedicate to her all that was best in 
 his life. 
 
 But as the night wore on, the soul's star moved 
 to its setting. Thoughts of damaged reputation, 
 of lost prestige, of failure surged over him. He 
 could dimly see the portrait of his father as it 
 looked down upon him over the book-shelves. 
 "Oh, my father!" he cried out in anguish, 
 "how could you ?" The moon passed from 
 behind a little cloud as he spoke, and by the 
 wavering light, he fancied a smile on the closed 
 lips. The eyes were deep and sad, but surely 
 the lips smiled. Lest it should have been the 
 dazzle, the glamour that comes in overwearied 
 eyes, he closed his own for a moment ! When 
 he opened them there was the smile again ! 
 
 He clasped his hands behind his neck and 
 leaned far back in his chair, fascinated by the 
 new expression of his father's portrait. "Ah !" 
 he sighed, " I understand ! I know it now ! 
 Thank God ! It is because there has been atone 
 ment, restitution !" 
 
 The moon and stars sank to their setting, and 
 the room grew chill and dark. As he fixed his 
 eyes upon the portraits, they seemed to slip from 
 their frames and descend to the floor. He felt 
 the touch of his father's hand upon his head,
 
 152 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 his mother's sweet lips on his cheek. "Until 
 the day dawn and the shadows flee away," she 
 murmured. Whispers of love, gratitude, hope, 
 filled his ears. Then through the open windows 
 a slight figure floated in and laid her head on 
 his breast. Shirley ! Shirley ! What does she 
 whisper ? " ' Till a' the seas gang dry, my love " 
 and as he tries to clasp her to his heart he wakes, 
 and it is good old Caleb at the window, looking 
 in with pity and much reproach. 
 
 But he has had his dream ! The day had 
 dawned the shadows fled away. Now for 
 his faithful overseer Wingfield, and the begin 
 ning of the flight from Beechwood.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 i . 
 
 TRAVELLERS in the forties to the wonderful 
 Virginia springs had none of the blessings that 
 now ameliorate the discomfort of the long jour 
 ney in the extreme heat of midsummer. George 
 Pullman, the traveller's greatest benefactor, had 
 not yet been born. The passenger must sit 
 bolt upright night and day, and take all the 
 dust and smoke that were his portion. 
 
 When he first discerned the dim outline of 
 the Blue Ridge Mountains, bounding the vast, 
 sun-baked plains, he felt that his trials were at 
 an end. Tell me not of the salt breeze that 
 sweeps the desolate sea ! The breeze from the 
 mountain top seems to come direct from heaven 
 itself pure, cool, and fragrant. 
 
 And then when the noble range of the Blue 
 Ridge Mountains is passed, and the fertile rolling 
 country beyond, the railroad winds in and out 
 among the foot-hills of the Alleghanies, and 
 finally, ascending always, through the moun 
 tains themselves. Every turn in the road 
 which then passed over the path of Spotswood's 
 
 153
 
 154 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Knights of the Golden Horseshoe reveals an 
 enchanting glimpse of mountains braided in 
 and out together, rapid, sparkling streams, little 
 green valleys ; and humble homes of poverty, 
 where the mysterious drama of life, generation 
 after generation, is enacted in all its stages from 
 the cradle to the grave ; where maidens grow 
 up like the mountain flowers and the sons of God 
 perceive that they are fair, and childhood laughs 
 and plays, and old age dreams. Mrs. Berkeley 
 thought of it all, as she looked out of the small 
 car window, and wished for her husband, who 
 could spare only the month of August for a 
 holiday ; Shirley well, we can only guess at 
 Shirley's thoughts ; Dorothea was tired and 
 missed the Colonel, often recurring in her 
 thoughts to his tall figure as he stood on the 
 platform and waved them good-bye ; Milly 
 thought anxiously about the understudy she had 
 left in her household department, busied herself 
 gathering the shawls and pillows which she had 
 provided for the comfort of her party, and watch 
 fully cared for Dorothea. 
 
 "Take in yo' haid, Miss Dolly. Does you 
 want to go to the White Sulphur Springs with 
 out no haid ? What you lookin' at, anyhow ?" 
 
 "The long line of cars when they go around
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 155 
 
 the hill. They look just like a big caterpillar 
 with a horn on his head poking his nose 
 through a field of daisies." 
 
 " Lawd ! Lawd ! Dat chile ! Nemmine ! 
 You'll git a cinder in yo' eye bimeby, and then 
 we'll hear talkin'." 
 
 At last the labouring engine reached an open 
 plain high above the sea-level, and slowed up, 
 puffing and hissing. 
 
 " White Sul-phurr ! " cried the porter, and 
 immediately our passengers found themselves 
 among friends. 
 
 "Howdy, Mrs. Berkeley; gimme your checks. 
 Doctor comin' bimeby ? Hi ! Sis Milly Thom 
 son ! Is you back here ergin ? This way ! 
 Plenty of room in the stage. We fotch Big Tom 
 along to-day," and into "Big Tom," an enormous 
 omnibus, they were quickly bundled with many 
 passengers, most of whom had long been 
 habitues of the South's most famous watering- 
 place. 
 
 Each passenger seemed delighted as the fa 
 miliar buildings associated with so many happy 
 summers were recognized. "There's the old 
 church there's Virginia Row." "There's our 
 cottage," said Milly. "Lawd ! Don't she look 
 natural? But mighty little!"
 
 156 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 At the door of the hotel there were more wel 
 coming greetings. Mrs. Berkeley shook hands 
 with the maids and porters. The delicate little 
 lady at the news stand, the clerk at the desk, 
 all were old friends. A negro lad, Isaiah, a new 
 acquisition, was detailed to collect her bags and 
 "show her to her cottage" a few yards away. 
 The boy regarded her narrowly and considered, 
 from her appearance, that she was good for at 
 least a quarter of a dollar. Much exercised upon 
 this point, he answered with great politeness her 
 rapid questioning: "Who are in the Colonnade 
 this year ? Who has the first cottage on Vir 
 ginia Row, etc." 
 
 "Lawd, Mistis, I believe you knows more 
 about dis place dan I does." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder ! I have been coming 
 here ever since I was born." 
 
 Isaiah saw his opportunity : " Is you ? Dat 
 mus' 'a* been as much as foteen years ago !" 
 
 Of course no self-respecting silver quarter 
 could lie mute in a lady's pocket after this ! 
 Isaiah felt that his fortune was made. This 
 was simply a retaining fee. Contingent fees, 
 fees for actual service, fees merely compliment 
 ary, stretched out before him like the widening 
 tail of a comet. But Milly, arriving at the
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 157 
 
 moment, waved him away peremptorily. "Run 
 along now about yo' business. Don't hang 
 round this cottage pestering Miss Mary an' the 
 chillens." At that moment another coloured 
 lad appeared with a large bunch of mountain 
 azalea and "the Captain's compliments," an 
 other "quarter" exhibited uncontrollable rest 
 lessness ; the porters who had waited her coming 
 then arrived with the trunks several more 
 quarters, one for each ; until Milly dropped 
 the curtains before the doors, an understood 
 hint that the inmates had retired for rest and 
 repose. 
 
 A big hotel and nearly a hundred cottages 
 have clustered around the spring of sulphur 
 water, which was discovered more than two 
 hundred years ago by white men hunting with 
 the then friendly Shawnee Indians. A beautiful 
 undulating, green valley surrounds the spring, 
 shaded by noble oaks of great age ; with here 
 and there a few magnificent pines, each one high 
 enough, hoary enough to claim kinship with 
 the storied "Lonesome Pine" of the Kentucky 
 author. Around the little cuplike valley the 
 hill rises gently, and the cottages have seated 
 themselves against it, their doors in the rear 
 opening on a level with the ground, and the little
 
 158 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 pillared porticos in front ascended by steps, 
 many or few as the hill rises or falls. When 
 a cottage encountered one of the big trees, the 
 latter was not sacrificed, but the house gathered 
 itself together at its knees, took it into its em 
 brace, treating it with too much respect to per 
 mit it to be boarded around its rough brown 
 coat. 
 
 The big hotel, with arcades reminding one of 
 the cloistered convents of California, stands in 
 the centre of the circle of cottages, its chief 
 attraction a noble ballroom, with a perfect 
 floor polished by the happy feet of many genera 
 tions of dancers. 
 
 On one side of the valley rises the Greenbrier 
 Mountain, and on the other Kate's Mountain, 
 where, according to tradition, one Kate Cald- 
 well hid all one dreadful night from the savages. 
 A little farther west the sun sets behind "The 
 Sleeping Giant." An ambitious row of two- 
 story cottages are still known as the Caldwell 
 cottages. A beautiful member of this South 
 Carolina family, a lady as charming as she 
 was lovely, once complained that she found no 
 pleasant walks around her favourite summer 
 home, nothing but the little round of cottage- 
 paths, or the stony, dusty road beyond. Her
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 159 
 
 admirers were many and potential. Exacting 
 a promise from her that she would remain three 
 days in her own rooms, the crest of a hill was 
 cleared of undergrowth, paths levelled and car 
 peted with pine needles, seats placed between 
 trees, little nooks given romantic names, and 
 the famous "Lover's Walk" presented for her 
 pleasure. 
 
 The resort commenced its life with many 
 primitive peculiarities which still remain. At 
 the time of which this story tells, wealthy 
 Southerners, senators, statesmen, rich planters, 
 presidents, and politicians filled the hotel and 
 cottages, many of them bringing their own 
 horses and servants. There were no bells in 
 the cottages, and when the services of a porter 
 or messenger were wanted, "Oh-h-h, George!" 
 or "Oh-h-h, Ben !" as the case might be would 
 be echoed around the valley, and George and 
 Ben would materialize, sauntering in a leisurely 
 way across the lawn. 
 
 "The White Sulphur," said Charles Dudley 
 Warner, "is the only watering-place remaining 
 in the United States where there is what may 
 be called an * assembly' such as might formerly 
 be seen at Saratoga, or at Ballston Spa in Irving's 
 young days. For the better part of a century
 
 160 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 it has been, as everybody knows, the typical 
 Southern resort, the rendezvous of all that was 
 most characteristic of the South, the meeting- 
 place of its politicians, the haunt of its belles, 
 the arena of gayety, intrigue, and fashion. In 
 the days of its greatest fame it was at once the 
 finest and most aristocratic assembly in the 
 world, for although life there was somewhat in 
 the nature of a picnic, it had its very well-defined 
 and ceremonious code of etiquette." Every 
 body was willing nay, anxious to know 
 everybody else, provided some one well-known 
 person stood sponsor for the stranger as in 
 dicated by evidence of even a slight acquaint 
 ance. 
 
 The young girl was the crowning charm and 
 attraction of the place, and should she be well 
 born, beautiful, and well-dressed, for as one 
 said, "an ill-dressed woman would spoil the 
 finest landscape," - she would be, were she 
 rich or poor, enthroned as "a reigning belle" 
 and rated little short of a goddess. If she were 
 "a sweet girl but not pretty," she could find 
 friends, drink the waters, and perhaps improve ; 
 but if the Fates had been really hard, and given 
 her no personal charm whatever, why --well, 
 she needn't perhaps drown herself in the Green-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 161 
 
 brier River, but " the White Sulphur is no 
 place for her" was decided by the company 
 of knitting and embroidering mamas on the 
 shaded gallery, "a jury for conviction every 
 
 time." 
 
 The season had not really opened when Mrs. 
 Berkeley arrived ; that could not be until 
 General Robertson, coming from Baltimore, 
 and folding a blue silk sash across his ample 
 chest, offered his arm to the prettiest damsel 
 for the first german. The band was on hand, 
 however, and gave delightful morning and after 
 noon concerts in the little temples built for their 
 shelter on the lawn. Romantic and martial 
 music gains immensely from the entourage of 
 mountains. The band discoursed fascinating 
 waltzes in the ballroom every night, but there 
 was more social life and less dancing than would 
 rule as soon as August brought a larger crowd. 
 Girls gathered in clusters to talk over their 
 important matters ; the few young men were 
 shy and reticent, recognizing themselves as the 
 weaker party ; the older people enjoyed the de 
 licious coolness and purity of the atmosphere, 
 and all delighted in the charming drives through 
 the romantic country, returning home at night 
 laden with clematis, wild yellow azalea, crimson
 
 i6z THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 lilies, tiger lilies, and the splendid rhododendron, 
 which reaches in the Virginia mountains great 
 size and beauty. 
 
 Seated in a sheltered corner of the veranda, 
 Mrs. Berkeley availed herself of the presence of 
 an old friend who had preceded her by some days, 
 and learned the name of the strangers as they 
 passed. 
 
 "That," said the old beau, "is Miss Kitty 
 Burns, the belle of Louisville ; here for the first 
 time, however. That handsome old gentleman 
 is General Burns, her father. They grow fine 
 men and women in the blue-grass country. Oh, 
 here comes my girl ! Isn't she lovely ? That's 
 Pearl Eustis, of Charleston. I presented her 
 myself last season at the St. Cecilia. A perfect 
 beauty always dresses in white and wears 
 lilies, real or artificial. I can't stop the pro 
 cession to introduce her now. She and I will 
 call at your cottage. Ah ! Here comes the 
 belle of New Orleans. Miss Esme King, Queen 
 of the Mardi Gras stunning, isn't she ? All 
 three of these girls are going to be great friends 
 with Shirley. That ? a late-comer nobody 
 seems to know much about. We call her the 
 Evening Star. She never appears until night. 
 She's promenading now with a rich cotton man
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 163 
 
 from New York. Her name is really, I don't 
 remember !" 
 
 The old beau looked thoughtfully at the hand 
 some stranger as she passed. "A fine figure 
 of a woman," he commented, "always wears a 
 star in her hair, paste probably, not very 
 brilliant, and black velvet. Very handsome, 
 but I don't know ! Isn't she just a leetle 
 pardon me just a leetle too what you call 
 decollete?" 
 
 Mrs. Berkeley shook her head. "Don't ask 
 me ! I am from the rural districts, you know, 
 and may be just a leetle pardon me just 
 a leetle old-fashioned." j 
 
 "You never can be anything but lovely, 
 Mary," said her old friend, affectionately. 
 "When Charley comes, I mean to introduce him 
 to some rheumatic old maids who'll monopolize 
 him, and you and I will be boy and girl again 
 and have a real good old time." 
 
 "Agreed," laughed Mrs. Berkeley, "but I 
 suspect I shall have to lend you to Shirley, 
 faute de mieux! Her knight doesn't seem to 
 materialize. Evidently she dreams of him." 
 
 "No," said Shirley, slowly, "my knight is 
 not here ! " and rising, she excused herself and 
 walked slowly across the lawn to her cottage.
 
 164 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Your girl is a beauty, Mary patrician to 
 her finger-tips. Give her a good rest before the 
 crowd comes. Does she need the waters ? 
 Pretty bilious region, that low country of yours." 
 
 "She needs something," sighed Mrs. Berkeley. 
 "Dear, dear! Charley must come along and 
 give her a tonic." 
 
 "What did you do with Jim ? I suppose 
 Dorothea is too old for a nurse, eh ? and he's 
 looking for another situation." 
 
 "James will never take another situation. He 
 belongs to Berkeley Castle. I left Aunt Prissy 
 who can never be persuaded that peaches can 
 be brandied or green sweetmeats preserved by 
 anybody else ; and James, like a saint, stayed 
 behind to take care of her, look after the house, 
 keep Andy straight, comfort old Mrs. Ponsonby, 
 gossip with Betty Oliver, and incidentally over 
 look his own plantation affairs. Really I think 
 he preferred it ; he said he did at any rate. 
 He never enjoyed this place. He treasures a 
 funny printed letter Dorothea wrote him year 
 before last from the White Sulphur 'Dear 
 Cousin James, This is the disgustingest place in 
 all this world.' She has changed her opinion, 
 but he adheres to his." 
 
 "Well, we'll have Charley on the first, just a
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 165 
 
 week off now, and I'll report for duty to Shirley. 
 By that time I expect she will be ready to beat 
 me off with sticks. I hear her ! 'No old beaux 
 of Mama's no far-away cousins !' However, 
 she'd do well to be civil. She may need me on 
 the staff of her detective police, or, to put it 
 mildly, her Information Bureau." 
 
 "You might practise on me. The handsome 
 unknown interests me. Who is with her here ? " 
 
 "She is with Mr. and Mrs. Stubbs in Balti 
 more Row. They have quite a romantic his 
 tory. They both began life in a spinning fac 
 tory in North Carolina and worked at the same 
 loom. This is a great country ! That was 
 twelve years ago. He rose rapidly from spools 
 to the raw material. He speculated in cotton, 
 invested wisely, and is a very rich man. You 
 see what he looks like ? Well, his wife is his 
 counterpart, short, thick-set, spherical, but 
 with a good-natured face. There you are ! That 
 is all I know about them. But this place will soon 
 lose its prestige if the sans culottes descend upon 
 us. You may say what you please about the 
 magical sulphur waters; it is really the fine 
 exclusive society to be found here that attracts 
 
 us." 
 
 "And attracts others, too," said Mrs. Berke-
 
 166 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 ley ; " good may result to them and no harm 
 to the old aristocrats." 
 
 "I'm not so sure," said her friend. "When 
 the porcelain jar and the delft pot or was it 
 brass ? went swimming together, you know 
 what happened. Better wait awhile and see 
 how the handsome lady behaves." 
 
 "But you see if everybody was friendly and 
 kind at such places as this, handsome ladies 
 would be surer to behave ; they would have 
 social obligations, restraining influences. How 
 ever," she added, smiling, "it's idle to preach 
 to you, Harry on these subjects at least. 
 I've laboured with you all my life and you don't 
 improve a bit. Where is our beauty's hus 
 band?" 
 
 "Ah, now you're too much for me. There 
 may be 'no sich person.' He may be a myth. 
 She may be a widow." 
 
 "I hope she is not already a widow," said 
 Mrs. Berkeley. 
 
 "Well, you know as much about her as I do 
 or likely shall. Her husband is somewhere 
 in the world, I imagine, otherwise we should 
 have our lady in serge and crepe instead of 
 velvet and brilliants."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DEAR COUSIN JAMES, 
 
 I hope you will receive this letter on the first the day 
 Papa leaves you. You will drive him to the depot in the 
 early morning and then you will walk over to Miss Betty 
 Oliver's, and feeling a little low in your mind, sit on her 
 porch-bench and wait for the Northern mail. Miss Betty 
 will make a perfect cup of coffee for you, I wish I were 
 there to share it, and you will listen with angelic patience 
 to all her wailings and woes, and then you will return to the 
 post-office and get this letter ! I wish I had something 
 very interesting to tell you, but nothing thrilling has 
 happened. 
 
 The dear old mountains are just as blue just as beauti 
 ful as ever. I love the meadow drive because there we get 
 the finest view of the Sleeping Giant. The physician of 
 this place is an old, old darling, Dr. Moorman, with a 
 long white beard. He might be Noah or Moses or some 
 other ancient Patriarch. Mama sends me to him every 
 morning to be "looked over" lest I should be ill (which 
 I'm not), and we have become great cronies. "Aren't there 
 some legends about these mountains ?" I asked him yester 
 day. "Of course," he said; "a fine one, about old Titan 
 
 167
 
 1 68 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 yonder. Come down to the spring with me and drink 
 a glass of water like a good girl and I'll tell you." Under the 
 trees he told me a wonderful story. His father had learned 
 it from an old Indian. The Great Spirit was angry once 
 because a brave warrior fell in love with a pretty Indian 
 maid and spent his time with her in this valley. Two 
 arrows were sent to kill the lovers one reached the 
 heart of the brave, but the other missed the girl and buried 
 itself in the earth. She withdrew it to kill herself, and the 
 Sulphur Spring gushed out. Her lover was buried towards 
 the setting sun, and trees have grown up over him. He is 
 the "Sleeping Giant." She was doomed to haunt this 
 place as long as the spring flows. When it ceases, she may 
 join her lover in the Happy Hunting-grounds and there 
 fore we all come here, year after year, to help exhaust the 
 sulphurous spring. The funny little white flower, Indian 
 Pipe, springs up in her footsteps. I often gather them at 
 Lover's Leap. 
 
 Tell Andy I am going to grow morning-glories and nas 
 turtiums all around the cottage, and I think he might 
 send me a few of his dark-coloured nasturtiums. Here they 
 have only the light yellow variety. We walk down to 
 "Dry Creek" Dorothea and I and get them from 
 the only garden near the place. You remember "Dry 
 Creek" ? The big river that changed its mind and flowed 
 in some other direction has never returned. The poor 
 forsaken stones seem to lie there expecting it.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 169 
 
 But you are not to suppose because I know what is ex 
 pected of a young lady, and write genteelly about legends, 
 morning-glories, nasturtiums, and inconstant rivers that 
 nothing out of the ordinary happens here. We have had 
 great fun over our Dove German, instigated and carried 
 out by our French Countess (oh, yes ! We have a French 
 Countess, only she was born in Kentucky; and we have 
 a Bonaparte too old Mrs. Bonaparte) because we girls 
 numbered some thirty or more, and there were just twelve 
 men, counting the night clerk. There were plenty of 
 things they might have done for entertainment, but they 
 lay about on the grass all day and promenaded the galleries 
 at night never asking the girls to dance, giving no little 
 card parties or suppers. So Madame la Comtesse gave a 
 beautiful morning german and left them all out ! We 
 had the band, champagne and biscuits, and lovely favours. 
 Half the girls personated men in dark gowns and little 
 derby hats. The girls wore their prettiest muslins. The 
 men hung round the windows outside. They were not 
 admitted even as spectators. 
 
 The stages came in while the german was in progress, 
 and two tall girls strangers entered, and Madame 
 courteously invited them to join the dancers. They 
 wore large hats, veils, and light dresses, and danced remark 
 ably well. In the middle of a figure I dropped my hand 
 kerchief and instantly one of the newcomers jumped up 
 and skated across the floor to pick it up ! Tom Burns
 
 170 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 and Larry Thomson had been taken to Mrs. Brown's 
 cottage, laced within an inch of their lives, and dressed in 
 her muslin gowns with white stockings and slippers ! 
 
 Mr. Blake has been here as long as we have ; of 
 course pretending he knew precisely the date of our com 
 ing. He has brought his Napoleonic servant, a groom, 
 trap, and horses. You remember everybody mounts for 
 the afternoon ride or drive in front of the drawing-room, 
 and I was standing there waiting to drive Mama and 
 Dorothea when Mr. Blake appeared, his groom leading 
 two elegant horses dark wine-coloured beauties, larger 
 but not as splendid-looking as Primrose (the darling!). 
 Mr. Blake led them up near me. "Here are the best 
 thoroughbreds Kentucky blue-grass can raise !" he said. 
 "They have never been named. They have waited for 
 you to name them." 
 
 I had an inspiration. "Charge, Chester, charge! On, 
 Stanley, on." 
 
 That evening a bottle of champagne was sent to our table 
 with "the compliments of Chester and Stanley" and 
 Stanley has been placed at my exclusive disposal for the 
 whole season. "Isn't that charming?" you will say 
 but somehow I don't care much about it ; and cannot de 
 cide to accept it anyway until Papa comes. 
 
 I think Dorothea must give you more of her confidences 
 than she gives me. I see her every morning in the writing- 
 room, her face close to her paper and her curls falling down
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 171 
 
 upon it, and from her lofty duchess-like manner I infer she 
 is laying her commands upon you. I hope she has ordered 
 some figs from the Berkeley Castle. These mountains 
 never saw a fig. But dear me ! If you are reading all this 
 at the depot, Aunt Prissy will be sending Uncle Isham to 
 look for you. She will think you've run away with Miss 
 Betty ! 
 
 Don't get lonesome, dear Cousin James ! We shall re 
 main here only during August. Find some nice new books 
 for Aunt Prissy. Ride over to Ridgely and the Manor and 
 Bellevue. Spend a day at the mill with Mrs. Bangs and 
 "Ma'y Jane," and tell me all the funny things Mrs. Bangs 
 says, and whether she has heard from Mr. Bangs. Don't 
 neglect Mrs. Ponsonby Don't forget Primrose's sugar 
 in short be very good, and soon, soon you will see us all 
 again and very glad to see you will be 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 SHIRLEY. 
 
 P.S. To tell the gospel truth, honour bright, I'd rather 
 spend my afternoons with you in our old fairy glen than 
 on Mr. Blake's beautiful Stanley for, you see, his master 
 will always, always be along." 
 
 The Colonel read and re-read this letter, and 
 shook his head. "A delightful letter!" he 
 thought. "Just like Shirley in her kind remem 
 brance of her neighbours. But why is Beech-
 
 172 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 wood left out in her list of places I must visit ? 
 Douglas is one of her very earliest friends, too ! 
 She should not have forgotten him. I must 
 remind her." The poor Colonel ! He thought 
 Shirley was missing him ! 
 
 On the evening of the first day of August, 
 General Robertson, arriving from Baltimore, 
 tied a blue sash across his chest, and gloved, 
 booted, and cravatted to perfection, entered the 
 drawing-room, where a great crowd in full ball 
 dress was assembled and awaiting him. The 
 stately wife of an American minister, fresh from 
 a foreign court, placed her ivory hand upon his 
 arm ; and they led the grand march from the 
 drawing-room to the ballroom, through the 
 long convent-like corridor, and the crowded 
 galleries beyond. Conducting her to a seat in 
 front of the music-stand, he stood beside her 
 a portly gentleman, who had opened the ball at 
 the White Sulphur every season for thirty years. 
 After the company crowded in, he excused him 
 self to the Kentucky lady, and crossing the 
 room, bowed low to Shirley, and together they 
 made the round of the room alone the old 
 beau dancing with the lightness of thistle-down, 
 and the precision of a master. 
 
 Shirley flushed like a wild rose at the unex-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 173 
 
 pected honour which meant much to a young 
 debutante. Her partner was quite capable, 
 albeit stout and past middle age, of exhibiting 
 her dancing to the best advantage. His cour 
 tier-like deference was charming, a fine object- 
 lesson to younger men. Old Harper, the ball 
 room custodian, standing near the door, nodded 
 his head delightedly. "I tell you" he said to 
 Mr. Blake, "there goes the best blood in old 
 Virginny, and the top notch from Maryland ! 
 Can't beat 'em, suh, can't beat 'em!" 
 
 "I should like jolly well to beat him" laughed 
 Blake, who, having visited London, affected 
 British slang. But the incident, ordinary and 
 insignificant as it was, confirmed him in his 
 Virginia resolution. He would devote his sum 
 mer to this distingue belle of the White Sulphur, 
 and what is more, if she wore well, win her in the 
 end. She had been indifferent at times, almost 
 repellent. All the better ! He could imagine 
 few things tamer than an easy conquest. And 
 really, after all, a time must come when a man 
 must settle down. 
 
 The next day a note was placed at every table, 
 announcing a garden party on the fifteenth of 
 August. Guests were requested to make lists 
 of all their friends, and handsome invitation
 
 174 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 cards were ready for their use. Special excur 
 sion rates had been promised by the railroad. 
 The recently inaugurated President of the 
 United States would occupy his own cottage on 
 the hill beyond the spring, and in his suite would 
 probably be officers who had won spurs in the 
 late wars with Mexico. A committee of ladies 
 was headed by the Kentucky wife of the late 
 foreign Minister, and included Mrs. Berkeley 
 from Virginia, and representative ladies from all 
 of the Southern States ; also from Pennsylvania, 
 for a very charming Philadelphia woman was a 
 cottager this summer. To this committee the 
 manager looked for suggestions, that this not 
 able occasion might be worthy of their honoured 
 guest. 
 
 At the very first meeting of the committee, 
 the house lists, prepared by the members, were 
 revised, and Mrs. Berkeley observed that the 
 name of Mrs. Stubbs and her friend Mrs. 
 Talbot were left out the only omissions 
 among the visitors. She called attention to 
 this. 
 
 "O dear!" said one. "You surely can't ex 
 pect us to have those people that common 
 little Dutch creature Stubbs and that bold- 
 looking made-up minx that nobody knows."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 175 
 
 "I think they are Virginians," said Mrs. 
 Berkeley, kindly. 
 
 "Oh, but," said the other, "they aren't from 
 any of the old distinguished families of Virginia. 
 Did you ever meet them before ? I thought 
 not ! We don't want any of the riff-raff at 
 our ball. Let them keep their places. They 
 ought to know them well enough by this time." 
 
 " How will you make any woman know exactly 
 where she belongs ? Ideas might differ ! " said 
 the lady from Philadelphia. She had her own 
 notions about some of the methods of the 
 "porcelain variety." "How are you going to 
 work to make people keep their places ?" 
 
 "Oh ! if they are troublesome why 'give 
 them a little more grape, Captain Bragg." 
 
 "I am sorry," said Mrs. Berkeley, gravely, 
 ignoring the laugh that followed the quotation 
 from a famous military order of the President, 
 "but for myself, I cannot consent to inflict so 
 deep a wound. Of course, the proprietor is 
 careful in choosing his guests otherwise none 
 of us would be here. If they are left out, I shall 
 have very reluctantly to withdraw from 
 the committee. I cannot hurt any one's feelings. 
 As to Mrs. Stubbs, a more inoffensive human 
 being I cannot imagine. She seems to be the
 
 176 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 soul of kindness. Why should she not have a 
 pleasant evening as well as the rest of us who 
 have so many ?" 
 
 "Mrs. Berkeley is quite right," said the lady 
 from Philadelphia. "Let us be guided by her. 
 I move to add the rejected names to our list," 
 and thus the matter was settled, but with reluc 
 tant acquiescence on the part of more than one 
 haughty dame. "This place is getting to be too 
 democratic for me," said one, complaining to 
 Major Selden. "If I am compelled to hear all 
 winter discussions upon our common rights of 
 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, 5 that 
 is no reason I must have my own summer happi 
 ness spoiled by being yoked along with the 
 canaille. I am amazed at Mrs. Berkeley ! Who 
 is that Mrs. Talbot ? Of course no woman is 
 permitted to criticise another who happens to 
 be unusually handsome and knows it." 
 
 "If 'ladies be but young and fair, they have 
 the gift to know it,' " said the Major, who did not 
 relish an implied censure of his friend. "That's 
 just as true to-day as in the time of Jaques the 
 melancholy." 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes of course ! But you see this 
 factory girl, this Stubbs woman, is neither young 
 nor fair. As to her gifts nobody has yet per-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 177 
 
 ceived them. As manager of a ceremonious 
 military ball, she is quite out of the question. 
 Really, there's reason in all things." 
 
 But the arrival of Hazazar, the costumer from 
 Baltimore, put an end to all minor discussions. 
 Hazazar came prepared to transform everybody 
 into fisher-maidens, milk-maidens, flower maid 
 ens, night, morning-stars, follys, Dianas, 
 Minervas, Queens, Courtiers, Kings, peasants, 
 what not ? Of course the President and his 
 party were excused from costuming ; also the 
 ladies of the committee, these constituting 
 the reception committee, before whom all the 
 others were to pass in review. 
 
 "I suppose you two will rebel and expect at 
 the last moment to be forgiven," said Mrs. 
 Berkeley to her husband and Major Selden. 
 
 "Not a bit of it," said the Major; "I shall 
 go as the Ancient Mariner 'long and lank 
 and brown !' I have my own story to tell of a 
 long voyage and " 
 
 "Then I shall go as the Wedding-guest," 
 laughed the Doctor; "for nobody else will 
 listen to Harry's story. My sympathies have 
 always been with the wedding-guest ; belated, 
 maybe, and forging along in a hurry, to be best 
 man perhaps at his friend's wedding, and held
 
 178 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 up by an old seaman ! Ah ! many's the time 
 that Harry has left me a wiser man and a 
 sadder, because I hadn't more time for his 
 capital stories. Now I shall make up for lost 
 opportunities. I shall cling to him like a 
 Siamese twin, or a burr, as I am agricultural 
 or yet more appropriately, a plaster." 
 
 Shirley listened with intense interest. She 
 had early secured mainly influenced by the 
 fact that she could weave a pearl coif from her 
 wax beads the only Juliet costume in the 
 collection. It was exacted "that no one should 
 reveal the choice of a costume." In all cases, 
 when a costume was requested that had been 
 already selected, it was simply "not in the col 
 lection," the time was short, the stock limited, 
 and another choice must be quickly made. But 
 Hazazar had an assistant. Money is mighty in 
 any emergency. A liberal "tip," secretly con 
 veyed, elicited enlightening information to Mr. 
 Blake, who immediately secured the only Romeo 
 costume a fact which the amiable assistant 
 instantly conveyed to Juliet. 
 
 Secure in his position, he could afford to 
 amuse himself with Shirley. "I think," he 
 said, "you would make a charming Miranda." 
 Shirley gravely agreed with him.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 179 
 
 "Then I shall be Ferdinand! That is de 
 cided!" 
 
 "You are ambitious," said Shirley, looking at 
 him critically. "As I recall Ferdinand he was 
 quite beyond the ordinary individual ' a thing 
 divine/ noble in adversity, strong, dark." 
 
 "Oh, I suppose," interrupted Blake, irritably, 
 "you would be quite willing to see me personate 
 Caliban." 
 
 " I don't remember much about Caliban. 
 He was pretty awful, I suppose, but I have no 
 personal grievance against him. He could sing 
 a reasonably good song. He has my sympathy 
 in regard to scraping trenchers and washing 
 dishes." 
 
 Blake always recovered from the irritation of 
 these little passages at arms with renewed 
 spirit. "Too light winning makes the prize 
 light," was one of his favourite quotations. On 
 the present occasion, Shirley had a great desire 
 to find some character which would excuse her 
 close companionship with her father and Colonel 
 Selden. She had learned to avoid, as far as 
 possible, private interviews with Mr. Blake. 
 On horseback she could always gallop ahead 
 in his trap she would never accompany him. 
 For the "Lover's Walk" she managed to be
 
 180 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 always engaged to some young lad, or Tom 
 Burns the irrepressible, or some newcomer. 
 She was thus unconsciously enhancing her own 
 charm in his eyes. The more she eluded him, 
 the more ardent was his pursuit. 
 
 Here now was an occasion demanding deep 
 thought and subtle behaviour. She settled the 
 possibility of appearing as Juliet by presenting 
 her costume to a dear girl, whom she knew to be 
 too poor for anything so gorgeous, and re-read 
 her little pocket edition of Coleridge, a present 
 from Douglas. "I might be the ' frightful 
 fiend* that 'closely treads behind,'" she thought ; 
 "no, no, that's impossible. The sailor that 
 shot the albatross ? equally out of the ques 
 tion ; he was the Mariner. Ah-h ! I have it ! 
 
 ' ' He holds him with his glittering eye 
 And listens like a three years' child.' 
 
 I shall be the three years' child." 
 
 "I don' know what I'm cuttin' up your bes' 
 summer frock for, Miss Shirley!" complained 
 Milly, as she ripped the lace from a handsome 
 mull gown. "Ef you'se aimin' to make me put 
 it on Dolly, I tell you now flat-footed I ain' 
 gwine to do it. I ain' gwine sacerfice that chile 
 to none o' these distracted doin's at this place."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 181 
 
 "You're going to do exactly as I want you 
 to, Mammy ! You are going to make a short 
 baby-waist, to a plain, short skirt with a hem, 
 and three tucks above the hem. And what is 
 more, nobody, honour-bright-cross-your-heart, 
 except Mama, is to see it." 
 
 "I got no call to cross my heart for you or 
 anybody else, Miss Shirley. Fse a Baptist, 
 an' you knows it. Go 'long, chile, you knows 
 what I gwine do ! I gwine do jest what you 
 tells me. You ain' got no call to be cuttin' up 
 good does ! Miss M'Comas had a lot o' trouble 
 sewin' on all this lace."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ALAS ! Poor mortals know but too well the 
 fate of many of their best-laid schemes. The 
 morning of the great day opened with rain of 
 that steady persistent kind that precludes all 
 hope of sunshine. Garden-party, indeed, with 
 flower-garlanded walks, lighted by coloured 
 lanterns ! The proprietor met all questions with 
 smiling serenity. He had but one request 
 to be allowed to advance the mid-day meal to 
 one o'clock and permission to close the doors of 
 the public rooms until nine. A collation would 
 be sent to each cottage and room in the after 
 noon. 
 
 When the company assembled in the evening, 
 the biggest kind of a surprise awaited them. 
 Coloured lanterns were thickly hung around the 
 long veranda. Within, they were introduced 
 into a garden. Birnam Wood had come to 
 Dunsinane. Slender trees were bound to every 
 one of the long, long rows of pillars, extending 
 through sliding panels the whole length of the 
 building, the floor was carpeted with green, and 
 
 182
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 183 
 
 growing flowers were tastefully arranged in the 
 centre of green mounds. Festoons of flowers 
 shaded the swinging lanterns. The President 
 the old hero of Buena Vista in his throne 
 chair looked down upon a scene gorgeous with 
 colour ; laughing, scintillating under the glamour 
 of the many shaded lights. "How on earth did 
 you manage to have these trees brought to-day ? " 
 he asked the proud proprietor. He could drive 
 a Mexican column up the slope of a mountain, 
 but he had never ordered a forest to march into 
 a ballroom. 
 
 "Those trees have been lying in my cellar 
 for several days," he was answered. "I could 
 take no risks, you see." 
 
 The costumed company represented many 
 characters, historic or fanciful. When Mr. Blake 
 requested that he might follow Miss Berkeley 
 or accompany her, the amiable announcer in 
 dulged him. To his unspeakable chagrin the 
 party was announced in rapid succession as 
 "The Ancient Mariner, The Wedding-guest, 
 Romeo, with a three years' child that listens." 
 Shirley had covered herself with an ample cloak 
 which she dropped, too late for his escape, into 
 Milly's hands. The President shouted with 
 laughter. He was known to dislike society
 
 1 84 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 conventions and ceremonies and had looked for 
 ward with dismay to this ball, and the part 
 expected of himself. The trio before him was 
 irresistibly comical. 
 
 Dismally lank, lean, and brown looked the 
 Ancient Mariner, dressy and debonair the wed 
 ding-guest ; while Shirley was simply entrancing 
 in her baby shoes, blue sash, sleeves looped with 
 blue ribbons, and amber beads. Her fine eyes 
 danced with merriment, and her brown hair 
 peeped out in little rings from her baby-cap. 
 
 "I wonder," whispered the Ancient Mariner 
 to Shirley, "if he would be insulted if we ex 
 plained ourselves to him. His knowledge of 
 literature, Scott says, doesn't go much beyond 
 good old Dilworth's spelling-book." 
 
 "He knows enough to understand children. 
 Sh-h. He's beckoning to us now," said Shirley. 
 
 "Why amber, little girl ?" asked the President, 
 by way of earning a word from the pretty vision. 
 "Is not coral the wear for a baby ?" 
 
 "Yeth, thir," lisped the three-year-older, "bu\. 
 amber ith good for my croup !" 
 
 "Perhaps the baby would give an old soldier 
 a kiss old enough to be her grandfather ? " 
 
 Shirley answered this with a charming curt 
 sey, and stooping, touched with her lips the
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 185 
 
 President's hand. He was delighted. Raising 
 her as if he were a king, he respectfully kissed her 
 own little hand. The pretty episode was ap 
 plauded, and the blushing girl would have gladly 
 vanished in the crowd. The old warrior, how 
 ever, seated her beside him to help him out, as 
 he said. "That fellow at the door calls out the 
 companies as they come on the field," he said, 
 "but I do not follow him very well. I shall 
 have to retire early and you will have plenty of 
 dancing time." 
 
 She dropped her infantile lisp and manner, 
 and met the old General on the plains of Mexico. 
 She could repeat the stirring lines, beginning 
 
 " Beneath the stern old mountains we met them in their 
 
 pride, 
 And rolled from Buena Vista back the battle's bloody 
 
 tide." 
 
 She was so ardently patriotic and the veteran 
 so fatherly that she lost her shyness in her efforts 
 to entertain him. "Ah, Mr. Attorney-General," 
 he said to Reverdy Johnson, "we find an ally 
 here in the Virginia mountains a good Whig. 
 We must have her at the White House next 
 winter. Mrs. Taylor will send for her." 
 
 "We need her in the Cabinet," said the At-
 
 186 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 torney-General, gravely. "There's a vacancy 
 in Mrs. Johnson's establishment. The Vice- 
 President's office is already ably rilled by Mr. 
 Fillmore." 
 
 Mr. Blake found his evening completely 
 spoiled. He would have liked to avenge him 
 self by devoted attentions to Miss Esme King, 
 or Miss Eustis, or Tom Burns's witty sister. 
 But he had asked no dances of those young 
 ladies, and their cards were already full. Well, 
 he could show Miss Berkeley that he too could 
 be indifferent. He knew the President would 
 release her at an early hour. If she thought he 
 was waiting for her, she would find herself mis 
 taken. He would not dance at all. He was 
 too much offended to hover around her. The 
 evening train from the South arrived near mid 
 night, and he strolled forward to see the new 
 comers. The first man that sprang out of the 
 omnibus and entered the office was Douglas 
 Newton. Without being recognized, Blake re 
 turned to the ballroom. He felt that this might 
 complicate matters. Shirley would have one 
 more devoted attendant, and his own oppor 
 tunities for interviews with her would be rarer. 
 
 Many windows opened from the great ball 
 room into the galleries that surrounded it on
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 187 
 
 three sides. The country people thronged these 
 whenever anything unusual was expected, and 
 every window was now filled with eager specta 
 tors young men and young girls, old grey 
 beards and women with babies. No proprietor, 
 since the existence of the hotel, had ever for 
 bidden them. They were the gallery to the 
 theatre, and watched the dances with gravity 
 and perfect behaviour. 
 
 "What's all this going on?" Douglas asked 
 an old friend whom he found in the office pre 
 ferring a quiet smoke to the hot, crowded ball 
 
 room. 
 
 
 Oh, they've captured the old hero, and are 
 working hard for his amusement, costuming, 
 masquerading, and what not. He is perfectly 
 delighted ! You should have seen him kissing 
 the hand of that lovely Miss Berkeley, with all 
 the airs of an old courtier. You are quite sure 
 you won't smoke ? This is a mild cigar won't 
 keep you awake." 
 
 " No, thank you not to-night ! You were 
 saying " 
 
 "Oh, about Miss Berkeley? She entered 
 the ballroom dressed like a little child, looking 
 like one of Titian's angels, and he was so wrought 
 upon, bless you, he asked for a kiss ! but, egad,
 
 1 88 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 the young lady evaded it as cleverly as you can 
 imagine, bowed her pretty head a moment over 
 his hand, and curtsied in the most charmingly 
 deferential manner. She was willing to salute 
 the old soldier that far ! He admired her ex 
 tremely. All this to-do over him delights him. 
 No more wars for him ! More than ever he 
 thanks God we are 'at peace with all the world 
 and the rest of mankind,' as he said, you remem 
 ber, at his inauguration last March. Bless his 
 innocence ! He heard the people laugh, but that 
 they were laughing at him never entered his 
 head." 
 
 Douglas felt himself too travel-soiled to ap 
 pear in company, and it was too late to go to 
 his distant room and refresh his toilet. He 
 found a vacant spot in a window, and pulling 
 his hat over his brows, he surveyed the gay 
 scene within. The President and his party were 
 to leave next morning, and they retired early. 
 Shirley's friends had placed her in his chair and 
 were gathered around her, full of interest in her 
 conversation with the old General. She had 
 removed her baby-cap, and her hair fell in soft 
 undulations around her shoulders. It was the 
 fashion of the hour to wear the hair braided and 
 wound around the head like a coronet, but Doug-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 189 
 
 las could remember Shirley as a little girl, and 
 the little girl was again before him. Never had 
 she seemed to him so adorable ! A great ten 
 derness, a great longing to protect her, swelled 
 his heart. The country woman leaning in the 
 window beside him heard a sigh, and regarded 
 him with pity and perfect intelligence "out 
 thar in the dark," she told her husband as they 
 drove homeward, "an* his sweetheart inside 
 dancin' with the other fellers ! I cert'nly was 
 sorry fer 'im. An' he was a sight better lookin' 
 then any of the rest of 'em !"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHEN Douglas called at the Berkeley cottage 
 next morning, he found only Mammy and 
 Dorothea ready to receive him, and they were 
 just leaving the door for a walk to the Happy 
 Gardens in the cool of the morning. A little 
 boy with a wistful countenance led Dorothea 
 by the hand. Douglas turned and accompanied 
 them, Dorothea having gravely presented her 
 companion. "This is my friend Jack. I never 
 can find Mama in the day to interduce him to her, 
 and Shirley says she always interduces all her 
 friends to Mama, and," - but Milly, foreseeing 
 a long explanation, broke in : 
 
 "This yer's the innercentest chile at this place. 
 I dunno nothin' 'bout his folks ; they tells me 
 I better look out, but this little boy cert'nly 
 is a comfort to Dolly. He jest devoted to her, 
 an' she ain't a bit o' trouble to nobody when she 
 got him to play wid. More'n that, my Mistis 
 is above all that foolishness 'bout who she 'sociate 
 wid. She ain' feared she hurt herse'f by visitin' 
 even ole Miss Bangs." 
 
 "So this is Jack," said Douglas, kindly, "and 
 
 190
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 191 
 
 he has been taking care of my little Dorothea 
 while I was away." 
 
 "Because you know," said Dorothea, "Shir 
 ley hasn't time to amuse me at all, an' the other 
 children don't tell stories an' play moss-houses. 
 Oh, I do like 'em very much but you see I 
 love Jack ! " 
 
 "I see," said Douglas, gravely; "that makes 
 all the difference in the world. But is he only 
 Jack ? Has he no other name ?" 
 
 " Tain't no matter what his name is," said 
 Milly, hastily. "I knowed a boy once named 
 Pat Grubble an' he was jus' as nice as any chile 
 I ever want to see. Pretty is as pretty does 
 names ain' nothin'. Look at this yer low-down 
 no 'count nigger that call hisself Napoleon Bona 
 parte Johnsing ! He knows what 7 think of 
 him ! Ef he was a do'mat at my do', I wouldn't 
 wipe my foot on him." 
 
 Douglas gathered that Dorothea's new friend 
 was not of aristocratic lineage, but he respected 
 the child's feelings too much to catechise him. 
 The little boy, however, who had only waited for 
 a pause in the conversation, now said simply, 
 "My name is John Baker Stubbs," and added, 
 anticipating the usual next question, "eight- 
 goin'-on-nine."
 
 192 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Douglas thought him wonderfully small for 
 so great an age. He shook him by the hand, 
 saying, "I am very happy to make your ac 
 quaintance," received an approving glance 
 from Dorothea, and leaving the party, turned 
 aside into one of the by-paths of the Lover's 
 Walk. 
 
 The grove was deserted. Usually couples who 
 could find no other time or place for confidential 
 talk might be found here and there on the seats 
 under the trees, little short benches a deux at 
 discreet distances apart, but after the mid 
 night rout, sentiment was refreshing itself by 
 a morning's sleep. 
 
 Douglas seated himself on one of the benches, 
 and clasping his hands at the back of his neck, 
 his favourite attitude, settled himself for an 
 hour of profound thought. Why should he think 
 more about it ? Every step had been gone over 
 again and again. Rumours had reached him 
 from time to time of Blake's devotion to Shirley, 
 of the rides together, of the rare flowers he 
 showered upon her, coming daily on ice from the 
 best florist in Baltimore, of his openly avowed 
 intention to distance all competitors. Of Shir 
 ley's own attitude there seemed no doubt. 
 What more could any girl desire ? He was
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 193 
 
 accomplished, handsome, travelled ; in good 
 social position abroad. When the time came 
 for him to "settle down," Shirley would find 
 herself handsomely placed in New York or Lon 
 don or anywhere she pleased. Thus Dame 
 Rumour threw the ball from one to another, 
 until at last it had reached Beechwood. 
 
 "Now," he reflected, "the time has come for 
 action. What must be my first step ? Dr. 
 Berkeley would believe me, of course. He would 
 know me to be incapable of a selfish motive 
 out of all question now. He could forbid fur 
 ther acquaintance. Shirley would believe, too, 
 but suppose her affections have been engaged ! 
 She would break her heart ! Better, a thousand 
 times, it should break than she should marry 
 a No, no, she must be saved from that, 
 be her very life the forfeit." 
 
 A footstep on the dried pine leaves, and Blake 
 stood before him ! He, too, had sought the 
 deserted spot for uninterrupted meditation. 
 
 "Hello, Newton ! When did you come ? I 
 didn't know you were expected," and he took 
 the seat beside the other. 
 
 Ignoring the proffered hand and familiar 
 greeting and action, Douglas rose and said 
 sternly :
 
 i 9 4 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 " I was not expected. It is as well you should 
 know at once that I am here because of your 
 devoted attentions to my cousin." 
 
 "My word ! This is interesting ! Perhaps 
 you will kindly enlighten me. Why, may I ask, 
 can I not pay my devoirs to Miss Berkeley 
 especially as she has not forbidden them." 
 
 "You remember you lost a letter at Berkeley 
 Castle," - Blake started, but immediately froze 
 into stiff silence. Douglas repeated, "You lost 
 a letter ! It was opened before my eyes and read 
 before I knew to whom it was written by 
 whom it was written. It was addressed to you, 
 it was signed by " 
 
 "Stop!" said Blake, rising in a towering rage, 
 and losing all self-control. "Before you go a 
 step farther let me demand your right, as I 
 should have done before this : first, to read 
 my private letters ; secondly, to interfere in any 
 of my matters whatsoever." 
 
 " I have told you. I have no apology to make 
 for a pure accident. Having been given knowl 
 edge denied others, I have the right to use it 
 and protect my cousin." 
 
 "Cousin?" sneered Blake. "Cousin! Pos 
 sibly her great-grandfather's second wife's sister- 
 in-law might have been your great-grandmother.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 195 
 
 She has given you no nearer right of that 
 I am sure. So, Mr. Douglas Newton, by your 
 august permission, I shall e'en pursue my own 
 sweet will at my own convenience." 
 
 "You shall not, by God," said Newton, con 
 fronting Blake with blazing eyes. "I wished 
 to spare you I did not desire to degrade you, 
 but I shall at once go to Dr. Berkeley." 
 
 " Whe-w ! Degrade I And has he, have 
 you, no memories ? Are a man's conquests 
 as he lives through his golden years reckoned 
 degradation or triumph ? Come, come, Newton ; 
 don't affect to be an innocent fool. Haul down 
 your haughty colours ! A fair field is every 
 man's right." 
 
 ' You are a contemptible puppy ! I mean it ! 
 How could you DARE permit me to introduce you 
 to my friends ? How dare you take advantage 
 of that introduction knowing, as you do, 
 that I know you. It is war to the knife between 
 you and me." 
 
 "War to the knife, is it ? To the knife then 
 let it be or, if you prefer, the pistol ! I wish 
 you a very good morning, Mr. Newton ! To 
 morrow morning will be a better, when I shut 
 your impudent mouth forever ! My friend will 
 call on you."
 
 196 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Your challenge is accepted," said Douglas, 
 sternly. "I name Major Harry Selden as my 
 second, and refer your * friend' to him," and, 
 turning promptly, he pursued the outward path 
 through the grove. This path, as he knew, led 
 at the rear of the cottages to the President's 
 cottage on the hill. In last night's hasty 
 glance over the registry of arrivals, he had 
 observed that Major Selden had a room in this 
 cottage. The President and his party, who had 
 left in the early train, had not needed the whole 
 of the house and had not permitted Major 
 Selden to be disturbed. 
 
 Hoping to find the Major at home, Douglas 
 walked rapidly down the shaded path. Pres 
 ently he heard children's voices, and looking up, 
 espied Milly, Dorothea, and Jack, with their 
 hands full of honeysuckle, returning from the 
 "Happy Gardens" in which the Lover's Walk 
 terminates. Had Douglas seen the Happy Gar 
 dens ? Then they must turn right back with 
 him 'twasn't far. He ought to see the old 
 honeysuckles all lying on the ground in bloom. 
 "Everybody has forgotten the honeysuckles but 
 God, Mammy says ! They were planted for a 
 lady years and years and years ago, and every 
 summer they bloom to let her know they don't
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 197 
 
 forget and she does know, Mammy says, up 
 there where she is." 
 
 "Look 'ere, chillern," said Milly. "You ain' 
 gwine back. Come along home an' git ready for 
 dinner. What you talkin' so much to yo' cousin 
 Douglas for, Dolly ? Don' you see he ain' 
 heerd a word you say ?" 
 
 Douglas hastened along with one thought 
 preeminent above all others to get speech as 
 speedily as possible with Major Selden and ex 
 plain the liberty he had taken in naming him 
 without first obtaining his consent. Above 
 everything the matter must be kept from the 
 Berkeleys. Major Selden would realize this, 
 and excuse him. 
 
 The Major was seated in the little porch of his 
 cottage, his chair tilted back and his feet on the 
 banister having just returned from the post- 
 office near the Spring ; and with his papers on 
 a table beside him under a book to keep them 
 from blowing away, he was unfolding the Rich 
 mond Whig when Douglas ran up the flight of 
 steps leading to the President's cottage. 
 
 "Bless me! By the powers, it's Newton! 
 I haven't seen you since you went abroad. 
 Come up ! I'm delighted to see you. When 
 did you arrive ?"
 
 198 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "I'm afraid, Major, your greeting would be 
 less cordial if you knew my errand. It is of a 
 delicate nature. May we go within ? I have 
 just had a quarrel with Mr. Blake and he 
 has challenged me to fight him. I ventured to 
 name you as my second - ' and he proceeded 
 without replying to the questions, and under seal 
 of strict confidence to relate the whole story, 
 from Andy's discovery to the present moment. 
 
 Major Selden was a man of the old school. 
 He had been second in several duels and principal 
 in more than one. He believed in a man's right 
 nay, obligation to settle aspersions upon 
 his honour in this way, and the right rose to the 
 dignity of a sacred privilege if the sword left its 
 scabbard in defence of innocent and beautiful 
 womanhood. Like an old war-horse, he thrilled 
 in the prospect of battle. He said with empha 
 sis : "You were right to provoke the challenge, 
 right to accept it. You make me your debtor 
 by confiding your honour to my care." 
 
 " I appreciate the fact that my story could be 
 revealed to no one less devoted to Dr. Berkeley 
 than yourself." 
 
 "Right, right, my boy ! I think it would kill 
 Mary Berkeley if her girl's name should be in 
 cluded in any such story bandied about
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 199 
 
 from one newsmonger to another. The pretty 
 child would perish like a butterfly in z flame. 
 Now, our first thought must be of them and 
 the sooner we get this over, the better. The 
 other party has lost the privilege of naming place, 
 hour, and weapons. I never travel without my 
 pistols, I have a fine pair, and I see no reason 
 why we should not arrange a meeting for to 
 morrow. The hour had better be not long 
 before the morning train leaves for Washington. 
 We are lawbreakers already, and should Blake 
 fall we would have to get you out of the state in 
 short order. What sort of a shot are you ?" 
 
 "I can cut saw-teeth around a visiting card 
 at ten paces," said Douglas, "but I desire no 
 advantage. Mr. Blake is, I hope, competent, 
 or he would not have suggested pistols." 
 
 A step on the gravel arrested their attention, 
 and through the open door they perceived the 
 face of Tom Burns, pale with suppressed excite 
 ment. "I come from Mr. Blake, gentlemen, 
 I I he represented to me that he had no 
 friends in this place and I could not refuse him. 
 I bear his challenge to Mr. Douglas Newton." 
 
 "I suppose," said Major Selden, stiffly, "you 
 have been made aware of the occasion of the 
 duel?"
 
 200 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 " I have not," said poor Tom, with an expres 
 sion of abject misery. "My principal instructs 
 me to say that no negotiation except as to place 
 and weapons is necessary, he will consider 
 none. But he asks the privilege of time to-day 
 to arrange his affairs as he is from New York 
 and also has an engagement to ride with a young 
 lady early this afternoon." 
 
 The Major restrained Douglas with a mean 
 ing glance, and replied : "His request is granted. 
 The time will be to-morrow, half an hour sharp 
 before the departure of the morning train to 
 Washington ; the place will be the little level 
 beyond the Lover's Leap quite hidden by 
 trees from the buildings here ; the weapons, 
 pistols one of a pair I have with me." 
 
 Tom bowed and withdrew. "You see, Doug 
 las," said the Major, "we are in luck. That 
 young fellow knows nothing. The spot I select 
 has been used before for a similar purpose, and the 
 pistol shots, if heard at all, awakened no inquiry." 
 
 The Major was so much exhilarated by the 
 incident that he launched into a train of vivid 
 reminiscences of Virginia duels in which he had 
 taken part, and of which he had heard. "It 
 is the best remedy for an injury," he said, "and 
 the only one ! I am thankful to say I never
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 201 
 
 had any part in a fight which proved fatal to 
 either principal. I winged my man once 
 slightly -- and never had a night's sleep until 
 he recovered. You know Jim Barksdale ? 
 That's the old fellow old now, but not then, 
 and the best friend I have." 
 
 "Should not the ride this afternoon be pre 
 vented ? " interrupted Douglas, gloomily. 
 
 "How do you know it is to be with Miss 
 Berkeley ? Perhaps he will ride with Miss 
 Kitty Burns. They are sometimes together. 
 Don't worry about that. I'll see to it. Shirley 
 shall not ride with Mr. Blake to-day, if I have 
 to break her neck to prevent it. But as I was 
 saying, we have had no duel comparable in 
 interest to one my father remembers. I was a 
 boy at the time, and never shall forget the excite 
 ment caused by it." 
 
 "Hamilton and Aaron Burr, of course," said 
 Douglas, wishing to help along a story that 
 promised to require time in the telling. 
 
 " No, sir ! Not at all ! A different affair 
 with altogether a different result. I allude to 
 Henry Clay's duel with John Randolph. Of 
 course, you've read Tom Jones! In one of 
 Mr. Randolph's outbursts in the Senate he 
 called the Union of the President and Henry
 
 202 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Clay 'the coalition of Blifil and Black George; 
 the combination of the Puritan and the blackleg.' 
 According to the ruling sentiment at Washington 
 there was but one result which could follow such 
 language as this. Mr. Randolph and Mr. Clay 
 must exchange shots, and so they did; Mr. 
 Clay's ball cutting Mr. Randolph's coat near the 
 hip, and Mr. Randolph's ball burying itself in a 
 stump in the rear of Mr. Clay. On the second 
 round, Randolph received Clay's shot which 
 was happily without effect, and then raising his 
 pistol, fired in the air. 'You owe me a coat, 
 Mr. Clay,' said he, advancing and holding out 
 his hand. 'I am glad the debt is no greater,' 
 was the reply, and so the matter ended. Mr. 
 Benton said it was among the 'highest toned' 
 duels that he ever witnessed. But you are not 
 going ? Well, everything is being done just 
 right. Make yourself perfectly easy."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 WHEN Douglas Newton turned away from 
 Blake in the Lover's Walk, the latter found a seat 
 behind a tree, and proceeded to arrange his plans 
 in accordance with the new turn affairs had 
 taken. He perceived he had been rash in 
 challenging Newton, and cursed his folly. And 
 yet he would not now be exposed to Dr. 
 Berkeley. Until the fight was over, he would 
 be safe. That was an exhilarating thought. 
 Many things might happen in twenty-four 
 hours. True, he was irrevocably committed, 
 and Newton was, without doubt, awaiting him 
 at Major Selden's rooms. He must find some 
 body to act for him. No danger of Major 
 Selden's hinting anything to the Berkeleys 
 he dared not arouse suspicion. 
 
 And after all, he reflected, what was it all 
 about ? What did Shirley care about him ? 
 Ah, he was pretty sure of her ! Her coquetry 
 proved it ! He had never felt the faintest fear 
 of failure. It was impossible he should fail. 
 Shirley had accepted his gifts of flowers, his 
 
 203
 
 204 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 homage, his flattery and pray why not ? 
 Was there one in ail her train that could lay so 
 much at her feet ? And, by George, she was 
 worth it ! She was just the type of American 
 woman the English rave over. Spirited, too, 
 could thrust as well as parry. But this was 
 no time to linger over the lady's charms. His 
 hour for prompt action had come. A bold step 
 would result in success. Once having given her 
 promise, Shirley would listen to nothing against 
 him. She would become his ally, his power 
 ful ally. She could learn by accident of the 
 impending duel. It would be prevented. He 
 smiled as he imagined her devotion, her spirited 
 defence of him. 
 
 He rose with a sigh. He must return to the 
 office, hunt up the registry of arrivals, and find 
 a friend. Coming up the hill, whistling, was 
 Tom Burns. The very man ! Boy enough to 
 be proud of the distinction, Kentucky bred, 
 and trained in an atmosphere of chivalrous 
 enthusiasm, quite man enough for his pur 
 pose. Old Selden would see to it there would 
 be no deviation from the Code. The result 
 justified his reasoning, and Tom sped on his 
 errand. 
 
 The cars from the North were drawing into the
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 205 
 
 depot, and thither he repaired for the special box 
 of choice orchids expected that day from Balti 
 more. Opening the box in the depot, he wrapped 
 them carefully, and took them himself to the 
 isolated little Berkeley cottage near. He wrote 
 on his card an earnest entreaty that Shirley 
 would see him, if but for one moment, and enter 
 ing the pretty little parlour, he covered the table 
 with the flowers. Shirley had not left the cot 
 tage, and immediately appeared looking angelic 
 in her morning dress. 
 
 Blake rose as she entered, with a smothered 
 exclamation of gratitude. He at once assumed 
 an air of intense agitation. "Shirley," he said, 
 "I must speak! I must! I have not slept! 
 You were cruelly cold to me last night. I have 
 been in the woods since dawn and I have felt at 
 times that I should lose my reason ! No, no, 
 I entreat you to listen ! You know my feelings 
 for you and yet you give me no word ! I 
 can bear it no longer ! My heart is breaking ! 
 Shirley ! Oh ! How can I say it as I wish ? I 
 can do so much for you ! You can lead society 
 in London, or Paris, or New York and come 
 often to your dear old Virginia. Shirley, can 
 you not come with me ? May I not serve you 
 as I shall love you all my life ?"
 
 206 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 But Shirley stood looking at him without 
 blush or tremor. She could not control a faint 
 smile as she marked his careful toilet, his well- 
 groomed appearance, not a bit dishevelled by 
 his agitated walks in the woods at dawn. Her 
 leadership in London and Paris ! Was he try 
 ing to play the impassioned lover ? Was this 
 his idea of making love ? Really, he was acting 
 extremely well ! Blake's heart bounded as he 
 perceived the quivering moonlight smile, and 
 he essayed to take her in his arms. Drawing 
 aloof from him, she looked him fully and calmly 
 in the face. 
 
 "Say no more, Mr. Blake ! I do not love 
 you. I never can love you ! I shall never 
 consent to marry you ! I thank you for these," 
 laying her hand on the flowers, "but I can re 
 ceive no more, nor any further attentions from 
 you," and with her own graceful little curtsey, 
 excused herself and left him ! 
 
 Blake stood a moment stunned into silence. 
 "Well, that episode is closed," he reflected. 
 "Now for the other. Damn the women!" 
 clenching his fist. " But there are others ! 
 Lots of 'em ! I seem to need no poultice for 
 any serious wound ! There are brighter eyes 
 elsewhere in my world. No more bread-and-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 207 
 
 butter misses for me. No more high-strung 
 proud women. A woman of the world has 
 sense ; " and pleading that letters peremptorily 
 demanding replies would occupy him, he shut 
 himself in his own rooms. There Tom Burns 
 found him and made his report. 
 
 "Very satisfactory ! Thank you, old fellow. 
 Now dismiss me from your mind, and be sure 
 to be in time, sharp, to-morrow morning. No, 
 you needn't call for me ! I'll come with Nappy. 
 If two of us drive off together, people may sus 
 pect something. Half an hour before the cars 
 leave ? All right. Make it three-quarters at 
 least." 
 
 "Nothing has been said about a physician," 
 said Burns. "We forgot that !" 
 
 Blake answered with a shrug and grimace : 
 "Leave that to old Selden. The more you give 
 him to do, the better he'll like it fussy old 
 party." 
 
 "I was thinking I'd ask Dr. Berkeley." 
 
 "Unthink it, then. Not a word ! Not a 
 breath to living soul or we might be interrupted. 
 Anything but that ! Of course, I've business 
 letters to write and shall not appear again 
 to-day. Don't you go moping about. Dance 
 and behave as usual."
 
 2o8 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 His second, in a state of profound admiration, 
 left him, and followed his advice. He resolved 
 that so noble an example of manly courage and 
 honourable sentiment should never be lost. As 
 to Douglas, the day passed like a dream. From 
 his window he saw Chester and Stanley duly led 
 to the Berkeley cottage for a countermand 
 ing order had been forgotten and as duly 
 dismissed. The Major has been vigilant, he 
 reflected. He spoke to Mrs. Berkeley during 
 the day, and she excused Shirley. "She hopes 
 to see you to-morrow. To-day she needs rest." 
 He wrote to his brother Harry at the University 
 and gave the letter to the Major to be delivered 
 in case of disaster to himself. He referred Harry 
 to Major Selden for all explanations, which were 
 to be made also to Dr. Berkeley, and then com 
 mitting himself and all he loved to the God of 
 his fathers, he slept long and dreamlessly. 
 
 The morning sun rose in all its glory, and as 
 the Major, Douglas, and Dr. Caldwell passed 
 through the Lover's Walk, the thrushes and 
 robins poured out their morning song of praise. 
 A carriage was already, by their orders, waiting 
 near the grounds, but out of sight. Tom Burns, 
 in an agony of excitement, was pacing to and 
 fro. The Doctor touched young Newton's
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 209 
 
 wrist. "Sound as a dollar," he announced, 
 "regular and full." 
 
 The fateful hour was at hand, and Burns cast 
 anxious glances around for his principal. The 
 hour came. Blake had not yet appeared. Fif 
 teen minutes more, no signs of him. Pres 
 ently a steam whistle announced the coming of 
 the Northern-bound train. Ten minutes more 
 and the whistle signalled its departure. 
 
 "We are here on a fool's errand," said Major 
 Selden. "The coward has shirked the fight ! 
 Under no circumstances will we now grant it." 
 
 "I do not renounce allegiance to Mr. Blake 
 nor disown him utterly until further informa 
 tion," said Tom Burns, in a choking voice. "I 
 am here as his representative, and I now offer 
 to meet Mr. Newton in Mr. Blake's place." 
 
 "We have no quarrel with this gentleman," 
 said the Major. " We will now return to our 
 headquarters and seek some refreshment after 
 our morning's disappointment." 
 
 At the hotel it was learned that Mr. Blake 
 had settled his accounts the night before and left 
 in the morning train, leaving no address. 
 
 Douglas would gladly have returned at once 
 to Newton Hall. Apart from his interest in 
 Shirley the gay watering-place, in his present
 
 210 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 state of mind, held no charm for him. He had 
 come prepared to remain if his presence should be 
 needed, but everything was now definitely settled. 
 Blake was utterly extinguished "snuffed out," 
 as Major Selden said. " If he ever shows his face 
 in Virginia, he'll wish he had never been born. 
 It has been the greatest good luck," added the 
 Major, "that only you and I knew the cause of 
 the quarrel. I have been in terror lest somebody 
 should suggest it. Nobody seems to have imag 
 ined it. You had just come, and an old grudge is 
 supposed to have existed between you. The 
 only thing they do know is that a challenge passed 
 between you, and the challenger ran away. Of 
 course young Burns, with all the wish in the 
 world to be prudent, must have unconsciously 
 let some word slip from him, look, gesture 
 something. Then the hack had driven up and 
 driven away ; the driver told all he knew of 
 course. And now here are the warrants from 
 the County Court ! We'll have to go to Lewis- 
 burg to obey them. We broke the laws although 
 there was no fight." 
 
 Confronted with the Judge, the only witnesses 
 
 the Major, Douglas, Dr. Caldwell, and Burns 
 
 declared that they could not incriminate them 
 selves, and therefore could not answer ; and
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 211 
 
 the Judge, as he had often done before on similar 
 occasions, dismissed the case. "I hope," said 
 Dr. Berkeley, "that Newton comes out of this 
 affair unscathed." 
 
 "The result proves it," the Major assured 
 him, "and I think, Charles, I may say that my 
 own participation goes for something. Make 
 yourself easy ! Douglas Newton has the highest 
 place in my esteem, my admiration. I am 
 proud to have served him." 
 
 "I wonder," said Mrs. Berkeley to Shirley, 
 " if Anne Page had anything to do with that quar 
 rel ? Douglas isn't the man to brook any inter 
 ference with his rights." 
 
 " You know as much as I do, Mama ; I was 
 not Anne's confidante." 
 
 "But you might reasonably expect confidence 
 from Douglas." 
 
 " I might but I did not have it. I feel that 
 I know very little of Douglas Newton." 
 
 Something in her tone arrested her mother. 
 "My darling," she said tenderly, "we see too 
 little of each other at this place. All the girls 
 seem so happy, I hope you are, too. Some 
 times I wish I could just look right into that dear 
 little heart of yours ! Is it possible you felt an 
 interest in "
 
 212 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "No, no, Mama darling; I know what you 
 mean. If you look in my heart, you'll find your 
 self in every corner of it and as to my interest 
 in Mr. Blake, I refused him positively, decidedly, 
 the morning before he left. He was very much 
 surprised." 
 
 "And you never told me !" 
 
 "You never asked me, you know. Somehow 
 I never like to tell such things. They are so 
 unpleasant. If a girl has to endure them now 
 and then, she needn't make other people feel 
 badly to hear about them. And I think a man 
 must feel pretty badly, too. I think a girl should 
 always try to avoid hurting the man who has 
 certainly paid her a high compliment, but 
 if he will rush upon his fate, she should do the 
 best she can for him. She ought to keep his se 
 cret as carefully as he keeps it himself. That's 
 all there is about it," she concluded, kissing her 
 mother fondly, and turning away that she might 
 not betray herself. 
 
 The hotel in great excitement had its theories, 
 varying according to the diverse temperaments 
 and experiences of its inmates. 
 
 "I wonder if she had given him the mitten ?" 
 said the lady from Kentucky. 
 
 " Looks like it," said General Robertson. " She
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 213 
 
 might have had a little more consideration. 
 Dancing men are scarce this season. To discard 
 one of them in the middle of August is simply 
 flat burglary." 
 
 "I have a presentiment," said the lady, "that 
 this is going to be an unfortunate season. Some 
 thing more is going to happen before we get away 
 from here. First the old President descends upon 
 us, engrossing everybody's attention, and then 
 these young men absorb everybody ! Attention 
 due the young girls is all directed into other 
 channels. But God forbid I should make you 
 men vainer than you are already ! You don't 
 think small beer of yourselves ! It is occasion 
 for public thanksgiving if one of you gets the 
 mitten. For my own part I did not consider 
 Blake good enough for Shirley Berkeley." 
 
 "Nor I," said the General. "What man is 
 good enough for her ? What man is good enough 
 for any woman ? None that I ever knew. How 
 ever, the Lord made them to match each other. 
 His will be done ! God forbid I should fly in 
 the face of Providence." 
 
 "All of which comes well from you you 
 obstinate, delightful, hopeless old bachelor. But, 
 seriously, you must stand by me, General, and 
 help me. I haven't brought my daughters all
 
 2i 4 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 the way from Kentucky to spend White Sulphur 
 time discussing a possible duel. We'd as well 
 have stayed at home where the duels actually 
 come off ! As soon as we get our breath after 
 this flurry we must have a Bal Poudre with Span 
 ish dances. I can coach Hazazar. I know the 
 Saraband if he doesn't. Do, pray, keep the 
 crowd in a good humour for a while. We must 
 make some effort but I have my presenti 
 ment!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 DOUGLAS NEWTON left the Springs as soon as 
 he was released by the Lewisburg judge. Beyond 
 the casual courtesies of watering-place life and 
 talk, he had held no conversation with Shirley. 
 The duel was, of course, not alluded to. With 
 Dorothea and her little friend, he took one long 
 walk from which Milly was glad to be excused. 
 They explored a neighbouring hillside, gathering, 
 in the most barren places, great stalks of the 
 wonderful mountain primrose, so opulent, so 
 gorgeous ; as though nature, rioting in riches, had 
 defied every untoward circumstance of sterile 
 soil, drought, what not ; bringing into perfec 
 tion scores on scores of great yellow cups, new 
 and glorious every morning, looking as if they 
 had caught the golden sunset glow of the evening. 
 Nothing among the pampered beauties of the 
 most skilled florist could equal these children of 
 desert places. These he had gathered and sent 
 them with his compliments to Mrs. Berkeley 
 his sole attention to her party. 
 
 Douglas was conscious of nothing so much as 
 
 215
 
 216 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 a keen desire to return home that he might for 
 ward the troublesome task before him. From 
 his soul he thanked God that Shirley had been 
 rescued from the perils that threatened her 
 perils brought upon her by his own imprudence ; 
 but of her possible wound in the matter he 
 knew nothing. His heart was very sore, poor 
 fellow. As Dorothea, in their walk, prattled 
 beside him, he heard little except when she 
 appealed to him in her discussions with little 
 Jack. 
 
 "Don't forget to invite me to your wedding, 
 Newton," said the Major, as the men clasped 
 hands at parting. "Let me be second sometime 
 when the principal doesn't run away." 
 
 "May it be soon, my dear Major. But you 
 will be the principal !" 
 
 "Well, you see, my boy, Mary Berkeley decided 
 that matter for me twenty-five years ago. She 
 was a very slight slip of a girl to shape with her 
 little hands a man's life. But that's just what 
 she did for me. You don't suppose Shirley would 
 have me, do you ?" 
 
 "Quien sdbe?" said Douglas. 
 
 The Major held his hand a moment and looked 
 at him thoughtfully. "One thing I do know ! 
 There's no * priory attachment,' as that funny
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 217 
 
 fellow Sam Weller said, no lingering regret for 
 the scoundrel who has been following her all 
 
 summer." 
 
 "How can you know ?" said Douglas. "Can 
 any man know these things ? " 
 
 "Because," said the Major, "she told me her 
 self. I asked her, point blank straight from 
 the shoulder honour bright. 'Twas a 'par 
 lous ' thing for a man to do, and there's many a 
 pretty girl I wouldn't have believed on oath. 
 But, bless her ! She's Mary's daughter, and as 
 clear as crystal. I believe her ! You are not 
 to imagine now I was prospecting for myself. 
 I belong to Mary Hello ! There's your train 
 moving - - jump on ! God bless you." 
 
 Now as Douglas pondered this wonderful reve 
 lation, he reasoned that no gain could come to 
 him through her escape from Blake. Person 
 ally it would mean nothing to him. The 
 Judge's revelation had ended all that. Shirley 
 had given him no sign of interest even. She 
 had treated him with studied coldness. What 
 ever the future held for him, it was borne upon 
 him that the supreme crown and glory of a 
 man's life would be denied him. For, of course, 
 he would never change ! He would strive, as 
 other men had striven, with no reward for en-
 
 2i8 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 deavour or achievement. Imagination antici 
 pated some day when he and the Major both 
 old and grey would meet and compare notes. 
 "And so you would not be warned, my boy !" 
 "No, Major ! We are in the same boat. There 
 has been no other for either of us." 
 
 It was now near the end of August. By 
 October he hoped to finish the irksome transfer 
 of his plantation and personal effects to Harry's 
 adjoining quarters at Cross Roads, which, fortu 
 nately, were reached by a private road. Enough 
 provender for Mr. Benson's cattle to last until 
 the next harvests was to be left behind as 
 well as meat and breadstuffs for his family. 
 There was yet much to be done. Up to the pres 
 ent moment the neighbours had learned nothing 
 of the new arrangement, nor would Mr. Benson 
 be informed as the Judge advised until 
 Douglas had removed his goods from the Beech- 
 wood plantation. 
 
 The best part of a summer's outing is the home 
 coming ! Dr. Berkeley carried a thorn in his 
 bosom. Douglas had not withdrawn it by any, 
 the least, cordiality of manner during his brief 
 stay at the Springs. Mrs. Berkeley, always 
 sensitive to the moods of her husband, felt a 
 vague uneasiness ; Dorothea grieved to part from
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 219 
 
 little Jack, and Shirley's manner evinced effort 
 for the cheerfulness which had been hitherto 
 spontaneous. 
 
 But all clouds passed away before the sunshine 
 of the Colonel's welcoming face, with Primrose, 
 the little cart, and Pizarro, the latter's glitter 
 ing smile, as Aunt Prissy remarked, "stretching 
 from ear to ear and buttoning in the back" 
 and Aunt Prissy herself in the big carriage, with 
 Uncle Peter on the box, driving Brandy and 
 Soda ! Ah ! but it was good to be at home ! 
 Never, never would they leave it again ! 
 
 Dahlias, marigolds, salvia, autumn roses, 
 made glorious the circle in front of the house. 
 Andy, with an overflowing basket, was at the 
 door, old Isham, Hannah, Minerva, Dilsey 
 all at hand with smiles and greeting. Dorothea's 
 arms were instantly around Flora's neck, much 
 to the surprise of two young Floras and their 
 brother, twisting and turning about in ecstasy 
 at the evident good humour of the company; 
 but slinking away crestfallen as Gabriella, with 
 uplifted tail, rounded the corner of the house. 
 The truce with Flora she respected, but it did not 
 extend to another generation, as the puppies 
 knew but too well. 
 
 When Dr. Berkeley looked around his bountiful
 
 220 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 supper-table, his eyes kindled. "If you want 
 my opinion," he declared, "I should say Aunt 
 Prissy grows younger and handsomer everyday ! " 
 
 "And if you ask mine," rejoined the old lady, 
 "I should say you all look as if you had been 
 through the wars. It'll take a month of regular 
 hours to make you decent-looking." 
 
 "How is everybody ?" asked the Doctor, de 
 fiant of grammar rules. "Especially Mrs. Pon- 
 sonby poor old dear ! How she must have 
 missed me !" 
 
 "Mrs. Ponsonby has renewed her youth ! 
 She hasn't had a twinge of gout since you left 
 rode over twice to see me, and was mighty 
 civil to James." And so on, with jest and laugh 
 ter, until they all separated for various interviews 
 with the servants of the household, the Doctor 
 ordering early hours for his travellers and recom 
 mending the same to his Aunt and the Colonel. 
 
 The Doctor rose early next morning to make 
 the rounds of stable and garden before he set 
 forth on his professional errands. He found the 
 gardener spading a sunny border for an autumn 
 planting of new Holland bulbs. 
 
 "Working before breakfast, Andy ? That is 
 not wise. You might send up to Hannah for a 
 cup of coffee."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 221 
 
 "Na, na !" said the gardener. "I hae nowt 
 to do wi' the kitchen stuff. I cook my ain kail- 
 brose and parritch, and Miss Prissy sends me cold 
 meat frae the pantry. I always pit a sprig o' 
 mint in my parritch ; and when I mak it mysel, 
 ne'er a bit is it burned, whilk is mair than can 
 be said, I trow, of some ithers." 
 
 The Doctor was on terms of intimacy with the 
 gardener, whom he had rescued, several years 
 before, from the miseries of a wayside tavern, 
 where he lay with a leg broken in a railway acci 
 dent. The Doctor had set the limb and brought 
 the poor fellow home for treatment. After his 
 recovery, Angus had positively refused to leave ! 
 He was a gardener ! There was the garden, 
 literally crying aloud for intelligent treatment. 
 He took command at once with the firm hand of 
 authority while on his crutches, and worked with 
 wonderful results after they were no longer 
 needed. He was always eager to talk, and Dr. 
 Berkeley often came to have, as Andy said, 
 " a crack wi' an honest Scotchman." 
 
 The Doctor now looked thoughtfully at his 
 bent figure. :< Why don't you go to work, 
 Andy, and try to get yourself a wife ?" he said 
 kindly. 
 
 "An' wha says Angus hasna tried, an' mair
 
 222 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 than ance, an' the last time will be the last 
 time." 
 
 "Come on, Andy, and tell me about it." 
 
 "Weel, then, sin' yer Honour is sae kind, I'll 
 e'en tell ye," said the gardener, leaning on his 
 spade. "Ye .ken I gang twa Sabba-days in ae 
 month to the Presbyterian Kirk yonder, and hae 
 made bold to sit beside a tidy auld lass, wha 
 kindly reads out o' her hymn-beuk wi' me, 
 seein' I havena in mine just the forms o' her ain. 
 Weel, on the Sabba-days atween the twa, I hae 
 been walking ower to hae a spell o' godly conversa 
 tion wi' her at her ain place : an' I hae gi'en her a 
 few peaches, an' kidney-beans, an' new pertaties 
 an* the airly seckle peers frae time to time, as I 
 ken weel yer Honour wadna grudge her. It hae 
 been unco' lanely here, ye ken, this simmer, wi' 
 the creature Isam aye at me for fruit for Miss 
 Prissy's kettles an' the Colonel writin' an' gang 
 ing aboot wi' ne'er a word for Angus or onybody. 
 I'm thinkin' he's writin' a beuk an' - 
 
 "Yes, yes, Andy; get on with the story of 
 your matrimonial venture. I'm in a little hurry, 
 you see, and don't want to miss it." 
 
 "Weel, as I was sayin', ae day the auld lass 
 looked sae dowie an' lanely, I'se up and spier't 
 to her wad she accept a Macgillicuddy tartan,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 223 
 
 wi' a bit mannie in it ? An' for her mair satis 
 faction, I tapped my bosom in the region whare 
 a' body kens the loving heart lives an' beats." 
 
 "And she refused you!" said the Doctor, 
 striving to keep his countenance. "Well, what 
 of it ? Don't despair ! Try again." 
 
 "Na, na ! She said eneugh for a' time, I'se 
 warrand. She ups wi' the broom an' skirled for 
 me to 'clear out,' whate'er that may mean. 
 We hae nae sic language in Scotland." 
 
 "And you bowed yourself out accordingly?" 
 
 " I hadna time to bow ! Ye sud a seen auld 
 Angus speel ower the hedge like a maukin ! It's 
 weel ye mendit his brukken leg ! Nae time for 
 the gate ! whilk is always tied wi' a rope. 
 She needna hae been sae spunkie ! She's a 
 daughter, I trow, o' the first gardener; an' a 
 Macgillicuddy was wi' the Bruce, I can tell 'er. 
 I can gie her a Roland for her Oliver, I'se be 
 bound ! Oliver, indeed ! " and he began to spade 
 with zeal born of his indignation. 
 
 "'Oliver'? Andy! Why, surely" 
 
 "E'en sae Miss Betty Oliver, they ca' her, 
 and Betty Oliver she may remain for a' Angus !" 
 
 "Oh, Andy, Andy ! that was a dreadful mis 
 take ! I wish I had been here to prevent it." 
 
 " I doubt ye couldna ! I hae mair sense the
 
 224 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 noo. Hindsight is mair convincin' than fore 
 sight when a's told ; but how can ye win to it ? 
 Ye maun e'en dree yer ain weird an' bide by 
 it, an' sae maun Angus !" 
 
 The Doctor's first professional visit after an 
 absence was always to old Mrs. Ponsonby, the 
 grande dame par excellence of the neighbourhood. 
 
 Mrs. Ponsonby lived in a large old-fashioned 
 house, every brick of which, she was fain to be 
 lieve, had been brought from England. Had 
 she been thoroughly honest with herself she 
 would have acknowledged that at heart she was 
 still a Tory. She rebelled with all her soul 
 against Mr. Jefferson's Democratic teachings, 
 believed that everybody should know and keep 
 his own place in the social system, be kindly 
 treated therein, but rebuked if he presumed to 
 leave it. Woe be to the unlucky aspirant for 
 genealogical rights to a place in the first families ! 
 Should he venture to assume, unwarranted, a 
 pheon or garb or mascle on his seal, the purloined 
 symbol would be promptly challenged by the 
 terribly accurate old lady. Sustained by the 
 sheriff's lists of Thomas Fuller, which she 
 kept at hand upon her library table, she 
 would make impossible any future use of them. 
 "Why," she would indignantly exclaim, "should
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 225 
 
 Americans allow a fraud punishable by Eng 
 lish laws as a felony ?" 
 
 Withal Mrs. Ponsonby was an agreeable, in 
 telligent, and amiable companion ; admired, 
 although somewhat feared by her neighbours. 
 Her conversation with her accustomed visitors 
 was very much on the "Shakespeare and musical 
 glasses" order, never descending to the ordinary 
 gossip of the hour, but she keenly enjoyed it 
 all the same, and rejoiced that she could unbend 
 with Dr. Berkeley and learn as much from him 
 as he could condescend to know himself. How 
 ever reserved we may be to others, to our physi 
 cian and our confessor we can wear no disguises, 
 and the Doctor was both to his old patient. 
 
 But although Mrs. Ponsonby was reckoned 
 by her own class as somewhat "stiff," to say the 
 least, she was all kindness to the poor. Her 
 bountiful baskets reached far and near. She 
 never went abroad without rilling the pockets 
 of her high-swung chariot with cakes and fruit 
 for the barefoot little boys on the highway. 
 Many of the haughty dames of every age have 
 bristled with repellent manner to their own class 
 and been angels of kindness to the poor and 
 humble. Ah ! there lies the subtle wile of the 
 tempter, -- "humble." It is not supposed that 
 Q
 
 226 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 the humble man will ever presume to be an equal ! 
 There is a positive pleasure let who will deny 
 it in looking down. " I am not as other men," 
 for which the Lord is reverently thanked. The 
 well-born man or woman who is "in reduced cir 
 cumstances," who "has known better days," is 
 never at heart "humble," and therefore theirs is 
 the bitterer lot. Robert Hall reckons that man 
 the truest object of compassion who has known 
 happier days : "for in addition to the pangs of 
 poverty he suffers the stings of an outraged sen 
 sibility." Had this point of view been ever pre 
 sented to Mrs. Ponsonby she would have con 
 sidered it, and profited by it, acted upon it, 
 for she was sternly upright, and a devout 
 churchwoman. Her position was mainly the 
 result of an inherited respect for law and estab 
 lished order, and for the suitableness and sym 
 metry of the relations of men and things, the 
 one to the other. She was, moreover, a staunch 
 believer in the folly of measuring a meat-axe 
 with a Damascus blade, or of casting one's pearls 
 before swine. A certain well-bred, benevolent 
 reserve should rule unavoidable intercourse with 
 one's porcine neighbours. She would have 
 thoroughly understood Sir Hugo Mallinger : 
 " My dear boy, it is good to be unselfish and
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 227 
 
 generous ; but don't carry that too far. It will 
 not do to give yourself to be melted down for 
 the benefit of the tallow trade." 
 
 Had our old Dame been less eager to meet 
 her beloved physician, she would have received 
 him on her lounge with her India shawl over her 
 gouty feet. As it was she met him, with the 
 shawl over her shoulders, at the door, and even 
 descended, aided by her cane and her old butler, 
 the steps of the veranda. 
 
 "Well, now ! I call this absolutely insulting 
 of you," exclaimed the Doctor, as he dismissed 
 "Israel" and gave his arm to his old friend, 
 "to get well while I am away ! I never saw 
 you looking as fine !" 
 
 "I wish I could say as much for you, Charles ! 
 Why is it that, do what you will, you Berkeleys 
 get as thin as knife-blades ?" 
 
 "Like our razorback pigs ? Because 'it is 
 our nature to' -as the verse goes on to say, 
 'for God has made us so !" 
 
 "Well, I'm glad to see what there is of you ! 
 A mint-julep for the Doctor, Israel ! I was 
 about to send out to old Jacob to hitch me up 
 for a drive to the Castle. I was going to be the 
 first to felicitate Shirley. I heard of the hand 
 some young Englishman ! Of course you've
 
 228 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 learned all about his family ! It will be fine to 
 see Shirley mistress of 
 
 "Oh! Dear me! Not so fast!" And the 
 Doctor proceeded to tell, according to his 
 lights, the story of the duel. Mrs Ponsonby 
 listened with keen interest. "Are you sure it 
 wasn't young Newton's fault ? you remember, 
 Charles, - 
 
 "No, no ! Newton behaved well. Harry Sel- 
 den is guarantee for that. Shirley's name, 
 thank God, did not appear. Blake had paid 
 her too much attention, but she had nothing 
 of that I feel sure to do with the affair, no 
 part whatever. By the bye, Shirley is to spend 
 Christmas at the White House by the President's 
 and Mrs. Taylor's urgent invitation." 
 
 "I would he were a gentleman !" sighed the 
 old lady. "Why, why couldn't we have had 
 Winfield Scott ! There's a man for you ! And 
 Mrs. Scott such a high-bred woman. Oh ! 
 these Democrats ! Oh, I know the Whigs elected 
 him, but they are all tarred with the same stick ! 
 ' Level down, level down,' that's their motto. 
 I suppose, after this visit is over, Shirley need not 
 see more of the Taylors. I know what you want 
 to say ! Not a bit of it ! They'll never take 
 on even a thin veneer of polish and breeding.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 229 
 
 White House manners will slip off of them like 
 an outer garment, and plain, old Zachary Tay 
 lor be his homespun self again." 
 
 "Well, shall I tell Shirley she mustn't go ?" 
 "Oh, by no means ! Let the child see the 
 'Republican Court,' and then take her to Lon 
 don next season. She will discriminate draw 
 her own conclusions never fear. Trust a 
 Berkeley for that ! " And so on, until her visitor 
 was compelled to leave, having had no time to 
 listen to an account of her " symptoms " as de 
 veloped during the dry season.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE home-coming set in motion all the wheels 
 of the busy domestic life of the family; the 
 storing of fruits for the winter, the manufacture 
 into garments of the warm linsey-woolsey and 
 jeans for many servants, which had been woven 
 on the plantation during the summer, the fre 
 quent entertainment of welcoming neighbours 
 and friends. The preoccupied expression on the 
 Doctor's face was unnoticed that was usual ; 
 the silence and long walks alone of the Colonel 
 awakened no surprise or comment. Everybody 
 was busy with the duties of the hour. Shirley 
 had been claimed by Anne Page and had gone 
 on a series of short visits. Her friends thought 
 her very "serious for a girl," but wonderfully 
 improved in health and beauty. They were 
 eagerly curious to learn about Douglas's quarrel 
 with Blake, which had become public prop 
 erty by the action of the Lewisburg judge. 
 Shirley, knowing nothing, could not enlighten 
 them. 
 
 330
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 231 
 
 September ripened into October. There was 
 a new message in the air. Flocks of black- 
 plumaged birds convened for chattering consul 
 tation perhaps for autumnal elections of a 
 leader on open spaces in the reaped wheat- 
 fields ; the old negroes watched the skies for the 
 prophetic flights of wild geese; the long swords 
 in the "martial ranks of corn" rustled with a 
 promise of surrender; new odours were borne 
 on the breeze ; the prolonged crescendo and 
 diminuendo of the grasshopper filled the air. 
 The farmer began to investigate the condition of 
 his hunting apparatus, and the dogs to prick up 
 expectant ears. An early frost might, it was 
 true, spoil a few flowers or nip the leaf of a 
 neglected tobacco plant, but it would bring the 
 glories of the autumnal hunting. Any morning 
 now, the Beechwood pack of thirty trained 
 hounds might be expected to start a red fox, and 
 flash across the country with full cry, to be 
 joined by neighbours and dogs, in the first 
 glorious hunt. 
 
 With the pine-needles under their feet, crisp 
 with frost, little Pizarro and Flora went every 
 morning for the mails. The boy, duly impressed 
 with the responsibility of his office, and the 
 sacredness of his promise to be led away no more
 
 232 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 by a "little squir'l" or any other game, found 
 himself beset cruelly with temptation. One 
 morning, as he trudged along, it seemed to him 
 that every rabbit in the wood saw fit to flash his 
 cotton-tail across his path, and he was kept busy 
 controlling Flora, whose principles were extremely 
 weak on such occasions. Finally Flora stopped 
 short, froze into marble, and stood with stiff, 
 outstretched tail and uplifted forefoot. Before 
 he could think, Pizarro had warned in a low 
 tone, " Take heed take heed," and Flora quiv 
 ered with expectation of the final "Hie on!" 
 which would permit her to plunge into the 
 bushes and send the partridge aloft on whirring 
 wing. To her amazement, the boy rebuked her 
 angrily. 
 
 "Come 'ere d'rectly, you fool ! Drap dat 
 tail ! Drap it, I say ! Put down dat foot and 
 come along 'bout yo' business. What de 
 Cunnel gwine say when I tell 'im on you ?" 
 
 Meanwhile Dr. Berkeley was again on his 
 veranda, walking impatiently to and fro, and 
 sweeping, with his glass, the avenue leading to 
 the main road. "Here he comes at last," he 
 announced, " and not alone ! Bless my soul ! 
 Why, this is Saladin, and Sandy is leading two 
 other horses."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 233 
 
 This brought the family from the breakfast- 
 room to the front. Pizarro approached, big 
 with importance, and announced that Sandy had 
 come with two ponies and asked leave to bring 
 them around the circle to the door. One proved 
 to be a beautiful young mare, bearing a lady's 
 saddle and bridle ; the other, a brisk little pony 
 with big eyes and a shaggy mane, saddled and 
 bridled for a child. Sandy surrendered the reins 
 to Pizarro, and with the negro's respectful salu 
 tation pulling his forelock and scraping his 
 foot backward presented to Dr. Berkeley 
 two letters and a small parcel with his master's 
 compliments. One letter was brief: 
 
 MY DEAR DR. BERKELEY : 
 
 After my conversation with you in June, I visited Judge 
 Watkins. As a result of my visit, I have made a gift in fee 
 simple of the Beechwood estate to Mr. Benson and he is 
 now living on the place. 
 
 When you receive this, I shall be at sea on my way to 
 California. 
 
 With your permission, I send a small souvenir to the 
 ladies and to Dorothea, and am, my dear Doctor, 
 
 Respectfully yours, 
 
 DOUGLAS NEWTON. 
 
 The other letter ran thus :
 
 234 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 MY DEAR COUSIN MARY, 
 
 I am sorry I cannot say good-bye in person before I 
 leave for California. 
 
 I venture to ask your acceptance of a little brooch once 
 worn by my Mother, your cousin, and I send a chain 
 with my love to Miss Prissy. She knew my Mother and 
 can remember her, as I do, wearing this chain. 
 
 I have trained a pony Trixey for my dear little 
 Dorothea. Do not fear to let her ride him. He is very 
 docile and affectionate. 
 
 And I also venture to send a gentle, perfectly kind mare 
 to Miss Shirley. She will not need to stoop to open a gate, 
 the mare will take it easily and safely. If Miss Shirley 
 will whisper her name Bonnibell (bonne et belle} in her ear, 
 she will remember her old master. 
 
 With my grateful remembrance always, I am 
 
 Your cousin, 
 
 DOUGLAS. 
 
 This astounding news read aloud was for a 
 moment received in silence. Mrs. Berkeley 
 and Miss Prissy opened the little packages 
 directed to them, and tears filled their eyes as 
 the jewels were revealed. "Dear Fanny ! How 
 well I remember her in this pearl brooch," said 
 Mrs. Berkeley. 
 
 "Poor child !" said Miss Prissy. "A sweeter
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 235 
 
 girl never lived than Fanny Bland ! I can see 
 her now when Henry gave her this chain 
 after Douglas was born. Look, James ! Here 
 are the dents all along in the filigree, where 
 Douglas cut his teeth on it. Well do I remem 
 ber how she laughed when Henry scolded her 
 for letting him spoil it. Dear, dear ! What does 
 it all mean, Charles ? v 
 
 The Doctor was deeply distressed, and turned 
 to look for Shirley, with a meaning look at his 
 Aunt, but Shirley had fled to her own room. 
 The elders could discuss the matter later, but 
 not in the presence of the children. Dorothea, 
 dancing with delight, had run in to Isham for 
 lumps of sugar, and with her arm around 
 Trixey's neck, a perfect understanding was 
 reached in a few minutes. She called to the 
 Colonel in ecstasy to look. "He isn't a bit 
 afraid of me, Cousin James. Hasn't he lovely 
 eyes ? " 
 
 "Poor Primrose," said the Colonel, ruefully. 
 
 "No, no!" said Dorothea, "I can have two 
 people to love Douglas and you, and two 
 horses, Trixey and Primrose." 
 
 "We are second already not first," moaned 
 the Colonel, with mock distress. But Dorothea 
 was galloping down the avenue with flying curls,
 
 236 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 and turning at the gate, was coming in fine 
 style on the home stretch. Sandy looked on in 
 glee, but felt the beautiful mare had not been 
 appreciated. 
 
 "Dish yer's one o' Diomed's fillies," he said 
 proudly, patting her shoulder. "She got sense 
 same as folks. Nobody ain' train 'er but Marse 
 Douglas, he se'f." The boy looked away with 
 quivering lip, and the Doctor, too much over 
 come for words, turned him over to Milly for 
 refreshment and comfort. 
 
 Poor Shirley, struggling for self-command in 
 her own room, felt that she was enveloped in a 
 cloud of mystery. She had not understood 
 Douglas during his visit, less at the Springs, least 
 of all now. Why had he sold Beechwood ? 
 Why had he gone to California ? Last of all, 
 why, why could not she, Shirley, thrust him out 
 from her own heart, her constant thoughts, her 
 prayers. Her prayers ? Never ! Whether he 
 belonged to Anne or not, she, they, all of us, 
 belonged to God, and to God the sorely tried 
 girl confided herself and him, imploring love, 
 mercy, and protection. 
 
 She was ready in an hour to return, serene 
 and comforted, to her family. 
 
 "Where is my gallant steed ?" she asked.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 237 
 
 "Have you given her some breakfast? Saddle 
 her and bring her out, Pizarro." 
 
 With a bright glance at the Colonel, she bent 
 her lips to the mare's ear, "Your master says 
 you must love me Bonnibell," she whis 
 pered, and instantly, with a soft whinny, the 
 mare knelt to receive her burden. Shirley 
 sped away, bare-head, down the avenue. 
 
 "By George!" exclaimed the Doctor, "she 
 has taken the gate like a bird. There she goes 
 up the road ! Look ! She is back over the 
 gate again." 
 
 "What do you make of it, Charley?" asked 
 the Colonel, "this extraordinary conduct of 
 Douglas Newton's ? I had supposed him sin 
 gularly free from the auri sacra fames of Virgil." 
 
 The poor Doctor shook his head. Nothing 
 could have induced him to betray the secret that 
 burdened his bosom. Others might be at a 
 loss to account for the sudden flight of the young 
 man, --he could understand it. Sensitive, 
 wounded, unable to meet the eyes of his 
 fellows. It was too sad. 
 
 The October Court brought together all the 
 men of the county. Before the Court opened, 
 and during recess, nothing was so much dis 
 cussed not even the price of tobacco as
 
 238 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "young Newton's sale of Beechwood." Wing- 
 field, the overseer, found himself important. 
 No oyster in its shell could have been more 
 hopelessly inaccessible than Wingfield to hints, 
 clever leading, downright questioning. Was it 
 true that Mr. Newton no longer owned Beech- 
 wood ? "True there was Mr. Benson ask 
 him." That experiment, however, was not 
 to be considered. Was it true that both boys 
 would live at the Cross Roads ? Ah ! that 
 Wingfield himself did not know. He only 
 knew that he was overseer there, and expected 
 to put in a heavy crop next year. 
 
 That Douglas should have caught the gold 
 fever surprised every one. True, he had been a 
 traveller not yet "settled down," not yet 
 learned, said the older men, that those would 
 "prosper best who pursued the even tenor of 
 plodding industry and professional learning, 
 unaffected by insane schemes of hoarding up 
 masses of the shining ore." 
 
 This wisdom, designed for the young men, fell 
 upon unheeding ears. The sacra fames had 
 smitten "mankind from China to Peru." Midas 
 had touched the sands of the Sierras and 
 bathed in a Western Pactolus. All the nations 
 of the earth had gathered in one little corner of
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 239 
 
 the globe, to dig the sands and dredge the 
 river. Said a contemporary journalist: "Punch 
 itself has allowed Lord Brougham a respite 
 from caricature, and instead of weekly repro 
 ductions of his checked breeches and his remark 
 able nose, brings out prints of the gold diggings 
 with the emigrants that are flocking thereto." 
 At a recent representation of l Robert le Diable ' 
 in a little town in France celebrated for its 
 white wines and its red politics, an apology was 
 made for the absence of the tenor who was to 
 sing 'L'Or est une Chimere !' He had 'gone off 
 to the gold region' ! In the remote islands of 
 Oceanica the voice of the missionary was mute. 
 His before-time hearers had listened to the 
 voice of a siren who told of enchanted lands 
 nearer than heaven. All races of men, however 
 divided or differing in physical characteristics, 
 had agreed with the fellow in Beranger's song : 
 
 " Que dans mes mains pleuve de 1'or, 
 De 1'or, 
 De 1'or, 
 Et j'en fais mon affaire ! "
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 As the autumn wore on, Shirley attached her 
 self more and more closely to the Colonel. On 
 fine days they were much in the saddle ; for 
 Shirley was nowhere so happy as when borne by 
 the beautiful Bonnibell. She made brief visits 
 to her neighbours, accompanied always by the 
 Colonel, sometimes by Dorothea and Trixey. 
 
 On one afternoon, Shirley and her cavalier 
 had found, a long way from home, a road new to 
 them, and she proposed they should explore it. 
 It entered a dense wood, and for many miles 
 no opening or building appeared. A dark cloud 
 came up, and the pretty, sensitive mare crouched 
 at the lightning and thunderclaps. "We must 
 get out of the wood as soon as possible," said the 
 Colonel, as the wind rose and the sky darkened. 
 He took Shirley's bridle and urged the horses to 
 the utmost ; but as the tempest roared around 
 them and rain began to descend, prepared to 
 lift her from the saddle and find shelter under the 
 thick undergrowth, : anxiously conscious, how 
 ever, of the fact that there could be no escape 
 
 240
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 241 
 
 from the deadly lightning. The next flash 
 revealed a log house just before them, and leav 
 ing the horses to follow, the Colonel, in the 
 blinding rain, took Shirley in his arms and 
 rushed to the door, which opened as he pushed 
 against it. 
 
 " Come in, come in ! How wet you are ! 
 Why, surely this is Miss Berkeley and Colonel 
 Jones !" 
 
 "And you are Alice Fontaine ! How delight 
 ful ! " exclaimed Shirley. 
 
 "Alice Winston now, you know!" 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the Colonel. "How fortu 
 nate we are to find you and Mr. Winston. He 
 is well, I hope." 
 
 "Lewis has gone down to Lynchburg on busi 
 ness, and will not return until to-morrow." 
 
 "And you here alone?" 
 
 "Not quite ! Here is little Viny and Carlo," 
 and a big dog rose from his place on the hearth 
 and came forth, wagging welcome, while "little 
 Viny," a small negro girl, drew forward the 
 two or three chairs the cabin afforded. Mean 
 while, the Colonel had gone out, and led the 
 horses under a recently vacated shelter a 
 rude substitute for a stable made of planks laid 
 over posts. They had stumbled upon the home
 
 242 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 of Lewis Winston, who had hidden in Mrs. 
 Fontaine's cedar summer-house last June, while 
 he waited for pretty Alice to dress in her maid's 
 clothes and elope with him. The opposition to 
 the marriage on the part of her parents had been 
 because of his utter poverty ; and indignant at 
 the selfishness he had exhibited by tempting 
 their young daughter to share that poverty, her 
 parents had sent her clothing after her, but 
 declined to receive him. Without him she had 
 refused to return. He had proudly withdrawn 
 to the plantation of one of his college friends, 
 and in the forest had built this rude cabin for his 
 bride. It was unplastered, the front room fur 
 nished only with a small "cupboard," a table, 
 and a few chairs. Kitchen utensils were on the 
 broad hearth. "Little Viny" kindled a fire 
 in the wide chimney, and Shirley and the 
 Colonel were soon dry and comfortable. 
 
 'Now, Viny, we must make some coffee," said 
 the pretty hostess, and the little black produced 
 a coffee-mill, while her mistress measured, in a 
 tin cup, berries which she took from a canister 
 on the rude mantel-shelf. "Lewis says I can 
 make splendid coffee ! And I have some biscuits ! 
 Lewis says my biscuits are better than Mother's. 
 Can you manage without butter ? Viny's
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 243 
 
 mother lives near, and if it wasn't raining so 
 hard, I might borrow some from her." 
 
 She was moving about while she spoke, 
 extracting from the cupboard plates, cups and 
 saucers, and a tiny sugar-bowl. "Perhaps you 
 will miss the cream ! Lewis says coffee is better 
 without it more wholesome and digestible." 
 
 Always "Lewis!" The slight girlish figure 
 was gowned in the simplest house dress of dark 
 print, but she was lovely ! Shirley's eyes rested 
 upon her with adoration. On a shelf were 
 books a dozen or more. Among them the 
 Colonel found some old favourites, and he took 
 them down, one by one, his face eloquent with 
 feeling. "Ah, my masters !" he thought, "how 
 you bless the world, from the palace to the 
 cabin!" 
 
 "I'm glad you like Lewis's books," said Mis 
 tress Alice; "he intends to have a library some 
 day." 
 
 She presided over her tea-cups with true 
 hospitality, making no embarrassing allusions 
 to the many deficiencies of her menage. All the 
 talk was bright and cheery nor was the cheer 
 fulness forced. Mrs. Winston was evidently 
 not only contented she was a very happy 
 woman.
 
 244 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 The storm was passing away, and the thunder 
 growling and grumbling in the distance, but 
 Shirley was reluctant to leave. "I might beg 
 for you all night, if I could make you comfort 
 able," Mrs. Winston said regretfully. "I hate 
 to lose you." 
 
 " You cannot lose me ! I shall come again 
 Cousin James and I and little Dorothea. Mama 
 will come, and Aunt Prissy ! And then you will 
 have a great many visits to pay at Berkeley 
 Castle." 
 
 "Accept this little book as a souvenir of the 
 nice time you have given me. Lewis will be so 
 sorry he missed you," she said as she put a small 
 morocco-bound volume of poems in Shirley's 
 hands. 
 
 The Colonel and Shirley galloped home at 
 an extra pace Primrose and Bonnibell had had 
 no coffee and biscuits. The Colonel was deeply 
 grieved for his young hostess. "What a sad, 
 sad coming down for that exquisite daughter of 
 Major Fontaine's ! How could Winston have 
 been so recklessly selfish ?" 
 
 "She seems happy," Shirley hastened to 
 remind him. 
 
 " Ah ! Women are such angels ! All the 
 more he should have waited. Such poverty
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 245 
 
 such small hope for the future ! And she reared 
 in luxury ! Think of her sordid toil, her lone 
 liness when he is absent. Think of next winter 
 in that isolated cabin." 
 
 "I envy her more than any one in the world," 
 Shirley surprised him by exclaiming. 
 
 "Why, she lives a life of the sternest priva 
 tion !" 
 
 "Ah, but remember ! She is helping him to 
 bear his lot. She is able to make his life his 
 life of poverty beautiful ! What would it be 
 without her ? Could she have borne to be fortu 
 nate and happy, and he poor and miserable ?" 
 and the Colonel worshipped her more de 
 voutly than ever. 
 
 She was a spirited figure, erect upon her 
 beautiful mare, and she turned an animated 
 face to him as she spoke. The Colonel, how 
 ever, was deeply concerned for the slight 
 young woman in the cabin. 
 
 "I trust Winston has gone to Lynchburg to 
 seek employment there. He has no profession. 
 Surely he must realize what all this means for 
 her ! The Major must send for his daughter 
 and take care of her until her husband can keep 
 her decently." 
 
 "She would never go ! Oh, you don't under-
 
 246 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 stand, Cousin James ! All women are not 
 merely dolls to be dressed and admired, or 
 pretty children to be amused ! It is nice to 
 have lovely things, I know that well, but 
 the grandest thing in all the world must be to 
 make somebody you love," - she faltered, and 
 the enraptured Colonel marked the flushed 
 cheek, "somebody that loves you, supremely 
 happy." 
 
 But there could be no further conversation 
 on these lofty topics. The horses were urged 
 to their utmost speed, for the branches of the 
 trees had showered Shirley so plentifully that her 
 linen habit was thoroughly wetted. When they 
 reached their entrance gate, the Colonel laid 
 a restraining hand on BonnibelPs bridle, the 
 earth was too soft and slippery for a leap. As 
 they passed through, he called Shirley's atten 
 tion to fresh wheel-tracks on the avenue. "We 
 shall probably find the house full," he said, "and 
 you are wet through and through. You must 
 run right in to your own room." 
 
 The Doctor met them with a similar order. 
 "We have Mrs. Dancey and all her children, 
 blown in by the storm. Don't think of seeing 
 them, Shirley ! Get right out of your wet 
 clothes and into your bed. I'll send you a
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 247 
 
 powder to take, and you are not to appear to 
 night. I'll send Milly to you." 
 
 Shirley, chill and shivering, was not loth to 
 obey. Dried and warmed by the vigorous rub 
 bing of her old nurse, she lay in delicious com 
 fort and reviewed the events, vivified by her 
 imagination, of the afternoon. Her dreams 
 were finally interrupted by the cheery voice of 
 Miss Prissy, followed by the entrance of the lady 
 herself. 
 
 "Ah, Shirley ! In bed ? Are you sick or 
 only shamming?" 
 
 "Neither ! I am naughty ! I went out in the 
 rain and wet my frock. Do you suppose I am 
 to have no supper ?" 
 
 "By and by, perhaps. I shouldn't wonder 
 if special prisoner's fare is being prepared for 
 you." 
 
 She leaned on the foot-rail of the bed and ad 
 mired her niece as she lay, with bright eyes and 
 flushed cheeks, among her ruffled pillows, the 
 pure oval of her face framed by the soft frill of 
 a cap under the full crown of which she had 
 gathered her brown hair. Little curlets peeped 
 out here and there, caressing her long, white 
 throat. American women all wore nightcaps 
 until Eugene Sue described the beauty of tress
 
 248 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 and ringlet of one of his heroines was it not 
 Adrienne in the " Mysteries of Paris " ? due, he 
 declared, to the fact that she had never prisoned 
 them under a cap. Off came the nightcaps of 
 the Western-world women. Their pretty affairs 
 of lace and muslin were cut up to cover pincush 
 ions or dress the dolls of their little sisters. I 
 know of one only that survives, as a curious relic 
 of the dark ages. 
 
 Shirley, on her part, was struck by the un 
 usual smartness of her Aunt's attire. "Why, 
 you have on your green silk and black lace ! 
 You have no idea how nice you look ! " 
 
 "I have, my dear ! I saw myself in the pier- 
 glass full length. You see I had an ignoble 
 desire to impress Mrs. Dancey. She is here, 
 you know, with all her five children. She goes 
 to-morrow to spend the day with Betty Oliver 
 and have herself fitted. She could very well 
 have gone on this evening, but she means that 
 you and Mary shall tell her the fashions." 
 
 " I ought to get up and help Mama." 
 
 "You daren't ! Your father would send you 
 back to bed again. Young Tom is of the party. 
 Dorothea has risen to the occasion. She has 
 brought out her Noah's Ark, her jackstraws, 
 and dominoes for the four children, and chal-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 249 
 
 lenged the young man to a game of draughts. 
 It is funny to see how she avoids looking at him. 
 His freckled face and red hair seem comical to 
 her, and she is afraid she will laugh." 
 
 "Poor little darling ! I wish I could help with 
 Mr. Tom." 
 
 "Oh, he will get through the evening. I shall 
 keep the talk away from the neighbourhood 
 gossip Mrs. Dancey will have that, plenty, 
 at Betty's. I'm delighted you are not to the 
 fore. Why should you let yourself down for 
 her amusement ?" 
 
 "As well as for you and Mama !" 
 
 "Not at all. We can take care of ourselves. 
 I dressed expressly to impress Mrs. Dancey 
 and keep her off Mary. Besides," added the 
 old lady, whimsically, "I'm not above wishing 
 to make a creditable showing for my own sake. I 
 know I am to be discussed in the neighbourhood 
 round of visits she is making, so I brought out 
 my lace and Levantine silk, and my cameo pin 
 and bracelet. I can hear her: 'Mrs. Berke 
 ley is wonderfully well-preserved, but poor Miss 
 Prissy!' By the bye, why do we never hear 
 it said of an old maid that she is * preserved* ? 
 Probably * pickled' would suit us better." 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Prissy ! How delightful you are,"
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Shirley laughed ; and her Aunt, having gained 
 a certain point she had in mind, hastened to 
 follow it up. "James tells me you had an ad 
 venture this afternoon explored a labyrinth 
 and found fair Rosamond." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Shirley, eagerly. "Wasn't 
 it romantic ? The storm, the hut in the woods, 
 and finding the lovely lady. Her story all 
 through is so charming reminds one of days 
 of old, and knights and chivalry doesn't 
 it ?" 
 
 "Hardly," said Miss Prissy, drily. "I have 
 a great love for the old knights of romance 
 beautiful, gallant fellows, pricking forth on their 
 caparisoned palfreys ; winning everything in 
 war, in tournament, in courts of king and courts 
 of love. I like all their ways " 
 
 "They ran away with fair ladies some 
 times," Shirley reminded her; "picked them up 
 at the masque or wherever they found them." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," her Aunt assented warmly. 
 "At the masque when the dance was at its mazi 
 est, and the mirth at its maddest, a whisper 
 in her ear, a slip out of a low window, a foot 
 on the stirrup, and up he swings her to his 
 pillion, and crosses the border before she is 
 missed."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 251 
 
 Shirley nodded radiantly, half rising from her 
 pillow, but subsided again as her Aunt con 
 tinued : 
 
 "That sounds fine to me ! But fancy Sir 
 Galahad hiding in the bushes and bribing the 
 house-dog with a sausage, while fair Imogene or 
 Ermentrude dons linsey-woolsey and slinks 
 through the house with a pail on her head ! 
 That's more like Darby and Joan than knight 
 and ladye." 
 
 "Ah, don't spoil it !" sighed Shirley. 
 
 "Well, I won't, my dear ! Here comes Milly 
 with your supper. And a fine rose on the waiter. 
 That looks like the Colonel's doing!" 
 
 "Marse Jeems was waitin' for me at the dinin'- 
 room do'. He was cuttin' the thorns off this 
 little rose with his penknife. He says he's 
 feared this is the las' rose befo' fros'." 
 
 "Well, good-night, Shirley ! Take care of 
 her, Milly. I'm off to the post of duty." 
 
 "I has my orders," said Milly, with dignity. 
 "She's to take a powder one hour after she eat 
 her supper. I got to keep her awake ontwel 
 she take it." 
 
 "A red, red rose and the last," whispered 
 Shirley, as she put it to her lips. 
 
 "You better eat yo' waffles befo' they git
 
 252 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 cole," said Milly. "I ain't bring you nothin' 
 but a partridge and some milk." 
 
 "I'm terribly hungry," said Shirley. 
 
 " I can't help it ! You won't git no mo' to 
 night. I let you drink all the water you want. 
 What bothers me is I'm feared you'll go to sleep 
 befo' I can give you the powder." 
 
 "I willy unless you are agreeable. Tell me 
 a good story. Don't stop talking a minute." 
 
 "Does you mind the light ? I can blow out 
 the candle, well as not. I kin knit Simple 
 Sam's sock jus' as well in the dark. He baig 
 Miss Mary to have his socks knit this winter 
 'thout no heel because he say his socks always 
 w'ar out in the heel ! You needn't laugh ! He 
 did, an' what's mo', yo' Ma says I must knit 
 'em straight to humour him. The creeter ain' 
 got much sense, but he know what he wants 
 that's what your Ma says." 
 
 Shirley had no objection to the light, and, 
 having finished her meal, and coveting nothing 
 so much as an uninterrupted hour for her own 
 fancies, urged Milly to begin her story. "What 
 about Mrs. Dancey ?" she asked, by way of an 
 entering wedge. 
 
 "Brer Silas say they been 'tending a big, dis 
 tracted meetin' at Simpson's Grove, close by
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 253 
 
 Mrs. Dancey's husband's sister-in-law she 
 that was Patsy Perkins. Is you listening Miss 
 Shirley?" 
 
 "Certainly, 'attending a protracted meet 
 ing,' that is very interesting. Never mind 
 about Patsy Perkins." 
 
 "Brer Silas say 'twas the po'est meetin' he 
 ever 'tended. The preachin' was fyarly good, 
 but they couldn't git nobody under conviction 
 of sin. No mo'ners on the mo'ners' bench. 
 Brer Silas, he hope the good seed has fell in the 
 groun' an' will spring up some time and bar 
 fruit. Brer Silas is a mighty nice man, 
 even if he is kerridge-driver to half-strainers." 
 
 "Under conviction ?" asked Shirley. "What 
 do you mean by 'under conviction' ?" 
 
 "Sholy, chile, you can't git religion onless 
 you has conviction. You got to suffer and sor 
 row and give up befo' you can git converted." 
 
 "No, no, Mammy ! God loves us as soon as 
 we are born, and nothing can separate us from 
 His love. He commands us to believe that." 
 
 "That may do fer you and your Ma, chile, 
 but it won't do fer cullud folks. I know thar's 
 mor'n one path to heaven. We can't all walk 
 together. Thar's prayin', now ! Cullud folks 
 speaks right from der hearts to Gawd A'Mighty,
 
 254 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 but yo'-all got time to look in the book for the 
 right words to say. I ain' sayin' nothin' erginst 
 the book, it's all good, but I got religion 
 mighty different from yo'-all ways." 
 
 "Tell me about it begin at the beginning." 
 "Twas fo' you was born. I was a likely 
 young gal about house, an* could dance mighty 
 nigh twel daybreak an' wuk jus' as good next 
 day. We hadn't had a distracted meetin' or 
 camp-meetin' for ever so Jong, twel at las' one 
 come to Poplar Spring, not fur from here an' 
 near the ole meetin'-house. They built arbours 
 full of benches close to the house, and riz a tent 
 fo' tables. We went over every mornin' with a 
 sight of cooked vittles chickens briled and 
 fried, roast pig, watermelons, bread and cakes, 
 an' carried a little charcoal furnace to make 
 coffee. Pow'ful preachin' mornin' and after 
 dinner ! I never hear such befo' nor sence. It 
 was all about the devil goin' about like a roarin' 
 lion seekin' whom he may devour, an' how we 
 was born the chillern of wrath and sin, and Gawd 
 A'Mighty was angry with us every day an* 
 we was nothin' but worms of the dus', and even 
 our righteousness was filthy rags ; an' how we 
 was walkin' on a narrer naick of Ian', and any 
 minnit we was li'ble to fall in the pit that burns
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 255 
 
 with fire and brimstone, where the smoke of the 
 torment ascends forever and ever, an' whar thar's 
 wailin' an* weepin' an' gnashin' of teeth an' 
 how Gawd A'Mighty was a consumin fire. 
 'Feared like the folks, white an' black, got half 
 crazy with fear. The preachers called the 
 mo'ners up, and they sat on the bench under 
 the pulpit and rocked an' cried, an' couldn't 
 be comforted. They was under conviction good 
 an' hard, an' some got religion an' shouted 
 'glory!' 
 
 "Mandy Jane an' me, we sat by the do' an' 
 looked on, but nuwer got under no conviction. 
 One day a terrible stawm came up all of a sudden. 
 The lightnin' an' thunder an' wind was awful. 
 We all run for the meetin'-house an' warn't no 
 sooner in fo' the rain came down like a deluge. 
 It was dark inside, and we could hear the trees 
 crashin' and thunder roarin'. The preachers 
 got up and zorted us to 'flee from the wrath to 
 come,' an' Mandy Jane jump up all on a sudden 
 an' run to the mo'ners' bench. I was feared 
 they'd ketch me, an' I say to myself, I can git in 
 the kerridge out under the shelter an' hide twel 
 it's all over. But when I got to the do', thar stood 
 ole man Jacob Henry, an' he twis' me roun' an' 
 giv' me a push, an' fust thing I know I was
 
 256 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 ninnin' to the mo'ners' bench an' flop down an' 
 rock an' groan like the res'. 
 
 "After a while the stawm passed an' the sun 
 come out, an' all the po' little birds begin to 
 chirp outside. 'Twas the las' day of the 'stracted 
 meetin', an' the beautifullest preacher my eyes 
 ever res' upon riz up to preach the las' sermon. 
 He had a look in his face somethin' like Marse 
 Jeems when he's readin' to you, Miss Shirley, 
 but it was heavenlier. His forehead was white 
 an' high, an' his eyes deep an' dark, an' a sad 
 sort o' smile on his mouth. He certainly was 
 a lovely gentleman ! Well, he never speak one 
 word about sin or the devil or hell. He tole us 
 how Gawd had loved us from the beginning of 
 the world and wanted us every one to enjoy good 
 and beautiful things how goodness an' mercy 
 had followed us all the days of our life and would 
 always follow us if we obeyed and loved Him 
 an' loved one another an' if we sometimes 
 slipped an' fell an' sinned, He know we were 
 nothin' but dus', and He was ready to forgive 
 us an' take us under His wings like a hen gathers 
 her chickens, an' keep us from doing wrong 
 any mo', an' then he clasped his han's befo' 
 him an' looked up like he could see heaven 
 through the shingles ; an' he tole about the
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 257 
 
 streets of gole, an' gates of pearl, an' sea of jasper, 
 an' fruits for the healin' of the nations, an' Gawd 
 would wipe all tears from our eyes an' bless us 
 forever an' ever; an' he went up an' up, an' he 
 soared higher an' higher, twel he fyarly briled 
 in glory ! An' then he spread his han's out an' 
 prayed for us all, an' dismiss us with the blessin'. 
 
 "Well, I felt like I never want to come to 
 yearth an' do another lick of work long as I live, 
 an' I set thar after the people all went out, 
 an' ole Miss come along an' say, ' What's the 
 matter, Milly ?' I bust out cryin' an' I say, 'I 
 don't want to live no longer in this filthy ole 
 worlV Ole Miss look at me kind, an' say, 'I've 
 felt that way very often, my girl, but I've found 
 whenever we are disgusted with a dirty world, 
 the best thing we can do is to clean up a little 
 piece of it. Run along now and help straighten 
 up our things an' leave our part of the place here 
 in order.' 
 
 " I didn't sleep a wink that night, I had eat a 
 ungawdly sight of watermelon, and by day I 
 was up an' walkin' about out doors. I remem 
 bered I had sot my Dominicker hen an' 'twas 
 'bout time she was hatchin', an' sho' enough here 
 she come off her nes' with twelve of the peartest 
 little chickens you ever see. I picked 'em up in
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 my apron an' car'd 'em to the kitchen an' foun' 
 some, bread an' fed 'em. Thar I set lookin' 
 at 'em eat, an' after a while the ole hen spread 
 out her wings an' call, an' they all gathered un 
 der her. All at once I remembered the preacher 
 an' how our Father in Heaven wanted to gather 
 us an' I jump up an' holler * Glory ! ' Ole Aunt 
 Venus she was the cook then come in. She 
 was a mighty vicious ole ooman, an' she flung 
 my hen out the kitchen, an' took me by my 
 shoulders an' shook me, an' say didn't I have 
 no mo' sense than git religion right thar whar 
 she had to git breakfus ? But I was baptized 
 the nex' Sunday an' jined the chu'ch, an' I ain't 
 never unjined. I ain't backslided as I knows 
 of. Mandy Jane an' ever so many of them 
 shouters has backslidden an' gone back to the 
 fleshpots of Egypt, but I hilt on. I don't hold 
 with all the shoutin' an' carryin' on of folks these 
 days. It's easy enough to perfess. Perfessin' 
 ain't always possessing an' I got no faith in so 
 much talk any way. Folks is too free an' inti 
 mate with Gawd A'Mighty to suit me." 
 
 Milly had dropped her knitting and sat rocking 
 herself gently to and fro. Presently she came 
 with a sigh back to the duty of the hour and rose 
 to see how her young mistress had been im-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 259 
 
 pressed by her recital. Shirley was lying still, 
 her long lashes on her cheek, her cheek resting 
 upon her hand, and loosed from the other hand 
 and near her lips was the red, red rose. 
 
 " I wonder how long she been asleep ! Here I 
 been talkin'," Milly said with a hint of re 
 proach in her voice. "Now I got to look for 
 Marse Chawles an' fine out whether I mus' wake 
 her for her powder. If she'd tole me she was go- 
 in' to sleep, I could have given it to her. 'Tain't 
 good for her to smell that rose all night." She 
 gently withdrew it, and, gathering up her wools 
 and Simple Sam's socks, put it in a glass of water, 
 blew out the candles, and departed, closing the 
 door softly behind her. The Doctor was not 
 found, however, nor the patient wakened. 
 
 The next morning soon after the family and 
 guests were seated at breakfast, young Tom 
 Dancey sprang out of his chair like a Jack-in-the- 
 box. Shirley was coming in. Walking around 
 the long table to find her seat beside the Colonel, 
 she shook hands cordially with all the Danceys, 
 great and small, left a butterfly kiss upon her 
 mother's head, and nodded gayly to her father as 
 she passed to her chair. Young Tom would have 
 given everything in his pockets if he could have 
 changed places with the eldest Dancey girl
 
 260 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 who, eyes glued on Shirley, was seated opposite 
 the Colonel. Shirley was radiant, smiling on 
 everyone, beautiful in a white muslin gown with 
 the red rose on her bosom. Tenderness and 
 happiness filled the Colonel's heart as he marked 
 the rose his gift preserved from fading, and 
 worn on her beautiful bosom. 
 
 "Who told you you might get up ?" asked her 
 father. 
 
 "The pangs of hunger ! I was starving." 
 
 "You do my practice credit ! Those are 
 wonderful powders ! Fine to check a coming 
 cold." 
 
 Mrs. Dancey, who lived across the river, was 
 only an occasional visitor to Berkeley Castle. 
 She was noted as a news-gatherer, not with the 
 least injurious object, but mainly because of the 
 joy of dispensing it again, an amiable but mis 
 chievous trait. Like Rosa Dartle she only 
 "wanted to know" but unlike Miss Dartle 
 she had no sinister designs. Mrs. Berkeley 
 and Miss Prissy had skilfully avoided personal 
 subjects, and kept the conversation upon domes 
 tic matters how best to green the wonderful 
 sweetmeats of melon rinds, to make them re 
 semble carved emeralds, or gain the golden tint 
 demanded by yellow pickle, chiefly how the
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 261 
 
 gowns were fashioned that Mrs. Berkeley had 
 seen at the Springs, and where in the Richmond 
 shops might be found the most elastic make of 
 hoop-skirts. The evening had passed quickly in 
 this harmless talk, but now Mrs. Dancey was 
 about to leave, and half her errand in coming was 
 still unfulfilled. Her time was short. Like a 
 bolt out of a clear sky came the question : 
 
 "What do you make, Doctor, of young New 
 ton's strange behaviour ?" 
 
 "About his going to California ? Nothing 
 seems more natural ! I think Mr. Dancey 
 would agree with me that it requires a pretty 
 strong anchor to keep any of us at home." 
 
 "Oh, that's all understood, but there are some 
 strange reports about young Newton. People 
 say " 
 
 "I am sure," said the Doctor, hastily, "that 
 no one can, with truth, say anything to his dis 
 paragement. I have great respect for that young 
 man. He can be trusted to manage his own 
 affairs." 
 
 "Oh, but there's a dark mystery about his 
 sale of Beechwood. Everybody knows that. 
 I saw Jake Peterson at the meetings, and he says 
 most people believe he will never come back. 
 They say Benson found out something perfectly
 
 262 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 dreadful about him, and young Newton has given 
 him Beechwood to hush up some disgraceful 
 secret or other." 
 
 "I am not acquainted with Mr. Jake Peter 
 son," said the Doctor, coldly, "but if he declares 
 that he knows that to be true he lies ! What 
 is more everybody who believes him is willing 
 to believe a lie." And the Doctor pushed back 
 his chair with emphasis and rose from the table. 
 
 "I must excuse myself, and bid you good- 
 morning," he said gravely. "I do not presume 
 to advise you, Madam, nor do I feel sufficiently 
 acquainted with Mr. Dancey to take the liberty 
 of advising his wife, but I think he will tell you 
 that there is a point beyond which calumny 
 behind a man's back had best not venture. Mr. 
 Peterson and those who listen to him might get 
 into trouble. I bid you good-morning." The 
 Doctor bowed himself out, and Shirley, pale and 
 trembling, would have gladly followed him. All 
 the sunshine of her day had gone out in darkness. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Dancey's face reddened, but the 
 Colonel immediately essayed to relieve the situa 
 tion by remarking that it was simply wonderful 
 what fancies would possess some people and lead 
 to reports without foundation. He perceived 
 at once that he made a mistake.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 263 
 
 "There's no fancy about it," Mrs. Dancey 
 maintained. " Here the young man suddenly 
 sells a splendid estate for almost nothing or 
 gives it away, some say, in fee simple. Why 
 does he do it ? I want to know ! Oh, you 
 needn't look as if I ought not to mention it 
 before the children. Every man, woman, and 
 child at the meeting heard it, and most of 'em 
 believed it." 
 
 "Do you believe it ?" said Dorothea, earnestly. 
 
 "No-o, I can't say I do." 
 
 "Because if you do, I must " 
 
 "Hush, Dorothea," said her Mother. "It is 
 all right. Everybody in this house, everybody 
 in the country whose opinion is worth anything, 
 loves and honours Douglas Newton." 
 
 "Amen," said the Colonel, and the excellent 
 breakfast soon smoothed the lady's ruffled 
 feathers. 
 
 The family sped the parting guest with as 
 much courtesy as was possible. She hastened 
 to unburden her indignant spirit to Miss Betty 
 Oliver, with the result that as soon as Miss Betty 
 learned of the Doctor's rebuke, she warmly 
 sustained him, at the risk of losing a customer. 
 
 " Now, what are we to do with Charles ? " Mrs. 
 Berkeley inquired of the Colonel. "I never
 
 264 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 knew him before to run away from danger and 
 leave us to our fate." 
 
 "He couldn't trust himself! I saw murder 
 in his eye and he couldn't fight a woman," 
 
 "What do you suppose Dorothea was going to 
 say?" 
 
 " I happen to know ! She was going to decline 
 further acquaintance with the lady ! Going to 
 'walk majestically out of the room!' Don't 
 be worried, Mary. Douglas will certainly return. 
 Benson is extremely unpopular, and under no 
 circumstances will it be possible for him or any 
 body else to shake the confidence our best men 
 have in Douglas Newton." 
 
 Shirley had silently listened to it all, and she 
 suffered acutely. She began to wonder how much 
 longer she could endure. The prompt, warm 
 championship of her father and her friend was as 
 music to her ears, but that the tongue of slander 
 was busy with the reputation of the man to whom 
 God help her she had given her heart was 
 keen anguish. 
 
 The struggle to maintain her light-hearted 
 manner failed at last, and she gradually became 
 more and more silent. She joined the group of 
 knitters around the evening lamp. Does M'me 
 La Paix or her confreres now keep the once
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 265 
 
 popular Bal Orne, a great ball of wool of many 
 colours irregularly spaced, with directions for 
 the knitting ? Shirley had acquired one of these 
 balls in New York, and now drew it forth. 
 
 "Is this a mystery or a harlequin arrange 
 ment ? " asked the Colonel. 
 
 "Harlequin ? Not at all ! I have the rules 
 here. All I have to do is to follow them, and as I 
 knit, buds and leaves and flowers will grow under 
 my needles. Mystery ! Yes as life is a mys 
 tery. The scheme and colours are all arranged for 
 us, and we have only to work by certain rules 
 work blindly and hope for the flowers." 
 
 "They will surely come, dear Shirley ! Noth 
 ing but flowers will ever bloom in your life." 
 
 Shirley shook her head. "There are knitters 
 at work on my life ; wiser, I hope, than I. They 
 hold the needles ; I can only wait." 
 
 In due time the invitation to the White House 
 which the President had promised Shirley was 
 received. To her Father's surprise and disap 
 pointment, she declined it very courteously, 
 very warmly and appreciatively, but very firmly. 
 Nothing could shake her. 
 
 "Tell me, Shirley," said the Colonel, "tell 
 me confidentially, why do you object to this 
 visit ? Washington is delightful at Christmas
 
 266 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 and New Year's, and the White House gayeties 
 charming and distingue." 
 
 "I don't object in the least," said Shirley; 
 "I know it is grand ! I only like something else 
 better. I suppose I must be selfish ! It is just 
 this : the White House is all very well and the 
 old President is a dear, there's an 'understand 
 ing' between us, but to tell the truth, I prefer 
 Berkeley Castle and my Cousin James." 
 
 Alas ! The poor Colonel now knew himself 
 to be deeply in love with the fair flatterer and 
 every proof of her preference fed the flame and 
 stimulated his hopes. Indeed he felt assured. 
 Her preference of his society above all others 
 more and more encouraged him. She, poor 
 child, sought him only as a refuge. She could 
 seem to listen many a time when her thoughts 
 were far away. He was the greatest comfort of 
 her life, her best and dearest friend. They 
 were both dreamers. The Colonel's dreams were 
 of her and her only. Shirley also dreamed, but 
 not of him. To her the Colonel meant at no 
 distant day to confide his dream. She already 
 confided hers to Bonnibell !
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 SUPREMELY happy, the Colonel began to plan 
 the rehabilitation of his home. Although the 
 owner of a handsome estate, he had very little 
 ready money. Every Virginia planter will under 
 stand how that could be. The wonderful success 
 of Nathaniel Hawthorne in the realm of fiction 
 had impressed him, and he resolved to finish a 
 romance he had commenced during the summer, 
 written pour passer le temps, but now to be re 
 viewed in the hope of material result. He 
 wished to keep secret, for the present, this new 
 venture. Its success was to be among the 
 delightful surprises of that future day trem 
 bling now, a great rising star, upon the horizon 
 of his dreams. 
 
 One day he surprised Mrs. Berkeley by saying 
 that the time had come when he would, really, 
 be compelled to go back to his own plantation. 
 There was an air of unusual decision in the no 
 longer familiar announcement an unwonted 
 emphasis. "Why, James !" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Berkeley, in amazement. "What is the matter ? 
 
 267
 
 268 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 What has happened ? You cannot live alone in 
 your house. Think of the chill of a house that 
 has been closed for years. The swallows have 
 built in the chimneys. You could never live 
 there alone. Surely there can be no necessity 
 for you to leave us." 
 
 "I know I know," said the Colonel, much 
 distressed, "but you see, Mary, I have important 
 papers to attend to in connection with my private 
 affairs. I have deferred matters, and my time is 
 short. I must devote many hours, all my hours 
 in fact, to uninterrupted work at my desk. I 
 have some serious thinking to do, and must con 
 centrate my attention. Indeed I I can have 
 no one about me in the morning hours except 
 perhaps little Pizarro. I will be poor company 
 for you ! I really must be much alone. Your 
 women might interrupt me disarrange my 
 papers, and 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? " exclaimed Mrs. Berkeley, in a 
 relieved tone. "My women, indeed ! That re 
 solves itself easily, I imagine, into one very little 
 woman. We will soon settle with her. Where's 
 Dorothea ? Come here, Dolly. You are not to 
 study or play in the office again for a while. 
 Your Cousin James is going to be busy, very, 
 very busy."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 269 
 
 The child was astounded ! "Not ever ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Not soon," repeated her mother, gently, but 
 raising a deprecating hand to check the Colonel's 
 protest. 
 
 "How near ?" entreated the child, the Colonel 
 rising to take refuge in flight. 
 
 "Not nearer than the grape arbour." And 
 then turning to the Colonel, she reassured him : 
 "Dolly will obey ; you can trust her. And as to 
 Minerva and Dilsey, I dare say you are quite 
 right. Don't you remember, James," she con 
 tinued cheerfully, " that funny little man 
 that naturalist who was here last fall hunting 
 katydids ? He came from the Boston Institute, 
 you know what was his name ? Well, any 
 way, he told me a mournful tale one day. He 
 had suffered a great misfortune. He had spent 
 a summer at Nantucket, where he had caught a 
 strange fish. He was engaged in classifying its 
 bones, when he was called away a moment 
 and alas ! his landlady entered his room and 
 dusted his table ! I can easily understand the 
 importance of quiet and isolation to a student." 
 
 The next day an indignant little woman moved 
 herself bag and baggage from the room at the 
 rear of the Colonel's cottage. The move, like
 
 270 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 many another house-flitting, was disastrous. 
 Her waxen doll, her dear Victoria, melted in the 
 noonday sun, where it lay forgotten in the con 
 fusion. Some of her books were spoiled by an 
 afternoon shower. 
 
 But the little Duchess had spirit, and she rose 
 to the occasion. She resolved to hold the for 
 tress permitted her. She was the Scottish Queen 
 on Lock-Leven ! She was a victim of injustice 
 and persecution. A revolution had occurred in 
 her dominions, and she was rudely dethroned and 
 cast out. The grape arbour was really a small 
 rustic house over which vines grew thickly. 
 This was her fortress ; the small window, a port 
 hole commanding the Colonel's office and manned 
 with two flashing eyes, whence she shot indignant 
 glances. Pizarro was sleeping on guard on his 
 doorstep, with his book beside him. The ban 
 ished Queen was no longer to share in the honour 
 of his education. 
 
 From her port-hole she soon discovered that 
 the Colonel was already occupied at his desk, 
 surrounded by books and papers ; also that a 
 basket of shredded paper was borne away by 
 Pizarro to be burned in the kitchen fire. She 
 concluded that the Colonel was indeed busy, 
 manufacturing something out of paper, kite-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 271 
 
 making perhaps, like the Mr. Dick in David 
 Copperfield, that everybody laughed at, and 
 that some failures were condemned to be de 
 stroyed. Keenly curious as she was, she would 
 not for worlds have condescended to ask a 
 question. The situation was strained between 
 the Colonel and his little Duchess. She decided 
 upon a reserved and dignified course with him. 
 
 So passed the first day. In the afternoon, 
 she was astounded when he thrust aside the vines 
 as if nothing had happened. "And here is 
 Her Grace in her sylvan bower ! And what 
 did you think of the fine fellow singing all day 
 in the very top of the biggest Lombardy poplar ? 
 There was a mocking-bird for you. He seems 
 to have forgotten it is high time he was off to 
 the South." 
 
 No, Dorothea had not heeded the mocking 
 bird. Captive Queens were not supposed to be 
 interested in mocking-birds. Besides people 
 must be taught that she was not to be trifled 
 with ! 
 
 But who could resist the charm of his kind 
 ness ? Not his little friend, surely. Taking her 
 by the hand to lead her indoors before the chill 
 of the evening, he told her the Indian legend of 
 the mocking-bird ; how a lovely song, sweeter
 
 272 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 than anything ever sung by man or bird, had 
 once been heard in the silence of the night, when 
 the world was young and at peace. A song 
 sweeter even than Chopin's answering voices, 
 those wonderful voices, one indignant, defiant, 
 or despairing; the other, the angel voice of 
 hope and resignation. Well, the song was 
 lovelier than these, than anything, and had 
 been lost when men began to fight each other ; 
 not lost like "il bel canto" for a hundred years 
 only, but lost forever, unless some high, pure 
 spirit should find it. 
 
 "An Indian brave," continued the Colonel, 
 "loved the daughter of a hostile chief and was 
 beloved by her. This was forbidden, and both 
 were cruelly punished. Both died so bravely 
 that the Great Spirit promised to reunite them, 
 provided the lover should find the Lost Song. 
 He was given the form of a bird that he might 
 travel north, south, east, west listen and 
 learn. Every summer he was to return to the 
 house of the Great Spirit in the Blue Moun 
 tains and sing the strains he had learned. Many 
 moons have risen and set, but the bird is still a 
 wanderer. I really thought this morning that 
 fellow in the big poplar had found the Lost Song, 
 he was in such a state of ecstasy." He looked
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 273 
 
 down at the wistful little face. ; 'You won't 
 mind, dear, sparing me a little while ? You'll 
 understand by and by." 
 
 And so the child's resentment must needs 
 melt under the sunshine of his charm. She was 
 resolved, however, keenly curious, to ask no 
 questions. Soon afterwards the elements fa 
 voured her, and she had no occasion to question. 
 A strip, escaping from the Colonel's table under 
 the window, was caught by the wind, and flut 
 tered up to the entrance of the grape arbour. 
 On it was written : 
 
 "Gwenlian awed him by the majesty of her 
 pure maiden eye. He cowered beneath it. 
 Just then Harold Tudor rushed " 
 
 All was explained ! The Colonel was writing 
 a story ! Dorothea read with starting eye 
 balls ! She resolved to keep the tremendous 
 secret as long as she could. Finally, weakening 
 under her burden, she confided it to Shirley, 
 the first moment she could find her sister alone 
 after her return. 
 
 "Oh, Dorothea !" she exclaimed, "how dare 
 you ? Don't you know how dishonourable that 
 was ? To think you could read a paper intended 
 to be destroyed ! Mama would break her 
 heart if she knew it."
 
 274 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Oh, Shirley, I told you in confidence. You 
 can't repeat what's told you in confidence." 
 
 "Of course not," said her sister. "But, 
 Dorothea, you must promise. Yes, yes. I know, 
 dear, you didn't think ; but never do it again."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A FEW evenings before this unlucky confes 
 sion, as the family sat on the moon-lit veranda, 
 the Colonel had led up in a rather roundabout 
 way, to the subject of story-making and novel- 
 writing in general. Presently he said : "It is 
 difficult, I imagine, to begin a story. Just 
 where the curtain is to rise, you know." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Miss Prissy, "that's the 
 reason some writers don't begin at all ! They 
 lug in an outsider or two, and make some one 
 of them tell the story. The rest of us are kept 
 cooling our heels on the outside to suit their 
 
 convenience." 
 
 "I know it," said the Doctor, "and I consider 
 it a mean advantage to take of a reader. Here 
 you are, politely listening to the remarks of 
 Captain Chutterbuck and the Rev. Dryasdust, 
 expecting something fine from those gentlemen 
 after a while when lo and behold, they bow 
 themselves out, leaving a manuscript which 
 contains the story. I resent such treatment ! 
 To keep a man standing at the door of an 
 
 275
 
 276 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 enchanted palace until these heavy fellows have 
 a hearing ! It's a nuisance." 
 
 "Well," said the Colonel, reflectively, "in 
 this world, it is never what is done, but who 
 does it that makes the difference. It is alto 
 gether right and proper nay, admirable 
 for the Wizard of the North to bar with his wand 
 the door of the Enchanted Palace until his 
 'Captain' has his say, and I imagine it would be 
 considered little short of a crime in a poor 
 amateur juggler whom nobody knows." 
 
 "He is beginning it in earnest," thought 
 Dorothea, and hugged herself in delightful 
 excitement. The Colonel, always dearly loved, 
 was now intensely interesting to her. Was he 
 not writing a novel ? Were not all of them to 
 be described in it ? Nothing was more probable. 
 His lightest words became significant, and, 
 indeed, he often drifted into suggestive talks as 
 he smoked with her father on the veranda. 
 Watching for these, she knew no weariness. 
 Her one dread was lest she might be sent off to 
 bed, and so miss some revelation. 
 
 "What have you, Charles," asked the Colonel 
 one evening, " on nautical subjects ? I have been 
 ransacking the library." 
 
 "Nautical ?" queried the Doctor. "That is a
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 277 
 
 wide word. Is it ships, seamen, navigators, or 
 what?" 
 
 "Currents," replied the Colonel, "ocean cur 
 rents ; and probabilities of storm, in certain 
 latitudes." 
 
 "Dear me!" thought Dorothea. "Has he 
 taken Gwenlian to sea ? Oh, if he should drown 
 her ! If her ship should be captured by pirates, 
 and she walk the plank like Theodosia Burr!" 
 
 At another time he consulted the Doctor upon 
 the action of poisons what poisons were 
 deadly, and the length of time before death 
 ensued from certain poisons. 
 
 " Now he has done it ! " thought Dorothea. 
 "He is murdering that sweet Gwenlian maybe 
 Harold Tudor, too ! They are in the hands of 
 the pirates, and are suffering torture from slow 
 poisoning." That night she slept tremblingly 
 with all the covering over her head. 
 
 The family had gathered one evening in the 
 early autumn around a fire in "the study," 
 now used as a sitting room. The Colonel had 
 been silent and distrait. Suddenly he said : 
 "After all, the hardest thing, I fancy, is to 
 finish a novel. Imagine a writer with forty 
 people, more or less, to dispose of. Some of 
 them villains who can, on no account, be left
 
 278 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 on earth, a perpetual menace to the happiness 
 of a lovely heroine. Writing of civilized times 
 has this disadvantage; you cannot massacre a 
 whole community stab, scalp, burn, or be 
 head everybody. Life is safe and polite the 
 times tolerant to the green bay tree. What's 
 to be done with the villains ?" 
 
 "Let them live and prosper !" said the Doctor. 
 "The dupe, not the villain, suffers in real life. 
 The dupe, honest fellow, blunders along and 
 falls into the pit at last. The villain is clever 
 and gets off scot free. Now in Sir Walter's 
 novels there is a systematic plan. Through 
 one half of the book the ingenuous hero blunders, 
 the wily villain triumphs, the pretty heroine 
 despairs. Turn the page about the middle, and 
 presto ! All the tangles begin to straighten 
 themselves out; the villain comes to grief, and 
 the heroine is brought to a beautiful burial, 
 or in satins and laces, to her wedding day." 
 
 "That is just what I like," said Miss Prissy. 
 "I do love to have things rounded up neatly 
 and comfortably. I should not mind knowing 
 how many raisins are in the wedding cake." 
 
 "This fellow Dickens," said the Colonel, 
 "always rings down his curtain on a tableau. 
 Everybody has come at just the right time from
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 279 
 
 the ends of the earth. All are standing in the 
 wings awaiting their respective cues. In they 
 pop, one by one, the curtain falls on the villain 
 lying confounded and writhing on the floor, and 
 all the others appropriately posed, uttering 
 moral sentiments and behaving with becoming 
 virtue and discretion. All this leaves the reader 
 in a pleasant state of mind. This new man 
 you are all so fond of it appears his name is 
 not really 'Titmarsh, ' but something 'Thack 
 eray' is quite satisfied that his disreputable 
 Becky should live long, and, in a measure, 
 prosper. However, he doesn't signify." 
 
 "Shirley," whispered Dorothea that night 
 after the lights were out, "he's finishing it." 
 
 "Oh, Dorothea," she said sorrowfully, "can't 
 I make you understand, dear ? Listen ! You 
 have no right to read anything not intended for 
 you that is, any letter or note. And if by 
 accident you do read it, never speak of it. Try 
 to forget it." 
 
 But Dorothea had no wish to forget anything 
 so thrilling. The novel was her only excite 
 ment. Children quickly perceive a chill in the 
 atmosphere of home. Things had changed 
 lately for her. Her father was silent and 
 troubled and her mother looked anxious. As
 
 280 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 to Shirley ! Shirley was changed altogether. 
 And her Cousin James ! She saw him only at 
 rare intervals. He was either in his office or 
 on horseback with Shirley, or off for a day 
 at Catesby. She confided to Gabriella that 
 her world was sadly out of joint that for her 
 part she wished there were no such things as 
 authors among home-people. They took up 
 everybody's time, made everybody nervous, 
 and were a long time finishing up their old books 
 so things would be comfortable and pleasant 
 again. Gabriella, never known to contradict, 
 loudly purred assent, and to the best of her 
 limited ability, soothed and comforted her 
 mistress. 
 
 There came at last an eventful evening. The 
 family talk had been of names the queer 
 changes in Virginian names, etc. The Colonel 
 said that his mother's ancestry had been Welsh. 
 He thought the names of her people in ancient 
 times very beautiful Gwyril, Gladwys, Gwen- 
 dolin, Gwenlian. 
 
 "And the men ?" asked Mrs. Berkeley, always 
 sympathetic and adaptable. 
 
 Dorothea, who had looked up at the first 
 name, blurted out explosively, "Harold Tudor" 
 
 The Colonel looked surprised. Dorothea ran
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 281 
 
 to him and put her arms around his neck. "I 
 tried to forget it, Cousin James, Shirley said 
 I must, --but I couldn't. Shirley said it was 
 dreadfully wrong for me to read a paper when I 
 found one; but you see I had read 'Harold 
 Tudor' ! I asked Mammy about it, and she 
 said she understood how I couldn't help it." 
 
 "It doesn't matter in the least," the Colonel 
 assured her. "Of course, I am quite willing you 
 should all know, although I had planned to 
 surprise you later. Yes, the name occurs in a 
 novel I have written. I commenced it last sum 
 mer, and it is almost ready for the publisher. 
 I think well of it, very well, indeed. It was 
 finished from a sudden impulse, but a high mo 
 tive ; and, really, I think it was an inspiration." 
 
 "Well, well!" said Miss Prissy, who had 
 been too much astonished to speak. "Will 
 wonders never cease ? To think, after trying the 
 navy, law, politics, and farming, James should 
 have burst into the literary world !" 
 
 "I didn't, dear Miss Prissy," laughed the 
 Colonel ; " I am crawling in on my hands and 
 knees. I have been thinking out my story for 
 the last year, and have nearly completed it." 
 
 But Dorothea's arm was around his neck, and 
 she whispered, "Are we in it, Cousin James ?"
 
 282 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Oh, I mustn't tell you the story ! 'In it' ? 
 I should like to know how you were to be kept 
 out of it ! Of course you are in it, but not in 
 this prosaic age. The Dissenters and Quakers 
 have left us nothing picturesque in this day and 
 generation unless, indeed, it be their ' per 
 sonal devil.' Look at Mary, now, in her grey 
 gown ! You will find her in my book as she 
 should be in a rich brocade over a satin quilt, 
 high-heeled slippers and diamond buckles, her 
 hair piled high and finished with flowers and 
 feathers." 
 
 Everybody laughed at this picture, but Doro 
 thea in her heart resented it. Could anything 
 be lovelier than her mother, she thought, 
 when she stood in the family pew at old St. 
 Martin's, her fur-edged pelisse fastened with 
 tiny barrel clasps, her sweet face far back 
 in the great bonnet, like a picture in a shadow- 
 box ? 
 
 "Who could write a story with the setting of 
 these prosaic times ? " repeated the Colonel. 
 "No dancing, no merry-making, no horse-racing, 
 no reading the romantic literature of fifty or a 
 hundred years ago, no " 
 
 "No drinking, no rioting, no oaths and swear 
 ing among ladies ! No tipsy clergymen leading
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 283 
 
 our young men astray, no fights on the court 
 green, no broken heads for Charles to mend on 
 every court day!" said Miss Prissy, with more 
 heat than she usually exhibited. 
 
 The Colonel raised a deprecating hand. "I 
 surrender," he laughed. "I call the company to 
 witness 'picturesque* was the word I used. 
 Nothing more, nothing worse than 'pictur 
 esque." But Mrs. Berkeley had rallied to her 
 Aunt. "Think of the dear Quakers, the good 
 Presbyterians !" she began indignantly. 
 
 "Their Sunday dinners are very indigestible, 
 Mary," interrupted her husband. 
 
 "Oh, Charles, how can you ! Our Bishop sets 
 his face like a flint against the old-time drink 
 ing and rioting. Doesn't he teach us to live 
 godly, soberly, and righteously in this present 
 world ? To think only of things lovely, pure, and 
 of good report ? As to James's romantic litera 
 ture, how can he read it and 'think only of those 
 things ' ? " Turning to the centre table, she took 
 up "The Keepsake," in its sumptuous] binding 
 of cream and gold. "I like the new things 
 better," she declared. "Read these poems by 
 those young brothers, Charles and Alfred Tenny 
 son. There is delicacy and refined fancy for 
 you, without a bit of the Puritanic element
 
 284 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 you are always deprecating though why I 
 can't imagine !" 
 
 This was too much. Only lately had gods 
 walked the earth gods who had not yet 
 known who never will know "twilight." 
 Were they to be supplanted by these youngsters ? 
 The Colonel looked so shocked at the total 
 depravity of her taste that the Doctor brought 
 back the discussion of his book. Had he signed 
 his own name ? 
 
 "Why, certainly, Charley. Why not ? I have 
 reason to be proud of it. I have made a dedica 
 tion, of course, not mentioning names, but 
 indicating you and Mary, so your friends will 
 understand." 
 
 The Doctor, evidently a little nervous, ven 
 tured another question. 
 
 "Oh, as to that," said the Colonel, "it is not 
 a short story. It is longer than 'American 
 Notes,' that medley of bizarreries. Heavens ! 
 What has old Virginia not suffered from these 
 itinerant foreigners ! Mrs. Trollope, Miss Mar- 
 tineau, and now this underbred, ungrateful 
 Dickens. It is one of the trials of my life to 
 see how greedily people are reading him." 
 
 "They all came over and saw us as we are," 
 said the Doctor.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 285 
 
 "Not a bit of it," retorted the Colonel. "No 
 man can describe the inside of a house, having 
 seen only the outside. Why, that fellow Thack 
 eray ridiculed our women, sir ! He caricatured 
 the Virginia lady, sir !" 
 
 "The Virginians" had not then been written, 
 nor the sacrilegious hand, which "caricatured 
 the Virginia lady" through Mrs. Mountain and 
 simpering Fanny, been laid also upon our peer 
 less Washington. 
 
 "Was that the reason you wrote the book, 
 James ?" asked Mrs. Berkeley, anxious to con 
 ciliate after the little flurry. 
 
 "Why, no, Mary! I really desired more 
 than anything to pay a grateful compliment to 
 you and Charley. You have made my visit 
 to you most delightful. I have never realized 
 that it is only a visit. I am afraid you will 
 have to set the dogs on me some day," he added 
 merrily. 
 
 "Never ! " exclaimed everybody at once. Mrs. 
 Berkeley laid a reproachful hand on his sleeve. 
 He raised the white hand to his lips respectfully, 
 and after an embarrassed pause, rose and walked 
 back and forth, strangely agitated. "I wish I 
 could tell the whole truth!" he said. "No, it 
 was not altogether for that. When I found an
 
 286 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 obstacle money, mere money in the way of 
 some things very near my heart which I wished 
 to do for the happiness of others, I had a 
 great longing to to in short, I can hardly 
 explain ! Some day you will all know ! Those 
 fellows at my place are pretty unfortunate 
 farmers. The tobacco just pays for the pleasure 
 of raising it hardly that. Last year a little 
 survived the rains and the cutworm, and the 
 burning of two or three tobacco houses. When 
 it reached the market in Richmond, there was 
 no market for it. However," he continued, 
 " I don't mean to be a vagabond any longer ! 
 I intend to settle on some profession, every 
 man should, and I have decided upon litera 
 ture. Nobody is more independent than an 
 author. His brain is his bank a bank that 
 will honour every draft. We have outlived the 
 days of Milton when a noble poem was sold for 
 a song. Think of Hawthorne ! Think of that 
 fellow Dickens, reaping a golden harvest in this 
 country." 
 
 "And you say you signed it ? Did you sign 
 your full name or only initials ?" asked Mrs. 
 Berkeley. 
 
 "Assuredly, and my full name, only I 
 signed J. Maddock Jones. My dear Mother,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 287 
 
 you know, was a Maddock. Her name will be 
 recognized in England and Wales, and perhaps 
 help the book abroad. She was descended in 
 direct line from Madoc Ap Rhys. You may 
 remember he married Lady Gladwys, daughter 
 of a Prince of Powys ancestors of the Tudors 
 of the British throne. The line goes back 
 straight and clear, to the great ancient kings of 
 South Wales." 
 
 "But, James," exclaimed Miss Prissy, putting 
 down her knitting, " you amaze me ! Who is 
 always condemning Virginia pride in ancestry ? 
 Who says we degrade it when we boast of it ? 
 I never saw such topsy-turvy times as these ! 
 A body doesn't know what to expect next." 
 
 " Why, of course, Miss Prissy, I am not doing 
 this solely for myself ! The Maddock family 
 has fallen into obscurity. They need my fame 
 and are entitled to share it. It is a good old 
 family, and lately I have felt a strong desire to 
 reestablish it." 
 
 "What a fellow !" said the Doctor afterwards, 
 to his wife ; "to think he should seize this oppor 
 tunity to honour his mother. Everybody knows 
 what a time the Catesby Joneses made when his 
 father married her. One thing astounds' me 
 James Jones doing anything to make money!"
 
 288 
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 " I wonder if he will succeed ! What do you 
 think?" 
 
 "James has travelled and read much. Dear 
 fellow ! He is full of sentiment and poetry, 
 and all that. But, bless his innocence ! He 
 has never learned any worldly wisdom. Pizarro 
 is to-day more a man of the world. I wouldn't 
 be surprised if he makes a hit. Nothing surprises 
 me these days."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 DOUGLAS NEWTON had now been absent six 
 months, and nothing had been heard from him. 
 Fifty days were allowed for the journey from 
 New York to San Francisco via Panama, but 
 letters had been expected from Chagres, the 
 Panama "halfway house," the last of Novem 
 ber. Failing this, certain information of the 
 "forty-niners" might be looked for at Christ 
 mas. The season passed anxiously for Wingfield, 
 and for Harry Newton, who spent Christmas 
 sadly at the University. In March, six months 
 after Douglas left, the Doctor received a letter 
 from Harry : 
 
 DEAR DOCTOR: 
 
 I have heard nothing whatever from Douglas. I must 
 go and look for him, unless indeed you may have heard. 
 As you are his oldest friend, I take comfort in the hope he 
 may have written to you. The first letter I wrote to him I 
 begged for his address. The letter has been returned to 
 me, " not found." 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 HARRY NEWTON, 
 u 289
 
 290 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Before you answer, Charles," said the Colonel, 
 "let me ride over to Dr. Page's. It is alto 
 gether probable Douglas has written to Miss 
 Anne. Harry naturally might feel reluctant to 
 question her." The Doctor agreed with the 
 Colonel, and he set forth at once on his delicate 
 errand. 
 
 He found Anne at home and quite willing to 
 grant her visitor a private talk of a few minutes. 
 The Colonel, with delicacy, circumlocution, and 
 much embarrassment, approached the subject, 
 and said he supposed everybody was uneasy 
 he supposed Miss Anne 
 
 "Why, I'm crazy about it," the little lady 
 exclaimed. "If anything happens to Douglas 
 Newton, I don't know what I shall do. I am 
 devoted to him." 
 
 The Colonel's heart melted within him. With 
 a meaning look he said, "Say no more, my dear 
 young lady ! Rest assured you have my tender 
 sympathy. It would mean more to you than 
 to anybody should anything which God for 
 bid befall Douglas Newton." 
 
 Anne opened wide eyes. "Why, Colonel 
 Jones, you don't think Douglas is in love with 
 me, do you ? You don't suppose I care for him 
 if he isn't ?"
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 291 
 
 "I thought we all thought " stammered 
 the poor Colonel. 
 
 "Nonsense !" said Anne, impatiently. " Doug 
 las is dying for Shirley Berkeley. I mean it 
 dying! He told me so himself, when he bade 
 me good-bye ! He said life was worth nothing 
 to him nothing; that he was too poor ever 
 to hope for her. She was never to know it. 
 He said more but I promised. Oh, why 
 did you make me break my promise?" and 
 the excited girl burst into tears. "And Douglas 
 is so splendid ! And Shirley ought to care ! 
 She ought to be made to. I don't see how she 
 can be so cruel. And Douglas told me but I 
 promised ! And everything is so dreadful ! 
 Douglas hasn't written to Harry, and I know he 
 isn't alive. He has been mur murdered by 
 those awful Mexican robbers," and the poor 
 child sobbed convulsively. 
 
 She was a pathetic little figure as she sat with 
 her head bowed on her arms at the table. The 
 Colonel rose and looked down upon her, too 
 much surprised and troubled for words. He 
 did not wish to wait until she should think 
 it necessary to lift her tear-stained face. He 
 was possessed with a conviction that she loved 
 Douglas, in spite of her protesting to the con-
 
 292 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 trary, but that Douglas should have declared 
 his devotion to Shirley was an astounding 
 revelation. For the moment it overwhelmed 
 him. 
 
 Stooping over the prostrate little figure, he 
 begged her forgiveness for the pain he had 
 caused her. 
 
 "Why, you haven't done a thing, Colonel," 
 said Anne, suddenly looking up, and shaking her 
 head as a flower might shake off raindrops. 
 "It is I who should beg pardon crying here 
 like a great baby," and she laughed hysterically. 
 "You won't tell anybody about Douglas ? 
 Thank you I knew you wouldn't. You aren't 
 going right away ? Come again soon ! We 
 may have news before long after all. Remember, 
 now ! You aren't to tell about Shirley. I 
 promised Douglas on my sacred word and honour 
 and you just made me tell you." 
 
 In her room, she clenched her small fist at the 
 face in the mirror before her. "Well, you 
 have distinguished yourself ! A pretty shaky 
 reed you are for anybody to lean upon ! I'm 
 ashamed of you." 
 
 A troubled Colonel was speeding home to 
 Berkeley Castle. Douglas ! Could it be possi 
 ble that Shirley of course not ! Away with
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 293 
 
 such absurd suggestions. Nobody knew Shirley 
 as he did, but poor, poor Douglas ! 
 
 The sun had set when he reached home, and 
 the evening lights were burning in the house. 
 With a hasty word "no news" to the Doctor, 
 the Colonel excused himself from supper and 
 repaired to his room in the office. He sat long 
 in the darkness long after the house lights were 
 extinguished. Before he could sleep, he had 
 marshalled before him all the smiles, kind words, 
 the seeking of interviews, of drives, with which 
 Shirley had so honoured him since her coming 
 home in September, and he had resolved that 
 soon very soon he would tell her all, 
 and then ! 
 
 But of one thing we poor, half-blind mortals 
 may be sure. If doubt the serpent enters 
 the bosom, he has come to abide. He makes 
 no brief visits. He may creep back into the 
 hole into which we indignantly thrust him, but 
 he will know his own hour for raising his ugly 
 head. And good luck will it be if he comes out 
 alone. A brood of active little kindred doubts 
 are pretty apt to accompany him. 
 
 The early April evenings in the South are 
 already balmy, soft, and delightful. The air is 
 laden with vernal odours, from fragrant leaf
 
 294 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 buds of the lilac, from hyacinths and tulips, 
 and many flowering trees. Soft, sleepy mur- 
 murings of birds and insects contend unequally 
 with the voices of the frogs in the grass and 
 around the streams. Every breath, every sound 
 speaks of hope and love and promise. On such 
 an evening, Shirley stood in the veranda over 
 looking the garden, with an arm clasped around 
 the pillar on which she leaned her head. The 
 family had been talking of matters and things in 
 general of recent political movements, of the 
 Colonel's great book, which he had announced as 
 almost ready to be sent to a New York publisher. 
 He had brought home from the Northern mail 
 a number of magazines and papers, among them 
 The Evening Mirror. There was an American 
 genius in those days who flashed forth like a 
 meteor out of a dark cloud. Presently the 
 meteor became a fixed star, burning with such 
 splendour that men forgot the cloud. Around 
 the astral lamp that evening, the family gathered 
 to hear the Colonel read aloud a choice selection 
 from this author. He was extremely nice in his 
 pronunciation, but his "r's," always elusive as 
 terminals, escaped him altogether in his appre 
 ciative rendering of a famous poem of this 
 genius :
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 295 
 
 "By that Heaven that bends above us by that God we 
 
 both adoah, 
 Tell this heart, with sorrow laden, if within that distant 
 
 Aiden 
 It shall clahsp a sainted maiden whom the angels call 
 
 Lenoah, 
 Clahsp a rah and radiant maiden whom the angels call 
 
 Lenoah. 
 Quoth the Raven, 'Nevahmoah.'" 
 
 The Colonel's pride in the author was tem 
 pered with surprise. "Think of that fantastic 
 fellow!" he exclaimed. "Why, when we were 
 at the University together, he seemed destitute 
 of the instincts of moral principle. I always 
 understood he was expelled. He was an in 
 spired ingrate ! What old John Allan endured 
 from him beggars description. Now he has 
 distanced us all ! " 
 
 "We must forget his early errors," said Mrs. 
 Berkeley. "When the pond-lily blooms, no 
 body remembers its slimy bed. Nobody should 
 remember." 
 
 "Ah, Mary!" said the Doctor, "you can't 
 expect us to accept any such sophistry. The cases 
 are not analogous. Your lily is not responsible 
 for its birth ; yet its first act is to grope upwards 
 through the darkness. It never rests until it
 
 296 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 reaches the light, and at the first smile of the 
 sun opens all its golden heart. Imagine your 
 lily born in the light and choosing the slimy bed 
 for its portion !" 
 
 But the Colonel was full of enthusiasm. "No 
 use in reading anything after that !" he declared 
 
 and the family circle resolved itself into the 
 usual committee for desultory discussion upon 
 any subject that presented itself. Shirley had 
 seemed to listen but at the first pause had 
 risen and gone out. The Colonel made haste to 
 follow and found her alone, in an attitude than 
 which his imagination could conceive of nothing 
 more beautiful, more appealing. 
 
 "I don't think, Shirley, you told me your own 
 idea of a good novel, when we were all dis 
 cussing my book." 
 
 "I, Cousin James !" - she paused and sighed 
 
 "I think the world needs a book to help us 
 bear our lives." 
 
 "Shirley!" The poor Colonel's heart was as 
 wax within him. "Shirley, are you troubled? 
 Is your life hard to bear ? Tell me !" 
 
 He felt that his great hour had come ! He 
 stood beside her drooping figure as she leaned 
 against the pillar and longed to fold her in his 
 arms. "Tell me, dear Shirley!" She turned
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 297 
 
 and confronted him, and as the light fell full 
 upon her, he was shocked at her indignant, 
 tear-stained face. "Hard to bear? I can bear 
 no more ! My heart will break ! How can you 
 every one of you talk about politics and 
 gossip and books, and smile and be happy when 
 Douglas Douglas " and she broke down, and 
 with a passionate sob left him standing, para 
 lyzed with surprise, slain with despair. 
 
 In the darkness and silence of his own room he 
 met his fate squarely and grappled with it. For 
 the moment, it would seem that all was over. 
 Her passionate face, her heart-broken tones, had 
 told more than her words. And yet how 
 could it be ? She had seen so little of Douglas 
 since his return from abroad had received 
 nothing no letters, no gifts from him. May 
 not this be a schoolgirl's fleeting fancy ? She 
 was so young would she not forget him ? 
 And Douglas who could be sure of the con 
 stancy of an untried boy ? Evidently he was 
 content to be absent. These were the insistent 
 thoughts coming again and again as he paced 
 the floor all during the night coming, to be im 
 mediately rejected as unworthy, and stifled at 
 last by one high and final resolve. 
 
 The next morning the Colonel calmly an-
 
 298 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 nounced to the family : "I have, after thinking 
 about it some time, decided to take a trip south 
 ward. I need change and sea air. Yes, Charles," 
 he added, answering the Doctor's questioning 
 look, "the old fever, the old wander-lust is on 
 me again. Never mind, Dolly ! See what I'll 
 bring you !" 
 
 The Colonel was going to California to find 
 Douglas Newton.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 LESS than eight months before the Colonel 
 sailed had tidings of the Western Eldorado 
 reached the East. Of Chagres on the Panama 
 route, with its cane huts, frenzied crowd of trav 
 ellers, dirt, scarcity of food, general demoraliza 
 tion, Bayard Taylor has given a vivid descrip 
 tion. Those of us who remember him can fancy 
 his pen racing over the page ; describing nerve- 
 racking, bone-breaking horrors with the cheerful 
 face with which he seems to have passed through 
 life. 
 
 Our Colonel was earlier than Bayard Taylor 
 by two months. From a canoe on the Chagres 
 River he looked out sometimes scorched with 
 heat, sometimes shaken with crashes of thunder, 
 sometimes drenched with rain "as if the sky had 
 caved in" upon vegetation and scenery that 
 only a Bayard Taylor could describe. The poor 
 Colonel's heart was wrung, but his resolve was 
 high. At night, as he lay under the thatch of 
 the canoe on the Chagres River, his thoughts 
 were far away from all the heat, degradation, 
 and discomfort his shut eyes making pictures 
 
 299
 
 300 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 of the dear home ; and the half-breed boatman 
 completed the illusion by chanting the negro 
 melody, then popular in Virginia, which he had 
 learned from early voyagers : 
 
 "Oh, Susannah ! Don't you cry for me ; 
 I'm off to California with my banjo on my knee ! 
 The gold is waiting for me, a-lying all around ; 
 All I got to do is just to pick it off the ground." 
 
 After a wonderful journey wonderful and 
 most exhausting the western coast was reached, 
 and the motley crowd waited for the final struggle 
 for quarters on the Panama. She sailed at last 
 through the Golden Gate "that magnificent 
 portal to the commerce of the Pacific." A strag 
 gling town of tents and canvas houses with here 
 and there a loosely constructed frame-house, 
 strung along paths of dust and dirt, was the San 
 Francisco of that day ; destined to become in 
 two short months more a large city full of people 
 "Yankees, Californians in sarapes and sombre 
 ros, Chilians, Sonorians, Kanakas from Hawaii, 
 Chinese with long tails, Malays, negroes, and 
 others in whose embrowned and bearded visages 
 it was impossible to recognize any special nation 
 ality." 
 
 The Colonel, like all newcomers, was overtaken
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 301 
 
 with a sense of utter bewilderment. Leaving his 
 luggage that he might look for a porter, he was 
 informed that no man filled that office; he 
 must carry his own trunk ! As this would be in 
 convenient while he searched the town for lodg 
 ings, he left it on the wharf. Several ordinary 
 frame-houses bore the proud names of "Parker 
 House," "City Hotel," "Tremont Family Hotel." 
 Gamblers, he was told, filled the entire upper 
 stories of these houses, besides their own great 
 canvas tent, the "El Dorada." There were no 
 decent rooms to be had anywhere. Every 
 corner was filled every bed ; and all the cracks 
 and crevices, the floors, beds, and blankets 
 swarmed with fleas ! The Colonel thought a 
 cellar room might be less popular and therefore 
 cheaper, but he was told there was but one for 
 rent. Cellars under the earth were considered 
 desirable, and this one solitary, untenanted 
 chamber would cost him $250 a month ! He 
 finally returned to the "Harbour House" near 
 est the wharf of any, and therefore near the 
 trunk ! This he shouldered for himself and con 
 veyed with his blanket and bag to a small domi 
 cile under the rafters, for which he was to pay 
 without meals $20 a week with meals $45 
 "and upward."
 
 302 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 The streets were filled all day with eager ar 
 rivals : gold-seekers ; venders of every conceiv 
 able utensil required by diggers ; wildly exultant 
 men fresh from "the diggings" with solid lumps 
 of gold to display ; defeated, enfeebled men, 
 broken in fortune and health, going home to die ; 
 gamblers, labourers, women, and children. Many 
 of the latter were seated on the earth, occupied, 
 not in the juvenile evolvement of pies out of dirt, 
 but in digging it up with anything they could 
 command, old rusty knives, handles of de 
 funct spoons, sticks, and finding therein minute 
 grains of gold, too small to be handled, but se 
 cured by applying the head of a pin moistened 
 with their own saliva ! These children sometimes 
 collected as much as five dollars' worth of gold- 
 dust in one day. 
 
 The Colonel made haste to visit the Alcalde, 
 who happened to be the eminent writer, Edward 
 Bryant. He had been among the early visitors, 
 and was, of course, in San Francisco at the time 
 Douglas was supposed to have arrived. The 
 Alcalde listened with interest and sympathy to 
 the Colonel's story, but shook his head. "There 
 can be no doubt," he said, "that Mr. Newton's 
 letters have been lost. That he is now here is 
 probable here and successful. Had he failed,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 303 
 
 he would have returned home. There is no use 
 in suggesting examination of lists of arrivals in 
 hotel registers. There are no registers. The 
 marking of graves ? Graves are not marked. 
 Such is the eager hurry, the excited rush and 
 struggle, that if a man's dead body is seen floating 
 in the river, he is not even looked at. Some 
 passer-by may remark : 'He's a poor man or he 
 wouldn't float. If he had gold about him, he 
 would sink." 
 
 "Then what must be my first step ?" asked the 
 Colonel. 
 
 The Alcalde considered. " I regret I have so 
 little power to help you. You might arrange a 
 systematic plan of search and spend a year with 
 no result. You may walk out to-morrow and 
 meet Mr. Newton. I will introduce you to my 
 friend, Dr. Wierzbicki. He has written a fine 
 book on 'California as it is.' He has gone about 
 among all classes of men, and is just the man 
 that may have met Mr. Newton and been at 
 tracted to him." 
 
 But alas, the versatile and charming Dr. 
 Wierzbicki although keenly interested knew 
 nothing. He, however, reassured the Colonel in 
 regard to possible violence at the hands of despera 
 does. "A man's rights and claims are respected
 
 3 o 4 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 here," he said, "although there is no territorial 
 government as yet. The silent consent of all is 
 generally enough to insure to a miner his claim. 
 Improvised judges and juries are appealed to when 
 necessary, and always obeyed, but the miners 
 easily settle their own disputes. There seems 
 to be high character among the newcomers, 
 of whom Mr. Newton was one. There is no vio 
 lence, no murder, no theft. If a man is called 
 away from a new 'find, ' he can stick his pick 
 axe or shovel in the hole, leave his small belong 
 ings beside it, and when he returns, he will find it 
 has been untouched." Not yet had arisen the 
 dark days of anarchy, murders, and robberies. 
 
 The Alcalde thought the Colonel would be 
 wise to remain in San Francisco, for adventurers 
 were always returning home and would sail 
 from the San Francisco harbour. Some one of 
 these might appear who had seen Mr. Newton. 
 Besides, there was intense hatred of Americans 
 among some of the old Spanish families who 
 justly resented the cession of California to the 
 United States, and despised Americans, who 
 "like dogs were always running with their noses 
 to the ground, snuffing about for gold." An 
 American falling into their hands might not 
 escape scatheless.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 305 
 
 Obeying these hints, the Colonel spent many 
 weary fruitless days at the wharf, watching the 
 passengers in the outgoing boats bound for the 
 ships in the offing. One day he was attracted 
 by the lounging, lazy gait of a man who was 
 hurling strong words at one of the wharf officials. 
 "Do you think I'll work for you like a damned 
 nigger for $10 a day ? You may tote your own 
 boxes. Hello, stranger!" as he espied the 
 Colonel. "Want a outfit ? I can sell this bowl 
 and shovel and these overalls dirt cheap an' 
 if you don't want to use 'em yo'self, I can find a 
 cheap Injun to dig for you. 'Pears like you 
 can afford it." 
 
 The Colonel looked at him narrowly. "Is 
 your name Bangs ?" he asked, "Tom Bangs 
 from Virginia ?" 
 
 The man's first impulse was flight and the 
 Colonel's first thought was stern rebuke, but he 
 quickly perceived that he might learn from Bangs 
 news of Douglas. 
 
 "I am glad to see you, Bangs," he said kindly, 
 and offered his hand. 
 
 :< Lawd, Cunnel ! Is this you ? I'm pow'ful 
 glad to see you ! Come to find your fortune ? 
 How d'you leave all ?" 
 
 "Have you made your own fortune, Bangs ?"
 
 306 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "I don't dig, Gunnel. The work is stiff, an* 
 a man with a fam'ly has to consider his health. 
 It's pow'ful hard on a man's hands all this dig- 
 gin* an* rubbin' ! I gits along buyin' cheap an' 
 sellin' high, pickaxes, shovels, and sich, an' 
 anything that comes handy. I'm not lookin' for 
 no great fortune." 
 
 "Would you like something to drink, Bangs ?" 
 
 " No, thank ye, Cunnel ! The liquor here is rank 
 pizen, but 'twon't hurt you if you let it alone." 
 
 "Well, then, how about coffee ? It is very 
 good at my quarters. Come with me." 
 
 Over their innocuous cups the Colonel told his 
 story. Tom Bangs had seen Douglas. He had 
 been at the wharf the last of February when the 
 California arrived, and had watched the passen 
 gers come ashore. A sick man was brought 
 in by two men on a sail, and he recognized Mr. 
 Douglas Newton. "He looked mighty sick," 
 and the men carried him to the Harbour House, 
 and there they left him. He had lost his baggage, 
 but some papers were in his pocket and some 
 money. He, Bangs, went to see Mr. Newton 
 every day, but for a long time he was delirious 
 and knew nobody. "He had the fever and had 
 it bad." One day when Bangs called, Mr. New 
 ton was gone. The people at the Harbour House
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 307 
 
 said he had walked away in the night. The 
 Colonel asked if he had paid his bill at the Har 
 bour House. 
 
 "Oh, yes, suh ! You see he had been sensible 
 for two or three days, but almighty weak. He 
 was tormented cruel by all the dirt an' fleas an' 
 noise, an' I reckon he walked away to git out 
 of Frisco clean away ! Oh, yes, suh ! He 
 paid the house an' he paid me, too, as soon as he 
 come to himself, all fa'r an' squar'. You see I 
 had bought some clean does for 'im, an' he paid 
 
 me." 
 
 "Now, Bangs," said the Colonel, "we've got 
 to find Mr. Newton ! Give up your trading and 
 peddling. Give me all your time. I'll make it 
 worth your while." 
 
 He puzzled over the fact of Douglas's late 
 arrival. He must have altered his plans after 
 writing to Dr. Berkeley, and made the four or 
 five months' voyage around the Horn. Possibly 
 he had been delayed in Panama. He realized, 
 with a sinking heart, the slender chance of find 
 ing him alive.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE Colonel's new-found neighbour proved a 
 most efficient assistant, full of interest and fertile 
 in suggestion. Every morning early he reported 
 to his chief, learned the plan for the day, and to 
 gether they proceeded on their search. Every 
 night found them returning, weary and dis 
 couraged, to the Colonel's evening meal and 
 subsequent smoke. 
 
 "Wall, now this looks like old times," Bangs 
 said one night when the Colonel produced and 
 presented to him a genuine Appomattox clay 
 pipe. He grinned as he rilled it. "'Minds me 
 of the ole ooman." This was the first allusion he 
 had made to his abandoned spouse. He had 
 asked no questions, and the Colonel volunteered 
 no information. As the days wore on, marked 
 by his faithful service, the Colonel had begun to 
 think that Mrs. Bangs might have been too sharp 
 a thorn in the flesh to be endured. 
 
 "You see, Cunnel," said his companion, be 
 tween the puffs of smoke, " it was this-a-way : 
 The ole ooman was pow'ful free with her lan- 
 
 308
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 309 
 
 gwidge, an* she kinder riled me. If you was a 
 married man, Cunnel, you'd understan' a man 
 can't nohow abide a cussin' ooman an' a crowin' 
 hen. Well, one day she was so uncommon blas- 
 pheemus I got het up, an' I raly was feared I'd 
 hit 'er ! I jus' had to slip out the back do' an' 
 run ; and I run clean to Californy." 
 
 "Ah, well," said the Colonel, wearily, "it's all 
 one in a lifetime. Don't talk about it now. 
 I wonder if there's any use " and he bowed 
 his head on his arms on the table with an air of 
 dejection. 
 
 "I knowed you'd git down-hearted as soon as 
 them damned niggers struck up singin' in the 
 street, 'Carry me back to ole Virginny' ! That's 
 why I tried to chirk you up a bit tellin' 'bout the 
 ole ooman, an' make you thank Gawd you're a 
 bachelor. There they go agin ! Cuss them fel 
 lers !" and he dashed out, and threw some silver 
 to the sable musicians. "Here you ! Do you 
 want to kill the folks in here with that song. 
 Strike up something hearty now, 'Susannah' 
 or 'Coal-black Rose,'" and he returned to his 
 forlorn friend to the stirring strain of "It'll 
 never do to give it up so, Mr. Brown," which 
 my contemporaries doubtless remember. 
 
 It was now drawing near to the end of June.
 
 3 io THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 The Colonel, although thoroughly discouraged, 
 had yet no intention of returning. Before leav 
 ing home he had gone to Richmond and sold, 
 in advance, his year's crops. Under promise 
 of strict secrecy, he had confided his mission to 
 Harry Newton, for he desired, of all things, to 
 spare Shirley the anguish of suspense and 
 feverish watching for news. He forewarned the 
 Doctor that letters were not to be expected . He 
 reported, however, regularly to Harry, begging 
 him to remain as his brother had wished 
 to the close of his term at the University, and 
 promising not to relax in his efforts to obtain 
 news of Douglas. He now, with Tom Bangs, 
 visited some of the Franciscan Fathers, but from 
 them nothing could be learned. The good fathers 
 regarded the search for one man a small thing 
 indeed by comparison with their own misfortunes. 
 Wandering farther and farther south, from one 
 dismantled mission to another, the Colonel would 
 often pause in utter amazement at the gorgeous 
 growths of what seemed to be an eternal summer. 
 Great trees of mango, cocoa, sycamore, palm, 
 shaded banks of thickest verdure. Every atom 
 of brown earth afforded foothold for some brill 
 iant flower. "Sometimes a spike of scarlet 
 flowers was thrust forth like the tongue of a ser-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 311 
 
 pent from the heart of some convolution of 
 unfolding leaves, and the creepers and parasites 
 dropped trails and streamers of fragrance from 
 boughs that would shoot halfway across the 
 rivers." Had Douglas broken his heart amid all 
 this beauty ? Did his young body lie some 
 where beneath it ? 
 
 The searchers rode mules on these expeditions 
 southward, and it was difficult to restrain the 
 animals as the fields of wild mustard stretched 
 on either side. This wonderful plant, the terror 
 of the farmer, had sprung from its tiny seed, "the 
 least of all seeds," and had become "greatest 
 among herbs, so that the birds of the air lodged 
 in the branches thereof." Thickets of the 
 mustard, in full bloom, looked as though it 
 might have drawn the gold from its roots and 
 held it aloft as an offering, or as an admirer 
 has described it as if a golden cloud had de 
 scended and become entangled in its branches. 
 
 One evening at a small wayside inn the 
 Colonel met another traveller, Father Jose, 
 journeying to San Francisco from Santa Bar 
 bara. Leaving him to hold improving conver 
 sation with Tom, the Colonel walked out under 
 a brilliantly starlit sky. Multitudes of stars 
 unknown to the North appear in the wonderful
 
 312 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 atmosphere of California and wisely has the 
 great observatory of the country been located 
 there. Presently a great full moon rose silently 
 from a dark sea of green, flooding the undulating 
 hills with light and here and there lending a 
 gleam to the outstretched arms of the wooden 
 crosses the pious Catholics had erected on their 
 summits. The Colonel walked with uplifted 
 eyes and heart. "When I consider the heavens 
 the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, 
 what is man that thou art mindful of him ?" 
 
 He unconsciously entered a path shaded with 
 wild mustard growing thickly on each side and 
 arching overhead. He had walked through this 
 natural tunnel absorbed in his own thoughts, 
 when he perceived the figure of a young girl 
 advancing from the entrance beyond. Alarmed 
 at the possible consequences of trespassing, he 
 hid himself among the boughs of mustard. It 
 was light as day at the end of the path, which 
 the Colonel now saw led to an opening and a 
 house among trees. As the girl advanced, he 
 marked her graceful carriage and Spanish dress. 
 Her steps were soon arrested by a hurried voice 
 calling in Spanish: "Senorita! Senorita Fe- 
 lipa ! The Senora commands return instantly ! 
 I can do nothing with the Serior."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 313 
 
 "Coming, Maraquita," answered the girl, run 
 ning back. The Colonel softly stole forward, 
 until he reached the end of the shaded path. 
 The splendid moon flooded the opening with 
 light. A low house of adobe appeared with a 
 veranda in front on which a dark young man was 
 seated, cutting viciously into a stick of soft 
 wood and grumbling : "Pray return, Felipa ! 
 The Don takes nothing from the hands of a 
 servant of the house. The Senorita must serve 
 him," he sneered. 
 
 "Patience, Miguel," said the girl. "He knows 
 nothing," and taking a bowl from the hands of 
 the maid, she approached two low trees nearest 
 the opening, between which hung a skin a 
 rude hammock on which a sick man was tossing 
 restlessly. The girl spoke to him. "Is it you, 
 Senorita," said the invalid. 
 
 "Si, Serior, and I have brought your broth! 
 Take it for Felipa ! Then you shall sleep 
 again !" 
 
 The girl slipped her hand beneath his head, 
 raised him, and encouraged him in gentle words 
 until he had slowly emptied the bowl. He lay 
 back for an instant, and then in a weak excited 
 voice, said : " I have dropped my rose ! It is in 
 a paper; please find it for me."
 
 3H THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Here is the paper, Sefior all safe." 
 He took a folded paper, opened it, withdrew 
 a small object, and put it to his lips. 
 
 "Ah, only a dried rose!" said the girl. "Is 
 it then so great a treasure, this faded rose ? I 
 could gather them fresh for you cloth-of- 
 gold roses from the veranda. Is this so 
 precious ?" 
 
 "Si, Senorita." 
 
 "A gift, perhaps, a token " 
 " Yes, yes, a gift, a precious token." 
 "And perhaps perhaps it may be from 
 a lovely lady ? " 
 
 There was a long pause. Presently, with a 
 deep sigh, the weak voice answered : "A lovely 
 little lady! With a dear name!" 
 
 "I may not know her name, Senor?" 
 "Her name is Dorothea, Senorita. It means, 
 the gift of god." 
 
 It was Douglas ! And the precious token 
 the rose the little Duchess had dropped from 
 her window the night of the serenade, and 
 confessed next morning. 
 
 The Colonel stood rooted to the spot. His 
 impulse was to appear at once, but lest that 
 should be unsafe, he resolved to hide until 
 midnight and then try to speak to Douglas,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 315 
 
 who was to sleep, he gathered, under the trees. 
 But as the house was preparing for rest, he 
 heard the unchaining of dogs and their impa 
 tient barking, and he hastily retreated. He had 
 learned some Spanish years before when on the 
 Pacific coast with his kinsman, Admiral Ap 
 Catesby Jones, and he perceived that Douglas 
 had also acquired it at least in some measure. 
 
 When he returned to the inn, he found Tom 
 waiting for him, and confided his wonderful 
 news. 
 
 "We will go early in the morning," said the 
 Colonel. 
 
 " And get a taste of that Miguel's knife, or be 
 chawed up by them dogs ? No, no, Colonel ; 
 we must take the Padre with us. Father Jose 
 will be your man. I will follow behind to attend 
 to the horses." 
 
 Early in the morning, the good priest was inter 
 viewed. He was much interested, and applauded 
 the wisdom of Tom's advice. It would have 
 been fatal to approach the family without 
 ceremony. As soon as possible, the party 
 mounted their mules, and repaired to the front 
 of the adobe house of Senora Maria Ramon 
 di Luna. The Senora, clad in black with a 
 rosary at her girdle and some thin black fabric
 
 316 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 on her head, received them on the veranda of her 
 house. 
 
 The Padre bestowed his blessing, and with 
 much ceremony introduced the El Estranjero. 
 Breakfast was announced, and a young girl and 
 young man with a sullen face appeared. They 
 were presented as "Sefior Miguel Ramon di 
 Luna" and "Senorita Felipa di Luna." After an 
 excellent breakfast of eggs, fish, and chocolate, 
 Felipa prepared a delicate cigarito for each of 
 the guests, and not until it was smoked did 
 the Padre unfold their errand. 
 
 All this time, the Colonel could see the out 
 line of the sleeping figure under the trees, but 
 absolute self-control was demanded by the situ 
 ation. 
 
 The story elicited from the courteous Senora 
 was brief. A young man had wandered into 
 the mustard path and fallen unconscious on the 
 earth. There Miguel and Felipa found him. 
 " ' It is one of the cursed Americans,' ' - here she 
 crossed herself "Miguel had said. 'Let him 
 alone,' but Felipa had been devoue to Our 
 Lady of Mercy at her birth, and she ran to her 
 mother for help. El Estranjero had been ill for 
 a long month. Evidently he had begun to 
 recover from fever and this was the dangerous
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 317 
 
 relapse. He could not walk. Would the Padre 
 see him ?" 
 
 Father Jose then told his friend's story, which 
 was received with much crossing and many 
 tender exclamations. He thanked them for 
 their great care ; like the blessed Samaritan, 
 they had found a stranger on the roadside and 
 comforted him. Now the Serior Americano had 
 come to take him home, and prayed the Senora's 
 acceptance of a large sum for her charities. 
 Might they see the Senor Douglas Newton ? 
 for that was his name. 
 
 Going alone, after Felipa had made Douglas 
 understand that a friend had come to visit him, 
 the Colonel stood beside the hammock and 
 looked down upon the handsome, emaciated 
 face. After the first moment of intense surprise 
 on the part of Douglas, the two men were 
 clasped in each other's arms. 
 
 To move Douglas required time and trouble. 
 Tom was sent post-haste to San Francisco, 
 about twenty miles distant, for the best means 
 of transportation, the kind Sefiora begging to be 
 allowed to keep her patient until it arrived. 
 When the hour came for the departure of her 
 guest, she commended him to Ave Maria Sanctis- 
 sima, adding gently, "and do not forget Maria
 
 3 i8 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Ramon di Luna," while from the little attic 
 room in the gable a small red handkerchief 
 waved a good-bye from Felipa. Miguel had 
 completely faced about, and none so eager as he 
 to assist in every way. 
 
 Douglas was carried to the Colonel's quarters 
 in the Harbour Hotel, and Tom despatched to 
 inform the Alcalde and find Dr. Wierzbicki. 
 The Alcalde immediately had the sick man 
 removed to his own house. The Doctor ex 
 amined him and thought it possible he might 
 safely travel but to be sure, he proposed, 
 after a week's rest, an initial drive with him into 
 the country, that he might observe him closely 
 on the way, and decide the extent of his strength. 
 
 Douglas had reason to remember that drive. 
 Pausing midway in a narrow stream for the 
 horse to drink, he was attracted by a cluster of 
 pale pink flowers on the edge of the water. He 
 looked at them silently and for a moment a 
 vision of Shirley, with her morning bouquet de 
 corsage of hedge roses, hovered over the spot. 
 Before he recalled himself, he had leaped on the 
 bank and was back, half fainting, with the 
 flowers in his hand; roots and all coming up 
 from the soft mud. "I think you can travel," 
 said the Doctor, drily. "That is a very beauti-
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 319 
 
 ful flower Ah ! what is this tangled in the 
 roots? Why Mr. Newton!" examining it 
 closely, " it is a little lump of gold ! An omen, 
 my dear sir, an omen." 
 
 It was decided, however, that the Panama 
 route was out of the question. Douglas was 
 too weak for the hardship involved in that 
 route. He must return by steamer around the 
 Horn, and would reach home in the autumn. 
 There was no crowd on the home-coming ships, 
 and the journey could be made rapidly and in 
 comfort. 
 
 "You must help me through, Tom," said the 
 Colonel. "Mr. Newton will need careful watch 
 ing. He is imprudent. He had a bad sinking 
 spell after that drive with the Doctor." 
 
 Tom readily agreed, but when the steamer 
 reached Panama, Douglas had been wonder 
 fully strengthened and refreshed, and Tom 
 announced his wish to return to San Francisco. 
 
 "And not go home to see your wife and chil 
 dren ?" said the Colonel, sternly. "Who do 
 you suppose has been taking care of them since 
 you left them ?" 
 
 "Well, Cunnel," said Tom, as he shifted rest 
 lessly from one foot to another, "I've no call to 
 reckon about it ! I know Dr. Berkeley and
 
 320 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Col. Jones of old ! It is jus' this-a-way. I haven't 
 made my pile yet, an' I don't want to be po'- 
 white-folks no mo' in ole Virginia. Yes, suh ; I 
 know you have been lib'ral, but to tell the truth 
 I feel skittish 'bout the ole ooman. She might 
 fling ha'sh langwidge at me ergin, an' I'm 
 loath to tempt her ! It's a sin, suh ! An* 
 Stevens might not take to me, seein' he's heard 
 I'm a bad character. No, suh ! Let me make 
 my pile an' when I come home, maybe I'll 
 drive up in my coach an' fo'." 
 
 He sent a present to his "ole ooman," and the 
 Colonel was obliged to be content. He had his 
 own doubt of Tom's welcome. 
 
 Douglas rapidly recuperated in the salt air. 
 The two men grew very close to each other dur 
 ing the long voyage, talking intimately and 
 earnestly on many subjects, but making no al 
 lusion to Shirley. As far as the Colonel knew, 
 Douglas no longer thought of her. All that was 
 to be settled between themselves. Shirley had 
 told him that her heart was breaking for Doug 
 las ; he had brought him back to her ! As to 
 himself Ah ! Far away, far away had fled 
 the angel of Hope from him ! He could not 
 sufficiently admire the noble self-ab legation of 
 Douglas, his keen sense of honour, his complete
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 321 
 
 atonement for the wrong done by his father, 
 the high loyal position he had taken to protect 
 that father from criticism or comment. 
 
 Now about the young fellow's future ! This 
 became the Colonel's dearest interest. 
 
 One day he said to him : "Do you know, 
 Douglas, I am beginning to wonder what you 
 are going to do for me ? I have been at some 
 trouble " 
 
 "Oh, Colonel, have pity ! I think of nothing 
 else ! I have nothing to give but myself. 
 Really I can do nothing unless you will let me 
 belong to you." 
 
 " Precisely that is my own thought. Catesby 
 is a fine place going to ruin for want of a master. 
 I shall never live there. I expect to go on an 
 other long journey soon. My travels have just 
 commenced. How does it strike you to live there 
 yourself with Harry and manage the plantation ? 
 It will be full repayment for all I have done, if 
 you will. You and Harry could practise your 
 profession, move over your horses and personal 
 servants." 
 
 "And train 'the gadding vine' ? Gladly," said 
 Douglas. "But what would old Uncle Abram 
 say ? However, I learned under Caleb to know 
 my place and keep it !"
 
 322 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "Abram will adore you," said the Colonel, 
 "and as to Aunt Chloe ! she is just the 
 motherly nurse to ruin a fellow," and so the 
 matter was finally settled. 
 
 Despite Harry's efforts to the contrary, news 
 of the home-coming rapidly circulated through 
 the neighbourhood. A crowd of men and boys, 
 black and white, thronged Berkeley Station on 
 the lookout for the northern train. Miss Betty 
 Oliver, standing in her doorway, heard the 
 varied voices, sharp with excitement, and car 
 ried away by her own, actually waved a wel 
 come with an intimate garment she had just 
 "whipped off the line." 
 
 "Here they come." "There's the Colonel." 
 "There's Newton! What's left of him!" 
 Tom Blackwell, the Pages, the Carringtons 
 all the boys are there. "Dar he is !" "I seed 
 Mm fust !" "Gawd A'mighty, ain' he fall off !" 
 "Is you bin sick, Marse Douglas ?" "Git out 
 de way who you crowdin' ?" "Here me, 
 Marse Jeems, me an' Primrose." "Git out de 
 way dar an' let de Doctor pass !" "I haven't 
 brought home any gold, boys," cries Douglas. 
 "Don't want it!" "Don't need it." "We've 
 got you back, thank God." "Make room there 
 for the Doctor to pass."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 323 
 
 "Welcome home, my boy," says the Doctor, 
 with a keen look at Douglas. "We'll soon fix 
 you up. Ah, James ! how we've missed you ! 
 I've brought the carriage, and you must come 
 home with me. Ah, Harry ! So you went to 
 New York to meet 'em, hey ? Couldn't let 'em 
 give you the slip this time." 
 
 But Douglas was exhausted and must get on 
 to the Cross Roads with Harry. They would 
 both go soon to Berkeley Castle. 
 
 "I pass Beechwood as I come on down," 
 chuckled Sandy. "He! he! All de cows was 
 in de corn ! An' dey was busy, too ! I come 
 along an' nuwer say nothin' !" 
 
 ' Then you can hurry right back and drive 
 them out, or tell somebody they are there," said 
 Douglas. 
 
 "Come along with us, boys all of you," 
 said Harry. "We'll put Douglas to bed with 
 a hot brick at his feet, and, by George, we'll have 
 a good old time. Anything to eat and drink at 
 Cross Roads, Caleb ?" 
 
 "Dilsey is bilin' a ham and roastin' the big 
 gest gobbler in the flock ! You lef plenty to 
 drink, Marse Harry, an' you knows whar to 
 find it." 
 
 The Colonel had somewhat dreaded the home-
 
 324 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 coming, and had wondered how he could meet 
 Shirley calmly. To his surprise and delight, 
 he felt no agitation whatever. That was all 
 over ! He had shut the gate behind him and 
 resolved never to look back. He felt exultant 
 that he could have obtained so complete a 
 mastery over himself ! 
 We shall see !
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 WHEN Harry found Douglas sufficiently rested, 
 he proposed they should pay their respects to the 
 ladies at Berkeley Castle, who had just returned 
 from their annual visit to the mountains not, 
 however, to the White Sulphur. Nobody except 
 the Colonel and Anne knew of the attachment 
 of Douglas to Shirley -- and whether it had sur 
 vived the long separation the Colonel was in 
 doubt. Douglas had not the faintest intention 
 of ever approaching Shirley. He was now a poor 
 man, and although Dr. Berkeley had met him 
 with every possible expression of affection, much 
 of it may have been from pity. 
 
 The dinner party, however, was cheerful. 
 Mrs. Berkeley was all smiles and kindness ; 
 Dorothea brave in new ribbons and ecstatic in her 
 complete possession of her adored friend. Miss 
 Prissy was never cleverer or kinder ; the Doctor 
 affability itself. Shirley, however, was silent, 
 and shook her head when invited to sing. She 
 was "out of practice a little hoarse from the 
 mountain air to-morrow, please." They talked 
 
 325
 
 326 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 over the wonderful new land its peculiarities, 
 its promises. 
 
 At last good nights were in order. "Early 
 hours for our invalid," said the Doctor, and the 
 party separated for the night. 
 
 "Rock me a little while, please, Shirley," 
 Dorothea begged. "I'm not a bit sleepy. 
 It's such a hot night ; let's go out on the porch." 
 
 On the veranda overlooking the garden, Shir 
 ley took the tired little girl in her arms. The 
 long-limbed child managed to maintain her place 
 in her sister's lap by clasping her arms around 
 her waist. "Don't make her go to bed yet, 
 Milly," Shirley entreated. "She is so warm! 
 Let her stay awhile in the cool air. And it is 
 so lovely here in the moonlight." 
 
 To her surprise, Douglas appeared from the 
 garden, threw away the remnant of a cigar, and 
 drew up a chair beside them, "Just for a moment," 
 he said. "I heard the Doctor order early hours 
 for everybody." He sat in silence for some 
 minutes, looking out upon the garden in the soft 
 light. 
 
 "Was there ever such a night?" he said. 
 "A moon nearly full and the star 'hallowed 
 by lutes in Lesbos' close by." 
 
 " Is that an importation from the tropics
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 327 
 
 or is it original ?" Shirley asked, as she gently 
 rocked her little sister. 
 
 "Original ? Oh, no ! I wish it were. It is a 
 trifle that somehow clings to me. Never read it ? 
 Well, I must send it to you. I don't know that I 
 can lay my hand upon it right away, all my 
 belongings are in such disorder, but perhaps 
 I can copy from memory. I can at least try." 
 
 "Why not repeat it now for Dolly and me. Are 
 you too much fatigued ? Dolly adores poetry, 
 you know. You aren't asleep, are you, dear ? " 
 
 Douglas hesitated. "Really! Do you want 
 it really ? You are sure ? I don't know that 
 you would care for it. It is a favourite of mine, 
 but hardly worth your hearing. Are you sure ?" 
 
 "Quite sure! It sounds lovely 'lutes in 
 Lesbos ' ! One can almost hear the harps of the 
 ^Eolians." 
 
 "Well, I'll spare you part of the poet's rhap 
 sodies. You see he becomes fascinated with a 
 pair of beautiful eyes. He proceeds to speculate 
 upon their source : 
 
 "Was it from yon lone orb that ever by 
 The quiet moon, like Hope on Patience, hovers ; 
 The star to which hath sped so many a sigh 
 Since lutes in Lesbos hallowed it to lovers, 
 
 Was that your fount, sweet eyes ?"
 
 328 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Douglas hesitated, doubting the propriety of 
 repeating the ensuing verses. Presently Shirley 
 said : "That is charming. The lady answered ?" 
 " It appears she was not expected to answer, or 
 the poet knew perhaps what she would say, for he 
 continues, let me see," steadying his voice : 
 
 " Ye sibyl books, in which the truths foretold 
 Inspire the heart, your dreaming priest, with gladness, 
 Bright alchemists that turn to thoughts of gold 
 The leaden cares ye steal away from sadness, 
 
 Teach only mf, sweet eyes ! " 
 
 Another pause then in lower tones : 
 
 " Hush ! When I ask ye how at length to gain 
 The cell where love the sleeper yet lies hidden, 
 Loose not those arch lips from their rosy chain ; 
 Be every answer save your own forbidden 
 
 Feelings are words for eyes !" 
 
 Dorothea, lying close to her sister's bosom, 
 perceived a gentle, unheard sigh. Disengaging 
 herself from her sister's arms, she looked earnestly 
 into her face. "Now, Douglas, you are just like 
 you used to be ! You're going to make Shirley 
 cry, like you did the last time you were here," 
 she said, sitting up and turning reproachful eyes 
 towards him. "I haven't forgotten." 
 
 "Hush, Dolly ! Lie still don't talk."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 329 
 
 "Yes, he did ! I heard you say " 
 
 "HusH, Dorothea ! Mammy ! This is Dolly's 
 bedtime. Come for her, please." 
 
 "'Tisn't anything wrong I'm going to tell," 
 said the child, aggrieved and anxious to be under 
 stood. " Tisn't anything about Mr. Blake." 
 
 "Oh, Dolly, Dolly! Stop talking good 
 night." 
 
 But Dorothea felt she was in the right if 
 only she had a chance to prove it ! Milly came 
 in at the moment, and she begged, " Pm so tired ! 
 carry me, Mammy ! " 
 
 "Tote you? --you great big girl! If you 
 was at the Springs, you'd be dancin' this minit ! 
 Just tote yose'f on yo own two footses ! Come 
 along an' wash an' go to bed." 
 
 "Kiss me good night, then, Shirley! You 
 know you cried that night long time ago. I 
 haven't forgotten ! You just cried an' cried, 
 and said, 'Oh, Douglas, Douglas /' And that's 
 why I know he made you." 
 
 Our dear masculine fellow-traveller in this vale 
 of tears is prone to declare that he is apt to 
 stumble upon his ultimate hour by accident. He 
 has loved his ladye fayre, oh, yes, no doubt 
 about that, and he intended some day to tell 
 her so, but some unforeseen circumstance had
 
 330 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 brought the denouement when he had least ex 
 pected it and had really at the time no such inten 
 tion whatever. Of course it is the fortunate case 
 that is so frankly revealed. Such spontaneous 
 avowals bursting forth malgre lui are pretty apt 
 to be successful. On this occasion Douglas was 
 silent. He had not intended to say one word to 
 Shirley to distress her, as he felt he had no right 
 to as he fully believed an avowal of his love 
 would do and yet ! He sat silent, apparently 
 intensely interested in watching the moon as 
 it slowly passed behind a little fugitive cloud. 
 Presently it turned a corner of the cloud and 
 looked him full in the face. 
 
 Moonlight has been known to exert a malign 
 power over human beings, but on this occasion 
 the influence was distinctly clarifying. Shirley's 
 face was turned upward, for she too felt the need 
 of watching the manoeuvres of the little cloud. 
 Suddenly some mysterious message, coming they 
 knew not whence, seemed to be borne on the 
 night wind to both of them. A great light all at 
 once broke into their benighted souls. All at 
 once the mists rolled away, and they saw and 
 understood. Douglas rose and stood before her. 
 "Shirley," he said, bending to look into her 
 eyes. "Shirley ! Have you no word for me ?"
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 331 
 
 He could say no more. There was no need for 
 more. The words were few and brokenly uttered, 
 but the passionate eyes told the story. Shir 
 ley met the ardent eyes sincerely. She had no 
 need to question her own heart. She had known 
 it all the time. Now she knew his ! " It was for 
 you and not for Anne that he sang that night," 
 whispered the wind. "It was for you that she 
 sorrowed. Her tears were for you" was the mes 
 sage to Douglas. 
 
 He had no need to ask again. Putting her 
 hand in his, she whispered with her own rare 
 smile : 
 
 " Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear ! " 
 
 When Shirley retired to her room that night, 
 she looked long at the little night-gowned figure 
 on her bed, and finally stooped and kissed the 
 small sunburned face. "The darling ! Cousin 
 James's little Duchess ! May God bless her, and 
 spare her for just such happiness as mine." 
 
 For Douglas, sleep was out of the question. 
 He returned to the garden, intending to seek his 
 old place for contemplation under the willows 
 beyond the wall, but perceiving a light in the 
 Colonel's window, he looked in and begged for 
 a few minutes. "I come to you first, my dear
 
 332 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Colonel, in my great happiness ! I owe it all to 
 you ! A man who has never loved cannot meas 
 ure the height and depth of the flood that over 
 whelms me ! God knows I have not deserved it ! 
 Shirley has promised to be my wife." 
 
 The Colonel wrung his hand silently and 
 found a few murmured words of congratulation. 
 He had expected this had worked to bring it 
 about and yet 
 
 "We did not forget you in our supreme hour, 
 dear Colonel ! Shirley spoke of you so tenderly ! 
 You are to belong to us and we to you re 
 member that; you are to live at Catesby and 
 let us work for you and take care of you." 
 
 "And leave my little Duchess ! That would 
 never do ! Besides, I shall not be here. I am 
 going on another journey, you know. But we 
 will have the Doctor down upon us ! I must say 
 good night and God bless you and drive you 
 off to bed." 
 
 He shut his door and extinguished his light and 
 in the darkness clasped his upraised hands 
 a silent invocation for strength. He had borne 
 the spectacle of Shirley's tears of her sorrow. 
 He had borne his own; but now he "tasted the 
 bitterness of looking into happiness through 
 another man's eyes."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 333 
 
 He was not the man to indulge in weak self-pity. 
 Evidently it was ordained that he should suffer 
 loss and defeat. So be it ! Why should he wish 
 for happiness purchased at the expense of an 
 other ? True, he had sowed, and another 
 had reaped. He had fostered and cherished 
 and loved, and served through the long years 
 another had risen at the harvest time and gath 
 ered to his bosom the golden sheaves. But of 
 these things he would think no more. With 
 the rising of the next ^sun he would take up his 
 life again. 
 
 First, he must finish and send off his book. 
 Shirley must have a suitable dotarium. Then when 
 she was safely in her new home, and there was 
 much to be done to fit that home for her, he 
 would go North, see and consult his old friend Mr. 
 Bancroft, make the acquaintance of his New York 
 publishers, and commence work in his new pro 
 fession. If only it were possible for him to leave 
 at once ! But no ; that would be a poor return 
 for the heavenly kindness of the Berkeleys 
 for his little Dorothea's love for Shirley's 
 trust. He must hasten the book there was 
 really little more to do to it and demand pay 
 ment immediately upon its acceptance. Of the 
 latter he had not a shadow of doubt. Only
 
 334 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 yes, he remembered, there was that anachro 
 nism in the third chapter to be corrected, and 
 the final pages of the denouement did not run 
 smoothly, and oh ! why, to be sure, there was 
 that serious discrepancy in time in the eighth 
 chapter events crowded into a week when a 
 month would have been too short, and light 
 ing his candles, long past midnight, he found the 
 keys to his secretary, drew forth the precious 
 manuscript from which he hoped so much, and 
 plunged into his corrections. Thus, wounded, 
 defeated as he was, he found, as many another 
 poor writer has found, as many will find to the 
 end of time, a little window in the darkened 
 chamber of his pain opened by two angels. To 
 gether they entered, hand in hand, and the 
 name of the one was " Imagination " and the name 
 of the other was "Work" !
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 IT is needless to attempt to describe the inter 
 view in the study next morning. Everything 
 that could be said, generous, cordial, welcom 
 ing, the Doctor said to Douglas Newton in re 
 sponse to the young man's pathetic expression of 
 his sense of unworthiness. 'You say she has 
 promised you, my little girl ! She will keep her 
 promise! She is like her mother!" Going to 
 the door, he called, "Shirley, Shirley, you bag 
 gage, where are you ?" 
 
 "Here, Papa," was answered from the lawn 
 immediately under the window. She had been 
 walking among the roses stooping finally to 
 select a "red, red rose" and pin it in her bosom. 
 "What is it, Papa ? Ah, Douglas ! You told 
 me you were going." 
 
 "Well, he hasn't gone ! Look, at him ! Is that 
 your idea of a man to take you away from your 
 old father ? What do you see in him ?" 
 
 "Not half as much as I see in you, Papa 
 darling." 
 
 " Then why is he chosen from the Gordons and 
 Carringtons and all the rest ?" 
 
 335
 
 336 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "He isn't. He did the choosing ! And I 
 thought we might improve him ! He needs it ! 
 He really does need you, Papa dear ! Think of 
 the dreadful mistakes he makes in pronuncia 
 tion," and she added with a quivering smile, 
 "And he can sing a good song and recites 
 oh, very well indeed ! " 
 
 The Doctor essayed to speak, failed, cleared 
 his throat and finally putting her hand into 
 her lover's hand, pushed them gently out of the 
 room and shut the door. Sinking into his arm 
 chair, he buried his face in his hands for a long 
 time. Those old Virginians rarely showed deep 
 emotion. Dignity forbade an exhibition of feel 
 ing before witnesses. Ringing his bell, he or 
 dered Pizarro to request the Colonel to come to 
 him in the study, from which neither emerged 
 until after Douglas left, driven to the depot by 
 Shirley in the little cart with Primrose ; Douglas 
 having decided to go immediately to Richmond. 
 
 "It seems, James," said the Doctor, as the 
 Colonel entered, "that we have been going along 
 here with our eyes shut. I was just thinking 
 how fortunate I am to have brought Shirley 
 heart-whole from the Springs, when here comes 
 Douglas Newton and tells me she has promised to 
 marry him ! I could hardly have had a more
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 337 
 
 unpleasant piece of information. I feel I had a 
 right to expect a better match for her. This 
 accounts for Shirley's loss of interest in society 
 and her sadness all summer. Are you not 
 feeling well, James ? You are very pale ; any 
 chill, eh ? " 
 
 "Not at all! I'm all right. Go ahead, 
 Charley ! This is news indeed." 
 
 " It is too late to consider my own feeling in the 
 matter, but, you see, I am considerably em 
 barrassed just now for ready money and I am 
 unalterably opposed to long engagements. I 
 suppose I shall have to insist upon one, however, 
 at least until next year's crops are harvested." 
 
 "No, no, Charley ! That will never do !" said 
 the Colonel, earnestly. "Nothing must interfere 
 with nothing must delay Shirley's unfortu 
 nately I am not very well fixed myself just now 
 or I could help materially. I can at least go on a 
 bond with you, and I am sure I shall soon have a 
 large sum from my book. I must hurry it off 
 to the publishers." 
 
 " If I had not been such a blind fool," said the 
 Doctor, gloomily, "I might have prevented 
 Shirley's engagement. I could have taken her 
 abroad. She is a splendid girl, and could have 
 graced a palace ! Yes, I know 'Douglas is a fine
 
 338 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 fellow.' Of course he's a fine fellow ! Nobody 
 can deny that. But what becomes of our in 
 herited belief that blood will tell?" 
 
 "And so it will always," said the Colonel, 
 firmly. "Douglas Newton proves it. One un 
 fortunate mistake can never discrown a fine old 
 family. It only throws into higher relief some 
 superb action like this of Douglas. Judge 
 Watkins told me he did not hesitate a moment, 
 and really made him feel ashamed of the argu 
 ments he felt should be urged against hasty 
 action. Blood does tell ! Many a man wouldn't 
 condone a fraud, but you see Douglas couldn't. 
 Blood does tell." 
 
 . The Doctor sighed. "God grant it ! One 
 thing is certain, it never tells at the Bank. 
 It never lifts a mortgage or discounts a note or 
 cancels a security. It's a mighty poor substitute 
 for competent fortune in this world of ours." 
 
 The Colonel was silent, and the Doctor con 
 tinued, as he paced the floor impatiently : "A 
 country doctor has a hard road to travel ! He 
 is compelled to neglect his plantation, and he 
 must practise on all the poor neighbours. How 
 can he ever make money ? He never thinks of 
 such a possibility. Of course, I could postpone 
 the marriage, distress Shirley, distress her
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 339 
 
 mother. Tears at home ! No no ! I am 
 absolutely opposed to long engagements, but 
 it is hard that I cannot establish her as she 
 deserves. At all events, I must have some 
 ready money for her manage it somehow." 
 The Doctor's office was at the end of the long 
 house, one window opening pleasantly upon the 
 front lawn and the other shaded by an apple 
 tree. Dorothea's summer desk was in this 
 tree, and a seat for herself and board on which 
 to rest her book had been provided for her con 
 venience. She had climbed into this tree with 
 her geography in her hand this morning to begin 
 her lessons, now that her teacher had returned, 
 and was absently attempting, with much repeti 
 tion, to bound the kingdom of France ; her 
 attention sorely divided by Gabriella's futile 
 attempts to join her, and her own eager 
 interest in the preparations going on under the 
 trees at the other end of the house for breaking 
 into small cubes the pyramidal loaves of sugar. 
 Her attention had been arrested when she per 
 ceived, from the tones of her father's voice, that 
 he was annoyed. She understood little of his 
 agitated, fragmentary talk, as he paced the 
 narrow round of his room, but from that little 
 she presently perceived he was in some great
 
 340 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 trouble. The Colonel had not tried to comfort 
 him perhaps he, too, was heartbroken. The 
 last sentence reached her distinctly. Evidently 
 something dreadful had happened which money 
 would mend. She slipped down from her arbo 
 real seat, ran into her room, and in a few minutes 
 knocked at her father's door. 
 
 "Ah ! here is our little Duchess," said the 
 Colonel, "and we are too busy to talk to her just 
 
 now." 
 
 "Oh, but I must come in, Cousin James ! 
 Papa always has let me help him, ever since 
 you've been away. I've brought him some 
 thing ! " 
 
 She put a little box in her father's hands. It 
 contained a string of coral, a little carnelian 
 heart on a tiny chain, a gold bangle, and her 
 amber beads. 
 
 "I can't look at these now, Dorothea," he 
 said gravely. "Run along to your Mother. 
 Don't come in again. I am busy." 
 
 "But, Papa ! You can sell the things and get 
 money for Shirley. They are worth oh 
 a great deal of money. They are my four last 
 birthday's my birthday presents from God 
 mother Ponsonby. I did have two rings, but 
 I lost one," and she drew a little turquoise
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 341 
 
 from her finger and proudly added it to the 
 rest. 
 
 The two men looked at each other. The 
 Colonel clasped her to his bosom silently, and she 
 saw a tear in his eye. "A little child leads us, 
 Charley," he said. " See ! She has brought 
 the whole of her fortune ! We mustn't grudge 
 ours ! Our Shirley" and here his voice trem 
 bled "our beautiful Shirley is to be happy 
 at all risks. She must marry the man she 
 loves." 
 
 The Doctor nodded ; for a moment he could 
 not speak. Giving her back her little box, he 
 brushed his handkerchief across his eyes and 
 turned to his book-shelves. The Colonel took 
 her in his arms, she was a very small child, 
 carried her to the window, and explained that 
 there would be no need for her sacrifice, that all 
 would be arranged for Shirley. The sound of 
 wheels and girlish laughter reached them from 
 the avenue. Shirley was driving her lover along 
 "the road to Paradise" on his first errand of 
 love ! 
 
 Douglas did not reveal the object of that 
 errand. He had in his pocket the small lump 
 of pure virgin gold which he had found the last 
 day of his stay in California, when he had driven
 
 342 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 with Dr. Wierzbicki into the country "to test 
 his strength." "An omen," the doctor had 
 said. He was taking it to a jeweller to be made 
 into a ring for Shirley. A ring of gems was 
 never chosen in those days gems had no 
 sentiment; but the circle had no beginning, 
 no end. Besides, a band of gold could be 
 engraved within and Douglas chose that the 
 ring for Shirley should have pressed the finger 
 of no woman, been offered for sale to no man, 
 but come direct from the hand of the Creator to 
 her. The initials of the two were to be fol 
 lowed by the one word, "Pledge." 
 
 Shirley's first duty was to announce her en 
 gagement to her godmother and ask for her 
 blessing. A few days later, old Jacob appeared 
 on horseback. a less responsible messenger 
 could not be trusted with a letter to Dr. 
 Berkeley. From her window Shirley had seen 
 his coming, with a beating heart she well 
 knew the old lady and was relieved at find 
 ing that the message was for her father. "Poor 
 dear," thought Shirley ; " I hope I haven't given 
 her a turn ! She has sent for Papa, I'm afraid." 
 
 About "the turn" there could be no doubt 
 not the least. In agitated, trembling characters, 
 Mrs. Ponsonby had written:
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 343 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 I am astounded by the news that the daughter of Charles 
 Carter Berkeley and Mary Randolph Blair is to be given 
 in marriage to the son of Henry Newton. The child must 
 be crazy ! And so must you be, my dear Charles, to permit 
 such a mesalliance. 
 
 Your inconsolable cousin, 
 
 ELIZABETH PONSONBY. 
 
 The Doctor perceived that this was no time 
 for trifling, cajoling, or persuading. In his 
 firm hand, he wrote a reply that petrified, for 
 a time, the irate old aristocrat : 
 
 MY DEAR COUSIN ELIZABETH, 
 
 You have often showed me the diamond necklace you 
 wore when you were presented at Court, and called my 
 attention to a flaw in one of the stones. You never re 
 moved that stone from your chain, nor did the fact that 
 one of the gems contained a blemish diminish your appre 
 ciation of the others. 
 
 Your respectful and consoled cousin, 
 
 CHARLES BERKELEY.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 "I THINK, Mary," said Miss Prissy, a few 
 days after the engagement had been made known 
 to her, "the best thing for me to do will be to 
 go at once to Richmond, stay a week or two 
 with Mary James, and get whatever Shirley will 
 need. Of course she will wear your veil, laces, 
 and pearls. I can select samples at Price's to 
 be sent to you, and engage Mrs. McComas for 
 her frocks, and I should like to see Mme. Viglini's 
 bonnets before they are all picked over. If 
 there's one thing I understand, it's choosing 
 linen ! I never even ask the price until I draw 
 a thread clear across the width, and that's the 
 only way you can tell whether it is all pure flax. 
 Then there's the white satin. If you don't want 
 it to yellow, it must be a clear salt-white, not 
 a bit on the cream. Betty Oliver has a cousin 
 in Richmond who works with a seamstress, and 
 Betty thinks she will be glad to come and stay 
 until all the sewing is done. I could bring her, 
 and we could go to work at once. They've 
 given us short notice, but Elvira and Mildred 
 and all the girls will help." 
 
 344
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 345 
 
 So early one crisp morning Miss Prissy was 
 driven by the Colonel to the depot, with a little 
 brass-studded, hair-covered trunk and a small 
 bandbox as her sole baggage, for a week's stay 
 in the metropolis. She stopped at Miss Betty 
 Oliver's to consult her and engage her services. " I 
 can do the work," she assured Miss Prissy, "if I 
 can get Polly Oliver to help. She's the neatest 
 hand at hemstitching you ever saw ! And as to 
 felling and whipping ruffles, she can't be beat. 
 And she's as steady as any old woman ! I'll 
 engage to do some of the white work and the 
 morning-gowns. But one thing I do ask, and 
 that is I don't want any bundles or messages 
 sent here by the Doctor's gardener. He was 
 either drunk or crazy here one day last year. 
 I have no desire to interfere with any of the 
 Doctor's management, but give me negroes 
 every time ! " 
 
 "I hope Andy didn't misbehave ! Why didn't 
 you tell me ? Perhaps you misunderstood him. 
 He speaks broad Scotch, you know." 
 
 "Well, I claim to be as patient as most. I 
 stand all them Perkinses and Hawkinses, walk 
 ing about here as if the place belonged to 'em, 
 and they only renters, -- but you know, Miss 
 Prissy, a lone woman has no call to be insulted
 
 346 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 in Scotch any more than English. Least of all 
 by a serving man, and that's what your 
 Andy is." 
 
 " No, not exactly ! Andy belongs to a reputable 
 clan. He isn't classed with the servants. He 
 lives to himself and intrudes upon nobody. 
 Charles has such a way with him, everybody 
 loves him, and he thinks a great deal of Andy. 
 He has been just splendid in the garden !" 
 
 "Well, let him stay there; that's all I ask." 
 
 "But you haven't told me what he did. He'll 
 not stay there, Betty, if he has been offensive to 
 you." 
 
 "He asked me to marry him, that's all ! 
 What do you think of that ?" 
 
 " What ! Andy asked you to marry him ! 
 Of all the impudence !" 
 
 "That's what I say ! And the worst of it is, 
 he has spiled my record. Over and over, these 
 men about here have thrown it up to me, 'there 
 was never a woman with any sort of a face and 
 figger that hadn't had an offer,' and I was 
 proud always to say, 'here's one! 9 No, Miss 
 Prissy ! I've had many sorrows, and disap 
 pointments in my work failin' to please, and the 
 railroad comin' and all my white clothes ruined, 
 and them Perkinses and Hawkinses, but I
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 347 
 
 could say, no man had ever made bold to make 
 up to me before ! He's spiled my record ! " 
 
 "You must try to forget it. Remember, he 
 may not be quite sound in his head." 
 
 "He won't be, if he tries any such trick a 
 second time ! I thank my heavenly Father that 
 all the settin' and sewin' and low spirits and 
 disappintments haven't taken away the strength 
 of my right arm ! I think I gave him a good 
 scare but now that I'm to have Polly with me, 
 I shall have to be extra careful." 
 
 Miss Prissy again advised her to think of it 
 no more, assured her kindly of the respect in 
 which everybody held her, and promised that 
 the gardener should be sent on no errands, and 
 in no way permitted to outrage her feelings ; 
 at the same time apologizing for poor Angus, 
 for whom she had much respect. 
 
 Shirley's marriage was arranged for Christmas 
 Eve. Douglas had his profession of the law, 
 and he at once proceeded to give an illustration 
 of his powers as an advocate. He reasoned that 
 the sooner he "settled down" with a wife, the 
 better would be his success ; that a man's life 
 never really begins until he marries, and 
 when the case was brought before Shirley, it 
 was easily won.
 
 348 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 The months of anxiety had left Shirley with im 
 paired strength and nerves unstrung. Douglas 
 was the first to observe this, and he felt that the 
 home at Cross Roads would afford less quiet and 
 comfort than she needed. Catesby was out of 
 the question. Wingfield's good management had 
 yielded finely during the year for Harry, who 
 now proposed that Douglas and Shirley should 
 spend the winter as his guests in Florida. Dur 
 ing the winter, the house at Catesby could be 
 made comfortable. 
 
 "I'll return your visit and spend the summer 
 with you," said Harry, "and have my place 
 made fit for a lady to live in. 'Find the lady 
 first !' She'll be easier to find, maybe, if I 
 make a lovely garden for her." 
 
 In Virginia a wedding was a great event, 
 second to none other. The family connection 
 was large. Many branches had sprung from 
 the tree planted by the first Berkeley, the first 
 Newton, and everybody was coming for the 
 double event of Christmas and Shirley's wedding. 
 
 As the time drew near, every pair of hands 
 was demanded for service. On fine mornings, 
 the Colonel and Dorothea might be seen lead 
 ing a procession of little negroes, like an antique 
 frieze, bearing on their shoulders mighty coils
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 349 
 
 of the running cedar of Virginia, which 
 lends itself so gracefully for decoration ; its 
 soft tufts of green --like curled ostrich plumes 
 growing at intervals on long pliant stems. 
 
 These were piled on the veranda, to loop 
 every curtain and to outline every picture, 
 window, and doorway. 
 
 Anxious visits were paid to Andy and to the 
 conservatory to find whether the camellias 
 would bloom in time, or the orange trees yield 
 a bud or two for the bride. Long rows of wax 
 candles were to be placed in position along the 
 walls and over the arched doors. Wreaths 
 were to be hung from the antlers in the hall, 
 and over the doors and windows. 
 
 Dorothea's excitement was quickened when 
 " Cousin Frances " a sweet little maiden lady 
 with much lavender about her garments 
 arrived to claim the privilege of writing the 
 wedding invitations. This she considered her 
 due as a near relative. Her fine Italian hand 
 seemed peculiarly suitable for occasions of high 
 ceremony. Delicately traced on thick glazed 
 paper, embossed with an orange blossom in 
 silver, --to be tied finally with satin ribbon and 
 delivered, as far as possible, personally, were 
 the words deemed most suitable by Cousin
 
 350 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Frances : " The pleasure of your company is 
 requested Thursday evening, December the 
 twenty-fourth, etc." 
 
 "Request the honour of your presence at the 
 marriage of their daughter Shirley ?" No, in 
 deed; Cousin Frances would have considered 
 this too intimate and unconventional. Shirley, 
 gliding about the house with uplifted spirit, 
 was treated with unwonted respect. Nobody 
 would dare outrage her delicacy by jesting allu 
 sions to her marriage. "Come here now, Miss 
 Shirley, and he'p me beat dese aigs," called 
 Hannah, one day from the pantry. "Now I 
 gwine fine out whose weddin'-cake dis is ! Ef 
 it's yown, you won't have no heart to beat dese 
 aigs. Dar now ! What I tell you ? Good-bye, 
 Miss Shirley ! Don't you run so fas', honey ; 
 Hannah ain' gwine tease you no mo'." 
 
 All this seems very absurd in these times. 
 The modest isolation and reticence of a bride 
 her hidings and veilings are long ago out of 
 fashion with us. If we like them, we must go 
 to the Orient to find them. What would our 
 Shirley have thought of seeing her engagement 
 announced upon the pages of The New York 
 Clarion? Autre temps, autrcs mceurs ! 
 
 Cousin Frances had brought her choicest
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 351 
 
 present for the bride. As soon as she had, with 
 other relatives, been told of the engagement, 
 she had painted wonderful roses on white velvet. 
 With this she had lined two large, clear 
 glass jars, achieving an underglaze unattained 
 by anything known in ceramic art. The jars, 
 lest some unhappy blunderer should imagine 
 them designed for vulgar use, she filled with 
 white sand. To this present for the mantel, she 
 added one she deemed suitable for the centre- 
 table. She moulded in wax a cluster of pond- 
 lilies, buds, and leaves. These she mirrored on 
 a miniature lake, and spanned them with a 
 clear hemisphere of glass. Could Earth, Air, 
 and Water be typified with more exquisite 
 delicacy ? 
 
 The Colonel's face was a study when he found 
 these art treasures on the parlour mantel, ranged 
 in line with the Venus, the School of Athens, 
 and the Barberini vase. 
 
 He took the latter in his hand, and looked at 
 it long and earnestly. 
 
 "Take care, Cousin James !" cried Dorothea. 
 "Mama says it will break if you look at it." 
 
 "Break!" he said bitterly. "It was broken 
 long ago. It has never lived since. I was just 
 wondering how much longer the little Love would
 
 352 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 fly on broken wing! However," he sighed, "if 
 there is no other blow, it may live on, brokenly, 
 a long time yet." 
 
 When the boxes from Richmond and presents 
 from distant friends began to arrive, Primrose, 
 the Colonel, and Dorothea literally lived on 
 the road to and from the station. She long 
 remembered his growing silence and sadness. 
 Impatient, like all children, of a discordant 
 note, she one day asked him what he was always 
 "so blue about." 
 
 "Blue, indeed !" he cried. "When I was just 
 thinking, you little ingrate, what a comfort you 
 are to me." But he sighed as he murmured, 
 "Grosse seelen dulden still" 
 
 One day Milly confided to Miss Prissy wrath- 
 fully: "None o' you-all thinkin' 'bout the 
 Cunnul in all this fuss ! I cert'nly does de 
 spise to hear folks talkin' to deyse'f ! An' he 
 talk outlandish, too ! Hit's a mighty bad sign. 
 Then ergin what de matter with Miss Nancy ? 
 Sump'n done stir up ole Miss Nancy ! Folks 
 tell me she cyarn re s 1 ! Miss Nancy oneasy in her 
 mine 'bout the Cunnel sho's you bawn." 
 
 When Dorothea repeated this, he did not smile 
 as she intended he should. He looked into the 
 child's face wistfully, and she ventured: "What
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 353 
 
 does 'Grosse seelen dulden still' mean, Cousin 
 James ?" 
 
 " Let me see something like this, Dolly," 
 and he repeated slowly : 
 
 11 For not to think of what I needs must feel, 
 But to be still and patient all I can : 
 This is my whole resource my only plan ; 
 Till that which suits a part infects the whole 
 And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.* 
 
 "Poor Milly," he added. "I must be careful 
 not to distress her with my 'Grosse seelen' and 
 such heathenisms." 
 
 All this seemed so foreign to his usual tempera 
 ment that the child felt a sort of vague anxiety ; 
 hardly more intelligent, however, than the tran 
 sient uneasiness of an animal when a cloud passes 
 over the sun. But it comforted her in after years 
 to remember that she did observe and did sympa 
 thize. 
 
 He looked ill a few days before the wedding, 
 and finding that he proposed going again to 
 the station, Dr. Berkeley forbade him. "But, 
 Charley, it is important," he pleaded. 
 
 " Important, is it ? Well, then, I shall go my 
 self. You are overworked in this house ! The 
 best thing for you to do, Jim, is to lie right down 
 
 2A
 
 354 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 here in my study, and let Mary and Dolly talk 
 you to sleep. It will rest Mary and delight 
 Dolly." 
 
 "Indeed," said Mrs. Berkeley, "I am not 
 young enough for James and Dorothea." 
 
 The dear Colonel lay down as he was bidden, 
 and smiling up into her face quoted from a lovely 
 poem they had recently read together : - 
 
 ' I am a child and she is a child ! 
 And our love is stronger by far than the love 
 
 Of those who are older than we 
 
 Of many far wiser than we 
 For this maiden she lives with no other thought 
 
 Than to love and be loved by me.' 
 
 " That's a little mixed, Dolly, but it's true, isn't 
 it, dear?" And somehow the child knew his 
 heart was broken, and that she comforted him 
 knew it, and was herself comforted. 
 
 Her mother was sitting beside the fire, with 
 Dorothea in her arms, and the Colonel with 
 closed eyes had seemed to have fallen asleep, 
 when the Doctor burst in with, "Here you are, 
 James ! Your turn this time. Here's a present 
 for you." 
 
 "At last ! At last !" cried the Colonel, spring 
 ing to his feet. The cords were quickly cut from 
 a neat, compact parcel, and under the folds of the
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 355 
 
 thick brown paper lay his returned manuscript. 
 His arms dropped helplessly to his side. A letter 
 fell from the inner covering. He flushed pain 
 fully as he read it. It was from the chief of a 
 great New York publishing house and contained 
 not the transparent fiction of an apology based 
 upon "a great mass of material on hand just at 
 present," - but the fair and square announce 
 ment that nothing could be done with the book, 
 which "failed to reach the standard demanded 
 by the reading public." In such fashion did 
 editors dispose of contributors in the forties. 
 
 "Ah, James, don't!" said Mrs. Berkeley, as 
 his face paled and his lips tightened. 
 
 "Don't tell Shirley," he whispered. 
 
 "But I'm here, Cousin James I know!" 
 Coming to him, she knelt beside the lounge, and 
 put her arms around his neck. 
 
 "Give it to me for my wedding-present. It 
 will be lovely to have it for my own mine 
 only, not the world's. And Cousin James, I 
 have an idea ! You said it was noble, and about 
 us. We will act it -- live it ! I shall call Doug 
 las 'Harold.' I am his 'Gwenlian.' ' 
 
 "Will you, Shirley ? I have not been feel 
 ing very well. Thank you, dear Shirley." But 
 his hands trembled painfully as he loosed her
 
 356 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 arms from his neck. He fell back, white and 
 anguished, upon the lounge. 
 
 "By Jove, Jim," cried the Doctor, impatiently, 
 "what is all this about ? Do you suppose there 
 is only one publisher in the world ? What's the 
 use of making mountains out of mole-hills ? Get 
 up from that lounge. Bring out the blue coat and 
 brass buttons. Likely as not you will have to 
 give the bride away. Stevens is waiting for me 
 at the gate. Unless he can get Hargrave to see 
 his wife, I shall have to go to-morrow or next 
 day. If Mary Jane has any conscience, she'll let 
 me off in time. There's no help for it. The 
 girl has dangerous symptoms, and Hargrave is 
 afraid he can't go. He has another just such 
 case!" 
 
 "Oh, Papa," began Shirley, in distress, but she 
 controlled herself when the Colonel exclaimed : 
 "Of course I'll do it '! I shall'love to do it." 
 
 "James needs a bark tonic, Charles," said Mrs. 
 Berkeley, as she followed her husband out of the 
 room. " I've noticed it for some time. He has 
 fallen off, and looks wretchedly." 
 
 "James needs nothing of the kind," he re 
 torted. "What he really needs is a good fox 
 hunt. You women tie a fellow to your apron- 
 strings ; make him errand boy, nurse, chief-cook,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 357 
 
 what-not; lock up his liver with jams and 
 syllabub, and then want me to physic him." 
 
 "You doctors," laughed his wife, "can blister, 
 bleed, and set bones, but you can't even see 
 when a man is run down with dumb chills."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE house was soon filling fast with a gay 
 company. The bridesmaids, Rosalie, Anne, Mil 
 dred, and Elvira of the early summer-house party, 
 had arrived, bringing a white box containing the 
 "favours" they had made among themselves. 
 The custom, borrowed from the Spanish, of wear 
 ing bits cut from the bride's ribbons had blos 
 somed into "bride's favours" a survival of the 
 Spanish custom, first introduced into the mother 
 country when Charles II brought home his 
 Katharine of Portugal to be England's queen. 
 The large white satin rosettes bride's favours 
 worn then by groomsmen survive to-day in 
 boutonnieres made of the bride's flowers. 
 
 The merry bridesmaids pervaded the house 
 and helped with the final touches to the bride's 
 wedding-dress. She was duly provided with 
 
 " Something old, and something new ; 
 Something borrowed and something blue." 
 
 The old was the heirloom of lace, the borrowed 
 an orange blossom or two from the coronal of 
 
 358 

 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 359 
 
 another recent happy bride, the blue a tiny knot 
 of ribbon on the garter, the wearing of those 
 full of significance, linking a bride in the chain 
 which stretches far back to the early stages of the 
 world. The wedding-ring and the choice of the 
 third finger as being connected with the heart 
 are mentioned in old Egyptian literature. The 
 blue ribbon, whether worn as a badge, or order, 
 or at bridals, comes down from the ancient 
 Israelites, who were bidden to put upon the bor 
 ders of their garments a " riband of blue" blue, 
 the colour of purity, loyalty, and fidelity. The 
 old and the new symbolize her past and future, 
 not divided but united. The "something 
 borrowed" signifies a pledge to be redeemed. 
 Nothing is without significance, which accounts 
 for the fact that all these old-time customs con 
 tinue from century to century, and are jealously 
 observed to this day. 
 
 Shirley's bridesmaids assisted in the delight 
 ful task of decorating the wedding supper. A 
 mighty bowl of egg-nog was wreathed with holly 
 in honour of the Christmas Eve ; the tables glit 
 tered with crystal and silver. All was lighted by 
 many silver candelabra, from which depended 
 wonderful ivory-like ornaments made of tissue 
 paper by Cousin Frances. Every dish had its
 
 360 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 garland of green, and all the flowers that Andy 
 and the neighbouring conservatories could fur 
 nish. 
 
 "Tell me, Aunt Milly !" said one of the brides 
 maids, "did you have anything to do with the 
 wedding-cake ?" 
 
 "Did Milly have anythin' do with the weddin'- 
 cake ? I never lef it fum the time the fust aig- 
 shell was cracked ontwel it come out o' the oven." 
 
 "Well, then, could you give just a little hint 
 where the ring was slipped in after it was cold ? 
 Was it near the edge or in the middle ?" 
 
 "Go way, Miss Rosalie ! You ain' got nothin' 
 to do with no ring 'cep'n yo' own weddin'-ring. 
 I'm jes' listenin' now fur yo' Ma to 'gage me to 
 he'p make yo' weddin'-cake ! You jes' go off in 
 a corner with Marse Tawm, an' leave the cut- 
 tin' of that cake to Miss Elvira an' Miss Anne 
 an' Miss Mildred and t' others. You ain' got 
 nothin' to do with it." 
 
 "I think," said little Anne Page to Douglas the 
 evening before the wedding, " it's as little as you 
 can do to make Aunt Milly tell me where she put 
 that ring in the wedding-cake ! Somebody must 
 do something for me ! The whole county gave 
 you to me for three whole months last year, and 
 if you declined to give yourself, who is to blame
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 361 
 
 for it ? Shirley, of course ! But I'll forgive her 
 if she'll find out under what flower the ring is 
 hidden." 
 
 "Take care, Miss Anne ! Don't tempt me too 
 far. You know perfectly well I was detailed for 
 police duty, when 'the county' was kind enough 
 to observe me. I was required by my employer 
 to guard a valuable and elusive piece of property 
 ' as sliddery as an eel,' as Angus would say ; 
 and small thanks did I get, besides damaging my 
 own interests ! I have to request that the feel 
 ings of my best man be respected. Don't drive 
 him to desperation until I have finished with 
 him." 
 
 " I think you need all the help he can give you," 
 she replied; "you are talking rather wildly. I 
 wonder what in the world you mean." 
 
 Douglas laughed. "Oh, Sister Anne, do you 
 see somebody coming ? Patience ! He will 
 come, never fear!" 
 
 Anne tapped her head significantly. "Not 
 quite a' there, I'm afraid," she said sadly and 
 affecting to hear herself called, exclaimed, "Oh, 
 that's Major Selden - - I hope ! He's perfectly 
 charming ! I can never, never understand why 
 Shirley didn't set her cap for him." 
 
 The wedding evening came at last. To Doro-
 
 362 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 thea it seemed a great blur of laughter, tears, 
 kisses, flowers, and an all-pervading whiteness. 
 
 Like the murmuring of many waters were the 
 sounds that filled the house : the frou-frou of 
 silken garments, hurried, eager footsteps ; whis 
 pers, hushed greetings, low musical laughter. 
 Suddenly a stillness fell on the company. Out 
 of it rose the solemn voice of Bishop Meade, as he 
 mingled the cup whereof every son and daughter 
 of Adam must drink wholly or in part ; riches, 
 poverty ; sickness, health ; cleaving, forsaking, 
 parting death. 
 
 " Who giveth this woman to be married to this 
 man ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 And then Shirley - - lately grown so grave, 
 so reserved surprised them all. To be sure 
 only relatives were present but Shirley threw 
 back her veil and kissed the Colonel ! 
 
 Harry was, of course, his brother's best man. 
 After the ceremony was over, supper eaten, 
 healths drunk, he stood among the bridesmaids 
 to assist when the fateful wedding-cake was cut. 
 A long search failed to reveal the ring foretelling 
 the next wedding. The thimble, condemning to 
 spinsterhood, was found by Rosalie to the 
 amusement of many who were already notified of
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 363 
 
 her approaching marriage. Little Dorothea wan 
 dered through the rooms, finding something to do 
 for everybody, and seeing that all the old people 
 and children were served. 
 
 "You haven't said a word to me, Miss Doro 
 thea," said Harry Newton, "and you know you 
 are my little sister now." 
 
 "I don't think so," said Dorothea; "you are 
 always my cousin, like everybody else ; but 
 only Douglas has come into the family. I'm 
 afraid there isn't anybody left for you," she said 
 regretfully. "There's Aunt Prissy !" 
 
 "Ah! now you have it!" said Harry. "I'm 
 devoted to Miss Prissy, but she wouldn't have 
 me. I have decided to wait for you. Yes, yes, 
 I forgot the Colonel ! But I say, Dolly do 
 you see Miss Anne Page anywhere ? Where has 
 she runoff too ?" 
 
 "Cousin Anne is behind the oleander. She 
 hasn't run very far. She said she would rest 
 there a minute. Must I call her ? " 
 
 "No, no, dear ! Let her rest ;" but he at once 
 began to make his way through the crowd to the 
 clump of evergreens and potted plants at the end 
 of the room. There he found Anne, and stood 
 silent before her. 
 
 "It's been such a lovely wedding," she re-
 
 364 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 marked. "I never saw Shirley look as beau 
 tiful." 
 
 No answer, and presently Anne essayed again. 
 "Douglas looks very handsome, too. Everybody 
 is looking well, even old Mrs. Ponsonby. Did 
 you notice the magnificent diamond necklace 
 she gave Shirley every stone pure white and 
 perfect, except one ? The honourable old soul 
 mentioned it." 
 
 Harry was still silent. "Angus, who knows 
 everything past, present, and to come, says we 
 shall have snow to-night," said Anne, talking 
 fast. "We've had the most glorious winter ! I 
 do hope they won't have bad weather for their 
 trip to Florida." 
 
 Harry stood looking at her with an amused 
 smile on his face. Finally as she seemed to 
 have exhausted her stock of subjects for conver 
 sation he said gravely : 
 
 "Anne, how many times have I asked you 
 to promise to marry me as soon as I finish at the 
 University ?" 
 
 "I have no head at all for figures; I always 
 failed in my arithmetic classes at school. And 
 I've a poor memory ! If you asked me once, I've 
 forgotten it. Besides, you ought to have been 
 thinking about your lessons."
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 365 
 
 "Why do you clench your poor little left hand 
 like a prize-fighter ? Oh, Anne, Anne ! / saw 
 you find the ring I and you are hiding it close in 
 that shut hand;" and bending the unresisting 
 fingers apart, he revealed the missing treasure. 
 
 Anne stood like a culprit before him making no 
 resistance. He took the ring from her open palm, 
 put it a moment reverently to his lips, and then 
 gently slipped it upon her third finger. 
 
 "It fits very well," Anne faltered, "and it is 
 a beautiful ring. I didn't tell I had] found it 
 because because " 
 
 "Oh, because," said Harry, "you knew my 
 hour had come ! It fits, yes because it was 
 intended from the beginning of the world for 
 you and was made and sent and found to be 
 my darling's prophetic ring ! There's dear old 
 Douglas looking at us across the room. Let 
 both of us kiss our hands to him he'll under 
 stand." 
 
 Anne had now recovered herself. "Of course 
 I am willing to kiss my hand to Douglas, but you 
 see, Harry, I've not said ' 
 
 "No, dear, you've not said a word! Ah! 
 there's Douglas waving his hand to us ! All 
 right, old man, it's all right" and before 
 Anne had time to think, she had waved with
 
 366 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 him back again. They saw Douglas stoop and 
 whisper to Shirley, and then both kissed hands 
 to them. 
 
 "I shouldn't be surprised," said Colonel Car- 
 rington as he took a glass of old Madeira with his 
 friend Mrs. Henry, "if we have an epidemic next 
 spring of weddings. They are infectious. I 
 have rarely seen an isolated case." 
 
 "I think I could name three or four couples 
 already," said Mrs. Henry. "Of course my 
 Rosalie's comes next, early in February, 
 and your Elvira and Mildred are promised soon 
 after. I am afraid my favourite, little Anne Page, 
 will be left out in the cold. She is a sad little 
 coquette. She doesn't acknowledge that any 
 thing is in sight for her ! I wish she could 
 capture Colonel James ! He is really too fine 
 a fellow to be an old bachelor." 
 
 Similar remarks and prognostications were 
 expressed by Milly to old Isham. "This yer's 
 jes' a beginnin'. One weddin' brings many. 
 Bimeby ther won't be no ole maids lef but Miss 
 Prissy." 
 
 "True for you, Sis Milly," said Isham. "Ef 
 you kills one fly, a hundred will come to his 
 funeral. But you needn' worry about Miss 
 Prissy. Miss Prissy cert'nly had her day !
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 367 
 
 'Feared like she could have had the angel Gabrel 
 ef she wanted him ! None o' dese young 
 ladies nowadays could hold a candle to her." 
 
 "Humph ! " said Milly, indulging in the expres 
 sive unspellable Southern exclamation, which 
 is made by tone and emphasis to express, as 
 circumstances may demand, surprise, acquies 
 cence, doubt, or contempt in this instance, 
 the latter. "Humph ! Miss Prissy am' got no 
 use fer the angel Gabrel ! What she gwine 
 do with a musty feathery ole angel ?" 
 
 Isham shook his grey head. He was a dea 
 con in the church and "Sis Milly's" occasional 
 lapses into irreverence caused him sincere con 
 cern. 
 
 As Miss Betty Oliver pervaded the house, 
 assisting everywhere, Andy had much ado to 
 secure for himself a coveted honour, the pres 
 entation by his own hand of the magnificent 
 bouquet his skill had attained for the bride. 
 After many furtive peepings and quick hidings 
 behind doors, he espied Miss Betty absorbed in 
 placing certain dishes in position on the table, 
 and beckoning to his friend Isham with fearful 
 contortions of his face suggesting danger signals, 
 "Whisht, mon," he whispered, "haud the door 
 a wee till I win speech wi* the young leddy."
 
 368 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Isham nodded assent, and Andy crept in on 
 tiptoe to Shirley. 
 
 "Oh, Andy, you dear good fellow ! How 
 perfectly adorable ! Camellias and Cape Jessa 
 mine !" 
 
 Andy bowed low; he was on his mettle. "Na, 
 na, it's nought but a wee trifle ! May guid an' 
 guid only ben yer portion, my bonny leddy ! 
 Ye'll kindly tak auld Angus' benison whare'er 
 ye gang." 
 
 "See, Douglas, see the magnificence of our 
 Andy!" 
 
 "Ah ! Superb ! Splendid ! Oh, Andy, Andy ! 
 Try again, old fellow ! * as good fish in the 
 sea as ever yet were caught/ you know !" 
 
 "And lang may they bide there for a' Angus. 
 I hae had - ' but here Dorothea touched his 
 arm. "Uncle Isham says 'look out'; I don't 
 know what he means, but he asked me - 
 
 Angus heard no more. He was close to a door 
 leading into the veranda, and any one happen 
 ing at the moment to be at a rear window 
 might have seen his angular figure fleeing to the 
 shelter of his own sanctuary.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 "I FEEL like a thief, Charley," said the Colonel 
 to Dr. Berkeley, who returned several hours after 
 the ceremony. "The Bishop positively de 
 clined to wait. Talk of Medes (and Persians), 
 but commend me to this Meade for cast-iron 
 Rules and Regulations." 
 
 "Wear your honours, my dear boy," said the 
 Doctor, with his arm around the Colonel's 
 shoulder. "This seems to be your great day. 
 I have just parted from a newly arrived citizen 
 who is to be christened 'James Jones Stevens.' 
 He hopes you appreciate the distinguished 
 company in which you find yourself. I tell 
 you," he added, shaking his head, "that poor 
 girl had a close call ! But she's all right now. 
 So you gave my girl away, and had a kiss for 
 your pains ! Easier for you than for me, I 
 warrant. But after all, it is for her happiness, I 
 do believe. I thought a good deal about her 
 coming home, and I feel that we attach too 
 much importance to the mere accessories of 
 life. Douglas is a fine fellow, and he will win 
 
 2B 369
 
 370 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 for her all she needs. She will like everything 
 better if he works for it. How did Mary seem 
 to stand it ?" 
 
 "When did dear Mary ever think of herself ? 
 Never since I have known her." 
 
 When the merriment of the young people was 
 at its height, the Colonel found his little Duchess, 
 tired out, but bravely keeping up for the going 
 away at dawn to meet the train. 
 
 "Well, little Dolly, here you are ! We have 
 been good little girls, haven't we ? Do you 
 know what's going to happen ? We don't like 
 good-byes you and I. We are going to find 
 Mammy, and we three will run away to the 
 office. You and she will sleep in my back 
 room. Let's be off before we are found out !" 
 
 He had made of the small room at the rear of 
 his own a bower of bright stuffs and evergreens. 
 A fire burned on the hearth. A little white 
 dressing-table stood in a corner, and as white a 
 cot held out inviting arms to an utterly exhausted 
 little maiden. Mammy brought her quilts to 
 spread before the fire, fully intending to steal 
 away as soon as Dorothea should be asleep. 
 The Colonel bade the little girl good night, and 
 entered his own room. Dorothea observed, 
 resentfully, that he had forgotten to kiss her.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 371 
 
 He had not forgotten ! His own good night kiss 
 from Shirley still trembled on his lips. There 
 must be no other to-night. 
 
 Half an hour afterward, Milly knocked at his 
 door. " I can't do nothin' with Dolly ! She's 
 so nervous and excited I'm feared she'll make 
 herself sick. She done stuff herse'f with every 
 thing an' she won't sleep a wink. You mout 
 speak to her, Marse Jeemes. I got her up and 
 put her flannel gown on her to rock her to sleep 
 but 'tain't no use." 
 
 "I don't feel like sleeping myself, Dolly," 
 said the Colonel. "Can't we get the wedding 
 out of our heads ? If you invite me, I'll draw 
 up a chair here to your fire. I'll be company and 
 you shall entertain me. Wait a minute ! I'll 
 brinp my arm-chair. That's right, Milly ! 
 Take her Grace into your lap. Now what are 
 you thinking so much about ? " 
 
 "I'm just not sleepy. I was thinking about 
 that night when I told Douglas Shirley had 
 cried. I oughtn't to have told him Shirley 
 didn't wish it and maybe if I hadn't, she 
 would never have married him." 
 
 The Colon -1 assured her that nothing she 
 could have done could possibly have prevented 
 that !
 
 372 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 "And then I couldn't get the poem out of my 
 head. And the star and the lovers and Lesbos 
 and all that. It was beautiful, and I under 
 stood it very well. It's the star that bothers 
 me. Why did the lutes sing to the star?" 
 
 "Lawd," said Milly, "ef this chile don't go 
 crazy 'twill be His mercy. Make 'er stop 
 talkin', Marse Jeemes." 
 
 But the Colonel was wise. With children the 
 worst plan of all others is to check the expression 
 of their wondering interest in all that is so new 
 to their young minds. He told Dorothea that 
 she was quite right ; that great and wise men 
 all over the world had wondered at the stars, 
 and poets had sung to them those beautiful 
 lights that God had set in the sky ; and then, 
 with exquisite tact, he led her mind to the familiar 
 old Christmas story, and pictured to her in his 
 own inimitable manner the lambs and sheep 
 lying asleep in a far-away time in a far-away 
 country, and the young shepherds talking to 
 gether to keep themselves awake; and how a 
 great star suddenly blazed out in the dark sky, 
 and the shepherds heard strange voices in the 
 heavens, proclaiming that God had sent His 
 Peace upon the sleeping world; and how 
 wise and learned men also saw the star, and
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 373 
 
 knowledge came into their hearts that a Child 
 had been born who would grow up to save and 
 bless all the people then, and all who would 
 come after. And how the wise men longed to 
 find him that they might adore him, but could 
 never have found him but for the beautiful star 
 which moved on, leading them a long way over 
 hills and valleys, until it stood still over an 
 humble manger, and there they found the 
 Child and worshipped him and brought him 
 perfumes and such things as they could procure, 
 and so on, to the end of the divine story so 
 precious, so cherished, so little understood ! And 
 then he reminded the little girl that because of 
 our faith in this Child and obedience to his 
 teachings, all would be forever well with us, 
 every one, and if we made mistakes, they 
 would be forgiven ; that knowing this, we should 
 be happy. 
 
 "But I can't feel happy that Shirley's married. 
 Can you, Cousin James ?" 
 
 "Yes-- 1 can be happy! She is happy! 
 That is enough, darling, for me." 
 
 "Well," said Dorothea, resignedly, "I'll try 
 not to mind ! I have you ! I'll play I'm a 
 lonesome little girl, and you are my fairy prince." 
 
 "Oh no, not so ! I was a lonesome old fellow,
 
 374 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 and had never been of much use in the world, 
 and had never had anybody to love me much, 
 until I found a dear little Duchess who took me 
 in and taught me how to be happy. You must 
 never forget that. Come, now, our talk has 
 rested both of us. Come, Mammy, put her to 
 bed," for the child's eyelids were drooping; 
 "she is going to sleep like a dormouse, and so 
 am I." He stooped and lightly touched with 
 his hand the top of her drooping head. "Good 
 night, dear little Duchess, good night." She 
 was too far gone with sleep to respond, but she 
 must have heard for before dawn she had 
 a beautiful dream of hearing again distinctly, 
 "Good night, dear little Duchess, good night." 
 Late next morning, Dorothea was awakened 
 by her father's voice at her little window, bidding 
 her dress quietly, come out of the back door, and 
 not disturb the Colonel, who was still asleep. 
 Milly had stolen in without waking her and 
 kindled a fire. Looking out, she saw that snow 
 had fallen in the night and was hanging in loose 
 wreaths from the boughs of the evergreens. A 
 great bush of leafless Scottish broom stood be 
 fore her window, its many slender stems coated 
 with icicles which glittered in the morning sun 
 like a fountain of diamonds. She remembered
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 375 
 
 that her sister was far away on her journey, and 
 a keen pang of grief at losing her clutched at 
 the child-heart. 
 
 When she was ready to sally forth, she found 
 her father slowly pacing the gravelled walk lead 
 ing to the house. As she looked around all 
 seemed changed sad, silent, and cold. Her 
 father kissed her, and took her hand with a look 
 that arrested the "Merry Christmas" on her 
 lips. He spoke gravely, reverently, of the gift 
 of gifts and of the Christmas angels' message 
 of peace. And then he told the wondering child 
 gently that the Colonel was asleep and would 
 awake no more in this world. 
 
 It was poor little Dorothea's first sorrow, 
 and none in after life was keener. She cher 
 ished in her silent heart an indignant protest 
 as she heard Major Selden and others who had 
 known him from boyhood speculate upon the 
 possible hereditary cause of his death. " I knew 
 him not they," was her thought, and she 
 recalled the last lines he had quoted to her : 
 
 But our love was stronger by far than the love 
 Of those who were older than we.' 
 
 "Ah ! I know now why he has been taken 
 from me :
 
 376 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 'The angels, not half as happy in heaven, 
 Went envying him and me.' 
 
 " Yes, that was the reason. That was the 
 reason !" 
 
 Milly could not be kept away from the room 
 in which the assembled guests mournfully dis 
 cussed the causes of his death. She had drawn 
 Dorothea to her faithful bosom, and gently 
 rocked her while they talked. "Dorothea was 
 the last one that saw him," said the Doctor. 
 "Tell us, Dolly, what did he say to you?" 
 
 But the stricken child could not answer. She 
 turned her face away. She could not speak. 
 "'Deed, no, Marse Chawles," said poor Milly, 
 tearfully, "'Zarrer was de las' one saw de 
 Cunnel. 'Zarrer run befo' de kerridge down the 
 avenue to open the big gate fur Miss Shirley, 
 an' he see the Cunnel close to the hedge by the 
 gate. The Cunnel nuwer say nothin' to 'Zarrer 
 - he jus' stan' thar, 'twel the kerridge was out 
 o' sight an' then he sorter melt away ! 'Zarrer 
 say he cert'nly was skeered, the Cunnel look 
 so white, an' I tell him 'twarn nothin' but a 
 dream o' hisn, an' 'twarn none o' his business 
 anyhow to be dreamin' 'bout the Cunnel." 
 
 "The boy was mistaken," said the Doctor,
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 377 
 
 turning to his guests. "Poor James must have 
 died about three o'clock. The carriage did not 
 leave until four. Shirley missed him and made 
 me promise to look after him, which I did as 
 soon as she left. There was a light in the 
 office, and I naturally supposed he was avoiding 
 the good-bye. When I found him, he had been 
 dead fully an hour. His candle had burned low. 
 A large package of manuscript was smoulder 
 ing on the hearth. Dear James had evidently 
 lighted it, and lain upon the lounge to watch it 
 burning." 
 
 "His precious book ! His Lost Song !" 
 
 There is something inexpressibly pathetic in 
 the mute grief of a young child. Dorothea 
 asked no questions the faces around her 
 already answered. For the time all sunshine, 
 all joy, died in her heart. When her gentle 
 mother saw she could not be comforted, she gave 
 her the Colonel's Bible. "No one has opened 
 it, dear. It is yours just as he left it yours 
 only." She read in the Gospels morning and 
 evening for a week or two before she turned the 
 pages of the Old Testament. With the reti 
 cence of a child she pondered, but did not reveal, 
 what she found within.
 
 378 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Marked, interlined, and dated on the day she 
 had sat in the apple tree and overheard his 
 pleading for Shirley's happiness were the words : 
 
 " Love is strong as death ! " 
 
 "Many waters cannot quench love, neither 
 can the floods drown it ! " 
 
 In the blank space beneath the Canticle he 
 had written and dated on that last Christmas 
 Eve: 
 
 "Almighty God ! If it shall please Thee to 
 accept this, my sacrifice, return it, I beseech 
 Thee, in blessings upon her whom I have loved 
 with a love strong as death and upon him to 
 whom through Thy strength I have given her." 
 
 "A love strong as death," pondered little 
 Dorothea. "That must be a great love. I 
 thought," and her lip quivered, "that he loved 
 his little Duchess best of all ! But he loved 
 Shirley best ! He loved me like papa loves me, 
 I reckon ; and he loved her like Douglas loves 
 her. She shall never know it ! She shall never 
 know that Douglas came and broke his heart 
 his dear, dear, dear heart ! He wanted her to 
 be happy and if I told her, she could never 
 be happy any more." 
 
 A guest one day was discussing with her mother 
 the meaning of the mysterious figures on the
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 379 
 
 Barberini vase on the parlour mantel, and Doro 
 thea suddenly recalled the day when the Colonel 
 had looked long at the timid soul entering the 
 land of shadows, and wondered how much 
 longer the little Love could fly on broken wing 
 to light the way. She had a great desire to 
 own this vase to keep with the Bible safe from 
 further harm, and her mother gave it to her. 
 Handling it carefully as she wrapped it in soft 
 silk, she perceived the design on the bottom 
 -the beautiful hooded figure with finger on 
 lip, supposed by the learned to represent the 
 Phrygian Atys, or to be symbolic of secrecy. 
 To poor little Dorothea the sealed lips gave no 
 message as they do to others, no mournful 
 hint, in view of the lesson on the vase, of im 
 perfect knowledge, no whisper that "after all, 
 what do we know" which makes silence the only 
 alternative. To her the message seemed to be 
 that her adored Colonel's secret should be kept 
 sacredly, and in her prayers she asked that she 
 might have strength so to keep it. It was rudely 
 wrested from her, however --but only to be 
 given to her mother. The two kept it, a sacred 
 inheritance from the dear one who had so jeal 
 ously guarded it all his life. 
 
 About a month after the Colonel's death
 
 380 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Mrs. Bangs paid Berkeley Castle a visit a 
 visit somewhat dreaded by Mrs. Berkeley and 
 Miss Prissy, who felt little able to bear her re 
 marks and condolences, her touch upon their 
 sorrow sorrow too sacred for discussion even 
 among themselves. But they were too kind to 
 deny themselves to the poor woman who had 
 come so far at least, Mrs. Berkeley was too 
 kind, for Miss Prissy fled to the sanctuary 
 of her own room. Mrs. Bangs laid aside her 
 black quilted hood and revealed a face, every line 
 of which was drawn to the deep affliction mark. 
 "Oh, yes'm, Ma'y Jane an* the baby is doin' 
 right smart. 'Twas onreasonable for him to 
 come the night of Miss Shirley's wcddin', but 
 Ma'y Jane declared fo' gracious she couldn't 
 help it. An' I don't know which cried the 
 fiercest, the baby or Ma'y Jane, when we all 
 heerd 'bout the Cunnel. Yes'm ! We sholy 
 does walk in a vale o' tears. This worl's a 
 wil'erness o' woe as the hime says. Po' Cunnel ! 
 How he used to come and set with me time an* 
 ergin at the old place. 'Peared like I was the 
 only one could understan'. / always knowed 
 the Gunnel's feelin's befor' he spoke 'em. He 
 was that familious with us. 7 knowed his 
 trouble," she added, shaking her head wisely.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 381 
 
 "We were much surprised here. The Doctor 
 never suspected anything serious ! He was 
 thinking perhaps a tonic " - Mrs. Berkeley 
 said brokenly; "and indeed, if we had been less 
 absorbed ! But it was an inherited malady, 
 we suppose !" 
 
 "Yes'm, yes'm. That's so ! They all in 
 herits it. 'Pears like, po' creeturs, they're 
 made that way, and can't help therselves. No'm, 
 'twarn't natchel for him to talk. They never 
 does. It takes folks to find out from their 
 looks. Ther's signs, 'thout no words," said 
 Mrs. Bangs, nodding her head with an air of 
 mystery. 
 
 "What do you mean, Mrs. Bangs ? Had 
 Colonel Jones any attack of vertigo or faintness 
 in your house ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes'm, yes'm ! That is, I mean to say, 
 he acted strange many an' many a time ! He 
 would set 'thout sayin' a word an' look at 
 Ma'y Jane sorrowful-like an' sorter outdone, 
 and then pull himself together an' git out 
 his cheer sudden, an' say 'good evenin',' and 
 go, like that." 
 
 "Is that all ? He was always very sorry for 
 Mary and for all of you. But about vertigo 
 or faintness ? Try to remember ! Tell me
 
 382 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 everything," said Mrs. Berkeley, gravely. She 
 was under the impression that Mrs. Bangs was 
 keeping something back. 
 
 "Lawd, Mis' Berkeley, 'tain't no use me beatin' 
 round the bush this-a-way ! The Gunnel had 
 sot his heart on Ma'y Jane an' she sholy was 
 a mighty pretty girl ! He never was the same 
 after she went with Dick Evans, and then when 
 she married Stevens he just give up ! Las' 
 time I see 'im he come to tell me 'bout Mr. 
 Bangs an* I seed he was miz'able an* onrecon- 
 ciled." 
 
 "It's not true, Mama, it's not true!" cried 
 Dorothea, indignantly. "Don't believe her! 
 Oh ! make her stop ! I know ! I can prove it ! 
 Send her away !" and the child burst into pas 
 sionate crying. 
 
 "Lawd, Miss Dolly, what's the matter? 
 Lawd, chile, I'll take it all back if it hurts yo' 
 feelin's. It don't make a mite of differ now. 
 Sometimes folks can see things an' then ergin 
 they can't, an' ' 
 
 "This will never do, Mrs. Bangs," said Mrs. 
 Berkeley, sternly. "You have made a dreadful 
 mistake. Of course the Colonel was silent and 
 sad when he saw Mary, and of course he never 
 was the same after she 'went with' Dick Evans.
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 383 
 
 He was relieved. He felt she was provided 
 for and when that failed, he made another 
 plan for her and for all of you. You must take 
 back all you have said. I forbid you to repeat 
 it. It is absolutely untrue and perfectly 
 ridiculous. Dorothea knows what she is talking 
 about. Come, you needn't go," for the poor 
 woman had risen with a troubled face. "Stay 
 and get your dinner and we will find some 
 thing to send Mary but I forbid you to re 
 peat what we know positively is not true." 
 
 That night Dorothea hid her face in her 
 mother's bosom. She had the Bible in her hand. 
 
 "Has my little darling something to tell me ?" 
 asked her mother, tenderly. 
 
 "It was Shirley it was Shirley," said the 
 sobbing child, and opened the book before her 
 mother's eyes. "He loved Shirley and she 
 broke his heart. He was miserable. She and 
 Douglas were happy, and they broke his heart !" 
 
 "No, my child," said her mother through her 
 tears. "No one who could so feel, so write, 
 could be miserable ! His thought was too noble 
 too exalted ! It gave him strength to bear. 
 It was in itself a reward ! Nor did he die of a 
 broken heart ! God called him as he had called 
 his father, as he had called his only sister .'
 
 384 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 Moreover, his life had been happy ! 'Never 
 was ill,'- 'never grew old, never saw those 
 he loved suffer, never suffered himself ! ' And 
 it was given to you to make his life so happy." 
 And the two the mature woman who had 
 known sorrow, and the child not yet at the 
 end of her first decade strove to comfort each 
 other. 
 
 But no one could so comfort the sorrowing 
 child as a little boy who had known a greater 
 sorrow. Children are best understood by chil 
 dren. 
 
 Little Jack, her White Sulphur friend, had 
 lost his mother, and meeting him one day at 
 the depot, en route with his father to their 
 Southern home, the Doctor had begged for a 
 visit to Dorothea. While little Jack's heart 
 was full almost to bursting, he had never spoken 
 of his mother nor could he speak of her now. 
 But one day as he sat with Dorothea on the 
 broad stone beneath the willows and tried to 
 amuse her with the antics of the little fishes as 
 he fed them with crumbs, Dorothea sobbed 
 out, "Oh, Jack, I can't I can't bear it. It 
 hurts so here," laying her hand on her breast, 
 " it aches so ! Tell me, Jack ! You know 
 tell me ! Will it always ache like this ?"
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 385 
 
 "No, Dolly;" but little Jack's face contra 
 dicted his words. 
 
 "But I want it to hurt if that makes me 
 remember ! I don't want to forget." 
 
 "It will always ache, I think," said poor little 
 Jack, "but somehow --you get used to its 
 aching, and you learn to bear it, and not mind 
 quite so much ; " and with this hope, Dorothea 
 strengthened herself to endure. 
 
 When the Colonel's papers were examined, 
 it was found he had made a will the day after 
 he learned of Shirley's engagement. He manu 
 mitted all of his slaves, and provided for the 
 support of the infirm and aged. Except Prim 
 rose and the cart, and some books and pictures 
 (to Dorothea), and his mother's jewels to be 
 divided between Mrs. Berkeley and Miss Prissy, 
 he bequeathed his entire estate to Shirley. 
 
 Before Douglas and Shirley returned, Dr. 
 Berkeley completely renovated their future 
 home. The hospitable entrance was reopened, 
 and the box at the gate trimmed back to its 
 original shape. The growth of ten years' weeds 
 was cleared away, trees trimmed, shrubs pruned, 
 the gadding vine lifted from the earth and 
 trained anew in the way it should go. Once 
 
 2C
 
 386 THE COLONEL'S STORY 
 
 more the sun looked down upon the old 
 garden freed of its trammels, and upon the lawn 
 relieved of its burden of rubbish ; and brought 
 back "the hour of splendour in the grass 
 of glory in the flower." The old colonial house 
 was thoroughly cleansed and renewed within 
 and without. Miss Prissy and Miss Betty 
 Oliver moved over to superintend preparations 
 for the home-coming early in April. Everything 
 needful for Shirley's comfort was provided from 
 the stores at Berkeley Castle. On the day of 
 her arrival, great bushes of lilac, syringa, and 
 snowball were in full bloom, the honeysuckle 
 redolent of sweetness and the Seven Sisters 
 Rose budding in profusion over the long veranda 
 in the rear. "I am determined," said Miss 
 Prissy, "that everything shall be exactly as my 
 dear James would have wished ; " and she kept 
 her word. 
 
 The young people he had loved soon gathered 
 as he had prophesied they would, under the 
 shelter of the old mansion. Some of the choice 
 spirits of our world never seem to leave it ! 
 There is a strange, dear, clinging compan 
 ionship with them all the time. They live 
 their faces, attitudes, gestures in our daily 
 consciousness. No longer a part of the world
 
 THE COLONEL'S STORY 387 
 
 around us, they have become a part of our 
 selves. 
 
 Shirley could never realize that she had lost 
 the dear Colonel. As she went about the old 
 house singing in the fulness of her heart, her 
 eyes would meet the "following eyes" over the 
 mantel, and she would throw them a kiss from 
 her fingers, never stinting in her song. 
 
 Unconsciously she was accomplishing that for 
 which he had given his life. She was happy !
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form L9 15M-10,'48(B1039)444 
 
 UNIVERSITY T CALIFORNIA 
 
 A T
 
 prynr - 
 
 2669 Colonel's Story, 
 
 PS 
 
 2669 
 P95c 
 
 UCLA-Young Research Library 
 
 PS2669 .P95c 
 
 y 
 
 L 009 583 894 2 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 001 224 498 4