WANALAH 
 
 ^ 
 
WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 A Story of Love and Life in Old Virginia 
 
HER RESCUER KNEW NOT WHETHER SHE LIVED. Page 8. 
 
WESTOVER OF 
 WANALAH 
 
 A STORY OF LOVE AND LIFE IN 
 OLD VIRGINIA 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE GARY EGGLESTON 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BT EMIL POLLAK OTTENDORFF 
 
 BOSTON 
 LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 
 
Published, August, 1910 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1910, 
 BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD Co. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 BERWICK & SMITH Co. 
 Norwood, Mass., U. S. A. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ?TER PAGB 
 
 I. PERIL AND PASSION i 
 
 II. A SONG WITHOUT WORDS ... 14 
 
 III. THE BEST LAID PLANS ... 31 
 
 IV. A WOMAN'S WORD . . . .27 
 
 V. PLEASANT DREAMS AND AN UGLY 
 
 AWAKENING 40 
 
 VI. OUT OF A CLEAR SKY . . 50 
 
 VII. IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW . . 63 
 
 VIII. THE SHADOWS FALL .... 72 
 
 IX. THE COURAGE OF WOMANHOOD . . 83 
 
 X. THE PACKET OF PAPERS ... 88 
 
 XI. THE EVENTS OF A MORNING ... 99 
 
 XII. AFTER THE STORM 117 
 
 XIII. "AUNT BETSY" TAKES THE HELM . 130 
 
 XIV. WESTOVER AT WANALAH . . . 138 
 XV. UP AT JUDY'S 152 
 
 XVI. JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS . . .161 
 
 M575158 
 
vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVII. JUDY INFORMS HERSELF AND MAKES 
 
 PLANS .171 
 
 XVIII. JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN . . . 184 
 
 XIX. THE BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN . . 199 
 
 XX. THE SATISFACTION OF W. W. WEBB . 212 
 
 XXI. FLAGS FLYING 227 
 
 XXII. AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE . . . 239 
 
 XXIII. COURT DAY . . . . . .254 
 
 XXIV. A PERFECT WOMAN AND A MAN . 266 
 XXV. THE GREAT RENUNCIATION . . . 279 
 
 XXVI. MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS . . . 308 
 
 XXVII. THE PHILOSOPHY OF JACK TOWNS . 316 
 
 XXVIII. THE EVENTS OF A DAY . . .330 
 XXIX. THE WORK OF A WILD WIND . . 341 
 
 XXX. WHAT HAD HAPPENED AT THE OAKS 359 
 
 XXXI. A SUNSET INTERVIEW .... 372 
 
 XXXII. WHAT HAPPENED AT FIGHTING CREEK 388 
 
 XXXIII. CONSPIRACIES 396 
 
 XXXIV. JUDY'S PLANS OF CAMPAIGN . . 413 
 XXXV. A MOUNTAIN TOP REVELATION . . 425 
 
 XXXVI. THE MEETING AT THE OAKS . . 433 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 HER RESCUER KNEW NOT WHETHER SHE LIVED 
 
 (Page 8) Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 " NOW COME OUT HERE, BOYD " 162 
 
 WITH THE FIRST ONSET OF THE WIND . . . 342 
 
 " IT WILL BE BETTER, I THINK, TO ACCEPT MY DE- 
 CISION AS FINAL" 366 
 
 HE DISMOUNTED, AND, WITH HIS BRIDLE REIN OVER 
 
 HIS ARM, JOINED HER 374 
 
 "MARGARET!" . . . "BOYD!" ... 436 
 
Westover of Wanalah 
 I 
 
 PERIL AND PASSION 
 
 ONE midsummer morning in the late 
 eighteen-fifties, Boyd Westover of 
 Wanalah was riding along a Virginia 
 plantation road, accompanied by half a dozen 
 hounds, for whose discipline and restraint he 
 carried a long, flexible black-snake whip. The 
 weapon played the part of sceptre rather than 
 that of sword. The young man had no inten- 
 tion of striking the dogs with it, but whenever 
 their exuberance broke bounds he cracked the 
 lash in air, making a report like that of a pistol 
 shot, and the reminder of his authority was 
 quite sufficient for purposes of canine disci- 
 pline. 
 
2 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 He was not hunting. He was merely riding 
 to a distant part of the plantation he controlled, 
 to inspect the work of the negroes there and 
 to give directions for its proper doing. But he 
 liked the company of his dogs and enjoyed 
 their mad relish of the morning. 
 
 The glory of it gladdened his own spirit in 
 spite of the vexing problems that were never 
 quite absent from his mind. 
 
 Boyd Westover, a young man of not more 
 than twenty-three or twenty-four years, had 
 never known a serious care until the spring of 
 that year. Then a burden of responsibility had 
 fallen upon him that threatened to bend even 
 his broad shoulders beneath its weight. 
 
 His father had died suddenly in the early 
 spring, leaving a widow and this one son who 
 in the ordinary course of affairs became ad- 
 ministrator of the estate and master of the 
 plantation. 
 
 Then it was that the burden fell upon him. 
 The plantation was an unusually large one, 
 and its late owner had been accounted the rich- 
 est man in all the region round about, just as 
 his forbears for generations past had been. 
 
PERIL AND PASSION 3 
 
 Wanalah, the ancestral seat of the family, had 
 been for two hundred years the home of a 
 hospitable, high living, high mettled race of 
 men and women, but during the reign of Boyd 
 Westover's father the hospitality of Wanalah 
 had outdone itself in lavishness. There were 
 always guests in numbers there, and a multi- 
 tude of servants were withheld from profitable 
 industry to minister to their comfort. There 
 were thoroughbred horses enough in the stables 
 to mount half a company of cavalry, and a like 
 profusion was apparent in the case of every 
 other provision for enjoyment and the un- 
 stinted entertainment of guests. In brief the 
 late master of Wanalah had kept open house 
 for all gentlemanly comers. 
 
 But when Boyd Westover took his degree 
 at the University in early June and returned 
 to Wanalah to assume his duties as adminis- 
 trator, he learned for the first time that the 
 plantation had not been earning the cost of all 
 this high living. There was not only the 
 hereditary debt upon the place a debt that 
 so great a plantation, wisely conducted, might 
 have borne comfortably but added to it was 
 
4 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 a confused mass of fresh debts accumulated 
 during his father's lifetime and in consequence 
 of his extravagance. 
 
 The entertainment of pleasure-seeking guests 
 was suspended now, of course, during the 
 period of mourning, and in view of the ill 
 health into which his mother had fallen since 
 the shock of his father's sudden death, the sus- 
 pension seemed likely to endure for a long 
 period to come. 
 
 In the meantime Boyd Westover was both 
 perplexed and appalled by the magnitude of 
 the problem he was set to solve. For a time 
 he doubted even the solvency of the estate, but 
 later reckonings had shown him that this fear 
 was not justified, though the fact brought small 
 relief to his mind, for peculiar reasons con- 
 nected with the character of the property itself. 
 If he might have sold out everything, he could 
 have paid off all the debts, leaving a small but 
 sufficient competency for his mother's support. 
 As for himself, he gave no thought for the 
 future. He was young, strong and fit to meet 
 fate unarmed. 
 
 But he could not sell the property without 
 
PERIL AND PASSION 5 
 
 unpardonable offence to his own soul and to 
 the sentiment of the community which was to 
 him the world. For by far the greater part 
 of that property and altogether the most sal- 
 able part of it consisted of the negroes, every 
 one of whom had been born on Wanalah plan- 
 tation as their parents and grandparents and 
 great-grandparents had been before them. 
 Among the high class Virginians the class 
 to which Boyd Westover belonged by imme- 
 morial inheritance it was held to be a 
 shamefully impossible thing to sell a negro ex- 
 cept for incorrigible crime, or for the purpose 
 of bringing a man and wife together, on one 
 plantation. 
 
 " I simply will not sell the servants," the 
 young man said to himself when matters 
 seemed at their worst. " Rather than do that, 
 I'll run them all off north, set them free and 
 let the estate fall into bankruptcy." 
 
 Since that time the young man's close study 
 of the situation had convinced him that neither 
 of these courses was necessary. By cutting 
 down the force of house servants to the mea- 
 sure of his own and his mother's modest 
 
6 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 needs, and putting every able-bodied negro at 
 profitable work in the crops, he was confident 
 that he could make the plantation carry its load 
 of debt and slowly reduce it. 
 
 That was now his task, and in spite of the 
 glory of the midsummer morning his mind was 
 busy planning ways and means, when suddenly 
 a combined baying from the hounds arrested 
 his attention. Looking up he saw a young 
 woman on horseback in a pasture not far 
 ahead a young woman in difficulty and sore 
 danger. 
 
 Streamers of flaming red the reason for 
 which he could in no wise guess were flying 
 from her shoulders and a maddened bull of 
 huge bulk was charging her with the fury of 
 a bovine demon. 
 
 Instantly the young man plunged the rowels 
 into the flanks of his horse. An eight-rail 
 fence lay in his way, but there was no time in 
 which to throw off even one of its rails. With- 
 out a thought of pause he urged his horse 
 toward it at the top of his speed, determined 
 to force him over it or through it as the case 
 might be. The weight of the steed and the 
 
PERIL AND PASSION 7 
 
 speed at which he was moving would be suffi- 
 cient, Boyd Westover thought, to crush a way 
 through the barrier. It was likely to cost the 
 beautiful animal his life, but what of that? 
 There was another life at stake, in rescue of 
 which the young man was ready to sacrifice 
 even his own for the life in peril was that 
 of the woman he loved, the woman who had 
 awakened all the passion, all the tenderness, 
 all the chivalry of his brave young soul. To 
 save her he would have doomed any and every 
 other living thing to cruel death. 
 
 The horse he rode seemed to realize the 
 perilous choice his rider was forcing upon him 
 and to choose the safer but far more difficult 
 course. Putting forth all his superb strength 
 in utmost endeavor, he cleared the barrier at 
 a flying leap. 
 
 As he did so his rider saw to his horror that 
 the young woman's mount had faltered in her 
 frightened flight, and in the next instant the 
 beautiful mare was lifted bodily from the 
 ground, impaled upon the sharp horns of the 
 bull and evidently done to death by the goring. 
 As the animal fell the young woman was hurled 
 
8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH. 
 
 forward half a dozen yards, and before the 
 wrath-blinded bull could gather himself to- 
 gether for a charge upon her prostrate form, 
 Boyd Westover forced his own horse between 
 the bull and his victim and with three or four 
 rapid swishes of the cruel black-snake whip 
 across the animal's face and eyes, sent him 
 staggering back. 
 
 The delay, as the young man knew, would 
 be but for a few seconds, but these proved suf- 
 ficient for his purpose. Turning his horse 
 toward the unconscious girl, he hooked his left 
 knee around the cantle of his saddle and, hang- 
 ing almost head downwards, seized her about 
 the waist. Recovering his position, he placed 
 her across the horse's withers. The bull was 
 almost upon him now, but a sharp touch of the 
 spurs caused the horse to spring forward at 
 a full run in time to save himself and his rid- 
 ers, though the escape was so narrow that one 
 of the bull's horns tore an ugly gash in the 
 calf of Boyd Westover's leg. 
 
 The body of the girl hung limp across the 
 withers, so that her rescuer knew not whether 
 she lived or had been killed by her fall. Until 
 
PERIL AND PASSION 9 
 
 his horse cleared the fence again this time 
 scattering the upper rails as he did so there 
 was no time for inquiry. But once out of the 
 field, the young man reined in the frantic 
 creature, and lifting the girl's head to his 
 shoulder, felt her fluttering breath upon his 
 cheek. 
 
 " Thank God she lives ! " he exclaimed with 
 reverent fervor, but his efforts to rouse her to 
 consciousness were unavailing. 
 
 " It may be only a faint," he thought, but 
 such fainting as he had seen among women had 
 been far less enduring than this, and the mem- 
 ory of that fact greatly alarmed him. 
 
 He reflected that in any case the shock pro- 
 duced by the dashing of water into the face is 
 desirable at such times, and turning his horse's 
 head he rode down a slope into a shaded, grass- 
 carpeted dell, where a bubbling spring arose. 
 Gently laying the girl on the greensward, but 
 resting her head in his lap, he dashed handfuls 
 of water into her face, with the result of arous- 
 ing her almost at once. When she opened her 
 eyes they were vacant and dreamy, like those 
 of one only half awakened from sleep, but a 
 
io WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 few moments later the light came back into 
 them, and she spoke. 
 
 "Is it you, Boyd? Then you're not dead, 
 as I dreamed you were." 
 
 " Oh, no, I'm not hurt," he replied ignor- 
 ing his lacerated leg " but you mustn't talk 
 yet. Lie still till you feel better." And with 
 that he gently passed his hand over her eyes, 
 closing them. 
 
 She lay quiet for a minute or two seemingly 
 asleep, and he, moved by a sudden impulse 
 whether of passion or pity he knew not bent 
 over and pressed his lips to hers gently ut- 
 tering her name " Margaret." 
 
 Instantly he repented, as she opened her 
 eyes and with a flushing face tried to raise her- 
 self to a sitting posture, saying as she made the 
 effort. 
 
 " I reckon you mustn't do that." 
 
 But the effort to rise was futile. Sharp 
 pain caused her to grow pale again and she 
 sank back as she had been. 
 
 " Where are you hurt, Margaret ? " Boyd 
 asked in sympathetic distress. 
 
 " I don't know ; all over I reckon." 
 
PERIL AND PASSION n 
 
 " Are any of your bones broken ? Feel of 
 them and see." 
 
 " I reckon not. I can't tell. The pains are 
 all over me mostly inside. I reckon I'm go- 
 ing to faint." 
 
 Boyd Westover was now seriously alarmed. 
 He vaguely remembered hearing of persons 
 dying of " internal injuries," though exter- 
 nally showing no hurt. Instantly he lifted the 
 girl again and, mounting with her in his arms, 
 set off at a gallop toward the great house at 
 Wanalah. 
 
 The sharp prick of a pin, as he adjusted his 
 burden on the withers, attracted his attention 
 to the two flaming red bandana kerchiefs, 
 pinned by their corners to Margaret's shoul- 
 ders, and in the midst of his apprehensions for 
 her life he found time to wonder why she had 
 dedorated herself in that extraordinary way. 
 He was too full of anxious concern to question 
 her on so trivial a matter, but she, recovering 
 herself, volunteered an explanation, after ask- 
 ing him to reduce the horse's gait to a walk. 
 
 " I reckon I was right foolish," she said, 
 laughing in spite of her pain. " You see this 
 
12 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 is one of old Aunt Sally's birthdays. She has 
 one every three or four months now, and she's 
 rapidly adding to her ninety years a year at 
 each birthday. She was my Mammy you 
 know, and so I always take her a present on 
 her birthdays." 
 
 The girl paused in her speech as some sharp 
 twinge of pain changed her smile into a gri- 
 mace. It was only for a moment, and she con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " On her last birthday, two or three months 
 ago, she told me I would some day be an angel 
 with red wings, and so when I set out this 
 morning to take her these two turban kerchiefs, 
 the foolish whim came to me to pin them to 
 my shoulders and make red wings of them." 
 
 Again an access of severe pain silenced 
 speech and she closed her eyes while her lips 
 grew pale. Evidently the effort to chatter had 
 been too much for her, and Boyd rightly 
 guessed that she had been forcing herself to 
 talk of her little prank by way of preventing 
 him from saying more serious things which 
 she did not wish just then to hear. 
 
 He in his turn resolved to say those more 
 
PERIL AND PASSION 13 
 
 serious things at the earliest opportunity. He 
 felt that in caressing her as he had done, down 
 there by the spring, he had placed himself un- 
 der a binding obligation to explain at the first 
 possible opportunity, and the explanation could 
 take but one form a full and free declaration 
 of his yet unspoken passion. This, he felt, he 
 had no right to delay one moment longer than 
 he must, but as she lay still with closed eyes, 
 her head upon his shoulder and his arm about 
 her, he realized that his present and very press- 
 ing task was to place her as soon as possible 
 in the tender care of his mother and her maids. 
 The rest must wait. 
 
II 
 
 A SONG WITHOUT WORDS 
 
 THE physician for whom Boyd West- 
 over sent a young negro at breakneck 
 speed, while his mother's maids were 
 getting Margaret Conway to bed, reported that 
 she had " sustained painful contusions " and 
 was additionally " suffering from shock," but 
 that no bones were broken and, so far as he 
 could determine, no serious internal injuries 
 had befallen. He directed that she should re- 
 main in bed for a few days, and then stay 
 quietly at Wanalah, without attempting a 
 homeward journey until he should himself give 
 permission. 
 
 " Above all," he said to Boyd, " she must 
 not be excited in any way pleasurably or the 
 reverse lest hysteria supervene." 
 
 Boyd smiled a little over the medical man's 
 stilted diction, and rejoiced in the assurance 
 14 
 
A SONG WITHOUT WORDS 15 
 
 of Margaret's safety which the ponderous 
 phraseology gave him. But upon reflection he 
 chafed a good deal over the restraint the doc- 
 tor's instructions required him to put upon 
 himself. He was impatient now to put into 
 words the declaration of love which his ca- 
 resses had implied and promised. He was still 
 more impatient for her reply to that declara- 
 tion, for, like the modest young lover that he 
 was, he gravely feared his fate and was an- 
 noyed by the necessity of waiting before put- 
 ting it to the test. 
 
 Her words, spoken half consciously when 
 she had received or repelled his embraces 
 for he could not determine in his own mind 
 whether she had meant to do the one or the 
 other in no wise encouraged his self-confi- 
 dence. He recalled those words : "I reckon 
 you mustn't do that " and questioned them 
 closely as to their significance, but no satisfac- 
 tory answer came. The utterance might mean 
 anything or nothing. And what did the sud- 
 denly flushing face that accompanied it sug- 
 gest? Was it joy or sorrow, pleasure or re- 
 sentment that had sent the blood to her cheeks 
 
16 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 in that way, and prompted her attempt to 
 escape him by rising? Wonder as he might 
 he could not tell, and as he paced the colon- 
 naded porch that night after all the house was 
 asleep, he succeeded only in working himself 
 into a passionate fury of impatience and mad- 
 dening perplexity. 
 
 He tried to reason with himself, only to find 
 himself utterly unreasonable. Doubtless Mar- 
 garet would be enjoying the air in the porch 
 within a few days, resting and perhaps inter- 
 estingly helpless still. The attentions he must 
 lavish upon her in that case promised abundant 
 opportunity for a tenderness of care which 
 would open the way for his passionate declara- 
 tion. At that point in his planning another 
 and a very annoying thought obtruded itself. 
 
 "Confound it!" he muttered, "Colonel 
 Conway is a stickler for all the conventions of 
 our artificial social life. He will insist upon 
 the idiotic rule that a young man mustn't ad- 
 dress a girl in his own house or at any time 
 when she is under his protection. What utter 
 nonsense it is, anyhow ! But I suppose I must 
 obey it or bring down Colonel Conway's wrath 
 
A SONG WITHOUT WORDS 17 
 
 upon my head. I must let all my opportunities 
 slip away, and restrain my impulses during all 
 the time she's here, making myself seem to her 
 a cold-blooded brute who has taken advantage 
 of her helplessness to force caresses upon her 
 and then doesn't think enough of her dignity 
 to explain himself." 
 
 Perhaps Boyd Westover's mood was playing 
 tricks with his logical faculties. It is certain 
 that if he had been asked at any ordinary time 
 his opinion of the social requirement which 
 he now scorned as an idiotic convention, he 
 would have answered that it was eminently 
 right and reasonable, that it was imperatively 
 necessary indeed, for the protection of the 
 young woman in the case against the embar- 
 rassment of having to accept hospitality or es- 
 cort or favor of other kind from a man whose 
 proffer of love she has just rejected. 
 
 But who expects an impatient lover to be 
 reasonable who that has ever been himself 
 a lover? Reasonable or unreasonable, Boyd 
 Westover felt xhimself bound to observe the 
 rule that imposed so annoying a restraint upon 
 him. He might fret and fume in revolt against 
 
1 8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 it, but he must bend to the custom. He re- 
 solved to wait with what grace he could until 
 Margaret's return to her own home. He 
 worked out in his mind all the situations that 
 were likely to occur during her convalescence 
 at Wanalah, and framed all the conversations 
 to fit the embarrassing circumstances. 
 
 Of course the situations that actually arose 
 were totally different from those he had im- 
 agined, and the dialogues he had rehearsed 
 proved to be as unfit for use as the text of a 
 Greek tragedy would be on a modern comedy 
 stage. 
 
 Colonel Conway, who happened to be in 
 Richmond when his daughter's mishap oc- 
 curred, returned at once and, after learning the 
 details, delivered his thanks and commenda- 
 tions in a way that overwhelmed her rescuer 
 with embarrassment. It was in vain that 
 Boyd protested, disclaimed any right or title 
 to the Colonel's extravagant eulogies of his 
 conduct, and declared that he had done no 
 more than any other man would have done 
 under like circumstances. Colonel Conway 
 would not have it so. 
 
A SONG WITHOUT WORDS 19 
 
 " You gravely imperilled your own life, 
 sir," he replied in his peremptory way. " You 
 went to the rescue of a damsel in distress as 
 only a gallant knight would do, with reckless 
 disregard of all consequences to yourself. 
 That's what I call heroism, sir, heroism worthy 
 of the name you bear and the proud race from 
 which you are sprung. Now don't protest, 
 don't contradict, don't argue, don't answer. It 
 is only your modesty that shrinks from the 
 recognition of your gallantry " and so on 
 with what Boyd felt to be " damnable itera- 
 tion." 
 
 But when the old gentleman had gone back 
 to Richmond, leaving his daughter to the care 
 of Boyd Westover's mother, the young man 
 reflected that the Colonel's enthusiasm would 
 probably stand him in good stead if ever Mar- 
 garet should smile upon his suit and give him 
 leave to ask her father for her hand. 
 
 Thus in meditations sometimes hopeful and 
 joyous, sometimes perplexed and desponding, 
 Boyd Westover worried through the days until 
 the glad morning carne when Margaret Con- 
 way rebelled against her physician's orders and 
 
20 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 made her appearance in the porch. She was 
 still weak enough and enough distressed by her 
 bruises to be treated as a convalescent to 
 whom solicitous attention was due, and of 
 course Boyd elected himself her " gentleman in 
 waiting." 
 
 These two, brought up on adjoining planta- 
 tions, had known each other from their earliest 
 childhood, but in later years they had seen 
 little of each other. Boyd had been away, 
 first at boarding-school and afterwards at the 
 University, while the motherless girl had been 
 slowly and awkwardly growing to woman- 
 hood, under care of her aunt and the tutelage 
 of an accomplished governess. It was only 
 during vacations that the two had met, and 
 during the last two summers they had not met 
 at all, for the reason that Margaret, with her 
 father, had been travelling in the North and 
 Canada and in what was then the great West 
 during both those seasons. 
 
 It was with surprise, therefore, not unmixed 
 with the awe of strangeness, that on his return 
 from the University this year he had found 
 his little playmate grown into a beautiful and 
 
A SONG WITHOUT WORDS 21 
 
 very dignified womanhood. She presided now 
 at The Oaks, her father's plantation, with all 
 the gracious ease that enabled Virginia women 
 of that time to make of plantation houses de- 
 lightful centres of unruffled hospitality, where 
 the coming and going of guests was in no way 
 a matter of previous arrangement and where 
 neither the coming nor the going created the 
 smallest ripple in the placid self-composure of 
 the well-ordered life of the mansion. 
 
 So great was the change in her, or so great 
 did it seem to Boyd, that at first he hesitated 
 and faltered over the old familiar form of ad- 
 dress. It did not seem possible to him to call 
 this dignified and almost stately young woman 
 " Margaret " as he had always called the little 
 girl that she had been. He could not address 
 her as " Miss Conway " but he thought he 
 might compromise on the form " Miss Mar- 
 garet." The first time he addressed her in that 
 fashion was the only time. She looked at 
 him in dignified surprise for a moment; then 
 with a rippling little laugh that seemed to him 
 singularly charming, she said : 
 
 " If we have become such strangers, Boyd, 
 
22 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 that you must put a handle to my name, I'll 
 give you all your honors and address you as 
 ' Boyd Westover, Esq., M. A., University of 
 Virginia.' You are to call me just ' Margaret,' 
 please, as you've always done, if you wish to 
 be just ' Boyd ' to me." 
 
 As she spoke the words all the winsomeness 
 he remembered in the girl came back again, 
 but it did not dissipate the stately dignity that 
 had grown upon her with her ripening woman- 
 hood. It was perhaps at that moment that he 
 fell in love with her. Of that he could never 
 be sure, but he knew now that his love for her 
 was the one supreme passion of his life. That 
 knowledge had come to him at the moment 
 when he first realized her danger out there in 
 the pasture. He recalled now the impulse that 
 had prompted him in his half mad determina- 
 tion to let no obstacle stand in the way of his 
 reaching her in time for rescue. He remem- 
 bered the horror that had rended his very soul 
 as he saw the maddened bull lift the mare and 
 her rider and fling them from his gory horns. 
 He knew now that he had done and dared in 
 those maddening moments, not with the hu- 
 
A SONG WITHOUT WORDS 23 
 
 mane impulse to save an imperilled life that 
 must come to every man with blood in his 
 veins, but actuated by his passionate love's in- 
 stinct of self-preservation. 
 
 As he ministered to her after her return to 
 the porch, all these memories were awakened 
 in him by a certain change that had come over 
 her, a shyness that was not quite reserve, but 
 yet resembled it. He was too little acquainted 
 with the ways of women to understand this 
 or to estimate it aright. It did not occur to 
 him that the revelation he had made to her by 
 his passionate caress as she lay half conscious 
 in his arms might explain her impulse of re- 
 serve. He was too scantily versed in the im- 
 pulses of womanhood to understand that after 
 such a manifestation of his love womanly mod- 
 esty must stand upon its defence until such 
 time as he should see fit to give more formal 
 and definite expression to his purpose. 
 
 Yet to that caress he attributed the change. 
 It was only that he misinterpreted its meaning. 
 The thought came to him that he had mortally 
 offended her, that she resented his act in the 
 only way possible to her so long as she must 
 
24 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 remain a guest in his mother's house, and that 
 upon her release from that restraint she would 
 banish him forever from her presence and her 
 acquaintance. 
 
 So severely did all this torture him that on 
 the second day of her convalescence the impulse 
 to make an end of suspense overcame him, 
 banishing for th moment all considerations of 
 prudence and all regard for conventionalities. 
 He had read to her for an hour, and when the 
 book was finished, he observed a certain rest- 
 lessness on her part, for which he suggested 
 one or two remedies, only to have his sugges- 
 tions negatived. Presently she said : 
 
 " It is only that I need exercise, I reckon. 
 I think I'll try to walk a little, up and down the 
 porch." She rose with some difficulty, he ta- 
 king her hand in assistance. But no sooner 
 was she on her feet than she relaxed her grasp 
 Upon his hand, and, as he did not relax his 
 own so readily, she seemed to shake it off. 
 The act was not an impatient one, but he mis- 
 took it for such. Instantly he faced her, ask- 
 ing: 
 
 " Why did you do that, Margaret ? Why 
 
A SONG WITHOUT WORDS 25 
 
 have you tried in every way to show me that 
 my presence is disagreeable to you? What 
 have I done to offend you? Tell me, and I'll 
 quit the plantation at once and stay away so 
 long as you remain. I have a right to know. 
 Tell me!" 
 
 For answer the young woman looked at 
 him in silence but with tear drops glistening 
 in her eyes. At last she said : 
 
 " You have done nothing that you ought not, 
 I reckon nothing to offend me. Oh, Boyd, 
 I'm not angry with you I can never feel 
 that way. I owe my life to you, but that isn't 
 it. I don't know what it is. May be it's just 
 because I'm weak or may be just because." 
 
 With that the tears released themselves and 
 trickled down her cheeks. She could not re- 
 strain them and she made no effort to hide 
 them. She simply stood there facing him and 
 letting the honest tears flow unrestrained. 
 
 There was no need of second sight to fore- 
 tell the result. Nothing in all the world so 
 unseats a man's resolution as the vision of the 
 woman he loves in tears. Boyd Westover was 
 a full-blooded young man and he acted after 
 
26 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 his kind. He took the unresisting girl in his 
 arms and passionately embraced her. Words 
 on either side were unnecessary. Love is quick 
 to understand. But the words came also, after 
 a space words of love beyond recalling, 
 words of the kind that make or mar human 
 lives and set Destiny its tasks. 
 
Ill 
 
 A WOMAN'S WORD 
 
 THOSE were halcyon days that fol- 
 lowed, while Margaret lingered at 
 Wanalah. The barriers were broken 
 down now between these two ; the vexing sus- 
 pense was over and the most precious certainty 
 that human kind can know had taken its place. 
 And there was not the embarrassment of 
 others' knowing. No word of their awakened 
 love had been spoken, or could be spoken until 
 Margaret's return to The Oaks should impose 
 upon her lover the duty of announcing their 
 understanding to her father and invoking his 
 sanction of their troth. Until that time should 
 come they were not " engaged " and might 
 pass their days and nights under one roof with- 
 out offending even Virginian propriety. Con- 
 vention had no claim to control over them in 
 those blissful intervening days. 
 27 
 
28 WESTOVER OF W ANAL AH 
 
 But the shadow of it fell on the morning of 
 the day when Margaret was to journey home- 
 wards in company with her maid. 
 
 " I will visit Colonel Conway at The Oaks 
 to-morrow," Boyd promised as the pair strolled 
 through the garden during the morning hours 
 that alone remained to them now. 
 
 " I wonder how he will receive the news 
 our news, Margaret? " 
 
 " How he will receive it? Why, of course 
 he " 
 
 " He's rather rigid, you know, in his views 
 of propriety, and I've sinned against light in 
 that respect. You see I addressed you in my 
 own home, and not only so, but at a time when 
 you were not able to run away." 
 
 Margaret laughed half below her breath. 
 
 " That was very terrible of course," she said 
 in an amused tone. " But I see a way out of 
 it, Boyd." 
 
 " Of course you do. That's feminine in- 
 stinct. But tell me about it." 
 
 " Why, it's simple enough. If Father finds 
 fault with that, you can take it all back and 
 say it all over again at The Oaks." 
 
A WOMAN'S WORD 29 
 
 Boyd smiled over the conceit, but he was not 
 reassured by it. The case was one in which 
 the least shadow of uncertainty seemed more 
 than he could endure. 
 
 " Oh I forgot," the girl went on, teasingly; 
 " perhaps it wouldn't be agreeable to you to 
 rehearse the scene." 
 
 Boyd said not a word in reply, but he man- 
 aged in another way to convince her that her 
 doubt on that point was unfounded. When she 
 had readjusted the " flat " that she wore as 
 headgear it had somehow become disar- 
 ranged she put jest aside, saying : 
 
 " I think we needn't fear anything of that 
 sort, Boyd. My father is apt to make distinc- 
 tions, just as other people are. If he disliked 
 you or disapproved of you, he would make 
 trouble of course ; but as it is I reckon he will 
 brush the thing aside and scold about the 
 idiocy that makes such silly rules." 
 
 She paused in her speech for a space. Then 
 she added, in a tone which the young man 
 afterwards recalled in doubt and distress : 
 
 " At any rate it makes no difference. Noth- 
 ing can make any difference now." 
 
30 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Tell me, please," he said gently, " just 
 what you mean by that." 
 
 " I am not a women to love lightly, or lightly 
 to forget. Love seems to me a holy thing and 
 to trifle with it is blasphemy. I have given 
 you my love, Boyd, and there is no power in 
 all the universe that can make me take it back. 
 Even you could not do that. Nothing you 
 might do even if it were crime itself 
 could alter the fact that my love is all yours, 
 now and forever." 
 
 He drew her to him in a tender embrace, but 
 spoke no word in reply. Speech in such a case 
 must be an impertinence. Presently she went 
 on: 
 
 ' That is what I meant, Boyd. I have prom- 
 ised to be your wife. I shall keep that promise 
 if the stars fall. I have no doubt my father 
 will cordially give his consent; but if it should 
 be otherwise, it will make no difference I 
 shall keep my promise." 
 
 How those words came back in after time 
 to Boyd Westover! And how he pondered 
 them in amazement and bitterness of soul! 
 
IV 
 
 THE BEST LAID PLANS 
 
 MARGARET was right in her antici- 
 pations regarding Colonel Conway's 
 attitude. He highly approved of the 
 young man upon whose gallantry in rescue he 
 had enthusiastically and incessantly descanted 
 in all companies. He was in no mood to find 
 fault with the slight lapse of Boyd Westover 
 from conventional propriety. He liked the 
 way in which Boyd presented his case, neither 
 justifying his conduct by argument nor offer- 
 ing excuses for it, but treating it as a matter 
 of manhood necessity. 
 
 " I suppose I should not have addressed 
 Margaret when I did," he said in manly fash- 
 ion ; " I ought to have waited, but under the 
 circumstances I couldn't help myself. Hang 
 it, Colonel, there are times when a man must 
 do things he ought not." 
 
 " Right, my boy, altogether right, absolutely 
 3* 
 
3 2 
 
 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 right, eternally right," was the enthusiastic 
 response. " It's blood that flows in your veins 
 hot blood and not tepid milk and water. 
 Why, sir, I courted Margaret's mother as we 
 hung to the gunwale of a capsized sailboat, 
 and I've been proud of it all my life, sir. A 
 mollycoddle would have waited for her to comb 
 her hair and put on dry clothes while he was 
 making up pretty speeches for the occasion. 
 That's the mollycoddle's way. The man's way 
 is to tell the girl he loves her, whenever the 
 right moment comes, and leave the dry clothes 
 and the pretty speeches for another time. So 
 don't apologize, don't fret, don't give the thing 
 another thought. You shall have Margaret's 
 hand with her father's blessing whenever you 
 and she choose to fix upon the day. I'll pack 
 The Oaks with the best of good company; 
 there shall be feasting and oh, by the way, 
 there's one little formality I suppose you'll have 
 to go through. There's Margaret's aunt, 
 my sister Betsy, you know. It'll be best all 
 around if you treat her with distinguished con- 
 sideration. She's apt to stand upon her dig- 
 nity, and I've always found it best to recognize 
 
THE BEST LAID PLANS 33 
 
 the fact, gracefully. It ministers to peace and 
 comfort. I think you and Margaret had better 
 present yourselves to her together, and do the 
 thing up with all the formalities. It will not 
 be necessary to mention to her the little slip 
 you've been confessing to me. She'd probably 
 take it seriously. It's a way she has. You 
 can just let her think the thing occurred here 
 to-day. You and Margaret can go out into the 
 garden after dinner, and when you return pre- 
 sent yourselves to Betsy and tell her about it 
 as if it had just happened." 
 
 With the reassurance of the solemn words 
 Margaret had spoken the day before, Boyd 
 Westover had no great fear of anything " Aunt 
 Betsy " might say, but he was disposed to 
 humor Colonel Conway, and besides he fore- 
 saw that life at The Oaks might be pleasanter 
 for Margaret with the old lady's approval than 
 without it. So the little diplomatic stratagem 
 was carried out so successfully that Aunt Betsy 
 always chary in the bestowal of praise 
 said to Margaret that night : 
 
 " If you must marry, and I suppose you 
 must, I'm glad you're to marry a young 
 
34 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 gentleman who observes the courtesies of life 
 and knows how to treat his elders with proper 
 respect. I rather approve of Mr. Boyd West- 
 over." 
 
 " Thank you, Aunt Betsy," Margaret an- 
 swered, concealing a smile. " You don't often 
 say so much in praise of a young man." 
 
 " Of course not. In these days it's not easy 
 to find young gentlemen who deserve any 
 praise at all. Manners are so dreadfully lax 
 nowadays. Even you shock and distress me 
 frequently, in spite of the pains I've taken to 
 train you properly." 
 
 " Why, Aunt Betsy, what have I been doing 
 now? Is it something dreadful?" 
 
 " From my point of view it is. You spoke 
 of Mr. Boyd Westover just now, by implica- 
 tion at least, as a * young man.' A young lady 
 doesn't associate with ' young men ' ; those 
 whom she recognizes are young gentlemen/' 
 
 " If you'd seen him encounter that bull and 
 snatch me from under his horns, Aunt Betsy, 
 I reckon you'd have thought him a good deal 
 of a man." 
 
 "No a good deal of a gentleman rather. 
 
THE BEST LAID PLANS 35 
 
 The distinction is important, my dear, though 
 I can't make you see it. And besides he's so 
 polite to his elders, especially ladies. I was 
 never more respectfully treated in my life. 
 He's just like the young gentlemen of my time. 
 Of course when he addressed you he sank 
 upon his knees " 
 
 " He certainly did nothing of the kind," 
 Margaret answered hotly. " If he had I should 
 have spurned him with contempt. No man 
 who respects himself would bend his knee to 
 any woman." 
 
 " I wish you would say * gentleman ' and 
 ' lady ' and especially wouldn't call yourself 
 a ' woman/ Margaret. It's positively shock- 
 ing. But it's so with everybody in these de- 
 generate days even well-bred young girls, 
 and Heaven is my witness that I've tried hard 
 to raise you well. When did he address you 
 the first time?" 
 
 " There was only this one time," Margaret 
 answered, dreamily, as she recalled the scene 
 on the porch. 
 
 " Do you mean, Margaret, that you accepted 
 him the first time he asked you ? " 
 
36 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Yes, Aunt Betsy, why not? I loved him." 
 
 " Margaret, you shock me ; worse than that, 
 your conduct grieves and afflicts me. Haven't 
 I told you a thousand times that no lady ever 
 forgets her dignity so far as that ? " 
 
 " I haven't counted the times, Aunt Betsy, 
 but probably your estimate of a thousand isn't 
 far wrong. It is more than five hundred at 
 any rate." 
 
 " Margaret, you trifle, and I'm not accus- 
 tomed to be trifled with." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Aunt Betsy. I didn't 
 mean to trifle. Listen to me seriously now. 
 I hold the love of a man and a woman to be 
 the holiest thing on earth. I regard all trifling 
 with it as blasphemy, and I think all your rules 
 and conventionalities concerning it silly and 
 sinful nonsense. If there is ever a time when 
 a woman should be honest and truthful it is 
 when the man she loves tells her of his love 
 and asks for hers in return. There, I have 
 shocked you dreadfully, I know, but you forced 
 me to do it. I have spoken the truth as my 
 soul sees it." 
 
 Without another word the high-strung girl 
 
THE BEST LAID PLANS 37 
 
 quitted the room. It was the first time in her 
 life that she had " broken bounds " with her 
 aunt, and her self-assertion astonished even 
 herself. But she did not and would not repent 
 of it. Love had brought to her a new dignity 
 of womanhood, that was all. 
 
 During the week that followed Boyd West- 
 over found himself a busier man than he had 
 ever been before. He was up at dawn to set 
 going the day's work in the crops, and not 
 long after sunrise he was apt to appear at The 
 Oaks where Margaret awaited his coming for 
 their early morning ride. After breakfast with 
 her he returned to his fields, but by four o'clock 
 he was at The Oaks again for dinner. His 
 evenings were spent in his own chamber, where 
 he toiled over papers until far into the night, 
 in an effort to master every detail of the finan- 
 cial condition of the Wanalah estate. 
 
 When he had done so, he asked for a con- 
 ference with Colonel Conway, to whom he ex- 
 plained his plans. 
 
 " I find that the interest charged on nearly 
 all the notes my father gave is higher than it 
 ought to be ; on some it is positively extortion- 
 
38 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 ate. My father was an optimist, I suppose, 
 and he seems to have fallen among thieves 
 money lenders, I should say." 
 
 " One and the same thing," said the elder 
 man. " I know their kind. I'm myself a vic- 
 tim. Go on." 
 
 " Well, as I figure it out, the excessive inter- 
 est the estate is paying I mean the amount 
 of interest in excess of a reasonable rate 
 eats up about half the tobacco crop every year, 
 and I've decided to stop it, just as we stop 
 the depredations of the worms and grasshop- 
 pers." 
 
 "Good! But how?" 
 
 " Why, I'm going to Richmond, and per- 
 haps to the North if necessary, to find some 
 one who will take a single mortgage loan for 
 the whole amount of the estate's debts, a loan 
 carrying a reasonable rate of interest. With 
 the proceeds I'll cancel all the present debts, 
 and thereafter the estate will have but one 
 creditor, pay a moderate interest and devote 
 every dollar of surplus earnings to a steady 
 reduction of the principal. I've figured the 
 whole thing out, and with ordinarily fair crops 
 
THE BEST LAID PLANS 39 
 
 and a reasonable style of living, I can extin- 
 guish the entire debt in ten years or less." 
 
 The two went together over the figures, and 
 the older man, who was both shrewd and ex- 
 perienced, pronounced the plan entirely sound 
 and feasible. It remained only to find the 
 bank, insurance company, or other financial in- 
 stitution that would make the loan. 
 
 In search of that, Boyd Westover set off 
 almost at once for Richmond. As he rode 
 away after parting with Margaret he turned in 
 his saddle and gaily waved her a last adieu, 
 quite as if the parting were expected to be for 
 months or years instead of for the brief tale of 
 days the youth assigned to it. 
 
V 
 
 PLEASANT DREAMS AND AN UGLY AWAKENING 
 
 BOYD WESTOVER sat in his hotel 
 room about nine o'clock in the evening. 
 Papers, mostly memoranda, lay scat- 
 tered about upon his table, while some large 
 sheets were spread out before him. On these 
 he was making calculations. 
 
 He was a thorough-going person by nature 
 and habit, and he was making careful estimates 
 of the several offers he had secured for the 
 making of the desired loan on Wanalah plan- 
 tation, in an effort to determine which of 
 them he might most wisely accept. 
 Finally he said to himself : 
 " The Milhauser offer is the best, or will be 
 if I can persuade the agent to accept a mort- 
 gage instead of the deed of trust he wants. 
 Perhaps I can. He didn't make the condition 
 peremptory, and he clearly wants to secure the 
 40 
 
PLEASANT DREAMS 41 
 
 loan as an investment. I'll see him in the 
 morning. No, by the way, he said I'd find 
 him at home this evening if I should want to 
 see him. I'll walk out to his house now." 
 
 Turning to the table he took up one of the 
 memorandum sheets and read at top the num- 
 ber of the agent's house in far upper Broad 
 Street. 
 
 " It's almost out of town," he muttered. 
 " Must be out beyond Richmond College. 
 But the walk will do me good, and I'll sleep 
 better if I can get the thing settled to-night." 
 
 He put an extinguisher over the camphene 
 lamp, and set out without overcoat or wrap 
 of any kind. It was a warm, cloudy summer 
 night, and the Virginians rarely wore over- 
 coats even in winter. They were horsemen, 
 all of them, and even the lightest overcoat is 
 a burden and a nuisance to one riding on 
 horseback. 
 
 As he walked up Grace Street beneath the 
 spreading shade trees, it began to rain, not 
 heavily but steadily. Westover was too well 
 accustomed to the out of door life to think of 
 turning back because of a drizzle, but as the 
 
42 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 rain increased he turned up the collar of his 
 coat and drew his soft felt hat down over his 
 eyes. Presently he stopped under a street lamp 
 and consulted a paper which he drew from his 
 pocket. Some detail of the negotiation had es- 
 caped his mind and he stopped thus to refresh 
 his memory. 
 
 As he stood there under the lamp with his 
 back turned away from the sidewalk Sam An- 
 derson, an acquaintance of his own, passed, 
 and recognizing him called out: 
 
 " Hello, Boyd ! Reading a love letter by the 
 light of a street lamp in a soaking rain ? You'd 
 better go indoors somewhere unless you want 
 to imagine tear drops punctuating the tender 
 missive." 
 
 Boyd turned and made some careless reply. 
 The two separated Boyd going on up Grace 
 Street and turning north to Broad, while An- 
 derson hurried down town. 
 
 The incident was utterly trifling in itself, 
 but it was destined to exercise a baleful influ- 
 ence upon Boyd Westover's life. 
 
 It was nearly an hour after midnight when 
 the young man presented himself again at the 
 
PLEASANT DREAMS 43 
 
 hotel office and asked for his key. The night 
 clerk observed that he was soaked and drip- 
 ping, for the rain was falling in torrents now, 
 and suggested the need of a little fire in Boyd's 
 room. The fire was ordered, as the night had 
 grown chill in spite of the season, and by the 
 time he had got himself into dry clothes, the 
 blaze of the soft coal had made the room so 
 cheerful that the young man decided to write 
 letters before going to bed. One of them was 
 addressed to Colonel Conway, and in it Boyd 
 announced his success in arranging the loan, 
 setting forth the terms secured and going mi- 
 nutely into detail. In the other, which was 
 addressed to Colonel Conway's daughter, he 
 told again of his success, giving no details at 
 all, but setting forth his rosy anticipations of 
 the coming time now not far away when 
 she should be " my lady of Wanalah." 
 
 The letter to Colonel Conway was a long- 
 one of necessity ; that to Margaret was much 
 longer without any necessity at all. But even 
 the longest letter must come to an end some- 
 time, and at last, about four o'clock in the 
 morning, Boyd Westover crept into bed, a man 
 
44 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 altogether happy in the present and confidently 
 hopeful of the future. And why not? For- 
 tune was bringing him its richest gifts. Love 
 was already his and the future held out to him 
 an assured promise of happiness and peace in 
 the plantation life he loved. Now that he had 
 succeeded in arranging his financial affairs to 
 his liking, he had no vexing problems to 
 wrestle with, no cause of anxiety of any kind. 
 With Margaret for his wife, with an ample 
 sufficiency of this world's goods, he had only to 
 conduct his plantation affairs, to entertain his 
 friends, and to keep company with his books. 
 
 It was of all this he dreamed when he sank 
 to sleep. 
 
 When he awoke a constable stood by his 
 bedside, with two of his assistants a few feet 
 farther away. 
 
 " Sorry, sir," said the constable. " I don't 
 like to wake a gentleman, sir, and still less in 
 a case like this. If it was only a common 
 criminal, sir, I shouldn't mind, but with a 
 young gentleman, my duty ain't no ways a 
 pleasant job." 
 
 " What do you mean, you ruffian ? " angrily 
 
PLEASANT DREAMS 45 
 
 asked Westover springing out of bed. " Why 
 do you presume to " 
 
 ; 'Taint presumin' I reckon," answered the 
 constable, " when I've got this fer my author- 
 ity. Read it, sir, and see." 
 
 Boyd hastily glanced at the paper. It was 
 a warrant for his arrest on a charge of bur- 
 glary. 
 
 He laughed a little, as he proceeded to dress, 
 saying : 
 
 " Of course this is a ludicrous mistake, but 
 you are not to blame for it. Those who are 
 will have to answer for their blundering. I'm 
 ready. Take me to the magistrate." 
 
 " He don't git up this soon in the mornin', 
 sir. He was woke up to 'tend to this thing, 
 an' he wa'n't in no pleasant frame o' mind 
 'bout it nuther. I reckon he'll lay abed late 
 this mornin' to make up his lost sleep, like. I 
 don't reckon he'll show hisself in court till 'long 
 'bout noon." 
 
 " Where will you take me, then ? " 
 
 " I reckon it'll have to be the lock-up, sir." 
 
 " The lock-up ? You mean a jail ? " 
 
 " Well jail's the straightaway name fer it, 
 
46 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 but we mostly calls it lock-up. Seems softer 
 like." 
 
 " Now my man, listen to me. You have no 
 right to put me in jail. Your warrant merely 
 directs you to arrest me and bring me to court. 
 It says nothing about locking me up in jail. I 
 tell you there's some absurd mistake about this 
 thing, and when I'm brought before the magis- 
 trate it will all be cleared up. You can detain 
 me until then without putting a jail indignity 
 upon me. Stay here at the hotel with me. Go 
 with me to breakfast, leaving your men on 
 guard outside. When the time comes take me 
 before the magistrate. In the meanwhile I'll 
 send for my lawyer and find out what's to be 
 done." 
 
 The constable ran his eye over the muscular 
 young man, and shook his head. 
 
 " Can't be did," he replied. " You mout 
 make up your mind to break away, and I don't 
 brag o' stren'th enough to handle a limber 
 twig like you." 
 
 " Well then, you can bring your men with 
 you into the dining room and keep them with 
 you." 
 
PLEASANT DREAMS 47 
 
 " See here, Mr. Westover," interrupted the 
 bailiff, " this here ain't noways a pleasant job 
 fer me, an' ef you'll give me your word of 
 honor as a gentleman that you won't git me 
 into no trouble by givin' me the slip or tryin' 
 to break bounds, I'll take the chances on you. 
 I won't go to breakfast with you, 'cause it 'ud 
 make talk ef folks saw a gentleman like you 
 a entertainin' a feller like me that a ways. I'll 
 jest set down furder down the table like, an' 
 leave my men outside. Is it a go ? " 
 
 '' Yes, and thank you for your consideration. 
 I give you my word of honor as a gentleman 
 that I will make no attempt to escape, either 
 during breakfast or at any other time, and 
 that when you wish me to go to the court with 
 you I'll go without a word. Is that suffi- 
 cient?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, that's enough. A gentleman may 
 do things that gits him into trouble with the 
 courts, but I ain't never knowed a gentleman 
 to break his word of honor." 
 
 The constable was by no means an over- 
 confiding person, but the dictum he announced 
 was based upon the facts of a social system 
 
48 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 with which he had been familiar all his life. 
 It would have been accepted without question 
 by any other man of his class in the common- 
 wealth. Thanks to it, Boyd Westover was 
 left free to go and come at will within the pre- 
 cincts of the hotel. He hurriedly summoned 
 his friend and attorney, Jack Towns, and re- 
 mained in conference with him throughout the 
 morning. 
 
 Neither could frame any plausible conjec- 
 ture as to the meaning of the arrest. There 
 was nothing in any of the morning newspapers 
 to give even a hint toward the solution of the 
 mystery. It was not the practice of the Rich- 
 mond newspapers at that time to print news, 
 except such as related to politics. If by 
 chance they recorded any local happening, it 
 was by mere mention, in small type in some 
 out of the way corner of columns which were 
 mainly devoted to ponderous editorial essays 
 on affairs of state, and to a reprint of the pro- 
 ceedings of Congress on the day before. 
 
 It was not until the two friends, lawyer and 
 client, were escorted by the bailiff to a magis- 
 trate's court that they learned aught of the 
 
PLEASANT DREAMS 49 
 
 charge against the accused man. What they 
 learned there was very little, but it furnished a 
 basis for further inquiry on their part. As 
 this is not a detective story, all that they 
 learned in court and by subsequent inquiry 
 may best be related directly, in another chap- 
 ter. 
 
 f. 
 
VI 
 
 OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 
 
 ON a corner of Grace Streeftn that part 
 of it which Westover had twice trav- 
 ersed on the evening before, stood a 
 very spacious dwelling house, used at that time 
 as a " Select Educational Establishment for 
 Young Ladies." That was what the pro- 
 prietor, Monsieur Le Voiser, called it in his 
 circulars and the like ; everybody else called it 
 ".Le Voiser's School." 
 
 There young women, mostly the daughters 
 of the well to do planters, were " finished " 
 after the most approved fashion. The train- 
 ing they had received at the hands of their 
 governesses and tutors was supplemented by 
 certain refinements of education which were 
 deemed necessary to the perfection of their 
 minds and manners. They had already learned 
 to strum on the piano; here they were taught 
 
OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 51 
 
 how to do so with ease and grace and with 
 the air of accomplished pianistes. Instead of 
 Stephen C. Foster's melodious but idiotically 
 sentimental songs, which they loved, they were 
 trained to screech " Hear me Norma," and 
 other " operatic pieces," which they loathed. 
 More important than all, they were taught 
 French until they could dream in that language 
 bad dreams probably, if they were in har- 
 mony with the French in which they were 
 cast. 
 
 Boyd Westover was acquainted with a dozen 
 or more of Monsieur Le Voiser's pupils, they 
 being the daughters of his neighbors and 
 friends. He knew the place also, having de- 
 livered a brief course of lectures there during 
 the preceding year. 
 
 About half past twelve o'clock on the night 
 on which he had stopped under a street lamp 
 to read a paper in the rain, there was an alarm 
 in Le Voiser's school. There were shriekings 
 that might have been heard a block away; 
 there were a few faintings, and there was a 
 general muster of scantily robed young women 
 headed by the matron of the establishment, 
 
52 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 who was madly bent upon marching them into 
 the garden in spite of the pouring rain. 
 
 The alarm had gone forth that there was 
 " a man in the house." One girl had impru- 
 dently asked, " Is it a burglar? " only to bring 
 down the matron's wrath upon her head. 
 
 " What does that matter to you, Mademoi- 
 selle? As a properly brought up young lady 
 it is enough for you to know that he's a man. 
 You should be ashamed to need more than that 
 to alarm you." 
 
 It was Monsieur Le Voiser's proud boast 
 that " French is the language of the establish- 
 ment, and no young lady attending it is per- 
 mitted to employ any other tongue." It is per- 
 haps an illustration of the untrustworthiness of 
 educational veneering, that in this time of ex- 
 citement nobody spoke a word of French, until 
 the intruder, who had been hiding behind a 
 door, slipped from his place of concealment 
 and made a dash for the verandah through the 
 French window by which he had entered. As 
 he did so the light of three or four bedroom 
 candles held high in air fell full upon him, and 
 half a dozen of the girls shouted in chorus : 
 
OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 53 
 
 " Regardez him ! It's Mr. Boyd Westover ! " 
 
 The consternation which fell upon the ex- 
 cited group at this announcement seemed to 
 afford a sufficient occasion for several interest- 
 ing attacks of hysteria, in the execution of 
 which one damsel made the startling announce- 
 ment : 
 
 " He came to kidnap me ! " repeating it sev- 
 eral times. When she grew a little calmer so 
 that she might be questioned as to her mean- 
 ing she declared that Boyd Westover was 
 madly in love with her. Then, having set the 
 inventive machinery of her creative imagina- 
 tion going, she told a romantic story interest- 
 ing to hear and perfectly delicious to tell. 
 
 In it she figured as a heroine of romance, 
 beset by the passionate entreaties of a lover to 
 whom she found it impossible to give her love 
 in return, and so forth to the end of as pretty 
 a story of love and coldness, persuasion and 
 pleading, as any that Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz 
 or Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth ever manufac- 
 tured for the delectation of languishing Lydias. 
 
 The girl's ambition to win interest in her 
 own behalf somewhat overreached itself. The 
 
54 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 other girls were jealous of her romantic dis- 
 tinction and, when they grew calm while she 
 got herself carried to bed, they flatly refused to 
 believe her story. 
 
 But there was no room for doubt that the 
 intruder was Boyd Westover, or that he had 
 forced the fastenings of a bolted window in 
 gaining entrance. One girl, whose father was 
 a lawyer, explained that this forcing of fas- 
 tenings, however frail they might have been, 
 constituted the crime of burglary. 
 
 Then somebody remembered that the in- 
 truder had escaped and some one else ventured 
 the suggestion that steps ought to be taken 
 to apprehend him. To that end Monsieur Le 
 Voiser was summoned from his private resi- 
 dence in the next street. After all the girls 
 who personally knew Boyd Westover, and all 
 those who had attended his course of lectures 
 had borne witness that the intruder was un- 
 mistakably he, Monsieur proceeded to set the 
 machinery of the law in motion, with the re- 
 sults already set forth. 
 
 When Boyd, Avith Jack Towns as his counsel, 
 presented himself before the magistrate, there 
 
OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 55 
 
 was a group of Monsieur Le Voiser's pupils 
 there, whom Jack Towns, borrowing his text 
 from the circus posters, called " A bevy of 
 beauty and galaxy of grace." They were there 
 under command of their matron to testify to 
 the facts of the burglary and the identity of 
 the burglar, which they one and all did with 
 so much confidence that Jack Towns found it 
 impossible to shake their beliefs in the smallest 
 degree. 
 
 Sam Anderson was there too, very reluc- 
 tantly indeed and under compulsion of a sub- 
 poena. The Commonwealth's Attorney had 
 somehow learned of his encounter with West- 
 over near the scene of the burglary under what 
 appeared to be suspicious circumstances. The 
 hotel clerk was present to testify concerning 
 the' hour and circumstances of Westover's re- 
 turn to the hotel on the night before. 
 
 To meet all this array of testimony, Boyd 
 Westover had no single witness of any kind. 
 And if there had been any such Jack Towns 
 would not have put him on the stand. It was 
 clear that the accused young man must be 
 committed in any case to await the action of 
 
56 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 the Grand Jury, and Jack Towns was much too 
 shrewd a lawyer to waste strength if he had 
 had any strength in this preliminary hear- 
 ing. He devoted himself instead to the task 
 of getting the bail fixed at as low a sum as 
 possible. When he pleaded that his client was 
 well known to be a gentleman of the best fam- 
 ily connections and the most scrupulous honor, 
 a man to whom the commission of such a crime 
 was utterly impossible, the magistrate re- 
 minded him that the witnesses were young 
 gentlewomen of equally good families, in 
 whom perjury was not even conceivable; that 
 their number was too great and their testimony 
 too positive to leave room for the theory of 
 possible mistake ; and finally that the very fact 
 of Boyd Westover's high place in life rendered 
 any crime on his part especially heinous. He 
 felt bound, he said, to fix bail at five thousand 
 dollars a very great sum in those days. 
 
 Within the hour, however, Boyd's friends 
 and those who had been friends of his father, 
 rallied about him, ready and eager to furnish 
 bonds for any amount. Not one of them knew 
 aught of the merits of the case, and not one of 
 
OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 57 
 
 them asked a question concerning it. They 
 simply did not believe that Boyd Westover 
 had broken by night into a girls' school for 
 any purpose whatever, and they were deter- 
 mined that he should not go to jail while 
 awaiting indictment and trial on so absurd a 
 charge. 
 
 " Now come with me/' said Jack Towns as 
 soon as the matter of the bail bonds was set- 
 tled. " We'll go to my house, not to my office, 
 to avoid interruptions. I must get at the very 
 marrow of this matter before a word is said 
 about it. Come." 
 
 When the two were seated in an untidy 
 room of Jack Towns's untidy bachelor estab- 
 lishment, and Jack had locked the front door 
 for the first time within his recollection, he 
 turned to his friend, saying: 
 
 " I want you to tell me every thing you did 
 last night the unimportant things even more 
 than the important. Don't be afraid of .bor- 
 ing me with details, and relate everything in 
 the order in which it occurred. Then I'll cross- 
 examine you as rigidly as if you were a wit- 
 ness concealing something. Perhaps we may 
 
58 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 discover something to shed light upon what 
 seems the most perplexing mystery I ever 
 knew. Go on." 
 
 Boyd told the story in minute detail, ending 
 it by saying : 
 
 " I can make oath to all that and swear that 
 nothing else of any kind occurred." 
 
 " No, you can't," said Jack Towns. " The 
 court won't let you swear to any of it." 
 
 " Can I not make a statement of facts in a 
 case that involves my liberty, my reputation, 
 and everything else that I care for ? " 
 
 " No. The law of Virginia does not per- 
 mit an accused person to testify in his own be- 
 half. That is the Common Law rule, and Vir- 
 ginia is under the Common Law. Don't tell 
 me the thing is absurd, unjust, cruel, barbaric, 
 and all that; for I know it already. It is the 
 law, and you and I cannot change it. Let us 
 go on with our inquiry instead. Do you know 
 approximately at what hour you passed Le 
 Voiser's school on your return from your visit 
 to Milhauser?" 
 
 " I know exactly. It was precisely half-past 
 twelve. I saw lights carried about in the 
 
OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 59 
 
 school and, wondering at the fact, looked at 
 my watch to see the hour." 
 
 " And you left Milhauser's house at what 
 time?" 
 
 " Half-past ten." 
 
 " Why did it take you so long to get back 
 to the hotel?" 
 
 " Milhauser's house, as you know, is away 
 out of town beyond Richmond College. 
 There's a horse car which runs at irregular 
 intervals between the college and the Broad 
 Street end of the Fredericksburg Railroad, 
 using the track of that railroad when no train 
 is due. When I got to the college gate it was 
 raining heavily and I took shelter under a sort 
 of shed opposite the gates to wait for the car. 
 It didn't come, and at last I decided to walk 
 on." 
 
 " Why did you turn south and into Grace 
 Street, instead of coming on down Broad?" 
 
 " Because it was raining and muddy, and the 
 sidewalks are better in Grace Street. Besides, 
 as my hotel is in Main Street I had to turn 
 south at some point on the journey." 
 
 " Yes, of course." 
 
60 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 After a period of silent thinking to no pur- 
 pose, Jack Towns said: 
 
 " It's a queer case. All those girls swear 
 you were in the school a little after twelve. 
 Milhauser, if questioned, would have to swear 
 that you left his house at half-past ten. You 
 saw nobody else after that, who could even 
 suggest an alibi. You got to the hotel drenched 
 and dripping, at precisely the time you would 
 have got there if you had been chased out of 
 the school at the time the intruder was. You 
 admit that you passed the school at the time 
 of the disturbance. The case is so clearly made 
 out against you, both by the positive testimony 
 of eyewitnesses, and by all the circumstances, 
 that any jury ever empanelled would have to 
 convict you. Why, I'd feel bound to convict 
 you myself " 
 
 " Do you mean that you have the remotest 
 shadow of doubt as to my innocence of this 
 charge?" sternly demanded Westover, rising. 
 
 " Certainly not. Don't be an idiot. Sit 
 down. But as the case stands we haven't a 
 straw to cling to. We can't impeach the testi- 
 mony of a dozen high-bred young women. 
 
OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 61 
 
 every one of whom swears positively that she 
 knows you well and that she saw you make 
 your escape from the invaded precincts. There 
 is no way in which we can so much as cast a 
 doubt upon your guilt. With the case pre- 
 sented as it stands, any juror who should 
 hesitate to pronounce you guilty would be a 
 perjurer. The only hope is that we may 
 find some way out before the case comes to 
 trial." 
 
 "When will that be?" asked Boyd West- 
 over, in a tone so stoically calm that Jack 
 Towns looked at him to see what had hap- 
 pened to him. 
 
 "Are you ill?" he asked. 
 
 " No, not at all. It is only that I see the 
 utter hopelessness of the case. I am a man 
 condemned to worse than death. But I am a 
 man and must face even such calamity without 
 flinching. When the trial is over, I shall be 
 a convicted felon. It will do no good to assert 
 my innocence. Nobody will believe it no- 
 body can, in face of the testimony. My life 
 is ruined, my reputation blasted, my doom 
 sealed. But I shall neither whine nor whim- 
 
62 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 per. Now tell me when the blow is to fall? 
 When will the trial occur ? " 
 
 " The court is in session now. The indict- 
 ment will be found to-morrow, but I shall se- 
 cure a postponement of the trial until the next 
 term." 
 
 " Do nothing of the kind. Let the trial 
 come on at once the sooner the better. De- 
 lay will do no sort of good. I believe every 
 accused person is entitled to ' a speedy trial.' 
 Demand that for me, and secure it." 
 
 Towns argued and pleaded, but to no pur- 
 pose. He could offer no suggestion of advan- 
 tage in delay, except by saying: 
 
 " I have always found it worth while to trust 
 to the unexpected. If we have time, something 
 may happen that we don't anticipate." 
 
 " And I, in the meantime ? " answered Boyd. 
 " No. Bring the thing to a head at once. 
 How soon can you make it ? " 
 
 " Within forty-eight hours," answered the 
 lawyer. " I advise against it, but " 
 
 " I quite understand. The responsibility 
 rests upon me. Go on and make an end of the 
 horrible thing." 
 
VII 
 
 IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 
 
 IT was the chivalric custom of the Virgin- 
 ians to protect their woman-kind in all cir- 
 cumstances, at all costs and at all hazards, 
 not only against wrong and danger, but equally 
 against annoyance and especially the annoy- 
 ance of publicity. Women in Virginia were 
 proudly feminine; men intensely and bravely 
 masculine. 
 
 Accordingly the news of Boyd Westover's 
 case had only begun to spread abroad when all 
 the male relatives of all the girls in Le Voiser's 
 school set themselves to hurry their daughters, 
 sisters and nieces into secure hiding, so that 
 they might be spared the annoyance of appear- 
 ing in court as witnesses in a criminal case. 
 
 Short as the time was, the officers sent to 
 serve summonses upon such as were wanted 
 found the school well nigh deserted. Some 
 63 
 
64 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 even of those on whom they succeeded in serv- 
 ing their subpoenas were protectingly abducted 
 before the day of the trial by relatives who 
 braved the penalties of contempt of court in 
 rescue of delicately nurtured maidens dear to 
 them. 
 
 Nevertheless there were one or two of the 
 girls present in court when Boyd Westover 
 was called to the bar. These had been in hid- 
 ing, but their places of concealment had been 
 discovered and the girls themselves brought by 
 force to the court. Then too the matron was 
 there prepared to bear unhesitating witness to 
 Boyd's identity with the offender. 
 
 A good deal of time was consumed in se- 
 curing a jury. The first man called declared : 
 
 " I would not believe this charge against 
 Boyd Westover even if I had been present, see- 
 ing him with my own eyes." Others ex- 
 pressed their incredulity in different forms of 
 words but with equal positiveness, and of 
 course all such were rejected. It thus hap- 
 pened that the jury was not completed till a 
 late hour in the day. But on the other hand 
 it took very little time for the Commonwealth's 
 
VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 65 
 
 witnesses to give their testimony, and after 
 one or two fruitless attempts to secure from 
 them an admission of doubt or possible mis- 
 take, Jack Towns forbore to cross examine 
 them. 
 
 He had no witnesses to offer in his client's 
 behalf. He had nothing to depend upon in- 
 deed except a certain persuasive eloquence 
 which had often served him well, and this he 
 brought to bear with all his passionate nature 
 to stimulate it. He spoke for an hour. He 
 argued, pleaded, persuaded. He set forth the 
 character of his client and of the distinguished 
 family from which he was sprung. He dwelt 
 upon the utter improbability of the commis- 
 sion of such a crime by such a man. He 
 pointed out and emphasized the fact that a 
 girls' school was not the place that any house- 
 breaker in his senses would think of entering 
 in search of booty. He ended with an im- 
 passioned setting forth of the ruin and dis- 
 grace that must fall upon this high-charactered 
 young man as the result of an adverse verdict. 
 So eloquently and so pathetically did he pre- 
 sent the pitiful aspect of the matter that tears 
 
66 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 ran down scores of cheeks, and the Judge him- 
 self bowed his head upon the desk in front of 
 the bench, as if to conceal an emotion he could 
 not control. 
 
 The Commonwealth's Attorney the pros- 
 ecuting officer rose, but instead of making 
 the usual speech, simply said, in a voice choked 
 with sobs: 
 
 " The testimony is before you, gentlemen of 
 the jury. I have nothing to add to it." 
 
 There was but one result possible. Ten 
 minutes after the jury retired, it filed into 
 court again bearing a verdict of " Guilty." 
 
 Boyd Westover was a convicted felon. The 
 sun of his fair young life had gone down amid 
 clouds of black disgrace, and it could know no 
 rising. Worse than death a thousand fold, 
 worse than the cruelest torture was this to a 
 proudly sensitive nature, nurtured in traditions 
 of honor that held every slightest character 
 stain to be an indelible blot. 
 
 Yet it was with head erect, with dry eyes, 
 with unshaken nerves and unflinching spirit 
 that he met this decree of doom. It was the 
 tradition of his race to meet Fate without fal- 
 
VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 67 
 
 tering, to fight while the possibility of fighting 
 lasted, and when it failed, to shroud an un- 
 daunted soul in the chain mail of unconquer- 
 able courage. 
 
 When the verdict was rendered, the young 
 man turned to his friend and counsellor, and 
 in an entirely unemotional voice, said: 
 
 " I thank you sincerely for all you have 
 done and tried to do. I have need of a little 
 time in which to arrange my affairs. Can 
 you do me a final favor by securing it for 
 me?" 
 
 The matter was easily arranged. The Judge, 
 full of compassion for the ruined youth, and 
 in spite of reason, testimony, and everything 
 else, still not believing in Boyd Westover's 
 guilt, asked if ten days would suffice. Then 
 without renewing the bail bonds that had ex- 
 pired with the beginning of the trial, he ap- 
 pointed the tenth day thereafter for sentence. 
 It was the Commonwealth's Attorney's busi- 
 ness to move for the renewal of the bonds, 
 without which the condemned man was in fact 
 under no restraint whatever, but he made no 
 motion of the kind. When asked by Jack 
 
68 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Towns some time afterwards why he had not 
 done his duty in that respect, he replied : 
 
 " I simply couldn't. Boyd Westover and I 
 were schoolmates, you know, and I lived for 
 many months in his father's house. I knew he 
 wouldn't run away. Who ever heard of a 
 Westover flinching? Why should I subject 
 him to an indignity ? " 
 
 Thus, in Virginia, did character personal 
 and inherited count. There were some 
 things that a gentleman could not do. He 
 might commit a crime of violence, but he could 
 not do a cowardly or treacherous act. The 
 bailiff who had trusted Boyd Westover's word 
 of honor, knew that and risked the loss of his 
 place upon his confidence in it. The Common- 
 wealth's Attorney knew it and took the chance 
 of impeachment upon it. 
 
 The net result was that on the day of his 
 conviction Boyd Westover walked out of 
 court an absolutely free man except in so far 
 as he was bound by his own sense of honor 
 and by the traditions of the race from which 
 he was sprung. These bound him to appear 
 in court for sentence at the end of the ten days 
 
VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 69 
 
 allowed to him, and as everybody knew, the 
 bond was amply sufficient. 
 
 Jack Towns took him in the meanwhile to 
 his own house. 
 
 " You'll be my guest," he said, " and I'll 
 see that we aren't interrupted." 
 
 " You still don't mind that ? " Boyd asked. 
 
 For response he got an earnest look in the 
 eyes, and the verbal answer: 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Boyd." 
 
 After a minute, Boyd asked, reflectively: 
 
 " How is it, Jack, that you and some others 
 seem still to believe in me? In view of the 
 evidence " 
 
 " Hang the evidence," interrupted the law- 
 yer. " Don't you know that character is the 
 most important and the most trustworthy fact 
 in life ? You don't suppose for a moment that 
 I have a doubt in your case, do you? If 
 you do, you grievously wrong my friend- 
 ship." 
 
 " How then do you account for the facts as 
 set forth in the testimony against me ? " 
 
 " What do you mean, Boyd ? Are you try- 
 ing to convince me that you are guilty of a 
 
70 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 crime that I know to be utterly impossible to 
 you?" 
 
 " No. I am only trying to find out the 
 grounds of your confidence in me, so that I 
 may know how far to impose on them in ma- 
 king my arrangements for the future. That's 
 the purport of my question, which, by the way, 
 you haven't answered yet." 
 
 " Oh well, as to that, you're the victim of 
 some hideous mistake. If you had let me stave 
 off your trial for six months the chances are we 
 should have found out what the mistake is. 
 As it is " 
 
 " As it is, I couldn't have lived for six 
 months in such suspense as that. Neither 
 could you, in like case. We're the sort of men 
 who say to the lightning, ' Strike if you will, 
 but don't prolong your threats.' Besides, I 
 cannot see how this thing could have been 
 bettered by delay. Those girls honestly believe 
 they recognized me as an intruder in the school. 
 They would believe that quite as firmly six 
 months hence as now." 
 
 " Perhaps so. But six months hence not one 
 of them would have been in Virginia to testify 
 
VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 71 
 
 against you. Their friends would have taken 
 care of that." 
 
 " Yes, I know. And I should have been sus- 
 pected of securing my acquittal by spiriting 
 away the witnesses against me. I couldn't live 
 under so black a shadow as that." 
 
 " I understand. But all this is profitless. 
 We have much to do to get your affairs in 
 order. Let us address ourselves to that. First 
 of all I've had all your mail sent up here from 
 the hotel. Suppose you read it now, and after 
 supper we'll set to work." 
 
VIII 
 
 THE SHADOWS FALL 
 
 WHEN the shadows begin to fall upon 
 a human life, they fall quickly and 
 darkly. 
 
 In Boyd Westover's mail was a letter from 
 the agent who had arranged the mortgage 
 loan upon Wanalah plantation, threatening to 
 abandon the arrangement on the ground that 
 young Westover's conviction impaired the se- 
 curity. This sorely troubled Boyd Westover 
 for if he was to go to prison his mother's 
 financial ease was a matter of primary concern 
 to him. It didn't trouble Jack Towns in the 
 least. 
 
 " Leave that to me for answer," the lawyer 
 said, taking possession of the letter. " The 
 man ought to seek employment as an oyster- 
 opener at Rockett's. That's about his size. 
 That mortgage is completely executed. I've 
 72 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL 73 
 
 seen to it, pending other things. That will 
 stand, and, as the property is amply good for 
 it, the fellow's an idiot to want to fly his bar- 
 gain." 
 
 There was news in the next mail that could 
 not be so lightly dismissed. The family phy- 
 sician wrote that Boyd's mother, already in 
 feeble and precarious health, had been shocked 
 by the tidings of her son's calamity into a con- 
 dition that threatened the worst. This calam- 
 ity was one which even Boyd Westover's stoi- 
 cism could not face without flinching. From 
 childhood his affection for his mother had been 
 a dominant passion, and since his father's death 
 it had become fatherly as well as filial. He 
 had jealously guarded that " little mother," as 
 he called her, against every shock, every care, 
 every breath of an adverse wind as it were. 
 He had made a veritable pet of her, and while 
 never for a moment laying aside his chivalric 
 respect and reverence, he had added to them 
 a certain big brotherly manner in which she 
 had found joy untellable. If she wearied while 
 walking with him in the house grounds, he 
 would pick her up, as he might have done with 
 
74 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 any child, and in spite of her laughing pro- 
 tests, carry her into the porch and deposit her 
 in a hammock. If a light shone disagreeably 
 in her eyes he discovered it and shut it off 
 before she became conscious of its glare. If 
 she went to her room to rest he quietly sta- 
 tioned a maid at the foot of the stairs with 
 orders to permit no noise and no passing up or 
 down. 
 
 Now that news came of this dearly loved lit- 
 tle mother's serious illness, the young man was 
 made to suffer agonies by the consciousness 
 that her affliction was on his account, so that 
 it required all of Jack Towns's eloquence to 
 convince him that he was himself in nowise to 
 blame for it. By way of emphasizing that, 
 the young lawyer had to put the matter into 
 brutally plain phrase. 
 
 " If you were guilty of the crime of which 
 you have been convicted, and for which you 
 will have to serve a term in state's prison, you 
 would do well to scourge your soul with a 
 whip of scorpions for your sin against the 
 mother who bore you. As you are innocent 
 of that and of all other crimes you have no 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL 75 
 
 right to hold yourself responsible for the con- 
 sequences of other people's mistakes." 
 
 " Am I free to go to my mother while she 
 yet lives ? " Boyd asked in an agony of appre- 
 hension. 
 
 Then Jack Towns lied like the generous 
 gentleman he was. 
 
 " No," he said. " Legally you are free to 
 go anywhere you please to Mozambique or 
 the dominions of Mumbo Jumbo if you choose. 
 But you are free only because of the generous 
 confidence .of the Judge and the Common- 
 wealth's Attorney in your honor as a gentle- 
 man. You are bound by that honor not to 
 leave Richmond during the days granted 
 you." 
 
 As a matter of fact Jack Towns had in his 
 possession a letter addressed to him by the 
 Westover family physician in which were 
 written these words : 
 
 " Whatever else happens, for heaven's sake 
 don't let Boyd come home now. The shock 
 of seeing him would kill his mother out of 
 hand." 
 
 But Jack Towns was a lawyer and he found 
 
76 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 a better way of putting the matter by way of 
 accomplishing his purpose. 
 
 Still another thing darkened the young 
 man's way. It was not because of news, but 
 because of no news at all. 
 
 There was no line in any of his mails from 
 Margaret Conway, the woman he loved with 
 all his soul, the woman who had plighted her 
 troth to him in the impassioned words he so 
 well remembered : 
 
 " I am not a woman to love lightly or lightly 
 to forget. Love seems to me a holy thing, and 
 to trifle with it a blasphemy. I have given you 
 my love, Boyd, and there is no power in all the 
 universe that can make me take it back. Even 
 you could not do that. Nothing you might 
 do even if it were crime itself could alter 
 the fact that my love is all yours, now and 
 forever." 
 
 Upon reflection, he absolved Margaret from 
 blame, and with good reason. Upon his first 
 accusation he had not written to her at all in 
 supplement to the love letter of that night. 
 He had regarded the whole matter as a thing 
 preposterous, which a hearing in the magis- 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL 77 
 
 trate's court would promptly dissipate into thin 
 air, and it had been his kindly thought not to 
 tell her of the absurd accusation until he could 
 tell her also of the ridiculous end made of it 
 at a court hearing. When at last the matter 
 had assumed a serious aspect he had written 
 her a letter in which he had asserted his inno- 
 cence but without protesting it in any impas- 
 sioned way. To that he had added: 
 
 " Of course if I am a man of honor I am 
 bound to offer you a release from the engage- 
 ment between us, while if I am not an honor- 
 able man but the criminal I am accused of be- 
 ing, you are free to take your release without 
 permission from me." 
 
 A calculation showed that if that letter had 
 reached its destination when it should, and if 
 an answer had been sent by the first returning 
 mail, he should now have the reply. But mails 
 were slow and uncertain in those days and The 
 Oaks lay far up near the Blue Ridge and seven 
 miles from the post office. It might easily have 
 happened that his letter to Margaret had not 
 reached her as soon as it should; or that the 
 shock of it might have unfitted her to reply 
 
78 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 immediately; or that her answer might have 
 been delayed in transmission. All these were 
 possibilities, and they comforted the young 
 man. 
 
 But as the days went by and still no letter 
 came from Margaret the comfort became less 
 and less, until at last he despaired and sum- 
 moned his stoicism to his relief. 
 
 " Why should I have expected her to write 
 to me? " he asked himself. " What obligation 
 can she owe to a convicted criminal? I was 
 a fool to look for a letter. I must bear my 
 burden alone. I must meet my fate with a 
 calm mind." 
 
 Then another thought came to him. 
 
 " I am living in a fool's paradise. Jack 
 Towns professes still to believe in me, and 
 perhaps he does. But how can I expect any- 
 body else to do so? In view of the testimony 
 against me, there is no room or reason for 
 doubt of my guilt in any sane mind. I must 
 recognize that and face it with what courage 
 I can. I am a convicted criminal, and I must 
 expect everybody to regard me as such. I 
 must go through my life with that brand upon 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL 
 
 79 
 
 my brow. There is an end of hope for me. 
 I must simply endure." 
 
 It was characteristic of him that in all this 
 melancholy meditation, no thought of suicide 
 entered his mind. He had from his youth up 
 held his life in readiness for sacrifice in any 
 worthy behalf. There was never a time when 
 he would not have given it as a forfeit in be- 
 half of those he loved, never a time when he 
 would not have laid it down gladly in answer 
 to any call of duty. But the cowardly thought 
 of destroying it by way of himself escaping 
 from intolerable sufferings did not suggest it- 
 self to his brave young soul. It is a man's 
 part to endure what comes to a man, and Boyd 
 Westover was altogether a man. 
 
 He remembered Margaret's impassioned 
 promise, and he doubted not the sincerity of 
 her soul in giving it. But he absolved her 
 now and accepted the result as part and parcel 
 of the strangely bewildering Fate that had 
 overtaken him. 
 
 To that effect he wrote to her on the night 
 before the day appointed for his sentencing. 
 On that day had come to him the crushing 
 
8o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 news of his mother's death, and very bitterly 
 he had felt the cruelty of a fate that forbade 
 him even to go home to bury his dead. 
 
 He wrote to Margaret: 
 
 " I find that I have been expecting some 
 letter from you in reply to my late one. I 
 realize that I had neither right nor reason to 
 expect anything of the kind. I am a convicted 
 criminal, convicted upon testimony so conclu- 
 sive that no sane person can doubt its truth. 
 To-morrow morning I shall be sentenced. 
 You can have no relations with me. You can 
 bear me no duty of any kind. It is only to 
 say this that I write to you now, to say that I 
 hold you absolved from any and all obligations 
 toward me, and that I shall live and die cher- 
 ishing in full measure my faith in your loyalty 
 and truth. You are never to let a doubt of 
 that vex your mind." 
 
 With that he finally banished all thought of 
 his past life, its joys, its sorrows, its aspira- 
 tions and its apprehensions, from his mind. 
 
 " How long a sentence will they give me, 
 Jack? " he asked his lawyer. 
 
 " I don't know. The shortest, probably, or 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL 81 
 
 very nearly the shortest that the law allows; 
 not over two years at any rate." 
 
 " Of course it doesn't matter," Boyd an- 
 swered. " Two minutes or two years of shame 
 are all one to a sensitive man, and as for the 
 ' hard labor/ I'm strong and well. I probably 
 shall not find it interesting to grind stove lids 
 or do whatever else the prison authorities set 
 me at, but at any rate the work will occupy the 
 time and prevent me from thinking too deeply. 
 It will tire me, too, so that I shall sleep of 
 nights." 
 
 Jack Towns found nothing to say by way of 
 reply, and he said nothing. Presently Boyd 
 drew a package of papers from his pocket and 
 passed it over to the man he regarded as the 
 one friend left him in all the world now. 
 
 " Perhaps you'd better look into that," he 
 said. " It may help Wanalah out of difficulty. 
 I don't know. The thing came in my mail a 
 week ago, but it didn't interest me then and 
 I slipped it into my pocket and forgot all about 
 it. No, don't bother with it now. Read it 
 later. Just now I have something else to talk 
 to you about. You've promised to look after 
 
82 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 my affairs while I'm in prison, and there's one 
 thing I want to ask you. Don't let the over- 
 seer at Wanalah work the servants too hard. 
 There is no need. With only ordinary crops 
 the plantation can easily carry its load now, 
 and I don't want the people there overworked. 
 See to it please. Now if you don't mind, I'm 
 going to bed. To-morrow night I'll lie in a 
 cell." 
 
 With that the young man withdrew, and 
 after half an hour of sad gazing at the moon- 
 light that streamed in through the window, 
 Jack Towns turned up the gas and set to work 
 reading the papers that had failed to interest 
 their owner. They interested Jack Towns 
 amazingly, and he had no sooner finished the 
 reading of them than he hurried unceremoni- 
 ously into Boyd's room, and shaking him said : 
 
 " Here, get up. This thing must be at- 
 tended to immediately. There are papers to 
 be drawn and executed at once. So hustle into 
 some clothes quick/' 
 
IX 
 
 THE COURAGE OF WOMANHOOD 
 
 WHEN rumors came to The Oaks of 
 Boyd Westover's trouble, Margaret 
 Conway's first impulse was to drive 
 over to Wanalah and comfort Boyd's mother 
 with assurances that there could be no truth in 
 the reports. Margaret had always cherished a 
 very tender affection for Mrs. Westover, and 
 during the brief time since her love had been 
 pledged to Boyd, she had found that affection 
 rapidly taking upon itself the character of a 
 girl's tenderness for her mother. Having 
 never known a mother of her own, the girl 
 was quick to make herself a daughter in affec- 
 tion where she was presently to become a 
 daughter in law and in fact. She drove every 
 day to Wanalah and spent loving hours there 
 with the gentle invalid who had so warmly 
 welcomed her daughterly love. 
 83 
 
84 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 But when the evil news of Bevel's convic- 
 tion came and Margaret planned to go earlier 
 than usual to Wanalah, Colonel Conway ob- 
 jected. 
 
 " You will only distress yourself and afflict 
 her," he said. " This thing will be your only 
 topic of conversation, and what can either of 
 you say that will bring comfort to the other ? " 
 
 " I can tell her I love her and that I loyally 
 believe in Boyd," answered the girl with all 
 the pride of her race in her voice and attitude. 
 
 " But how can you say that, daughter, in 
 face of the evidence?" 
 
 " It isn't evidence it's merely testimony. 
 The evidence lies in Boyd Westover's character 
 and it flatly contradicts the testimony. The 
 testimony is false; the evidence is subject to 
 no possible question. I'm sorry you don't see 
 it so, Father." 
 
 The old man paced the floor for a space and 
 then answered : 
 
 " Perhaps I do see it so. I'd like to, at any 
 rate; I'm strongly disposed to give the young 
 man the benefit of the doubt, but 
 
 " There isn't any doubt," interjected the 
 
COURAGE OF WOMANHOOD 85 
 
 passionate girl with vehemence. " There isn't 
 any doubt, and I shall quarrel even with you, 
 Father, if you suggest such a thing." 
 
 " Be calm, my child," pleaded the old man 
 placatively. " Perhaps you are right. I'm dis- 
 posed to take your view strongly so. But 
 there's your Aunt Betsy, you know." 
 
 " Yes, I know. She's the only human being 
 you were ever afraid of, Father. But you're 
 afraid of her as everybody else is everybody 
 but me. I don't know why." 
 
 " But your Aunt Betsy presents the matter 
 in a way that must be considered. She 
 says " 
 
 " Oh, I know what she says," interrupted the 
 overwrought girl. " She has said it all to me, 
 over and over again. She urges the conven- 
 tions the cowardly shams and falsities of 
 our artificial life. She talks of ' what people 
 will say/ as if it made any difference what 
 people say when we know we are doing right. 
 You know that Boyd Westover is an honorable 
 man, just as I know it. If you hadn't been 
 afraid of Aunt Betsy, you'd have done your 
 duty like a man; you'd have gone to Boyd's 
 
86 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 side. You'd have stood by him in his hour 
 of need " 
 
 " But, Margaret, what good would that have 
 done in face of the evidence or the testimony, 
 for I agree with you that there's a difference? " 
 
 " It would have strengthened and encour- 
 aged him with the assurance that one brave 
 man at least knew his character and was ready 
 to face calumny with an assertion of his con- 
 fidence. But you were afraid of Aunt Betsy. 
 It is the only cowardice I ever knew you to be 
 guilty of. She talks of placing ' blots on our 
 escutcheon ' as if we had an escutcheon, 
 whatever that sort of thing may be ; I tell you 
 the worst blot of all was made by your failure 
 to go to Richmond and stand by Boyd in his 
 undeserved trouble. You played the part of a 
 coward there. Pardon me if my words are 
 harsh. I feel them and mean them. Now I 
 am going to Wanalah. I, at least, will do my 
 part as a descendant of a brave race, if all the 
 demons of perdition stand in the way." 
 
 With that the girl moved proudly out of the 
 house, mounted the horse that a negro held 
 waiting for her, and rode away. 
 
COURAGE OF WOMANHOOD 87 
 
 She did not return until after the funeral at 
 Wanalah, which her father and her aunt at- 
 tended, and when she returned, her attitude 
 was one of stately reserve which appalled her 
 father and " grieved " her aunt. 
 
 In the meanwhile she had written every day 
 a loyal letter to Boyd Westover. 
 
 Not one of those letters ever reached him. 
 Nor did any of his letters come to her. Aunt 
 Betsy had deemed it her " duty to the family " 
 to see to that, and Aunt Betsy prided herself 
 upon doing her duty, no matter how disagree- 
 able it might be to others. 
 
 But the failure of the missives left Margaret 
 in sorely distressing perplexity. Why did not 
 Boyd write to her? Why did he not take her 
 into his confidence ? Especially why did he not 
 respond, in some way, to her repeated avowals 
 of splendid loyalty and confidence? 
 
 She could not understand. She could not 
 even inquire. She could only mourn. 
 
X 
 
 THE PACKET OF PAPERS 
 
 JACK TOWNS was accustomed to have 
 about him whatever there was that could 
 make his hard-working life comfortable, 
 if any reasonable expenditure of money could 
 secure it. And he interpreted the words 
 " reasonable expenditure," in that connection, 
 rather liberally. His income was large and he 
 had nobody anywhere dependent upon him. 
 Accordingly he was one of the two or three 
 self-indulgent men in Richmond at that time, 
 who possessed a set bath tub with water taps 
 running into it and a showering apparatus 
 above. 
 
 When he roused his friend that night, after 
 hurriedly running through the packet of pa- 
 pers, he was full of an eagerness and enthusi- 
 asm which the other did not seem to share. 
 Boyd Westover was sleepy, and worse still, in 
 88 
 
THE PACKET OF PAPERS 89 
 
 his present case, he was indifferent. What 
 good could a packet of papers or anything else 
 bring to a man disgraced, condemned, -doomed 
 to a life of lost repute? He heartily wished 
 that Jack had kept the papers and done what- 
 ever he pleased with them after the closing of 
 the prison doors behind himself on the ap- 
 proaching day. But in response to Jack's in- 
 sistence, he arose, drew on a light dressing 
 gown and slippers, and offered his dully unin- 
 terested presence in Jack's dining room. 
 
 Promptly recognizing his condition of mind, 
 Jack took matters into his own hands, after a 
 masterful habit he had. He seized Boyd by 
 the elbow and led him into the bath room. 
 
 " There," he said ; " lay off your gown and 
 pull your toes out of those slippers. Hop into 
 the tub and I'll wake you up." 
 
 At the next instant the cold shower de- 
 'scended upon the young man's head and per- 
 son, and Jack continued his chatter. 
 
 " Now you're awake, rub yourself down and 
 come into the dining room. I've got to have 
 you awake and you and I are going to work 
 all night. I've sent Dick for half a hundred 
 
9 o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 oysters and a dozen bottles of cold ale, and 
 later he'll make black coffee for us. Hurry up 
 now, and * do try to be interested ' as a bash- 
 ful friend of mine said to a girl when he was 
 about to propose to her." 
 
 As he left the bath room abruptly, Boyd 
 made no reply until he joined the lawyer in the 
 dining room where the papers from the packet 
 lay spread out in the order in which they were 
 to be taken up for consideration. Then he 
 said: 
 
 " I will try to be interested, Jack ; for your 
 sake I'll do my best. But what interest can 
 a man in my position feel in anything? " 
 
 " Now listen to me, Boyd ! " Jack Towns 
 said commandingly, and rising to his feet to 
 say it. " Listen to me. You are morbid. You 
 need calomel or something. You're the victim 
 of some mistake and you're in sore trouble. 
 But you are not disgraced. Nobody can 
 disgrace a man but the man himself. You 
 are conscious of your own honor; what mat- 
 ters it what others think? Besides, no hon- 
 est man in Virginia believes that you are 
 guilty of a sneaking crime or capable of it. 
 
THE PACKET OF PAPERS 91 
 
 The jury that convicted you didn't believe it 
 and not one of them believes it now. The 
 Judge who will sentence you doesn't believe it. 
 If the envious and malignant falsely pretend 
 to believe it, why should you care for the des- 
 picable pretense of people so utterly unwor- 
 thy? If cowards fight shy of your acquaint- 
 ance, lest recognition of you should compro- 
 mise themselves, why should you care for the 
 acquaintance of such poltroons? You are 
 Westover of Wanalah inheritor of an hon- 
 orable name. You will be that so long as you 
 shall live. It behoves you to bear that name 
 with head erect and with contempt alone for 
 those who do not recognize your worthiness 
 to bear it. This affair is an unfortunate inci- 
 dent. It will soon be over, and you will have 
 a lifetime before you in which to teach men 
 the falsity of the accusation against you. 
 There. My lecture is done. Let us get to 
 these papers. They hold great news for you." 
 
 When the two were seated, Jack took up a 
 letter, which was first of the papers in the 
 order of consideration. 
 
 " This is from a firm of lawyers, Dodge, 
 
92 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Denslow and Deming of Denver charm- 
 ingly alliterative throughout do you happen 
 to know who they are? " 
 
 " Yes, in a way. There was a memorandum 
 among my father's papers, that mentioned 
 them." 
 
 " Well, go on. What did it say, or reveal, 
 or suggest? This is business, Boyd. Put 
 your thinking machine on it." 
 
 " I will, to oblige you, Jack. The memo- 
 randum catalogued a long list of mining lands 
 and mining claims somewhere up in the Rocky 
 Mountains or in some side issue of a range 
 you'll find the paper in my desk at home 
 lands and claims which my father had bought 
 during one of his journeys out that way and 
 had placed in my name, as a provision for me 
 in case of accident." 
 
 " That accounts for these papers being in 
 your name and not your father's," interrupted 
 Jack. " I was puzzled by that. But go on. 
 I want to hear all about it." 
 
 {( Well, you know my father was an optimist 
 a dreamer almost and he was possessed 
 of an idea, reflected in the memorandum, that 
 
THE PACKET OF PAPERS 93 
 
 these things would make the future Westover 
 of Wanalah myself or my son if I should 
 have one enormously rich. As nearly as I 
 could make out, the multitudinous lands and 
 mining claims he bought in my name covered 
 a large area of entirely untillable and not very 
 accessible land somewhere up in the high 
 mountains, where grub-staked miners scratched 
 the surface for silver ore, with now and then 
 a little find of gold. They worked on shares 
 somehow, and this law firm collected my share 
 from time to time and remitted it. It was so 
 small a part of the assets of the estate that I've 
 forgotten how much it was. That's all I know 
 of Dodge, Denslow & Deming." 
 
 " You're likely to know a good deal more 
 about them hereafter," said Jack, " if I can 
 awaken in your mind a reasonable interest in 
 a matter that promises to make you the richest 
 man in Virginia, twice or thrice over." 
 
 " Cui bono ? " responded Boyd. " When my 
 prison term ends I shall have enough, without 
 that, to feed me, and I've nobody else to 
 feed." 
 
 " Boyd Westover, if you go on in that mood, 
 
94 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 I'll chuck you into the bath tub again and set 
 the shower going without giving you a chance 
 to shed your clothes. Can't you see that when 
 you when well, when present difficulties 
 are over, this thing will give you an interest 
 in life, something to occupy your mind, some- 
 thing to manage and oh, I forgot, you don't 
 know the facts yet. It appears from these 
 papers we won't bother now to read them 
 in detail that the mining lands your father 
 bought in your name, have proved to be about 
 the richest in the world. They cover practi- 
 cally all of one of the richest deposits of gold, 
 silver, lead, and quicksilver, ever discovered. 
 Listen. This is the way Jake Greenfield puts 
 it in a letter. Jake seems to be a shrewd Yan- 
 kee whom your lawyers have established on 
 the lands to watch operations and prevent tres- 
 pass. He writes to the lawyers: 
 
 " ' I don't s'pose Mr. Westover nor you 
 neither's got a krect idee of what he's got up 
 here. It's like an injun's blanket, with fringes 
 all round it. He's got the blanket an' these 
 fellers what's opened up mines north an' south 
 
THE PACKET OF PAPERS 95 
 
 of him has got the fringes. Nachurly they's 
 a tryin' to git in under the blanket, but I'm a 
 watchin' out an' they're a doin' no trespassin'. 
 They's got the fence corners an' Mr. West- 
 stover's got the field. They's plannin' to buy 
 him out an' they's got experts an' engineers an' 
 lawyers enuff here to run a ship or an orphan 
 asylum. My say to Mr. West Stover is don't 
 bargain with 'em till you know for yourself. 
 That used to be our way in Varmont, whare I 
 come from. This is my wink to a blind hoss, 
 an' a nod with it' 
 
 " The lawyers seem to have taken Jake 
 Greenfield's counsel seriously, so far at least 
 as to send experts of their own to study the 
 situation, and these seem to confirm Jake's 
 judgment. So do these other letters, from the 
 mining men who want to buy you out. I'll 
 read them." 
 
 " Can't you summarize them in your own 
 words, Jack? " interrupted Boyd. " The thing 
 doesn't greatly interest me, and " 
 
 " Well, listen then, and perhaps I can 
 awaken your interest. These people it appears 
 
96 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 are amply backed by New York and Boston 
 bankers. In fact the bankers really constitute 
 the company, and they seem to know their own 
 minds. They have spent some hundreds of 
 thousands in setting up machinery and all that 
 sort of thing, and they say their mining opera- 
 tions are paying heavy dividends twenty- 
 five or thirty per cent, on their investment. 
 But the richest leads or lodes or veins or what- 
 ever they are called, lie beneath your land. 
 You've got the blanket and they only the 
 fringe, as Jake picturesquely puts it. They 
 want to buy the blanket, or get in under it 
 somehow, and they're prepared to pay for what 
 they want. They propose to organize a new 
 company to work the whole thing; they to 
 put in their plant, their costly machinery, their 
 mining privileges and all their other assets, and 
 you to put in your mineral lands. They make 
 you a flat offer of nine hundred thousand dol- 
 lars in money, and thirty-nine per cent, of the 
 stock of the new company, if you will join 
 them in this project by ceding your lands, min- 
 ing rights, etc., to the joint concern. Perhaps 
 they can be induced to do better even than 
 
THE PACKET OF PAPERS 97 
 
 that, as they seem very eager, but that is what 
 they offer to begin with. It means fabulous 
 wealth to you if their hopes as to the profits 
 of the new company are measurably fulfilled, 
 and even if they are not fulfilled at all it means 
 that you can wear Wanalah plantation as a 
 watch charm for all your life to come. Isn't 
 that a fine prospect? " 
 
 Jack was disappointed in Boyd's reply. He 
 had hoped that this startling happening might 
 awaken his friend to a new interest in life and 
 life's affairs, but, after swallowing two oys- 
 ters and slowly sipping half a glass of ale, the 
 unfortunate young man said, in a melancholy 
 tone: 
 
 " I suppose the thing ought to be looked 
 into. If I were a free man again, I'd make 
 my way out into those wilds and see what 
 could be done. As it is " 
 
 " As it is," broke in Jack Towns, " you're 
 going to execute a sweeping power of attorney 
 authorizing me to act for you, and I'm going 
 out there. When you well, I mean later, 
 you'll take hold of the thing yourself, and those 
 hustling fellows out there will wake you up, 
 
g8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 if I can't. Go to bed now, if you feel like it. 
 I'll prepare the power of attorney and you can 
 execute it at breakfast time. I must say you're 
 uncommonly bad company." 
 
 " I suppose I am," said Boyd as he shuffled 
 off to his bedroom. 
 
XI 
 
 THE EVENTS OF A MORNING 
 
 IT was with a firm step and with head erect, 
 and, more significant still, with eyes that 
 looked straight into other eyes without a 
 suggestion of flinching, that Boyd Westover 
 entered the court room on the morning ap- 
 pointed for the pronouncement of sentence 
 upon him. Jack Towns, who accompanied 
 him, thought he had never seen so superb an 
 exhibition of stoicism as that which Boyd had 
 given throughout this affair. 
 
 " But this caps the climax," he said to the 
 Commonwealth's Attorney, whose drawn fea- 
 tures showed clearly the distress he felt in view 
 of the duty he had to do in moving that sen- 
 tence be pronounced upon his old schoolmate, 
 his boyhood's comrade, whom he had been 
 compelled to prosecute and convict of an in- 
 famous crime. * 
 99 
 
ioo WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Just look at him," Jack whispered. " For 
 all that his appearance or his manner could 
 mean you'd think he had come here to deliver 
 an oration on some distinguished occasion. 
 It's simply magnificent ! " 
 
 " It is simply horrible my part of it, I 
 mean," answered the other with a suppressed 
 groan. 
 
 There was no further time for conversation. 
 The moment had come when Boyd Westover 
 must be called to the bar to receive the sen- 
 tence of the court. The Commonwealth's At- 
 torney made the necessary motion in a voice 
 that could hardly be heard because of his lack 
 of control over his organs of speech. The 
 Judge tried hard to deliver the little address 
 he had carefully prepared as a means of sug- 
 gesting what he could not say that in spite 
 of everything he could not personally regard 
 Boyd Westover as a man actually guilty of 
 crime. His voice behaved so badly that after 
 a futile attempt he gave up the effort to say 
 anything, except the formal words that con- 
 demned the prisoner to serve a term at hard 
 labor in the State prison. 
 
EVENTS OF A MORNING 101 
 
 The term fixed by the sentence was the short- 
 est that the law allowed, but what comfort was 
 there in that to a sensitive man like Boyd West- 
 over, to whom disgrace for half a minute 
 meant the same thing as disgrace for all time ? 
 It is doubtful that he even grasped the mean- 
 ing of the words used in limiting the sentence 
 to the briefest time allowed. 
 
 As there were papers to be made out and 
 signed, Jack Towns and his client sat for a 
 brief while waiting. Presently there was a 
 little commotion in the outer corridor and a 
 moment later a bailiff hurriedly entered and 
 made his way to the Commonwealth's Attor- 
 ney, to whom he whispered excitedly. That 
 officer asked a brief question or two under his 
 breath. Then he turnexl to the court and said, 
 while all listened with the greatest interest : 
 
 " If your honor please, something has hap- 
 pened something out of the ordinary, some- 
 thing important, something which if I am cor- 
 rectly informed vitally concerns business now 
 before the court. I ask to be excused for a 
 few minutes in order that I may learn the facts 
 and report them to the court." 
 
102 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 With that, receiving a nod of approval from 
 the Judge, he withdrew. 
 
 When he had gone the Judge said : 
 
 " We may as well save what we can of the 
 time of waiting. Mr. Clerk, if you have the 
 papers ready in the Westover case I'll sign 
 them." 
 
 They were passed to him and, after he had 
 signed them, handed over to the sheriff, thus 
 completing that matter at once. 
 
 A moment later, the Commonwealth's At- 
 torney returned, pale to the lips, trembling like 
 one in an ague fit, and with the muscles about 
 his mouth twitching in a way that was posi- 
 tively painful to all who looked at him. 
 
 In a voice that was hard, metallic, and obvi- 
 ously controlled only by a supreme effort of 
 the will, he addressed the court. 
 
 " There has been a terrible mistake made," 
 he said with none of the formalities of speech 
 usual in addressing a tribunal, " a disas- 
 trous, cruel, irreparable mistake, for my share 
 in which I hide my head in shame as I ask God 
 and man to pardon me. In convicting and 
 sentencing Boyd Westover, we have convicted 
 
EVENTS OF A MORNING 103 
 
 and sentenced an innocent man. The real cul- 
 prit is now in a jury room adjoining this apart- 
 ment. He has been caught in a repetition of 
 the act for which Boyd Westover has been 
 convicted and sentenced. He has confessed 
 that he was the offender on the former occa- 
 sion, and the committing magistrate before 
 whom he was brought this morning has 
 brought him hither to repeat his confession 
 and to let your honor look upon him. It is 
 the most phenomenal case of mistaken identity 
 I ever knew or heard of. Even fiction, with 
 its limitless license of invention, offers no par- 
 allel that I ever heard of. The resemblance 
 between this man and Boyd Westover is so 
 perfect, so startling in its completeness that I 
 could never have believed it upon any testi- 
 mony other than that of my own eyes. I ask 
 permission to bring the prisoner into court." 
 
 By this time the court room was packed with 
 all sorts and conditions of men, for the news 
 of what had happened during the night before 
 had spread like wildfire over the city. 
 
 A minute later the prisoner, who gave his 
 name as " Dolly Andrews," but admitted that 
 
io 4 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Dolly " was short for Adolphus, was brought 
 to the bar. At the Commonwealth's Attor- 
 ney's request, Boyd Westover moved forward 
 and stood by his side. 
 
 The two men were precisely alike in size, 
 form and feature, but strangely unlike in ex- 
 pression. As Jack Towns put the matter: 
 " Boyd Westover, being a gentleman, looks 
 into your eyes when he speaks to you or you 
 to him; the other fellow looks anywhere but 
 at you. In the one face there is intelligence, 
 in the other a low cunning ; in the one an alert 
 outlook, in the other a look of morbid intro- 
 spection. Still the two men are absolutely 
 alike in all physical respects more alike than 
 I supposed that even twins could be. I could 
 myself easily mistake one for the other, and I 
 don't wonder that a lot of excited school girls, 
 routed out of bed in the middle of the night 
 and with only bedroom candles to see by, made 
 the terrible mistake they did." 
 
 The problem now was what to do. Fortu- 
 nately the committing magistrate was a man of 
 wise discretion. He presented himself in court 
 and said to the Judge : 
 
EVENTS OF A MORNING 
 
 " I have not yet committed this man, though 
 he was caught in the act and has made full 
 confession, both as to his present offence and 
 as to the former crime, of which another has 
 been mistakenly convicted. I have thought it 
 better to bring him before your honor and ask 
 you to sit as committing magistrate in the case, 
 in order that you may yourself hear his confes- 
 sion. It has seemed to me that this course 
 was best in aid of justice in another case." 
 
 After an exchange of dignified compliments, 
 the Judge, sitting as a committing magistrate, 
 heard the case. During the preceding night 
 there had been an alarm of " burglars " in Le 
 Voiser's school. As before, the matron mar- 
 shalled her charges for retreat, but this time 
 there were two stalwart men on the premises 
 and awaiting call. Monsieur Le Voiser had 
 looked out for that, by ordering his furnace 
 man and his steward to sleep in a room within 
 convenient call, and when the intruder at- 
 tempted to escape they were there to seize and 
 hold him by physical force. 
 
 They testified to the facts. 
 
 Then the culprit repeated the confession he 
 
io6 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 had already made. He seemed in no way 
 ashamed, and he did not hesitate. He declared 
 that it was he, and not Boyd Westover, who 
 had invaded the school on the former occasion, 
 and when asked what his motive was, he dis- 
 claimed all purposes of robbery and sought to 
 justify himself by the solemn declaration : 
 
 " On both occasions I went there under the 
 command of the Supreme Being." 
 
 " Just what do you mean by that?" asked 
 the Judge, testily. 
 
 " I am divinely commissioned to marry 
 Miss " 
 
 "Stop!" commanded the Judge. "Don't 
 mention the young lady's name. Just say ' a 
 certain young lady.' We won't have her name 
 dragged into the case." 
 
 " Very well," said the culprit. " It is only 
 that I am acting under a divine commission and 
 have nothing to conceal. I must marry the 
 young lady in question. I met her in the street 
 once, and talked to her on the subject. She 
 mistook me for Boyd Westover, and I thought 
 it best to use that name in my dealings with 
 her. You see, Judge, when one is divinely 
 
EVENTS OF A MORNING 107 
 
 commissioned to achieve a purpose, details 
 make no difference." 
 
 " Go on," said the Judge; "omit expla- 
 nations and arguments, and tell what hap- 
 pened." 
 
 " The young lady rejected my addresses. 
 I was not discouraged by that. I had been 
 divinely warned to expect it. I wrote her 
 many notes, but she did not reply to them. 
 Then I saw my duty clearly. I decided to use 
 gentle force and carry her away with me, 
 leaving the divine influence to chasten her 
 proud spirit and teach her the duty of loving 
 me. I have been twice defeated in my endeav- 
 ors. I shall succeed when the appointed time 
 is ripe. I must be patient and faithful, that is 
 all." 
 
 " After all," whispered Jack Towns to the 
 Commonwealth's Attorney, " that hysterical 
 girl who said he had come to abduct her was 
 right, except in her identification of the man." 
 
 " Yes, but the exception is one of disastrous 
 consequences. Help me, Towns, to right this 
 wrong! I'll never do the like again. I'll 
 never prosecute another case so long as I live. 
 
io8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 I've already sent in my resignation from of- 
 fice." 
 
 " You're a sublimated idiot," said Jack. 
 " Listen. The Judge is speaking." 
 
 " I will commit this man to await the action 
 of the Grand Jury," the Judge said. " In the 
 meanwhile the Court suggests to the Common- 
 wealth's Attorney the propriety of asking for 
 a commission in lunacy to inquire into this 
 man's sanity." 
 
 Thus spurred out of the lethargic collapse 
 into which he had fallen, the official prosecu- 
 tor made the necessary motion and the court 
 promptly appointed the commission. 
 
 Then Jack Towns arose to ask: 
 
 " What is to be done to right the wrong in 
 the case of my client? And more especially, 
 what is to be done to prevent the aggravation 
 of that wrong? I call attention to the fact 
 that the papers committing this obviously in- 
 nocent man to the penitentiary are already in 
 the hands of the sheriff, who has no right to 
 exercise discretion in the case. In the ordinary 
 course of events my client, innocent of offence 
 as he obviously is, must pass the portals of the 
 
EVENTS OF A MORNING 
 
 109 
 
 prison within the hour. I ask the court to pre- 
 vent this crowning wrong in a case in which 
 enough and too much of wrong has been done 
 already." 
 
 The Judge was in full sympathy, but for 
 order's sake he asked if the Commonwealth's 
 Attorney desired to be heard in opposition to 
 the request of the counsel. 
 
 " Not in opposition," said the official, " but 
 in full and hearty sympathy. I feel that a 
 great wrong has been done; I feel this so 
 strongly that I have sent to the proper author- 
 ity my resignation of the office I hold, in order 
 that I may never again have part or lot in a 
 wrong so grievous. I earnestly second the re- 
 quest of the counsel for the prisoner that every- 
 thing shall be done which the law permits, to 
 prevent further wrong and to right the wrong 
 already done." 
 
 " Very well," said the Judge. " The sheriff 
 is ordered to return to the clerk the papers in 
 his possession. The prisoner is paroled in the 
 custody of his counsel, to await further pro- 
 ceedings. Unfortunately the court knows of 
 no process of law by which the fact of this 
 
no WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 innocent man's conviction and sentence can be 
 undone. It is not within the power of man to 
 make that not to be which has been. The 
 court cannot undo the proceedings that have 
 been had in this case. It can only make an 
 earnest effort to prevent the wrongful results 
 of those proceedings. To that end I purpose 
 to go in person before the Governor of the 
 State to ask for the fullest reparation that can 
 be made, namely, a pardon pardon for a 
 crime that has not been committed. It seems 
 almost a mockery, but it is the best that is pos- 
 sible under the law. In order to give all the 
 emphasis I can to the proceedings, I shall ad- 
 journ court for a time, and ask the Common- 
 wealth's Attorney to accompany me on this 
 mission of justice. Further than that, I direct 
 him to summon the members of the jury that 
 convicted Boyd Westover of a crime of which 
 he is not guilty, to go with us before the Gov- 
 ernor and join us in our request. So far as 
 the securing of a pardon is concerned, no ef- 
 fort of this kind is necessary; but the court 
 deems it proper in this case to make this united 
 appeal of judge, jury, and prosecutor by way 
 
EVENTS OF A MORNING in 
 
 of emphasizing our recognition of the injustice 
 done. The court stands adjourned until four 
 o'clock this afternoon, at which hour Mr. 
 Boyd Westover " the Judge no longer spoke 
 of him as " the prisoner " " will present 
 himself here and the court will itself deliver 
 to him as it is fitting that the court should 
 do in such a case the papers relieving him, 
 so far as it is possible now to relieve him, of 
 all the consequences of a clearly erroneous ac- 
 cusation and conviction." 
 
 When the Judge ceased speaking, Boyd 
 Westover made a profound bow to him, say- 
 ing simply : " I thank you." Then turning to 
 Towns he said : 
 
 " Come, Jack ! I'm faint and hungry. Let's 
 go to Tom Griffin's and get something to 
 eat." 
 
 Tom Griffin's was a place well known in the 
 Richmond of that old time. Tom himself was 
 a negro slave who enjoyed vastly more liberty 
 than any free man of color ever did in Vir- 
 ginia. Every gentleman in Richmond was his 
 personal friend; so was every aristocratic 
 planter east of the Blue Ridge. Any one of 
 
ii2 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 them would have drawn his check in payment 
 for Tom's liberty, if Tom had desired to be 
 free. But Tom Griffin wanted nothing of the 
 kind. He was happy and he knew when he 
 was well off. If his freedom had been bought, 
 he must, under the law, have left his native 
 state, whose people were his friends and whose 
 associations meant to him all that life could 
 mean. 
 
 He knew all there was to know of catering 
 and of cookery. Better still, as he phrased it, 
 he " instincted just how to make things good 
 to eat." He had genius, in short, and the fact 
 was recognized and celebrated by every man in 
 Virginia who had a palate and the price 
 and who enjoyed Tom Griffin's favor. For 
 Tom Griffin's place was no ordinary restaurant. 
 Men of the common herd were not welcomed 
 there. Only those whom he recognized as his 
 friends and his friendships were rigidly re- 
 stricted to the aristocratic class were priv- 
 ileged to sit at Tom's polished old mahogany 
 table, and enjoy sora, or canvas backs or te*r- 
 rapin in perfection. Only such were served 
 with his glorified chine and spare-ribs, his roast 
 
EVENTS OF A MORNING 
 
 turkey or his forequarters of spring lamb. 
 And those who were so privileged could never 
 be persuaded to believe that anybody else in all 
 the world could even by accident serve any 
 viand in such perfection as that in which every 
 viand came from Tom Griffin's expert hands. 
 
 Tom probably knew who his master was, 
 but nobody else ever asked. Tom probably 
 paid his master a liberal compensation for his 
 time ; he could well afford to do so. For Tom 
 Griffin was rich so rich that many a young 
 Virginian whose frequent rash expenditures 
 threatened to involve him in argument with his 
 father, found relief in a loan from Tom Grif- 
 fin's hand, concerning which no papers were 
 passed. These loans were certain to be repaid. 
 They were debts of honor, seeing that as a 
 suitor Tom Griffin a negro slave would 
 have had no standing in court. 
 
 Tom Griffin had waiters in adequate force, 
 but he never permitted them to serve a gentle- 
 man without his personal superintendence. If 
 a gentleman wanted a glass of water during 
 his meal as even Virginia gentlemen some- 
 times did Tom regarded his waiter as a 
 
ii 4 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 person competent to serve it. The waiter could 
 clear away the used crockery, too, and see to it 
 that lighted wax candles were in place for 
 cigar-lighting purposes. There were other 
 minor offices that Tom permitted to his wait- 
 ers. But when it came to serving a dish, Tom 
 took the function upon himself. 
 
 " You see," he once explained, " the boys is 
 so stupid. If I've laid myself out to have a 
 dish just right, I ain't a goin' to spile all my 
 work by lettin' a clumsy nigger slap-bang it 
 on the table, like as if he was a sellin' fish in 
 the market." 
 
 In accordance with his custom, therefore, 
 Tom personally served a dinner that Boyd 
 Westover had not ordered. There were soft 
 crabs to begin with. There was a whole fore- 
 quarter of genuine spring lamb for Boyd to 
 carve at will. There were the earliest peas 
 of the season, secured by Tom Griffin's " Sys- 
 tem," which consisted in letting all the market 
 gardeners know that he paid higher prices than 
 anybody else for the first and best of every 
 garden's product, and, more important still, 
 that any gardener failing to give him first 
 
EVENTS OF A MORNING 115 
 
 choice would be cut off his list, a proscription 
 too serious to be faced with composure. There 
 were the first tomatoes of the season, too, and 
 there was everything else that was possible, 
 including a meringe a la creme, black coffee 
 and cigars at the end. 
 
 Boyd Westover had ordered nothing of the 
 sort, but Tom Griffin served it all quite as if 
 he had done so, and when it came upon the 
 table Tom busied himself and a corkscrew in 
 opening a dusty, cobwebbed bottle of antique 
 Madeira, saying as he did so : 
 
 " Dis is Ann Maria wine, Mas' Boyd, an* 
 dere ain't much of it left in Old Virginia, I 
 reckon. Will you 'scuse me ef I say I ain't 
 paid no attention to your order in gittin' your 
 dinner ready, an' I ain't asked what sort o' 
 wine you wanted ? De explanation is dat Tom 
 Griffin is a furnishin' this here dinner an' this 
 here Ann Maria Madeira, as his contribution 
 to de joyful occasion. Gentlemen, I trust your 
 appetites is good." 
 
 With that Tom withdrew too hastily for 
 protest or remonstrance. As he went he 
 snatched a napkin from a vacant table, with 
 
n6 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 which to dry his dusky cheeks of the tears that 
 were streaming down them in spite of all his 
 efforts at self-control. 
 
 Tom had learned from his customers to 
 speak fairly correct English, and his lapse into 
 the negro dialect of his boyhood on this occa- 
 sion was the " outward and visible sign of the 
 inward " emotional disturbance that Boyd 
 Westover's experience had wrought in his all- 
 affectionate soul. 
 
XII 
 
 AFTER THE STORM 
 
 HUNGRY as Boyd Westover had de- 
 clared himself to be, and tempting as 
 was the dinner that Tom Griffin 
 served, the young man ate with scant appetite, 
 and when the meal was over his friend was 
 anxiously worried. 
 
 " See here, Boyd ! " he said. " In view of 
 all the circumstances you ought to be the j oi- 
 liest fellow in Richmond to-day. You've 
 borne up astonishingly during the real stress 
 of this affair. Why should you flunk now that 
 it's all over and you're a victor? " 
 
 " I'm not flunking. I'll never flunk, but 
 stoicism costs," answered Westover. 
 " Just how do you mean ? " 
 " I mean that my determination to bear a 
 bold and unflinching front as it becomes a 
 Westover to do when the penitentiary doors 
 117 
 
n8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 were yawning for me, with lifelong disgrace 
 as my portion, has taken more out of me than 
 you can easily believe. To a man raised in our 
 traditions, the prospect of disgrace and shame 
 is a fearful thing to face. A score of agoniz- 
 ing deaths by torture would have been to me 
 as nothing in comparison with what I have 
 suffered in contemplation of this horror. I 
 have faced the thing as bravely as I could. 
 That much I owed to my name, my caste, my 
 lineage call it what you will. But my bank 
 account of endurance is running low now. 
 My drafts upon it have been heavy and 
 well, there have been no deposits to strengthen 
 it." 
 
 He was thinking bitterly of Margaret Con- 
 way's defection. 
 
 " Don't let us talk of that. I'm as nearly 
 on the verge of collapse as a healthy man can 
 be, that's all." 
 
 " But you are vindicated, and when your 
 pardon comes this afternoon " 
 
 " Pardon ? Yes. For a crime I did not com- 
 mit. Think of it, Jack. From this hour forth 
 I shall be a man accused, convicted and sen- 
 
AFTER THE STORM 119 
 
 tenced for a crime of infamous character, and 
 graciously pardoned for it. It couldn't be 
 worse except to my own soul if I were 
 guilty. The pardon undoes nothing but the 
 punishment. It doesn't wipe out the stain. 
 It doesn't oh, well, you understand. I am 
 free, but my life is ruined. If I were called 
 as a witness in court, the opposing attorney 
 would be free to ask me if I had not been con- 
 victed of a felony and sentenced, and I should 
 have to answer yes. Then he could forbid 
 me to explain. The thing is horrible. The 
 law as it stands is infamously unjust. Why 
 should I be a pardoned criminal when I have 
 committed no crime? Why should not the 
 court that convicted me and sentenced me un- 
 der a mistake have power to undo the wrong 
 by another trial or procedure of some kind? 
 Why should I not be acquitted of a false ac- 
 cusation instead of being ' pardoned ' for an 
 offence never committed? No, don't bother 
 to answer. I know the answer already. Such 
 cases are too rare for the law to have provided 
 for them, though it is the law's boast that there 
 is no wrong for which it doesn't provide a 
 
120 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 remedy. However, let's talk of something else. 
 I'm going off for rest. I suppose this Rocky 
 Mountain matter ought to be looked after. 
 Will you go out there as my representative, 
 under your blanket power of attorney, and do 
 whatever you think best about it? There 
 seems to be money enough in it to pay you all 
 you want in the way of fees, according to 
 your representation." 
 
 " I'll go, of course. But I wish you would 
 go instead, or go with me. It would divert 
 your mind, and, believe me, Boyd, you need 
 such diversion more than anything else. Why 
 can't you go ? " 
 
 " Because I must rest, and because well, 
 because of many things. Never mind. I'm 
 not going and you are. I'm going a fishing. 
 Draw up all the necessary papers and I'll exe- 
 cute them. Can you get them ready to- 
 night? I want to go away to-morrow morn- 
 ing and forget." 
 
 " Where will you go ? To Wanalah ? " 
 
 " No ; except for brief preparations. To 
 the mountains. You know I own three or four 
 high mountain tops up in the Blue Ridge, with 
 
AFTER THE STORM 121 
 
 the swales, called valleys, that lie between. 
 The land is worthless, but the woods up there 
 are full of game and the brooks alive with 
 trout. My grandfather bought the vast tract 
 as an indulgence and my father kept it with 
 a like purpose. There's a shack of some sort 
 up there I believe. If not, I can build one in 
 a half day, and it will interest me to chink and 
 daub it." 
 
 Jack Towns sat silent for a time. Then he 
 said: 
 
 " I heartily disapprove of your plan. It 
 means solitude, and you need association with 
 men to cure you of morbid and unwholesome 
 feelings." 
 
 " But I can associate with men only upon 
 sufferance. You've heard of the person who 
 said : ' The more I see of men, the better I 
 like dogs/ I'm not quite of his mind, but any- 
 how I'm going up into the high mountains 
 with my dogs, my guns and my fishing tackle. 
 So get all the papers ready, Jack, and let me 
 get away as soon as possible." 
 
 Again, Jack Towns sat silent and troubled. 
 After awhile he said : 
 
122 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Of course you'll go to my house to-night 
 and be my guest so long as you remain in 
 Richmond?" 
 
 " Thank you, I will if you'll see to it that 
 no visitors get at me. I want to go to sleep 
 as soon as this thing's over and I'd like to stay 
 asleep forever." 
 
 " You're all wrong, but of course as a guest 
 in my house you'll be protected from every- 
 thing that is reasonably or unreasonably dis- 
 agreeable to you. But really, Boyd, the people 
 who are sure to call to-night " 
 
 " Yes, I know. They will call to offer con- 
 gratulations which are in fact commiserations 
 and condolences. I don't care to attend my 
 own funeral in the capacity of chief mourner, 
 just yet. I shouldn't mind the funeral, with 
 myself for the corpse, but I'm not prepared to 
 play the part of chief mourner." 
 
 " You're morbid, Boyd." 
 
 " Perhaps so, but I'm going to become 
 healthy again. Now listen. I'm going off into 
 the mountains to match my wits with those 
 of the wiliest trout, the shyest deer, the most 
 experienced wild turkey gobblers, and now and 
 
AFTER THE STORM 123 
 
 then perhaps to try conclusions with a sly old 
 bear. By the time I return to civilization, I'll 
 have decided upon my career. I'm going to do 
 something I don't know what. But by that 
 time I'll know." 
 
 " Good ! That's the way to look at things. 
 After all, the strain your stoicism has put upon 
 you hasn't robbed you of your robust manhood, 
 and that is what I feared." 
 
 " My dear Jack, I couldn't lose that and go 
 on living. It is only that I must have a little 
 time in which to pull myself together and see 
 what I can do. If your mission to the Rocky 
 Mountains proves that those fellows out there 
 are right, and that a great wealth is ready to 
 my hand, I may turn philanthropist, or I may 
 enter upon great business undertakings which 
 by their employment of multitudes of men at 
 good wages are perhaps the most philanthropic 
 of all endeavors. I don't know. I can't think 
 till I sleep and rest. At any rate while I am 
 recovering tone up in the high mountains of 
 the Blue Ridge, you will find out what mone- 
 tary tools I have to work with. Theology 
 teaches us that the primal curse was a con- 
 
i2 4 WESTOVER OF W ANAL AH 
 
 demnation to work. It was the primal bless- 
 ing instead. That's an aside. I have good 
 friends up in the mountains, chief among 
 whom is Judy Peters." 
 
 " The Queen of the mountains ? I've heard 
 of her. She's an erratic political factor with 
 whom every candidate must reckon, I'm 
 told." 
 
 " She's all that. She controls the mountain 
 vote in her district as absolutely as the Super- 
 intendent of the Penitentiary was to have con- 
 trolled me " 
 
 " Now, my dear Boyd, I beg you to put 
 aside that sort of brooding. It's morbid, it's 
 hurtful to your character, it's " 
 
 " Yes, I know. But I'm not pardoned yet, 
 you know, and naturally never mind. I 
 was speaking of Judy. She doesn't abuse her 
 political power. In many elections she doesn't 
 use it at all. She says to her subjects : ' I ain't 
 choosed 'twixt them two candidates. Choose 
 for yourselves.' But when she does choose 
 and intimates her choice the men of the moun- 
 tain all vote her way, and their vote makes an 
 end of all uncertainty as to the result of that 
 
AFTER THE STORM 125 
 
 election. But it isn't only in politics that she 
 rules. A Baptist preacher went up that way 
 once and became pastor of a church. For a 
 while he ' cut a wide swath,' as Judy said. 
 But he made the mistake of offending her 
 majesty by some indiscreet criticism of her. 
 She manifested no displeasure, but on the 
 next Sunday and the next he found a meeting 
 house full of empty benches to preach to. 
 Then he quit, as Judy afterwards explained, 
 ' because his usefulness was at its end.' It's 
 the same way with everything else. Ordinarily 
 she does not interfere, but when she does her 
 interference is instantly effective. It's a com- 
 mon saying up there that ' ef you want to 
 stay in the mountings comfortable like, you 
 don't want to git yourself into Judy Peters's 
 bad books.' " 
 
 " On what does her extraordinary influence 
 rest?" 
 
 " It would be hard to say. Partly I should 
 say upon her extraordinary sagacity, especially 
 in her judgment of men and her penetration 
 of their motives. My father used to say she 
 had second sight of the Scottish sort. It is 
 
126 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 certain that no man ever deceives her for long, 
 no false pretense ever endures her scrutiny, 
 and she never falters in her judgments. She 
 is as relentless as Fate itself and as merciless 
 in her dealings with what she adjudges to be 
 wrong. As she doesn't know what fear means, 
 she is equally resolute in her active support of 
 all causes that enlist her sympathy. She is 
 ignorant, as we reckon such things, but her 
 sagacity is well nigh supernatural, and she 
 keeps herself informed on all matters that in- 
 terest her, with an accuracy that a detective 
 bureau might envy. She is kindly, but not 
 courteous. She hates shams with an elemental 
 intensity. If you are a guest in her house she 
 fulfils every obligation of hospitality, but she 
 tells you no lies either in word or deed. She 
 will lay herself out to serve you with sublime 
 fried chicken and glorified waffles, but if she 
 catches you in a falsehood she'll tell you you 
 are a liar even while she presses the apple 
 butter or the maple syrup upon your accept- 
 ance. In brief, Judy Peters is altogether a 
 natural human being, whose elemental pas- 
 sions have never been curbed by convention, 
 
AFTER THE STORM 127 
 
 whose courage is of the kind that never shrinks 
 from the recognition of truth or from its telling 
 in plain words. If she likes you she will say 
 so. If she dislikes you she will tell you the 
 fact in equally plain words. If she is in doubt 
 about you, she will tell you she ' ain't choosed 
 yit ' as to you. That's Judy. Still my descrip- 
 tion utterly lacks something, I don't know 
 what personality perhaps. You must know 
 Judy personally if you would understand her. 
 Her malignity, in cases that seem to her to 
 call for it, is well nigh beyond conception in 
 its devilish ingenuity and persistence; her loy- 
 alty, on the other hand, stops at nothing that 
 may serve its fortunate beneficiary. She was 
 my father's friend, in her odd way, and she is 
 mine. My father once rendered her a service ; 
 I don't know what it was, and she won't tell 
 me. He always said it was a trifle of no conse- 
 quence ; she always answers my inquiries about 
 it by saying: 
 
 'Tain't none o' your business, Boyd, what 
 he done for me, but ef I could 'a' turned these 
 here mountings upside down an' he'd 'a' give 
 the word as how he wanted it done, over the 
 
128 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 mountings would 'a' gone, you kin bet your 
 bottom dollar on that proposition.' 
 
 " She is my friend on my father's account 
 and nothing can change that. If I should try 
 to deceive her she'd denounce me to my face 
 as a liar, but she'd make the mountains too hot 
 to hold anybody else who should suggest such 
 a thing, and she'd go on doing her mightiest 
 in my interest, in spite of my fault. In her 
 way she is a wholesome sort of person for me 
 to meet just now, and I'm going to spend a 
 few days with her, just for the bracing up 
 she'll give me. After that I'll go on up into 
 the high mountains." 
 
 So ended the dinner and the conversation. 
 Next morning Westover set out for Wanalah, 
 where he intended to spend a few days giving 
 necessary directions and equipping himself with 
 supplies for his sojourn in the mountains. 
 These consisted of books, mainly, with a bag 
 of corn meal, a ham or two, a few sides of 
 bacon, guns, ammunition, fishing tackle and 
 rough clothing, all of which were loaded into 
 an ox cart, which a negro boy was to drive in 
 leisurely fashion to Judy Peters's. Beyond 
 
AFTER THE STORM 129 
 
 that, in the climb up the mountainside, oxen 
 would be of less use than bother, and West- 
 over depended upon the long legs and strong 
 arms of mountaineers to manage the further 
 transportation. 
 
XIII 
 
 TAKES THE HELM 
 
 IT would have been a dangerous thing for 
 any man to accuse Colonel Conway of 
 cowardice. Personal courage was his in 
 full measure. Three times during the Mexi- 
 can war he had been promoted rising from 
 lieutenant to colonel and each time in spe- 
 cial recognition of " conspicuous gallantry in 
 action." He was afraid of no man and no 
 company of men. He did and dared through- 
 out his life with absolute disregard of dan- 
 ger. 
 
 But Colonel Conway was mightily afraid of 
 his sister Betsy, as his daughter had said. 
 Why, he could not have told, but the fact re- 
 mained that he was afraid of that elderly little 
 woman, encased as she was in an armor of 
 conventionalities, gentle but resolute, and mer- 
 130 
 
"AUNT BETSY" 131 
 
 cilessly insistent upon what she decreed to be 
 " proper " conduct. 
 
 When the negro boy who daily brought the 
 letter bag from the post office to The Oaks 
 reported that Mr. Boyd Westover had come up 
 from Richmond and was to stay only for a 
 day or two at Wanalah, Colonel Conway 
 promptly announced his purpose to ride over 
 and congratulate him. The family were at 
 the breakfast table at the time and the Colonel 
 observed that his daughter paled at the men- 
 tion of his purpose, though she said nothing 
 in reply to his declaration. His sister, " Aunt 
 Betsy," also said nothing. It was her habit to 
 say nothing till the time was ripe. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast Margaret 
 sought speech with her father. 
 
 " You are right, father, and what you pur- 
 pose is the part of an honorable man. You 
 ought to go to Boyd and take his hand, and 
 make him feel that men of your kind and his 
 kind understand. But " She paused un- 
 certainly. 
 
 " ' But ' what, daughter? " asked the Colo- 
 nel, eagerly scanning her face. 
 
i 3 2 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Nothing. I was only going to say that 
 perhaps it will be just as well not to mention 
 me unless he does so first." 
 
 There was that in her hesitating utterance 
 which awakened the Colonel's attention and 
 curiosity. 
 
 " But why not, Margaret? " he questioned. 
 " Surely it is about you he will be most eager 
 to hear." 
 
 " If so he will ask. If he doesn't, I beg of 
 you " 
 
 " Why, surely you've heard from him fre- 
 quently during this trouble and you've writ- 
 ten to him?" 
 
 " I've written to him, yes." 
 
 " And he has written to you, of course? " 
 
 The girl stood silent, while she plucked 
 honeysuckles from the vines that shrouded the 
 porch in which they stood, and nervously 
 pulled them to pieces. 
 
 " Answer me, child," the Colonel said in a 
 tone of command. " Hasn't Boyd Westover 
 written to you during all this trouble ? " 
 
 " I have received no letter from him," she 
 answered hesitatingly. 
 
"AUNT BETSY' 1 133 
 
 " Do you mean that he hasn't written to you 
 of his arrest, trial and all the rest of it, of his 
 vindication and " 
 
 " I have had no letter from him," she re- 
 peated. 
 
 " Hasn't he even offered you a release from 
 your engagement ? " 
 
 " I have had no letter from him," she said 
 again, but this time she lost her self control 
 and blurted out the thought that had troubled 
 her for many days. 
 
 " Oh Father," she said, seizing his arm as 
 if to detain him, " there has been some cruel 
 mistake, some miscarriage, something, I don't 
 know what. I only know that Boyd Westover 
 is a gentleman and would never have neglected 
 such a duty." 
 
 " As he has neglected it, he is unworthy 
 of a gentleman's recognition, Margaret. I 
 shall not go near him." 
 
 " You are judging him unheard," she 
 promptly and passionately answered ; " and oh, 
 Father, that isn't like you, because it is un- 
 worthy, and nothing unworthy or unjust is 
 like you. I beg of you, give him a chance. 
 
134 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 You need do nothing but make a call. The 
 explanation will follow if there is an ex- 
 planation. If there isn't well, we shall 
 know." 
 
 " I'll go, daughter, of course. It is my duty. 
 But I'll force the explanation. I have a right 
 to ask him why, being engaged to marry my 
 daughter, he has sent her no release, in view of 
 the circumstances. That will bring out all 
 there is to say on the subject." 
 
 At that point in their conversation the father 
 and daughter were interrupted by the advent 
 of " Aunt Betsy," who passed from the house 
 into the porch quite casually, and said to Mar- 
 garet : 
 
 " When you have leisure, dear, you'd better 
 see Janet. She has come to say that Diana is 
 much worse this morning and that the doctor, 
 who was in a hurry, left some important writ- 
 ten directions out at the quarters." 
 
 Quick to respond to duty, especially where 
 the sick of the plantation were concerned, Mar- 
 garet was in the saddle a minute later and gal- 
 loping toward the " quarters," as the negro 
 village was called in plantation nomenclature. 
 
"AUNT BETSY" 135 
 
 No sooner had her sorrel palfry's white tail 
 flashed its signal of departure through the 
 outer grove, than " Aunt Betsy " turned to her 
 brother, saying: 
 
 " Of course you forgot yourself, brother, 
 when you impulsively declared your purpose 
 to visit Mr. Boyd Westover to-day. The one 
 serious fault in your nature is impulsiveness. 
 You are too chivalric, too trusting, too confi- 
 dent of others, too apt to think of them as men 
 like yourself." 
 
 " What is it you want to say, Betsy? " asked 
 the Colonel as he sank limply into one of the 
 porch chairs. 
 
 " Only that upon reflection you must see 
 that it won't do for you to call upon Mr. 
 Westover." 
 
 "But why not?" 
 
 " There are a dozen reasons. He's a man 
 under a cloud you know. He has been regu- 
 larly convicted of a crime, and sentenced for 
 it, and " 
 
 " But he has been fully vindicated and par- 
 doned," interrupted the Colonel. 
 
 " Yes, of course. Fully vindicated by the 
 
136 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 confession of a demented man who may or 
 may not know what he is saying. It may be 
 well, anything may be, you know, and opin- 
 ions in this community are likely to be divided 
 as to the matter of Mr. Boyd Westover's guilt. 
 So long as that remains unsettled the Master 
 of The Oaks cannot afford to take sides by 
 visiting Wanalah." 
 
 " You mean that I, Colonel Robert Conway, 
 of The Oaks, am not free to do as I damn 
 please just because a lot of pestilent old gos- 
 sips think to say me nay ? " 
 
 " You misunderstand me, Robert, and you 
 grieve me to the heart by the violence of your 
 language." 
 
 " Did I swear? If so I beg pardon, but 
 sometimes oaths will slip out. It's a bad habit 
 I acquired in the army." 
 
 " You utterly fail to understand me," said 
 " Aunt Betsy." " I am not concerned about 
 myself or you, or the family name, though that 
 is dearer to me than all else in the world. I'm 
 concerned for Margaret. You are a man, of 
 course, but even a man ought to see that for 
 Margaret's father to visit Westover of Wana- 
 
"AUNT BETSY' 1 137 
 
 lah, under existing circumstances, would be 
 everywhere interpreted as throwing Margaret 
 at his head, challenging him to fulfil his en- 
 gagement with her. In brief it would be al- 
 most the equivalent of that vulgar impossibility 
 in Virginia, a breach of promise suit." 
 
 " Aunt Betsy " saw in Colonel Conway's 
 face that she had carried her point, and she 
 did not imperil the result by further speech. 
 She suddenly applied her handkerchief to her 
 eyes instead, and hastily retreated to her room, 
 confident that on that day at least her brother 
 would not ride over to Wanalah. 
 
XIV 
 
 WESTOVER AT WANALAH 
 
 BUT if Colonel Conway did not visit 
 Westover during his brief stay at Wa- 
 nalah, some others did. In the main 
 they were elderly men of his own social class, 
 whose purpose was sincere to express their 
 pleasure in his escape from an embarrassing 
 perplexity. But their very sincerity proved to 
 be the undoing of their purpose. They hardly 
 knew how to approach the subject of his 
 trouble without offence and yet it seemed nec- 
 essary to speak of it. It isn't easy to tell a 
 man of high place in the world that you are 
 pleased with his accidental escape from a term 
 of penal servitude in the penitentiary. As a 
 result of this embarrassment the congratula- 
 tions of these gentlemen, which were meant to 
 be cordial, seemed to Westover to be coldly 
 138 
 
WESTOVER AT W ANAL AH 139 
 
 commiserative instead. Meant to be com- 
 radely, they seemed to him condescending 1 
 almost to the point of offensiveness. To make 
 matters worse, Westover's visitors were as 
 sorely embarrassed as he was, and by way 
 of escape, every one of them, upon one pre- 
 text or another, declined his invitation to 
 stay to dinner which, under ordinary circum- 
 stances, every one of them would have ac- 
 cepted quite as a matter of course. To him 
 this suggested avoidance of intimacy. 
 
 Perhaps all this was emphasized to his mind 
 by his experience with the earliest of his visit- 
 ors on that day. This was William Wilber- 
 force Webb, a young lawyer who as repre- 
 sentative of the county in the House of Dele- 
 gates the legislature of Virginia regarded 
 himself as " a rising young statesman, in the 
 direct line of promotion." 
 
 Mr. Webb was not a man in Westover's 
 class, and in visiting Wanalah at all he was 
 guilty of something approaching presumption, 
 under the rules of the social regime of that 
 time and country. Still, as the representative 
 of the county in the legislature, he had a right 
 
i 4 o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 perhaps to regard himself as privileged to that 
 extent. 
 
 However that might be, Westover welcomed 
 him cordially as the first of his neighbors to 
 call. He extended the customary hospitalities 
 of the house, which the other accepted. Then 
 the two fell into conversation upon general 
 topics, drifting into more personal themes by 
 natural processes. Lacking the tact that comes 
 of good breeding, the voluble and self appreci- 
 ative lawyer presently sought to exalt his own 
 condescension in promptly calling upon West- 
 over. 
 
 " You see I have no hidebound prejudices, 
 Westover, and in my position, as the represent- 
 ative of the people, the promptitude of my visit 
 may encourage others to recognize you, in 
 spite of what has happened." 
 
 Pale to the lips with passion, Westover rose 
 as the man spoke, moved to the edge of the 
 porch in which they had been sitting, and, call- 
 ing to a negro boy, said : 
 
 " Bring this gentleman's horse to the door at 
 once; do you hear? He has imperative busi- 
 ness elsewhere than at Wanalah." 
 
WESTOVER AT WANALAH 141 
 
 There was no mistaking the meaning of this, 
 and Webb was quick to comprehend it. Ris- 
 ing angrily he asked : 
 
 " What do you mean, sir? " 
 
 ' You heard my instruction to the boy," an- 
 swered Westover in an even, unexcited voice. 
 " You can infer my meaning from that. By 
 the way, the boy has obeyed promptly and your 
 horse is waiting for you." 
 
 The man was unaccustomed to such deliber- 
 ation and self control in the speech of an angry 
 person, but he sought to imitate it as he had 
 sought before to copy the manners of those 
 whose social position he envied. He sup- 
 pressed the impulse of intemperate speech 
 and, assuming the dignity that he thought" 
 belonged to him in right of his " position," 
 said: 
 
 " You will hear from me, promptly, Mr. 
 Westover." 
 
 " At your pleasure, sir," answered West- 
 over. " I shall remain at Wanalah for four 
 days, after to-day. After that I shall be absent 
 for a time, but should your message to me be 
 delayed so long, which I can hardly conceive 
 
i 4 2 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 to be possible, you can communicate with me 
 later through my overseer, with whom I shall 
 leave an address to be used only in emergencies. 
 Should you leave any message with him he 
 will have instructions to forward it to me by 
 a special courier who will lose no time in its 
 delivery." 
 
 This was a crowning affront to a man of 
 Webb's extraction, and perhaps Westover 
 meant it to be such. The overseer class in 
 Virginia was the most inferior of all, and the 
 very suggestion of one gentleman that he 
 would communicate with another through his 
 overseer would have implied insult. If West- 
 over had been speaking to one whom he re- 
 garded as an equal he would have said: 
 
 " My address for a time will be uncertain, 
 but my overseer will have it and I'll instruct 
 him to keep my lawyer informed of it from 
 time to time." 
 
 To make matters worse, it was the bitterest 
 drop of gall in Webb's cup that he was him- 
 self descended from a race of overseers. His 
 father, indeed, had never served in that capac- 
 ity, for the reason that the grandfather had left 
 
WESTOVER AT WANALAH 143 
 
 him enough money to buy a little plantation 
 of his own and struggle for recognition as a 
 member of the planter class. But Webb had 
 learned by experience that there was vitality 
 in the Virginian dogma that " it takes three 
 generations to make a gentleman." 
 
 The suggestion, therefore, that he might, 
 if necessary, communicate with Westover 
 through the Wanalah overseer, was peculiarly 
 offensive to Webb. Whether Westover had 
 intended it to be so or not, there is no means 
 of finding out. He was angry enough to in- 
 tend anything. 
 
 But this encounter spoiled Westover's ca- 
 pacity to enjoy the visits of his later coming 
 friends. It set his sensitiveness on edge, as 
 it were, and prompted his mind to misinter- 
 pretation, so that when he was left to dine 
 alone at Wanalah that day the very spacious- 
 ness of the dining room seemed to mock his 
 solitude, while the polished furniture that had 
 witnessed so much of joyous festivity in that 
 great banquet hall seemed to have put on 
 mourning for its master. 
 
 About sunset, however, relief came to West- 
 
i 4 4 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 over's spirit in the person of Dr. Carley Farns- 
 worth. His real name was Don Carlos Farns- 
 worth, and he was a physician, but to West- 
 over as to every other friend he had ever had, 
 he was known as " Carley." Carley was in 
 many ways peculiar. He was cynical at times 
 and always disposed to take a whimsical view 
 of things. His sense of humor was alert and 
 keen, though he never in his life made a joke 
 and very rarely laughed. His most whimsical 
 interpretations of events and situations were 
 delivered in solemn, philosophical fervor, and 
 with a seriousness that well nigh undid the 
 humor of them. 
 
 He arrived at Wanalah about sunset, and 
 greeted his old friend cordially, and quite as 
 if his visit had been an ordinary one with no 
 " circumstances " of any kind behind it. Car- 
 ley Farnsworth was a gentleman, that was all. 
 He had tact and nous, and above all a sympa- 
 thy so abounding that trespass upon another's 
 sensibilities was impossible to him. Even in 
 examining patients, it was said of him that he 
 asked all his questions in a way that made 
 them seem a matter of course. 
 
WESTOVER AT WANALAH 145 
 
 After the first greetings were over he said : 
 " I've been rather impatiently waiting for 
 your return to Wanalah, Boyd, because I've 
 been wanting to floor you with half a dozen 
 authorities that agree with me as to the con- 
 struction of ut with the subjunctive in that 
 passage we came so near fighting about. I've 
 devoted all my time lately to the task of ac- 
 cumulating ammunition and after supper I'm 
 going to blow you clear out of the arena. But 
 supper first, of course. I'm a hungry hygienist 
 and I know the flavor of the Wanalah hams. 
 By the way, you and I are alone; why 
 shouldn't we be dissolute? If you'll tell your 
 cook to serve us some roasted black-eyed peas, 
 such as you and I ate here a year ago, 
 roasted in the pod you know, and served with 
 the hot ashes on them, I'll promise to be 
 happy for a whole year to come. Of course 
 there'll be broiled tomatoes as an adjunct to 
 the cold ham, and paper thin wafer biscuit to 
 keep our digestions in order, and after supper 
 we'll discuss f ut with the subjunctive ' as far 
 into the night as you please." 
 
 6 Thank you," said Westover, smiling for 
 
146 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 the first time that day. " I'm ready for the 
 contest, though really I don't think either of 
 us is Latin scholar enough to be entitled to 
 ' views ' on the subject." 
 
 " There you annoyingly agree with the au- 
 thorities," answered Dr. Farnsworth. " You 
 see I wrote to Professor Anthon on the sub- 
 ject, submitting my contentions, and he re- 
 plied most courteously, suggesting that if I 
 would supplement my obviously rudimentary 
 Latin studies with a more considerable read- 
 ing of Latin texts, he mentioned fifteen 
 hundred or so that he thought I might profit- 
 ably run through in my leisure moments, 
 I would gain some slight insight into the 
 grammatical problem I had undertaken to 
 settle out of my own inner consciousness and 
 Bullion's Latin Grammar. The thing put me 
 on my mettle, so I wrote to our own Univer- 
 sity professor, Dr. Gessner Harrison. What 
 do you think? He replied: ' My dear Dr. 
 Farnsworth: You're a sublimated idiot and 
 a good many different kinds of a donkey.' 
 Those weren't his exact words, you under- 
 stand, but the paraphrase fairly interprets the 
 
WESTOVER AT WANALAH 147 
 
 spirit of his reply. However, we'll leave all 
 that till after supper." 
 
 So he chattered on, after his habit, and he 
 succeeded not only in preventing talk of de- 
 pressing things, but in amusing his host so far 
 as to awaken something like jollity in him. 
 
 But an occurrence during supper threatened 
 to spoil all. A missive arrived from Webb, 
 borne not by a friend commissioned to " act 
 for him," but by a negro servant. 
 
 Westover tore the envelope open and read 
 the few lines written upon the sheet within. 
 They ran as follows: 
 
 " Mr. Webb intimated to Mr. Westover to- 
 day that he would presently send him a hostile 
 note. Upon reflection Mr. Webb has decided 
 that he cannot afford to send anything of the 
 kind. It seems to him and to such friends as 
 he has had time to consult that recent events 
 affecting Mr. Westover's status in society - 
 events which need not be specified in detail 
 have rendered it unnecessary and unbecoming 
 for any gentleman to pay attention to anything 
 that Mr. Westover may say or do." 
 
 Having read the insolent message with no 
 
i 4 8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 sign of anger that would have been observed 
 by anybody, Westover turned to his dining 
 room servant and said, quite indifferently: 
 
 " Send the boy who brought that note to me. 
 I wish to speak to him." 
 
 When the negro messenger entered, West- 
 over asked : 
 
 " Do you belong to Mr. Webb? " 
 
 " No, sir. Laws a Massy, Mas' Boyd, he 
 don't own no folks er nothin' else. He jes' 
 hires me to fetch and carry for him some- 
 times." 
 
 " I thought so. How much did he pay you 
 to bring this note to me? " 
 
 " Eighteen pence, sir." 
 
 " Well, now I want you to carry it back to 
 him and I'll give you two and threepence for 
 the service. I'll make it half a dollar, if you'll 
 tell him just what I say." 
 
 In old Virginia " eighteen pence " meant a 
 quarter of a dollar, and " two and threepence " 
 meant thirty-seven and a half cents, the shill- 
 ing then being sixteen and two-thirds cents, 
 as the result of some ancient debasement of 
 coin in England. 
 
WESTOVER AT WANALAH 149 
 
 " Suttenly, sir. Ef what you wants me to 
 say is so superfluous like as to make him mad, 
 I reckon I kin run faster'n he kin." 
 
 !< Very well then. I want you to hand him 
 back his letter and say: 
 
 " ' Mas' Boyd Westover says he hasn't time 
 just now to ride seven miles to the Court House 
 to pull your nose or slap your jaws, but he'll 
 attend to the matter at the first convenient op- 
 portunity.' Can you say that?" 
 
 " No," interrupted Carley Farnsworth. 
 " Why should you want him to ? It wouldn't 
 add a cubit to the stature of your dignity and 
 it wouldn't be any worse affront to Webb than 
 you can put upon him by sending his note back 
 without a word. He would rejoice in a quar- 
 rel with you a safe one at arm's length I 
 mean. It would exalt him in the eyes of 
 others, and as he's a member of the legislature 
 sure of his reelection, you can't challenge him 
 or he you. You may hold any view you please 
 as to f ut ' with the subjunctive, but on this 
 matter you simply mustn't obey the impulses of 
 temporary anger. Send the letter back with- 
 out a word, and to-morrow you'll thank me 
 
1 50 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 for bringing philosophy and common sense to 
 the restraint of an impulse that has its root in 
 the dormant but still potential savagery of your 
 nature." 
 
 Westover laughed at the solemn ponderous- 
 ness of his friend's utterance, and the laughter 
 was good for him. 
 
 " You're right, of course," he said. " Here, 
 Sam, just take this letter back to Mr. Webb 
 and tell him I sent no message of any kind. 
 And here's your half dollar." 
 
 Then, as the negro left the room the young 
 man said: 
 
 " After all, my time hasn't come yet, and 
 meanwhile I must preserve my dignity. You 
 see, Carley, I am still Westover of Wanalah, 
 and I mean to prove it to all men by doing 
 things. I don't know yet what things they 
 are to be, but they must be worthy of the name 
 I bear. I'm going off to rest and think for 
 a while, and when I come back to Wanalah 
 Jack Towns will tell me what tools I have to 
 work with. Meanwhile brawling with an un- 
 derbred fellow like Webb would be most un- 
 becoming." 
 
WESTOVER AT WANALAH 151 
 
 " I'm glad to see that you have lucid inter- 
 vals, Boyd," answered his friend. " I reckon 
 we won't bother with Latin Grammar to-night. 
 Let's play backgammon instead. But in the 
 meantime let me give you a professional opin- 
 ion and some professional advice. You are 
 neurasthenic and you've got to get over it. 
 Your mountain trip will be good for you, but 
 it would be better still if you could get up a 
 fight of some sort. I'll try to stir up something 
 of the kind for you, when you get back. Any- 
 how, you've got to quit thinking about your- 
 self. Let me assure you that there are thou- 
 sands of more interesting topics to think 
 about. There's lettuce, for example, and 
 there is music, to say nothing of onions and 
 roe herrings and the Missouri Compromise, 
 and the relations of agriculture to national 
 wealth, and 'possum hunting, and black-eyed 
 peas and the Dred Scott decision and the 
 morality of flipping quarters at crack loo. 
 Oh, here's the backgammon board. Let's get 
 to work." 
 
XV 
 
 UP AT JUDY/S 
 
 ROBUST as he was, Boyd Westover felt 
 himself somewhat weary and footsore 
 when he put one hand on the top rail 
 of Judy Peters' s gateless fence and sprang 
 over it to greet his hostess. 
 
 She was waiting for him of course. She had 
 caught sight of him far down the mountain, 
 at one of the many turns of the road which 
 were conveniently visible from her door or her 
 other points of observation. It was not Judy's 
 habit to be surprised by any arrival. She had 
 had no warning of Westover's intended visit, 
 but she was keen of vision, and had had no 
 difficulty in recognizing the wayfarer four 
 miles away, if measured by the tortuosities of 
 the road, and perhaps a mile away as the crow 
 flies. 
 
 That had been two or three hours before the 
 152 
 
UP AT JUDY'S 153 
 
 time of his actual arrival, but Judy had not 
 wondered at the delay. She knew Boyd's ways 
 and she had made out that he had fishing tackle 
 with him. 
 
 " Sapphiry," she had asked her daughter, 
 " how many chickens has you got picked an' 
 fixed in the spring house." 
 
 " Four," answered Sapphira. " Why, 
 Mammy? " 
 
 " Never you mind why." Then relenting 
 toward the girl's curiosity she said : 
 
 " Boyd Westover's a comin', an' he'll be 
 mighty hungry fer supper. He's afoot an' 
 it's more'n twenty mile from his place here. 
 Besides that he's got four big branches to fish 
 afore he gits here an' that'll take a heap o' 
 walkin' to say nothin' o' the len'th o' the road. 
 So you jes' go on with your ironin' till I tell 
 you to set about gittin' supper." 
 
 " May be he won't fish the branches," sug- 
 gested the girl. 
 
 " Yes, an' may be the moon'll rise in the 
 west to-night an' run wrong way 'crost the 
 firmament. It's the same sort of a may be, 
 an* that sort never happens." 
 
154 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " What you reckon he's a comin' fer, 
 Mammy?" asked Sapphira as she held up a 
 stiffly starched garment to inspect her work. 
 
 " Dunno, an' it don't make no difference 
 neither, as the feller says. Boyd Westover's 
 father always found a welcome a waitin' at the 
 fence when he come to Judy Peters's house, 
 an' I's got the same sort o' welcome a holdin' 
 out both han's for Boyd when he comes." 
 Then by way of a more direct though conjec- 
 tural answer to her daughter's question she 
 added : 
 
 " Reckon he wants to git away from them 
 stuckups down his way. I hear they's a been 
 a botherin' of him o' late. Coffey, William, 
 son to Jesse, was a tellin' me all about 
 it." 
 
 The form " Coffey, William, son to Jesse," 
 was one in familiar use in the mountains as a 
 means of identifying one among a multitude 
 of men bearing the same name. There were 
 several families whose membership was so all 
 pervasive of that region that some such method 
 of identification on the polling lists and else- 
 where was a necessity, and the polling list 
 
UP AT JUDY'S 155 
 
 nomenclature had been very generally adopted 
 into ordinary use. 
 
 " What was 't all 'bout, Mammy? " 
 
 " I dunno, only, whatever 'twas, another 
 feller done it." 
 
 With that lucid explanation Judy set her 
 flatiron on a trivet in front of the fire and 
 went to one of her points of vantage to scan 
 the road below. On her return she took Sap- 
 phira's flatiron from her hand, saying : 
 
 " I'll finish up the ironin'. They ain't but 
 three or four pieces. You run over to the fur- 
 dest 'tater patch an' gravel a pan o' potaters. 
 Git a plenty of 'em, kase they's mighty good 
 with fish." 
 
 To " gravel " potatoes is to dig into the 
 " hill " in which the vines grow, from its side 
 remove the larger potatoes from the rootlets, 
 close up the opening and leave the vines to 
 bring the remaining tubers to perfection. It 
 is a process that yields new potatoes before 
 their time and without destroying the growths. 
 The potatoes secured in that way are very 
 small, very unwholesome, but altogether deli- 
 cious. 
 
156 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " May be he didn't git no fish," said Sap- 
 phira doubtingly. 
 
 " Well, you jes' look after the potater may- 
 bes. That's your job. The fish'll git here all 
 right kase I seen him a cleanin' of 'em on the 
 rocks down 'long Samson's branch. He won't 
 fish no more this evenin' an' he'll be here in 
 less 'n an hour. So mosey along an' git them 
 potaters. Soon's I git through with this petti- 
 coat, I'll sif some meal fer batter bread, git 
 out a crock o' apple butter, an' cut up some 
 tomatuses. Boyd Westover's hungry an' he's 
 a goin' to have a good supper ef Judy Peters 
 knows her business, an' she thinks she do.' 5 
 
 When Boyd nimbly swung himself over the 
 fence, all preliminary preparations for the eve- 
 ning meal were completely made, and Judy 
 stood ready to welcome him. In his honor 
 she had changed the limp, hot weather gown 
 that had served her during her ironing, for 
 a stiffly starched calico in the violently high 
 colors of which her barbaric soul mightily 
 rejoiced. 
 
 For greeting Judy said : 
 
 " You's come up to shake off the stuck-ups. 
 
UP AT JUDY'S 157 
 
 Boyd, an' git among natural folks I s'pose. 
 Anyhow you're welcome. Them's beauties," 
 looking into Boyd's fish basket, " an' they's a 
 flat-back an' two catfish among 'em. I'd 
 ruther eat a catfish or a flat-back any time 
 than a trout. Trout's sort o' stuck up fish, 
 even ef they does live up here in the mountings. 
 But I ain't forgot how to make trout good 
 with the sauce your pappy learnt me how to 
 make sauce All on Days he called it, an' 
 I'll make you some fer supper." 
 
 Presumably Judy meant sauce Hollandaise. 
 At any rate the sauce she served with the trout 
 that night was a glorified example of the dress- 
 ing that chefs call by that name, improved by 
 the gastronomic genius of the late Westover 
 of Wanalah, and made by Judy Peters, whose 
 instinct was infallible in the manufacture of 
 things delectable to the palate. 
 
 Suddenly Judy observed something in Boyd 
 Westover's face, a look of utter weariness 
 that she was sagacious enough to interpret 
 aright, though she made no mention of her 
 interpretation. 
 
 " He's got things on his mind," she re- 
 
158 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 fleeted ; " an' they's more tiresome like than 
 all the trarnpin' a feller can do. His legs is 
 good fer twice the walkin' he's done to-day. 
 Never mind. We'll fix that up afore we're 
 through." 
 
 Then turning to Westover she said : 
 " You is awful tired, Boyd, even ef you did 
 clear the fence like a yearlin' colt. Now you's 
 a goin' to rest. Never min' tellin' me nothin' 
 'bout what you're here for nor none o' the rest 
 of it. You's a-goin' to have a nap. It'll be 
 a hour or may be two hour afore supper's 
 ready, 'cause I's got that sauce All on Days to 
 make, an' it's a slow job. It's awful hot this 
 evenin' " Judy meant afternoon, but like the 
 more aristocratic Virginians she called every- 
 thing between noon and nightfall " evening " 
 and everything after dusk " night," as in very 
 fact it was. 
 
 " It's awful hot this evenin', but they's a 
 good breeze a blowin' through the passage, an' 
 they's a broad sofy there, three foot wide an* 
 seven foot long, an' there you's a goin' to 
 spen' the time twix this an' supper. They's 
 pillers a plenty, an' you ain't got nothin' to do 
 
UP AT JUDY'S 159 
 
 only to lay down an' git a good rest. Come 
 on in." 
 
 Five minutes later Boyd Westover was com- 
 fortably asleep, with the assurance that there 
 were no shams or false pretenses in the hospi- 
 tality he was enjoying, and it was more than 
 two hours later before Judy permitted him to 
 be waked. She was accustomed to dominate 
 everything in her own household, suppers in- 
 cluded, and this particular supper she had 
 " sot back " by a full hour in order that her 
 guest might have his nap out. Even then she 
 forbade a rude awakening. She simply passed 
 two or three times through the broad passage- 
 way between the two log houses that consti- 
 tuted her home, until the swish of her starched 
 calico skirts awakened him " drop by drop 
 like," as she explained to Sapphira and those 
 of her long-legged sons who had " turned up " 
 for supper in the maternal home. Those boys, 
 Webster, Henry Clay, Andrew Jackson and 
 Theonidas heaven only knows where Judy 
 got that name were always uncertain quan- 
 tities in the household. Each was a law unto 
 himself. They came and went at their own 
 
i6o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 free will, giving no account of themselves. 
 Home was home to them. They appeared 
 there, sure of a welcome, whenever it suited 
 their convenience to do so. Sometimes all four 
 would be there; sometimes not one of them 
 would appear for months at a time. In either 
 case no questions were asked and no accounts 
 given. The boys were strong of limb, alert, 
 industrious, independent. They made their 
 own living by doing any sort of work that fell 
 in their way, and they envied no man his lot 
 or his possessions. They were types of a ro- 
 bust citizenship of which the Trusts and the 
 Trades Unions conspiracies both in restraint 
 alike of trade and of liberty have left us 
 small trace in this modern world. 
 
 Their ages varied from thirteen to nineteen 
 years; their height from five feet ten to six 
 feet three; their muscularity and their sturdy 
 self reliance not at all. 
 
XVI 
 
 JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS 
 
 <s TV TOW come out here, Boyd," said 
 
 ^^ Judy when the supper was over. 
 
 " They's a full moon or purty nigh 
 
 onto it, an' it's a raisin', an' the weather's good 
 
 an' hot, good fer grow r in' corn, an' not bad 
 
 fer apples an' pertaters. You an' me is a goin' 
 
 to have a good long talk. Take that there 
 
 rockin' chair an' make yourself comfortable, 
 
 like, 'cause I want to hear all about it." 
 
 The rocking chairs sat upon a broad porch 
 or platform, for it had no roof over it, and the 
 rising moon flooded the place with light. 
 
 " Now tell me all about it," said Judy when 
 the two were seated. 
 
 It is to be said that Judy knew " all about 
 it " already, at least all about what had hap- 
 pened up to a very few days before. It was 
 161- 
 
 -- 
 
162 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 her habit to keep herself fully informed on all 
 subjects that interested her, and she was 
 mightily interested in everything that con- 
 cerned any Westover. 
 
 Her loyalty to the Westovers had its own 
 reasons for being. These she never explained. 
 She rarely explained anything personal to her- 
 self. But that loyalty was barbaric in its in- 
 tensity of devotion, savage in its vindictiveness 
 toward whatever and whomsoever antagonized 
 the Westovers, and recklessly relentless in its 
 manifestations. 
 
 As soon as Boyd Westover fell into difficul- 
 ties in Richmond, she sent one of her henchmen 
 there with instructions to employ a lawyer to 
 keep her informed. When Boyd returned to 
 Wanalah she sent Edgar Coffey to the county 
 seat to report happenings and conditions. She 
 said to him: 
 
 " Edgar, I has choosed you fer this job, be- 
 kase o' several pints in your character. You 
 is slick an' sly, an' you ain't got no principles 
 to stand in your way, an' you seems to be 
 stupid, so's nobody'll suspect you or keep silent 
 when you's about. You kin lie so natural 
 
"Now COMB OUT HERE, BoYD." Page 161. 
 
JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS 163 
 
 like that nobody but me'd ever suspect you was 
 a lyin' at all. What you's got to do is to go 
 down there to the Court House on some sort 
 o' made up business like, an' hang 'round an' 
 listen, an' find out how the stuck-ups is 
 a treatin' Boycl Westover. Then you come 
 back here an' tell me 'bout it. Ef them stuck- 
 ups treats him fa'r an' squa'r like, it'll be all 
 right. Ef they don't, I'll make some of 'em 
 wisht they hadn't never 'a' been borned." This 
 last utterance was addressed only to herself. 
 
 Edgar Coffey had returned on the evening 
 before Westover's arrival and his report had 
 included some account of Webb's boasting that 
 he had " declined to consider Boyd Westover 
 as a man entitled to the attention of a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " Now wait, Edgar," Judy said, when Cof- 
 fey reported this ; " don't let your loose tongue 
 git away with you. Did you hear him say 
 that hisself the durned little two-cent post- 
 age?" 
 
 " Yes, Judy, sure an' certain ; an' everybody 
 down that way's a laughin' in their sleeves 
 'bout it. They says, says they, f Why, ef Boyd 
 
1 64 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Westover was to git a real mad on him, that 
 feller wouldn't make a mouthful fer him.' ' 
 
 " No more would he," said Judy, addressing* 
 herself. 
 
 So Judy knew in advance the whole story 
 that she asked Westover to tell her; but she 
 wanted to hear his version of it and find out 
 his mood of mind concerning it, and so she 
 gave no sign of knowing anything. That was 
 Judy's way. 
 
 Just as the two comfortably seated them- 
 selves Theonidas the thirteen year old son 
 of the house emerged from within bearing 
 a tray on which were a stone jug, a vase-like 
 glass, containing honey in the comb, two tum- 
 blers and a little array of spoons. 
 
 " Now wait a minute, Boyd," said Judy as 
 she directed the placing of the tray on a table 
 that stood between her and Westover. " You's 
 got a lot o' durned temperance nonsense mixed 
 up with your good sense, but this is a 'cep- 
 tional occasion; I ain't yit had a chanst to 
 drink to the new * Westover of Wanalah,' nor 
 yit to congratulate you ; an' besides that, they 
 ain't no harm in a glass o' peach an' honey 
 
JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS 165 
 
 when I raised the honey an' made the peach 
 myself, an' specially when the peach is thirteen 
 year ole in the bar'l. So you an' me is a goin' 
 to have a glass o' peach an' honey together, 
 sich as folks don't often taste these days. 
 They was three bar'ls o' that there peach 
 brandy, when my husband, Marcellus, an' me 
 made it, thirteen year ago, an' that jug's got 
 the last drop that's left of it. An' the best of 
 it is they ain't never anybody but the best been 
 let to let it trickle down their throats. When 
 it were five year old I sold one bar'l of it to 
 Tom Griffin in Richmond, 'cause he never 
 would let anybody but the best have any of 
 it. When it were ten year old I give one bar'l 
 of it to your pappy, 'cause I jes' know'd what 
 sort o' folks he'd let drink it. You see the 
 peaches that year thirteen year ago was 
 extra superfine, an' I picked out the very best 
 of 'em for them three bar'ls o' brandy, an' they 
 ain't been no peach like it ever made in these 
 here mountings. So now you an' me's a goin' 
 to have a glass o' peach an' honey, an' sip it 
 slow like, while we talk, so's that we kin git 
 the taste in our throats an' all the way down. 
 
1 66 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 You see, Boyd, they's tricks in makin' peach 
 jes ? as they is in politics an' religion an' school 
 teachin' an' gittin' married. They wa'n't no 
 trick when I got married, mind. I don't mean 
 that. Marcellus Peters was as good a man as 
 these here mountings ever raised, an' now he's 
 been dead more'n a dozen years I ain't got no 
 complaint to make 'bout him. Only he hadn't 
 much * git there ' in him. It didn't make much 
 difference, 'cause I could ten' to that part o' 
 the business myself. But he did know how to 
 make peach an' apple brandy. You see, Boyd, 
 they's' tricks in makin' peach, as I was a sayin', 
 an' Marcellus he know'd all of 'em. I ain't 
 a sayin' he didn't work 'em off on folks as 
 didn't know nor care. He'd git a order fer 
 peach when he hadn't no peach, an' he'd fill 
 the order. He'd take ten pound or so o' dried 
 peaches an' set 'em to stew fer an hour or 
 so. Then he'd put 'em through the bung hole 
 of a bar'l o ? apple brandy, an' let 'em 'sociate 
 with the brandy like, fer three or four days, 
 rollin' the bar'l now an 1 then to shake it up, 
 like. Then he'd draw that brandy off into an- 
 other bar'l, an' it was fine old peach. Same 
 
JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS 167 
 
 with cherry brandy, or blackberry, an' the 
 stuck-ups didn't know the difference. But this 
 here peach is differenter. It was made of 
 peaches, good peaches, such as you'd smile to 
 eat, an' Tom Griffin was glad to pay me seven 
 dollars a gallon for the bar'l of it he got. I 
 reckon he'd pay twice that ef he could git an- 
 other bar'l of it now." 
 
 Judy Peters was not talking without a defi- 
 nite purpose. She never did that. Even when 
 her conversation rambled as it did on this 
 occasion, it rambled of set purpose and with 
 deliberate intent. This time her purpose was 
 to induce a like rambling impulse on Boyd 
 Westover's part, so that she might not only 
 hear from his lips the whole story of his tribu- 
 lations, but gather, by the wayside of his con- 
 versation as it were, a clear impression of his 
 present mood and attitude of mind, something 
 which could not be gained by direct questioning. 
 
 In all this the shrewdly wise old woman 
 succeeded, and when Boyd Westover bade her 
 good night as the clock struck twelve, she knew 
 all she wanted to know about him. After he 
 had gone to bed she lighted her pipe anew and 
 
i68 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 summed up her conclusions in the case of the 
 young man beneath her roof in reflections to 
 the following effect : 
 
 " He's a feelin' it more'n's good fer him. 
 
 " He's wrong in his mind or his liver or his 
 lights, an' the fust needfulness is to set 'em 
 right. 
 
 " He's a doin' the right thing in a goin' 
 off up into the high mountings. It'll straighten 
 out the liver an' lights an' I'll make Theonidas 
 go with him, jes' to take the rough off, an' to 
 keep him in company like. That'll be healthier 
 fer him. 
 
 " They's somethin' about a gal in the case, 
 but jes' naturally I couldn't git at that. Men 
 is sech fools 'bout women anyhow! A young 
 feller will pick one purty gal out'n a dozen, 
 all on 'em jes' as purty an' jes' as smart as she 
 is, an' ef she gives him the mitten he'll go 
 mournin' about, jes' as ef she was the onliest 
 tadpole in the puddle, while all the rest o' the 
 dozen purty gals is a standin' ready to make 
 as big a fool out'n him as ever she could 'a' 
 done. It's cur'ous but 'tain't to be helped no 
 way, I reckon. 
 
JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS 169 
 
 " Howsomever the thing to do is to git him 
 interested in something an' I kin manage that. 
 He'll git healthy like, up thar' in the high 
 mountings, an' by the time he comes back I'll 
 git somethin' ready fer him to do." 
 
 Boyd was already better in spirits when he 
 greeted the sun the next morning from the 
 top of a hill near Judy's place. The air of 
 the mountains had been good for him. Better 
 still had been Judy's cordiality and her natural- 
 ness. After all his depression had been rooted 
 in the artificialities of human association, and 
 in Judy Peters's company there was no such 
 artificiality. She had not hesitated to inter- 
 rupt his narrative of events at various points 
 to tell him that in this or that particular he had 
 been a " darned fool," or a " frosted potater 
 vine," or a " dod dasted idjit," or something 
 else of the sort that she thought helpful to her 
 endeavor to bring him back to a healthy mental 
 condition. 
 
 Her main reliance for his restoration to 
 normality, however, was in getting something 
 strenuous for him to do. " Hard work's the 
 calomel he needs, an' a good hard fight's his 
 
1 70 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 quinine. It'll cure his chills, an' I'll git it ready 
 fer him." 
 
 With that determination fixed in her mind, 
 Judy knocked the ashes out of her pipe, covered 
 up the kitchen fire, set some roe herrings to 
 soak, and went to bed. Sleep was to her 
 healthy soul a matter of course. 
 
XVII 
 
 JUDY INFORMS HERSELF AND MAKES PLANS 
 
 IT was well past midsummer when West- 
 over after a stay of three days went 
 from Judy Peters's place up into the 
 higher and more desolate parts of the moun- 
 tain region. He was accompanied by Theo- 
 nidas, whose instructions from his mother were 
 minute and explicit. 
 
 " B'ar in mind, Theonidas," she said to him 
 in an intimate conversation, " as how your 
 duty's to keep him busy with things outsiden' 
 hisself. He's got too many books 'long with 
 him, but they's good ef he don't git to readin' 
 of 'em by daylight. You's got to look out fer 
 that. Ef you find him a readin' an' a broodin' 
 by daylight, you jes' find out somethin' 'bout 
 a b'ar or a catamount hangin' round, an' git 
 him to lookin' fer that. An' ef he gits to 
 readin' too late o' nights, showin' as how his 
 171 
 
172 
 
 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 min's oneasy like, you kin git up a night hunt 
 or somethin' like that, or ef that don't work 
 you kin go out an' yell like a painter till he gits 
 his gun." 
 
 A " painter," in mountain parlance, meant 
 a panther, or more properly the mountain lion, 
 a catlike, predatory beast between whom and 
 the mountaineers there was eternal war. 
 
 " Anyhow, Theonidas," concluded Judy, 
 " you ain't no fool, an' now as you knows my 
 intentions, you's to carry 'em out. Keep him 
 a goin'. Keep him busy. Keep him so durned 
 tired that he can't help sleepin' o' nights. 
 That's your cawntract. Ef he gits contrary an' 
 won't git sleepy an' you can't think o' nothin' 
 else to do, jes' you set down an' tell him a lot 
 o' your yarns. He's too perlite not to let you 
 talk on, an' I ain't never knowed nothin' as 
 would put a feller to sleep quicker'n one o' your 
 yarns, Theonidas." 
 
 In the event there proved to be no need of 
 the soporific influence of Theonidas's yarns. 
 Westover had gone into the mountains to dis- 
 tract his mind with sport, and he pursued that 
 purpose ceaselessly by day and by night. He 
 
JUDY INFORMS HERSELF 173 
 
 would hunt deer, bears, turkeys, squirrels, 
 pheasants and every other species of game as 
 it came into the advancing season, throughout 
 the day, and at night after a campfire dinner 
 which he cooked for himself, he and Theonidas 
 would go eagerly in quest of night prowlers 
 'coons, 'possums, and painters. Nowand then 
 he would send Theonidas down the mountain 
 with a present of game for Judy, while he 
 himself exercised his wits ki controversy with 
 a certain wily old trout that was accustomed 
 to jeer at him from one or another pool of 
 the stream that flowed by the cabin 'door. 
 Sometimes he sent a haunch of venison, a half 
 dozen -pheasants or a brace of young wild tur- 
 key gobblers, with a request that Judy should 
 arrange for their delivery to Carley Farns- 
 worth, a commission he knew she would exe- 
 cute to the letter. 
 
 In brief, young Westover was growing 
 healthy of mind and body again, while the 
 books he had brought with him to serve as 
 a means of killing time lay unopened in the 
 log cabin where he slept for long hours at such 
 times as physical weariness forbade him further 
 
i 7 4 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 to follow the sports of the glorious out of 
 doors. 
 
 In the meanwhile Judy Peters was maturing 
 her plans. She kept Edgar Coffey most of the 
 time in the plantation part of the county, with 
 instructions to find out how the people down 
 there felt toward Westover, and who among 
 them might be trusted to aid her in a project 
 she had formed, when the time should be ripe 
 for its execution. As a result of Edgar's 
 mousing inquiries and her own shrewd skill in 
 discriminating between truth and falsehood in 
 his periodical reports, Judy Peters knew more 
 about sentiment in the piedmont region than 
 anybody there did, not excepting William Wil- 
 berforce Webb, whose personal concern it was 
 to inform himself accurately as to that. She 
 knew, as Webb did not, that the great majority 
 of the men of Westover's own class the men 
 of assured social position were strongly dis- 
 posed to regard his misfortune with generous 
 sympathy, while those of less well assured 
 standing were disposed to shrug shoulders and 
 give hints of doubt. 
 
 She learned one thing, however, that 
 
JUDY INFORMS HERSELF 175 
 
 troubled her a good deal. Among those of 
 Westover's own class there was a vague, un- 
 defined but none the less hurtful suspicion that 
 he had somehow failed of manly chivalry in his 
 treatment of Margaret Conway. The suspicion 
 had its origin in the fact that Colonel Conway 
 would in no way discuss Westover's case or 
 express any opinion concerning him or his con- 
 duct. On the other hand it lacked definiteness 
 for the same reason. If there were no truth 
 in it, people argued, Colonel Conway would 
 certainly plant a heavy heel upon the rumor 
 as an act of simple justice to a falsely accused 
 young man; if there were truth in it, it was 
 difficult to understand why Colonel Conway did 
 not call the young man to account in some 
 way. 
 
 Of all these conditions Judy was fully in- 
 formed and when the autumn came, with the 
 general election in prospect, she directed Edgar 
 Coffey to find out definitely concerning the 
 prospective " enominations," as she and all the 
 rest of the mountain folk called them. 
 
 " Is that there f adey calico feller, Webb, a 
 goin' to be enominated fer State senator from 
 
176 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 our distric'," she asked of her emissary when 
 he returned from his mission. 
 
 " No, he's a strikin' higher like. He's a 
 goin' to be emoninated fer State senator from 
 this distric'; in fac' he's enominated a'ready, 
 an' he's mighty proud like over it." 
 
 " Yes, well, what's he a sayin' 'bout it? " 
 " He says as he's got the reg'lar Whig enom- 
 ination, an' as this is a strong Whig distric', 
 he's got the 'lection sure." 
 
 Judy sat silent for awhile. Then she asked : 
 " Is he a standin' on one leg while he's a 
 waitin' fer it, Edgar? 'Case ef he is he's a 
 goin' to git mighty tired 'fore he gits the other 
 foot down. You tramp over to Marcellus 
 McGrath's this evenin' an' tell him I want to 
 see him to-morrer mornin', sure. Tell him I've 
 got a job fer him, an' don't fergit to say he's 
 to do it with his head. Ef he thought 'twas 
 work, he would forgit to come. Git along 
 now. Time's money you know, though you 
 can't never git nobody to give you silver 
 change fer it." 
 
 Marcellus McGrath was the mountain 
 schoolmaster, who read everything from 
 
JUDY INFORMS HERSELF 177 
 
 quack medicine almanacs to patent office re- 
 ports, remembered everything he read to the 
 last detail, and never in his life made the small- 
 est use of the information with which the lum- 
 ber room he called his mind was packed full. 
 Facts were everything to him ; the significance 
 of facts had never occurred to him as a thing 
 worthy of consideration. 
 
 He came promptly in response to Judy's 
 summons, and he brought with him his big, 
 shaggy headful of unrelated facts and figures, 
 more securely lodged in his memory than in 
 any book of reference or any table of statistics. 
 
 Judy " tapped him," as she described the 
 process, as soon as he had lighted his pipe after 
 a barbaric feast of fried chicken, jowl and 
 greens, pot cheese, green corn, batter bread, 
 cold ham, tomatoes, souse, roast venison from 
 Westover's camp, cucumbers, onions, apple 
 butter, rice pudding, apple dumplings, and ice 
 cream. 
 
 By way of explanation to Sapphira, while 
 the meal was in process of preparation, she had 
 said: 
 
 " Mark McGrath don't git none too much to 
 
1 78 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 eat at home, I reckon, an' I'm a goin' to pump 
 enough facts an' figgers out'n him to leave 
 room for the other things." 
 
 But she did not begin the pumping process 
 until McGrath's pipe was comfortably lighted, 
 and then she did so gently at first. She had 
 placed a slate and pencil on a table by his side, 
 so that he might " figger out " anything she 
 wanted elucidated. 
 
 " How many voters is they in this here sen- 
 ate distric'?" she asked him to begin with; 
 and he gave the figures promptly. 
 
 " Set that down on the slate," she directed, 
 and the order was obeyed. 
 
 ' 'Bout how many o' them is planters' votes 
 countin' in the overseers an' the rest o' them 
 as always votes the way the planters tells 'em 
 to?" 
 
 McGrath thought for a brief while and then 
 gave his estimate. 
 
 " How many of 'em is Democratic votes ? " 
 
 " Oh, the district is almost solidly Whig. 
 The Democratic vote is really a negligible 
 quantity," the schoolmaster, beginning to feel 
 his importance, replied. 
 
JUDY INFORMS HERSELF 179 
 
 " I ain't a fishin' fer big words, Mark. I's 
 a huntin' fer facts. Don't you make no mis- 
 take about that. Now, tell me, how many 
 Democratic votes was they in the last elec- 
 tion?" 
 
 So she went on with her catechism, making 
 her interlocutor set down on the slate such fig- 
 ures as she wished to use in her calculations. 
 With these as factors she made the school- 
 master do a deal of abstruse reckoning, the pur- 
 port and purpose of which he could not at all 
 conjecture, but the results of which seemed to 
 satisfy her, as she said at the end of it all : 
 
 " It kin be did, an' by the Hokey Pokey 
 Fenokey it's a goin' to be did. That little 
 worm-eaten, blossom-blasted chestnut of a 
 Webb'll wish he hadn't never let go of his hold 
 on the tree when Judy Peters gits through with 
 him. Say, Mark, what does William Wilber- 
 f orce mean ? " 
 
 " It's a name," McGrath began. 
 
 " Yes, I know that. But what does it mean ? 
 Whose name was it fust off? An' what was 
 it he done? An' how'd that miserable little 
 bob-tailed rooster Webb git a hold onto it? " 
 
i8o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Judy's antagonisms were implacable, and 
 they were apt to find expression in her epithets 
 and her metaphors. She knew next to nothing 
 of Webb, and she had permitted her mountain- 
 eers to vote for him at the last preceding elec- 
 tion. But now that she recognized in him an 
 enemy of Boyd Westover, she hated him with 
 an intensity and an unreason possible only to 
 a nature such as hers, in which the primal pas- 
 sions of humanity had yielded themselves to 
 no chastening of circumstance or civilization. 
 
 McGrath, to whom no hint of Judy's pur- 
 poses had been given, answered her questions 
 as if reading from a cyclopaedia: 
 
 " William Wilberforce was an Englishman, 
 celebrated as a philanthropist and especially 
 distinguished by his work for the abolition of 
 negro slavery. He was known in England as 
 ' the great abolitionist.' " 
 
 " That's all right/' said Judy with a grunt 
 of satisfaction. " I ain't got no way o' fmdin' 
 out how that bow-legged hoppergrass, Webb, 
 got a holt'n the name, but he'll wish't he hadn't 
 'fore I git through with him. Now, Mark, I 
 want you to write down jes' what you's tole 
 
JUDY INFORMS HERSELF 181 
 
 me no more an' no less 'bout that there 
 abolitionist Wilberforce. Jest write it down 
 on paper an' leave it." 
 
 " What are you up to, Judy, anyhow ? " 
 McGrath ventured to ask. 
 
 " That's what the queen bee axed the b'ar 
 when he clum' the bee tree, an' the b'ar says : 
 ' I'm up to the hole that's got the honey in 
 it.' " 
 
 And Judy vouchsafed no further explanation 
 of her purposes. 
 
 Next day she sent for Edgar Coffey and 
 questioned him. 
 
 " Who's this here Don Carlos Farnsworth 
 that Westover's always a sendin' game to? 
 Do you know him? " 
 
 11 Yes. He's a white man." 
 
 In the parlance of Virginia at that time there 
 was no phrase that meant so much as that. To 
 say of one that he was " a white man " was 
 to say that he was honest, upright, true and 
 loyal to the tips of his fingers. Judy perfectly 
 understood and so far was satisfied. 
 
 "Kin he talk?" she asked. 
 
 " Well I reckon. I ain't never seed him 
 
182 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 when he was a doin' anything else. Words 
 streams out'n him like water out'n a spoutin' 
 spring, an' they's the sort o' words that wallops 
 you all up an' don't leave you no chanst to 
 argify." 
 
 " You go down thar to-morrow, Edgar, an' 
 tell him please to come up here jes' as quick 
 as he kin, an' have dinner an' a night's lodgin' 
 like. Tell him I want to see him 'bout Boyd 
 Westover, an' ef he backs an' pulls on the halter 
 like, you tell him I say Boyd's in a bad way 
 in certain respec's. Remember to say ' in cer- 
 tain respec's.' Ef you don't you'll mislead 
 him." 
 
 " Why not write him a letter, Judy, an' let 
 me carry it ? Then you'd be sure." 
 
 " I ain't a writin' no letters. You see's long 
 as you jes' send word like, they ain't nothin' 
 for anybody to git a hold on. Nobody kin be 
 sure you said jest them words, and nobody 
 kin prove you didn't say 'em jes' a little differ- 
 enter. But ef you put yourself down in writin' 
 they's got you. No, I ain't a writin' nothin', 
 partic'lar when I's got a hen on the nest fer 
 some feller. So you jes' go down there to- 
 
JUDY INFORMS HERSELF 183 
 
 morrow an' tell Don Carlos Farnsworth I'm 
 a invitin' him up here on Boyd Westover's 
 account. Ef he says he'll come, you hain't got 
 no need to say no more. But ef he backs in 
 the traces like, you jes' tell him what I tole 
 you about Boyd a bein' in a bad way in certain 
 respec's. Remember them words an' say 'em 
 right ' in certain respec's! " 
 
XVIII 
 
 JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN 
 
 JUDY'S summons brought Carley Farns- 
 worth up into the mountains within the 
 fewest possible hours after she gave it to 
 her emissary to deliver. For Carley Farns- 
 worth was Westover's friend, and in Virginia 
 at that time friendship meant a readiness to 
 serve at any cost or hazard. 
 
 It was nearing supper time when Farns- 
 worth appeared at Judy's hospitable door and 
 introduced himself. 
 
 "This is Mrs. Peters, I suppose?" he said 
 as she confronted him. 
 
 " Judy Peters is my name," she answered 
 in that spirit of mountain democracy which 
 scorns titles and distinctions and shams of 
 every other sort. 
 
 Farnsworth was quick to catch the under- 
 lying significance of her correction and both 
 184 
 
JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN 185 
 
 diplomacy and humor prompted him to play 
 the game as she wanted it played. 
 
 " That's what I hoped for," he responded 
 quickly; " for Judy Peters is the very person 
 I most want to see in all the world just now. 
 I am Carley Farnsworth, Judy. Of course 
 Boyd has written the name ' Don Carlos ' every 
 time he has sent me game through you, and 
 so you don't know me as ' Carley,' but that's 
 what I am to all my friends, and I count you 
 as one of the best of them because you're a 
 friend of Boyd Westover, just as I am." 
 
 " Now that's spoke up like a real, natural 
 young feller, an' not like a drasted stuck-up," 
 responded Judy, shaking hands and bestowing 
 him in a porch chair where a minute later she 
 pressed a toddy of apple brandy upon his ac- 
 ceptance, as a sure cure for the weariness he 
 must feel after his trapes up the mountain. 
 
 As he sipped the seductive beverage he and 
 she talked. But neither alluded even in the 
 most distant way to the occasion for his visit 
 or to Judy's summons, or to anything else re- 
 lating to Boyd Westover. They were both 
 fencing for position. Each wanted to " size 
 
i86 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 up " the other, before approaching matters of 
 confidence and consequence. But by the time 
 Judy's generous supper was at an end these 
 two understood each other and each trusted 
 the other. Judy had told him how many 
 " hawgs " she sent down the mountain every 
 year to be sold to planters, to be corn fed for 
 three weeks, and converted into hams, bacon, 
 souse, and all the rest of the good things in 
 which Virginian appetites revelled. She had 
 told him how many " bar'ls " of apple brandy 
 she made " in a average year," how much 
 cider, how much vinegar, and where her mar- 
 ket was for all these things. Incidentally she 
 had given him her picturesque opinions upon 
 many questions of human character, life and 
 conduct, and he in his turn had told her every- 
 thing he could think of, concerning himself. 
 
 " Now you an' me's acquainted," Judy said 
 when she thought the time ripe for the reve- 
 lation of her plans. " You's the sort o' feller 
 to git acquainted with, easy an' natural like, 
 'case you ain't got nothin' to keep up your 
 sleeve, an' you ain't got up in a lot o' shams 
 an' frills. You is straight goods, Carley, all 
 
JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN 187 
 
 wool, a yard wide an' dyed in the hanks. May 
 be it's 'cause you's a real 'ristocrat what don't 
 need to keep on tellin' 'bout it." 
 
 " Thank you for the compliment, Judy," 
 said Farnsworth, interrupting. 
 
 " They ain't no compliment to thank any- 
 body for," she replied. " They ain't never no 
 compliments a flyin' about when Judy Peters 
 is mixed up in the talk; or ef they is they's 
 purty apt to git holes punched in 'em. Ef I 
 thought you was a palaverin' liar, Carley, I'd 
 tell you so straight out. Ef I thought you was 
 a feller what would say one thing an' do an- 
 other, you'd hear that opinion from Judy 
 Peters's lips, an' what's more you wouldn't 
 hear none o' the things I axed you to come up 
 here to hear about. Now le's git down to busi- 
 ness, as the feller said when the sheriff was 
 slow about a hangin' of him. You see, Carley, 
 Boyd Westover's had a shakin' up, an' he ain't 
 right in his sperits. He's got a notion into his 
 head that folks is down on him an' all that. 
 S'long as he's up there a huntin' an' fishin' an' 
 listenin' to Theonidas's yarns an' sleepin' tight 
 he's all right. But that notion 'bout folks a 
 
i88 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 bein' down on him is still a stickin' in his mind, 
 like mutton gravy sticks in the roof of your 
 mouth, an' you an' me's got to cure him of it. 
 I's already laid out plans, an' ef you're game 
 to help me, we'll rub that thing off'n his slate." 
 
 " I'm game to help you, Judy, in any way 
 you like. You may bet all the apple brandy 
 you've got on that." 
 
 " Is that a hint, like ? Does you want an- 
 other nip? 'Cause ef you do, it'll be here 
 quicker'n lightnin'." 
 
 " No, Judy. I don't want another dram, 
 and I never indulge in hints, especially with a 
 straightforward person like you. If I wanted 
 a drink I'd tell you so, but in fact I hardly ever 
 taste liquor of any sort, and that toddy you 
 gave me was the first I've sipped in a year or 
 more." 
 
 " Yes, it's curious, but they's a good many 
 young men nowadays as don't take to their 
 drams natural like. I s'pose it's all right, but 
 I don't understand it. Anyhow, that's no mat- 
 ter. As I was a sayin', Boyd Westover's got 
 that notion in his head 'bout folks a bein' down 
 on him, an' it'll come back to him when the 
 
JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN 189 
 
 snow drives him down out'n the mountings. 
 Now the way to cure him of it's to git him 
 'lected to somethin', an' Fs got the somethin' 
 picked out. When he fin's as folks has voted 
 for him agin t'other feller, he jes' naturally 
 can't go on a thinkin' folks is down on him. 
 See?" 
 
 " Yes, I see that, and your idea is a good 
 one, Judy, if we can get him to run for some 
 office." 
 
 " Git him to run ? We won't ax him. We'll 
 jes' run him ourselves, an' we'll 'lect him too, 
 ef the big figgers tops the little ones as Fs 
 always seed 'em do in a 'lection count." 
 
 Judy was apt to be confident in her predic- 
 tions, chiefly for the reason that she never 
 made a prediction till she knew all the facts 
 that might bear in any way upon its fulfil- 
 ment. 
 
 " That's what I wanted to see you about, 
 Carley. This is the way of it. You kin help, 
 an' Fm a bettin' my fingers agin fishhooks 
 you'll do it." 
 
 " It's a good bet, Judy," he interrupted. 
 " I'd do anything imaginable for Westover, 
 
igo WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 and, now that I know you, I'd do even more 
 than that for you. Go on. What's your 
 plan?" 
 
 " Well, you see that measly little soap- 
 locked sap-head, William Wilberforce Webb 
 they's more name to the man than man to 
 the name has gone an' got hisself enomi- 
 nated fer the Senate. That suits me down to 
 the ground. You an' me is a goin' to beat him 
 out'n his boots, an' 'lect Westover in his stid. 
 That's the game an' the way the wind blows, 
 an' the lay o' the land." 
 
 " But, Judy, can we do it? You see Webb 
 has secured the regular Whig nomination, and 
 this is a strong Whig district." 
 
 " That's all right," answered Judy, confident 
 of the " figgerin' " she had made Marcellus 
 McGrath do on her slate. " You see it's this 
 a'way. The Democrats ain't got no chanst to 
 'lect a man o' their own, but they're a layin' 
 low to rip the righteousness out'n the reg'lar 
 Whig candidate ef they o-it the chanst, an' you 
 an' me's a goin' to give 'em the chanst. We'll 
 enominate Westover as a ' Independent Whi? 
 candidate ' an' every Democrat in the distric' 
 
JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN 191 
 
 '11 vote for him. They won't be no Democrat 
 candidate." 
 
 " Are you sure of that, Judy ? With two 
 Whigs running they might think they had a 
 chance to slip a Democrat in." 
 
 " They mout, of course, but they won't," 
 answered Judy, confidently. " I's seen to that. 
 You don't s'pose Judy Peters was borned day 
 before yesterday, do you, Carley?" Then, 
 without waiting for him to protest a greater 
 respect for her age and experience, she con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder ef the Democrats got 
 some local offices this year. You see the moun- 
 ting vote is uncertain. Anyhow, they won't 
 enominate anybody for the Senate; or, yes 
 they will. They's a makin' the enomination 
 to-day. But after you an' me has got West- 
 over a goin' their candidate will withdraw his- 
 self an' urge all Democrats to vote fer West- 
 over an' 'lect him. You see the Democrat vote 
 is a leetle more'n twenty-five per cent, in this 
 Senate distric'. I got Marcellus McGrath to 
 figger that out. An' twenty-five per cent, is 
 a quarter, Mark says, an* he knows. Now the 
 
192 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 vote up here in the mountings is more'n half 
 o' the whole, 'cause us folks up here raises 
 more children than the planter people does. 
 They ain't no profit in boastin', but I kin tell 
 you jes' confidential like, that ef Judy Peters 
 lets her tongue git too loose an' the secret slips 
 out that she wants Boyd Westover 'lected, you 
 could count on your fingers an' toes the votes 
 the other feller'd git up here in the mountings. 
 Seems to me like a sure thing, Carley." 
 
 With that Judy chuckled in satisfaction. 
 
 " But you've hearn talk o' ' moral effec',' 
 haven't you, Carley? " 
 
 Farnsworth intimated that he had some 
 small perception of the meaning of the terms, 
 and Judy went on : 
 
 " Well, what you an' me's a playin' for is 
 moral effec' on Boyd Westover. As fer 'lectin' 
 him, they won't be no trouble 'bout that. But 
 ef the moral effec' is to be strong, we mus' git 
 the biggest vote we kin for him down among 
 the plantation people. Fust off, then, he's got 
 to be enominated by that sort o' folks, without 
 no hint o' Judy Peters or the mountings in it. 
 That's your fust job. You go down there, 
 
JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN 193 
 
 sayin nothin' 'bout Judy Peters or the moun- 
 tings, an' git a lot o' the stuck-ups to jine you 
 in enominatin' him." 
 
 In those days the " Reformers " who plead 
 for independence in politics had not yet in- 
 vented their ingenious devices for compelling 
 the voter to make a choice of evils in deciding 
 for whom he would vote. There were no 
 such things as " official ballots " limiting the 
 choice of the voter to men formally nominated. 
 Every man was free, as every man everywhere 
 ought to be, to vote for whomsoever he pleased 
 without consulting an " Australian " ballot 
 sheet to find out what men he was permitted 
 to vote for. And any man who aspired to 
 office was at liberty to announce his candidacy 
 in person or through friends as an appeal to 
 his fellow citizens for their free suffrages, with- 
 out asking permission of any caucus or boss 
 or primary or convention, and without the 
 necessity of spending money corruptly in order 
 to secure the privilege of being voted for if his 
 fellow citizens wished to vote for him. 
 
 Judy continued : 
 
 " When you git all the big-bug signatures 
 
i 9 4 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 you kin, jest send a nigger round to post up the 
 enomination papers everywhere. Have 'em 
 printed, Carley, 'cause print sort o' carries 
 weight, an' printin' don't cost much, an' even 
 ef it did, 'twouldn't make no difference, 'cause 
 I'd pay the bill." 
 
 " You can't do that, Judy. Westover's 
 friends down there'll attend to that. I'll have 
 twenty or twenty-five signatures to the paper, 
 and I'll have five or six hundred printed, so as 
 to post one on every gate post and every tree 
 that anybody's likely to look at. How many 
 do you want, for use in the mountains ? " 
 
 " None at all ! Not one ! " answered Judy, 
 emphatically. " They won't be needed up here, 
 'cause I'm a takin' care o' the mounting vote, 
 an' I ain't a sayin' nothin'. Let 'em keep a 
 guessin' 'bout how the mountings is a goin' 
 till they hears the answer to the riddle when 
 the polls is closed. You see ef they find out 
 the mountings is agin 'em they'll try to do 
 somethin' up here, an' ef they's uncertain they 
 won't care to stir up things. But besides all 
 that, there's the drymatic climax to think of. 
 Tom Hardaway tole me all about that wunst, 
 
JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN 195 
 
 so I know what a drymatic climax is, an' I 
 mean to have one this time, jest for the sake 
 o' that banty rooster, William Wilberforce 
 Webb, who'll find all his tail feathers pulled 
 out by the roots when the 'lection's over." 
 
 It will perhaps be inferred from Judy's ut- 
 terances that her hatreds were implacable as 
 her likings were limitless. For explanation it 
 is only necessary to remember that Judy Peters 
 was an entirely natural person, unaffected by 
 any of the agencies of civilization. To her, in 
 sentiment and emotion, compromises were as 
 impossible as concessions ; qualifications as un- 
 thinkable as cowardice itself and there was 
 no cowardice in Judy. Toward those whose 
 conduct had aroused neither animosity nor 
 affection in her soul, she was always fair with 
 a frankness that had no hypocrisy and no re- 
 serve in it; toward those whom she cherished 
 as friends her loyalty was o<f a sort that knew 
 no bounds and asked no questions; toward 
 those whom she recognized as her enemies, and 
 still more toward those who were the enemies 
 of her friends, she cherished a malevolence that 
 knew no mercy and that stopped at nothing 
 
196 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 in the accomplishment of its malignant pur- 
 poses. 
 
 Such was Judy a typical representative of 
 the human animal in his untamed and natural 
 state. 
 
 " Then they's another thing, Carley, an' it's 
 fust an' foremost in my thinkin'." 
 
 "What is it, Judy?" 
 
 " Well, it's this aways. You see you an' 
 me's a workin' an' a plannin' to bring West- 
 over round all right again. Now the 'lection 
 '11 do a mighty sight that way, but 'twon't do 
 it all. What Boyd needs is a good, hard fight, 
 an' that's what you an' me's got to give him. 
 He ain't to know nothin' 'bout the way the 
 'lection's a goin' when he hears of his enomi- 
 nation. He ain't to know as how Judy Peters 
 had anything to do with it. He's jest to be 
 told as how a lot o' you stuck-ups has enomi- 
 nated him, and how nobody knows where he's 
 a been, an' how they's a sayin' an' a insinuatin' 
 all sorts o' things, an* specially that he's afeard 
 to face his constituents. That'll stir up all the 
 fightin' blood they is in him, an' they's apt to 
 be a lot o' that sort o' blood in a Westover. 
 
JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN 197 
 
 It'll set him hot when he gits down your way, 
 an' from then tell the 'lection's over he'll fight 
 like a catamount when a dozen hounds gits 
 him cornered. That's what he needs, an' when 
 the thing's over, an' he fin's himself 'lected by 
 a large majority, an' sees that water-soaked 
 piece o' cheap soap that calls hisself William 
 Wilberforce Webb a slinkin' off into his hole 
 like a drownded rat, he won't git to thinkin' 
 agin' that folks is down on him." 
 
 Judy's metaphors were a trifle mixed per- 
 haps, but her rhetoric had behind it an intensity 
 and a sincerity of purpose that left her auditor 
 in no doubt as to her meaning. 
 
 " Judy, you're a brick ! " exclaimed Carley 
 Farnsworth rising and grasping her hand. 
 " You've got blood in your veins, and sand in 
 your gizzard, and a headpiece on your shoul- 
 ders. I'm with you, all over and clear through. 
 I'm going back down the mountain to-morrow 
 morning. I'll get the nomination papers out, 
 and I'll speak three times a day for Westover. 
 I never made a speech in my life, but I can do 
 it now, and all between the speeches I'll talk. 
 The words'll flow out of me like water through 
 
198 WESTOVER OF W ANAL AH 
 
 a mill-tail. And one thing more, Judy; I'm 
 a little fellow, as you know. I don't weigh 
 a hundred and ten pounds, I'm only five feet 
 three in my shoes, but I can pull a trigger. 
 I'll see to it that nobody says anything shame- 
 ful about Boyd Westover without being called 
 to an interview with me at ten paces." 
 
 So was the compact made. Judy went in- 
 side and brewed a bowl of hot apple toddy 
 which she insisted that Carley should share 
 with her " jes' to bind the bargain/' she said, 
 and Carley, unused as he was to such indul- 
 gence, took the risk of a next morning's head- 
 ache by drinking fair with her. 
 
XIX 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN 
 
 CARLEY FARNSWORTH never did 
 anything by halves. His methods were 
 those of one engaged in killing snakes. 
 When he undertook the accomplishment of a 
 purpose he tirelessly left nothing undone that 
 might in the smallest degree assist in that ac- 
 complishment. 
 
 In this case he appealed personally and 
 quietly to all the planters in the district to aid 
 in the choice of a man of their own class to 
 represent them in the upper house of the Legis- 
 lature, instead of a shifty lawyer of " insecure 
 antecedents, unripened position, and as yet un- 
 proved character." That was the careful 
 phrase he had framed for use while trudging 
 down the mountain, and he used it so effect- 
 ively that he soon had a score of the most in- 
 199 
 
200 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 fluential names in all that region appended to 
 his announcement of Boyd Westover's candi- 
 dacy. 
 
 But he was not satisfied with that. He re- 
 minded the two store keepers at the Court 
 House that Westover's constituency repre- 
 sented in a large degree the purchasing capacity 
 of the region, and the two store keepers, alert 
 to conserve their own interests, not only signed 
 the nomination announcement, but secured a 
 number of other and humbler signatures, and 
 made of their stores a species of campaigning 
 centres in Westover's interest, thus giving a 
 needed flavor of democracy to the aristocratic 
 appeal to the planters to " choose for their 
 senator a man whose character, attainments 
 and social position render him fitly representa- 
 tive of the district and its people." 
 
 Carley Farnsworth was a doctor in large 
 practice. As such he was versed in what he 
 called " the gospel of keeping the mouth shut." 
 Accordingly he made his preliminary canvas 
 silently, secretly and with so little ostentation 
 that neither Webb nor any of his friends 
 dreamed of what was going on. Their first 
 
BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN 201 
 
 intimation of it was the discovery one morning 
 that the nominating placards were posted on 
 the court house doors, all over the fronts of 
 all the blacksmiths' and wheelrights' shops, on 
 all the school houses, on the posts of every gate 
 that was licensed to obstruct a public road, and 
 upon every conspicuous tree in the piedmont 
 part of the Senate district. 
 
 For Carley Farnsworth had adopted Judy 
 Peters's view of " drymatic effect," and had 
 had all his placards posted between midnight 
 and morning of a single day. 
 
 The dramatic effect was instantly apparent. 
 All tongues were set wagging and before an- 
 other night came everybody in the region 
 round about knew that Boyd Westover was 
 a candidate for the Senate, nominated in his 
 absence and supported by many of the most 
 influential men in the community. 
 
 What it meant, nobody knew, and everybody 
 asked everybody else. Those who asked Car- 
 ley Farnsworth got for reply : 
 
 " Oh, it is only that some of us think we 
 ought to have a fitter man than Webb to repre- 
 sent us in the Senate, and we've nominated 
 
202 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Westover without his knowledge or con- 
 sent." 
 
 " But where is he ? " was sure to be the next 
 question. " Is he afraid to face the public?" 
 
 " No," Carley answered in every case. " If 
 you get it into your head that Boyd Westover 
 is afraid of anything or anybody, you'll be as 
 badly mistaken as if you'd burnt your boots. 
 He's away on a hunting and fishing expedition, 
 just now, and he knows nothing of his nomi- 
 nation. When we notify him of it he'll be here 
 to face anything or anybody, and in the mean- 
 while there are some others of us who are pre- 
 pared to do any ' facing ' that may be neces- 
 sary." 
 
 This last utterance was intended to check 
 unfavorable references to Boyd Westover's un- 
 fortunate experience, and it was in the main 
 effective. For Carley Farnsworth, small as he 
 was, had a reputation as a fighting force of no 
 mean pretensions. Three times he had met 
 antagonists on the duelling field. On one of 
 those occasions he had seriously wounded his 
 foe, and then had tenderly cared for him, nurs- 
 ing him back to health in his own house. On 
 
BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN 203 
 
 the two other occasions his antagonists had 
 apologized. In still another case Carley had 
 shown a loftier courage. After accepting a 
 challenge he had said to his seconds : 
 
 " I am satisfied that I'm in the wrong in this 
 matter. I was entirely sincere in making the 
 charge for which I am challenged, but I made 
 it upon misinformation, and I am prepared to 
 withdraw and apologize for it. Communicate 
 that decision to my antagonist. If he still 
 wants a shot at me, he can have it of course." 
 
 Such was Carley Farnsworth, and in view 
 of the veiled warning his words gave, it was 
 felt that an extreme discretion in discussing 
 matters pertaining to Westover's candidacy 
 was, to say the least, desirable. 
 
 Yet Webb and his friends felt that some- 
 thing must be done to stem the tide created 
 by the Westover nomination. The names ap- 
 pended to it were those of such men that their 
 support of any candidacy in opposition, seri- 
 ously imperilled Webb's chance of election, 
 which until then had been regarded as a fore- 
 gone conclusion that needed no looking after. 
 
 " Something must be done," and the fact 
 
204 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 that Colonel Conway's signature was conspicu- 
 ously absent from the nomination paper, sug- 
 gested the nature of that " something." It was 
 known that The Oaks and Wanalah were ad- 
 joining plantations; that the Con ways and 
 the Westovers had been the closest intimates 
 for generations; that Colonel Conway had 
 wearied all ears with his eulogiums of West- 
 over's gallantry in rescuing his daughter in 
 time of peril. Why then was Colonel Con- 
 way's name absent from a list that it should 
 naturally have headed? Was it that he be- 
 lieved in Westover's guilt in spite of the re- 
 vealed facts, as some others professed to do? 
 Or was there truth in the rumor, which was 
 vaguely floating about, that Westover had 
 jilted Colonel Conway's daughter? 
 
 That last suggestion was quickly negatived 
 in all well ordered minds by the certain knowl- 
 edge that if Westover or any other man on 
 earth had been guilty of such offence toward 
 a daughter of the house of Conway, the head 
 of that house would have horse-whipped the 
 offender in public and at the point of a pistol. 
 
 Nevertheless there remained the fact that 
 
BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN 205 
 
 Colonel Conway's name did not appear among 
 those nominating Boyd Westover, and that fact 
 greatly encouraged Webb and his adherents 
 when they found that they must fight tooth and 
 nail for an election which they had deemed 
 secure beyond the necessity of endeavor of any 
 sort. They set to work, not so much to find 
 out the reason for Colonel Conway's refusal 
 of his name, as to insinuate conjectural solu- 
 tions of that riddle that might be hurtfully 
 whispered into doubting ears. 
 
 " There must be something wrong in that 
 quarter." 
 
 " It isn't easy to explain." 
 
 " Of course Colonel Conway has his rea- 
 sons, even if he doesn't give them." 
 
 " If there wasn't something wrong, why 
 didn't Colonel Conway put his name first on 
 the list?" 
 
 These, and like things could be said without 
 incurring a challenge from Carley Farns- 
 worth's wrath, and they were diligently and 
 hurtfully said ; hurtfully because in that com- 
 munity the least suspicion that a man had been 
 other than chivalrous in his treatment of a 
 
206 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 woman was damning beyond the possibility of 
 forgiving. 
 
 This thing troubled Carley Farnsworth 
 more than he liked to admit even to himself. 
 A good many signatures had been denied to 
 his nominating paper on the sole ground that 
 Colonel Conway had refused to sign it, and the 
 absence of his signature was the one effective 
 plea of Webb and his followers. 
 
 When Carley Farnsworth had gone to Colo- 
 nel Conway to ask his aid, the sturdy old 
 planter had replied: 
 
 " I have reasons of my own for not signing 
 your paper, Dr. Farnsworth. Please do not 
 ask me what they are." 
 
 To that there was no possible response. The 
 request with which the Colonel concluded his 
 reply made a peremptory end of the conversa- 
 tion so far as that subject was concerned, and 
 so Carley Farnsworth talked of crops and the 
 curing of hams instead. 
 
 But Carley Farnsworth felt that this doubt, 
 this question, this suspicion, was a seriously 
 undermining influence in his campaign for his 
 friend, which there was no means of meeting 
 
BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN 207 
 
 in Boyd Westover's absence. For, in whispers 
 and by questions that could not be challenged 
 as assertions, Webb and his followers were 
 suggesting that Colonel Conway was only 
 waiting for Westover's return before making 
 public the reasons that impelled him to with- 
 hold his approval of his neighbor's candidacy, 
 and that the fear of Colonel Conway's wrath 
 was the real reason for Boyd Westover's con- 
 tinued absence. 
 
 Carley's first impulse was to write to Judy 
 Peters, telling her that Boyd's presence was 
 necessary and giving her the reasons. But 
 upon reflection he decided that this was a case 
 in which Judy's objection to " puttin' things 
 down in writin' " was peculiarly applicable and 
 valid. So he sought converse with Edgar Cof- 
 fey, who, under Judy's instructions, was " a 
 hangin' round " the lower parts of the district, 
 and confided to him the urgent and explanatory 
 message he wished Judy to receive. 
 
 On receipt of the message, Judy acted 
 promptly, but in her own way. To Edgar 
 Coffey she said : 
 
 " You go home now, an' look after things 
 
208 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 there. You's got nine good hogs to kill this 
 fall an' your wife's a feedin' 'em on apples. 
 Your wife's purty, Edgar, an' her ways is 
 pleasin', but she ain't got the sense she was 
 horned with. She mixes the strippin's with the 
 milk jes' as ef strippin's wa'n't purty nigh the 
 same as cream, an' she hitches a horse to the 
 body of a tree, 'stead of a swingin' limb, so's 
 the beast can break the halter an' go home, 
 leavin' her to walk. She done that at church 
 only two weeks ago come nex' Sunday. An' 
 now she's a feedin' hogs on apples when she 
 orter be a givin' 'em corn to harden the meat 
 fer killin' time. So you better go home an' 
 fix things. I'll ten' to the rest." 
 
 Edgar was grievously disappointed. He 
 had confidently hoped to be himself Judy's 
 messenger to Boyd Westover, but Judy was 
 much too sagacious to permit that. 
 
 " Boyd'll ax questions," she reflected, 
 " 'cause he'll be full o' wonderment 'bout this 
 here thing, an' Edgar mout let the right an- 
 swers slip out. Theonidas can't do that, 'cause 
 he don't know nothin' 'bout the answers." 
 
 She expected Theonidas to visit her that eve- 
 
BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN 209 
 
 ning to secure a bag of corn meal that she 
 knew he and Boyd sorely needed. She would 
 send her message by Theonidas, therefore, and 
 would leave the message to take the place of 
 the meal. 
 
 It was supper time when Theonidas arrived, 
 bringing a wild turkey gobbler and a dozen 
 squirrels on his back. 
 
 "Them's all right," said Judy, feeling of 
 the game. " Tell Boyd he'd orter 'a' saved 
 'em to take to Wanalah to-morrow. He'll be 
 a entertainin' folks there an' it 'ud 'a' been 
 handy to have some game in the house." 
 
 " He ain't a thinkin' o' comin' down the 
 mounting yit," replied the boy in open eyed 
 wonder. 
 
 "I know he ain't," Judy replied. "But 
 when you git back up there to-night an' 
 you's a goin' to start back soon's you git yer 
 supper he'll be a thinkin' about it, an' 'twon't 
 take much thinkin' to set them legs o' his'n a 
 movin'. You come an' git your supper, an' 
 then mosey up the mounting as fast as yer feet 
 kin foller one another. An' you're to tell Boyd 
 that they's the devil to pay an' no funds, down 
 
210 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Wanalah way. Tell him I says he's got to git 
 down thar' quick an' face the music." 
 
 " What's it all about, Mammy?" asked 
 Theonidas with not unnatural curiosity. 
 
 " That ain't none o' your business," Judy 
 replied, " an' ef you don't know nothin' you 
 can't git it wrong in tellin' it. You jes' say 
 what I's tole you to say, an' by midnight he'll 
 be a stumblin' down the mounting to find out 
 what's the matter. But tell him now mind, 
 Theonidas, an' listen to what I's a sayin' " 
 for the boy was reaching across the table for 
 a second helping of some dish he specially rel- 
 ished, and Judy feared that he was not attend- 
 ing to her instructions " listen to what I's 
 a sayin' " 
 
 " I's is a listenin', Mammy," the boy replied. 
 " Fs heard every word." 
 
 " Is you? Then what was it I said last? " 
 she demanded. 
 
 " You said as how that by midnight he'd be 
 a stumblin' down the mounting to find out 
 what's the matter." 
 
 " Right you is ! " said Judy approvingly. 
 " Now that's business, an* so is what I'm a 
 
BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN 211 
 
 goin' to say. You is to tell him not to come 
 near Judy Peters' s place. Tell him they's rea- 
 sons. Tell him to go down t'other road Ar- 
 ricktown way. It's shorter an' quicker, but tell 
 him they's reasons besides the shortness an' 
 quickness. An' when you's tole him all that 
 tell him your Mammy says he kin count on her 
 tell death! That'll cheer him up, like." 
 
XX 
 
 THE SATISFACTION OF W. W. WEBB 
 
 WHEN William Wilberforce Webb 
 found that he had to fight for an 
 election which he had supposed to 
 be securely his by virtue of his regular nomina- 
 tion as the candidate of the dominant party, 
 he hastily called his friends and advisers to- 
 gether for consultation. 
 
 In the course of the discussion it was decided 
 that the weak spot in Webb's campaign lay in 
 his neglect to do anything to secure the moun- 
 tain vote. 
 
 " We'll divide about even down here," said 
 the shrewdest politician among Webb's follow- 
 ing. " You see the whole Democratic vote is 
 just so much withdrawn from Westover's 
 strength among the planters, and the Demo- 
 crats seem to be in earnest this year. That 
 leaves us with a small but secure majority in 
 
 212 
 
SATISFACTION OF WEBB 
 
 213 
 
 this part of the district. The decision will 
 rest with the mountain vote, and so far as I 
 can see we've done nothing to secure that.'' 
 
 " I haven't thought it necessary," answered 
 Webb, " until now. You see the mountain 
 people have seemed entirely indifferent, and 
 they seem so now. As they gave me a big 
 majority at the last election, I have reckoned 
 upon party lines to give me a like majority 
 this time." 
 
 " Have you seen Judy Peters ? " asked one 
 of the advisers. 
 
 " No. I have taken the mountain vote for 
 granted, as about three-fourths Whig and one- 
 fourth Democratic. You see none of us ex- 
 pected this intrusion of Boyd Westover into 
 the campaign." 
 
 " No, none of us expected it," answered an- 
 other, " but we've run up against the unex- 
 pected, and we've got to meet it. Webb, 
 you've got to go up and see Judy Peters. If 
 you please her she'll settle the election out of 
 hand, but if you offend her, then God save us, 
 for no lesser power can ! " 
 
 "I'll go," answered Webb, "but I really 
 
214 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 don't think it necessary. I had a talk with 
 Edgar Coffey the other day in fact I had 
 him dine with me at the hotel and he as- 
 sured me that Judy Peters was taking no inter- 
 est in the campaign. He said Judy cares so 
 little about it that even he hadn't heard an ex- 
 pression of opinion from her lips. So I have 
 taken the normal Whig majority in the moun- 
 tains for granted." 
 
 Thereupon " Foggy " he had some other 
 name but nobody ever remembered it arose 
 and walked twice across the floor before speak- 
 ing. He was barkeeper, constable, jailor, liv- 
 ery man, faro dealer, hound-master, money 
 lender, note shaver, and pretty nearly every- 
 thing else that was disreputable, whether offi- 
 cial or unofficial, at the county seat, and in his 
 various capacities he was rightly supposed to 
 know politics and men as nobody else in the 
 county did. At last he turned to Webb and 
 asked : 
 
 " Was it yesterday or the day before, that 
 you were born? Because if it was longer ago 
 than yesterday there really can be no excuse 
 for your faith in Edgar Coffey. Don't you 
 
SATISFACTION OF WEBB 215 
 
 know he was never caught telling the truth but 
 once in his life, and that time he was talking 
 in his sleep after too heavy a load of apple 
 jack, and took it all back as soon as he waked 
 up? Now my advice to you is to get your 
 walking boots on as quick as ever you can, 
 and go up to Judy Peters's for a consultation 
 as to the mountain vote. And you want to 
 mind your eye with Judy, for if you offend 
 her your goose is cooked and your cake's 
 dough." 
 
 In accordance with this suggestion, Webb 
 prepared himself for a journey up the mountain 
 road, but as he had a speaking engagement to 
 keep, he could not make the proposed visit 
 until a day later. In the meanwhile, and by 
 way of placation, he sent a messenger with a 
 note to Judy, in which he wrote : 
 
 " I feel that I have neglected my duty in not 
 visiting you before, but I have had my days 
 and nights so full of work that it has really 
 seemed impossible until now. I am going up 
 to-morrow to enjoy one of your matchless sup- 
 pers and have a talk with you about whatever 
 interests you. As for my campaign for the 
 
216 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Senate, I know your loyalty too well to doubt 
 that it has your approval; and now that the 
 intrusion of a third candidate has rendered the 
 result somewhat insecure in the piedmont part 
 of the district, I hope to interest you so far 
 that you will help me stir up a rousing vote in 
 the mountains." 
 
 Judy's sole comment on the letter was : 
 " They'll be a rousin' vote in the mountings 
 sure enough." 
 
 Then she turned to Sapphira and with a 
 relish in her tone, said : 
 
 " Say, Sapphiry, you an' me's got to lay our- 
 selves out on tomorry night's supper. They's 
 a candidate a comin'." 
 
 " Is he one you's a goin' to 'lect ? " 
 " Yes to stay at home. But may be you's 
 noticed, Sapphiry, that whenever I picks out a 
 shoat to be turned into victuals next day, I al- 
 ways gives that shoat fust chanst at the butter- 
 milk, an' see to it as how he kin jes' lay down 
 all night, 'longside o' more corn 'n he could 
 eat in a week. They ain't much difference 
 'twix' candidates an' shoats I reckon, least- 
 ways some candidates. So you an' me's jes' 
 
SATISFACTION OF WEBB 217 
 
 got to git up a supper fer to-morry night sich 
 as the candidate never seen in his life before. 
 You go to the smoke house an' git the ham 
 that hangs wrong end up on the third row o' 
 hooks, three hams from the left end. Wash 
 it an' put it on to bile right away so's that it'll 
 have time to git firm cold. They's half a shoat 
 in the spring house, an' we'll wring the necks 
 o' some fryin'-size chickens to-night so's to 
 have 'em ready. Tomorry's the reg'lar twice 
 a week churnin' day, so's that they'll be fresh 
 butter an' plenty o' buttermilk ef the can- 
 didate happens to like buttermilk. I'll set a 
 bakin' o' bread tomorry mornin' so's we kin 
 have a hot loaf fer supper. As fer beat bis- 
 cuit an' batter bread, we kin make 'em when 
 the time comes. Say, Sapphiry, le's surprise 
 the candidate ! " 
 
 Judy uttered that sentence with enthusiasm 
 and with a smile on her face. A happy thought 
 had come to her. 
 
 " Tain't hog-killin' time yit, nor yit 'twon't 
 be fer more'n a month to come, an' so nobody 
 ain't seen no sassage sence last winter. Le's 
 make some, out'n the trimmin's o' that half a 
 
218 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 shoat! You an' me kin chop it an' season it 
 to-night an' it'll be extry superfine by supper 
 time to-morrow." 
 
 " Well, you certainly is a layin' yourself out 
 fer that there candidate, Mammy," said Sap- 
 phira in admiration of her mother's enthusi- 
 asm. " Is you a goin' to give him a chanst at 
 your old peach and honey? " 
 
 " What ! peach an' honey fer that miserable 
 wild mustard patch of a candidate ? Well, not 
 ef I see it fust. Apple jack he'll drink, an' 
 it'll come out o' that there bar'l as was made 
 out o' last year's windfalls an' cullin's, at that. 
 They ain't no fine flavor to that slop, but it'll 
 make drunk come just the same, an' I reckon 
 that's all a half breed like Webb's got any call 
 to expect o' liquor. The best o' victuals ain't 
 none too good fer anybody as sets down to 
 Judy Peters's table, but politeness an' liquor 
 goes by favor, an' I ain't got no favor to spare 
 fer that doggoned counterfeit-copper cuss, 
 Webb." 
 
 When Webb appeared, he found Judy ar- 
 rayed in colors that the lilies of the field never 
 dared assume and that Solomon in all his 
 
SATISFACTION OF WEBB 219 
 
 glory did not dream of. She had even put on 
 her bracelets and her breast pin of green glass, 
 simulating a setting of emeralds. She had 
 borrowed Sapphira's earrings great golden 
 hoops that had cost a dollar and a quarter 
 and was wearing them in honor of the occa- 
 sion. 
 
 Her gorgeousness of adornment and the 
 barbaric lavishness of the supper she served 
 him, convinced Webb at the outset that her 
 favor was altogether his, that the mountain 
 vote was secure, and that in spite of all alarms 
 his triumphant election was as certain as any 
 human event could be. Perhaps Judy had in- 
 tended to create that impression on his mind. 
 Certainly she did nothing to correct or remove 
 it, and by the time supper was over Webb was 
 so well satisfied with things as they were that 
 he did not hesitate to indulge freely in the 
 apple jack that Judy set out for his consump- 
 tion. 
 
 When she had got his tongue " loosened 
 up " to her liking, and not till then, she brought 
 the conversation around to subjects connected 
 with the political campaign. Webb had not 
 
220 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 ventured to introduce those subjects earlier. 
 His instinct was keen enough to realize that 
 in Judy Peters's house Judy Peters was herself 
 the director of the conversation, and he had 
 heard, till the fact was deeply impressed on his 
 mind, that the person who forced the talk into 
 channels of his own choosing was pretty sure 
 to find himself snubbed and snuffed out by 
 some caustic and high-flavored utterance of 
 her majesty the Queen of the Mountains. 
 
 " Tell me 'bout your campaign, William 
 Wilberforce Webb," she said after he had had 
 a third or fourth helping of apple jack. Then 
 she changed her mind or perhaps the change 
 had been in her mind all the while and said : 
 " No, don't bother 'bout that yit. Tell me, in- 
 stid o' that, what you's a luggin' all that name 
 around for. I s'pose when you was a boy they 
 called you jes' Billy Webb. Why ain't that 
 a good 'nough name for you now? You see 
 us folks up here in the mountings ain't got 
 much respec' nor patience like with names 
 bigger'n the men what wears 'em. They was 
 wunst a feller come up here what called his- 
 self James Augustus de Forrest Hyde, an' we 
 
SATISFACTION OF WEBB 221 
 
 run him out'n the mountings. He come back 
 arter a while a callin' hisself plain Jim Hyde, 
 an' he's been a breedin' mules successful, like, 
 ever since. You see when he fust come he 
 brought more name along than he could tote, 
 an' that's jest what you's a doin' with your 
 William Wilberforce Webb. It sounds well 
 down 'mong the stuck ups, but 'tain't no go up 
 here in the mountings. Us folks likes some- 
 thin' plainer somethin' like Boyd West- 
 over." 
 
 " Of course you're right, Judy," answered 
 Webb flinching a little at the name of his an- 
 tagonist, " but when a man's parents have 
 given him a long name what's he to do 
 but wear it? A man's name's a part of 
 him." 
 
 " Yes, an' it's that part us folks up here in 
 the mountings don't like. It's the fool part. 
 Why ain't ' W. W. Webb' a good enough 
 name fer a one-horse vehicle like you ? " 
 
 It was the epithet rather than the question 
 that staggered Webb, but that it did stagger 
 him was indicated to Judy's shrewd observa- 
 tion by the fact that he took three deep 
 
222 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 draughts of the apple brandy before answering. 
 At last he said: 
 
 " Well, you see, Judy " 
 
 " No, I don't see," she interrupted, " an' you 
 ain't a goin' to make me see sense in a thing 
 what ain't got no sense in it." 
 
 " I was going to say " he began again. 
 
 " Yes, I know you was. Never mind a 
 sayin' it. Listen to me. Ef I'm to help you 
 in your canvass up here in the mountings, you's 
 got to shorten your name somehow. Mind I 
 don't say Fs a goin' to help you," Judy's 
 sturdy love of truth in the abstract prompted 
 this qualification of what was essentially a lie 
 in the concrete " but ef Fm to help you, 
 you's got to give me a shorter name 'n William 
 Wilberforce Webb to call you by. You see 
 every time I try to say anything 'bout you my 
 mouth gits so choked up, like, with that durned 
 worm fence of a name that the rest o' the 
 words won't come out nohow." 
 
 " Fm sorry, Judy, awfully sorry that my 
 name offends you. Just call me Billy here- 
 after." 
 
 " That's all right for me," answered Judy, 
 
SATISFACTION OF WEBB 223 
 
 " but you was enominated by the name of 
 William Wilberforce Webb, an that's the way 
 it'll be wrote on the pollin' books. How's the 
 folks up here in the mountings to know as how 
 Billy Webb an' William Wilberforce Webb is 
 the same feller? The two don't sound much 
 alike. Howsomever we'll try an' manage that. 
 Now tell me 'bout how things is a goin' down 
 plantation ways." 
 
 In the embarrassment created by Judy's crit- 
 ical reflections upon his name, Webb had filled 
 his large tumbler again with the insidious in- 
 toxicant, forgetting to add water, and had 
 taken several swigs of the " reverend spirits," 
 which is what Virginians always called undi- 
 luted brandy or whiskey. Judy had observed 
 the fact but had not discouraged it. Her son, 
 Daniel Webster, was at home that night to put 
 Webb to bed if need be, and meanwhile she 
 wanted to find out from Webb's indiscretion 
 what she had no hope of learning in any other 
 way, namely, " all about the gal that's mixed 
 up in the matter." 
 
 To that end she interrupted Webb many 
 times, checking his tendency to indulge in 
 
224 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 generalities and holding him down to facts. 
 He told her how greatly Boyd Westover's in- 
 trusive nomination had disturbed what had 
 promised to be a " walk-over campaign " ; how 
 the refusal of Colonel Conway to sign Boyd's 
 nomination paper was exciting suspicion, and 
 much else of interest to which Judy paid no 
 heed. She harked back instead to the Conway 
 matter. 
 
 " What was the matter with Conway? " she 
 asked. " Has him an' young Westover had 
 any fallin' out?" 
 
 Webb had attained that condition of alco- 
 holic indiscretion in which the impulse is to be 
 confidential and to say things far better left 
 unsaid. He unbosomed himself. 
 
 " Well, you see, Judy," he said, " there are 
 some things we don't mention, but you're a 
 friend of mine, Judy, and you're entitled to 
 my confidence. You see it's this way. The 
 talk is that Boyd Westover and Colonel Con- 
 way's daughter Margaret were engaged to be 
 married, when Westover committed or was 
 accused of committing the crime of which he 
 was convicted and for which he was sentenced 
 
SATISFACTION OF WEBB 225 
 
 to the penitentiary. Some say she stood by 
 him and he threw her over ; some suggest that 
 he couldn't explain things to her satisfaction 
 that she asked him questions he couldn't an- 
 swer ; some say he went back to Wanalah eager 
 to marry the girl, and she threw him over 
 because she didn't believe in his innocence. 
 You see, Judy, he is, after all's said and done, 
 only a pardoned criminal, and his pardon was 
 based only on the confession of a poor de- 
 mented fellow who has since been sent to 
 Staunton as a lunatic. Anyhow it's plain that 
 Colonel Conway believes Boyd Westover to be 
 guilty, just as I do and as a good many other 
 folks down our way do. If he isn't guilty, 
 why's he hiding himself? Why don't he come 
 into the district and face the music, instead of 
 leaving that little monkey, Carley Farnsworth, 
 to do everything for him? You never saw 
 Carley Farnsworth, did you, Judy? Of 
 course you didn't. W r ell, he's a little jacka- 
 napes of a doctor that's equally ready to give 
 his blue pills by the mouth or at the point of 
 a pistol. Boyd Westover has put him forward 
 to overawe and intimidate everybody; but the 
 
226 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Democrats will hold their vote this year and 
 with your help, Judy, we'll make this election 
 memorable." 
 
 " I don't know jest what that last word 
 means, Billy, but after what you's been a tellin' 
 me you kin bet your next winter's meat I'll 
 have a hand in this here 'lection." 
 
 Judy never made promises that she did not 
 fulfil. But if a candidate misinterpreted the 
 phrases she used in making promises, she 
 stoutly held that the fault was his and not 
 hers. 
 
 " My words is good for what they call fer," 
 she was accustomed to say, " but good money 
 don't stand fer no counterfeits." 
 
 When she had got all she wanted out of 
 Webb, she sent that worthy to bed, satisfied 
 in his soul with things as they were, and as 
 confident of the mountain vote in his behalf 
 as of the excellence of Judy's cookery and the 
 exhilaration that resided in her apple jack. 
 
XXI 
 
 FLAGS FLYING 
 
 JUDY was right in her reckoning as to the 
 effect of her blind message upon the mood 
 and movements of Boyd Westover. It 
 was not far from midnight when Theonidas 
 reported what his mother had said, and al- 
 though the night was one of extreme darkness 
 and a drizzling rain was falling, Boyd West- 
 over set out at once to stumble down the pre- 
 cipitous mountain path to the scarcely less pre- 
 cipitous mountain road three miles away, and 
 thence down, down, down, to whatever level 
 the road might ultimately reach. 
 
 As he had never journeyed over that road 
 before, and as its perils by night were very 
 real and very great, Theonidas besought him 
 to postpone the start until the dawn, but he 
 refused to heed, and bidding the boy transfer 
 the camp equipments to Judy Peters' s house, 
 227 
 
228 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 to await orders, set off with the energy of a 
 madman. Yet he had never been saner in all 
 his life or in better condition to meet difficulty. 
 
 The delphic character of Judy's message left 
 him, of course, in doubt as to the occasion of 
 the talk about himself and to his detriment in 
 his own neighborhood, but from the first he 
 had not a shadow of doubt as to the substance 
 and subject of that talk. He knew without 
 telling that his fellow men had found some oc- 
 casion he could not guess what for dis- 
 cussing his character and conduct and for re- 
 calling to his disadvantage his conviction of 
 crime, his pardon and all the rest of it. 
 
 But he faced this sort of thing now in very 
 different mood from that which had been his 
 a few weeks before. Where before his impulse 
 had been to shrink away from the horror, his 
 mood now was to seek it out, to dare it, to 
 defy it, to fight it with all the determination 
 of a vigorous manhood aroused to self defence 
 and not averse to vengeance. Where before 
 he had instinctively sought solitude as a refuge, 
 his impulse now was to seek the haunts of his 
 fellow men, to challenge the criticism that had 
 
FLAGS FLYING 229 
 
 before so appalled him, to face the world with 
 head erect and dare Fate to meet him hand to 
 hand, foot to foot, eye to eye in combat. 
 
 The simple fact was that he had ceased to 
 be morbid. In his life up there among the 
 mountain tops he had regained his health of 
 mind and body. In his contests with Nature's 
 forces and his triumph over them in a thousand 
 petty ways, he had become normal again. He 
 was no longer the introspective, morbidly self- 
 conscious victim of adverse circumstance that 
 Judy Peters had found him to be, but a strong 
 man rejoicing in his strength, a Westover of 
 Wanalah who shrank from no danger and 
 blanched in no foe's presence. He tramped 
 down the mountain through six or seven hours 
 of darkness in eager quest of those malignities 
 from which he had before sought escape in a 
 refuge of solitude. He wanted now to hear 
 and combat the criticism from the very thought 
 of which he had before been moved to flee in 
 something like terror. 
 
 It was in this mood that he encountered the 
 first news of what had happened. It presented 
 itself in the shape of one of Carley Farns- 
 
2 3 o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 worth's nominating placards, tacked to the 
 great hewn log posts of a gate that spanned 
 the road, and Westover, after nearly twenty 
 miles of tramping, came upon it about sunrise. 
 He could not imagine what to make of it, and 
 after a minute's consideration he dismissed it 
 as somebody's practical joke a part perhaps 
 of that " devil to pay " in his own neighbor- 
 hood of which Judy Peters had sent him 
 warning. 
 
 But as he continued his journey he found 
 the thing repeated on every gatepost, on every 
 conspicuous tree by the roadside, and all over 
 the front of a blacksmith's shop which he had 
 to pass. 
 
 There was nobody in the shop to answer 
 questions at that early hour, but at that point 
 the road forked, one arm of it leading to Wa- 
 nalah and the other to Chinquapin Knob, the 
 home of Carley Farnsworth. It was only three 
 miles from that point to Wanalah, and it was 
 full five miles to Chinquapin Knob, but, weary 
 as his legs ought to have been and were not, 
 after his twenty odd miles of tramping over 
 rough roads, he turned his face not toward 
 
FLAGS FLYING 231 
 
 Wanalah but in the opposite direction, resolv- 
 ing to take breakfast with Carley Farnsworth 
 at Chinquapin Knob. He quickened his pace 
 too, after a glance at his watch. 
 
 " It's half-past six," he said to himself, " and 
 Carley has the barbaric habit of breakfasting at 
 eight. I must do the five miles in an hour and 
 a half, if I don't want a breakfast of leftovers, 
 and this morning I don't." 
 
 As he trudged on up a glutinous red clay 
 hill road, it began to rain again in dismal fash- 
 ion, but the fact did not depress him. 
 
 " It'll make the clay road soapy," he re- 
 flected, " so I must put a little more vim into 
 my leg motions if I'm to do the trick on time." 
 
 With that he added ten or a dozen steps per 
 minute to his pace and thought no more about 
 the matter. 
 
 Boyd Westover was himself again. That 
 was all. 
 
 Tree after tree, as he passed on, confronted 
 him with a repetition of the announcement that 
 " We the undersigned, deeming it desirable 
 that," etc., etc., " hereby nominate Boyd West- 
 over, Esq., of Wanalah, for election as the 
 
232 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 representative of this Senate district in the 
 upper house of the Legislature, and we appeal 
 to the pride and patriotism of our friends, 
 fellow citizens and neighbors," and so on to 
 the end of the chapter of Carley Farnsworth's 
 free flowing rhetoric. Westover did not pause 
 to look at any of them. There was no need. 
 He had already learned what the placards pro- 
 claimed, and he had already observed the con- 
 spicuous absence of Colonel Conway's name 
 from the list of those who thus urged his elec- 
 tion. He could no more guess the meaning of 
 its absence than others had been able to do, 
 but he was not surprised by the fact. In view 
 of Colonel Conway's failure to call upon him 
 during the days of his late stay at Wanalah, 
 he would have been astonished if that gentle- 
 man's name had appeared on the paper. But 
 his mood was not now what it had been before. 
 He was no longer disposed to be submissive 
 even to Fate, or to reconcile himself to its un- 
 just decrees. As he strode onward at the pace 
 he had set himself he reflected : 
 
 " Of course Colonel Conway was under no 
 obligation to call upon me, except the obliga- 
 
FLAGS FLYING 233 
 
 tion of old friendship, and that he was free to 
 regard as cancelled, if he chose. And of 
 course he was under no obligation to sign that 
 nominating paper, if he did not wish. But he 
 knew that his failure to call upon me was a 
 conspicuous neglect to which others would at- 
 tach importance, and he knew that his refusal 
 to sign the paper would be everywhere inter- 
 preted as an accusation that must put shame 
 upon me. I have a right to demand a greater 
 explicitness of accusation, and I will. His 
 silence does me a greater hurt than any other 
 man's utterance could. I have a right to chal- 
 lenge it on the ground of its injustice. I have 
 a right to insist that he shall speak, and I will 
 make that demand and enforce it." 
 
 Obviously Boyd Westover had recovered his 
 vigor and was again fit to call himself by the 
 name his forebears had borne for generations 
 past Westover of Wanalah a name which 
 in that community had always stood for viril- 
 ity, courage and uncompromising honor; a 
 name that had meant secure peace to those who 
 deserved peace and quick war to those who 
 were hostilely disposed; a name that had al- 
 
234 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 ways represented what is best in manhood, 
 both in its tenderly forbearing gentleness of 
 impulse and its relentless strength of purpose. 
 
 As he approached Chinquapin Knob the evi- 
 dences of his candidacy rapidly multiplied. 
 The outer gate of Carley Farnsworth's planta- 
 tion was plastered all over with the nomination 
 placards, and as the house came into view Boyd 
 saw a great flagstaff there carrying in the 
 breeze three long tailed streamers on which, 
 as he presently made out, were inscribed the 
 legends : 
 
 " For Senator Boyd Westover ! " 
 
 " Vote for a Gentleman ! " 
 
 " Westover of Wanalah!" 
 
 " I don't understand it," Westover reflected 
 as he climbed the last hill and saw by a glance 
 at his watch that he was a quarter of an hour 
 ahead of his scheduled time, " I don't under- 
 stand it, but obviously I'm a candidate for 
 Senator and with equal obviousness I'm in 
 for a fight if I am to win. So much the better. 
 I don't care a fig about the Senatorship, but 
 Fll enjoy the fight. I'm in the mood for it. 
 And besides I like to win the game, whatever 
 
FLAGS FLYING 235 
 
 the stake may be. I'll fight for this election 
 as I never fought for anything before in my 
 life. I wonder who the other fellow is, anyhow 
 my opponent ? " 
 
 Clearly his twenty-five mile walk, made be- 
 tween midnight and breakfast time, had not 
 robbed Boyd Westover of any of the vigor of 
 mind and temper that were his by inheritance 
 and that the mountains had given back to him. 
 
 " I'm almost famished," he said to himself. 
 " It suddenly occurs to me that I was out after 
 a catamount last night and forgot all about my 
 supper. I wonder if Carley has a roe herring 
 for my breakfast. Anyhow he'll have a lot of 
 other good things." 
 
 As he finished his wondering he entered the 
 house grounds at Chinquapin Knob, and Carley 
 Farnsworth, who was smoking his before- 
 breakfast pipe in the porch, caught sight of 
 him. 
 
 Their greetings and questions were like shots 
 from a rapid fire gun, an implement of slaugh- 
 ter which had not then been invented by the 
 devilish ingenuity of greed in the service of 
 murder. 
 
236 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Out of the cross fire Carley Farnsworth 
 managed to extract the information that his 
 friend had been tramping since midnight with 
 a stomach empty since noon of the preceding 
 day. 
 
 " Good ! " he exclaimed. " Excellent ! 
 You're altogether fit. You're in shape or you 
 never could have done that. But I won't an- 
 swer any question you can conceivably ask " 
 for Boyd had already begun a clamorous cate- 
 chism as to what it all meant " until we've 
 had breakfast and a pipe. Enos ! " addressing 
 a negro boy, " go to the kitchen and tell Elsie 
 there'll be a lot of trouble at Chinquapin Knob 
 if breakfast isn't on the table in five minutes, 
 do you hear? " 
 
 " Now tell me, Carley, what all this means," 
 pleaded Westover. 
 
 " I'll do nothing of the kind until after 
 breakfast," answered the other. " I'm a doc- 
 tor you know, and I have the honor to be the 
 family physician at Wanalah. By the way, 
 Boyd, you've got three cases of typhoid in your 
 lower quarters, and as I suspected the well 
 I've ordered it filled up, and the negroes down 
 
FLAGS FLYING 237 
 
 there are carrying their water half a mile or 
 so. That isn't what I wanted to talk about. 
 As your family physician I have your health 
 in charge. You're in superb condition now, 
 and it's my business to keep you so. You've 
 made a long tramp on an empty stomach a 
 very unwise thing to do, but as a doctor I'm 
 used to that sort of thing. There wouldn't 
 be any serious work for us doctors to do, if 
 people generally were wise. But you've made 
 a tremendous draft upon your bank account 
 of vigor, and it is time for you to make a de- 
 posit to keep the account good. You need 
 breakfast, before you burden your mind even 
 with anything I have to say. And by the way, 
 Johnny is bringing in the breakfast two whole 
 minutes before the time. There's the loaf of 
 hot light bread, and the roe herrings and the 
 biscuits and the batter bread. There's a cold 
 ham on the dresser and the batter cakes or 
 waffles or something of that kind will come in 
 later. Kizzy, my housekeeper, is making the 
 coffee; she always does that the last thing in 
 order that it may be fresh. She frequently 
 utters the dictum, * Coffee ain't no good ef 
 
238 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 you don't drink it while the aromatics is in it.' 
 I don't know where she got that word, but 
 there is always a supply of delicious ' aroma- 
 tics ' in Kizzy's coffee. Come. Here's a cold 
 jowl if you care for it, and there's sausage 
 before you, and liver and chidlings you see 
 I killed half my hogs the other day. Eat your 
 breakfast and make it a good one. If you 
 don't I'll refuse to tell you any of the interest- 
 ing things you're so anxious to hear about." 
 
XXII 
 
 AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE 
 
 WHEN the breakfast was over and, 
 with long-stemmed pipes alight, the 
 two friends foregathered in front of 
 a blazing fire for the drizzling autumn day 
 was chill Westover again demanded to 
 know " what all this thing means." 
 
 " You must have seen some of the plac- 
 ards?" 
 
 "Some of them? It seems to me that all 
 the woods have been papered with them. But 
 what does it mean? " 
 
 " Oh, that's obvious enough. It means that 
 a goodly number of your neighbors and friends 
 have nominated you for Senator, moved thereto 
 by a conviction that the intelligence and char- 
 acter of the district deserve a better represent- 
 ative than William Wilberforce Webb." 
 Farnsworth was careful not to suggest Judy 
 239 
 
24 o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Peters's initiative or interest in the matter. 
 That was a secret between him and her. 
 
 The mention of Webb's name as that of his 
 opponent, started Westover out of his chair, 
 and as he stood upon the hearth he said, in 
 tones that were kept in subjection by sheer 
 force of a resolute will : 
 
 " Oh, then it is Webb I'm running against. 
 That puts a new face on the affair. I like that. 
 Against him I'll make a whirlwind campaign. 
 But how on earth did that fellow manage to 
 secure a nomination by so respectable a party 
 as the Whigs?" 
 
 " Chiefly by general neglect. He worked for 
 the nomination and all the rest of us Jet it go 
 to him by default. That's the substance of the 
 story." 
 
 " Well," answered Westover, " the news that 
 he is my opponent gives me a new and eager 
 interest in the campaign. We'll get up squir- 
 rel stews and barbecues, late as the season 
 is, and militia musters and every other kind of 
 thing that draws men together, and I'll make 
 my little, red hot speech at all of them. Is 
 there anything in sight ? " 
 
AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE 241 
 
 " Nothing available, so far as your presence 
 is concerned. This is Court day, of course, 
 and I'm going to make a speech - 
 
 " So am I," interjected Westover. 
 
 "But how can you? You've tramped all 
 night and I've ordered a bath and a bed for 
 you." 
 
 " Thank you sincerely. I'll enjoy the bath 
 and the bed some other time. To-day I'm go- 
 ing to the Court House with you. I'll ride 
 one of your plugs, if you don't mind, and may 
 be you'll send a boy over to Wanalah with a 
 note to my overseer. I want him to send a 
 horse to the Court House to meet me a real 
 horse that I'll have a fight with every time I 
 come to a gate." 
 
 Carley Farnsworth did not answer immedi- 
 ately. Instead he walked into the dining room 
 under pretence of refilling his pipe really for 
 the sake of a good chuckle over his friend's 
 condition. 
 
 " He's as fit as a fiddle," he said to himself. 
 " He's full of vigor and full of fight. He's 
 Westover of Wanalah again, and that's what 
 I've been working for. That mountain air, 
 
242 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 and the hunting and fishing and rough tramp- 
 ing have done more for him than all the calo- 
 mel, quinine and strychnine I've got in my 
 saddle bags could do. It's great! And we'll 
 crown the cure Judy and I by making 
 him Senator. Really Judy is a great diagnos- 
 tician in her way. It was she who found out 
 what was the matter with Boyd and prescribed 
 the remedy. I used to think she had only one 
 medicine, that apple jack was her panacea. I 
 know better now." 
 
 Then, with his pipe refilled, he returned to 
 the parlor only to find it empty. Going to the 
 porch he saw Westover astride a three-year- 
 old filly that had been turned loose to graze in 
 the house grounds. Without saddle or bridle 
 the young man was gaily cavorting on the 
 spirited mare's back and rapidly reconciling her 
 to control of his will. 
 
 " Well, certainly he's fit," muttered the little 
 doctor. " There aren't many men in Virginia 
 who would prefer that sort of thing to a com- 
 fortable bed after an all night's tramp down a 
 mountain side, over the roughest roads that 
 adverse natural conditions, supplemented by the 
 
AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE 243 
 
 evil ingenuity of road supervisors, ever man- 
 aged to create. Houp la! I'll dismiss him as 
 cured. But we'll go on and elect him." 
 
 Then, as the negro boy for whom he had 
 sent appeared, Farnsworth called out : 
 
 " I say, Boyd, I've a boy waiting for you 
 here. Come and give him instructions." 
 
 And when Westover reached the steps, his 
 host added : 
 
 " Sam may as well bring your horse to the 
 Court House himself. It is hardly at all out 
 of his way in coming back. So give him your 
 instructions." 
 
 " Very well. Go to my overseer, Sam, and 
 tell him to send Rob Roy to me by you. And 
 mind you, you are to lead him. If you try 
 to ride him he'll pitch you head first into the 
 deepest mud puddle he can find, and then he'll 
 go galloping home again. Tell the overseer 
 to put the double-bitted snaffle and curb bridle 
 on him and the lightest flat saddle in the sta- 
 bles. And mind, Sam, keep the stirrups 
 crossed over the saddle. If you don't, Rob 
 Roy will mount himself and ride away heaven 
 knows where." 
 
244 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Yes, sir/' answered Sam. " I hear, an' 
 I'll be keerful. I prides myself on ridin' any- 
 thing they is short'n a hurricane, but Fs con- 
 tumaciously opposed to gittin' on the back o' 
 that there Rob Roy o' yourn. He's wuss'n a 
 hurricane an' a' earthquake an' a 'clipse o' de 
 moon all put togedder. Dat's my jedgment 
 o' his pussonal character generally. He's wuss 
 now, o' course." 
 
 "Why, Sam?" 
 
 1 'Cause he's done been stabled up fer free 
 or four months, now, 'thout no exercise 'ceptin' 
 bein' led to de branch fer water." 
 
 " Do you know that, Sam ? Have they kept 
 that horse " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I knows it. Yo' see dey ain't 
 nobody on Wanalah plantation da* dares git 
 on dat dar hoss's back, an' 'taint much fun to 
 exercise a hoss by leadin' of him. 'Sides 
 dat " 
 
 Sam faltered, and his master interposed: 
 
 " Go on 'sides what." 
 
 " Well, 'taint nothin', sir." 
 
 " All right. I like to hear about nothings. 
 Who is she, Sam?" 
 
AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE 245 
 
 "Who's who, Mastah?" 
 
 " Why, the girl you've been courting over 
 at Wanalah? Of course I know you've been 
 stealing a mule out of the stables and riding 
 over there every night for a month without 
 asking my permission. But I don't know who 
 the girl is or whether she's worthy of you, 
 Sam." 
 
 " 'Fore de Lawd, Mastah, I ain't " 
 
 " Don't forswear yourself, Sam. I know 
 all about it. I visit my stables every night, 
 and I've missed you and the mule. I don't 
 mind, only, if you had asked me, I'd have let 
 you have a better mule and a saddle. Never 
 mind that now. Take the mare Medora, and 
 get away from here. Bring your Mas' Boyd's 
 horse to the Court House, and mind you, don't 
 stop at Wanalah to sweetheart with Patty 
 Jane for you see after all I know all about 
 this thing." 
 
 " And Sam, tell my body servant to send 
 me some clothes by you," added Westover. 
 
 When the boy had gone, in some confusion 
 over what seemed to him his master's super- 
 natural knowledge of things he had carefully 
 
246 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 guarded against discovery, Farnsworth ex- 
 plained to his companion : 
 
 " I always take pains to know what goes 
 on on the plantation, and I never mention it 
 except in sensational ways, calculated to im- 
 press the African mind with the conviction 
 that as a doctor I am possessed of strange, 
 occult powers of discovery against which it is 
 useless to practise the ordinary arts of con- 
 cealment. It's a handy way to keep things 
 in order on a plantation, the master of which 
 has to attend to a medical practice. Now we 
 must be off. Here are our horses. I've as- 
 signed to your use the maddest piece of horse- 
 flesh I possess. It's a mare that broke my 
 overseer's arm a year ago, and when harnessed 
 to a vehicle for purposes of subjugation and 
 discipline kicked the vehicle into kindling 
 wood and scrap iron and then kept on kick- 
 ing till there was nothing left on her but a 
 collar. She'd have kicked that off too, I 
 reckon, if it had been behind her shoulders. 
 She has been a good deal tamed since then, 
 but she still has spirit enough to satisfy any 
 reasonable rider. You, of course, are unrea- 
 
AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE 247 
 
 sonable. What's your fancy anyhow, Boyd, 
 for riding cataclysms and cyclones instead of 
 serious-minded animals that know their busi- 
 ness and do it docilely? " 
 
 " Oh I don't know. I like struggle, con- 
 test, and all that. I like to match my wits 
 against brute strength. I like well I sup- 
 pose I like a fight." 
 
 As he spoke the two mounted. 
 
 " There's no trace of neurasthenia in him, 
 anyhow," thought Farnsworth. Aloud he 
 said: 
 
 " All that is very fortunate, for just now 
 you've got all the fight ahead of you that any 
 reasonable person of fighting temperament 
 could desire." 
 
 "Tell me all about it, Carley. I've been 
 trying to worm the facts out of you ever since 
 I got to Chinquapin Knob." 
 
 " Oh, the thing's simple enough. You see 
 Webb hates you of course, and he's afraid of 
 you. When he secured the regular nomina- 
 tion he thought he had his fox by the tail. 
 There was only the Democratic candidate, 
 Sam Butler, opposing him, and of course in 
 
248 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 so strong a Whig district as this is, that can- 
 didacy didn't count. But when we nominated 
 you as an independent Whig, things began to 
 cloud up in Webb's sky. He got ugly, but 
 well, he was made to understand that there 
 were limits to what it would be safe to say 
 about you." 
 
 " I understand, Carley," said Boyd, grasp- 
 ing his hand warmly ; " I understand, and I 
 thank you from the bottom of my heart for a 
 friendship that has no bottom so far as plum- 
 met line can discover. But all that's my job 
 now. Go on, I want to hear." 
 
 " Well, he hasn't dared say a thing in any 
 open fashion, but there are a lot of his fol- 
 lowers whom no gentleman can afford to 
 honor by slapping their jaws or kicking them 
 off the steps of a barroom, and through them 
 Webb has managed to circulate insinuations." 
 
 " Of what sort ? " asked Westover quickly. 
 
 " It isn't easy to pin them down to a defi- 
 nition. They have mainly taken the form of 
 questions. * Where is Boyd Westover, any- 
 how? Why doesn't he present himself to the 
 people he asks to vote for him? What's he 
 
AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE 249 
 
 afraid of? Why didn't his oldest and best 
 friend Colonel Conway sign the paper nom- 
 inating him? Does Colonel Conway doubt 
 his innocence after all ? Isn't he satisfied with 
 the other fellow's confession? Or does he 
 think the confession of a lunatic insufficient? ' 
 These are some of the questions set afloat, 
 nobody knows how or by whom." 
 
 "What are the others?" demanded West- 
 over with set teeth and a jaw that seemed to 
 have added to its massiveness by reason of the 
 determination of the mind behind it. " Go 
 on. Tell me the whole story. I want to know 
 just what I have got to fight." 
 
 " That's right, and I'll be with you in the 
 fight. We'll run these questions down till we 
 make it unsafe to ask them. I've already 
 made a good many people quit asking them 
 by notifying them that I should treat any 
 repetition of the questions as an assertion for 
 which the questioner could be and should be 
 and would be held responsible ; confound that 
 grammar rule about can and will and could 
 and should and would, I never could remem- 
 ber it, but I've given notice to all and singular 
 
250 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 that I recognize no distinction between insin- 
 uation and assertion in such a case as this, and 
 that oh, well, you know what a notice of 
 that kind suggests." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know, and I thank you. But 
 you're evading my question, Carley. What 
 is the other insinuation? I quite understand 
 that you shrink from mentioning it, but you 
 must. I have a right to demand that much 
 from a friendship so loyal as yours has proved 
 itself to be. Go on. Tell me the worst." 
 
 " I will. But the thing has been so sub- 
 tilely put forth that I've found it impossible 
 even to find anybody who has asked the ques- 
 tion. Indeed everybody who has helped to 
 circulate the slander has done so not by ask- 
 ing if there was truth in it but by declaring 
 his utter disbelief in it. I never knew any- 
 thing so cleverly managed in my life, or any- 
 thing so malignant." 
 
 " You haven't yet told me what the scandal 
 was," said Boyd, with lips so tightly com- 
 pressed that the purple had all gone out of 
 them. 
 
 " In substance it amounted to this, that you 
 
AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE 251 
 
 had in some way treated Colonel Conway's 
 daughter with unchivalrous disrespect that 
 you had put some unforgivable slight upon 
 her nobody suggests what. In fact the 
 thing is so vague and shadowy and unsub- 
 stantial that it is difficult even to define it. 
 But Colonel Conway's refusal to join with us 
 in nominating you has lent a sort of color to 
 it, and this thing, utterly unsubstantial as it 
 is, has done more than all else to embarrass 
 our campaign. In your absence it has been 
 impossible to meet it and throttle it, for no- 
 body but you could have a shadow of author- 
 ity to question Colonel Conway on such a 
 subject." 
 
 " I understand," answered Boyd; " I'll deal 
 with that matter in a way that will satisfy 
 myself at any rate, and possibly my friends 
 also. Thank you for all. I know the situa- 
 tion now, and knowing it, I think I know how 
 to meet it." 
 
 As he said this the pair were entering the 
 Court House village, and their road took 
 them within a few feet of the house and law 
 office of Sam Butler, the Democratic candi- 
 
252 WESTOVER OF W ANAL AH 
 
 date for Senator. As they passed, Butler 
 stepped out into the porch accompanied by 
 Edgar Coffey, and engaged in the earnest end 
 of a conversation. They could not avoid 
 hearing Coffey say: 
 
 " Well, that's what Judy tole me to tell you, 
 an' ef you do as she says, she'll take keer o' 
 the rest." 
 
 Neither Westover nor Farnsworth said a 
 word until they had passed well beyond hear- 
 ing. Then Westover exclaimed : 
 
 " I wonder what on earth that means ! 
 Surely Judy Peters isn't going to throw the 
 mountain vote for him." 
 
 " Very certainly not," answered Farnsworth, 
 but he said nothing of his visit to the Queen 
 of the Mountains or of her initiative in Boyd 
 Westover's nomination. 
 
 " No," answered Westover, recalling Judy's 
 last message to himself, " that isn't even one 
 of the possibilities." But he did not explain 
 the grounds of his confidence. 
 
 After a little, as the two rode into the stable 
 yard of the hotel to put up their horses, West- 
 over said : 
 
AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE 253 
 
 " Nevertheless I'd give something handsome 
 to know what that meant." 
 
 " So would I," answered Farnsworth. 
 
 They were destined to find out, before the 
 campaign ended, but not yet. 
 
XXIII 
 
 COURT DAY 
 
 COURT Day in old Virginia was an in- 
 stitution. It happened once a month 
 and it served all the purposes of club, 
 exchange, political assemblage, muster, and 
 social meeting time. Pretty nearly the whole 
 adult male population of the county was sure to 
 be present at the county seat on that day, so 
 that the Virginian who wanted to see anybody, 
 whether to collect a note or give one, to make 
 a contract or to cancel one, to arrange a re- 
 ligious meeting or a barbecue, to trade horses 
 or to exchange views concerning the latest 
 philosophy, to make speeches or to listen to 
 them, was sure to find present the people who 
 were in any way related to the matter he had 
 in hand. Those leisurely folk never thought 
 of bothering themselves to visit anybody on 
 254 
 
COURT DAY 255 
 
 business. Whatever the business was, it could 
 wait until Court Day, and it did. 
 
 Sometimes there was political speaking or 
 the like on Court Day, but not always. The 
 orators had need of an audience, and if there 
 was anything of interest going on in Court, 
 everybody was sure to be there and the orators 
 had nobody to address. 
 
 It was so on this occasion. It was a quar- 
 terly Court a grand jury term of the County 
 Court and there was a murder trial of sen- 
 sational character in progress. As a result 
 everybody who could find a square foot of 
 space within the Court room, in which to 
 bestow his person, sought place there the 
 moment the Court opened, and held it tena- 
 ciously throughout the session. The struggle 
 for place was all the greater because Jack 
 Towns, just returned from his Rocky Moun- 
 tain trip, was present as attorney and coun- 
 sellor for the accused man, and Jack Towns's 
 eloquence was something that everybody 
 wanted to hear. Besides that, his skill in con- 
 fusing a witness and reducing him to pulp was 
 something that nobody wanted to miss. Jack 
 
256 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 was a lawyer whose equipment lacked little of 
 perfection. His learning was adequate, his 
 sagacity almost preternatural, and when he 
 had a case to conduct the Commonwealth's At- 
 torney was in a tremor of blue funk from the 
 beginning, the Judge was alertly mindful lest 
 his judgment should be unduly swayed by per- 
 suasive eloquence, and the populace was in the 
 humor that possesses an audience when a great 
 star and a great company are to present a great 
 drama or tragedy or comedy as the case may 
 be. 
 
 Jack was too deeply engaged with " the 
 work of saving a human life," as he said, to 
 talk for more than half a minute with West- 
 over, when the two met at the stables of the 
 inn. 
 
 " I'm going to Wanalah for the night," he 
 said. " Then and there we can talk. At pres- 
 ent I have only time to tell you that you are, 
 three times over, the richest man in Virginia 
 and that your wealth includes a practically 
 limitless supply of ready money. I haven't 
 time now to tell you more, but I tell you this 
 in the interest of your campaign. Give all the 
 
COURT DAY 257 
 
 jamborees you think of; let the money flow 
 like water, and I'll take care of the results." 
 
 " But, Jack, I'm not buying my election, 
 and " 
 
 " Of course not. I understand all that. I 
 only want you to know that for legitimate ex- 
 pense your bank account is ample. Now I 
 must go. I've a human life in my hands. I'll 
 be with you at Wanalah to-night. Go home 
 when you get ready. I'll be there when I can. 
 So long." 1 
 
 In Virginia in those old, sunny days, hospi- 
 tality was taken for granted in that confident 
 fashion, and the welcome always justified the 
 assumption. 
 
 But before the court was opened, and during 
 its noon recess, which was shortened to three- 
 quarters of an hour because of the importance 
 of the case at bar, Boyd Westover found it 
 difficult to move about, because of the besetting 
 
 1 The expression "so long," as here used, is not an 
 anachronism. It was in use in Virginia, and in well 
 nigh universal use in South Carolina before the war. 
 Its adoption at the North came much later, I believe. 
 Mr. James Russell Lowell once suggested to me that 
 it might be a corruption of " salaam." AUTHOR. 
 
258 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 eagerness of his friends to greet him. In an- 
 swer to questions he frequently repeated a little 
 impromptu speech. 
 
 " I was in utter ignorance of my nomination 
 until I saw placards this morning. I haven't 
 even yet found out what it means, and I really 
 care nothing for the place. I'd far rather stay 
 at Wanalah and look after my affairs. But as 
 my friends have nominated me I'm a candidate 
 and I shall stay in the race till the polls close 
 on election day. I learn that some persons 
 I don't know who have been suggesting 
 things to my detriment. I am here to ask 
 about that, to challenge every insinuation 
 against my character and every criticism of my 
 conduct. I stand ready to answer. I ask only 
 that those who seek to injure me shall come 
 out into the open, make themselves known and 
 put their accusations into definite form so that 
 they may be met and either refuted or estab- 
 lished. I don't relish attacks in the dark or 
 from behind masks, and I am going to make 
 known my opinion of the sneaks and cowards 
 who make such attacks. I'm going to attend 
 every gathering of my fellow citizens between 
 

 COURT DAY 259 
 
 now and election day, and at every one of them 
 I'm going to challenge any and every body as 
 I do now, who has aught to say against my 
 character or my conduct to say it openly like a 
 man. If any one does that, I shall reply in 
 such fashion as I think appropriate in each 
 case. I stand before the community as West- 
 over of Wanalah, a man conscious of his own 
 rectitude and prepared to vindicate the honor 
 of the name he bears at all times, against all 
 comers and at all hazards. That is all I have 
 to say, and it ought to be enough to satisfy 
 honorable men and to silence sneaks and slan- 
 derers/' 
 
 So far as the men of honest mind who were 
 gathered together that day were concerned, this 
 challenge seemed abundantly satisfying. Many 
 who had entertained doubts because of the can- 
 didate's absence, abandoned their doubts and 
 frankly declared their purpose to support 
 Westover at the election. As for Webb and 
 his friends, they found themselves sorely em- 
 barrassed. Their opportunity had lain in 
 Westover's unexplained absence. His appear- 
 ance now, and his frank and manly challenge, 
 
2<5o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 robbed them of their weapons and their ammu- 
 nition. They dared not say aught that might 
 be construed into an accusation, and if any of 
 them insinuated aught to Westover's discredit 
 he was sure of a peremptory challenge to say 
 just what he meant. 
 
 It was obvious to Webb and his supporters 
 that something must be done to meet and neu- 
 tralize the effect of Boyd Westover's presence 
 and defiance. They still had " regularity " 
 behind them. Webb was the regularly nomi- 
 nated candidate of the Whig party, strongly 
 dominant in that region, and presumably he 
 would receive the regular party vote. Then, 
 too, as he explained to his partisans, most of 
 the Democrats, who would of course support 
 their own party candidate, were men friendly 
 to Westover, whose votes were so many sub- 
 tracted from the support that would otherwise 
 be his. 
 
 " I regard Sam Butler's candidacy as a thing 
 altogether in my interest," he said confidently, 
 " and then," he jubilantly added, " I have sat- 
 isfactory assurance that the whole mountain 
 vote will be mine, and so I regard my election 
 
COURT DAY 261 
 
 as a foregone conclusion, a triumphant assur- 
 ance of a future that holds human affairs se- 
 curely within its grasp." 
 
 That was a phrase dear to Webb's soul. 
 He had spent half a night in concocting it 
 and committing it to memory. " You 
 know I've been up in the mountains, and I've 
 been royally entertained by Her Majesty the 
 Queen." 
 
 " Has she definitely promised you the moun- 
 tain vote ? " asked one who had a passion for 
 exactitude. 
 
 " Practically, yes. You know Judy Peters 
 talks in parables and never commits herself; 
 but a wink is as good as a nod to a blind horse, 
 and her parting words to me left nothing of 
 assurance to be desired. Now what I want 
 to say is this: My election is secure, but I 
 want my constituency to include as large a pro- 
 portion of the planters, men of my own class, 
 as possible, and so I have accepted Sam But- 
 ler's challenge to meet him and divide time 
 at the Barbecue he's going to give over at 
 Fighting Creek, the day after to-morrow. I 
 suppose Westover will be there by Sam's invi- 
 
262 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 tation, and between Sam and me he won't be 
 left a leg to stand on/' 
 
 " Well, may be so," muttered Foggy, whose 
 experience in politics had bred chronic scepti- 
 cism in his mind ; " but Boyd Westover has 
 been talkin' right out in meetin' to-day, an' 
 besides " 
 
 "What is it, Foggy?" 
 
 " Well, Jack Towns is here, you know, an' 
 if he happens to make a speech over there he'll 
 tangle you up like a 'fish-line after you've 
 caught an eel on it." 
 
 " I'm not afraid of him," answered Webb, 
 confidently. 
 
 " So much the worse," muttered Foggy. 
 " Maybe he wouldn't do you up so badly if 
 you were properly afraid of him. However, 
 we must take things as we find 'em, and candi- 
 dates likewise, and I'll be over at Fighting 
 Creek with a lot o' fellows to shout for you, 
 Webb." 
 
 When Court opened and everybody made a 
 rush for places in the court house, Boyd strolled 
 over to the inn whose proprietor insisted upon 
 calling it a hotel, and, going to the room he 
 
COURT DAY 263 
 
 had taken there for the day, threw himself 
 upon the bed for a sleep of two or three hours. 
 At the end of that time he arose refreshed, 
 took a cold sponge bath, and proceeded to 
 change his rough mountain costume for the 
 more conventional garments his body servant 
 had sent him from Wanalah. After the fash- 
 ion of the time and country, these consisted of 
 a " pleated bosom " shirt, a damask silk vest, 
 a long tailed broadcloth coat, a pair of " doe- 
 skin " trousers, white socks with silken clocks, 
 and a pair of " low quarter " shoes with broad 
 silken ties. It was certain that before mount- 
 ing his horse again for the journey to Wa- 
 nalah, Boyd Westover would shed the shoes 
 at any rate and don his high-topped boots in- 
 stead, but for the present he felt a social obli- 
 gation upon him to dress conventionally; for 
 he had found at the hotel a note from Major 
 Magister, the leader of the bar, saying : 
 
 " Of course you'll dine with me at four 
 o'clock, Westover. The Judge will be present, 
 and I hope Jack Towns and the Common- 
 wealth's Attorney also, prepared to reconcile 
 the differences created by this trial, and become 
 
264 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 friends again. But none of these is what I 
 mean when I say ' of course ' you'll dine with 
 me. The * of course ' takes the much more 
 pleasing form of a charming young gentle- 
 woman from Boston, Miss Millicent Dan- 
 vers, to whom we all want to show every 
 possible attention, and especially to introduce 
 you as a typical young gentleman of Virginia. 
 She is with us only for the day. So don't send 
 any excuses, but come in your own proper per- 
 son." 
 
 Remembering that Boyd Westover was a 
 gallant, hot-blooded young Virginian, and that 
 it had been many moons since he had enjoyed 
 association with young women of his class and 
 caste, it is easy to understand the eagerness 
 with which he welcomed this opportunity to 
 " get himself civilized again," as he framed 
 the thought in his mind. 
 
 " From Boston? " he reflected. " I suppose 
 she'll have gold-rimmed spectacles and talk 
 philosophy. I never met a Boston girl, so this 
 will be a new experience. After all, I suppose 
 women are very much alike, no matter where 
 they come from. Doubtless this one has pulses, 
 
COURT DAY 265 
 
 just as other girls have, and perhaps I shall be 
 able to put my finger on them. At any rate 
 it will interest me to try. My opportunities 
 promise to be good. Major Magister and the 
 Judge and Jack Towns and the Common- 
 wealth's Attorney are sure to fall foul of each 
 other over abstruse law points that the rest of 
 us know nothing about, and that will leave 
 mine hostess and the Boston maid to me." 
 
 It was in this mood of pleasurable but by 
 no means enthusiastic anticipation that West- 
 over entered the home of his host, half an 
 hour after the jury had returned a verdict of 
 " not guilty," in the case of Jack Towns's client 
 a verdict that was based rather upon the 
 absence of evidence that Jack Towns had suc- 
 ceeded in excluding than upon the evidence ac- 
 tually presented at the trial. 
 
XXIV 
 
 A PERFECT WOMAN AND A MAN 
 
 WHEN his hostess presented him to 
 Millicent Danvers, Westover could 
 scarcely believe that this was the 
 young woman he had been invited to meet. He 
 had constructed a portrait of her in his imagi- 
 nation and she did not satisfy any of the details 
 of the picture. He had expected to find her 
 tall, bony, Roman-nosed, and sallow. She was 
 instead of moderate height, plump, with deli- 
 cately moulded Grecian features, and a com- 
 plexion of pink and white that had no sugges- 
 tion of sallowness in it. He had expected 
 spectacles; instead he found a pair of gray- 
 blue eyes that looked into his own with candor 
 and fearless trustfulness, like those of a child 
 of four or five years of age, and yet with the 
 confidence and courage that come only of good 
 breeding allied to perfect innocence. He had 
 266 
 
A PERFECT WOMAN 267 
 
 prepared himself to meet an aggressive, self 
 assertive manner ; instead he found all the shy- 
 ness of young girlhood, all the modesty of 
 maiden inexperience, allied with a frank, self- 
 respecting truthfulness that was fearless be- 
 cause of its confidence of right intent. 
 
 They talked, of course, about the young 
 woman's impressions of Virginia. 
 
 " It is lovely," she said. " You know it is 
 all a surprise, an astonishment to me." 
 
 " How so? Would you mind explaining 
 that?" 
 
 " I cannot exactly explain it. You see it's 
 like a pleasant dream. You know it made you 
 happy while you were dreaming it, and you 
 know it makes you happy after you're awake, 
 but you can't tell just what it was you dreamed 
 or just why it made you happy. It is so elusive 
 that you can't grasp it and put it into words. 
 I'm still dreaming Virginia, and I know I shall 
 never be able to tell anybody why the dream is 
 so delicious. I try to think it out sometimes, 
 but I can't. Whenever I make up my mind 
 that it is because of this thing or that, I say 
 * No, that isn't it.' I suppose it's a thousand 
 
268 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 little things put together. But tell me about 
 this election of yours. I'm talking too much 
 about myself and my thoughts." 
 
 " No, you are not. The election doesn't in- 
 terest me, and what you've been saying does. 
 Go on, please. You had more in your mind." 
 
 "How can you know that?" she asked in 
 genuine surprise. 
 
 " Because you spoke of ' a thousand little 
 things/ I wish you would tell me about a 
 dozen of them, or even half a dozen." 
 
 With a world of childlike seriousness in her 
 wide open eyes the girl responded: 
 
 " I suppose I ought not to have said a thou- 
 sand. That was an exaggeration, and exag- 
 geration is as bad as any other kind of fibbing, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 " In some cases, yes in some, no. Cer- 
 tainly it was not so in this case. Your phrase 
 carried to my mind precisely the thought you 
 had in your own, and so it was perfectly truth- 
 ful." 
 
 " I'm glad you think so. I try always to 
 tell the truth." 
 
 " So I should imagine. Now will you not 
 
A PERFECT WOMAN 269 
 
 go on and tell me some of the things that please 
 you in our Virginia life? Is it so different 
 from your life up North? You see I have 
 never been North." 
 
 " Oh, yes, so different ! I think most of us 
 up North are good people, just as I suppose 
 most people are everywhere. But there's a dif- 
 ference a something, I don't know just 
 what. Yes, I do, too, in part at least, though 
 I'm not sure I can put it into words. We live 
 within ourselves, and you don't. We love our 
 friends and are kind to them, but we aren't 
 close to them, as people down here are. It is 
 because we are shy, I suppose. Our attitude 
 toward money values is different. I don't 
 know that our people care more about money 
 than you do, but well, we take it into ac- 
 count as you do not. But that isn't what I 
 mean. There is a certain graciousness in your 
 ways of living, a warmth, a color I don't 
 know what to call it that fascinates me. 
 We are scrupulously polite to each other; you 
 are cordially courteous instead. I suppose that 
 too is because we are shyer than you are. We 
 shrink from self revelation as you do not. I 
 
270 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 think we are really as warm-hearted as you 
 Virginians are, but we are more reserved." 
 
 " You are doubtless right. I've observed 
 that temperamental peculiarity in the North- 
 ern men I've met. At the University there was 
 a young man from Boston who became my 
 chum under rather peculiar circumstances, and 
 I studied him closely. Because of a certain 
 delicacy of constitution which rendered your 
 Boston winters dangerous to his health, he was 
 sent to the University of Virginia instead of 
 Harvard. He didn't know our ways, and as 
 a * Yankee ' you know how unjustly that 
 word has come to have evil significance with 
 us he was a good deal shunned, and things 
 were said, and well, it so came about that 
 he and I became chums and occupied a room 
 together on the lawn." 
 
 " Yes, I know," she answered dreamily, as 
 if recalling a story. " But you are suppress- 
 ing the truth, Mr. Westover." 
 
 In an astonishment that well nigh made him 
 spring from his chair, he asked : 
 
 "How do you know that?" 
 
 " Our hostess is rising," she replied with a 
 
A PERFECT WOMAN 
 
 271 
 
 calm dignity that was fascinating to the young 
 man. :< We ladies must leave you gentlemen 
 to your wine and cigars." 
 
 " I do not take wine," he replied, " and as 
 for cigars I shall gladly give them up in favor 
 of a further conversation with you. If you 
 permit, I will quit the table with you." 
 
 " There! " she exclaimed. " That's one of 
 the ' thousand ' things I spoke of. In Virginia 
 you gentlemen manifest a certain deference 
 toward women that I have seen nowhere else. 
 It is gallantly protective, respectfully, not serv- 
 ilely submissive, a tribute of strength to weak- 
 ness which carries with it no reflection upon 
 the weakness, and to women it is the most 
 fascinating thing imaginable. I've expressed 
 it lamely, but " and with that she took a 
 handful of cigars from the passing box and 
 added : 
 
 " At any rate your courtesy to me shall 
 not cost you your smoke. We won't go 
 into the drawing room, but into the porch. 
 The day is mild, and I want to tell you that 
 story." 
 
 " Tell me first," he said as they passed into 
 
272 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 the porch, " how you happen to know anything 
 about it." 
 
 " It is simple enough. I've heard my brother 
 tell the story with enthusiasm many, many 
 times." 
 
 "Your brother?" 
 
 " Yes. Holmes Wentworth is my elder 
 brother. My mother was married twice, you 
 know." 
 
 " I see. I didn't know. If I had known " 
 
 "If -you had known you wouldn't have 
 spoken of the matter at all. And as it was, 
 you were suppressing all the interesting facts. 
 Now I'm going to relate them according to 
 the gospel of Holmes Wentworth. In a deba- 
 ting society one night he expressed some opin- 
 ions that gave offence to certain of the stu- 
 dents, and some proposal of censure was made 
 and hotly advocated. You opposed it, declar- 
 ing that debate without absolute free speech 
 must be a mockery. Your impassioned utter- 
 ance won approval, and the resolution was 
 voted down with only three or four men 
 voting for it. They were not Virginians 
 and " 
 
A PERFECT WOMAN 273 
 
 " They were the sons of negro traders, every 
 man of them," interrupted Westover; "and 
 for the negro trader and his belongings Vir- 
 ginia gentlemen have neither recognition nor 
 tolerance. They are the vilest 
 
 He paused in search of a more effective 
 epithet, and she spoke. 
 
 " I know all about that," she said, " and you 
 needn't bite an inch off your next cigar by 
 way of expressing yourself. Let me go on 
 with the story. Those ' lewd fellows of the 
 baser sort ' went down into Charlottesville and 
 organized a crew of ruffians to drive Holmes 
 Wentworth out of the University and out of 
 Virginia. You heard of the thing, and arm- 
 ing yourself with all the Colt's revolvers you 
 could borrow, you hurried into the town. 
 There you found Holmes sorely beset by a 
 dozen armed ruffians and a crowd of other 
 jeering dissolutes. You pushed him up into 
 a corner, thrust a pair of the pistols into his 
 hands, and took your place beside him, saying : 
 ' If they rush us, shoot with both hands, and 
 shoot to kill; there's no good in wasting am- 
 munition.' Then you called out to the mob: 
 
274 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 ' Now do your worst, you cowards ! But the 
 first man that crosses that curbstone dies the 
 death of the dog that he is, and we'll send 
 some others to ' really you used some dread- 
 ful language, Mr. Westover, which I can't re- 
 peat, though I know it all by heart. And a 
 little later, after the mob had quailed before 
 you, you swore worse than ever, ordering 
 them to disperse or you'd fire into them and 
 send some of them to the place you had already 
 mentioned. Oh, it was glorious! But the 
 sheriff came and drove the crowd away. You 
 see I know the whole story. Do you wonder 
 that I find things to like in Virginia? Then 
 you took Holmes to live in the same room 
 with you, and after you learned to understand 
 him as well as he already understood you, he 
 and you became bosom friends." 
 
 " Thank you," he replied, throwing away a 
 cigar that he had forgotten to light ; " but 
 really Holmes's imagination is creative and he 
 has made too much of a trifle." 
 
 " He hasn't any imagination at all," she re- 
 plied ; " he's the most prosaic, literal, realistic 
 fact mongerer imaginable, as you very well 
 
A PERFECT WOMAN 275 
 
 know. But now I'm going to turn woman 
 again and talk about myself." 
 
 Westover thought that about the most tact- 
 ful turning of a conversation that he had ever 
 known. But she gave him no time to wonder 
 over it. 
 
 " I'm staying at The Oaks, you know, with 
 Margaret Conway. She's the very sweetest, 
 truest, loveliest girl I ever knew. She's fit to 
 be the wife of the noblest man in Virginia." 
 
 Westover winced, and the girl observed the 
 fact without recognizing it in any way. In- 
 stead she went on : 
 
 " You see she was my guest for six weeks 
 a year ago, and I'm returning her visit and 
 incidentally enjoying life better than I ever 
 dreamed that one could do. By the way, 
 there's to be a dance at Dr. Carver's over at 
 Fighting Creek, wherever that is, to-morrow 
 night no, it's the next night, and as there is 
 to be some sort of public meeting near there 
 that day, I suppose I shall see you at the 
 party." 
 
 At that moment there was a double irrup- 
 tion from the dining room on the one side 
 
276 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 and the drawing room on the other, into the 
 porch to see an autumn sunset of peculiar gor- 
 geousness. A little later Boyd Westover took 
 his leave, and bidding Jack Towns follow at 
 his convenience, set out for Wanalah. 
 
 As he went he found himself thinking of 
 Millicent Danvers with far more admiration 
 and greatly tenderer sentiment than he had be- 
 lieved himself capable of feeling toward any 
 woman since Margaret had been lost to him. 
 
 " She is certainly charming," he said to him- 
 self ; then correcting his thought he said, " No, 
 that is not the word; it is commonplace, con- 
 ventional, cheap, and nothing commonplace, 
 conventional or cheap can describe Millicent 
 Danvers. She is all woman that's it, and 
 I can't imagine anything better as belonging 
 to this world or the next. She is honest, truth- 
 ful, genuine, but those are ordinary virtues, 
 and her virtues are not confined to the ordi- 
 nary. She is sympathetic with all things that 
 are essentially right and of good report. Still, 
 that is not the secret of her charm, for many 
 women perhaps most women are all that. 
 She has high ideals and she is loyal to them. 
 
A PERFECT WOMAN 277 
 
 She's the sort of woman Jephtha's daughter is 
 supposed to have been, and at the same time 
 she has all the qualities that make the story 
 of Ruth the greatest masterpiece of all litera- 
 ture. Heroism is hers, and gentleness not less. 
 She is a Joan of Arc and she is the most trust- 
 ing child that was ever gently dandled on one's 
 knee. I have it ! She has faith ; she believes ; 
 she trusts, and in her belief she dares and hon- 
 ors daring. Heroism is to her an object of 
 worship; devotion a divine inspiration; truth 
 an inborn characteristic. It is just as I said 
 before she is all woman, and in all God's 
 work he created nothing else so good or so 
 great as that." 
 
 As he reached this point in his meditations 
 he was passing the outer gates of The Oaks 
 plantation, and suddenly his thought reverted 
 to Margaret. 
 
 " She, too, is a woman of that type," he re- 
 flected. " I do not understand her silence, but 
 I should be unworthy of any woman's love if 
 I doubted her truth. I will not doubt her. I 
 will let no other take her place in my heart so 
 long as I live. She is all that Millicent Dan- 
 
278 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 vers is, and to me she is more and always 
 must be. She is the woman who gave me 
 love for love, and even in an estrangement that 
 can now never be undone, I cannot forget the 
 troth we plighted before Fate interposed to 
 spoil my life. I shall not attend the dance at 
 Dr. Carver's." 
 
XXV 
 
 THE GREAT RENUNCIATION 
 
 THE drizzling rain that had marred the 
 day had ceased during the afternoon. 
 The late October sun had set in a 
 golden glory while yet Westover lingered by 
 the side of Millicent Danvers in the porch of 
 the Magister homestead. The evening that 
 followed was irresistibly tempting to lovers of 
 the out of doors. 
 
 Two men sat in converse in the porch at 
 Wanalah. 
 
 Two women sat in converse in the porch at 
 The Oaks. 
 
 The two men were Boyd Westover and Jack 
 Towns. 
 
 The two women were Margaret Conway and 
 Millicent Danvers. 
 
 The conversations in the two porches were 
 utterly unlike in substance, in tone and in ef- 
 279 
 
2 8o WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 feet. Nevertheless they were not unrelated 
 in part at least. 
 
 Jack Towns had come to give an account of 
 his stewardship, but Westover, with his habit- 
 ual indifference to petty details, insisted upon 
 it that the report should be broadly gen- 
 eral. 
 
 " When a man has arranged a matter," he 
 said, " involving nine seven times over, I like 
 him to say sixty-three at the outset, instead of 
 seven times nine. I hate to multiply and divide 
 and add and subtract." 
 
 " Why the deuce are you doing it, then ? " 
 demanded Jack. 
 
 "As how?" 
 
 " Why by making the wholly needless and 
 utterly idle computation that seven times nine 
 is sixty-three. Why didn't you just say you 
 liked totals rather than the factors producing 
 them?" 
 
 " I suppose it is because I never studied law 
 and therefore haven't a well ordered mind." 
 
 " And I don't suppose anything of the sort. 
 I suppose it's because your mind is fascinated 
 with some other subject and by the way she 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 281 
 
 really is charming so that it wearies you to 
 think of anything else. Perhaps you'll feel 
 otherwise when you hear what I have to tell 
 you. Are you ready to listen ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly. Go on." 
 
 " Very well then. That father of yours was 
 never so wise in all his life as when he bought 
 all that mining land up in the Rocky Moun- 
 tains. I don't know and I can't even guess 
 how he found out the value of what he was 
 buying." 
 
 " Perhaps he didn't," said Boyd. " May be 
 he was simply coppering on the ace and taking 
 the chances." 
 
 " I had thought of that. It's the most prob- 
 able solution. However that may be, he man- 
 aged to buy Golconda and Ophir and Califor- 
 nia and Australia and the mint and the assay 
 office all in one when he disbursed a few thou- 
 sand dollars for about the most desolate spot 
 on earth, a place where you not only can't raise 
 a potato but can't even boil one because o-f the 
 altitude. It takes half an hour up there to pro- 
 duce a soft-boiled egg. You can boil water in 
 two minutes, and as it boils it is so cool you 
 
282 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 can bathe in it half a minute later. I have 
 some counterfeit continental currency in a cab- 
 inet at my house, and upon my word, if any- 
 body had offered me all the land your father 
 bought for you up there in exchange for one 
 of those old and doubly discredited shin- 
 plasters, I wouldn't have made the trade." 
 
 " Then the whole thing " 
 
 " Nothing of the kind. I didn't say that or 
 suggest it. I've put your land and mining 
 rights into a new company that already has 
 machinery and management and technical 
 skill and brains established there. The stock 
 of that company will pay heaven only knows 
 how many hundred per cent, per annum in the 
 way of dividends, and thirty-nine per cent, of 
 it is yours. By way of boot, as horse traders 
 call it, I brought away nine hundred and fifty 
 thousand dollars in sight drafts on New York 
 and Boston. I tried hard to force them to 
 make it a million just for the name of the 
 thing, but I couldn't because they are men of 
 affairs with no sense of the picturesque. And 
 after all " 
 
 " What on earth am I to do with all that 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 283 
 
 money?" asked Boyd in a tone of distressed 
 perplexity. 
 
 " Oh, you'll manage that easily enough after 
 you get used to having it. And if you don't 
 want to bother yourself about it, you needn't. 
 I've already invested it for you, acting un- 
 der my blanket power of attorney, so that 
 the interest is all you'll have to look out 
 for." 
 
 " What have you done with it, Jack ? " 
 " In view of the disturbed condition of poli- 
 tics in this country and the rumors of possible 
 war, I have had something more than half of 
 it sent to the Barings in London to be invested 
 in British consols and French rentes. The rest 
 is invested in Virginia sixes and other good, 
 interest paying bonds, and is in the vaults of 
 August Belmont & Co. in New York. By way 
 of providing you with pocket money, I've 
 placed twenty-five thousand dollars to your 
 credit in the Farmers' Bank of Virginia. 
 There. There isn't a seven times nine problem 
 in that whole story for you to wrestle with. 
 You've got only your sixty-three to consider, 
 and when you grow quite sane again you can 
 
284 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 go over the detailed statements that I shall 
 leave with you. Now tell me, what does it 
 mean Colonel Conway's attitude I refer to 
 of course." 
 
 " Frankly, I don't know." 
 
 " Tell me all you do know, and perhaps I 
 can figure out the rest. You see it doesn't 
 appall me to have a seven to multiply by a 
 nine." 
 
 " As I said before, I don't know. Colonel 
 Conway's attitude is a puzzle to me. Either 
 he thinks I've done something to offend, or he 
 doesn't. If he thinks so, it isn't conceivable 
 that he should sulk. It is his habit in such 
 cases to make an open issue of the matter. 
 He's a fighter, you know, and not a moody, 
 secretive hater. If he doesn't think I have 
 done anything that should offend him, I cannot 
 understand why he does not call upon me, and 
 especially I don't understand why he avoided 
 meeting me by staying away from the Court 
 House to-day, where I happen to know he had 
 important business. I shall challenge his atti- 
 tude pretty soon and force some sort of ex- 
 planation." 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 285 
 
 " Yes, and by way of preparation for that, 
 you are falling in love with the girl from Bos- 
 ton. That will complicate matters charmingly. 
 Really, Boyd, fo-r a man of brains, education, 
 culture and all that, you now and then make 
 the most elaborately embroidered idiot of your- 
 self I ever knew." 
 
 "But I'm not in love with Miss Danvers; 
 I never saw her until to-day." 
 
 " I quite understand that. Nevertheless 
 after you have met her three or four times 
 more, you'll make the mistake of thinking 
 yourself in love with her, and you'll court her 
 and she will accept you for she's positively 
 daffy about you, as I easily found out after you 
 left this evening. Then you'll awake to the 
 fact that after all a man's affections are not 
 so easily transferred as shares of stock are. 
 You've never told me so, but I know, never- 
 theless, that the one love of your life is for 
 Margaret Conway, and if you permit yourself 
 to attempt a transfer of that passion, you'll 
 repent it in sackcloth and ashes so long as you 
 live. No, don't interrupt me. I'm in desper- 
 ate earnest, and I'm going to say my say out, 
 
286 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 even if it results in your ordering my horse and 
 bidding me be gone from Wanalah forever. 
 Now listen to me. I once had a case of quar- 
 relling heirs to deal with. If they had been 
 left to their own devices, the whole estate they 
 were fighting for would have been dissipated 
 in chancery proceedings. I went to each of 
 them separately and compelled each to tell me 
 his side of the story. I found that the whole 
 trouble lay in a lot of mutual misunderstand- 
 ings, as most quarrels do. I multiplied seven 
 by nine and found it made sixty-three, and 
 after a little I got all of them to accept sixty- 
 three as the product of the factors. In other 
 words, I settled the whole affair, merely by 
 finding out both sides of the facts. 
 
 " Now in this case of yours, I am satisfied 
 that the entire trouble arises from a mutual 
 misunderstanding. I insist that you shall tell 
 me all the facts as you understand them. I 
 shall find means of discovering just what the 
 facts are as the other side understands them. 
 It is impertinent in an extreme degree for me 
 to inquire into the matter at all. But in the 
 practice of the law it is my function and duty 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 287 
 
 to be impertinent. Go on, then, and tell me the 
 facts as you understand them." 
 
 When Jack began his speech, Westover 
 foresaw what was coming, and was resentfully 
 determined to permit no trespass of such sort 
 upon his privacy. But before Jack had fin- 
 ished, the old dream of life and love, with 
 Margaret for its saint and sovereign, had re- 
 vived in his mind. What if, after all, Jack 
 Towns should be able to unravel the mystery 
 of Margaret's silence and open a way for him? 
 In that moment all the love he had cherished 
 for Margaret surged back upon his soul in an 
 overwhelming flood that made all other women 
 objects of courteous but complete indifference. 
 He saw clearly that no woman on earth could 
 ever take the place in his heart that this one 
 woman had made her own. He could not even 
 conjecture how the result could be brought 
 about, but the very dream of it so far fascinated 
 him that he was ready to put aside all reserve 
 and respond in perfect candor to Jack Towns's 
 impertinence. 
 
 " I hardly know how to tell the story, Jack/' 
 he responded, "but I'll tell it somehow, if 
 
288 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 you'll give me time. Margaret and I were 
 brought up together. Never mind that; it is 
 unimportant. The time came when I loved her 
 and she loved me, and we told each other so. 
 With her father's enthusiastic consent we be- 
 came engaged, and it was planned that the 
 marriage should take place during the late 
 summer as soon as I should get the affairs 
 of Wanalah adjusted. With that in view I 
 went to Richmond. You know what happened 
 there. I wrote to Margaret many times. I 
 got no word of reply. I hoped for her sympa- 
 thy ; I had silence instead. I expected Colonel 
 Conway to come to my side during my trouble, 
 and to lend me at least the encouragement of 
 belief in me. He neither came nor sent a line 
 of sympathy in support of my courage. Even 
 the death of my mother the cruellest blow 
 that fate had ever dealt me brought no word 
 or line from him or from Margaret. When 
 my name was cleared of stigma by the confes- 
 sion of the real culprit, I came back here to 
 Wanalah with the avowed purpose of making 
 necessary preparations for my sojourn in the 
 mountains. In point of fact, as I know now 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 289 
 
 my purpose was to open the way for some com- 
 munication between Wanalah and The Oaks. 
 No such communication came. Colonel Con- 
 way did not call upon me, and Margaret sent 
 me no line. Since then Colonel Conway has 
 emphasized his disapproval of me in other 
 ways, as you are aware." 
 
 " Yes, well ? You believe yourself possessed 
 of ordinary common sense, I suppose? " asked 
 Jack Towns in the tone he was in the habit of 
 using when cross examining a witness whom 
 he intended to discomfit. 
 
 " Yes, of course." 
 
 " Are you acquainted with Margaret Con- 
 way?" 
 
 " Why, of course you know " 
 
 " I know nothing. I'm trying to find out. 
 Answer the question. Are you acquainted 
 with Margaret Conway ? " 
 
 " Yes. I've known her ever since she was 
 born." 
 
 " Is she the sort of woman who would or 
 could do what she appears to have done in 
 this case? Is it conceivable that she has left 
 you in a crisis like that which you have gone 
 
290 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 through, without a word of reply to letters re- 
 ceived from you? Is it probable? Is it even 
 possible ? Is it thinkable ? " 
 
 " Apparently " 
 
 " Oh, hang ' apparently/ Apparently the 
 sun circles round the earth, but we know better. 
 Apparently the moon is made of green cheese, 
 but it isn't. Apparently you are a crass idiot, 
 but in the ultimate analysis you are nothing of 
 the kind. Now answer my question: Is it 
 probable or even conceivably possible that un- 
 der the circumstances of your trouble in Rich- 
 mond, Margaret Conway, pledged as she was 
 to be your wife, and possessed as she is of an 
 exalted conception of womanly truth and 
 honor, and saturated as she is with the courage 
 of a proud race, the courage that does duty 
 and dares consequences is it conceivably 
 possible that she has under such circumstances 
 sat still and left unanswered letters received 
 from you in your travail? " 
 
 " It seems unaccountable " began Boyd, 
 and his companion interrupted him : 
 
 " Nobody has asked you to account for that 
 which could not have happened. I am asking 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 291 
 
 you to search your own soul and say whether 
 or not this thing can be true. If anybody 
 should tell me that Boyd Westover had set up 
 a counterfeiting plant in one of his barns and 
 was busily ' shoving the queer,' would you ex- 
 pect me to go bothering about how such a thing 
 could have come about? Would you not ex- 
 pect rather that I should give the story the lie 
 without further ado? This is a like case. If 
 you know Margaret Conway, you know she 
 has not been guilty of this stupendous wrong. 
 You have no right to go on acting as if she 
 had been." 
 
 " You are right of course," Boyd replied, 
 " so far at least as the principle is concerned. 
 But how do you account for the facts ? " 
 
 " It isn't my business to account for the 
 facts. I know and you know that under the 
 circumstances which arose in this case, Mar- 
 garet Conway did not leave unanswered any 
 letter she received from you. Either she did 
 not receive your letters, or you did not receive 
 her replies, or, more probably, both things 
 happened." 
 
 " But how could that be ? I " 
 
292 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " I don't know. I'm not the proper person 
 to ask. I'm going up to bed now, if you don't 
 mind. I've said all I had in mind to say." 
 
 The conversation in the other porch was 
 not like this, and yet in its way it was not 
 unlike it. 
 
 " I hope you enjoyed yourself at the Mag- 
 isters' to-day, Millicent," said Margaret as the 
 two seated themselves in the porch. " I'm 
 sorry I couldn't be with you, but you see old 
 Judy was very low, and I really had to stay 
 with her." 
 
 " Of course. Only it's all an astonishment 
 to me I mean the way in which you look 
 after negroes who are ill." 
 
 " Why, of course we must do that " 
 
 " Yes, I understand now, but I didn't. I 
 thought you treated them as so many cattle. 
 Of course I knew you looked after your own 
 maids and other personal serving women, but 
 I thought field negroes " 
 
 " I know, dear. The whole system, is bad 
 and I wish we were rid of it. But people up 
 North always imagine that its worst possibili- 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 293 
 
 ties are the daily facts, and we naturally resent 
 that. We aren't angels by any means, but at 
 least we are human beings. Never mind that 
 now. Tell me about the dinner and the com- 
 pany." 
 
 " Well, I didn't see much of the company. 
 The Judge and Mr. Towns, and the Judge's 
 wife and the Commonwealth's Attorney talked 
 hotly about law things that I didn't at all un- 
 derstand, so I talked mainly with Mr. Boyd 
 Westover. Margaret, I'd like to spend my 
 whole life listening to him talk. You see he's 
 so big and strong, and yet so gentle and chiv- 
 alric. He makes you feel that you ought to 
 think yourself worth while, because he respects 
 you so, and is so deferential to you. Why, 
 even my poor little thinkings seemed to me of 
 some account because of the way in which he 
 listened to me and treated my utterances. I 
 tell you, Margaret, he is the most perfect type 
 of the gentleman I ever saw or dreamed of." 
 
 The night was starlit, but there was no 
 moon as yet, for it was far past the full, and 
 the porch was dark. Margaret Conway was 
 grateful for the shadow. It hid her counte- 
 
294 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 nance and prevented self-revelation of a kind 
 that must have filled her soul with humiliation 
 and shame. It gave her time in which to re- 
 cover her self-control. Presently she forced 
 herself to say : 
 
 " Mr. Westover is certainly a good example 
 of our best type of gentleman. You'll like him 
 more as you become better acquainted with 
 him, and fortunately you'll meet him again al- 
 most immediately. He's sure to be at the dance 
 at Dr. Carver's over at Fighting Creek." 
 
 " Yes, he's to speak over there. Oh, Mar- 
 garet, I wonder if I might hear his speech? 
 Do they let women attend? You see he is so 
 big and brave and manly and so handsome. 
 He's sure to make a speech worth listening 
 to. Do you think I might get a chance to 
 hear it?" 
 
 1 Yes, dear, certainly," responded Margaret 
 in a voice that in spite of her had something 
 of hardness in it. " I will arrange that. You'll 
 sit in a carriage on the outskirts of the crowd, 
 and you can hear every word, unless " 
 
 "Unless what, Margaret?" 
 
 " Oh, I was only thinking out loud. You 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 295 
 
 see your carriage will be surrounded by half 
 a dozen young men, all in love with you, all 
 madly jealous, and all eager to win and hold 
 your attention. If you can suppress them, 
 you'll hear the whole speech." 
 
 " Tell me, Margaret, have you known him 
 a long time ? " 
 
 " Yes, all my life." 
 
 " I see," she answered. What she had in 
 her mind was that the intimacy between these 
 two wa's perhaps too close and too familiar to 
 permit a softer feeling to grow up between 
 them. "Otherwise," she reflected, " they 
 would have been lovers of course. How could 
 either of them help that? " 
 
 But she gave no utterance to the thought. 
 She only subconsciously rejoiced that matters 
 were as she supposed them to be. 
 
 " I don't think I can be with you over at 
 Fighting Creek, Millicent," said Margaret 
 after she had mastered herself and formed a 
 plan. 
 
 " But why not? I shall not go if you can't," 
 answered the girl with emphasis. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you will. I wish you to be there. 
 
296 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 You'll meet everybody in this whole region 
 who is worth meeting. I wouldn't have you 
 miss that on any account. Besides, I should 
 get up a very unlovely reputation for selfish- 
 ness, if I suffered you to miss such a fes- 
 tivity merely because I can't enjoy it with 
 you." 
 
 " But why can't you, Margaret? " 
 
 " There are several reasons. For one thing 
 my father is laid up with an attack of the gout, 
 you know. That's why he turned back after 
 he had started to Court to-day. He doesn't 
 seem to be suffering much, but gout is treach- 
 erous, and I must be within call of him. Then 
 again there are two or three cases of fever at 
 the far quarters." 
 
 Then, as if fearing to have the sufficiency of 
 her excuses too closely questioned, she hur- 
 riedly added : 
 
 " I've planned it all beautifully, Millicent. 
 I'll send you over to Fighting Creek in The 
 Oaks carriage. My maid shall go with you 
 as escort, and I'll send for Carter Barksdale to 
 go on horseback as your gallant outrider. You 
 see Carter is only seventeen years of age, and 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 297 
 
 he reads Byron and Shelley and Scott till he's 
 saturated with romance. He's perfectly charm- 
 ing, and you'll enjoy his escort all the more 
 because he's just old enough to fall madly in 
 love with you at first sight, and just young 
 enough to be afraid to tell you so. He's a 
 Virginia type that I want you to meet. That 
 sort of boy is at his best when he's seventeen 
 and takes himself so seriously that he shrinks 
 from the open declaration of the fancies he 
 mistakes for passions. He will revel in a 
 silent, unspoken, unrequited love for one as 
 far removed from his approach as the northern 
 star, ' of whose true, fixed, and resting quality ' 
 he will quote, ' there is no fellow in the firma- 
 ment.' Of course, after he has thoroughly en- 
 joyed the unspeakable wretchedness of a 
 blighted passion, he will fall in love with the 
 next young woman several years older than 
 himself who comes in his way, and have the 
 romance all over again." 
 
 " Margaret," said Millicent seriously and 
 tenderly, " you are not happy to-night. You 
 are cynical. Something has disturbed you. 
 Don't you feel that you can tell me what it 
 
298 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 is and let me share your sorrow as freely as 
 you let me share your more joyful moods? " 
 
 Margaret Conway was too inherently truth- 
 ful to protest that she had no cause of unhap- 
 piness when she had. But, with an instinctive 
 flinching from self-revelation, which every sen- 
 sitive soul experiences at such a time, she care- 
 fully framed her speech for purposes of avoid- 
 ance. 
 
 " I don't think I'm cynical, Millicent. I 
 don't feel so. I meant only to be amusing in 
 talking of something that always amuses me. 
 It has always seemed to me funny that young 
 men should be so desperately afraid of us 
 young women even when we are trembling in 
 holy awe of them. I've seen so much of that 
 sort of thing. Sometimes it becomes tragical 
 and spoils lives that do not deserve to be 
 spoiled. I knew one case in which it was saved 
 from doing that only by the impertinent inter- 
 ference of a very peculiar young woman." 
 
 " Oh, it's a story," exclaimed Millicent, 
 " and a love story at that. Tell it please." 
 
 "It isn't much of a story, but I'll tell it. 
 I had a governess whom I loved dearly and 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 299 
 
 with reason. She taught me all I know, 
 and " 
 
 " She must have been a woman of wonder- 
 ful acquirements then." 
 
 " She was and is, but such culture as I pos- 
 sess is not an adequate indication of her learn- 
 ing or of her capacity to teach. I owe her all 
 I ever learned ; I owe to my own indifference 
 all the defects in my education." 
 
 There was something in Margaret's tone as 
 she said this, that attracted Millicent's atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " She is certainly cynical, self-accusative, un- 
 satisfied," she reflected. " She isn't happy, 
 and it behooves you, Millicent Danvers, to find 
 out the cause and remedy the condition if you 
 can." 
 
 Without uttering that thought, she said : 
 
 " You aren't telling me the love story, Mar- 
 garet, and I'm eager to hear that before I let 
 Carter Barksdale fall in love with me. You 
 see I'm young and wholly inexperienced, and 
 I naturally want to learn how such things are 
 conducted." 
 
 Margaret laughed lowly, as she thought : 
 
3 oo WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " A girl like you doesn't need lessons in the 
 conduct of love affairs. To such as you, 
 love, like ' to write and read, comes by na- 
 ture.' " 
 
 Then she resumed her story: 
 
 " Apart from her learning, Miss Jane was 
 an altogether admirable woman, and very nat- 
 urally our neighbor, Mr. Skipwith, fell in love 
 with her. He came over here to see her every 
 day for more than a year. He sent her flowers 
 from his garden, and when the frosts put an 
 end to that he built a green house, in order 
 that he might keep on sending her flowers. 
 But somehow he never could get up courage 
 enough to ask for her hand, until one day 
 Harriet Middleton brought about a crisis. 
 Harriet was an English girl of peculiarly good 
 family whose father had migrated to Virginia 
 in search of health. Harriet was almost an 
 old maid, though not quite. She was blunt 
 and aggressive in manner, though as gentle 
 and good as anybody could be when you came 
 really to know her. She was quick and shrewd 
 of observation, and it did not take her long to 
 find out how matters stood between Mr. Skip- 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 301 
 
 with and Miss Jane. But the days and weeks 
 went on and still there were no results. One 
 evening when the moon shone dreamily 
 through a soft haze, Mr. Skipwith and Miss 
 Jane sat here in the porch, while Harriet and 
 I walked away through the orchard, by way 
 of leaving them alone, and picking up some 
 good apples. When we returned, the pair were 
 sitting precisely as we had left them, at a re- 
 spectful distance from each other, and both 
 their attitude and their manner bore convincing 
 witness that even the hazy moonlight had failed 
 to bring about a crisis. 
 
 " Harriet's patience gave way. She stalked 
 into the porch, with that horse-like tread that 
 Englishwomen use for a walk, and, taking her 
 stand between the two, said : 
 
 " ' You two people love each other. You 
 want to tell each other about it but you don't 
 dare; so I'm telling you instead. Now that 
 I've introduced the subject, perhaps you'll talk 
 it out.' 
 
 " With that she passed on into the house, 
 and a few weeks later Mr. Skipwith and Miss 
 Jane were married." 
 
3 02 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " And have they lived happily ever after- 
 wards?" 
 
 " Indeed they have. They are well to do 
 and very hospitable, and a pleasanter place 
 to visit than the Skipwith plantation doesn't 
 exist in Virginia." 
 
 "And Miss Middleton?" 
 
 " She's enjoying herself, bossing an insane 
 asylum. She's only a patient there, but she 
 believes she's the superintendent, and they let 
 her give all the orders she thinks fit. Matilda," 
 addressing a maid who at that moment ap- 
 peared with some lemonade, " send for the 
 carriage please, and send word that I want old 
 Michael to drive me. Johnny is apt to go to 
 sleep." 
 
 " But where on earth are you going to drive 
 at eleven o'clock at night?" asked Millicent 
 in wonder. 
 
 " Why, you know I have some fever patients 
 out at the far quarters." 
 
 She was at pains not to say that she was 
 going to visit them, though she half intended 
 to do so. Her desire imperative and pas- 
 sionate was to separate herself from human 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 303 
 
 companionship and think out the problems 
 that beset her soul. 
 
 " But mayn't I go with you? " 
 
 " No, no, no. You might get the fever, and 
 besides, you must get your beauty sleep. After 
 you are married to to some Virginia gentle- 
 man, and become the mistress of a plantation, 
 you will of course look after your sick servants. 
 Just now it is your duty to go to bed. There's 
 an old novel ' Dunallan ' on the dressing case 
 in my room. Go in there and get it. It's the 
 very sleepiest thing I ever saw in my life. 
 Read half a dozen pages of it and you'll be 
 sound asleep. Good night. I won't speak to 
 you when I come back, lest I disturb your 
 slumbers. Oh, by the way, tell Diana to put 
 three candles on my candle stand and place 
 it close to my bed. And tell her please to go 
 to bed as soon as she gets things ready in our 
 rooms. I shall not want her to-night, and she 
 has had a hard day." 
 
 As she finished speaking the carriage drove 
 up, with the white-haired old coachman 
 Michael on the box. He had long ago ceased 
 to have active duties of any kind to do, but 
 
3 04 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 when his " young missus " asked for him to 
 drive her anywhere, at any time and under any 
 circumstances, the loyal old servitor was ready 
 and eager in response. He had driven Mar- 
 garet's mother on her wedding journey to the 
 mountain resorts. He had driven Margaret 
 herself to her christening. He had grown old 
 but never lax in the service, and now in his 
 old age, when he was excused from all service, 
 it was his chief joy to drive his " young 
 missus " whenever she honored him by asking 
 that he should do so. 
 
 On this occasion he saw clearly enough that 
 Margaret was distraught, and when she en- 
 tered the carriage he forbore to distress her 
 with questions. He simply picked out the best 
 roads and followed them. After awhile she 
 spoke to him. 
 
 " I reckon you'd better drive to the far quar- 
 ters, Uncle Michael. I ought to see the sick 
 
 ones." 
 
 " Dey ain't sick, Miss Margaret. Least- 
 ways dey ain't sick enough for you to go both- 
 erin' 'bout 'em. Dey's jes' a sufferin' dere own 
 calamities. Dey stole a shoat night before last 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 
 
 305 
 
 an' gorged on it all night. 'Course dey had a 
 fever yestiddy an' to-day. Don't you go a 
 botherin' 'bout dem no 'count niggas, Miss 
 Margaret. Jes' you let ole Michael pick out 
 de roads fer you and drive you 'bout, com- 
 fortable like." 
 
 With this reassuring release from obliga- 
 tion, the girl sank back among the cushions 
 as the late rising, gibbous moon came up 
 from the horizon, and abandoned herself to 
 thought. 
 
 She was a woman, young, strong, passion- 
 ate; she cherished still that dream of love 
 which had so recently inspired and illumined 
 her life. She could not understand why or 
 how it had been snatched away by circum- 
 stance. It was hard for her to believe that 
 all she had hoped for and held dear had been 
 banished from her life by a final, arbitrary, in- 
 explicable decree of fate. 
 
 "And yet," she reflected, "it is so. Be- 
 tween Boyd and me there is a great gulf 
 fixed, and nothing can furnish a bridge across 
 it." 
 
 Then another thought occurred to her. 
 
3 o6 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Suppose I should write to Boyd and ask 
 him for an explanation? 
 
 " No, I could not do that without sacrificing 
 that pride of womanhood without which a 
 woman is nothing and worse than nothing. 
 No, that can never be. I wonder why he does 
 not himself offer an explanation and seek a 
 restoration of old relations? No, that can 
 never be. It would involve such a sacrifice of 
 manhood as is inconceivable. There is never 
 any explanation possible, never any solution to 
 this riddle, never anything." 
 
 She sat still for awhile, not thinking at all. 
 Suddenly she reflected: 
 
 " After all it is his happiness that I care for. 
 My own is of no consequence. He is a man, 
 and it will be easy for him to transfer his af- 
 fections. Men are not like women in that 
 way. Millicent will make a fitter wife for him 
 than I ever could. He will be happy with her, 
 and as for me well, it doesn't matter. I 
 have my duties and my occupations. The rest 
 is of no consequence. He shall love Millicent 
 and marry her, and may be, when I'm an old, 
 old woman, he and I will come to understand 
 
GREAT RENUNCIATION 307 
 
 each other again, at least so far that neither 
 shall accuse the other of treachery." 
 
 With a mind attuned to the great renuncia- 
 tion, she called to Michael and bade him drive 
 back to The Oaks. 
 
XXVI 
 
 MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS 
 
 MILLICENT DANVERS was a 
 frank, open-minded young woman, 
 almost childlike in her simplicity of 
 soul in every case where candor was met with 
 equal candor. But her childlikeness included 
 a child's subtle instinct as to the moods and 
 motives of others, and where affection 
 prompted her scrutiny she was not often at 
 fault in her judgments of human conduct. 
 
 When Margaret, refusing her company, 
 drove away that night Millicent knew per- 
 fectly that her friend's spirit was disturbed in 
 some unusual way, for until then these two 
 had been comrades in every such expedition, 
 and Margaret had been the one most insistent 
 that they should be so. 
 
 " I want you to see every phase of our 
 Virginia life," she had many times said, " so 
 
MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS 309 
 
 that when you go back to Boston you may 
 know what there is in it to approve, what to 
 admire, what to condemn, and what merely to 
 laugh at. For I'm sure there is much in it 
 that must strike Northern people as ludicrous. 
 Anyhow I want you to see it all and under- 
 stand all of it. Then I'm not afraid to trust 
 our life and our ways and our impulses to your 
 hands for explanation and exposition to people 
 who are ignorant of them or know them only 
 by prejudiced hearsay." 
 
 The events of this day, and especially Mar- 
 garet's own conduct had been so different from 
 all this as to awaken curiosity and compel at- 
 tention. Both the curiosity and the attention 
 had a deep and sincere affection for their 
 prompting. 
 
 When Margaret drove away and the late 
 rising, gibbous moon appeared above the tree 
 tops and shone softly through the windows of 
 Millicent's southeast room, the girl sat down 
 there by a casement to wonder, to conjecture, 
 to "guess," and, better still, to " think this 
 thing out to the end." 
 
 " There is something wrong with Mar- 
 
3 io WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 garet," was her first thought. " She is dis- 
 turbed and distressed, and she isn't the kind 
 of person to be disturbed and distressed with- 
 out adequate reason. Why didn't she go over 
 to the Court House with me this morning and 
 dine at the Magisters'? She intended to do 
 so. She and I had planned it all out, and she 
 had accepted Mrs. Magister's invitation. It 
 was only at the last moment that she decided 
 to stay and nurse her father's purely mythical 
 gout. It was only five minutes before that 
 that a note had come from Mrs. Magister, 
 saying that Mr. Boyd Westover had come 
 down out of the mountains and that she 
 should ' compel ' him to be one of her dinner 
 guests. I wonder if that news brought on the 
 attack of gout, and decided Margaret to stay 
 at the Oaks and nurse it? 
 
 " Then again it is clear that Margaret does 
 not expect Mr. Westover to visit her in the 
 near future. I wonder why? His plantation 
 adjoins this, and everybody says the two 
 families have been intimate for generations. 
 There must be some special reason. In fact 
 there is. Somebody told me to-day that Colo- 
 
MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS 311 
 
 nel Con way had refused to join in the nomina- 
 tion of Mr. Westover, and that the fact is 
 injuring Mr. Westover's canvass. I wonder 
 what it means ? Naturally Mr. Westover and 
 Margaret should be sweethearts, and after a 
 while they should marry each other. I won- 
 der why things haven't gone that way? May 
 be they have been too intimate in their child- 
 hood. No, that isn't the solution. It doesn't 
 explain Margaret's care to avoid Mr. West- 
 over. It doesn't explain her plan to send me 
 to Fighting Creek without her. It doesn't 
 explain her drive to-night. It doesn't explain 
 anything. If they were mere intimates, too 
 intimate to think of love, Mr. Westover would 
 be a frequent guest at The Oaks and the rela- 
 tions of the two would be comradely.'* 
 
 She paused for a while in the formulation 
 of her thinking into orderly phrases. Then 
 she reflected : 
 
 " When I mentioned Margaret to him at 
 dinner to-day he distinctly winced. Every 
 time I have mentioned him to her to-night, 
 she has turned the conversation to other sub- 
 jects." 
 
3 i2 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 There was another long pause in the for- 
 mulation of her thought. At last her com- 
 mon sense asserted itself and she said to her- 
 self: 
 
 " Millicent Danvers, you are treading upon 
 dangerous ground, and you must get off it as 
 quickly as possible. There has been a love af- 
 fair between Margaret and Westover. You 
 can't shut your eyes to that fact or pretend not 
 to see it. Some break has come, but such 
 breaks may be repaired, and it is your func- 
 tion to repair this one." 
 
 A wave of melancholy swept over her soul 
 as she thought of this. She mightily admired 
 Boyd Westover, and she had even dreamed 
 a little dream with regard to him. She was 
 a proud maiden in her way and as she searched 
 her heart there in the moonlight, she decided 
 that she had not suffered herself to fall in love 
 with Westover. 
 
 " How could I ? " she challenged herself to 
 answer. " I have met him but once. The 
 thing is absurd. Besides, no self-respecting 
 young woman gives her love to any man until 
 he asks for it. No, of course I'm not in love 
 
MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS 313 
 
 with Mr. Westover. It is nothing but admira- 
 tion that I feel for him." 
 
 Then, as she looked out into the tree-studded 
 house grounds, where all nature seemed to 
 sleep in the soft haze of the moonlight, she 
 added to her thought : 
 
 " But it would be easy for such a man to 
 change a woman's admiration into love by a 
 phrase, a word, a look into her eyes. Thank 
 God he has not yet looked into my eyes in that 
 way, and, God being my helper, he never shall. 
 After all, well, after all there are only a few 
 men in the world that well, anyhow, it isn't 
 so terrible a thing to be an old maid, and I'll 
 do my duty in this case if the stars start from 
 their courses, as a consequence." Then she 
 laughed under her breath, and jeered in 
 mocking fashion at the absurdity of her 
 thought : 
 
 " Of course the stars will do nothing of the 
 kind. That was a bit of heroics, and I'm not 
 a heroine of romance. I'm only a simple, hon- 
 est, Boston girl. I love Margaret dearly, and 
 I'm resolved to do all I can to bring about a 
 reconciliation between her and Mr. Westover, 
 
3 i4 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 for I'm satisfied there is need for something 
 of the sort. That's sane and sensible at any 
 rate, and the stars have nothing to do with 
 it." 
 
 She had been reading an essay entitled, 
 '' The Great Renunciation," and she was full 
 of its spirit, almost a devotee to the impulses it 
 sought to inspire. But as she recalled it she 
 laughed. 
 
 " That had to do with the great religions 
 of the world. It didn't refer to the case of a 
 sensible girl who finds herself particularly at- 
 tracted by a young man at a first meeting and 
 decides that she will not let him fall in love 
 with her because she realizes that the best loved 
 friend of her life is, or has been or ought to 
 be his affianced wife. Millicent, I'm ashamed 
 of you. After all the instruction you've had as 
 to the conduct of life and the behavior of young 
 women, this thing is ridiculous." 
 
 Nevertheless there was sadness in that inex- 
 perienced heart of hers, as she saw the carriage 
 reenter the house grounds, and herself ha- 
 stened to bed lest her friend should discover 
 her vigil. But if hers had not been the great 
 
MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS 315 
 
 renunciation, at least it had been a resolution 
 of loyalty and good faith, and perhaps in the 
 eyes of the angels the two things are very 
 nearly the same. Her exacting New England 
 conscience at any rate was satisfied, so that it 
 let her sleep, just as Margaret's Virginia con- 
 science different in kind but equally exigent 
 in its demands permitted slumber, sweet and 
 refreshing, to come to her. 
 
 When the morning came these two met, 
 each intently resolved to render to the other 
 the supreme service of sacrifice, and neither 
 dreaming of the other's thought. But in all 
 human affairs circumstance has its part to play, 
 and while it cannot alter purposes it often plays 
 havoc with results. It was so in this case. 
 Things happened, and the happening was more 
 decisive than the moonlight meditations of a 
 pair of maidens could possibly be. 
 
XXVII 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF JACK TOWNS 
 
 BOYD WESTOVER had the excellent 
 mental habit of attending carefully to 
 more than one thing at a time. 
 Just now he had the election on his hands, 
 and with it some problems of personal dignity 
 and repute that required his closest attention. 
 But he also had Wanalah plantation to look 
 after, and in view of his long absence he felt 
 that home affairs were pressing. 
 
 Accordingly he was up before the dawn, on 
 the morning after his arrival, and for half an 
 hour after dawn he waited, not at all patiently, 
 for the coming of his overseer, to whom he had 
 sent a summons over night to be with him " at 
 the crack of day." Then instead of waiting 
 longer, he mounted his horse and rode away 
 on a tour of inspection. 
 
 It was well after sunrise when he returned 
 316 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF TOWNS 317 
 
 to find the overseer hitching his horse to the 
 rack. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Mr. Wilkinson," he said; 
 " I had hoped to see you this morning." 
 
 " I'm sorry, sir, but I was very tired last 
 night." 
 
 " So was I. I had walked all through the 
 night before. Ne\rer mind that now. I wanted 
 to see you at dawn. The sun is now half an 
 hour high. That means that you have wasted 
 an hour and a half of my time, and my time 
 is just now precious." 
 
 " I'm very sorry, sir " 
 
 " Don't bother to apologize. I can't waste 
 any further time listening to excuses. Why 
 are you seeding the Gaston field in wheat? I 
 directed otherwise, you know." 
 
 " Well, sir, the fall has given us good 
 weather, and we can get in that two hundred 
 acres as well as not." 
 
 " But how about harvesting it ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'll manage that." 
 
 " Yes, by making the negroes work by 
 moonlight, as you did last summer to the ever- 
 lasting shame of Wanalah plantation, and just 
 
3 i8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 as you made too many hogsheads of tobacco 
 and too many barrels of corn to the hand. I 
 have told you before and I tell you now that 
 I will not have the hands over-worked. Is the 
 Gaston field seeded ? " 
 
 " No, sir. We begin on that to-day." 
 " Don't seed it. Let it lie fallow." 
 " But my gracious, Mr. Westover, " 
 " Never mind about your gracious. I tell 
 you not to seed that field. And another thing : 
 You planted seven hundred thousand hills of 
 tobacco last year. I want you to write it up 
 in your hat that four hundred thousand is 
 Wanalah's limit. I want you to understand 
 that this plantation is not run for money. If 
 it supports itself, giving a decent living to the 
 whites and blacks on it, I shall be satisfied. If 
 it doesn't quite do that, I'll find a way in which 
 to make up the deficiency. Now I want you 
 to give all the negroes on the plantation a 
 whole holiday to-morrow. I understand 
 there's to be a big picnic with all-day preach- 
 ing over at Mount Moriah church, and I want 
 everybody on the plantation to attend it. By 
 the way, Bob ! " calling to a passing negro, 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF TOWNS 319 
 
 " go at once and tell old Joe I want him to 
 kill two sheep good fat ones three shoats 
 and four turkeys this morning; tell him to 
 hang 'em in the ice house as soon as they're 
 dressed, and send them over to Mount 
 Moriah early to-morrow morning. Do you 
 hear?" 
 
 " Yassir ! " responded Bob, his mouth al- 
 ready watering for the share he expected to 
 eat of the good things thus promised. 
 
 " And, Bob, tell Uncle Joe to take them over 
 there himself and say that Mas' Boyd Westover 
 hopes the folks will have a good time and get 
 as much religion as they need." 
 
 " But, Boyd," said. Jack Towns, who had 
 sleepily strolled into the porch, " don't you 
 think " 
 
 " No, decidedly not, Jack. You see Wana- 
 lah is the plantation nearest to Mount Moriah, 
 and it's the natural base of supplies for a meet- 
 ing there. If I don't furnish the provender 
 they'll steal it out of my pasture, my pig pen 
 and my turkey yard. I very much prefer that 
 they should get the things honestly, and it costs 
 
320 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Then, returning to business, he said to the 
 overseer : 
 
 " You understand the general spirit of my 
 instructions, Mr. Wilkinson, and I beg you to 
 bear it in mind. I'll give more specific orders 
 from time to time, as they are needed." 
 
 " But what about me? " answered the over- 
 seer. " I've got a reputation for makin' more 
 tobacco to the hand an' more wheat to the acre 
 an' more corn on top o' that than any other 
 man as oversees a plantation anywheres for 
 forty mile around here." 
 
 "Well, what of it?" 
 
 " Well, it's this a ways. I ain't a-goin' to 
 lose a reputation I prides myself on. Ef you 
 don't want your niggers worked fer all they's 
 worth, perhaps you'd better look out fer an- 
 other overseer." 
 
 Westover flushed angrily, more at the tone 
 than at the words, and answered instantly: 
 
 " Perhaps I had. At any rate I will. I 
 shall not renew my contract with you for an- 
 other year." 
 
 The Virginians were very tolerant of inso- 
 lence on the part of a negro. Usually they 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF TOWNS 
 
 321 
 
 treated it as badinage, quite harmlessly and 
 humorously meant. But insolence on the part 
 of an overseer was always taken seriously and 
 instantly resented. The overseers constituted 
 a pariah class, for whom there was tolerance 
 only so long as they " minded their manners." 
 
 As the overseer lingered in hope of some 
 modification of the sentence he had brought 
 upon himself, Westover impatiently turned 
 upon him, saying : 
 
 " I think I have nothing more to say to you, 
 Mr. Wilkinson, and I wish to talk with Mr. 
 Towns. You may go now." 
 
 As the man walked down the road that led 
 to the outer gates, he muttered : 
 
 " I'll git back at him for that. He's a sneak- 
 in' abolitionist. I'll be over at Fighting Creek 
 to-morrow, seein's he's made it a holiday here." 
 
 " Now I want to talk with you, Jack," said 
 Westover when the man was well out of ear- 
 shot. 
 
 " So I understood you to say to Mr. Wil- 
 kinson; and you may go on and talk to me 
 till the cows come home, if it amuses you to do 
 so, but if you expect me to talk back in any 
 
322 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 rational way, you've simply got to wait till 
 after breakfast. When I've had two cups of 
 coffee, the best part of a roe herring, three or 
 four slices of cold ham, a wedge or two of hot 
 light bread, some beaten biscuit, and one of 
 your belated cantaloupes, I shall begin to ap- 
 preciate the fact that I have a brain. Till then 
 I decline to consider myself a rational being. 
 Go on and talk, if you want to." 
 
 " I will," answered Westover, passing into 
 the house. To one of the dining-room serv- 
 ants he said : 
 
 " Serve a pot of coffee to Mr. Towns imme- 
 diately, do you hear? Is it ready? " 
 
 Half a minute later Cilia appeared in the 
 porch bearing a tray with coffee and its ac- 
 cessories daintily arranged upon a napkin. 
 The servants at Wanalah had not yet lost their 
 memory of the training they had received in 
 youth. 
 
 " There," said Westover, " saturate your 
 soul and stimulate your system with coffee. 
 And by the way, there's a frost-bitten tomato 
 sliced up to deceive your eyes and your appe- 
 tite. How long before breakfast, Cilia? " 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF TOWNS 323 
 
 " It's a-bein' brung in now," answered the 
 serving girl, " all but the hot buckwheat cakes, 
 an' them'll come a little later." 
 
 It was the custom of the Virginians to talk 
 freely at table, paying no heed whatever to the 
 presence of their servitors. Accordingly, as 
 soon as Jack Towns began to discover his 
 brains again, under the influence of a breakfast 
 that might have made a chatterer of the Sphinx 
 itself, the two talked of plans. 
 
 " My first endeavor," said Westover, " will 
 be to compel Colonel Conway to declare him- 
 self. To that end, as soon as breakfast is done, 
 I shall send him a letter that will require a re- 
 sponse of some sort. You see, Jack, his atti- 
 tude is far more hurtful to me than the most 
 aggressive antagonism on his part could be. 
 Everybody knows that the Westovers and the 
 Conways have been the most intimate friends 
 possible throughout generations past. If he 
 and I had had a quarrel, everybody would un- 
 derstand. But we have had no quarrel, and so 
 nobody understands and everybody wonders. 
 If he believes I was guilty down there in Rich- 
 mond " 
 
324 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " He can't think that, unless he's an idiot 
 of extraordinary capacity for the lunatic mis- 
 interpretation of facts," interrupted Towns. 
 
 " Perhaps not. Still, I remember hearing a 
 ' Pennsylvania Dutch ' magistrate declare from 
 the bench that ' Nodings is possible mit Gott/ 
 and so it may be that. he believes that. If so 
 he has a perfect right to express his belief. 
 All I ask is that he shall say what it is he has 
 against me." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! Rot and rubbish ! 
 Scammony and gamboge! Moonlight, music, 
 love and flowers! Transcendentalism and 
 green cheese ! " exclaimed Jack Towns, multi- 
 plying words as a man of oratorical habit is 
 apt to do. " You know perfectly well that he 
 believes nothing of the sort. Recall our con- 
 versation of last night." 
 
 " I remember it perfectly, and that is why 
 I'm going to write to Colonel Conway this 
 morning. It may open the way to an expla- 
 nation." 
 
 " It may, of course. But if I were in your 
 place I'd write to Margaret instead." 
 
 " How can I ? I have written to her again 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF TOWNS 325 
 
 and again, and she has not answered. Self- 
 respect forbids me " 
 
 " I quite understand. It was self-respect 
 that caused a cat to lose an eye in a scrimmage 
 rather than explain to the other cat that the 
 fence he was sitting on was the personal prop- 
 erty of his own master. Never mind. If you 
 won't write to Margaret, write to her father 
 by all means. It may provoke a crisis of 
 some sort, and that is the one thing to be de- 
 sired just now." 
 
 But Boyd Westover was not destined to send 
 that letter. He toiled over it half the day and 
 more. He wrote it in forty different forms. 
 He used up more letter paper than had been 
 consumed at Wanalah during a year or more 
 past, but he could not get the thing into a shape 
 that would do. Finally he threw down his 
 pen and turning to Jack Towns said : 
 
 " The trouble is, Jack, that when I try to 
 formulate my complaint there isn't a thing to 
 challenge or question. Colonel Conway has 
 not been here to call upon me, but I cannot 
 decently complain of that. He has refused to 
 join with others in nominating me, but that too 
 
326 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 was his right and I cannot question it. The 
 whole thing is so negative that really there isn't 
 a point I can mention as a ground of com- 
 plaint." 
 
 "Yes? Well " 
 
 " Yes, well, what ? Why don't you say 
 something? " 
 
 " I will. I'll say that you're irritable to-day. 
 You showed it your confab with your overseer, 
 who is a very worthy man with an exaggerated 
 notion of the work a field hand ought to do in 
 a day. You showed it at breakfast, when you 
 complained because the buckwheat cakes didn't 
 make their appearance precisely on time. Is 
 there anything else you'd like me to say ? " 
 
 " Yes. What am I to do in this matter, 
 by way of bringing about a tolerable situa- 
 tion?" 
 
 " Why, nothing, of course. I could have told 
 you that this morning, but you wouldn't have 
 believed it then. Now that you've exhausted 
 your literary capacity and most of the Wana- 
 lah stationery in a futile effort to do the im- 
 possible, it may be worth my while to say to 
 you that in a case of this kind there is nothing 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF TOWNS 327 
 
 you can do except await events with due re- 
 spect for your own dignity. Shut up your 
 desk and send for some horses. Let's have a 
 gallop before dinner time. And by the way, 
 I'd like to ride that young iron gray mare 
 you've got in your stables. She impresses me 
 so favorably that I should buy her if she be- 
 longed to anybody who would sell." 
 
 " Why, when did you inspect her, Jack? I 
 hadn't a thought " 
 
 " I know you hadn't, but while you've been 
 busy at your desk, trying to accomplish the 
 impossible, I've been down to the stables and 
 had the mare out for inspection. She's a 
 beauty and, so far as I know the points of a 
 horse, she has all of them that are worth while. 
 She's a Red Eye of course? " 
 
 " Yes Red Eye and Nina. She's Nina's 
 own colt. I'll tell you what I'll do, Jack. If 
 you'll stay with me, making Wanalah your 
 home till this confounded election is over, 
 just to keep me sane, you know, the mare 
 shall be yours, as a souvenir of your safe re- 
 turn from the Rocky Mountains." 
 
 " Done! " exclaimed Jack. " But if I have 
 
328 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 to club you by way of keeping you sane, you 
 won't too greatly mind, will you ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. It's the clubbing I want. 
 Really, Jack, I often think I haven't quite 
 grown up and never shall. I have my full 
 complement of inches, of course, and I can be 
 dignified upon occasion, but when it comes to 
 emotional things, somehow " 
 
 " Somehow you're nothing but a romantic, 
 sentimental boy. I've heard you quote Keats 
 and Shelley when an arithmetic or a geography 
 would have been much more to the purpose. 
 I was born that way myself, and so you see 
 I understand your malady and sympathize with 
 you, but as for myself I've worked a complete 
 cure." 
 
 "How did you manage it, Jack?" asked 
 Westover in amused anticipation. 
 
 " Oh, easily enough. I have cultivated 
 catholicity of taste in the matter of girls. 
 You know all sentimentality in men has its ul- 
 timate origin in their attitude toward women. 
 Now in sentiment, as in everything else, mod- 
 eration is desirable and excess is destructive. 
 Realizing that fact I have cultivated modera- 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF TOWNS 329 
 
 tion, by falling madly in love with every pretty 
 young woman I have met, and with some pretty 
 old ones also. But as one encounters a rapid 
 succession of pretty young women, the habit 
 of falling in love with each of them is a se- 
 curely protective agency. You see I never 
 have time to become idiotically in love with 
 one young woman before meeting another 
 who knocks all that out of my head. To-day's 
 girl rescues me from yesterday's. It's a case 
 of one nail driving out another." 
 
 " You are the worst cynic I ever knew, 
 Jack." 
 
 " Perhaps I am. But I see the boys are here 
 with the horses. Let's be off and away, for- 
 getting philosophy and girls and pessimism 
 and moonlight and molasses candy for a time 
 at least. Is that a quarter of shoat Cilia is 
 toting from the ice-house ? In verity it is, and 
 a decent respect for its succulent attractiveness 
 should prompt us to arm ourselves and meet 
 it with an appetite. So here goes for a good 
 hard gallop, with stiff fences by the way." 
 
XXVIII 
 
 THE EVENTS OF A DAY 
 
 ONLY once had Westover been inter- 
 rupted during his hours of laborious 
 and futile effort to write his letter to 
 Colonel Conway. Jack Towns, being an ideal 
 guest, had occupied himself with books, strolls, 
 and other silent means of passing the time, so 
 that his host had been in no way reminded of 
 his existence. But the weather had not been 
 so unobtrusive a guest. Considerably before 
 noon there came a squall which for ten or fif- 
 teen minutes threatened destruction to every- 
 thing movable about the place. It unroofed a 
 cellar door at the back of the house. It car- 
 ried away the shed of a tobacco barn, and 
 curiously enough one of the cook's pigs, which 
 she was bringing up luxuriously on " pot 
 liquor and kitchen stuff," disappeared dur- 
 330 
 
THE EVENTS OF A DAY 331 
 
 ing the brief hurricane. Whether the obese 
 porker was really blown away, as most of 
 the house servants stoutly contended, or 
 whether it was that some colored person 
 with an appetite had simultaneously seized 
 the opportunity and the pig and got away 
 with both, was a point never accurately deter- 
 mined. 
 
 Boyd Westover cared nothing for damages 
 that might be repaired, but he was sorely dis- 
 tressed by the wreckage of a favorite mimosa 
 tree that flourished near one corner of the 
 porch. He even quitted his writing, when the 
 little squall had passed away, and with Jack 
 Towns's very inexpert assistance, attempted 
 some repairs. But when there arose the ques- 
 tion of sawing off a broken limb, he abandoned 
 the undertaking, saying: 
 
 " We'll leave that till Carley Farnsworth 
 comes. He's due here to-day to see some of 
 my people who are ill. He's a much better 
 horticulturist than either of us, Jack, and be- 
 sides he's a surgeon and will know better how 
 to give the poor tree a chance to grow into 
 symmetry again/' 
 
332 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Then, as he sorrowfully contemplated the 
 torn and broken mimosa, he muttered : 
 
 " I shouldn't have cared half so much if the 
 squall had blown away every barn I've got. 
 The ruin of that tree is all that it means to 
 me." 
 
 He little dreamed what other and immeas- 
 urably greater consequences were to come to 
 him as the result of that brief atmospheric dis- 
 turbance, but he was destined, after a time, to 
 find out. 
 
 When the two friends returned from their 
 ride of a dozen miles or so, bringing with them 
 a pair of wild turkey gobblers shot upon the 
 flush, they found Carley Farnsworth in the 
 hall, as the broad passageway through a Vir- 
 ginia house was called, very busily writing 
 upon small slips of paper, of which he had pre- 
 pared a considerable number before beginning 
 to write. He was too busy to give more than 
 a scant greeting to his friends, but in lieu of 
 greater cordiality he handed one of his written 
 slips to each, saying: 
 
 " Read that, and don't interrupt me, please. 
 I'm expecting a messenger every moment." 
 
THE EVENTS OF A DAY 333 
 On each of the slips was written : 
 
 " I am authorized by Colonel Robert Con- 
 way to add his name to the list of those who 
 urge Mr. Boyd Westover's election. 
 
 " (Signed) DON CARLOS FARNSWORTH." 
 
 As Westover and Towns looked wonder- 
 ingly at each other, after reading the slips, 
 Carley Farnsworth threw down his pen, ex- 
 claiming : 
 
 " There ! that's fifty. Talk will do the rest." 
 
 Then, filling and lighting a long-stemmed 
 pipe, he said to the others : 
 
 " Something has happened. Don't ask me 
 what it is, for I don't know. Yonder comes 
 Dick Ventress, and the slips are ready for him. 
 He has a pot of gum stick'em in his pocket 
 and he's going to paste those slips to all the 
 nominating placards within twenty miles be- 
 tween now and to-morrow morning. They'll 
 set everybody talking, and talk will do the 
 rest." 
 
 When Dick Ventress had received the papers 
 and galloped away, Carley vouchsafed some 
 
334 
 
 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 small and exceedingly unsatisfying explana- 
 tion. 
 
 " Something has happened at The Oaks,'* he 
 said. " I don't know what it is, but when I 
 got there to-day to attend Miss Margaret's 
 sick people, I found everybody agitated, Miss 
 Betsy in something like collapse, and Colonel 
 Conway littering up the house with the torn 
 fragments of letters he'd been trying to write 
 but couldn't. I gave him something to quiet 
 his nerves, and suggested that in his state of 
 mind perhaps literary endeavors were unadvis- 
 able. Presently he exclaimed : ' I'll arrange 
 the whole thing. I'll write a letter to 
 you/ 
 
 " With that he set to work and wrote 
 this." 
 
 He offered a sheet of paper on which was 
 written : 
 
 " DR. D. C. FARNSWORTH. 
 " My dear Sir: 
 
 " When you asked me to join you and oth- 
 ers in nominating Mr. Boyd Westover for 
 Senator, I felt bound to decline, for reasons 
 
THE EVENTS OF A DAY 335 
 
 which I did not, because I could not, offer. 
 Through very distressing and to me embar- 
 rassing circumstances, I now discover that I 
 have been acting under a misapprehension. 
 There are peculiar circumstances which forbid 
 me to explain myself further. I cannot do so 
 without injustice to others. But so far as Mr. 
 Boyd Westover is concerned I earnestly desire 
 to make such atonement as is still possible. 
 To that end I hereby authorize you to add my 
 name to the list of those who urge Mr. Boyd 
 Westover's election. You are free to make 
 this public in any and every way that may 
 seem to you desirable. If it were possible, I 
 should myself announce it from the platform 
 at Fighting Creek to-morrow. As it is I au- 
 thorize you to do so in my absence. I beg 
 you to use all the influence you can command 
 to spare me the necessity of explanation in 
 this case. I cannot explain. The situation is 
 the most distressing one possible to me. I 
 place it and myself in your hands, and I am 
 always, my dear Dr. Farnsworth, 
 " Your sincere friend, 
 
 " ROBERT CONWAY." 
 
336 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " There you have the whole story, so far as 
 I know anything about it," said the Doctor. 
 
 " I must say," said Jack Towns, " it is a 
 very manly effort to make reparation under 
 difficulties." 
 
 " Yes," answered Westover, " and that is 
 characteristic of Colonel Conway. I'd gladly 
 sacrifice the election in exchange for the priv- 
 ilege of reading that note. He is altogether 
 a man, and I must meet his manliness as a 
 man. I'll write to him at once." 
 
 " He does not invite that," said Jack Towns. 
 
 " On the contrary he forbids it," added 
 Carley Farnsworth, " and I forbid it in his 
 name. Your impulse is manly and generous, 
 Boyd, but you see he has asked me to use all 
 the influence I can to spare him the necessity 
 of explaining. A note from you would sim- 
 ply compel an explanation at his hands. It 
 was to avoid that that he tore up all the letters 
 he tried to write to you to-day. It is to avoid 
 that that he doesn't mount his horse and ride 
 over here to shake hands with you and tell 
 you about this thing, whatever it is. It is to 
 avoid that that he is going to absent himself 
 
THE EVENTS OF A DAY 337 
 
 from the meeting at Fighting Creek to-mor- 
 row, leaving me to announce his change of 
 mind in his stead. What do you think, Jack ? " 
 
 " Oh, there's only one thing to think. Un- 
 til Colonel Conway shall see fit to open direct 
 communication with Westover of Wanalah, it 
 will be an extreme and unpardonable imper- 
 tinence for Westover of Wanalah to address 
 any personal communication to him. Circum- 
 stances forbid it. Courtesy forbids it. Con- 
 sideration, conscience, common sense, conve- 
 nience, convention, custom, everything that 
 begins with a ' c ' or with any other letter of 
 the alphabet, forbids it." 
 
 " I suppose you two are right," answered 
 Westover, " but to a man of my temperament 
 it seems an ungracious thing not to recognize 
 in some personal way the courtesy Colonel 
 Conway has shown me. My impulse is to 
 write to him and thank him." 
 
 " Well, under the circumstances you 
 mustn't," said Carley Farnsworth, " and 
 you're lucky, Boyd, to have sane friends to 
 advise and control you." 
 
 " I reckon I am. But really, Carley, what 
 
338 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 do you suppose has happened over at The 
 Oaks?" 
 
 " I am doing no supposing. It may be any- 
 thing or nothing. We Virginians all but 
 Jack Towns and me are so emotional, so 
 sentimental, so chivalric if you prefer the term, 
 that I long ago ceased my efforts to make a 
 diagnosis of things of that sort. I only know 
 that the Colonel is wrought up to a pitch that 
 requires the remedy of going to bed, and that 
 everybody else at The Oaks is correspondingly 
 wrought up. Everybody except that thor- 
 oughly admirable Boston girl, Miss Danvers. 
 She has a head, and she keeps it poised above 
 her shoulders. If I hadn't an entirely satis- 
 factory wife of my own in prospect, though 
 not yet in possession, I should be strongly 
 tempted to persuade that girl to stay south 
 of Mason and Dixon's line. As it is, I really 
 think some other fellow ought to do that as 
 a service to Virginia society. Miss Danvers 
 is a true blue, a thoroughbred. She has char- 
 acter, manners, breeding, beauty, simplicity, 
 honesty, sincerity, loyalty, good sense, and all 
 the other qualities that go to make a woman 
 
THE EVENTS OF A DAY 339 
 
 admirable. She is the only person who knows 
 what the ruction over at The Oaks was, and 
 she's the only one there capable of handling 
 the situation sanely. She seems to have every- 
 body there well in hand, and to be controlling 
 all of them wisely. She has a persuasive gift 
 that astonished me when she actually got Colo- 
 nel Conway to go to bed in the middle of the 
 afternoon, and induced Margaret to do the 
 same thing as a precaution against a nervous 
 breakdown that was clearly threatened. I had 
 ordered both those goings to bed, with all the 
 authority of a medical adviser, but to no pur- 
 pose. When I spoke to that Boston girl about 
 it, she answered gently but confidently : ' If 
 you think that advisable, Doctor, I will see 
 that it is done,' and by Jove she did the trick 
 so promptly that before I left I saw them both 
 in bed, and gave each of them a sleeping po- 
 tion that will keep them quiet for many hours 
 to come." 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances, Jack Towns 
 would have declared his purpose to go over 
 to The Oaks at once and make love to the 
 Boston girl. For some reason, on this occa- 
 
340 
 
 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 sion, he shrank from all jesting. He had 
 talked for an hour with Millicent Danvers on 
 the evening before. He wanted now to talk 
 with her for another hour, but, contrary to 
 his custom, he said nothing of his purpose. 
 He went to dinner with the other two, and 
 after the dinner was done he slipped away to 
 the stables, mounted the superb mare that was 
 now his, and rode away to The Oaks. 
 
XXIX 
 
 THE WORK OF A WILD WIND 
 
 HIS is the story of what the wind- 
 storm did at The Oaks, to disturb the 
 
 T 
 
 usual placidity of life there. 
 
 It was Aunt Betsy's custom, as it was that 
 of many or most other women in Virginia, to 
 write a multitude of " notes " each day, some 
 of them filling six or eight sheets of paper, 
 with criss-crossings to make them seem unde- 
 cipherably interesting, and to despatch them by 
 young negroes on bare-backed horses to their 
 more or less neighborly destination. A sta- 
 tistical economist once made a careful reckon- 
 ing by which he convinced himself that this 
 practice cost the planter families of Virginia 
 about seven and one-half times the amount 
 they contributed in stamps to the postal rev- 
 enues of the nation. 
 
 It was the practice of the young women 
 341 
 
342 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 of the plantations to write all these letters 
 before breakfast. It was Aunt Betsy's more 
 leisurely practice to write them whenever she 
 pleased, and she usually pleased to write them 
 between ten o'clock in the morning and the 
 one o'clock hour that was sacred to the lunch- 
 eon known in Virginia as " snack." 
 
 On the morning of the happening at The 
 Oaks, the day being sufficiently warm, Aunt 
 Betsy brought out her desk an oblong box 
 which when opened offered a slanting writing 
 surface, with spaces below its lids for letter 
 paper, envelopes, and papers of every kind. 
 Women usually laid these so-called " desks " 
 upon their laps and managed somehow to write 
 there, as no man ever could have done. But 
 it was Aunt Betsy's habit also to retire into the 
 house now and then upon occasions of real or 
 imagined necessity, and in anticipation of such 
 interruptions she always had a slender-legged 
 stand at hand a thing " drunkenly artistic," 
 as Boyd Westover had once said upon 
 which to place her desk whenever she was 
 minded to suspend her writing for a while. 
 
 On the morning in question she had a gown 
 
WITH THE FIRST ONSET OF THE WIND. Page 343, 
 
WORK OF A WILD WIND 
 
 343 
 
 in course of construction by her seamstresses, 
 who were working in the back porch with a 
 room opening off it which her modesty used 
 for purposes of " fitting " and " trying on." 
 
 She had therefore frequent occasion to sus- 
 pend her writing. 
 
 It was during one of her most exigent fits 
 of trying on that the squall struck the place. 
 As a good deal of thunder and lightning ac- 
 companied the weather disturbance, and as 
 Aunt Betsy was possessed of that sort of cow- 
 ardice concerning thunder and lightning which 
 persons so afflicted call " nervousness," she 
 promptly shut herself up in a dark closet and 
 remained there until the squall had passed 
 away. 
 
 But with the first onset of the wind the 
 frail table on which she had left her open desk 
 toppled over; the desk was whirled out into 
 the grounds and dashed against a tree with a 
 force that instantly reduced it to splinters, 
 while its contents correspondence and curl 
 papers alike were scattered, if not to the 
 four winds, at least to the one wind which was 
 blowing with demoniacal fury. 
 
344 
 
 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Margaret and Millicent who had just re- 
 turned from a morning stroll rushed fran- 
 tically, picturesquely and, in an unconscious 
 way, gracefully, to the rescue. The desk 
 was in fragments and far past praying for; 
 but by a deal of scurrying the two girls and 
 some of the house servants managed to collect 
 the scattered papers and place them upon a 
 table within, while Aunt Betsy was still en- 
 sconced in her dark closet, waiting for the last 
 rumble of the thunder to cease. As Millicent 
 deposited her share of the spoils upon the 
 table, she looked at Margaret with frightened 
 eyes and said : 
 
 " Please send everybody out of the room 
 but you and me/' 
 
 For Millicent had not yet accustomed her- 
 self to talk freely in the presence of servants 
 as if they were deaf, dumb, and blind, incapa- 
 ble of understanding what might be said in 
 their presence and therefore incapable of re- 
 peating it. That habit of the Virginians had 
 its origin probably in two facts : they never 
 said anything that they were afraid to stand 
 by; and the negro was not, in law or in fact, 
 
WORK OF A WILD WIND 345 
 
 permitted to testify against a white person. In 
 the courts his testimony was barred by statute ; 
 in social life it was even more absolutely 
 barred by convention. No negro ventured to 
 report anything he had heard white people 
 say, and if he had done so, no white person 
 would for one moment have listened to him. 
 To have done that would have been to invite 
 and incur absolute and eternal ostracism. 
 
 But Millicent, brought up in a totally dif- 
 ferent atmosphere, could never accustom her- 
 self to this, and so she asked to have the serv- 
 ants dismissed from the room before saying 
 what she had to say about the papers in her 
 hand. Margaret smiled at the request, but 
 after the revelation was made she rejoiced 
 that it had been preferred and acted upon. 
 
 When the servants had left the room, Milli- 
 cent held out a handful of letters that she had 
 picked up in the wild scramble of rescue. 
 
 " There is something wrong here, Mar- 
 garet," she said in her open, honest way. 
 " Some of these are unopened letters ad- 
 dressed to you letters that bear stamps and 
 post marks, letters that have come through the 
 
346 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 mail. These others are sealed letters ad- 
 dressed in your handwriting to Mr. Boyd 
 Westover. They are stamped, but they bear 
 no postmarks. They have never been mailed." 
 
 She stood silent for a moment, rigid with 
 an indignation that she knew not how to ex- 
 press in words. 
 
 Meanwhile Margaret stood looking at the 
 letters, dazed, pale to the lips, paralyzed. Then 
 she looked from the letters to Millicent and 
 the girl thought she was dying or already dead, 
 so white was her face at first and so livid a 
 moment later. 
 
 With the womanly instinct of ministry, re- 
 inforced by a passionate impulse of friendship, 
 Millicent passed around the table, threw her 
 arm about the stricken girl and gently forced 
 her to lie upon one of the broad lounges or 
 settees, or whatever else they should be called, 
 that in those days invited repose in every 
 dining room and every hallway of the planta- 
 tion houses. 
 
 With that ready appreciation of necessity 
 which is characteristic of womanhood, she 
 went to the sideboard, poured a thimble glass 
 
WORK OF A WILD WIND 347 
 
 of sherry and compelled Margaret to drink 
 it. Then she tinkled a bell and when the serv- 
 ant appeared gave quick, concise orders for the 
 summoning of Margaret's maid and other 
 strong-armed servitors. 
 
 " You must get your mistress to bed at 
 once," she commanded, " and send some one 
 to summon Dr. Farnsworth quickly. He's at 
 the lower quarters." 
 
 But Margaret, rising to a sitting position, 
 promptly negatived all this. Sustained by 
 wrath, indignation, resentment of insult, and 
 by outraged pride, she forced upon herself the 
 calm control that for the moment she had lost, 
 though only for the moment. With that in- 
 stinct of race, that courage, that self-mastery 
 that had been always a precious possession 
 of the Conways, she dismissed the superfluous 
 servants who had hastened to her upon hearing 
 that she was in trouble, and assumed control 
 of the situation. 
 
 " Thank you, Millicent, dear, for bringing 
 those letters to me. They are mine, and I 
 will dispose of them. Diana, bring me my 
 desk, please." 
 
348 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 When the desk was placed before. her she 
 selected a sheet of paper and an envelope as 
 calmly as if she had meant to send a note to 
 Hallie Harvey or any other girl friend, asking 
 her for the proper count of stitches in a piece 
 of fancy knitting work. 
 
 Then she wrote upon the sheet of paper, 
 this note: 
 
 " AUNT BETSY : Your desk was blown 
 out into the grounds and wrecked, during the 
 squall. We have gathered up the fragments 
 of the desk and rescued all the widely scat- 
 tered papers. I am sending you all of them 
 that in any way belong to you. Those that 
 belong to me I am keeping. I send you this 
 note, instead of seeing you in person, because 
 your maid tells me you have gone to bed. 
 
 " MARGARET." 
 
 She sent the note, sealed, by the hand of 
 a maid, and she sent with it the entire paper 
 contents of the wrecked desk, except the un- 
 opened letters of Boyd Westover to herself 
 and her own unopened letters to him. These 
 
WORK OF A WILD WIND 349 
 
 she gathered together into a bundle which she 
 thrust into her corsage. 
 
 Then she turned to a servant and gave the 
 order : 
 
 " Send to the stables for saddle horses for 
 your Miss Millicent and me. We are going 
 for a ride." 
 
 To Millicent she said under her breath : 
 " You must go with me, dear. I must control 
 myself or I shall not be able to carry this thing 
 through to the end with dignity. I must have 
 a dash on horseback. You don't mind, do you, 
 dear?" 
 
 "Mind? I mind, Margaret? Why, you 
 know that I would ride to the ends of the earth 
 with you and for you, even under ordinary 
 circumstances. Now that you're in trouble, 
 of course I am ready. I don't know the facts 
 though I guess some of them and I don't 
 understand all that these things mean, but I 
 know you have been wronged, outraged, 
 placed in a false position, humiliated by some 
 trespass upon your privacy or your personal- 
 ity, and I am here to stand by you till the 
 wrong is righted, the outrage undone, and the 
 
350 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 humiliation lifted from your spirit. I'll do 
 anything, everything oh, Margaret, you 
 don't know how I love you or how eager I 
 am to help you ! " 
 
 Margaret looked at her with loving and 
 teary eyes. Presently she said : 
 
 " I know it all, dear. And yet you Yankees 
 are supposed to be cold and calculating and 
 hard. How utterly mistaken people are in 
 their judgments ! But here are the horses. 
 We'll have a spin, and then " 
 
 She paused as if in doubt and apprehension. 
 Presently she added : 
 
 " And then I must confront my father. He 
 is the proper person and he must set this thing 
 right." 
 
 After a brisk gallop of half a mile, Mar- 
 garet reined her horse down to a walk, and 
 entered into conversation with her friend. 
 
 " I feel, Millicent," she began, " that I ought 
 to take you completely into my confidence, and 
 tell you all that this thing means. Your loy- 
 alty and your affection deserve that. But 
 there are reasons which I cannot explain that 
 forbid so full a confidence. I am going to 
 
WORK OF A WILD WIND 
 
 351 
 
 tell you all I can, and I want you to believe 
 and know that whatever reserves I practise are 
 practised solely for your sake." 
 
 " But how can that be, Margaret ? Of 
 course you are to tell me as much or as little 
 as you please, but " 
 
 " I see. I can't explain. I can only sa>/ 
 that if I practise reserve at all, it is only be- 
 cause of my tender affection for you. Can 
 you believe that blindly, without explanation? 
 And will you? " 
 
 " I believe whatever you tell me, Margaret, 
 and I do not wish to hear anything that for 
 any reason you do not wish me to hear." 
 
 " Thank you, dear," said the agitated girl 
 as she again pressed her horse to his paces; 
 " God help me if I'm wrong ! " 
 
 There was so strong a suggestion of trag- 
 edy in the girl's tone that Millicent felt herself 
 called upon to interfere with Margaret's pur- 
 pose, which she instinctively understood and 
 which seemed to her scarcely less than suicidal. 
 She said nothing so long as the horses were 
 moving swiftly. When they resumed the walk, 
 she turned to her companion and asked : 
 
352 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Do you believe in my friendship, Mar- 
 garet, and do you trust its loyalty so far as to 
 forgive an impertinence in its behalf? " 
 
 " I certainly do, Millicent. I could 
 never " 
 
 " Listen, then, and don't interrupt. I know 
 far more about this matter than anybody has 
 ever told me. My woman's instinct has in- 
 structed me. It may be in error as to details, 
 but I am right as to the essentials, and in such 
 a case it is the essentials alone that need be 
 considered. I'll tell you the story of the situ- 
 ation as I understand it. You are not a woman 
 to love lightly, or lightly to forget." 
 
 Margaret well nigh fell from her horse as 
 she heard her own passionately uttered words 
 thus repeated in merely explanatory fashion, 
 but in a moment she realized that this was 
 purely a coincidence. Millicent had chosen the 
 words for herself; she could not have heard 
 them as a quotation. 
 
 ff There may be many fancies to a woman 
 like you, but there can be only one passionate, 
 self-giving, all-surrendering love. It is com- 
 monly said that there is no such thing as self- 
 
WORK OF A WILD WIND 353 
 
 sacrificing loyalty or friendship between women 
 that while we may heroically sacrifice our- 
 selves for the love of a man we never sac- 
 rifice that love in loyalty to a woman. It is 
 a slander on our sex. I accepted it as true 
 until very recently ; indeed I saw many things 
 to confirm it. I know better now." 
 
 She paused for a considerable time, but 
 Margaret did not prompt her to go on. Per- 
 haps she foresaw what was coming, and at 
 any rate she saw clearly that there was strug- 
 gle and disturbance in Millicent's mind. 
 
 After awhile the girl resumed : 
 
 4 The one love of your life, Margaret, is 
 for Mr. Boyd Westover. It began long be- 
 fore you knew it and it will last as long as 
 you live. Now I am going to make a shame- 
 ful confession," she added. Then she broke 
 into a gallop, but when the horses resumed 
 a moderate pace she did not make the con- 
 fession. Perhaps she shrank from it. Perhaps 
 she deemed it unnecessary. Perhaps she 
 thought its making might tend rather to com- 
 plicate than to simplify the problems in hand. 
 However that may be, she made no further 
 
354 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 reference to the matter, but took up her para- 
 ble where she had laid it down. 
 
 " Something, I don't know what yes, I 
 do, but I don't know why has come between 
 you and Mr. Boyd Westover. I am not blind, 
 and I think I am not stupid. There were 
 unopened letters there from him to you, and 
 other unopened letters from you to him. With- 
 out asking anybody any questions I know that 
 for some reason somebody has sought to cut 
 off communication between him and you. I 
 see clearly that that purpose has been accom- 
 plished, and I see that as a consequence he 
 has been thinking you fickle and treacher- 
 ous, as women so often are, and you have 
 been thinking him disloyal and dishonor- 
 able." 
 
 " No, no, no," interrupted Margaret. " I 
 have never accused him of disloyalty or dis- 
 honor, even in my wildest moments of per- 
 plexity and distress. I have never for one 
 moment doubted his honor. It is only that 
 I have been unable to conjecture why he left 
 me in silence, when in fact he was writing 
 great, manly, loving letters to me every day. 
 
WORK OF A WILD WIND 355 
 
 Oh, Millicent, it was cruel, and I can never 
 forgive " 
 
 She did not need mention the name. 
 
 " You haven't read Mr. Westover's un- 
 opened letters," suggested Millicent. 
 
 " No, I have no right now. They were 
 written in the past, when he loved and trusted 
 me. He, might not wish me to read them now. 
 He might not feel in the same way toward me 
 now that he did then." 
 
 " That's stuff and nonsense, I think, Mar- 
 garet. I really do. If I were you I should read 
 the letters carefully. Then I should sit down 
 and write to Mr. Boyd Westover, enclosing 
 the letters you wrote to him at that time and 
 explaining how all the trouble had come 
 about." 
 
 " That would never, never do. It would 
 be throwing myself like a cast-off garment at 
 his feet. It would be asking him to renew 
 relations that he may have been glad to for- 
 get." 
 
 " You say that, Margaret, but you don't be- 
 lieve it. Neither do I." 
 
 " I think, Millicent, you don't understand 
 
356 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 our conventionalities down here. It would be 
 impossible for any Virginia girl, under such 
 circumstances, to take the initiative in reopen- 
 ing relations. That is the prerogative of the 
 gentleman in the case." 
 
 " But when the gentleman doesn't know the 
 facts, and the woman does, what then? " 
 
 " That makes no possible difference." 
 
 " You are right on one point, Margaret. I 
 do not understand your conventions, nor do I 
 in the least sympathize with them. They are 
 shams and falsities, as all conventionalities are, 
 and they are cruel beyond measure. They 
 decree that where a mistake has been made 
 and the woman discovers it, she must let wreck 
 and ruin overwhelm two lives her own and 
 that of the man she loves rather than send 
 to him .a simple and easy explanation of the 
 mistake that has made the trouble. No, I do 
 not understand such conventions. What are 
 you going to do ? " 
 
 " I'll place the whole thing in my father's 
 hands, and he shall do what he will with it." 
 
 " And as to the one who has wrought all 
 this mischief?" 
 
WORK OF A WILD WIND 
 
 357 
 
 " My relations with my Aunt Betsy will be 
 changed. Come! We must hurry back to 
 the house. I want my father to know what 
 has happened." 
 
 They trotted on for a space, when suddenly 
 Millicent reined in her horse and Margaret 
 stopped in company, for Millicent had come to 
 a complete halt in the roadway. For a mo- 
 ment the two confronted each other without 
 a word, for Millicent, sitting on her horse with 
 compressed lips and set jaw, did not at first 
 explain herself. After a while she said : 
 
 " I cannot sit idly by and see two glorious 
 young lives wrecked when a next to nothing 
 would save both. I am a Yankee, of Boston, 
 but so was Paul Revere. Let me have those 
 letters. Ask me no questions, but let me ride 
 as Paul Revere did ! " 
 
 For a moment Margaret hesitated. The 
 temptation was very great, but she put it 
 aside. 
 
 " That would never do, Millicent," she said. 
 " I understand your loving loyalty and I am 
 grateful for it, but that would never do. To 
 Mr. Westover you would be my emissary, no 
 
358 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 matter what you might say. It would be the 
 same as if I went to him myself." 
 
 " Is your decision final, or may I argue the 
 matter?" Millicent asked. 
 
 " It is final," Margaret answered, and not 
 another word was spoken during the remain- 
 der of the homeward journey. 
 
XXX 
 
 WHAT HAD HAPPENED AT THE OAKS 
 
 THAT little jaunt on horseback that 
 Margaret, with her friend, took by 
 way of steadying her nerves, was 
 perhaps a mistake. If she had gone to her 
 father at once, while " Aunt Betsy " was 
 making herself comfortable in bed, the impul- 
 sive old gentleman would have been off on 
 a journey to Wanalah within five minutes, and 
 his intent to explain and make reparation 
 would have accomplished its purpose instantly. 
 But Margaret went riding instead, and no 
 sooner did " Aunt Betsy " learn of the fact 
 than she made a quick recovery from her ill- 
 ness, and almost before the two young women 
 were out of sight of the house, " Aunt Betsy," 
 tearful and in every other way appealing, was 
 closeted with Colonel Conway. She thus 
 359 
 
360 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 gained the distinct advantage of being first on 
 the ground. Her tears and her agitation ap- 
 pealed strongly to the protective instinct of 
 the chivalric old soldier. She told him in her 
 own way what had happened, diverting his 
 attention from her own misconduct by lamen- 
 tations and copious weepings and protestations 
 that in all she had done she had sought only 
 to protect the honor and dignity of the family 
 and to prevent Margaret " an unformed 
 girl " from compromising herself in her ig- 
 norance of the world. 
 
 It would be too much to say that she con- 
 vinced her brother of the righteousness of her 
 conduct. Tampering with letters even 
 without reading them was to him a point 
 of special sensitiveness, and there were other 
 matters involved which he could in no wise 
 reconcile with his conceptions of honorable 
 conduct. But he recognized the weakness of 
 women as a palliation of misconduct, and his 
 sister's tearful appeals to him for the protec- 
 tion of her dignity affected him in the tender- 
 est part of his nature. 
 
 He was profoundly displeased with her, but 
 
AT THE OAKS 361 
 
 she was his sister, nevertheless, and he was 
 her natural protector. It was his duty and his 
 desire to spare her, so far as might be possible, 
 but he felt also the obligation to censure and 
 correct her. 
 
 " You have done a gravely improper thing, 
 Betsy," he said, with sternness and tenderness 
 struggling for mastery in his tone. " Indeed 
 what you have done is unpardonable, inex- 
 cusable, except that as a woman you did not 
 know the enormity of your act." 
 
 " That is the main point, Robert," she in- 
 terrupted, " and I beg you to bear it in mind. 
 All I did was done with good intentions. I 
 am naturally solicitous for the honor of our 
 family, and I " 
 
 " And you did a dishonorable thing in that 
 behalf," he said with severity in his tone. 
 " In your desire to protect the family 
 name you did a thing that would forever 
 subject it to shame, if it should become 
 known." 
 
 "That is it, Robert. It mustn't become 
 known. I depend upon you, as the head of 
 the family, to prevent that. Blame me as 
 
362 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 severely as you will, but don't expose me, don't 
 subject me to criticism and scorn! Oh, Rob- 
 ert, I beg you to protect me ! " 
 
 " I'll protect you of course," he replied, 
 " but you have made it difficult and exceed- 
 ingly embarrassing for me to do so. I have 
 my own conscience to reckon with. You have 
 made me do things, in ignorance of the facts 
 I may as well be frank and say you have 
 deliberately deceived me into the doing of 
 wrongs for which I know not how to atone 
 or even apologize. If you were not my sister, 
 if you were not under my protection, if I 
 could be indifferent to your feelings my 
 course would be simple and easy. A frank, 
 manly statement of the facts would exorierate 
 me. As it is " 
 
 " As it is, Robert, you cannot subject your 
 sister to humiliation. You must protect me 
 from shame. You must take pains that what 
 has happened shall never be known outside 
 this house ! " 
 
 It was at this stage of the conversation that 
 Margaret entered. " Aunt Betsy," confident 
 that she had secured herself, said : 
 
AT THE OAKS 363 
 
 " I will leave you to talk with your father, 
 Margaret, if you desire." 
 
 " No," the young woman answered ; " I 
 prefer that you should remain. I, at least, 
 have nothing to conceal, and I do not seek, as 
 you do, to get my father's ear in private. Be- 
 sides, I have some things to say to you, and I 
 prefer to say them in my father's presence. I 
 am mistress of The Oaks. Hitherto, out of a 
 respect which you have not justified, I have 
 permitted you to exercise certain functions 
 that belong to me. I shall do so no longer. 
 I have given directions that hereafter I will 
 make up the outgoing mail bag and open the 
 incoming one." 
 
 " But, my dear child " 
 
 " I am not a child, Aunt Betsy. You have 
 made some grievous mistakes in forgetfulness 
 of that fact. It shall not be forgotten again 
 while I remain mistress of this plantation. 
 What was it you were going to say, Aunt 
 Betsy? I beg pardon for interrupting, but it 
 seemed necessary." 
 
 " I was going to ask what the servants will 
 think." 
 
364 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " I do not know what they will think, Aunt 
 Betsy." 
 
 " On that point I must appeal to your fa- 
 ther," " Aunt Betsy " replied. 
 
 " On that point it is very dangerous for you 
 to appeal," answered the younger woman, still 
 preserving an extraordinary calm that was at 
 once astonishing and alarming to her aunt, 
 but speaking with a degree of emphasis that 
 suggested something behind the words. 
 
 " What do you mean? Explain yourself," 
 said " Aunt Betsy," in that authoritative tone 
 which she had all her life employed in address- 
 ing her niece. 
 
 " I will explain if you wish," Margaret an- 
 swered ; " but I'd rather spare you the ex- 
 planation." 
 
 " I insist upon knowing what you mean," 
 the elder woman unwisely replied. 
 
 " Very well, then ; you shall hear. In addi- 
 tion to the wrong you have done me, wrecking 
 my life and placing me in a grievously false 
 position; in addition to the wrong you have 
 done to another, you have been guilty of the 
 crime of robbing the United States mails, 
 
AT THE OAKS 365 
 
 Aunt Betsy, and as the minimum penalty of 
 that crime is a long term in prison, I do not 
 think it wise of you to suggest appeals in this 
 case. It will be better, I think, to accept my 
 decision as final." 
 
 The old lady rose in wrath, alarm, indig- 
 nation and all the other emotions of an exci- 
 ting sort, and demanded to know what her 
 niece meant by such an accusation of infamy. 
 At the same time Colonel Conway exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, daughter, daughter, you do not mean 
 what you say. Take it back! You are ex- 
 cited. You are beside yourself ! " 
 
 " I am not in the least excited," the young 
 woman answered. " I did not wish or intend 
 to mention that aspect of the matter, but Aunt 
 Betsy insisted upon it. I have no desire to 
 emphasize it or to insist upon it, if only my 
 authority as mistress at The Oaks is properly 
 recognized. As your daughter, Father, I am 
 entitled to that dignity which you yourself 
 have been fond of insisting upon ; and as your 
 daughter I intend to exercise the authority and 
 maintain the dignity of that position so long 
 as you permit me to hold it. When you cease 
 
366 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 to permit that, I shall leave The Oaks and go 
 to my own plantation of Tye, which my 
 mother left me. You must remember that I 
 am a grown woman of twenty-one, and that 
 I am not a dependent upon anybody." 
 
 " Now, daughter," interrupted Colonel Con- 
 way with affection, " you are talking nonsense. 
 You know that you are mistress of The Oaks, 
 and " 
 
 " That is quite all I am insisting upon. As 
 mistress of The Oaks I do not intend to have 
 my authority questioned or my affairs inter- 
 fered with by anybody. I'm sorry I have this 
 occasion to assert myself, but the circumstances 
 are not of my making." 
 
 " But what do you mean, you you you 
 ill-regulated girl, in charging me with a 
 crime ? " almost shrieked the elder woman as 
 she confronted her niece in an attitude that 
 suggested a desire to shake her. "What do 
 you mean ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " You'd better let that phase of the affair 
 drop, Aunt Betsy," answered the girl with a 
 calm that additionally exasperated her aunt. 
 
 " No, I will not let it drop. You have ut- 
 
IT WILL, BE BETTER, I THINK, TO ACCEPT MY DECISION AS FINAL.' 
 
 Page 365. 
 
AT THE OAKS 367 
 
 tered an accusation that I cannot and will not 
 let pass. You must say what you meant by it." 
 
 " I will say it if you insist," answered Mar- 
 garet, still preserving her exasperating calm. 
 
 " I do insist. I will not rest under such an 
 accusation. Go on ! Tell me what you meant." 
 
 " I will," said Margaret. " You remember 
 that five years ago an attempt was made to 
 open our mail bag in some political interest. 
 Father appealed to the Government for its 
 protection, and from that day to this it has 
 gone back and forth under a United States 
 mail lock. In tampering with its contents 
 in abstracting from it letters addressed to me, 
 you I don't like to put the matter into plain 
 words. Let me say instead that you violated 
 the law which renders the United States mail 
 sacred. I'm sorry I have had to call your 
 attention to such a matter, but you forced the 
 necessity upon me." 
 
 By this time it was necessary to summon 
 maids and get " Aunt Betsy " back to bed 
 again, genuinely ill this time. 
 
 It was not until she was made as comfort- 
 able as circumstances permitted, that Colonel 
 
3 68 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Conway and his daughter returned to the 
 library and resumed their conversation. 
 
 " Now, daughter," said the old soldier, " I 
 am ready to do anything to right this wrong 
 anything, of course, that will not compro- 
 mise your aunt." 
 
 " Father," responded the girl with a world 
 of tenderness in her voice, " you ought not to 
 have anything to do in the matter. It is Aunt 
 Betsy who has wrought all the mischief. She 
 has deceived you; she has deceived me; she 
 has deceived Mr. Westover. It should be her 
 duty, not yours, to undo the wrong she has 
 done." 
 
 " But, my dear daughter, how can she ? 
 She is a woman." 
 
 " I know that, Father, and I know our Vir- 
 ginian view of such things. But it is all 
 wrong. You men of Virginia have granted 
 to us women a license that ought not to be. 
 If one of us utters a slander, you hold your- 
 selves responsible for it even unto death. If 
 one of us lies it isn't a ladylike term, I 
 know, but it is what I mean if one of us 
 lies you hold yourselves bound to maintain the 
 
AT THE OAKS 369 
 
 lie and answer for it, even at the pistol's point. 
 You Virginia gentlemen insist upon only one 
 point of honor for women. So long as we 
 observe that, we may lie and cheat and slander 
 at will and you sustain us in it. It is all wrong. 
 If a woman does mischief, she should herself 
 atone for it. In this case it is Aunt Betsy who 
 has wrought the wrong and it is Aunt Betsy 
 who should undo it." 
 
 " But how can she, dear? " 
 
 " By going to Mr. Westover, or writing to 
 him, and saying frankly : ' I robbed the post 
 bag of your letters to Margaret and her letters 
 to you.' That is what a brave man would do. 
 Why should not a brave woman do the same ? " 
 
 " But, daughter, your aunt is a lady and 
 excessively sensitive." 
 
 " She forgot to be a lady when she did this 
 infamous thing, and her sensitiveness is mainly 
 a pretence assumed to play upon your chivalry 
 and to deceive you and others. If she were 
 honest in mind, a real, genuine, conscientious 
 sensitiveness would prompt her to make pre- 
 cisely the reparation I have suggested. As 
 she is utterly dishonest and dishonorable in- 
 
370 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 stead, I quite understand that no force, moral 
 or physical, could ever compel her to an act 
 of reparation like that." 
 
 " My dear, you are very hard upon your 
 poor old aunt." 
 
 " Not at all, Father. Truth is as much an 
 obligation of women as of men. So is courage 
 of the moral sort. But it is idle to expect that 
 after generations in which you gentlemen of 
 Virginia have excused us from all obligations 
 except that of chastity. You have assumed 
 our protection, and you have met that obliga- 
 tion bravely ; but well, I have thought much 
 on that subject, and what I have thought is of 
 no consequence. What are you going to do 
 by way of righting the wrong Aunt Betsy has 
 done, as you excuse her from the obligation of 
 herself righting it? " 
 
 " I'll do anything you suggest anything 
 that will not compromise your aunt. You see 
 I must protect her." 
 
 " I understand. The one who has wrought 
 the wrong must be spared the consequences. 
 The victims of it must bear them. I have noth- 
 ing whatever to suggest, Father." 
 
AT THE OAKS 371 
 
 And with that she advanced, kissed him 
 tenderly, said : 
 
 " Poor, dear old Dad ! " and quietly left the 
 room. 
 
 Then it was that Colonel Conway set him- 
 self to satisfy his daughter's conscience and his 
 own by writing a letter to Boyd Westover. 
 Then it was that, after repeated failures, he 
 compromised with his conscience by writing 
 to Dr. Carley Farnsworth instead. 
 
 Then it was that under Dr. Carley Farns- 
 worth's instructions Millicent Danvers sent 
 Colonel Conway and Margaret to bed. 
 
 " Aunt Betsy " was already sleeping the 
 sleep of one who feels that she has adroitly 
 escaped uncomfortable consequences. 
 
XXXI 
 
 A SUNSET INTERVIEW 
 
 THE days were growing short, and so 
 when Jack Towns approached The 
 Oaks that afternoon, the sun was set- 
 ting and Millicent was watching it from a little 
 hilltop just beyond the orchard and perhaps 
 half a mile from the house. 
 
 Jack came upon her there and was fascinated 
 with the picture she presented. With her head 
 bare and her hair in some disorder as a result 
 of facing the west wind too fearlessly, she 
 wore upon her shoulders a voluminous mass 
 of fleecy knitted work known in those days as 
 a " nubia," or, by those who preferred good 
 English to very bad dog-Latin, a " cloud." 
 As he approached from the east he saw her 
 figure silhouetted against the glowing western 
 sky, and the grace of it fascinated him. It was 
 like a great picture suggesting one of Tur- 
 372 
 
A SUNSET INTERVIEW 373 
 
 ner's interpretations of Venice, with an ab- 
 sorbing human interest added to the glow and 
 glory of it. 
 
 For to Jack Towns the girl who turned to 
 greet him as he rode up was a very absorbing 
 human interest indeed. The hour he had 
 passed in converse with her on the day before, 
 had left him with a glamor upon him which 
 even his jaunty indifference to permanent im- 
 pressions could not dismiss. He had been 
 moved to make this special visit to The Oaks 
 by an irresistible desire to see more of a young 
 woman whose superiority of mind and charac- 
 ter was strongly impressed upon him, and 
 whose very peculiarities mainly due to dif- 
 ferences of environment and education were 
 strangely appealing to his imagination. 
 
 Upon approaching her there upon the little, 
 sun illumined hilltop, he dismounted, and, with 
 bridle rein over his arm, joined her in admi- 
 ration of the glowing sunset. 
 
 After the first greetings were over she said : 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Towns, I think that is 
 where your chivalry comes from?" And as 
 she said it, she waved her hand toward the 
 
374 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 horizon with its gold and purple, intermingled 
 with pinks and blues and exquisite greens that 
 the dyer's art has never matched. 
 
 " I mean," she added without waiting to be 
 asked for an explanation, " that you Virgin- 
 ians are inspired with gentleness and chivalry 
 by the quality of the climate in which you live, 
 and that your sunsets give color to your imag- 
 inings of courage, optimism, and high en- 
 deavor." 
 
 " I doff my hat in acknowledgement of the 
 double compliment," he said, " to our climate 
 and to our manhood. But surely fine sunsets 
 are not our exclusive possession. You must 
 have such at the North ? " 
 
 " Sometimes not often. They are so rare 
 indeed that we make note of them and recall 
 them afterwards as pleasant memories." 
 
 " But isn't that because you live in a large 
 city where the vapors of industry cloud the 
 sky and shut out nature's displays ? " 
 
 " I do not live in a large city, Mr. Towns, 
 except for the two or three worst months of 
 the year, and not always even then. I live on 
 the ' blue hills of Milton/ My father has a 
 
HE DISMOUNTED, AND, WITH HIS BRIDLE REIN OVER HIS ARM, 
 
 JOINED HER. Page 373. 
 
A SUNSET INTERVIEW 375 
 
 country place there, and since he has grown 
 old enough to relax a little in his business en- 
 terprises, we live there almost all the year 
 round. So you see I know our climate quite 
 irrespective of the factory chimneys and their 
 fumes. The sunset is dying out. I don't like 
 to see the death of beauty or grandeur or glory 
 of any kind. Let's turn our faces toward the 
 house." 
 
 As they turned Jack Towns in his own mind 
 formulated his impressions in this wise: 
 
 " Here is a young woman who can think for 
 herself and without any regard whatever for 
 the conventions of thought; she is inspired 
 with an appreciation of truth and beauty, which 
 is only another way of saying that she is a poet 
 in her soul thank God she is not a poet in 
 the magazines, for that would be dreadful. 
 She has common sense, too, in an uncommon 
 abundance. Jack Towns, you are falling 
 in love in a way you never dreamed of be- 
 fore, and the fact doesn't alarm you in the 
 least." 
 
 As his meditations kept him silent for a 
 longer time than is usual when youth and 
 
376 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 beauty walk together in the gloaming, Millicent 
 was the first to speak. 
 
 " I wish you could know our ' blue hills of 
 Milton.' They have some attractions of their 
 own." 
 
 " They certainly have," he answered. " I 
 know them at least in a small way." 
 
 "Why, how did that come about?" she 
 asked in surprise. " I understood you to say 
 you were never in Boston but once." 
 
 " * And that same is thrue for you,' as my 
 Irish office attendant would say. I was never 
 in Boston until a few weeks ago, when I went 
 thither to arrange some financial affairs for 
 a client of mine " he did not mention West- 
 over's name. " I had some negotiations with 
 a banking firm there, and the head of the estab- 
 lishment was exceedingly courteous to me. He 
 took me to his country place to spend the Sun- 
 day. By a curious coincidence, his surname is 
 the same as yours Danvers. He's the head 
 of the banking house of Danvers, Appleton and 
 Went worth. I wonder if by any chance he's 
 a relative of yours. At any rate he deserves 
 to be. For a more courtly gentleman I have 
 
A SUNSET INTERVIEW 377 
 
 never met. He's the sort of educated, refined, 
 polished, considerate person that only three 
 States in this Union produce, so far as I have 
 been able to observe." 
 
 " Which are the three States, please, - 
 that is to say, if you are free to designate 
 them?" 
 
 " Massachusetts, Virginia, and South Caro- 
 lina. Mind, I don't say that such gentlemen 
 are not found in other States. It is only that 
 those of them whom I have personally met have 
 happened to be sons of one or other of the 
 three States mentioned." 
 
 " I suppose there is a reason for that," an- 
 swered Millicent. 
 
 " What is it? " he inquired in answer. 
 
 " They are the three oldest commonwealths," 
 she answered, " and the three most conserva- 
 tive. You have a saying here in Virginia 
 a true saying, I think that ' it takes three 
 generations to make a gentleman.' The three 
 States you have named have lived their own 
 lives for a good many more than three genera- 
 tions, and so they have had time to make gen- 
 tlemen: Still " 
 
378 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 She did not continue her sentence, till Towns 
 urged her to do so. Then she said : 
 
 " I was going to say that about the most 
 perfect gentleman I ever met was Jake Green- 
 field, a Vermonter, without education beyond 
 what he called the ' rujimenteries,' whom I met 
 in the Rocky Mountains." 
 
 " Tell me about him," implored Jack, saying 
 nothing of his own acquaintance with Jake, 
 who had been his companion and shrewd ad- 
 viser during his stay in the Rocky Mountains 
 in Boyd Westover's interest. " Tell me about 
 him." 
 
 " I will," she answered. " I am always 
 pleased to celebrate his virtues. Jake is igno- 
 rant, unfamiliar with the ways of society, and 
 wholly unformed as to his manners, but he is 
 instinctively a gentleman. He habitually eats 
 with his knife a dirk-like thing that he car- 
 ries in his belt. He has no hesitation about 
 sitting at table and picking his teeth with a 
 fork. It never occurs to him to apologize for 
 lighting his pipe at table or quitting the com- 
 pany before the others have done. None of 
 the conventions of civilized life have dawned 
 
A SUNSET INTERVIEW 379 
 
 upon his intelligence as matters worthy of at- 
 tention. When I knew him, if a single pie sat 
 before him he would carefully count noses and 
 divide it equally; but if the table were well 
 dotted with pies he would seize upon the one 
 nearest him and devour it from his hand with- 
 out enlisting the services of knife or fork in 
 aid of the process. 
 
 " I met him in the Rocky Mountains where 
 my father had some mining interests, and I 
 was a good deal distressed and disgusted by 
 his lack of manners until I came to know the 
 real man who lived under so rough an exte- 
 rior." 
 
 " How did that come about ? Tell me, 
 please," said Jack Towns as he handed his 
 companion up the two or three steps that led 
 to the porch. 
 
 " It was a rather thrilling experience," she 
 answered, " at least in its beginning. I was 
 only a girl then of eighteen or nineteen. I had 
 gone to the Rockies with my father for the 
 sake of * roughing it/ as they say out there, 
 and enjoying the out-of-door life. I was in 
 the habit of riding alone, anywhere I pleased, 
 
380 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 for the region was a wilderness and nobody 
 lived in it except a few surface miners. One 
 day I rode away till I came to a little stream, 
 a few inches deep, which was crossed by a ford. 
 The road to and from the stream had been cut 
 by nature or by man, through bluff banks, 
 twenty feet high. I crossed the stream, 
 scarcely wetting the fetlocks of my horse. I 
 rode up through the cut on the other side to 
 the high ground above, and thence on through 
 a delightfully wild region, until presently it 
 began to rain in that sudden and torrential 
 way that belongs to the Rocky Mountains. I 
 turned my horse about and trotted him some- 
 what hurriedly toward the ford I had crossed. 
 When I got there I found the trickling little 
 brook swollen to a mountain torrent, but I 
 did not recognize the change as a matter of 
 consequence. I saw that the water had risen, 
 but to me that meant only that where I had had 
 to make my horse wade fetlock deep before, I 
 must make him wade knee deep now. I pushed 
 him into the stream and almost instantly he was 
 swept from his footing. The depth required 
 swimming, and the onrush of the waters was 
 
A SUNSET INTERVIEW 381 
 
 so great that swimming across the stream was 
 impossible. The horse made a gallant struggle 
 to reach the other side within the roadway 
 space, but he was swept away down stream. I 
 was afloat on his back, imprisoned as it were 
 between two perpendicular bluffs that offered 
 no point of possible landing or rescue. 
 
 " Just as I fully realized my situation Jake 
 Greenfield, mounted upon a strong horse, ap- 
 peared on the bank above. 
 
 " ' Hold on for your life ! ' he cried to me, 
 * an' I'll be with you in half a minute/ With 
 that he turned his horse's head and rode away 
 for thirty or forty paces. Then, suddenly turn- 
 ing about, he rode straight toward the bluff, 
 digging spurs into his horse's flanks at every 
 step, and lashing his rumps with a black snake 
 whip by way of making sure that he should 
 not refuse the leap. A moment later there was 
 a splash and a struggle in the water. Jake 
 Greenfield's horse had leaped into the stream 
 from the bluff twenty feet or more above, with 
 Jake Greenfield on his back, and the two had 
 sunk beneath the flood within a few feet of me 
 as I clung to my horse. 
 
382 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " After a few moments both came to the sur- 
 face, and the snortings of the horse indicated 
 that his breathing capacity was impaired. By 
 way of sparing him Jake slipped off the saddle 
 and took hold of a stirrup strap as a towing 
 line. But his poor horse's powers were ex- 
 hausted and he could sustain himself no longer. 
 He gave up the struggle and sank beneath the 
 flood, a martyr to the duty he owed to his 
 master man. Pardon me, I'm making a 
 long story of this, but the details interest me 
 so." 
 
 " They interest me, too," quickly responded 
 her companion. " You cannot narrate them in 
 too minute detail to please me. I could listen 
 all night to the story Go on, please." 
 
 " Well, Jake continued to swim until pres- 
 ently he caught my horse's tail and used it as 
 a means of keeping up with me. Then he 
 said: 
 
 " ' Turn him to the right ! Keep close in 
 shore. There's a little break in the bluffs just 
 ahead, and may be we can make it! More to 
 the right! Closer in shore! There! There's 
 the break. Make him catch bottom there if 
 
A SUNSET INTERVIEW 383 
 
 you can.' You see, Mr. Towns, every word 
 spoken at that time was burned into my mem- 
 ory, and I recall every detail as vividly as if 
 the thing had happened yesterday, or even to- 
 day. 
 
 " I succeeded in ' beaching ' my horse at that 
 little break in the bank. It was literally like 
 beaching him, for no sooner had he taken 
 three or four steps through shoaling water 
 toward the land, than he lay down, utterly 
 exhausted." 
 
 Here the girl stopped in her narrative, as if 
 it had been done. Jack Towns had no mind 
 thus to lose the climax. 
 
 " You haven't told me yet in what way Jake 
 proved himself a gentleman." 
 
 :< That is true," she answered, " and it was 
 that that I set out to tell you. Somehow hero- 
 ism always appeals to me, and in telling you 
 of Jake's heroism I forgot the other end of 
 the story. I was soaked through, of course, 
 and chilled to the bone. So Jake took me by 
 the arm he wanted to take me on his back 
 but I wouldn't let him and hurried me to 
 one of his cabins. You see, as caretaker of 
 
384 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 the mining lands, he had several cabins, scat- 
 tered about over them. He told me there was 
 a motherly old squaw there who would look 
 after me, but when we got there the squaw, 
 after the manner of her race, had wandered 
 away somewhere and was not likely to return. 
 Jake built a big fire in the cabin chimney, and 
 then went outside, telling me to ' shuck off 
 them soakin' clothes ' and wrap myself up in 
 the quilts that covered the sole orderly bed in 
 the place. As I did so I bethought me of the 
 conventionalities, and when Jake came back to 
 cook my supper and dry my clothes, I protested 
 that I could not consent to stay there alone, and 
 without even a squaw to sustain my dignity. 
 I simply must go to my father, I said, and when 
 he objected that the mountain torrent lay be- 
 tween and was by this time twenty-fold fiercer 
 in its fury than when I had dared it before, I 
 declared that it made no difference ; that at all 
 hazards I must make my way to my father's 
 quarters that night. By way of making the 
 matter impersonal and in that way sparing his 
 feelings, I dwelt upon the anxiety my father 
 must feel for me. I think Jake understood my 
 
A SUNSET INTERVIEW 385 
 
 real objection to the situation. Indeed I know 
 he did, for by way of reply he said : 
 
 " ' Ef you only could rest quiet here an' not 
 worrit overmuch, I've been a-plannin' to go up 
 the mountain to where the stream don't 'mount 
 to nothin', an 1 cross it an' go down an' tell Mr. 
 Danvers as how you is safe an' sound never- 
 theless of your bein' tired out an' chilly an' all 
 that. Ef you kin spare me, I'd like to do that.' 
 
 " Not at all realizing the fact that that tor- 
 rent had its beginning twenty miles away and 
 in mountains so precipitous that no man could 
 scale them, I gave eager consent to his pro- 
 posal, and after preparing such supper as he 
 could for me, the devoted fellow no, the 
 chivalric gentleman, I mean set forth in the 
 torrential rain. I learned afterwards that he 
 toiled up the stream for six miles, plunged into 
 it and the darkness, breasted his way across it 
 as it swept him down its resistless current, and 
 with difficulty effected a landing on the oppo- 
 site side four miles below his starting point. 
 Thence he trudged through the darkness and 
 the rain to my father's quarters, where rescue 
 parties were forming to hunt for me. That's 
 
3 86 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 the story. Don't you agree with me that Jake's 
 a gentleman in the true sense of the word ? " 
 
 " All that is what I should have expected of 
 Jake," answered the young man. " You see 
 I've just returned from that region, and dur- 
 ing my stay there I was closely associated with 
 him/' 
 
 The girl uttered a little exclamation of as- 
 tonishment; then, with that perfect self-pos- 
 session which Jack Towns had found to be the 
 most fascinating thing about her, she added : 
 
 " Confidence deserves confidence in return, 
 and before you go," for Jack had risen and 
 the two were advancing toward his restless, 
 pawing horse, " it seems only fair to tell you 
 that what you have said of the Boston banker 
 who entertained you over Sunday has been 
 very gratifying to me, for the reason that the 
 gentleman concerned is my father, and the 
 house you found so hospitable is my home. I 
 sincerely hope you'll have other occasions to 
 visit us there." 
 
 Jack's instant thought was : 
 
 " I'll make the occasions, and I'll do it 
 pretty soon too," but he confined his speech to 
 
A SUNSET INTERVIEW 387 
 
 the courtesies of the moment, and a minute 
 later he was riding at half speed toward Wana- 
 lah, wondering if his absence had kept supper 
 waiting, and not caring in the least whether it 
 had done so or not. 
 
XXXII 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT FIGHTING CREEK 
 
 IN Virginia in the late fifties there was no 
 question of principle or policy or anything 
 else at issue between the Whig and Demo- 
 cratic parties. Even in national politics there 
 was none. The Whigs were supposed to 
 represent tariff protection and internal im- 
 provements. The Democrats stood for free 
 trade and sailors' rights, but neither the one nor 
 the other of these cries represented anything 
 vital, any policy that was pending. 
 
 In Virginia the instinct of self-preservation, 
 awakened by hostility at the North to the in- 
 stitution of slavery, had stimulated both par- 
 ties to an intemperate, uncompromising, re- 
 lentless advocacy of slavery as a system right 
 in itself, a thing that nobody really believed, 
 and whenever Whig and Democrat met in 
 debate, the only question between them was 
 388 
 
AT FIGHTING CREEK 389 
 
 which could go to the greatest extreme in that 
 direction. There were the old antagonisms 
 between the two parties. They were still re- 
 membered with bitterness, and men grew ex- 
 cited and even violent in their discussion ; but 
 nobody on either side could have said what they 
 meant, for the sufficient reason that they meant 
 just nothing at all. There was a new, Free 
 Soil party rapidly gaining strength at the 
 North, and by both Whigs and Democrats in 
 Virginia that party was regarded as the com- 
 mon enemy, to be fought to the death. But 
 while waiting for that, the Whigs and Demo- 
 crats fought each other for precedence and 
 place. 
 
 Political speaking under such conditions was 
 apt to be uninteresting to others than the speak- 
 ers, unless it involved something of accidental 
 and unusual moment. If any speaker under 
 the excitement of perfervid oratory happened 
 to use terms which his adversary could con- 
 strue to be offensive to himself, there was in- 
 stantly awakened the interest that pertains to 
 a quarrel which may presently ripen into a duel 
 or a street fight. 
 
390 
 
 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Nothing of that kind occurred at Fighting 
 Creek on the day after Jack Towns's visit to 
 Millicent, but some other things occurred that 
 gave peculiar interest to the occasion. Carley 
 Farnsworth read from the platform the note in 
 which Colonel Conway pledged himself to the 
 support of Westover's nomination. That in 
 itself was a staggering blow to Webb's candi- 
 dacy. As Foggy, whose phrases were apt to 
 be picturesque, put the matter : 
 
 " It knocks the underpinnin' out of our cam- 
 paign, and it looks to me, Webb, as if it might 
 knock the stuffin' out'n you." 
 
 But staggering as the announcement was, 
 there was far worse to come. 
 
 When Sam Butler, the Democratic candidate 
 for Senator, had emptied his mind and mouth 
 of all the florid rhetorical phrases he had sat 
 up of nights to construct, he brought a matter 
 of practical political importance to the front. 
 
 " I have endeavored to show you, my fellow 
 citizens, that Democratic principles ought to 
 triumph in this election; but neither you nor 
 I can fail to see that there is no chance of that 
 in this senatorial district. After consultation 
 
AT FIGHTING CREEK 391 
 
 with my friends and political advisers, I have 
 decided that the issue lies solely between the 
 regular and the independent Whig candidates ; 
 and as between these two I think no Democrat 
 can hesitate to choose Mr. Boyd Westover as 
 the fittest man to represent us. I therefore re- 
 sign my own candidacy in Mr. Westover's 
 behalf, and I urge all my friends, all loyal 
 Democrats in the district, to vote for him. I 
 have been moved to this decision by impulses 
 of patriotism and by a sense of duty to the dis- 
 trict and to my fellow citizens." 
 
 This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, 
 and for a full minute the crowd stood paralyzed 
 with astonishment. Then Butler's most active 
 supporter by prearrangement of course 
 leaped to the platform and cried out : 
 
 " Friends, Democrats, patriots ! It occurs to 
 me that our party in this county has named no 
 candidate for the lower house of the Legisla- 
 ture. In order that the Democratic vote shall 
 not be completely unrecorded, I move that we 
 now name Samuel Butler, Esq., for that hon- 
 orable place. His candidacy for that will in no 
 way interfere with his self-sacrificing decision 
 
392 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 to take himself out of the senatorial campaign. 
 I ask all Democrats here present to gather in 
 the prize barn across the road, to consider this 
 suggestion." 
 
 A " prize barn " was one in which there 
 were appliances for pressing leaf tobacco into 
 hogsheads. 
 
 Ten minutes later it was announced that the 
 late Democratic candidate for Senator had 
 been unanimously nominated for the House of 
 Delegates. 
 
 " Now I know," said Carley Farnsworth to 
 himself, " what Edgar Coffey's message from 
 Judy to Butler meant. It's the shrewdest bit 
 of play I ever heard of. By securing his with- 
 drawal from the senatorial contest, the Queen 
 of the Mountains has enormously swelled 
 Boyd's planter vote. And by way of accom- 
 plishing that she has promised the mountain 
 vote to Butler for the lower office, and it will 
 elect him beyond a doubt. On the whole, I 
 reckon I won't explain the matter to West- 
 over. He's quixotic, and he knows nothing of 
 politics. But, by Jove, it was a master stroke 
 on Judy's part." 
 
AT FIGHTING CREEK 393 
 
 That night when Edgar Coffey made his 
 report to Judy, telling her of the adroit and 
 graceful way in which the program had been 
 carried out by Butler, her comment was : 
 
 " Some folks has more sense'n you'd think." 
 
 When he had told her of the confidence with 
 which Webb was reckoning upon the mountain 
 vote to offset the loss, she added : 
 
 " An' some folks ain't got the sense the law 
 allows 'em." 
 
 But if Webb had less political sense " than 
 the law allowed him," there were certain of his 
 followers who were better endowed. Foggy, 
 in particular, realized the situation, and, by 
 way of meeting it, summoned Webb and a 
 dozen or so of his immediate supporters to a 
 conference in the hostelry of a neighboring 
 county seat. 
 
 There Foggy laid down the law to the opti- 
 mistic candidate. 
 
 " These here two happenings," he said, 
 " mean trouble. All the swell Whig planters 
 who were holding back because of Colonel Con- 
 way's stand will now vote for Westover, and 
 use their influence to make their overseers and 
 
394 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 others do the same. Every Democrat in the 
 district will vote for him as a matter of course. 
 They want to beat the regular Whig nominee, 
 and now that they haven't a candidate of their 
 own, they'll vote for Westover. Now what 
 have we got to meet all this with? " 
 
 Webb suggested the mountain vote, and 
 Foggy instantly replied: 
 
 " So far as I can see, we ain't got no mort- 
 gage on that, and if we are to carry it we've 
 got to go after it." 
 
 So they went on discussing the situation, 
 ending by ordering a vigorous campaign in the 
 mountains with Webb for leader and Judy 
 Peters as the Dominant Power to be ap- 
 proached with negotiations. 
 
 When Jack Towns heard of this program, 
 he went to Carley Farnsworth in some alarm, 
 to suggest some counter move. 
 
 " I am conducting this campaign," answered 
 the little doctor, " and I am in confidential re- 
 lations with Judy. I'll tell you, Jack, but you 
 must keep the secret, that it was Judy herself 
 who conceived and planned and organized 
 Boyd's candidacy. She made one of the best 
 
AT FIGHTING CREEK 395 
 
 diagnoses I ever heard of in his case, and her 
 therapeutics is matchless. Let her alone. She 
 has made up her mind to elect Westover with 
 such a majority as shall be convincing even to 
 him, and she will do it you may be sure. If 
 she wants to see any of us she'll have Edgar 
 Coffey whisper a hint of her desire into our 
 ears. Until she does that we mustn't interfere. 
 She might resent it as a reflection on her skill 
 in political management. Now let me drop a 
 hint into your ear. I said just now that I was 
 managing this campaign. That was a vain- 
 glorious boast. I didn't persuade Butler to re- 
 tire in Westover's favor, but somebody ar- 
 ranged that. Have you any idea who it was? 
 And if at the end of the campaign Butler 
 should find himself elected to the lower house 
 of the Legislature by virtue of the entire moun- 
 tain vote added to the regular Democratic poll 
 down here, do you imagine for an instant that 
 the result would take him by surprise? Now 
 keep mum about all these things. I am only 
 making suggestions by way of preventing you 
 from making mistakes. Don't say a word to 
 Boyd about it." 
 
XXXIII 
 
 CONSPIRACIES 
 
 JACK TOWNS was particularly pleased 
 with the reassurance that Farnsworth 
 gave him respecting the campaign. It set 
 him free. In his loyalty to Boyd Westover he 
 would have ridden all night and all day in aid 
 of his friend's election; but he greatly pre- 
 ferred to go to Dr. Carver's and dance all 
 night with Millicent. 
 
 In fact he did very nearly that. He put his 
 name down on her card for every set that 
 wasn't taken in advance, and he danced all of 
 them but three or four which she elected to 
 " sit out." If she had been accompanied by a 
 chaperon, she would have had to restrict Mr. 
 Towns's allowance of sets, but chaperons were 
 not deemed necessary for well-bred young 
 women in Virginia. Such young women were 
 supposed to know how to behave properly, and 
 396 
 
CONSPIRACIES 397 
 
 as for protection, was not the entire adult male 
 population ready and eager to render it upon 
 occasion ? 
 
 Moreover, Jack Towns did not in fact secure 
 an undue proportion of Millicent's sets, for the 
 reason that all the young men in the company, 
 who managed to get possession of her card in 
 time, put their names on it, for one dance each. 
 She rigidly restricted them to one. Perhaps 
 she considered Jack. But she put no restric- 
 tion on Jack Towns in the matter, and Jack 
 was so ill-mannered in his infatuation that he 
 asked no other young woman for her card, ex- 
 cept in the case of Charlotte Deane. Char- 
 lotte was no longer as young as she could have 
 wished, and s}ie was distinctly not beautiful or 
 brilliant. So Jack, observing that there were 
 no throngs of young men about her, asked for 
 her card and put his name down for two 
 dances. 
 
 For the rest, he devoted his attention to Mil- 
 licent Danvers until everybody was set wonder- 
 ing if at last Jack Towns had really and truly 
 fallen in love. The same question arose in 
 Jack's own mind, but he, at least, was able to 
 
398 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 answer it. " Yes," he admitted to himself, " I 
 have had many fleeting fancies before, but none 
 that resembled this. I am determined to win 
 Millicent Danvers if devotion can accomplish 
 it. I never felt in that way before. Always I 
 have felt, that while one young woman pleased 
 me, there were others who might be equally 
 pleasing. I don't feel so now. It is Millicent 
 Danvers now, or nobody with me. I wonder 
 what she will think of my big, disorderly bach- 
 elor establishment if she ever consents to be its 
 mistress ? I'll wager something handsome that 
 she'll well, it will be time enough to specu- 
 late on that when I have won her. By the 
 way, she would say that differently ' when 
 I shall have won her/ Anyhow my present 
 task is to win her. If I do that she will take 
 care of the rest. And after all a bachelor es- 
 tablishment isn't a home. Just think of the 
 difference between my big house, where every- 
 thing is in chaos, and that home of hers 
 among the blue hills of Milton." 
 
 So he went on, thinking, wondering, specu- 
 lating, so long as she was fulfilling an engage- 
 ment to dance with somebody else whom he 
 
CONSPIRACIES 399 
 
 hated and held in unmerited contempt without 
 any assignable reason. And when his own 
 turn came and he danced with her, his fancies 
 floated before his eyes as a dream pervades the 
 mind, a dream that so rejoices as to make of 
 waking a calamity. 
 
 Millicent did well whatever she did at all. 
 In dancing with her, Jack felt that she simply 
 lifted herself half an inch or so from the floor 
 and floated about without again touching it. 
 It was a delight to dance with her, as every 
 young man who had enjoyed the experience 
 stood ready to testify, but Jack Towns rejoiced 
 even more in " sitting out " a set. For then, 
 with her arm in his he could promenade the 
 porches, or the pair could stroll out into the 
 grounds where common prudence and courtesy 
 required him frequently to readjust the wrap- 
 pings that protected her otherwise bare 
 arms and shoulders, or, better still, he could 
 seek out a secluded nook in the porch or else- 
 where, where they two might talk of things 
 that held interest for both of them in com- 
 mon. 
 
 It was during one of these confabs, when 
 
400 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 they sat out two dances in succession, that 
 Jack Towns invited himself to Boston and to 
 Millicent's home in the blue hills of Milton. 
 It came about in this way. Jack was really 
 and earnestly in love, for the first time in his 
 life, and the impulse to tell Millicent so was 
 well nigh irresistible. But Jack was a Vir- 
 ginian, and he recognized the right of a young 
 woman to be courted in her own home. He 
 restrained his impulse of speech, therefore, so 
 far as open avowals were concerned, but his 
 utterances, short of a declaration, were such 
 as to leave the young woman in no doubt as 
 to his attitude and purpose. 
 
 When she spoke of her prospective home- 
 going, he asked, a little eagerly perhaps, when 
 that was to occur. She answered : 
 
 " It must be very soon as soon as I shall 
 have done a duty that rests upon me. I'm 
 sorry Mr. Boyd Westover isn't here to-night. 
 He told me, when I met him casually this 
 afternoon, that he was obliged to return to 
 Wanalah." 
 
 " I suppose he was," answered Jack Towns 
 in a peculiarly inscrutable tone that he adopted 
 
CONSPIRACIES 401 
 
 upon occasion. " But why? Do you particu- 
 larly want to see him ? " 
 
 ' Yes, not only particularly but perempto- 
 rily. It is a part of the duty I have set myself. 
 I cannot go back to Boston till I do." 
 
 "I see," he answered. "If you like I'll 
 call at The Oaks and ask you to ride with me. 
 We can ride over to Wanalah, and I'll see to 
 it that he shall be there at the time." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no ! That would never do. 
 There are reasons which I cannot explain, if 
 you'll excuse me. I must meet Mr. Westover 
 casually, quite by accident as it were." 
 
 " Very well, then," answered Jack, with all 
 the confidence he was accustomed to assume at 
 a court trial when his case was an uncertain 
 one. " I'll arrange the accident and create the 
 1 casualty.' You have only to respond favor- 
 ably to the invitations you receive during the 
 next few days. I'll take care of the rest." 
 
 There was a certain masterful self-confidence 
 in his words and tone that was somehow ex- 
 ceedingly pleasing to Millicent. She felt that 
 Jack Towns was a man of limitless resource, 
 a man accustomed to do things and to get 
 
402 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 others to do things, a man to be leant upon 
 with confidence, and the feeling was altogether 
 comforting. The thought that floated vaguely 
 through her mind, though she shrank from 
 formulating it, was that if ever Jack Towns 
 should love a woman, that woman would be 
 exceedingly comfortable in the certainty that 
 his care of her would be always tenderly solic- 
 itous in its impulse, aggressively masterful in 
 its manifestation, and measurelessly ingenious 
 in its devices of safety for her against every 
 ill. If she had permitted her thought to frame 
 itself, as she resolutely refused to do, it would 
 have been to the effect that he was a man into 
 whose arms the woman he loved might throw 
 herself in full assurance of a welcome and in 
 trustful confidence of all-loving, all-daring pro- 
 tection. She did not let the thought formulate 
 itself, but it floated nebulously in her mind, 
 which was perhaps even more dangerous if 
 indeed there was any danger involved. 
 In answer to his words she said : 
 " You are certainly very good. I'll leave 
 it to you to arrange for me, and as soon as I 
 know definitely that my duty is done, I shall 
 
CONSPIRACIES 
 
 403 
 
 go back to Boston, or at least as soon after 
 that as my brother can come down here to es- 
 cort me. You know the journey is a trying 
 one." 
 
 ' Yes, I know. But why trouble your 
 brother needlessly? I shall be obliged to go 
 to Boston sometime soon, and if you permit, 
 I shall be glad to be your escort." 
 
 Jack was not fibbing. It is true that he had 
 no business that required him to visit Boston, 
 and yet he really felt it necessary for him to 
 go thither. He had fully decided to ask Milli- 
 cent Danvers to become his wife, and he must 
 go to Boston for that. 
 
 Millicent was right in saying that the jour- 
 ney was a trying one. In that infant age of 
 railroad service -the trip from Richmond to 
 Boston involved eight or ten changes of cars, 
 some of them at midnight. There were no 
 sleeping cars, no parlor cars, no dining cars, 
 no buffet cars nothing in fact but rattletrap 
 coaches, linked together with chains and pins 
 and controlled only by hand brakes. No car 
 ran through, or further than its own railway 
 terminus. The connections were never close, 
 
404 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 and for the waiting times between there were 
 no accommodations other than those which an 
 open and often rain-drenched railway platform 
 afforded. 
 
 But there was the question of chaperonage 
 to be considered. Boston notions on that sub- 
 ject were different from Virginia notions. In 
 Virginia it was held that a man in escort of a 
 woman was in honor bound to protect her not 
 only against all others but against himself as 
 well. He must not, under such circumstances, 
 permit his conversation even remotely to ap- 
 proach the confines of courtship. He must 
 maintain, from beginning to end of the escort- 
 ing, the attitude of one performing a duty with 
 absolutely unemotional and impersonal temper. 
 The man escorting was supposed to be a gen- 
 tleman who would suffer no harm to come to 
 the woman under his escort, even if his life 
 should be the forfeit. 
 
 But Jack Towns understood the difference 
 between Northern and Southern manners in 
 that respect, and so, to his offer of escort, he 
 promptly added : 
 
 " My good old negro Mammy will go with 
 
CONSPIRACIES 405 
 
 you, of course. She'll see that you have all 
 the comforts that are possible on such a trip." 
 
 " But if you take her to Massachusetts she 
 will be free, will she not? " asked Millicent. 
 
 " Free ? Yes. She is free now to do as she 
 pleases, and she regulates me with the high 
 hand, just as she did when I was a baby. Why 
 she even dominates my dress. Not long ago 
 I came to breakfast with a blue cravat on, and 
 she made me change it on the ground that I 
 had a murder case to defend that day and she 
 thought black would be more appropriate. 
 When I get ready to go to the club in the after- 
 noon, she inspects me, and if any detail of my 
 costume fails to meet the exigent requirements 
 of her code, I have to make a change, no mat- 
 ter how hurried I am. Oh, she's free. Why, 
 she took away the breakfast I had ordered 
 the cook to prepare for me the other day be- 
 cause it included fried eggs, and she was per- 
 suaded that fried eggs didn't agree with me. 
 She is absolute mistress in my establishment, 
 and every darkey there recognizes the fact. 
 Her authority is supreme ; mine is utterly sub- 
 ordinate. If I want any change made in the 
 
4 o6 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 houehold arrangements, I must appeal to her 
 to order it. Fortunately she always gives the 
 order because she still regards me as her 
 ' precious chile,' for whom everything must be 
 done, and whose uttermost whim is to be grati- 
 fied, regardless of the convenience of other 
 folk, high or low." 
 
 " But she is a slave," answered Millicent, 
 " and " 
 
 " In a way, I suppose she is," he interrupted, 
 " but all the eloquence of all the orators of 
 Boston could not convince her that her condi- 
 tion in life could be improved. She is absolute 
 mistress of an establishment and of the poor 
 fellow who owns it. She has everything that 
 her heart desires, everything that her imagi- 
 nation can conjure, up as a want. Her present 
 is provided for, and her old age is secure. I 
 don't know any device of freedom that can 
 match that." 
 
 " Neither do I," Millicent answered ; " but 
 I cannot approve slavery as an institution. I 
 am prejudiced, perhaps, but " 
 
 " I am not prejudiced," he answered, " but 
 I thoroughly agree with your dislike of slavery 
 
CONSPIRACIES 
 
 407 
 
 as an institution. All our great Virginians, 
 Thomas Jefferson, John Randolph, George 
 Wythe, Henry Clay, and the rest, have re- 
 garded the institution as an inherited evil to 
 be got rid of in any way that might be prac- 
 ticable, in any way that might give to the ne- 
 groes a chance to become self-supporting citi- 
 zens. Thomas Jefferson put the Virginian 
 thought into an apt phrase when he said that 
 in freeing the negroes we must not ' arm them 
 with freedom and a dagger.' He might have 
 added, as many Virginians have done in prac- 
 tice, that we must arm them with a hoe and 
 a plow." 
 
 " I see," she said, " and history teaches us 
 that Virginia has done more for the restriction 
 of slavery than any other State. It was in her 
 cession of the Northwest territory that a clause 
 was written forever excluding slavery from 
 that region; and we cannot forget that in the 
 convention which framed the constitution, the 
 Virginia delegates fought vigorously for a pro- 
 vision to stop the African slave trade in the 
 year 1800, and the New England delegates 
 fought to continue it for eight years longer. 
 
4 o8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 I think these things are not understood, and 
 I think I sympathize with your Virginian re- 
 sentment of outside interference by people who 
 do not understand. At any rate I shall carry 
 back to Boston with me a very different im- 
 pression of your attitude from that which I 
 had before. I shall be honored to have you 
 for my escort, Mr. Towns, and delighted to 
 be coddled all the way home by your dear old 
 Mammy." 
 
 At that moment one of the young men who 
 had secured a place on Millicent's card came to 
 claim his dance, and the conversation was at 
 an end. 
 
 But Jack Towns had a problem to solve. 
 He had promised to bring Millicent and West- 
 over together without seeming intention, and 
 he did not know how he was to do it. Sud- 
 denly a thought came to him, and, as he had 
 exhausted his claim upon Millicent's dancing 
 card, he took French leave, mounted his mare 
 and set off for Chinquapin Knob, whither 
 Carley Farnsworth had preceded him many 
 hours before. He arrived there about break- 
 fast time and entered at once into negotiations. 
 
CONSPIRACIES 409 
 
 Carley Farnsworth, as Jack Towns knew, 
 was in close touch with Judy Peters ; for these 
 two friends of Boyd Westover had many con- 
 fidences with respect to the campaign, of which 
 Westover himself knew nothing, and Towns 
 had learned all about Judy's attitude and initia- 
 tive in Boyd's campaign. 
 
 " Of course Boyd's election is secure," said 
 Jack, as he buttered a slice of the hot break- 
 fast bread; "and now that Butler has with- 
 drawn and Colonel Conway has endorsed his 
 candidacy, his support will include a large ma- 
 jority of the vote down here." 
 
 " Yes, and that is what Judy and I have 
 been working for. Her influence in the moun- 
 tains, when she gets ready to give the word, 
 will settle the question of election. But Judy 
 is practising psychological therapeutics. She 
 wouldn't recognize the words, but they repre- 
 sent the facts. Her sole interest in this thing 
 is to brace Boyd up by showing him that his 
 fellow men believe in him. To that end she 
 has planned to secure as heavy a vote for him 
 as possible down here among the planter peo- 
 ple. To that end she has held back all intima- 
 
4 io WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 tions of her purpose in the mountains. To 
 that end she arranged with Butler to withdraw 
 from the senatorial contest and run for the 
 lower house instead. Of course you under- 
 stand that she means to elect him to that." 
 
 " No, does she ? " asked Towns in aston- 
 ishment. " I hadn't thought of that. How 
 astonishing ! " 
 
 " Well, it is only a conjecture of mine, but 
 it is what is going to happen. Judy always 
 pays her debts to the last cent. In this case, 
 by his own withdrawal Butler throws every 
 Democratic vote in the district to Boyd, and 
 you don't imagine, do you, that he did that 
 without prospect of a recompense? Of course 
 Judy negotiated it, and it is my conjecture that 
 the price she is to pay is the mountain vote 
 for Butler's election to the House of Delegates, 
 which, with the Democratic vote down here, 
 will elect him. Of course I know nothing 
 about the matter. It is only that I can see 
 through a millstone if there is a hole in it. 
 And besides I know Judy's ways. She doesn't 
 care a fig for this election except to make it 
 serve her purpose of setting Boyd up again 
 
CONSPIRACIES 411 
 
 and making him feel that he is Westover of 
 Wanalah." 
 
 "I see," answered Jack; " and the old 
 woman would do anything in reason, I sup- 
 pose, to aid in the accomplishment of that 
 purpose? " 
 
 " Anything in reason ? Yes. And anything 
 out of reason too. What is it you have in 
 mind?" 
 
 " Well, I want Judy to give a frolic of some 
 kind, and I'll take Miss Danvers to it. Can 
 you arrange that? " 
 
 " Easily, if it is likely to benefit Boyd. But 
 I don't see " 
 
 " Of course you don't. But I tell you it will 
 do more for his rejuvenation than would his 
 unanimous election to the Senate. Of course 
 he must be there, and so must Miss Danvers. 
 I will take care of the rest." 
 
 "What is it you're up to, Jack?" asked 
 Farnsworth in not unnatural curiosity. 
 
 " I shall not tell you, except that I want 
 Miss Danvers and Boyd Westover to meet 
 casually. Besides, Miss Danvers is an inter- 
 ested and sympathetic student of Virginia life, 
 
4 i2 WESTOVER OF W ANAL AH 
 
 and I want to show her the mountain side 
 of it before she goes back to Boston. How 
 soon can you arrange the thing, Carley? " 
 
 " Well, let's see. Edgar Coffey, who is not 
 supposed to know me by sight or by name is 
 to be here to-night. He will see Judy to- 
 morrow, some time, and deliver my messages 
 about Butler's withdrawal and the rest of it. 
 Will next Saturday do for the party ? " 
 " Yes, if you can arrange it so soon." 
 " Judy does things promptly, when she is 
 minded to do them at all, and in this case she 
 is sure to be so minded. You may safely in- 
 vite Miss Danvers to be one of the guests at 
 next Saturday's frolic. Now you must go to 
 bed. You had a hard day yesterday, and made 
 a brilliant speech, and of course you danced 
 all night with Miss Danvers. Since then you 
 have ridden fifteen miles with a load on your 
 mind. It is time for you to take some rest. 
 The front room in the west wing is prepared 
 for you. Go ! " 
 
XXXIV 
 
 JUDY'S PLANS OF CAMPAIGN 
 
 THE events at Fighting Creek threw 
 Webb's political advisers into some- 
 thing like panic. They realized that 
 Butler's withdrawal and Colonel Conway's 
 support of Westover's candidacy would give 
 Westover a majority vote in the piedmont sec- 
 tion of the district. If Webb was to win at 
 all, it must be by securing the mountain vote. 
 To that end they sent all their speakers into 
 the mountains, arranging that Webb himself 
 should speak there twice or thrice a day. He 
 was a plausible fellow, persuasive in his ora- 
 tory and capable of verbal acrobatics of a kind 
 likely to be attractive to simple minded audi- 
 ences. But chiefly, W 7 ebb's backers relied upon 
 negotiations with Judy Peters, whose control 
 over the mountain vote of her own county was 
 almost absolute, and whose influence over the 
 413 
 
4 i4 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 vote in other mountain parts of the district 
 was apt to be controlling if she saw fit to ex- 
 ercise it, as in many cases she did not. 
 
 In the present campaign Judy had given no 
 sign. Apparently she was altogether indiffer- 
 ent. If she should persist in that indifference, 
 then a vigorous speaking campaign might turn 
 the battle; but if she could be induced to take 
 an active interest in Webb's election, the re- 
 sult would be secure. 
 
 So Webb and some of his most persuasive 
 lieutenants were set to " arouse Judy's inter- 
 est." They visited her immediately after the 
 Fighting Creek disaster, and told her of the 
 danger that impended. She entertained them 
 with glorified fried chicken, stewed shoat, salt 
 pork with cream gravy, apple butter, and limit- 
 less apple jack, but she declined to commit 
 herself. To all their solicitations she replied 
 in carefully equivocal phrases that left them 
 pleased, encouraged, but by no means satis- 
 fied. 
 
 " The old gal's a-goin' back on us, it's my 
 belief," said Foggy when these results were 
 reported to him. 
 
JUDY'S PLANS 415 
 
 " You are certainly mistaken," Webb an- 
 swered. " I had a long, confidential talk with 
 her and I came away from the conference with 
 an unshakable conviction that she means to 
 throw her uttermost influence in my favor." 
 
 " Did she say so in plain words ? " asked 
 Foggy. 
 
 " No, not precisely that, but she certainly 
 intended to give me that impression. You 
 don't know Judy, or you would understand. 
 She likes to keep one hanging on, as it were. 
 She never commits herself by definite promises. 
 Sometimes she doesn't let even her henchmen 
 know how they are going to vote until the 
 night before election. We can safely trust 
 ourselves in Judy's hands." 
 
 " Well, I hope you're right, but I'd feel a 
 good deal better," responded Foggy, " if we 
 had a definite promise." 
 
 No sooner was the visit of the Webb forces 
 over than Judy turned to Sapphira and said : 
 
 " Go an' hang my red petticoat on the 
 frontmost panel o' the fence, an' leave it 
 there." 
 
 " Is Edgar Coffey a-comin' long by here this 
 
4 i6 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 evenin' ? " asked the girl who had rendered 
 this service on several former occasions. 
 
 " Don't be too knowin', Sapphiry, an' don't 
 git yourself into a inquirin' frame o' mind. 
 That there red petticoat's enough fer you to 
 think about jest now." 
 
 About sunset Edgar Coffey came slouching 
 up the road, apparently intending to pass the 
 place without stopping, but when he saw the 
 red petticoat hanging over the top rail of the 
 fence he seemed suddenly to remember that he 
 wanted a drink of water from Judy's glacial 
 spring, with something to temper its coldness 
 perhaps. So he leaped the fence, and passing 
 around the house, toward the spring, con- 
 fronted Judy at her back door. Quite casually 
 she invited him in, and after her hospitable 
 habit she brought forth a decanter of apple 
 jack for his entertainment. 
 
 " Now drink sparin'-like, Edgar," she said, 
 " 'cause you's got business to ten' to an' I 
 don't want none o' that confusion o' tongues 
 the Bible tells about. But mend your drink 
 an' git over your tired an' then I'll give you 
 your pinters." 
 
JUDY'S PLANS 417 
 
 Edgar Coffey was habitually a sober man. 
 That is to say he never drank liquor that he 
 must pay for; but when the tipple cost him 
 nothing he was apt to make up for lost time. 
 Judy, whose habit it was to know all about 
 the men she dealt with, knew this, and upon 
 occasion tempered her alcoholic hospitality 
 with prudent reserve. If she had had no mis- 
 sion for Edgar Coffey to fulfil, he might have 
 emptied the bottle without interference on her 
 part. As it was, she withdrew the supply as 
 soon as he had filled his little tumbler for the 
 third time, and as soon as he had emptied it 
 again she addressed herself to the business in 
 hand. 
 
 " That there William Wilberforce Webb has 
 been here with his gang, to 'lectioneer me," 
 she said. She would have used some oppro- 
 brious epithet with Webb's name if she could 
 have thought of one that seemed to her more 
 scornful than the man's own cumbersome name 
 did. 
 
 " Yes, I knowed they was a-comin'," an- 
 swered Edgar. 
 
 " Never mind what you knowed. Listen to 
 
4 i8 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 me. You is to go an' git Morris Bryant an 5 
 Lem Fulcher, an' Wyatt Fletcher an' two or 
 three others, an' 'tend his speakin' meetin's, 
 specially them as don't lay close to here 
 them as is held in the furder parts o' the moun- 
 tings where may be a word from me don't 
 count for as much as it does round here." 
 
 " Is we to raise a racket an' break up the 
 meetin's?" 
 
 " No. Yous is to be as meek as Moses, an' 
 ax questions, jest as ef you was doubtful like 
 an' a seekin' information. But you ain't to 
 ax William Wilberforce Webb none o' the 
 questions, 'cause he mout answer 'em an' spile 
 the game. 'Tain't answers we want, but ef- 
 fec's. You is to ax everybody you see, what 
 that feller's wagon-load o' name means. An' 
 you's to wonder, jest curious like whar he got 
 it to tote round. An' then you can sort o' 
 explain your curiosity by sayin' you's heard 
 somewhere's as how William Wilberforce is 
 one o' the biggest abolitionists, an' wonder 
 whether Webb is his nephew or his son, an' if 
 Webb ain't maybe a abolitionist in disguise, 
 a tryin' to git into the Legislatur. Ef any- 
 
JUDY'S PLANS 419 
 
 body answers your questions an' tries to ex- 
 plain, you can jest say, ' Well, I dunno nothin' 
 'bout it, only it looks sort o' 'spicious like,' an' 
 go away an' hunt up another crowd. You 
 know how to do a sneakin' thing like that, 
 Edgar, better'n anybody I ever seen, an' the 
 men Fs named fer your feller sinners ain't no 
 slouches at that sort o' thing nuther. You's 
 got no call to argify or say anything as any- 
 body can pick up. You-all's business is jest 
 to ax questions, raise suspicions an' make im- 
 pressions." 
 
 She chuckled as Edgar winked at her in 
 token of complete comprehension, and as she 
 did so she muttered : 
 
 " That feller's name'll be the death of him 
 yit." 
 
 Then she added : 
 
 " Now you can have another pull at the apple 
 jack, Edgar, an' then you must be off, fer 
 they's a big Webb gatherin' 'pinted fer to- 
 morrer over at Olivet church, an' I want all 
 you fellers to be thar." 
 
 " Wait a minute, Judy," said the hulking 
 mountaineer as he unlimbered his legs and sat 
 
420 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 upright in his chair. " I's got a message fer 
 you from Dr. Carley Farnsworth." 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me that fust off?" 
 asked Judy almost angrily. 
 
 " 'Cause 'twouldn't 'a' been polite, like, tell 
 you was done speakin'. ' Ladies fust ' is my 
 motto." 
 
 " All right. Limber up your tongue an' tell 
 me what 'tis." 
 
 " Well, he says he'll cover all expenses, but 
 you is to give a very select them was his 
 words a very select Brunswick Stew here 
 next Saturday an' let him bring up a wagon- 
 load o' folks from down below. He says it'll 
 do more'n the 'lection itself for Westover in 
 the way you an' him is a-thinkin' of. I didn't 
 ax him what he meant by that, 'cause he 
 seemed to think you'd know all about it. Oh, 
 he said you must be sure to send a partic'lar 
 invite to Westover. He's to speak over at 
 Cob Station Friday." 
 
 Judy received the message placidly, and, 
 without comment upon it, hurried Edgar Cof- 
 fey away on his mission. 
 
 " Well," she said to herself presently, 
 
JUDY'S PLANS 421 
 
 " Carley Farnsworth ain't no fool ; but I'd 
 give somethin' purty to know how he expects 
 me to make a Brunswick Stew this late in the 
 fall when they ain't a tomato or a ear o' green 
 corn left alive in all the land." 
 
 Then suddenly she called for her three 
 sons, Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, and The- 
 onidas, who happened to be at home at the 
 time. 
 
 " We's a goin' to give a barbecue nex' Sat- 
 urday, right out in the patch o' red oak an' 
 black gum woods. So you's got to git to work. 
 Kill an' dress a shoat an' two lambs an' 'bout 
 a dozen chickens, an' hang 'em in the spring 
 house to cool. Then you three haul out the 
 lumber from the corn crib an' knock up a lot 
 o' tables. No, Daniel Webster an' Henry Clay 
 can ten' to that, while Theonidas digs the 
 roastin' pits an' chops some oak an' hickory 
 wood to roast with. Chop it short, Theonidas, 
 an' split it fine, so's it'll go to coals quick." 
 
 After she had given these orders and in- 
 structed Sapphira as to duties that must de- 
 volve on her, she busied her mind with other 
 things relating to the affair. First of all she 
 
422 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 filled and lighted her pipe and sat down in a 
 big rocking chair to " do a little studyin'." 
 
 " Very select/' she mused. " That means 
 I mustn't let the fellers drink too much. I can 
 ten' to that, so they ain't no bother. He's a 
 goin' to bring a lot o' stuck-ups with him. 
 That's all right, an' I'll make 'em think we's 
 purty nigh on to bein' sort o' civilized our- 
 selves. Le's see; Burch Wrigley an' Lewis 
 Vance an' Jim Woodson won't do. They'd 
 go round chawin' meat an' a holdin' it in their 
 han's what hain't been washed sence Noah's 
 flood cleaned things up, like. Them fellers 
 ain't to have no invites. I'll send 'em a feed 
 in a bucket instid. 
 
 " Le' me see ! Jim Wood's a-goin' down 
 to the speakin' at Cob Station, Friday. I'll 
 tell him to tell Boyd to come up here Friday 
 night. Then I'll have him on the ground fer 
 Saturday. Oh say, Judy, I'll send a invite to 
 William Wilberforce Webb ! It'll be good fun 
 to see him when he fin's out what sort o' party 
 I's got, an' oh Jemimy! When he fin's Boyd 
 here ! An' jes' ten days 'fore the 'lection too ! 
 It'll be fun all over the woods ! " 
 
JUDY'S PLANS 423 
 
 And Judy was so pleased with her little de- 
 vice for amusement that she chuckled over it 
 for full ten minutes afterward. She wound up 
 her chuckling with the exclamation : 
 
 " William Wilberforce Webb ! Blue light- 
 nin', what a name ! By the time Edgar Coffey 
 an' them fellers is through with him he'll wish 
 he'd boxed up that name an' put it in his 
 cellar 'fore ever he come up into the mount- 
 ings. An' I'll string out the whole o' that 
 name every time I speak to him on Satur- 
 day." 
 
 Having thus settled upon her arrangements 
 and set them going, Judy turned her medita- 
 tions into another channel. 
 
 " Of course Carley Farnsworth knows what 
 he's about, but I don't. May be I can figger 
 it out, though. He sent word as how this thing 
 would do more good to Boyd than the 'lection 
 itself. I reckon it somehow tetches on his 
 trouble with that gal what's been a preyin' on 
 his mind. I reckon that's it, an' Carley sees 
 how to make it patch things up like. Course 
 that's it. They wouldn't be no sense in it ef 
 that wasn't the meanin'. All right. Ef we 
 
424 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 can straighten things out, twix' Boyd an' the 
 gal, they won't be no more trouble o' no sort 
 'bout him. They ain't never no cause to worry 
 'bout a feller that's got a big office an' a little 
 gal all to wunst, I reckon." 
 
XXXV 
 
 A MOUNTAIN TOP REVELATION 
 
 THE barbecue at Judy's was successful 
 in every way. Jack Towns and Car- 
 ley Farnsworth took two crowded 
 wagon-loads of young women up the mountain, 
 starting early in the morning, and there were a 
 dozen or twenty young men on horseback 
 to complete the piedmont contingent. Boyd 
 Westover was already at Judy's, and the Queen 
 had summoned all the presentable mountain 
 folk, male and female, to the feast and frolic. 
 Millicent had begged Margaret to go, but 
 there were conclusive reasons why she should 
 not, some of which she mentioned in excuse 
 and some of which she forbore to mention. 
 Her aunt was really ill, as a result of shock. 
 Her father was by no means well. She her- 
 self was in distress, and above and beyond all, 
 she did not wish to meet Boyd Westover. She 
 425 
 
426 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 could conceive of nothing more embarrassing 
 than a meeting with him under the circum- 
 stances. She did not say so to Millicent, but 
 Millicent understood, and Millicent had plans 
 of her own, in aid of which, as Jack Towns 
 had clearly set forth, to her, this expedition 
 had been organized. 
 
 Another absentee, whose absence Judy re- 
 sented rather angrily and vituperatively, be- 
 cause his absence robbed her of anticipated fun, 
 was William Wilberforce Webb. He was on 
 his way to Judy's when he learned that Boyd 
 Westover was there. Then suddenly he re- 
 membered some engagement that took him in 
 a different direction and far away from the 
 festivity. He sent an elaborately apologetic 
 and rhetorically grandiloquent letter of apol- 
 ogy, which Judy did not read further than the 
 opening sentences that announced his inability 
 to be present. 
 
 Having dug so much of meaning out of the 
 rubbish of words in which it was hidden, she 
 muttered : 
 
 " The durned coward ! " and cast the letter 
 into the fire. 
 
A MOUNTAIN REVELATION 427 
 
 But there was fun enough and to spare. 
 The mountaineers understood that this was a 
 show, that they were the performers and that 
 the guests from the piedmont region were the 
 audience. They put forth their utmost en- 
 deavors to entertain, and they were abundantly 
 successful. Their contests of strength and 
 agility, their exhibitions of skill with the rifle, 
 in throwing " rocks " at a minute mark, and 
 in other ways, won a degree of applause that 
 might have satisfied even the morbid desires 
 of an opera company.* 
 
 Millicent was standing by Westover's side, 
 talking of indifferent things, when some change 
 of program in the athletics created an unan- 
 nounced intermission. She seized upon the 
 occasion for the accomplishment of the pur- 
 pose that had brought her thither. 
 
 " There must be a grand view," she sug- 
 gested, " from the top of that rock up there." 
 
 " There is," he answered, " and I'd like you 
 to enjoy it. Will you mind walking or per- 
 haps I should say climbing up there? " 
 
 She responded gladly and the two set off. 
 The climb was not an easy one, and it was 
 
428 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 quite half an hour before they reached the sum- 
 mit. When they arrived there Westover led 
 his companion to the best points of observa- 
 tion, but he was disappointed to find that her 
 enthusiasm was less than he had hoped. 
 
 " You don't care much for the views after 
 all," he ventured to say, half reproachfully. 
 
 " Yes, I do. Or rather, I should enjoy them 
 intensely, if it were not that I have something 
 on my mind, something that it is my duty to 
 do and that I fear I shall go wrong in doing. 
 It was for that that I came up here with you, 
 Mr. Westover, in order that I might talk with 
 you apart from the crowd down there." 
 
 She paused timorously, and nervously 
 stripped the glove she had unconsciously re- 
 moved from her hand. By way of encourage- 
 ment, Boyd Westover said : 
 
 " Go on. I shall be glad to hear anything 
 you have to tell me." 
 
 She remained meditatively silent for half a 
 minute more. Then she asked, with great, 
 open, honest eyes looking into his : 
 
 " Mr. Westover, can you, do you believe a 
 woman in the same way that you take a 
 
A MOUNTAIN REVELATION 429 
 
 man's word, I mean? If Mr. Towns, or Dr. 
 Farnsworth, should solemnly assure you of the 
 perfect truth of anything they might have to 
 say to you, you would believe him as implicitly 
 as if his statement were a fact within your per- 
 sonal knowledge. Can you believe a woman's 
 solemn assurance in the same way and to the 
 same extent? " 
 
 " When you are the woman making the 
 statement, yes ! " he answered gallantly, but 
 with an assurance of sincerity in his voice, and 
 with a still more emphatic assurance of sin- 
 cerity in the eyes that looked straight into hers. 
 " I shall believe anything you tell me as firmly 
 as I believe in my own existence, or in the 
 stability of the rocks under our feet." 
 
 " I thank you sincerely," she said, with that 
 Bostonian fulness of expression that had pe- 
 culiarly charmed all the Virginians who had 
 enjoyed a meeting with her. " Now I'll make 
 the statement that you are to believe as abso- 
 lutely true." 
 
 She paused, as if framing her utterance care- 
 fully. After a moment she said : 
 
 " In what I am going to say to you, and in 
 
430 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 seeking this opportunity to say it, I do not 
 represent anybody but myself. Especially I 
 do not represent Margaret Conway." 
 
 He started a little at the name, and she ob- 
 served the fact, but she went on, not heeding it. 
 
 " Indeed in telling you what I am going to 
 tell you, I am violating Margaret's earnest and 
 express commands. Perhaps I am even vio- 
 lating a confidence of friendship. I don't 
 know, and it makes no difference. It is my 
 duty to tell you, and I'll do that duty at all 
 hazards. It involves the life-long happiness 
 or unhappiness of two persons whom I hold in 
 affectionate regard." 
 
 By this time Westover, nervous, restless, 
 troubled and enthusiastic as he was, was 
 wrought up to the verge of delirium. 
 
 " Tell me ! " he cried earnestly. " Tell me 
 quickly! I can endure the suspense no longer." 
 
 In reply the girl, who had completely recov- 
 ered her self-control, said very deliberately: 
 
 " What I have to tell you may perhaps ex- 
 plain many things that you have not hitherto 
 understood. It is this : the letters you wrote 
 to Margaret Conway at the time of your 
 
A MOUNTAIN REVELATION 431 
 
 trouble were never delivered to her ; the letters 
 she wrote to you at that time were never 
 posted. That is all." 
 
 " How do you know this ? " he asked, seiz- 
 ing her by the shoulders as if intent upon sha- 
 king the answer out of her. " Do you know 
 it or is it only conjecture? Tell me, quick, 
 how do you know it ? " 
 
 " I have seen the letters," she answered, 
 calmly enjoying his half-mad excitement. 
 
 " But how do you know mine were not re- 
 ceived and hers not mailed? " 
 
 " I have seen them," she answered. " Yours 
 were not opened and Margaret had never seen 
 them. Hers were addressed and stamped, but 
 bore no postmarks. Be perfectly sure, Mr. 
 Westover, that I know all I say." 
 
 " But who interfered ? Why were the letters 
 stopped in transit ? " he asked almost angrily. 
 
 " That I am not free to tell you. I am con- 
 cerned only for you and Margaret. The rest 
 concerns another person, and I have no 
 right " 
 
 " Was it Colonel Conway ? Did he - 
 
 " Mr. Westover, you know Colonel Conway. 
 
43 2 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Therefore you know it was not he, just as you 
 know that he isn't a coward or anything else 
 dishonorable. Now please don't ask me any 
 further questions. I have already violated ob- 
 ligations, I suppose. At any rate I have put 
 you in possession of the essential facts. The 
 rest lies with you. We must go down the hill 
 now." 
 
 The two started off together, but before they 
 had journeyed far, Westover stopped suddenly 
 and, taking both the girl's hands in his, said 
 fervently : 
 
 " I thank God, and I thank you, Millicent 
 Danvers. To the end of my life I shall thank 
 you. Now let us be off, for I must get away 
 from here." 
 
 She did not ask him why, but she under- 
 stood and approved. 
 
XXXVI 
 
 THE MEETING AT THE OAKS 
 
 AS the two neared the scene of Judy's 
 festivities, Millicent suddenly stopped 
 and, looking straight into Westover's 
 eyes, asked : 
 
 " You are very sure you believe me, and that 
 I have acted upon the prompting of conscience 
 alone?" 
 
 " Millicent Danvers, I never believed any- 
 thing in my life more confidently than I do 
 that." 
 
 " And do you think I have done right? " 
 
 " Right ? Yes. You have saved two lives 
 from wreck and wretchedness. Could any- 
 thing be righter than that? You have a sen- 
 sitive conscience; bid it rest easy in the con- 
 sciousness of a brave deed well done. Charles 
 Kingsley says : ' God gives it to few men to 
 carry a line to a stranded ship.' That is what 
 
 433 
 
434 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 God has given it to you to do. Be sure I shall 
 not compromise you in any way, and may God 
 always bless you ! " 
 
 Both were too much overwrought to indulge 
 in further speech. They hurried on to the 
 house, and Boyd went instantly to Judy, say- 
 ing: 
 
 " I'm sorry to miss the rest of the frolic and 
 especially the evening dance ; but I find I must 
 leave immediately." 
 
 " That's all right, Boyd, ef it's becase o' the 
 gal," answered Judy with womanly sympathy. 
 " Jest set still here fer five minutes an' I'll have 
 Theonidas bring your horse round to the road 
 back o' the house, so's nobody'll see you a set- 
 tin' off. Say, Boyd, that Boston gal's awful 
 nice. I wish 'twas her." 
 
 " Let Jack Towns dance with her to-night, 
 Judy, and you'll be satisfied." 
 
 Five minutes later Westover was in the sad- 
 dle and hurrying down the mountain as rap- 
 idly as his concern for the welfare and the 
 bones of Rob Roy would permit. That enthusi- 
 astic quadruped had an unconquerable pref- 
 erence for the faster gaits familiar to horse 
 
MEETING AT THE OAKS 435 
 
 flesh, and, if left to himself, he would have 
 gone at a gallop all the way down the moun- 
 tain. But his master, with a discretion supe- 
 rior to his, restrained him, permitting only a 
 trot on the levels and compelling what the 
 horse evidently regarded as an absurd walk 
 down the steeper inclines. 
 
 In spite of all restraints the good horse car- 
 ried him over the twenty-mile distance in little 
 more than two hours' time, and it was at 
 the gloaming time that he approached The 
 Oaks. 
 
 He had formed no plans when he rode away 
 from Judy Peters's place. His first thought 
 as he went down the mountain was that he 
 would go to Wanalah, write a letter to Mar- 
 garet, enclose it in a note to Colonel Conway 
 and send it by a special messenger. He aban- 
 doned that program promptly, and after fra- 
 ming and rejecting several others of less elab- 
 orate formality, he resolved to go straight to 
 Margaret. 
 
 " I have a right to do that," he said to him- 
 self. " Now that I know what her attitude has 
 been it is not only my privilege but my duty 
 
436 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 to deal directly with her, to tell her what I 
 have learned, to tell her of the misapprehen- 
 sion I have labored under, to renew my suit 
 and to learn from her lips what her present 
 feeling is. I know that, already, but it will be 
 reassuring to have her tell me of it. God bless 
 that Boston girl and her New England con- 
 science and her courage ! For it required cour- 
 age of a high order to do what she did. Not 
 many people would have dared do it." 
 
 So thinking he rode into the house grounds 
 at The Oaks while the last glow of daylight 
 was fading out of the sunset side of the sky. 
 
 Seeing a young negro, he dismounted and 
 tossed the rein to the boy, saying : 
 
 " Don't stable him ; just walk him back and 
 forth till he cools down and then hitch him 
 somewhere handy; I shall ride again pres- 
 ently." 
 
 Walking rapidly up the path he stepped upon 
 the porch, and there met Margaret face to face 
 for the first time since he had gaily bidden her 
 adieu at midsummer. 
 
 " Margaret ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Boyd ! " she answered, and a moment later 
 
"MARGARET! " 
 
 BOYD! "Page 436. 
 
MEETING AT THE OAKS 437 
 
 he had taken her in his arms and caressed her 
 fervently. 
 
 " You have come at last ! " she said as she 
 withdrew herself from his embrace. 
 
 "At last?" he asked in answer. "It was 
 only two hours ago that I learned that I might 
 come at all. I was twenty miles away then, 
 and I am here now, here to claim fulfilment 
 of the most glorious promise a woman ever 
 made to a man here to claim you, Mar- 
 garet." 
 
 " I know," she answered, as they sank into 
 porch chairs. " Don't let us waste time in 
 explanations, now that they are so utterly un- 
 necessary. Just let us be happy." 
 
 The conversation thus begun lasted until 
 near supper time. It is not necessary to re- 
 port it for the information of any who have 
 been lovers, and as for the rest, they would 
 never understand. 
 
 Just before the late supper time Westover 
 suddenly awakened to his duty. 
 
 " I must see your father," he said. " With- 
 out his permission I have no right to consider 
 myself a guest in his house." 
 
438 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 Margaret, knowing her father's perplexed 
 eagerness to see Westover and be reconciled 
 with him, smiled as she answered: 
 
 " I'll send for Father." 
 
 She did so, and presently the old Colonel 
 came limping into the porch. As he ap- 
 proached, Margaret slipped into the house, 
 leaving the two men alone. 
 
 They greeted each other with a cordiality 
 that rendered all explanations and apologies 
 needless, but Colonel Conway insisted upon 
 explaining and apologizing. 
 
 " I've been a coward, Boyd ! I've been an 
 abject coward." 
 
 " I don't know any other man living who 
 would dare say that, Colonel." 
 
 " Perhaps not. No, I suppose not. Still 
 it is true, and I'm profoundly ashamed of it." 
 
 " Now my dear Colonel Conway," inter- 
 jected Westover, " let us not talk of that. 
 This is the happiest hour of my life and, I 
 hope, of Margaret's. Let us not spoil it by 
 discussing disagreeable things which are com- 
 pletely past and gone." 
 
 " But there are some things that I must 
 
MEETING AT THE OAKS 439 
 
 explain, Boyd, and you must listen to me. I 
 ought to have gone to you in Richmond at 
 the time of your trouble. I didn't, because 
 I was forbidden to do so by an authority which 
 I was cowardly enough to yield to. Margaret 
 great woman that she is told me then 
 I was a coward, and she was right. When 
 you came back to Wanalah my purpose was 
 to go to you at once, but the same authority 
 forbade, giving me a sufficient reason in the 
 fact that you had written no line to Mar- 
 garet. I know better now, but only within 
 the past few days. Under that mistaken be- 
 lief I refused to join in your nomination. A 
 few days ago a catastrophe here revealed the 
 truth to both Margaret and me. She appealed 
 to me to do what my sense of honor might 
 suggest. That meant that I should go to you 
 at once, grasp your hand, tell you of the mis- 
 apprehension and of the facts that removed 
 it, and ask your pardon. No, don't interrupt. 
 You are generously disposed to spare me, but 
 I shall not consent to be spared. My first 
 impulse was to do what Margaret expected 
 of me. But an appeal was made to me to 
 
440 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 spare another the culprit in the case and 
 I weakly yielded to it. I compromised with 
 my conscience and my honor. I wrote to Dr. 
 Farnsworth the letter you have doubtless seen, 
 and I did no more. It was all cowardice, 
 and I am heartily ashamed of it. Will you 
 forgive me, Boyd? " 
 
 " Colonel Conway," answered Boyd with 
 intense earnestness, " no man with a cowardly 
 nerve in his body could ever have made the 
 manly self-accusing apology you have offered 
 to me. You grievously wrong yourself. It 
 was not cowardice that restrained you, but a 
 tender and generous consideration for a help- 
 less person who was entitled to every pro- 
 tection you could give her. Now let us talk 
 no more of this! Let us never refer to it! 
 Let it be a dead thing of a dead past a thing 
 done with, forgotten, banished forever from 
 our minds ! " 
 
 " You are very generous," answered the 
 now feeble old man. " But that is not a thing 
 to be wondered at. You are Westover of 
 Wanalah, and for nearly two hundred years 
 that name has stood for all there is of gentle, 
 
MEETING AT THE OAKS 441 
 
 generous and courageous manhood. You'll 
 stay to supper of course ? " 
 
 " No, Colonel. I have much to do to-night. 
 I must ride at once as soon as I shall have 
 said ' good night ' to Margaret." 
 
 It took a considerable time for the saying 
 of that good night. 
 
 " I'll be over here at ten o'clock to-morrow 
 morning, Margaret," he said, " and we'll go 
 for a ride. I'll have a servant bring over a 
 young filly I have in my stables, that you'll 
 be delighted to ride. She's spirited, but as 
 gentle as a zephyr that's what I've named 
 her ' Zephyr ' and her paces are perfect. 
 She's to be yours from this time forth. I per- 
 sonally educated her for you last summer, 
 before before the trouble came." 
 
 " But to-morrow is Sunday ; aren't we to 
 go to church ? " 
 
 " No. We are going to Wanalah, so that 
 you may look over the place and see what alter- 
 ations are needed. I must tell you, Margaret, 
 that an investment, very wise or very lucky, 
 I don't know which, made by my father in 
 my name, has suddenly borne fruit, making 
 
442 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 me, Jack Towns says and he has charge of 
 the business three times over the richest 
 man in Virginia. The wealth is of no con- 
 sequence in itself, but I mention it so that in 
 deciding what shall be done at Wanalah you 
 need have no fear of expense before your 
 eyes." 
 
 " But church is at Round Hill, to-morrow, 
 almost under our noses. If we don't attend, 
 what will people say ? " 
 
 " Hang ' people.' We are ' people ' now. 
 We're happy and we're going to stay happy. 
 And after all what can they say? They'll say 
 that Boyd Westover and Margaret Conway 
 are very much in love with each other, and 
 we don't care to contradict that, do we ? " 
 
 " I do not," she answered. 
 
 " Neither do I. So let them say on. They'll 
 wonder when it is to be, and I'm wondering 
 about that myself now. When is it to be, 
 Margaret?" 
 
 " I don't know. Of course I must have time 
 to make a trousseau." 
 
 " What for? " he asked. " Hang the trous- 
 seau, or make it after we're married. What's 
 
MEETING AT THE OAKS 443 
 
 the difference? You've plenty of clothes, and 
 you're charming in any of them." 
 
 " But Boyd, dear, " 
 
 " But Margaret dear," he interrupted, " you 
 see our marriage was to have occurred in the 
 late summer or early fall. It has already been 
 unreasonably delayed. It is nonsense to delay 
 it further. Think a little, and think quick, and 
 name a day." 
 
 " If you must have it so, I suppose it must 
 be so. You are the Master now. And be- 
 sides " 
 
 She did not finish her sentence till he chal- 
 lenged it, saying: 
 
 " Besides what, Margaret? " 
 
 " I was only thinking," she answered, " that 
 I can't persuade Millicent to stay much longer, 
 and I do want her to be my first bridesmaid. 
 You see, Boyd, it isn't only that Fm very fond 
 of her I am very grateful to her." 
 
 " So am I," he answered with emphasis, but 
 neither the one nor the other said aught of the 
 occasion for gratitude. They both under- 
 stood. But he eagerly grasped at the helping 
 hand: 
 
444 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " Then you must name a very early day, 
 or she will have flitted." 
 
 " Let me see," she said ; " the election will 
 occur one week from next Tuesday; that 
 is ten days hence. Our wedding shall occur 
 on the day after you are elected Senator." 
 
 " But suppose I should not be elected ? " 
 
 " In that case the day will come round just 
 the same," she said ; " but you will be elected. 
 I have Dr. Farnsworth's positive assurance 
 that you will be elected by the largest ma- 
 jority any candidate ever received in this dis- 
 trict, and Dr. Farnsworth is a man who deals 
 exclusively in facts, never in conjectures." 
 
 1 Then you have concerned yourself about 
 my election ? " 
 
 " How could it be otherwise ? As I told 
 you in the long ago, Boyd, I am not a woman 
 who loves lightly or lightly forgets." 
 
 " I know," he answered. " Your father is 
 taking his supper alone. Go to him at once. 
 I'll mount and away." 
 
XXXVII 
 
 THE OLD CLOCK TICKS AGAIN 
 
 " TTT'S a rambling old place," Westover 
 said, as he and Margaret strolled 
 through the vast spaces of the Wanalah 
 rooms with their highly polished white ash 
 floors, their wealth of stoutly built, time dark- 
 ened furniture, their ancient, oaken wainscots 
 and their hospitably spacious fireplaces. " I 
 suppose a modern judgment would say tear 
 it down and build anew " 
 
 * Then the modern judgment shall have no 
 welcome when I am mistress here. Tear down 
 Wanalah, with its walls of thick masonry, its 
 generously large rooms, and its memories? 
 Only a vandal would do that. I'll tell you, 
 Boyd, there is only one change I'd like you 
 to make here." 
 
 "I'll make it. What is it?" 
 445 
 
446 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 " There's a beautiful old standing clock in 
 the dining room that has never ticked since I 
 have known Wanalah. Won't you have some- 
 body put new works into it and set it going 
 again? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " but it shall not run 
 until you and I return from our wedding trip 
 and you enter the house as its mistress. We'll 
 go to it together then and set it going, to mark 
 time in a new era at Wanalah." 
 
 " You are very good and thoughtful and 
 tender, Boyd. I suppose you are a trifle ro- 
 mantic also, but I shall certainly not quarrel 
 with that, now or ever." 
 
 " Speaking of our wedding trip, Margaret," 
 he said eagerly, " what is it to be ? We can 
 go anywhere you like and everywhere you like 
 and for as long as you like." 
 
 "Am I really free to choose?" she asked, 
 looking into his eyes. 
 
 " Yes, really and absolutely." 
 
 " What I would like best, then, would be 
 to go up to that place of yours in the high 
 mountains. It was there that you suffered 
 most on my account; I want you to rejoice 
 
THE OLD CLOCK 
 
 447 
 
 and be happy there, Boyd, by way of recom- 
 pense." 
 
 " But it's rough living up there, Margaret ; 
 perhaps you'd find it " 
 
 " I'd find it delightful. How could it be 
 otherwise, with just you and me there? " 
 
 " It shall be so then. Nothing could de- 
 light me more. I'll get Theonidas to carry 
 my things back up there at once. They are 
 still at Judy's. And we'll take along with us 
 whatever baggage you want." 
 
 " That will be very little. It is the air, the 
 sunshine, the rain, the freedom and you, Boyd, 
 that I want. And besides, you know you have 
 forbidden me to have a trousseau. I'll be a 
 wood nymph or a water witch or something 
 of that sort, and such beings do not bother 
 with baggage, I suppose." 
 
 During the next week, Westover was speak- 
 ing day and night, all over the district. He 
 really cared nothing for the office he was run- 
 ning for, but it was his temperament to do his 
 mightiest to win in any contest in which he 
 had a part, and in this case he had the addi- 
 
448 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 tional impulse to gratify- Margaret by secur- 
 ing the biggest majority possible for his elec- 
 tion. 
 
 Meanwhile, in his enthusiasm, Colonel Con- 
 way forgot all about his gout, and busied him- 
 self in the fulfilment of the promise he had 
 long ago given, to fill The Oaks at the wed- 
 ding time with the most brilliant company the 
 country could furnish, and to have feasting 
 there of a kind that might make the occasion 
 memorable. He even made a journey to 
 Washington and fairly forced his old com- 
 mander in the Mexican War, General Scott, to 
 be a guest, honored and honoring the occasion. 
 
 Judy Peters was also an honored guest. 
 When Westover learned at last what part she 
 had borne in his nomination and in his cam- 
 paign, he rode all the way up to her place to 
 persuade her to come. And when the time 
 arrived, he sent the Wanalah carriage to fetch 
 her. She appeared at the ceremony, in a gown 
 more gaudily gorgeous than any that had been 
 seen in that region since " the time whereof 
 the memory of man runneth not to the con- 
 trary." 
 
THE OLD CLOCK 449 
 
 Colonel Conway devoted his particular at- 
 tention to her. Among other special cour- 
 tesies he shared with her a bottle of precious 
 old Madeira too precious, as he told her, 
 to be " wasted on a lot of young fellows whose 
 palates are not educated up to it." 
 
 She drank the wine with relish, and after 
 the third thimbleful glass she gave judgment. 
 
 " It's better 'n apple jack, but in the matter 
 o' taste, 'tain't quite up to peach an' honey, 
 is it now, Bob ? " 
 
 Since his boyhood nobody had ever ven- 
 tured to address Colonel Conway as " Bob," 
 but as it came from Judy's barbaric and priv- 
 ileged lips, he rather liked it. 
 
 The wedding was held in the early morn- 
 ing because Boyd Westover had explained, 
 without a hint of whither they were bound, 
 that he and Margaret had a long journey to 
 make before nightfall. 
 
 The wedding morn was on the day follow- 
 ing the election, and the returns were all in. 
 Carley Farnsworth summarized them to the 
 company by announcing that Westover was 
 elected by the vote of more than three-fourths 
 
450 WESTOVER OF WANALAH 
 
 and nearly four-fifths of the citizens of the 
 district. 
 
 Then he added : 
 
 " And Sam Butler, Democrat, is elected to 
 the House of Delegates, chiefly by the moun- 
 tain vote, which seems to have been pretty 
 nearly solid for him." 
 
 Judy Peters beamed upon Colonel Conway, 
 and ventured the remark : 
 
 " 'Tain't no use a-votin', Colonel, ef you 
 don't stick together an' vote to 'lect. That's 
 our way up in the mountings." 
 
 "Ah, Judy," the Colonel replied, "I'm 
 afraid you're a sad sinner. I'm afraid you 
 manipulated that vote." 
 
 " I ain't close acquainted with that big word 
 o 5 your'n, Bob, but I was purty nigh right in 
 my jedgment as to how this here 'lection was 
 a goin' to come out. Say, Bob, what d'you 
 think that there comb-cut rooster William 
 Wilberforce Webb thinks of hisself by now? 
 I wonder ef he'll unload some o' that name? " 
 
 Westover and his bride left as soon as the 
 ceremony was over, but Colonel Conway kept 
 
THE OLD CLOCK 451 
 
 the festivities going all day, and there was 
 a dance at night. 
 
 The occasion was rich in opportunities for 
 Jack Towns, and, with the alert energy which 
 was characteristic of him, he made the most 
 of them. When, two days later, he left for 
 Boston as Millicent's escort, there was no 
 room for doubt in anybody's mind as to the 
 outcome of his visit to the blue hills of Mil- 
 ton. 
 
 It was a month later, and winter had begun, 
 when Westover and. Margaret just entering 
 the house went to the clock and set it going. 
 She said something no matter what. He 
 said nothing, but gathering her head to his 
 breast, he caressed her. Words seemed super- 
 fluous. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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