JENIFER 
 
 LUCY 
 MEACHAM 
 THRUSTON
 
 
 
 * *-,
 
 IBOX. .OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELE&
 
 JENIFER
 
 SHE STOOD WITH WIDE, DELIGHTED EYES AND FLUSHED 
 CHEEK, AS JENIFER RODE UP TO HER." 
 
 (Page 189) FRONTISPIECE
 
 J e n i f e r 
 
 BY 
 LUCY MEACHAM THRUSTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A GIRL OF VIRGINIA," 
 "MISTRESS BRENT," ETC. 
 
 With a Frontispiece by 
 J. W. Kennedy 
 
 BOSTON 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1907 
 
 P-
 
 Copyright, 7907, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Published May, 1907 
 
 COLONIAL PRESS 
 
 Electrotype* and Printed by C. H. Simondi & Ct 
 Boston, U.S. A,
 
 TO 
 
 3TttIitta 
 
 2133138
 
 Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " SHE STOOD WITH WIDE, DELIGHTED EYES AND 
 FLUSHED CHEEK, AS JENIFER RODE UP TO HER " 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 " THE LAND SLOPED STEEPLY OUTSIDE THE WINDOW, 
 AND SWELLED HIGH AGAIN BEYOND THE NARROW 
 VALLEY ....... 78 
 
 THE LANE AT THE BARRACKS . ...,. . 140 
 BRIAR PARK . . . . . . 174
 
 Jenifer 
 
 A YOUNG man was fishing on the Chowan. The 
 brown, clear current of the river sang under the stern 
 of his boat, and went rushing, dark and cypress-stained, 
 down by bold woods which marched to the brink of 
 the water and studded the bed of the river with gnarled 
 cypress-knees, on where the land was low and rushes 
 grew, where the waters split about the islet Blackbeard 
 loved, and out to the wide blue sound. 
 
 Back by the boat, up in the heart of the swamp- 
 land, the sun glinted deep yellow in the ripples about 
 the sun-grayed stumps, whose crowns had been wafted 
 down the easy river road. It gleamed upon feathery 
 shoots of the denuded trees, upon the mistletoe which 
 nested in their tangles, and on the man, lazy, content, 
 and blissful, in the flat bateau. 
 
 A string of sunfish flapped in the wet bottom of the 
 boat. A bass that had fought for life and set the water 
 swirling, and had exercised the fisher's breathless skill, 
 panted beside them. A fresh-cut sapling, with fishing
 
 2 Jenifer 
 
 cord and hook wrapped about it, trailed from the stern. 
 
 The man had had enough, and for his guerdon were 
 spring sunlight and mist of gray and green upon the 
 hills above the marshland, the blue and tender sky, 
 and that unnamable bliss of wind and wood and 
 water and life, and the beat of a man's pulse with it, 
 rhythm to rhythm. 
 
 The sun shone hot upon him, and the water held 
 and flung back the radiance. With a lazy twirl of 
 the oar at the boat's broad stern Jenifer turned 
 shoreward. 
 
 The day was his, and it was not half-gone. He 
 knew how the store from whose imprisonment he fled 
 looked at this noon hour, big and dark and cool; out- 
 side, the white road, the cotton-gin, the bales beside it; 
 and beyond them the thread of swamp which marked 
 the stream. Fifty yards from the weather-beaten 
 store the railroad track came down across the cotton- 
 field, and the lowered rails of the chestnut fence gave 
 it exit. At the edge of the swamp towered the tank 
 which fed the engines' boilers; and the trestle set its 
 foot in black swamp, and bore its bridge beneath poplar 
 and gum and cypress, while the stained waters ran 
 below. The hum of the one train down one up, 
 one down, each day was on the rails, he knew; 
 the warm air shimmered on the road, on the dip of 
 river-land, and the gin across the way; and the thin 
 line of the engine's smoke was in the air. But for 
 him was the rustling of last year's leaves beneath his 
 tread, the setting of his feet on ferns uncurled and 
 tender flowers, the gathering of twigs, the watching of
 
 Jenifer 3 
 
 blue smoke and licking flame, and the sputtering of 
 fish upon the embers. 
 
 His face, where manhood had not yet firmly chiselled 
 the features, was in his curved hands. His long limbs 
 were deep in old leaves and new flowers. In his pockets 
 was plenty on which to break his fast, biscuit brown 
 and light, ham smoke-cured and pink, cake crumbled 
 to a mass of sweet and fruit and icing, but the fish 
 he broiled upon the coals made his feast. When he 
 had eaten, Jenifer went tramping off for a draught to 
 finish it. 
 
 Low as the land lies along the Chowan here it rolled 
 to round swells of hills, whose feet were in the water, 
 and up whose sides towered trees trailing long gray 
 moss upon their branches. New leaves were on their 
 tips. The low rustling of their soft motion filled the 
 air; that and the young man's tread. Around one 
 curve he went, and up another hill. A trickle sounded 
 near. Jenifer found and followed it to a spring where 
 heart's-leaves swept to the brim and ran, with flowers 
 and ferns, to the hilltop. Between the line of the 
 heart's-leaves and the river was bare clay. 
 
 Jenifer looked at it carelessly. Here it outcropped, 
 and there, and further yet amongst the low hills, and 
 it was neither red nor yellow, like the clay of the land, 
 but gray. 
 
 Suddenly he sprang across the narrow stream, 
 shaped a ball of the stuff eagerly, washed it in the 
 water, and set off running towards the curl of smoke 
 above the coals. Enough of them were glowing red 
 to roll the ball upon and cover it. He piled fresh
 
 4 Jenifer 
 
 branches, cypress cones, and pine bark, and watched 
 fiercely. When the porous, biscuit-colored ball rolled 
 in the dead leaves at his feet, he snatched it and 
 stood up shouting, tossing it from hand to hand, while 
 it scorched his hardened palms. Then he sat down 
 soberly, the soft sheen of the thing between the ferns 
 beside him. 
 
 Men have written the world's fairy-tales, but the 
 masculine mind loves them not. Jenifer, with that 
 ball, shaped like an apple, at his feet, knew nothing 
 of the lore which might have compassed it, no legend 
 of the Hesperides, of Paris, of Solomon, and the tale of 
 Paradise was not remembered; but he knew the stuff 
 of which this was fashioned, and the knowledge over- 
 whelmed him. 
 
 He got up and made his way towards the stream 
 and the sticky sloughs half-covered by drifted leaves. 
 He followed where further and deeper the gray stuff 
 showed. Every sinew of him was strung, his black 
 hair matted with sweat. He took to his bateau, pad- 
 dled furiously up-stream, landed, and tramped the 
 wood; but when he reached the road the whistle which 
 usually marked his way was silent. 
 
 The string of fish was in his hands, the sapling fishing- 
 rod on his shoulder, and his black hat low over his 
 eyes. The heat of the day had intensified, and was still 
 and significant. A line of gray cloud hung above the 
 pines towards the west. The sandy road was empty. 
 
 It wound by fresh plowed earth and green fence 
 corners, through woods and past unkempt fields, to a 
 sandy stretch between newly planted cotton lands and
 
 Jenifer 5 
 
 the borders of the swamp. The black tank that fed 
 the engines stood out against the tender greens and 
 the dark mistletoe in the tree-tops like a tavern sign. 
 Beyond it were the store and cotton-gin, the road 
 between, the white line of paling before the mer- 
 chant's house, the cluster of home buildings, and the 
 green of the live-oaks about them. 
 
 The owner stood in the store door. " Back early," 
 he called to the young man tramping the hot road. 
 " Good luck ? Lord, I should say so," starting out to 
 meet the fisherman. " Look at this ! " handling the 
 bass wonderingly. " Where did you get him ? You 
 don't say so! Take them around to the house. Tell 
 Jennie to have them for supper. He's a buster. 
 Better go again ! " 
 
 Jenifer propped his fishing-rod by the step, and 
 stood in the sand before the door, as if weighing the 
 fish in his hands. 
 
 Mr. Gross looked at him curiously, but Jenifer's 
 wide hat hid his face, all but the chin, and that was 
 well thrust out. 
 
 " Mr. Cross," the young man began hesitantly, 
 " who owns that land down along the river ? Down 
 along where I have been fishing." 
 
 "Back of Wilmot's?" 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " Jack Harrell." 
 
 " Harrell ? " 
 
 " He does; and he might as well not have it. Better 
 off without it, for it won't pay taxes ! And he he's 
 got enough to carry anyhow. Timber cut off that land
 
 6 Jenifer 
 
 long ago what was good for anything. Is it growing 
 up again? Want to buy it? Nothing but hill and 
 swamp and clay. Want to buy it ? " he repeated as if 
 it were a huge jest. " Know anybody who does ? " 
 
 " No," said Jenifer slowly. 
 
 " If you do, you can tell them for me that they'll be 
 taken in, sure pop. Better carry those fish around. 
 Jennie'll be in the kitchen soon." 
 
 Jenifer had his hand on the big gate which opened 
 on the wide yard; inside of that was a fancy paling 
 about a flower garden, with a little green gate opening 
 on the path to the porch. " Mr. Cross," he called 
 back, " do you want me right away ? " 
 
 " No, you've got a day off. Better take it all." 
 
 " All right ! " Jenifer slammed the big gate behind 
 him, and circled the house toward the kitchen. 
 
 He came out behind it, took a path which cut across 
 the field, and gained the railroad track, following it to a 
 thicket of gallberries and cedars. He had not noticed 
 that the gray clouds were covering the sky and the 
 thunder which shook the air had rolled unheeded, but 
 when he came out in a churchyard, beyond the thicket, 
 a sudden heavy pattering struck the young leaves over- 
 head and in a second a burst of stinging, lashing rain 
 beat on them. The wind tore and twisted the heavy 
 branches of the oaks and raged across the level yard. 
 
 Jenifer raced for the church steps. They were un- 
 sheltered and leaf-strewn. He shook at the big folding 
 doors, and the old lock loosened under his hands. The 
 wide doors flew open. He entered, and stood laughing 
 as the rain swept across the worn, unpainted steps
 
 Jenifer 7 
 
 and beat the thin grass, and the big drops lay like 
 shot in the sand. 
 
 A flash of lightning tore across the sky; the thunder 
 crashed louder; the rain rushed in sheets across the 
 yard. What Jenifer had thought a spring-time shower 
 was like a summer storm, and he was prisoner. 
 
 The big room back of him was dark and dusky, 
 the ceiling gloomy, the windows narrow, and rattling 
 in their casements. The pulpit towered high and 
 white and solemn. The thrill of awe along the young 
 man's nerves was nonsensical; he was sheltered and 
 safe. But it was dark. False night was in the church, 
 false dusk under the oaks, and a thunder of rain was on 
 the steep roof. 
 
 Jenifer walked slowly up between the bare pews, 
 and stopped with his hands on one. He smiled as he 
 remembered how soberly he had last Sabbath sat there. 
 Now he was tired. He stretched his big limbs on the 
 bench, and in a second he was asleep. 
 
 He slept but a scant quarter of an hour, but so soundly 
 that it made oblivion between the world he had slipped 
 from and that to which he awakened. A roof stretched 
 high and dark above his head. The pew-backs shut 
 him in. What was this awesome place? What did 
 the dim distance hide ? A square of light shone through, 
 and something ghostly seemed to flit from it towards 
 him. Nearer it came, some mystery materialized from 
 the borderland; and in that instant of awe between 
 awakening and realizing Jenifer had an insight, like a 
 flash, into the thing which seemed to him natural, 
 which he had planned by the river and along the road,
 
 8 Jenifer 
 
 and was hurrying to accomplish when the storm over- 
 took him. He saw it, not as it would be to legal eyes, 
 but as it was. 
 
 Then the ghostly object touched his nerveless hand 
 and he knew it to be alive, not spiritual essence, but 
 animal life. 
 
 His laugh, with a strange note in it, rang to the rafters ; 
 still, young though he was, neither seeing nor speculat- 
 ing upon life, Jenifer had stood for one heavy heart-beat 
 in the illuminating light. 
 
 It faded instantly. A draught from the shallow well, 
 a dash of cold water across his eyes, a long baring of 
 his head to the fresh wind, and Jenifer hurried on. 
 The scent of wet earth and leaves blew about him; a 
 faint rainbow was outlined upon the sky; and in the 
 road a troop of school children, kept housed by 
 the sudden storm, went merrily homeward, tall girls, 
 and big boys, and a slip of a girl for teacher. The 
 tin pails on their arms flashed the low light towards 
 him. 
 
 Across the road, far down a lane, was Harrell's 
 home. The storm had broken over him as he planted 
 cotton in the rows. The hour of sunlight left could 
 not be wasted, and Harrell was hurrying across the 
 furrows with a basket of the round gray seeds hanging 
 on his arm. Jenifer, through the thicket of sassafras, 
 could see him standing boldly out against the brown 
 earth and the perspective of the wooded swamp; and 
 he bit his lip and flushed and laughed at thought of 
 what he, unseen, must see. 
 
 Harrell had caught sight of the troop in the road
 
 Jenifer 9 
 
 and strode to the fence to intercept it. The girls ran 
 away giggling, the boys hurried with long sober steps 
 and half-scornful faces; and the little teacher was left 
 in a pretence of wonder opposite him, and alone. 
 
 " Bess," he called softly. 
 
 "Oh, Jack! Is that you?" 
 
 Harrell laughed. When had he missed a day from 
 seeing her somewhere along that road ? " You are late 
 to-day." He leaned contentedly against the shining 
 rails, as if cotton planting were done. 
 
 " Yes, the storm caught us." 
 
 " Were you scared ? " he teased. 
 
 Bess stood poised as if for a run. She could have 
 beaten every girl who loitered slowly along the sandy 
 way, had they raced her to the pines which shadowed 
 the road where the boys went slowly. 
 
 " I don't see why you won't speak to me," the man 
 coaxed. 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " You, there in the middle of the road. I haven't 
 seen you before to-day." 
 
 " No." She stole a glance at him around the corner 
 of her big sunbonnet. 
 
 " I am coming over there." Harrell put his hands 
 on the fence as if to spring over. " I am going to walk 
 home with you." 
 
 " No, no ; you must not." In her earnestness Bess 
 came close up to the fence. 
 
 " I don't see why I shouldn't." But Harrell was 
 satisfied. He had made the threat only to bring her
 
 IO Jenifer 
 
 " School will soon be over," he said tentatively. 
 " Are you glad ? " 
 
 " A little," with a shy look up at him. Her lashes 
 were long and her eyes which should have been brown, 
 in keeping with her coloring, were blue. Her cheeks, 
 with the tint of that bonnet upon them, were pink as a 
 wild rose. " You see the hot weather is coming on, 
 and the thunder-storms. They scare me almost to 
 death," she admitted. 
 
 " This one was not so bad," declared Harrell lightly. 
 He was thinking how hard it was to see her face and 
 longing to untie the starched strings beneath her chin 
 and touch her warm cheek with his hand. 
 
 " But you never know what the next one is going to 
 be like, once they have begun." 
 
 " How is your mother ? " he asked abruptly. 
 
 " Just the same. She was walking about a little 
 when I left to-day." Harrell had broken the spell of 
 the happy moment. " I must hurry. The girls are 
 waiting. It is getting late." The little hand that had 
 rested for a moment on the rail moved nervously. 
 
 Harrell stooped to break a branch of spicewood that 
 grew close by the fence. His hat fairly brushed her 
 hand as he leaned, and when he straightened again 
 his lips had touched it warmly and tenderly; and the 
 girl's face was redder than the wild rose ever blooms. 
 She was half-way across the road before he could speak. 
 
 " Good-by," he called. 
 
 " Good-by," said Bess faintly; but the tunnel of her 
 bonnet was toward him. 
 
 Jenifer waited till the pines hid her and the laughing
 
 Jenifer n 
 
 girls the boys were far ahead and when he came 
 up with Harrell the farmer's back was toward him. 
 The basket of seeds was at Harrell's feet, the spicewood 
 still in his hand, and he was looking at it, smiling. 
 
 " Hello, Harrell ! " 
 
 There was no friendly flash in Harrell's eyes as he 
 turned. He felt himself spied upon. " Well, Jenifer," 
 he said carelessly. 
 
 " Planting cotton ? " anything to cover up the awkward 
 moment. 
 
 Harrell picked up the basket and began sorting the 
 seeds between his fingers. " Yes." 
 
 " I wanted to see you a moment," stammered Jenifer, 
 keeping pace with the farmer down the row. 
 
 " Anything special ? " Harrell straightened. 
 
 "Well, yes; I suppose so. You have got a good 
 deal of land about here." 
 
 " More than I can manage by myself; and hands 
 are not to be hired." 
 
 " And some down by the river. Want to sell any of 
 it ? " 
 
 " Which ? " 
 
 " How about that down on the river ? " 
 
 Harrell stood gazing at him with something of the 
 same searching look Mr. Cross had given. " It's 
 worth nothing," he said shortly, " nothing at all." 
 
 " What will you take for it ? " 
 
 " There are a hundred acres, maybe more. If it's 
 worth anything it's worth five hundred dollars." Har- 
 rell was impatient with what he thought foolery. He 
 dropped the seeds into the hill by his side, shovelled
 
 12 Jenifer 
 
 the earth above them with his foot, and went on with 
 his planting. 
 
 Five hundred dollars ! Jenifer had just that sum. 
 It was locked in Mr. Cross's safe; and it was what the 
 clerk had earned, barring the expenses of his clothes, 
 behind those counters. Last year his employer had 
 made money in cotton bales, buying them up through 
 the county, stacking them under the live-oaks in his 
 yard, and selling them as the market jumped. Jenifer 
 had intended to do with his small sum what Mr. Cross 
 had done with more. He had even played the game 
 in fancy. 
 
 The telephone from that quiet corner in the gin 
 stretched across to a market of the world; but the 
 machines were new, following only the railroad, and 
 there were few in the county. The knowledge they 
 brought could be used for gain. This argument flashed 
 through Jenifer's mind while he broke a clod beneath 
 his heel; yet he was capable of instant reply. 
 
 " Very well, I will take it." 
 
 " You ! " Harrell whirled around. " What's come 
 over you ? " 
 
 " Nothing." Jenifer's boyish face was imperturbable. 
 
 " Lord knows I want the money bad enough, but I 
 don't want to sell," added Harrell inconsistently. 
 
 " Well," said Jenifer calmly, " I have the money, 
 and I want the land. If you will come up to the store 
 we can draw up the papers, and I will pay you." 
 
 Harrell whistled under his breath. " I'll see about 
 it," he promised at last, " and come up and let you 
 know."
 
 Jenifer 13 
 
 " To-night ? " 
 
 " No, to-morrow." He would look over the land 
 again to see if there was anything in it; if not 
 
 " Good night," called Jenifer. 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 Jenifer went whistling homeward. The moon hung 
 above the cypress swamp; the west was red; the sand 
 wet and hard underfoot; the air cool: and there was a 
 possibility in Jenifer's mind which dazzled him. 
 
 When he walked into the store a schoolboy who had 
 been bidden to make a purchase lingered there. His 
 books were on the counter. Jenifer, hiding his exuber- 
 ance, opened one of them with a nervous hand. It 
 was a geography, thick leaved, big printed, and well 
 thumbed. 
 
 " Mr. Cross," called the young man gaily, " I bet 
 you have forgotten every bit of geography you ever 
 knew." 
 
 " The idea ! " his employer flashed. 
 
 Jenifer turned the pages quickly. " What zone do 
 you live in ? " 
 
 " Temperate." Mr. Cross straightened his tall 
 figure by the doorway. 
 
 " North or south ? " Jenifer pressed him. 
 
 " South, sir; of course. What do you take me for ? " 
 shouted this warm partisan, and for a second he won- 
 dered why his clerk doubled with laughter by the counter.
 
 II 
 
 JENIFER'S money was in Harrell's pockets; the deed 
 to Han-ell's river land lay in the squat black safe where 
 the slow-mounting greenbacks had been hid; and a 
 daily train, which wound its way northward, had carried 
 with its other freight a wooden box, small but heavy. 
 
 Jenifer waited. The days slipped by with a beauty 
 which sickened him. The mistletoe was hidden in the 
 tree-tops; the cypress trailed its green to touch the river; 
 gum and poplar bowered the tank beside the glistening 
 rails, and the poplar had flowered. Still, never, as the 
 train came down across the field, where the cotton 
 showed its leaves, was there packet or letter for the 
 young man, whose face lost its boyish roundness in 
 that waiting. 
 
 When the hiss of the freed steam filled the air and 
 the thud of the pumping was like a steady beat upon 
 the heavy atmosphere, he stood daily, talking, perhaps, 
 with the conductor and looking at the few faces against 
 the dusty window-frames or swinging his feet from the 
 door of the baggage-car and eyeing the lean mail-sacks 
 by his hand, feeling that he could grasp the coach 
 and shake it from end to end in his mad impatience, 
 or rip the sacks with fierce gashes and scatter every 
 packet in fern and weed and oozy mud, but to grasp 
 the one he looked for. 
 
 14
 
 Jenifer 15 
 
 Watching the gray-striped bags and tarnished metal, 
 he took to riding across the shadowed trestle and around 
 the sandy curve to the cross-roads, the station, and 
 the post-office, where one had the right to unclasp the 
 locks and handle with careless touch those frail 
 things which meant so much : and never one of them for 
 him. 
 
 Then he grew tired of it. Any one who wished might 
 bring the mail. The man to whom he had written had 
 cared too little even to answer him; and Jenifer set 
 his teeth, and wondered how now he should start to 
 better his fortunes, as he had vowed he would do. 
 That dream of cotton speculation had been his only 
 other plan; and the money with which he could have 
 speculated was gone. 
 
 Back there, in the State from which Jenifer had come, 
 a man with money in his hand had founded a school 
 where any boy who lacked the means to gain it else- 
 where could find an education. The lad's need should 
 be his only plea. Even such as Jenifer, who boasted 
 no lineage and knew no kin, were welcomed. From 
 the knowledge gained in his primer lessons of the labora- 
 tory Jenifer had made his guess; and to the chemist, 
 whose seeming magic he had watched, the package 
 had been sent; but there had been from the professor 
 only silence. 
 
 Jenifer told himself that he had been forgotten as 
 soon as the door of the school closed behind him. Be- 
 fore he, homesick for the shouting boys and friendly 
 men, had found the means to earn his bread and grown 
 frightened in the city market-place for labor; before,
 
 16 Jenifer 
 
 by happy chance, he had fallen in with the merchant, 
 a visitor to the city, who needed a clerk for his country 
 store and fancied the boy's earnest face and still tongue 
 and length of limb and air of strength; before he, the 
 graduate, had found a home, the school had forgotten 
 him. 
 
 The thought was bitter. The friendliness of his 
 schoolfellows was the best Jenifer had known. His 
 mother had died before he had knowledge of her; his 
 father was scarce a remembrance; and the school had 
 been his brightest memory. 
 
 At last, when many a day the train had gone un- 
 noticed through the trees and over the narrow river, 
 on a slumberous afternoon, after the curl of smoke 
 above the cypresses had floated long away, Jenifer came 
 from the counting-room at the sound of a shout in the 
 dim cool store. 
 
 The room was deserted, but he heard the patter of a 
 boy's bare feet across the step. 
 
 " Jim, Jim," Jenifer called from the door, as the 
 negro opened the yard gate, " what do you want ? " 
 
 " Lettah fer you; on de countah." 
 
 He leaped for it. Before he caught it up he saw the 
 black typing of the school's address in the corner. It 
 had come. He held it. But it would tell him he was 
 a fool for his pains. He stood with the letter in his 
 hands, and the cold sweat was on his forehead. Then, 
 in a second, he had torn off the cover, whirled out the 
 leaves, seized the meaning from them, and was dancing, 
 as if mad, from end to end of the huge high room. 
 
 "Kaolin," he shouted. "Kaolin, kaolin!" And
 
 Jenifer 17 
 
 then more soberly and under his breath, " I knew it, 
 I knew it." 
 
 The dusky place was not big enough for that flood of 
 rapture; all the world in sight could scarce afford space. 
 So still it was that at the counting-room door the fowls 
 scratched and clucked and peered with sidewise glances 
 into the room. The road was deserted. Besides, the 
 clerk could watch from across the way. Jenifer was 
 out, beneath the sky; and in the cool shadow of the 
 closed gin he spread the stiff pages and read and weighed 
 each word. 
 
 Had that biscuit-colored ball been the apple of Hes- 
 perides the magic were not more certain. 
 
 The package had reached the school when the pro- 
 fessor was ill and it had lain long in the laboratory. 
 Analysis had proven the stuff to be of the highest value 
 and so strange are the crossings of fate the chemist, 
 well-known for his research into the native values of 
 his State, had that month received a letter from a great 
 pottery of the West asking if he had knowledge of kaolin 
 deposits. The professor added that he could arrange 
 the sale of it, if Jenifer so desired, and the letter ended 
 with personalities. 
 
 The country about the store and gin and house had 
 its share of canvassers, strange men beginning to 
 wonder if this unknown corner might have its useful- 
 ness, prospective buyers of cheap lands which might be 
 turned to profit, hunters of lumber, crop speculators, 
 sellers of fertilizers, chance peddlers, so that it caused 
 no surprise when a stranger hung about the cross-roads 
 village for a day or two.
 
 i8 Jenifer 
 
 The astonishment began later with Mr. Cross. 
 
 " Mr. Cross," asked Jenifer, when the stranger had 
 been gone a month, and the idle season of the store had 
 come, " you said you wanted to give me some time off 
 this summer?" 
 
 Mr. Cross's chair was tilted back against the counter 
 and his hat pulled over his eyes. He seemed half- asleep, 
 but in fact he was calculating intently some crop figures 
 he had received that morning. 
 
 " Yes," he said lazily. " Yes, I do. You've been 
 looking peaked lately, Jenifer; don't you feel well? " 
 
 " Never felt better." 
 
 " Well, want it now ? " 
 
 " I I think so." 
 
 A furrow of perplexity had beaten itself between 
 Jenifer's brows. He was face to face with problems 
 too great for him, and he had no intimates. The county, 
 with its tangles of intermarriages and associations, 
 assimilated new life slowly. Jenifer was still on trial 
 before it; and his employer's good-will, which was 
 genuine, showed itself chiefly in his chaffing. 
 
 Lately Mr. Cross had begun to wonder at Jenifer's 
 abstraction and the perplexity which showed itself in 
 the boy's face. 
 
 " Well, if you are not sure, neither am I," he said 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 " I should like to get off for a little while," Jenifer 
 admitted hesitantly. 
 
 " Now's your time. When do you want to go ? " 
 
 " Next week." 
 
 " All right."
 
 Jenifer 19 
 
 " Mr. Cross, could you spare me if would it matter 
 if I did not come back ? " 
 
 " Name of wonder, Jenifer " Mr. Cross brought 
 his chair down straight " what are you talking 
 about ? " 
 
 Jenifer fought the temptation to say " I don't know." 
 There was not a stealthy streak in him. This thing 
 had been done in secret because he feared he was playing 
 the fool, and if he did his loss was sufficient penalty 
 without the incessant chaffing about it which would 
 last as long as he should live there. He knew too well 
 the tenacity with which the store loungers held to their 
 old jests, and he had seen too often the gray-headed 
 man redden at the telling of a boyish prank. So he had 
 dared for himself, with the knowledge of none about 
 him. 
 
 Now he came out from the counter and thrust his 
 hands deep into his pockets. It was past the noon, 
 and blazing hot. There would be no customers before 
 the cool of the evening and there was no chance that 
 they would be disturbed. 
 
 " Mr. Cross," he began, " you know that land I 
 bought from Jack Harrell ? " 
 
 Mr. Cross was watching him. With the roundness 
 worn from Jenifer's face the line of his cheek was long, 
 the thrust of his chin more aggressive; and the look 
 in his eyes was no longer careless. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the older man shortly, as he puzzled. 
 " But what you want with it the Lord only knows." 
 
 " I have sold it." 
 
 " What ! " in open astonishment. " I didn't know
 
 20 Jenifer 
 
 you had so much sense." But the tone was kindly. 
 " What did you get for it ? " 
 
 " I haven't quite closed the deal yet." Jenifer used 
 the term smoothly enough to show how often it had 
 been in his mind. 
 
 " How much have you been offered ? " 
 
 " Two hundred thousand dollars." 
 
 " You lie." Mr. Cross sprang to his feet. He gripped 
 Jenifer's shoulder. 
 
 " No," Jenifer's glance showed a gleam of amuse- 
 ment, " no, I do not." 
 
 " Come over here by the door," holding him where 
 the blaze of the sun beat on them both. " What did 
 you find on it ? " instantly divining the cause of such 
 value. 
 
 " It's too hot here. Sit down again. I want to tell 
 you." 
 
 " What was it ? " Mr. Cross insisted peremptorily. 
 " Lord," he interjaculated between Jenifer's quick 
 sentences. " Those old sloughs ! I never dreamed of 
 them. What fools we have been. And you Goon." 
 Mr. Cross clenched his hands behind him. His eyes 
 blazed. He strode up and down the worn floor of the 
 store. 
 
 Jenifer leaned against the counter. His face was 
 blanched, but his speech was deliberate; and he told 
 every circumstance, Mr. Cross's ejaculations breaking 
 in upon his words. 
 
 The employer was a man who believed unfalteringly 
 in his State. With keen business instincts he had been 
 content to pick up the threads his own father had left
 
 Jenifer 21 
 
 with loose and flying ends, and to weave them into a 
 fortune. His cotton-fields had prospered when his 
 neighbors vowed they could meet neither meat nor 
 fertilizer bill. He was trying a new venture of peanut 
 cultivation in his light fields, and succeeding with it. 
 His gin supplied the needs of the neighborhood and 
 his own pockets. His store brought moderate returns. 
 His speculations were generally safe. He was in touch 
 with every experiment in the State, and one of the 
 staunchest upholders in her possibilities. Here was 
 an object-lesson, and with a vengeance. 
 
 The boy brought by him to their county had laid 
 hands upon their unguessed treasure. Still, he was 
 great enough, and just and kind enough, to see Jenifer's 
 side, to listen, encourage, and advise. 
 
 " I tell you, Jenifer," he ended, " they sha'n't do you. 
 Say you are going to meet the agent in Norfolk this 
 week ? Well, I'm going up too. No, don't thank me. 
 You have done your work here, and done it well. And 
 I hoped I thought you were going to settle down 
 amongst us. 
 
 " Do you want me to tell this ? " he asked abruptly. 
 
 " No, not till it is put through, till the thing is finished." 
 
 " I see. But " the older man began to question, 
 the younger to answer. Again they went over the matter 
 in every detail. Mr. Gross stood motionless in the 
 door when the story was finished. 
 
 There was the hot sandy road, there the gin its 
 doors closed till the new crops should fill it; and the 
 heavy greenness of summer was on the swamp. The 
 man went back over his hard fight and toil, and weighed
 
 22 Jenifer 
 
 what he had won. So some men measure lives, counting 
 neither joy of living, nor guerdon of dawn and light of 
 stars and summer's ecstasy and winter's night, neither 
 the rapture of love, nor the bliss of hope fulfilled, 
 nothing but the sum of their possessions. Only in finer 
 moments, and few, do they grasp the breadth, the 
 height, the depth of that full life which is every man's 
 meed. 
 
 Still, this man was generous enough to feel no envy, 
 even when he measured by such standards. " Tell 
 you what, Jenifer," he advised, speaking slowly, " such 
 things will leak out somehow; wonder this hasn't done 
 so already; and and it's hard on Jack," he said 
 suddenly, with a keen look at Jenifer. But the young 
 man did not see it. He was too bewildered with the 
 whirl of thought and a guess at what lay before him. 
 " I can spare you. You had better go right along. 
 What day are you to be there ? Tuesday ? And this is 
 Friday. Better go right up; and I will meet you there. 
 Yes, I am going to see this thing through. Can you 
 catch the train ? All right." 
 
 Since the cars had brought Jenifer down he had been 
 no further on them than around to the little post-office. 
 The cotton had been white with bursting pods when 
 he came. He looked at it from the narrow window of 
 the coach, and it looked now like row upon row of 
 gay colored hollyhocks. Behind him the gray clustered 
 buildings, the liveoak tops, and the green swamp slid 
 from sight. 
 
 The rest was so easy it seemed impossible. 
 
 There came a day when Jenifer sat on a wharf of
 
 Jenifer 23 
 
 the city and wondered what he should do with him- 
 self. 
 
 A bank had always been, in his mind, a place where 
 money grows, and he had handed his check through a 
 bank window with an absolute faith in the safety of 
 such planting, a trust which was not betrayed. When 
 he thought of it at all he felt a happy consciousness of 
 the fruitage which would grow upon it; but the sum of 
 his feelings was a sense of liberty. 
 
 He was free ! That strife for daily bread, that struggle 
 for the beginnings of prosperity, that wonder as to his 
 ability to earn such, which every man must feel, was 
 done away with. Jenifer could do as he chose. 
 
 In his heart was bursting into bloom the dream 
 which had fed his fancy when the teacher's pointer 
 trailed across the map, and the strange sounding names 
 of distant lands and vast seas and old cities broke on 
 the drowsy air. That growing fancy made the fascina- 
 tion of the wharves. 
 
 For the city, with its hot streets and close cafes and 
 crowded counters, he cared not at all; but the wide 
 water with its far shore of hazy blue, the bending of 
 white sails to the breeze, the ruffle of wind upon the 
 mighty river! And the cotton bales piled behind him, 
 the stretches of peanut sacks roof high, the smell of 
 resin, and of the sea ! 
 
 Sitting thus, his soft hat low over his shining eyes 
 and his idle feet dangling above the lapping tide, the 
 sail of a ship slid close beside him. Jenifer looked up 
 and laughed at the quizzical glances of the men upon 
 the deck and at the sails which flapped above him.
 
 24 Jenifer 
 
 " Hi, there," a sailor shouted. " Look out 1 Get 
 to work ! " as he flung a coil of rope upon the wharf. 
 " Make fast ! " The sails were rattling upon the deck. 
 
 " Say, what are you doing there anyhow ? " called 
 another as he worked. " Look lazy enough ! " 
 
 Jenifer answered in kind. He had flung the coil 
 about the pile, and the coastwise ship scraped against 
 the heavy wharf. He stood erect and strong, his hands 
 upon his straight hips, and called back to them, and 
 the captain, with a careless measurement of the young 
 man's good-nature and his idleness, flung out a jest. 
 
 " Want to go along ? " he asked as he sprang ashore. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Lord only knows. Charleston first ; then anywhere." 
 
 " When do you sail ? " 
 
 " To-day. Going ? " 
 
 " Yes," with Jenifer's aptitude for instant decision. 
 
 The captain began a more careful category. It was 
 a small ship and built for work. No passenger had ever 
 bunked in her narrow cabin. Yet the impulse which 
 had prompted her owner impelled an easy arrangement 
 with Jenifer. When the ship slipped out between the 
 capes he stood upon her deck. 
 
 By daybreak the land was a blur behind them; and 
 before him the blue, with that deep line of sapphire 
 swinging on its far curve, that line which bewitches 
 and promises and beckons, pressing into its service 
 even the waves as they run singing by the ship and 
 setting them to whisper : " Over, beyond ; over, beyond." 
 
 Far they pursued it. Often it was hidden. Long 
 lines of sandy reefs, where the wind tossed the dunes
 
 Jenifer 2^ 
 
 into fantastic shapes, cut between them and that sap- 
 phire sorcerer; wooded banks of deep rivers shut them 
 in; islands where the palms cast stiff shadows lay be- 
 tween them and that witching blue; but ever, when the 
 ship was free of them, there it swung, and they pursued. 
 When Jenifer landed again in Norfolk he had been 
 gone two years.
 
 Ill 
 
 HE was sunburned and sinewy. All his roundness 
 had been burned and worked away. His gray eyes 
 were both keen and dreamy; his black hair was reddened 
 beneath his cap. 
 
 It took some trouble to prove his identity at the 
 bank, and he found that his money tree had borne him 
 harvest. His royalties they were Mr. Cross's pro- 
 vision had come in slowly the first year, better and 
 faster every month of the next, and they told the success 
 of the unequalled find. But Jenifer had no desire to 
 go clanking down the half hundred miles which lay 
 between to see how curiously the new rough laid line 
 private property of the company, switching on, by 
 rights for which it paid dearly, to the old rails across 
 the cotton-fields cut into the heart of the silent woods. 
 
 It seemed to him shut away forever. The other part 
 of his life was not yet begun and the zest of it was eating 
 into his heart. 
 
 No branch of that tree whose roots were in the bank's 
 vaults must be broken; but its fruit could be gathered 
 freely, and with that in his pockets Jenifer turned 
 northwards. 
 
 The South admits three capitals, Richmond, of 
 the finest country beneath the flag, New York, of the 
 26
 
 Jenifer 27 
 
 entire Americas, Paris, of the world. But Jenifer had 
 been bred apart. He knew no affiliations. His mind 
 turned to the nearest city; and in less than a month he 
 was in Baltimore. 
 
 He reached the city at Ghristmas time. Those 
 months of slipping along the edges of the world had 
 intensified every aptitude for delight, and his ease of 
 mind, the freedom of his outlook, the newness and 
 freshness of the world he fell upon made him forget 
 his alien estate. 
 
 The misty mornings when the shop lights shone out 
 into the fog; the heaps of holly at the corners of the 
 streets; the fakirs who lined the curbs; the venders of 
 crinkly strands of silver and gold to trail upon the 
 Christmas tree; the slow moving of close pressed 
 figures, like swaying sombre flowers ; these Jenifer 
 saw. 
 
 He filled his pockets with toffee at the market stalls. 
 He treated the beggars up and down the street. He 
 bought till the fakirs hailed his tall figure, his leisurely 
 look, and his kindly eyes across the crowd. He had 
 no knowledge of fees or tips, but at the hotel, a square 
 or two away, bell-boys and waiters were keen to wait 
 upon him. They kept, all of them, hoards of trifles 
 which they could freely give on that day which offsets 
 the sway of winter. They never knew what was coming 
 out of Jenifer's pockets, nor on whom it might be be- 
 stowed. Half-way up the corridor to his room the 
 young man's store was usually depleted. 
 
 The days were shorter. Longer were the morning 
 fogs and earlier in the evening they drifted through
 
 a8 Jenifer 
 
 the ways, hiding the tall cornices and massing the 
 corners of the streets. The light showed pale and 
 golden through the- mists. The holly was piled higher. 
 The fakirs strung down the narrow street and far along 
 its crossings. The market was ablaze, its corners 
 piled with cedar, spruce, and pine. It was Christmas 
 eve; and Jenifer, abroad, lived a strange night. 
 
 " Goin' out, sah ? " asked the waiter, as Jenifer 
 pushed back his chair. ' ' Deed you bettah had. 
 Times hyar in de street dis night. Lawd-ee, you nebbah 
 seen nothin' like 'em. Dat's a fac'. Git yo'se'f a bell, 
 sah, an' a horn good and strong; an' de bell mus' be a 
 cowbell wid a string." 
 
 " What in the name of mischief would I do with 
 them ? " 
 
 " You'll see, sah." Ben's mouth was one wide grin. 
 " You'll 1'arn soon ernough. You ain't gwine stay in 
 ter-night ? " he asked anxiously. The negro had been 
 waiting on Jenifer, attaching himself to the young man 
 more and more since the day he entered the house; 
 and Ben had his own good reasons for doing so. " You 
 ain't gwine stay in ? " he repeated. 
 
 " I certainly shall not." 
 
 " Den you bettah git raidy good. Ise gwine be on 
 han* myse'f," he chuckled. 
 
 Jenifer stood with his hand on his chair. He had 
 come in late he could never bear the crowd and 
 clatter at its height and the room was nearly empty. 
 In this corner, which he had first chosen, there was no 
 one near him and the friendly negro. 
 
 " Boss," Ben cautioned, " ef you ain't done heard
 
 Jenifer 29 
 
 nothin' 'bout ter-night, an' you aint nebbah been hyar 
 befo' " 
 
 Jenifer's " Never was here a day before in my life," 
 was a trifle curt. 
 
 " Den you do as I tells you. You goes to the theatre. 
 Wish I could go myse'f. Thank you, sah; thank you. 
 Chris'mas gif sho ernough. Ise gwine now sutten. 
 You puts a bell in yo' pocket " 
 
 " I'm no cow," Jenifer interjected. He was both 
 amused and impatient. 
 
 " Lawd-ee. De cowbell's what you want though. 
 An'-" 
 
 " Go along; attend to your work," warned Jenifer 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 " Well, you go to the theatre first," Ben followed to 
 say. " De fun don't begin till 'long 'bout de time de 
 show lets out. An' you'll see, or my name's not 
 Ben," the negro chattered. But Jenifer was out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Lawd," said the negro as he piled the dishes, " it 
 does me good to see him eat. No foolin' wid de vittles 
 an* mixin' 'em up an' callin' for outlandish things; 
 but jes like he's hongry, an' de things tas'e good. Ise 
 gwine look fer him on de street sho', an* he'll be dyar. 
 Den he'll see." 
 
 Jenifer, coming down the theatre steps, found himself 
 in a sea of people and going with the tide. So closely 
 they pressed that the plume of a woman's hat brushed 
 his cheek, and as far as he could see under the lamp- 
 posts and by the arc lights which crisscrossed their 
 white beams across the way, the human wave spread.
 
 3O Jenifer 
 
 Onward to the corner it bore him, and down the street 
 where carnival reigned from curb to curb. 
 
 The cars were jammed helplessly back on the cross 
 streets; and down the bed of the thoroughfare, with 
 bells clanging against the cobbles, with blaring horns, 
 and balls and candies tossed from hand to hand, surged 
 the throng, till it came to a far intersecting street, where 
 suddenly were silence and emptiness and long lines of 
 light upon deserted ways. 
 
 Back again, through press and furious fun, to the 
 market sheds. Bands joined forces; friends fell in be- 
 hind those they knew; strangers banded together for 
 the fray; and Jenifer was in the thick of it. 
 
 " You got dat bell ? " Ben shouted as he passed. 
 The horn at his own black lips was like a megaphone. 
 " An' dat horn ? Lawd-ee, keep erway from hyar." 
 Jenifer had blown a blast in the negro's ear, and he 
 showered Ben with tinsel till the negro's shoulders 
 glittered like a Christmas bush. " I'll gib you a tas'e 
 o* dis ef you don't, an' de Lawd knows dis will blow 
 yo' hat clean off yo' haid, an' yo' hair 'long wid it." 
 
 But the crowd had parted them. Ben was jammed 
 against a store window; Jenifer was in the middle of 
 the street. 
 
 " Hi, dyar, jes look at dat," Ben chuckled when 
 next they met. A girl had slipped on some of the stuff 
 with which the street was strewn, and Jenifer caught 
 her with his arm. 
 
 She was a pretty girl, tall and slender, with hair too 
 exaggerated with fluffiness, and hat too large and 
 elaborate of plumage; but her eyes were big and blue,
 
 Jenifer 31 
 
 her teeth white, and she seemed filled with the spirit of 
 the hour. She shrieked her thanks at Jenifer. The 
 man and woman with her closed around them and 
 swept Jenifer on with their crowd. 
 
 Ben dropped the megaphone from his lips. 
 
 " Boss," said Ben, when they stumbled upon one 
 another near the hotel door it was long past the 
 midnight " Boss, dat sho was fine." 
 
 " It was that. Here, take this." Jenifer paused 
 in the empty hall to fling to the negro the horn and 
 bell and bags of glittering sweets. " Lord, look at me," 
 he cried, as he caught sight of himself in the long mirror 
 he passed. 
 
 Shoulders and coat were covered with flour; his 
 cheeks were streaked, his hat awry; but his eyes were 
 glowing, and, tired as he was, he was ready to laugh 
 at the sight the glass gave back. 
 
 " J es gib 7' coat an ' nat hyar, an' go 'long to baid. 
 I'll tend to 'em." Jenifer slipped his arms from his 
 coat, and stretched them above his head. " Whew, 
 but I'm tired ! " 
 
 ' ' Spec' you is, all dat cavortin' I seen you a-doin'." 
 
 " Did some yourself, didn't you ? " Jenifer leaned 
 over the banister to ask. 
 
 ' ' Deed I did." Ben started down the corridor, but 
 looked back at the tall figure with bent head and sleepy 
 eyes. 
 
 When Jenifer had appeared at the house, his absolute 
 way of doing just as he chose and his total unconscious- 
 ness of any difference or of any reason for fashioning
 
 32 Jenifer 
 
 himself after a fancied model, had aroused the amuse- 
 ment of the servants. His large-heartedness had changed 
 that amusement to something which bore a strong tinge 
 of respect, but there was an uncertainty as to what 
 the young man would next do. 
 
 Ben, with the hilarity of the hour, called up, " Merry 
 Christmas." 
 
 " Merry Christmas," Jenifer echoed with a laugh. 
 
 But the words, as a recurrent date may, set him 
 thinking. Jenifer saw, as he flung off his clothes and 
 long after his head was on his pillow, deep woods and 
 green moss underfoot, and overhead bare branches 
 with entangled mistletoe; and he heard, instead of the 
 roll of belated wagon wheels and the smooth sliding of 
 cars along steel rails, the deep swift rush of the Chowan, 
 with the ripples of its swirl about the cypress. He 
 saw blue and distant harbors, the reaches of still, tropic 
 seas; and while they and all that he could remember 
 were, in his mind, continuous, he seemed himself to 
 stand apart from them and the future alike. 
 
 He had not feared when the bar was put up across 
 the fold of school and he was outside; he had felt no 
 misgiving concerning a strange country and people; 
 the last two years had been ecstatically satisfying: now, 
 on what he termed to himself a lark, Jenifer was sud- 
 denly uncertain and the future lacked radiance.
 
 IV 
 
 THAT Christmas was the loneliest day Jenifer had 
 ever known. The church bells had ceased ringing 
 when he came down. Ben waited. 
 
 " Lawd, boss, you might as well have stayed erway 
 tel dinnah." The hilarity of the Christmas greeting 
 at midnight was now dead. " We's gwine hab dinnah 
 good an' early, an' gib de darkeys a chance; yes, sah. 
 An' 'tis gwine be a dinnah sho, blue p'ints, an' 
 tukkey stuffed chock-a-block wid iystahs, an* Say, 
 boss, you bettah hab some iystahs now, an' a cup o' 
 coffee an' a roll. Save yo' appetite. 
 
 " Too late fer chu'ch," he warned, as Jenifer pushed 
 back his chair. 
 
 So he was, but he thought to try the streets whose 
 glitter had fascinated him. He walked to the familiar 
 corner desolation ! Glittering strands and broken 
 baubles! Holly trodden underfoot, bruised pine and 
 spruce! His room was Jenifer's only refuge. 
 
 There he took to what he seldom did reading the 
 morning's papers. But the men who shaped the stuff 
 the printers set in type were like the rest of the world. 
 They had blown the bubble from their draught, and 
 now the cup was stale. 
 
 Jenifer turned at last in sheer weariness to the ad- 
 33
 
 34 Jenifer 
 
 vertisements, well spaced items of local stores, terse 
 sentences of lesser matters, and that column of tempta- 
 tions which sets the reader dreaming of acres and 
 houses and the thrill of land possession. 
 
 Down it he went with genuine interest and hit upon 
 an item that meant nothing to him till at the end he 
 came upon a name. Then he sprang to his feet, dashed 
 the paper from him, and strode up and down the room. 
 He stooped for the sheet, re-read it and flung it again 
 from him, and again took up his uncertain march. 
 The face reflected in the long glass was white, the gray 
 eyes blazing, the straight figure tenuous. His strong 
 hands were clenched in his pockets. 
 
 It was possible, that was his first thought. It 
 should be, and instantly. Then Jenifer was running 
 down the stair, out to that office on which no occasion 
 shuts the door and from which his message clicked. 
 
 It might be holiday but he would not wait. It was 
 feast-day but he would find his man. The message 
 sent, Jenifer was off tramping the streets where life 
 hummed yesterday and to-day scarce a wagon rolled, 
 till the time for a possible answer should have passed. 
 When he came back he was white for fear the thing 
 he, in one swift second, had set his whole heart on was 
 not possible, or, what would have then been worse, 
 that waiting was before him. But the clerk held out 
 a strip. 
 
 The written scrawl trembled in Jenifer's fingers, 
 blurring before him. The clerk, idle and good-natured, 
 and necessarily a confidant, laughed at his fear. 
 " You've got it all right," he said carelessly.
 
 Jenifer 35 
 
 " Yes." Jenifer's lips were stiff, his voice hoarse. 
 
 " Sort of a Christmas present ? " 
 
 Jenifer looked down at him, startled at the question. 
 He had never had a Christmas present. " Yes," 
 his voice easier, "a Christmas gift. To myself," he 
 added when he was on the street. 
 
 His ! The old place, the columned porch with floor 
 of patterned brick where mosses peeped; the marble 
 steps and wide high hall; the stair with stately curve; 
 the great rooms and deep hearths; the yard; the flower 
 bordered garden; the arcaded quarters; the roll of 
 hills and slope of fields and running stceams; the vision 
 of mountains crowding close; his! And beyond the 
 wood which bordered them was the cabin in which he 
 had been born.
 
 THE wind that night changed suddenly. By mid- 
 night it was singing down the streets, and dawn was 
 brilliantly cold. Jenifer, fresh from hot countries, felt 
 as if he were freezing. He was wearing before dark a 
 heavy coat with collar turned up about his ears and 
 soft black hat pulled down to meet his collar. His 
 finger tips were stiff. 
 
 " I shall have to buy a pair of gloves," he said to 
 himself as he shivered on the street. He laughed at the 
 idea, but turned into a department store whose glitter- 
 ing windows were by his side. 
 
 The suavity of the floor-walker who met him was 
 bewildering. "Gloves, sir; certainly, sir. This way! 
 Miss Alice, show this gentleman some gloves. Walking ? 
 Driving ? " as Jenifer stood red and dumb. " She will 
 find whatever you want." Jenifer was left grasping 
 at a counter across which a young woman gazed at him 
 from beneath bewildering fluffs of hair; and down and 
 away and across, women and lights, lights and women. 
 
 The girl looked at him curiously, then at the brown 
 hand gripping the counter's edge. " Eights, I think 
 will fit," she declared, turning for the boxes. 
 
 At the voice Jenifer started. He was startled into 
 observation of the face before him. The high piled 
 36
 
 Jenifer 37 
 
 hair and the big blue eyes were those of the young 
 woman who had shared his carnival fun; but the color 
 was gone out of her cheeks, and her eyes were, or had 
 been, listless. 
 
 " You had better sit down," she said, laughing at his 
 surprise. " I can fit you better. So ! " She measured 
 his knuckles deftly, each touch of her fingers signalling 
 fresh confusion in Jenifer's mind, and before the young 
 man, bewildered by soft pats upon his hardened hands, 
 had an idea of what she meant to do, she was slipping 
 the gloves upon his fingers. 
 
 His stammering protest passed unheeded. The 
 young woman was enjoying his confusion, and the 
 admiration in his astonished eyes was like wine. The 
 other clerks had drawn away, whispering and laughing. 
 
 She put a glove upon one of his hands, that were 
 suddenly hot, snapped it at the wrist, and then leaned, 
 talking to him familiarly as the cash-box slid along its 
 little rail. 
 
 " That certainly was a good time we had the other 
 night," she said, pushing the box before her about the 
 shining counter. " Best time I ever had in my life. 
 But I am certainly tired now." 
 
 The man's quick sympathy was stirred. The white 
 cheeks and the lines about the young woman's mouth 
 bespoke the truthfulness of her complaint; and she 
 said nothing of the late dance of the night before, which 
 had sapped the strength that might have gone to the 
 work of the day. 
 
 " What time is it ? Time to be closing, thank good- 
 ness. But I might have known it," she added with a
 
 38 Jenifer 
 
 laugh and a significant look from a figure loitering by 
 the door to the young woman nearest her. " Here's 
 your change." 
 
 Jenifer saw a man sauntering up and down the street, 
 and, in idleness, took to watching him. In a quarter 
 of an hour the clerks were pouring out of the stores. 
 Back in a corner by a window the man whom Jenifer 
 watched waited till a red plume waved across the crowd, 
 and the man's hat was soon beside it. 
 
 Jenifer understood and was laughing at the knowledge, 
 when a voice spoke in his ear. It said only " Good 
 evening," but its demureness was dangerous. Before 
 she spoke Alice had detached herself from a girl who 
 clung to her, and she made it appear that the surge of 
 the crowd had drifted her beside him. 
 
 " Looks like the other night," she said with a laugh. 
 
 " It certainly does. Only there is not so much fun. 
 Are you going home ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'll be glad when I get there," with a quick 
 droop of her fair head. 
 
 " Which is your car ? " asked Jenifer suddenly. 
 He thought the tired woman had best hasten. 
 
 " This," said Alice shortly, pushing forward. 
 
 " Let me put you on it." 
 
 Jenifer easily made way for her. She felt his strong 
 hand under her elbow, lifting her up; but if she looked 
 for anything more she was disappointed. The crowded 
 car was off, and Jenifer was not aboard. 
 
 But it happened that he was at that corner the next 
 evening. The closing of the shops was a new phase to 
 him. The crowd that thronged che streets all day was
 
 Jenifer 39 
 
 gone. In its stead were tired women and hurrying 
 men and shrill, pathetic children. The white arc lights 
 made their faces wan; the shadows of the wires swayed 
 across the narrow street; high up the windows blazed; 
 and the stars in that slip of heaven above the brick 
 paled before the flashing lights. The things they stand 
 for might have been forgotten; steadfastness and hope 
 and eternity seemed impossible; strife and rush and 
 press, reality. 
 
 Jenifer was aware only of the friendly jostling, the 
 street calls, and the keen air which made haste impera- 
 tive. A newsboy pressed against him; a white-faced, 
 hoarse-voiced boy sheltered a stand of red carnations 
 with a tired arm; the crowd jammed closer; and some 
 one, with a voice which hinted of laughter, spoke at 
 his side. 
 
 Jenifer had not waited for it, but his pleasure was 
 distinct. " Big crowd, isn't it ? " he asked lightly, as 
 he looked back at Alice Mason's face. 
 
 " Yes, I don't see how I am to make the car." She 
 pouted alluringly as she spoke. 
 
 " Oh, that is easy enough." Jenifer started to clear 
 a way. 
 
 " I am not in such an awful hurry. That car is full 
 already. I'm going to wait for the next. I don't want 
 to stand up, heaven knows. I have had enough of that 
 all day." 
 
 Jenifer's eyes darkened with pity. His face was 
 keen and kind, and the girl, with a quick glance to see 
 that none heard, spoke graphically of her trials. Few 
 men listen to such sentences untouched. They know
 
 4O Jenifer 
 
 and see the signs of physical frailty. Pit that inequality 
 against man's strength, and will alone enables the 
 woman to brave it. Jenifer saw the drooping mouth 
 and the white cheeks the wind had but begun to beat 
 a glow upon, and felt half- ashamed of his magnificent 
 un tiredness. 
 
 The boy with his flowers had pressed nearer, and 
 the smell of them stole up to Alice as he talked. " How 
 pretty they are, and sweet ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 Jenifer turned. A little sheaf of red nodded over the 
 side of the brown jar. 
 
 " You love flowers ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 The girl, seeing what was coming, nodded delightedly. 
 
 When she got in the car and walked up the aisle, 
 carrying the sheaf proudly on her arm, a fellow worker 
 mischievously hummed a bar beneath her breath. It 
 was one to which many, happy, afraid, or merely curious, 
 have listened, and to which children have set simple 
 words. The first of these are : " Here comes the 
 bride." 
 
 Color flared suddenly in Alice's cheeks. She gazed 
 steadily out into the night. Her blue eyes were hard 
 and her breath quick, as she thought. 
 
 When Jenifer helped her again on the car she slipped 
 a card into his hand. " Gome and see me sometime," 
 she said; and Jenifer, used to the easy way of folk 
 who have always known one another, was delighted 
 with what he thought a show of friendliness amidst 
 the repelling reserve of a big city. 
 
 He waited a day or two before he went, and some 
 feeling kept him away from that crowded corner. Then,
 
 Jenifer 41 
 
 too, he had found other things to interest him. The 
 wires had settled his purchase, but letters had been 
 necessary and their tenor had unfolded to him possi- 
 bilities sufficient for every thought. 
 
 It never occurred to Jenifer to go himself to settle 
 the affair, though a scant hundred and sixty miles in- 
 tervened. But there are people, and some of them the 
 strongest, who could not give a motive for their deeds 
 and yet live wisely. It may be that the inner leading 
 of a pure and wholesome mind is better than analy- 
 sis. 
 
 The old estate which Jenifer had bought had come 
 down into the hands of a child who was an orphan; 
 and the one regard of his caretakers seemed to be to 
 settle a lump sum on the boy. That meant that Jenifer 
 had bought not only houses and acres, but all the build- 
 ings held. Who cared for musty books and tarnished 
 brass and peeling veneer and dim portraits ? Not 
 they! Nor did Jenifer, at first. He was wondering 
 what he should do with them. 
 
 Besides, the air had softened, the sky thickened 
 and darkened till clouds rolled from rim to rim; and 
 their fleeciness had compressed to hard gray folds 
 without a shadow between. Sitting in his room and 
 half-asleep, Jenifer heard the hissing of the snow as it 
 struck that night upon his window-pane. 
 
 In the morning the wires swayed beneath its weight. 
 Cornices and window-frames were crowded with white 
 featheriness which clung to the walls like hoary eyebrows 
 upon a man's dark face; and from wall to wall the way 
 lay white. Ben was ready with advice.
 
 42 Jenifer 
 
 " Boss," he said, as he hovered around Jenifer at 
 his small table in the far corner, " dis is de day fer a 
 sleigh-ride sho." 
 
 Jenifer's gray eyes, which showed often blue or black, 
 according to his mood, looked suddenly blue with a 
 glint of amusement at Ben's enthusiasm. 
 
 " You nebbah did see nothin' like it, de way 'twill 
 look out in de park dis mornin'. I used to dribe myse'f, 
 an' I knows. An' dat's de thing I likes to do, but seem 
 like Well, I'm a-tryin' my han' at dis now. A sleigh- 
 ride," the negro added slyly, " it suttenly do cos' a 
 lot." 
 
 " How much ? " Jenifer looked up to ask carelessly. 
 
 Ben stood still and straight, a cover in his hands; 
 his big eyes were black and fathomless. " Ten dollahs 
 an hour, sah," he declared impressively. Suddenly his 
 eyes flashed; his big mouth opened for a wide grin. 
 " Gwine to try it ? You is ? I knows de very hosses 
 you wants. Jes let me git 'em. Ten o'clock ? All 
 right, sah. I'll hab a little time off 'bout den." 
 
 Ben took time to bring up the team himself, 
 prancing horses and jingling bells and black buffalo 
 robes, and before them the long line of the snow- 
 filled street. He stood knee-deep in the drift beside 
 the curb. 
 
 " Lawd, but I envies you," he said wistfully. 
 
 " Want to go ? " asked Jenifer lightly, as he folded 
 the robes about his knees. 
 
 " Want to ? Say, boss, does you know how to 
 dribe ? " 
 
 Jenifer threw back his head and laughed. Poor as he
 
 Jenifer 43 
 
 had been born and bred in a crowd, he had yet learned 
 a horse and his ways as he had learned to breathe. 
 He handled the reins lovingly in his strong fingers. 
 
 " I see you does. But many a gemman jes takes a 
 niggah 'long fer looks. An' you looks fine," wheedled 
 Ben. 
 
 " Can you get off? " Jenifer hesitated. 
 
 " Good Gawd, boss, what's to stop me ? Ef dat man " 
 nodding to the hotel behind him " gits mad, an' I 
 loses my job, can't I git anuddah ? An' I can't git a 
 sleigh-ride ebry day. You think I'm gwine ax anybody 
 wheddah I can go or not ? " 
 
 " Here, hold the horses a minute." Jenifer sprang 
 out, ran into the office, and in a second was back again. 
 " Jump in," he said shortly; and the horses, impatient 
 of restraint, were off. 
 
 Ben's enthusiasm struck a spark from Jenifer's 
 calm acceptance. The negro knew furred drivers and 
 racing horses, and it was his bubbling talk of them 
 which made Jenifer say, with a diffidence which denied 
 a trace of the braggart, " I have a place of my own 
 up in the country." 
 
 " Farm ? Good Gawd, boss, you don't say so ? " 
 
 " Good place for horses, too," added Jenifer. 
 
 " Does you raise 'em ? Is you gwine try 'em up 
 dyar ? " 
 
 Jenifer was looking straight before him. Cedar 
 and spruce stood black against the hill; a lake sparkled 
 at his side; and over it rang loudly the music of his 
 bells. 
 
 " Is you gwine lib dyar ? " the negro insisted.
 
 44 Jenifer 
 
 He asked the questions which had slumbered under 
 the surface of Jenifer's careless heyday. " I think so; 
 some day," he answered slowly. 
 
 Ben leaned to peer into Jenifer's face. The young 
 man's eyes were dark and narrow. The few careless 
 words he had spoken had called a flush to his face 
 redder than that which the cold had fanned upon his 
 cheek. Yes, he said to himself, he would do it. " Live 
 there ! live there ! " the horses' hoofs beat it, the runners 
 sang it, and, as they topped the hill and the roll of land 
 was before them, Jenifer felt as if all the world were 
 his. 
 
 He raised himself and shouted to the horses as they 
 raced the slope; and Ben's laugh was louder than 
 Jenifer's voice. 
 
 Still the negro was not done with that matter of farm 
 and horses. " Boss," he asked, when time and distance 
 had sobered them, " don't you want a niggah on dat 
 place ? Dyar's plenty dyar, I know ; but don't you 
 want me ? " 
 
 Jenifer shifted the reins and turned to look the negro 
 squarely in the eyes. " Ever live in the country ? " he 
 asked succinctly. 
 
 " Bohn dyar." 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " 
 
 " Oh, I got erway somehow. I Ise twice as good 
 erroun' a stable as I is anywhars else." 
 
 " What did you leave it for then ? " 
 
 " Well, me an' de man I wukked fer, we fell out." 
 Ben fidgeted. " Wanted me to hitch up a hoss some 
 man had been dribin' half a day, an' de hoss still pantin*.
 
 Jenifer 45 
 
 I wouldn't do it. An' so an' so I jes took up the 
 nex* thing what come handy." 
 
 " There's nobody on the place now," said Jenifer 
 reflectively. 
 
 " How much Ian' is in it ? " 
 
 " Six hundred acres." 
 
 " An' houses, too ? " 
 
 " Of course ! " Jenifer was impatient at unwarranted 
 questioning. 
 
 " All shet up ? Now ain't dat a shame ! An* dyar's 
 some people hyar, an' I knows 'em, dat don't know 
 whar dey'll sleep when night comes erroun'." 
 
 " I can't help that." Jenifer was tired of the talk. 
 He flicked the lagging nag to keep her up with the 
 leader. 
 
 " Yes, you can." Ben was in clear good-nature. 
 " You can take one niggah out dis town. An' you's 
 gwine do it, 'long 'bout spring-time now ? " 
 
 Jenifer's laugh carried all the assurance Ben needed.
 
 VI 
 
 As it happened Jenifer relieved the city's population 
 of another; even of a third. 
 
 The second was due to Ben's bragging. 
 
 Jenifer had foregathered in the lobby and on the 
 street corners with a young man whose attraction lay 
 in a surface good-fellowship and a caustic knowledge 
 of the city's ways. It was this man to whom Ben's 
 bragging spread. 
 
 He approached Jenifer with some careless reference 
 to the negro's talk, but Jenifer's reticence held his 
 questioner at bay. Still the stranger was interested; 
 and it is hard for a man who does not know how to 
 lie to fend. If Jenifer had one gift beyond all others 
 it was truth-telling. The emblazonment and broidery 
 of speech were impossible to him, but, once cornered, 
 once made to talk he did so with such clearness and 
 distinctness of term and expression that the words 
 formed for the hearer a sunlit picture and he saw the 
 thing of which Jenifer talked; but Jenifer was too 
 young and too unknowing to use his taciturn habit as 
 a shield to guard himself. 
 
 When the young man he was an illustrator on 
 one of the city dailies, and a maker of sketches some- 
 times better than those his sheet desired had finally 
 46
 
 Jenifer 47 
 
 found out all he wanted to know and understood more 
 than did Jenifer himself he startled the visitor. 
 
 " Jenifer," he said, " you will want that old place 
 fixed up. You want it done right. Of course you do." 
 
 Jenifer was in the lobby lounging against one of 
 the pillars. He squared his shoulders in his surprise. 
 Merely to own it and to live in it that old place 
 had seemed enough. 
 
 " Man," added the artist querulously, " you've got 
 a chance not one in a thousand gets. You don't deserve 
 it." 
 
 Jenifer had not asked himself if he did. He had it ; 
 that was sufficient. 
 
 " Many a man would be crazy over such an oppor- 
 tunity. This historic old place It is historic ? " 
 
 His listener's mind whirled with a sudden recollec- 
 tion of its legends. They had been forgotten till 
 now. 
 
 " Just so. To remember its past, to bring the 
 place into shape, into keeping with its present I'd 
 like to do it." The artist spoke carelessly, but his 
 glance at Jenifer was keen. 
 
 " Tell you what it is, Jenifer," he went on in quick 
 undertone, " I'm sick of it, all this, what you have 
 seen, and now God ! You don't know the begin- 
 ning. I feel Sometimes another day of it seems 
 impossible. There is something, a dream, a fantasy, 
 call it what you please, something I am crazed to be 
 about, to try. It would count, if I could. I know it. 
 And I am bound to this cursed work. It bleeds me 
 of every minute. I've got to keep at it for bread."
 
 48 Jenifer 
 
 Wheatham brought his heel down sharply on the 
 marble floor. His forehead was furrowed and the 
 sweat stood thick on it. " If I could get away, cut 
 loose, make enough to live on while I could could 
 work at that God ! for time ! And every day it 
 seems to fade from me because I can't begin on it; 
 to grow dim. Some day it will be gone." It was early, 
 no one else in the lobby, and Wheatham was strid- 
 ing up and down the floor. Jenifer caught but a 
 word now and then. " And I I shall be use- 
 less. I shall never get the grip of it again or of any- 
 thing." 
 
 Jenifer caught him by the arm, linked his own through 
 it, though Jenifer's height made his leaning towards 
 the other seem absurd. " Come up to my room and 
 talk it over," he said. 
 
 As a result the artist, a week later, was on his way 
 towards the mountains. Snow-drifts and red clay 
 might well have dampened his ardor, but on his return 
 he had enough to fire his speech. He should have 
 talked of the house which he had gone to consider, 
 but the mountain tops, the haze upon their whiteness, 
 and their majestic sweep were his refrain. 
 
 " Beautiful old stairway, and from the landing " 
 Wheatham shook his head. He could not describe it, 
 that wide window and the world beyond it. " Miles 
 of misty hills, as if the great folds of them were wrinkled 
 against the sky," he added dreamily. 
 
 Wheatham had fallen into the habit of haunting 
 Jenifer's room, and there, as they sat, both smoked 
 generally, he talked incessantly. The man had kept
 
 Jenifer 49 
 
 the better part of himself cramped so long that now, as 
 it pushed forth from repression, it swept him from his 
 caustic self-control. 
 
 Jenifer listened with scarce a word to interrupt. 
 Now and then his eyes darkened, or the lines were 
 tense about his mouth; and in his silence and his apti- 
 tude for quick decision the artist began to recognize a 
 strength. 
 
 " Man," Wheatham threw in, staccato fashion, " it 
 must be something to sit by the blazing fire there on 
 a winter's night, and hear the wind howling across 
 those hills, and searching one's soul. A man must be 
 satisfied with himself at peace with himself or 
 he could not face it out. Lord, it needs a crowd and 
 noise to make one forget his nothingness. If ever it 
 were proven that the majority of great men were country 
 bred, it would be that that What is it ? that being 
 face to face with the knowledge of the thing you ought 
 to be." 
 
 Wheatham knew what he was talking about. The 
 night he camped in that disused house and built his 
 fire he could not have endured it but for that dream 
 of creation in his soul and the divine hope of mounting 
 higher than his plodding had yet admitted. The dream 
 he held warm pricked now at the fine web of fret and 
 work which had enmeshed it; and he could see, here 
 in this room, patterned like a hundred of its kind and 
 stiff and unbeautiful, the place in those hills where he 
 would house himself, and live and wait and dream, 
 with the sun on the peaks and the haze in the hollows, 
 for inspiration; and work slowly and as he chose, till,
 
 $o Jenifer 
 
 little by little, the thought born of his best should grow 
 and be perfected. 
 
 In Jenifer's mind the wonder of possession grew, 
 and the passion of it. 
 
 Their talk beat always about the old house amongst 
 the hills. " Tell you what, Jenifer," exclaimed 
 Wheatham abruptly, " you don't want any new stuff 
 in that house. You are to leave it to me, if I under- 
 stand the bargain." But Wheatham flushed. The 
 compact had been of his own making. He had not 
 forgotten that he had fairly forced it upon Jenifer. 
 " You are going to leave it to me ? " 
 
 " Of course. That is the bargain." 
 
 Wheatham flung himself across a chair, his arms on 
 the straight back, his face thrust forward eagerly. 
 " You have never told me what I could do, or just 
 what you want. How much money are you going to 
 spend on it ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " Jenifer grasped the tangible thought. The 
 evening paper, with one of Wheatham's cartoons star- 
 ing from the page, lay on the table. Jenifer pulled 
 it to him, and began making figures on the margin. 
 He treated his money tree fairly. It was hard and 
 fast in mind that no root of it should be disturbed, 
 nor had they been; and while this present humor of 
 his lasted he wanted plenty for himself. In a second 
 he knew how many dollars of his could go towards 
 this latest whim. It was no fabulous sum, but enough. 
 
 Wheatham laughed, when it was named, from sheer 
 delight at thinking of it, the old home, its possibili- 
 ties, and his the power to bring them out.
 
 Jenifer . 51 
 
 " But out of that must come your own pay," warned 
 Jenifer. 
 
 Wheatham reddened. " I know. It is enough. 
 When do you want it finished ? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 Jenifer clasped his hands behind his head. " I 
 don't know," he answered dreamily. It waited, the 
 thing he most desired; but he was not ready for it. 
 Something intervened. He had no idea what. " Take 
 your own time," he ended lightly. 
 
 Meanwhile there was something in Jenifer's life 
 which Wheatham and Ben alike resented. Few of the 
 evenings found him about the lobby or in his room, 
 and they knew where he had gone ; theatre, supper, 
 often at some place of questionable reputation and 
 always with the same companion. They knew the 
 woman must have instigated such gaieties. The man 
 had not before heard of their existence. 
 
 It had been hard for Jenifer to make up his mind for 
 that first call. He waited a week before he sought 
 out the number on the card Alice had given him and 
 found it. 
 
 The young woman had been first disappointed and 
 then provoked at Jenifer's disappearance. When at 
 her young sister's " A man to see you, and he's a 
 stranger, and he didn't say a word about his name," 
 she powdered and fluffed and elaborated, and came 
 tripping down the narrow stair, her surprise put to 
 flight, for an instant, her pouting; and the admiration, 
 which she was quick to see in Jenifer's eyes, and the 
 wonder with which he listened to her frivolities, appeased 
 her.
 
 $2 Jenifer 
 
 Jenifer thought her marvellous: slender and tall, 
 with fingers and body that never rested, but empha- 
 sized the trip of light words from her tongue How 
 could she talk so easily, say so many words, throw 
 such changes of inflection into her voice, so sway and 
 lean and straighten, and after all say nothing with a 
 gist of meaning ? 
 
 It was wonderful; it was intensely amusing. No 
 glittering play of Eastern beads in swarthy hands ever 
 more surely charmed the gazer. 
 
 Who was to warn him ? Wheatham went the length 
 of finding out what manner of woman Alice Mason 
 was and groaned at the knowledge. The things that 
 could be said against her were only negations, but she 
 was not Jenifer's sort. Still, what was his kind? 
 Wheatham had but a chance acquaintanceship and the 
 knowledge of the charge Jenifer had given him. Yet 
 the far-seeing part of him forbade the union of Jenifer's 
 name with hers, even in thought. 
 
 The negro, too, with that dexterous skill which finds 
 and grasps the personalities of those they serve, rebelled. 
 
 " Boss," he hinted one day, " dyar's some mighty 
 pretty ummuns in dis town." 
 
 Jenifer was fastening his tie before the mirror. He 
 had bought good clothes, it was one of the first things 
 he had attended to, but he wore them carelessly. 
 There was not a trace of the dandy about him. If 
 something of aloofness, of his silent questioning of 
 humanity, of his young, alert, yet calm expectancy 
 had not laid its mark upon him, he would have gone 
 unnoticed.
 
 Jenifer 53 
 
 " Lawd," cried Ben, his fingers itching as he watched 
 Jenifer's carelessness, " you ain't got dat knot eben 
 'spectable. Lemme fix it. Dyar, ef you'll jes let de 
 en's fly out, an' stick a flowah in yo' buttonhole 
 Why don't you now ? " he wheedled. " 'Tis jes de 
 time de pretty girls is out; an' dey's hyar, thick as bees 
 in flowah time, an' as pretty as de blossoms, an' sweet 
 Lawd-ee ! " Ben slipped behind Jenifer, and gave one 
 quick look over the broad shoulder at the young man's 
 reflected face. 
 
 Jenifer was amused, but at Ben. 
 
 " I goes myse'f sometimes 'long whar Ise gwine see 
 'em de mos'. Sech little feet a-trapsin' 'long, an' ruffles 
 peepin' out, an' coat sort o' flung open " Ben, 
 unconsciously, was doing the promenade act to a finish. 
 He flopped out his dingy vest to simulate the dainty 
 blouses. " An' de rosy cheeks an' de bright eyes an' " 
 Ben collapsed. His smirk was too far behind the gay 
 graciousness of expression which he recalled, and he 
 had seen his own face as he pranced by the mirror. 
 
 " I suttenly should try it," he insisted, prolonging 
 the time of his errand unconscionably and desperately 
 anxious to divert Jenifer's interest from the woman 
 who was absorbing it. " Mebbe mebbe you mought 
 scrape a 'quaintance. Dyar's no telling," he added 
 knowingly. 
 
 " But, boss," he warned solemnly, " ef ebbah you 
 tries anything like dat, fetch de right one. I tell you it 
 makes a heap o' diffrunce who a man a man sort o* 
 trots wid. Ebry pair has got to moderate dyar paces 
 to one anuddah to mek things go smooth an' eben; an'
 
 54 Jenifer 
 
 you wants a good pardnah on de uddah side de pole 
 ebry time, wheddah 'tis a spin in de park, or a long 
 trot on de road, or a good long pull fer bus'ness. 
 
 " An' I knows one thing fer sutten," he added re- 
 flectively, " ef I was a hoss an* had my say in de mattah 
 an' a man he has when he's a-hitchin' up I'd look 
 to de p'ints o' de one dey buckled me wid. I would 
 fer a fac', sho." 
 
 Ben's hints were unheeded. Jenifer had not even 
 an idea that his doings were of moment to any one. He 
 thought he was seeing the city in a new light, as he 
 was; that he had an excellent guide, as he had; that 
 there was no way of pleasure more harmless, but he 
 should have asked himself the significance of that final 
 word. 
 
 For if he did not know the way he trended, the woman 
 did. Jenifer took to lounging in at the store to make 
 new appointments, to passing the door with a keen 
 glance inside to see if he could catch sight of her, to 
 waiting on that crowded corner at night, beneath the 
 white arc lights and in the swaying crowd, for a word 
 when Alice started homewards. Once, his horse was 
 at the curb when she hurried by from luncheon. 
 
 Jenifer had taken steadily to driving. That morning 
 the park roads were hard, the sky blue, the air keen. 
 The speed of his horse and the spin of his wheels had 
 exhilarated him. He had come back into the city to 
 drive slowly up the narrow shopping street and to 
 watch the crowd; and he had remembered an errand 
 in a near by shop. 
 
 A street-boy held the reins while Jenifer was out of
 
 Jenifer 55 
 
 sight. The horse stood with arched neck and warm 
 flanks and smoking nostrils; the skin of him was red 
 brown, like old mahogany, the eyes friendly, and he 
 turned as if looking at Alice as she hurried past. 
 
 In a second she stood by him, her bare hand on 
 his slender muzzle. " You beauty," she exclaimed. 
 " I wish you were mine, and I was going all day behind 
 you." She half-whispered it beneath her breath and 
 it was but an idle impulse of the moment, rooted in 
 no real appreciation; but Jenifer came up behind her 
 and heard. 
 
 " Try it," he said, with a laugh, over her shoulder. 
 
 Alice wheeled to face him. " Oh, is it yours ? " 
 
 " No. But there are plenty of others in the stable. 
 I wouldn't take him out again to-day; but if you will 
 go, if you will try one of the others " 
 
 " I ? " bitterly. " I'll be there," with a wave of her 
 hand towards the entrance of the store. 
 
 " You might take a little holiday now and then," 
 Jenifer urged. 
 
 " And lose my job ? " The young woman knew 
 that the blue eyes and fluffed hair held it more than 
 her efficiency. She dared no liberties. 
 
 " Do you expect to stand there," asked Jenifer hotly, 
 " there in one spot not big enough to pace a horse in, 
 where you couldn't even turn one around God ! " 
 Suddenly he saw what such days would mean for him; 
 and he measured her horror by his. " Do you expect 
 to stay there always, all your life ? " 
 
 " I don't know." The girl's lashes were on her 
 cheeks and her cheeks were pink; but her lips trembled.
 
 56 Jenifer 
 
 At that hour few were on the street. The cars clanged 
 past; a boy, not far away, fondled his fading roses' 
 none heeded those two. The boy at the horse's head 
 could not hear their speech. 
 
 " What is the matter ? '* asked Jenifer in quick 
 dismay. " You you are not crying ? " 
 
 Her lashes were not wet ; but they were not uplifted. 
 
 " What is it ? " he repeated impatiently. 
 
 " Nothing only that was one of the men from 
 the store. Did you see him, how he looked at us and 
 laughed ? And he will tell everybody that he saw me 
 talking to you, and and " she stammered. 
 
 Jenifer made one step. It brought him so near that 
 his foot was on the hem of her skirt. " And what ? " 
 he demanded. 
 
 " They tease me to death," she pouted, with a quick 
 glint of blue from under her lashes. 
 
 " Here ! " Jenifer called to the boy, and seized the 
 reins, holding them in one strong hand. The other 
 was on the girl's arm. " Get in," he said steadily. 
 
 Alice tried to pull herself away, and to look at him. 
 But Jenifer's quick glance had told him that she was 
 fully wrapped. Her coat was open, her gloves in her 
 hand, her hat pinned carelessly; but she was protected. 
 
 " Get in," he repeated masterfully, his touch as 
 compelling as his tone. 
 
 Alice was smiling demurely as the robes were tucked 
 about her and the horse was dashing, twisting between 
 the wagons, up the street. 
 
 Jenifer came in his room at dusk. His eyes were
 
 Jenifer 57 
 
 dark and shining, his face flushed. Every inch of him 
 was straight and exultant. 
 
 Wheatham sat by the unsteady table, his restless 
 fingers pencilling the outlines of a cartoon, and he 
 was whistling, and breaking the tune with laughter 
 as he worked. 
 
 " Hello ! " He sat up straight at the slam of the 
 door, and his eyes, filled with the film of fancy, bright- 
 ened and widened as he looked. 
 
 Jenifer stood with his back against the door, its dark 
 panels making a background for his lithe figure, his 
 reddened cheeks, his glowing eyes. 
 
 " Tom," he said to the other man slowly, " Tom, 
 I'm married."
 
 VII 
 
 WHEATHAM looked down the listed licenses in the 
 morning. He saw their names : " Alice Mason, aged 
 twenty-six; " and there had not been a day of those 
 last six years when she would not have flung every- 
 thing on the bare chance of escaping the grind into 
 which she had fallen when she had first pinned a black 
 apron about her thin, pathetic, childish self and hurried 
 up and down the store's aisles at the command of 
 any clerk. 
 
 The groom's age was twenty-three. 
 
 But whether Jenifer had made or marred he was 
 out of sight of Wheatham's silent questioning in a 
 day or two. He had gone to the city of adventurers. 
 Wheatham was to start soon for the mountains, Ben 
 with him. The lawyer whose skill had effected the 
 sale of the acres was to advise in Wheatham's bar- 
 gaining for the tilling of the fields ; in all else the artist 
 was to have free hand. The business was simple and 
 easily arranged. 
 
 New York, with the new wife's pointing, proved 
 the gateway of Europe. The manner of their journey- 
 ing there was curious. For her, the fervid heart of every 
 city; for him, its quaint or curious places. For her, 
 the hard-trodden, crowd-pressed road; for him, the
 
 Jenifer 59 
 
 unknown path, the unguessed byway. Jenifer, some- 
 how, even in his ignorance, found these out. 
 
 They were both too newly from the poor to feel in 
 old lands and ancient capitals that Jenifer's slender 
 wealth was less than luxury; or that there was any 
 need in any part of the earth for those conventions 
 they had not grasped. 
 
 If Jenifer, with that strange sense for searching 
 out things at first hand, wished to tramp English lanes, 
 through fields where the grain rolled like a green sea 
 to break against the highway or by cherry orchards, 
 white and fragrant, or along roads where the black- 
 berry spread pink-tinged blossoms, what hindered 
 Alice's open delight in shops and lounging places of 
 London ? Neither found it strange that they were 
 willing so soon to be parted. 
 
 Thus it came that Jenifer learned the Frenchman's 
 way of harvest; Alice, his methods of millinery. Jenifer 
 noticed the quiet homes and thrifty ways, and felt the 
 charm of low cottages and circling doves and barefoot 
 children; she, the allurement of cafes and drives and 
 theatre-halls. 
 
 Jenifer's mind, as he journeyed, was filled with 
 compassion. That man should work and delve and 
 live for generations in such narrow compass with such 
 small meed of comfort ! That earth's bare soil should 
 anywhere be a treasure for men to bear upon their 
 backs and pack between the rocks to set their seedlings 
 in! The thought of his own lands grew strong and 
 warm. He planned what he should do when he went 
 back to them and what hints of old world wisdom he
 
 60 Jenifer 
 
 would seize upon. But he was not ready to return. 
 He was greedy to see how this round world, whose 
 image spun upon its axis in the school where he had been 
 taught, bore mountain and field and meadow and 
 still stream and rushing river and blue sea, and how 
 people alien to one another, divided by custom, speech, 
 race history, are yet alike in all significant things of 
 life. 
 
 From England Jenifer sent home a string of horses, 
 sheep, whose breed, mingled with that of the county's 
 kind, would make strong flocks for the mountainsides, 
 and cattle, short horned and deep chested; and he sent 
 in charge of them an Englishman whose skill with 
 stock would be of use. Wheatham was begged to 
 stay on, though his work on the house was done. 
 
 It was in Paris that Alice, fresh from a glittering 
 shop and with eyes dazzled by brilliant beauty, com- 
 plained : " You have never given me a wedding 
 present." 
 
 Jenifer was looking from the window. A man in the 
 street below was beating his horse mercilessly, and 
 Jenifer was furious. He knew scarce a word of the 
 language, and should he do what he longed to do, the 
 street crowd might be startled. He scarcely heard 
 what Alice said. 
 
 "Haven't I?" he asked absently; Alice thought, 
 carelessly. 
 
 " No, you have not; and I want it now." 
 
 Jenifer turned to look at her with tolerant good 
 humor. " It's too late," he declared, a gleam of laughter 
 at her vexation in his eyes.
 
 Jenifer 61 
 
 " It's never too late to do what has not been done 
 at all." 
 
 " Alice," he teased, " you are spoiled." 
 
 She flirted away, but threw him a glance over her 
 shoulder. Of course she was spoiled. This existence 
 was as delightful to her as a dream. 
 
 " I always intended to give you something by which 
 you might remember that is, if you need it," he added 
 with a lazy laugh, looking straight at her, her supple 
 figure and lace gown, her head and slender neck. 
 
 " I will do so now," he said slowly. 
 
 " What what will it be ? " Alice clasped her hands 
 tightly, and leaned forward coaxingly. 
 
 Jenifer laughed at the flash of eagerness. " I will 
 tell you to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow ! That is too long to wait." 
 
 " You will have to endure it." He came a step 
 nearer. The red on her cheeks and the flash in her 
 eyes brightened a face that had begun to be a trifle 
 listless. " You are no such baby." 
 
 " I ? " She rarely remembered she was the elder. 
 Jenifer's gravity and masterful manner levelled the 
 years between. Now she resented the remembrance 
 and whirled away petulantly from the room. 
 
 Still, her soul was possessed with wonder as to what 
 the gift would be. She recalled the baubles she had 
 most openly longed for, weighing her desire for each. 
 She remembered the things of which she had not spoken, 
 but at which she had gazed longingly, till fretful waiting 
 was maddening to her. 
 
 But the gift was not received. Jenifer fussed over
 
 62 Jenifer 
 
 " A dog-gone country where they don't know how to do 
 anything ; " and Alice, always in awe of his taciturnity, 
 would not question. Yet as she waited, the greatness 
 of the thing she was to receive grew in her mind, and 
 it wore always one guise, the sparkle of rich jewelry. 
 She had begun to doubt only its setting and its hue. 
 
 Then Jenifer came in one day at dusk, and a glance 
 at his cleared face reassured her. She sprang from the 
 sofa where, in spite of her beruffled gown, she had 
 been lounging, and ran up to him. 
 
 " You have it ? " she cried, her hands clasped on 
 his arm. Tall as she was, her head reached but beyond 
 his shoulder. " You have it ? " 
 
 Jenifer's laugh and the delight in his eyes answered 
 her. " What is it ? " with impatient running of her 
 hand across his breast to see which pocket bulged the 
 widest. 
 
 " Here 1 " He unbuttoned his coat, and took from 
 an inner pocket a stiff and red-sealed paper. " Wait ! " 
 The thrill in his voice kept her still. " Wait till I get a 
 light. No," though his hand crept out to hers, as she 
 pushed against the table and the heavy perfume of 
 her hair and garments was in his face, while, with slow 
 deliberate movements which set her aquiver with im- 
 patience, his free hand lighted the wick and flared up 
 the lamp. 
 
 " Now," he cried exultantly, as he flung the stiff 
 folded paper down on the table before her. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Alice weakly. 
 
 " Look ! " He leaned above her, ready to laugh 
 when he saw her delight.
 
 Jenifer 63 
 
 Alice picked up the parchment gingerly, as if afraid 
 to touch even with her finger-tips its red seals. 
 
 " Open it. Don't be afraid." 
 
 She took no hint from the thrill in Jenifer's voice. 
 She was cold with fury at this this cheat. What 
 did she want with documents ? Jewels to glitter as 
 they ran through her fingers, to sparkle beneath the 
 light, to gleam upon her breast, those she wished. 
 
 " Read it." Jenifer's voice grew a shade impatient. 
 
 Her fingers fumbled with the folds and her intelligence 
 gleaned slowly from the verbiage a meaning. " What 
 is this ? I don't understand," she vowed hotly. 
 
 " Read it again. See for yourself." Jenifer's voice 
 was again teasing. He was so sure of her joy, when 
 once she understood. 
 
 " It says The idea ! You haven't done that ? 
 You haven't given me I don't want it. What made 
 you think of it ? It would be mine anyway part of 
 it," she flung out with brutal plainness. 
 
 " Alice," Jenifer's face was as white as the marble 
 beneath his hand, "I I always thought a woman 
 should own a home. I have given you the house and 
 quarters on The Place and all they hold. This deed 
 makes them yours," he added proudly. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " She flung the parchment from her. 
 The stiff paper whizzed across the table, cutting at his 
 finger-tips, and fell at his feet. 
 
 Somehow Jenifer had learned or had he inherited 
 the idea ? that the only thing to do with an angry 
 woman is to leave her alone. He had offered her a 
 share in what he considered the most precious possession
 
 64 Jenifer 
 
 of the world, and thus she valued it. He turned from 
 her angry eyes and the tongue that soon would have 
 found words aplenty, and went out of the room and 
 away from the house. 
 
 He was sufficient to himself, too much so for the peace 
 of the shallow woman he had married; and he could 
 always find his own quiet amusements. When he 
 came back the lamp was darkened, Alice asleep, the 
 paper gone. 
 
 It was from this, or, perhaps, because they had 
 been too long away and the flotsam and jetsam of Con- 
 tinental ideas had touched her; or, it may be, because 
 Alice had become too used to her pleasures and looked 
 abroad to add to them, but from this fit of temper a 
 change crept into her manner. 
 
 She was no longer so unconscious that the look of a 
 man who passed her in the street was unnoticed, nor so 
 clearly pleased at some open-air cafe that the pleasure 
 was an absorption, nor so enwrapped by the glitter of 
 a window-show that the loiterer watching her passed 
 on. It was long before Jenifer did, or could, take notice 
 of it, for these things were too foreign to his ideas of 
 womankind. When he did 
 
 They were in Berlin. The man was an officer. 
 Jenifer had noticed him as they drove under the arched 
 lindens to watch the throng of walk and drive. The 
 fellow stood well out near the curb, and there was 
 something in his well set-up figure and in his blondness 
 which overshadowed even his self-conscious look. 
 
 Jenifer looked at the man because he was a pleasant 
 sight and he had already noticed his glitter and gilt
 
 Jenifer 65 
 
 across from them at a restaurant. There was some 
 thing in the German's regard which Jenifer termed 
 insolence and attributed to notice of their strangeness 
 to the customs of the country. A week later Jenifer 
 saw him talking to Alice on a bench far back from the 
 drive. 
 
 Jenifer's wife sat very still, with lowered lashes and 
 pleased lips. She trailed the point of her parasol through 
 the grasses at her feet. Jenifer, behind a swift horse, 
 saw, and drove on. He would make no show where 
 the world could see. 
 
 Half a mile ahead he turned a loop of the drive and 
 came home another way. He sought the services of 
 man and maid in the house where he lodged; and if 
 the morning were fine and his wife late from her walk, 
 it gave him the more time. 
 
 When Alice came in with flushed cheeks and bright- 
 ened eyes, she opened the door upon rooms stripped of 
 the things that were hers and Jenifer's. A strapped 
 trunk stood in the middle of the floor and through the 
 door beyond she could see others. 
 
 " What is this ? What is the matter ? " she gasped. 
 
 Jenifer was taciturn, but there were times when he 
 spoke straight to the purpose. " We are going home," 
 he said briefly. 
 
 " Home ! When ? " The words choked her. She 
 grasped at the knob of the door which she had closed 
 behind her. 
 
 " Now," briefly, and most matter-of-fact. " We have 
 time for luncheon first," he added calmly. 
 
 " I can't. I can't do it. I won't. We were to go to
 
 66 Jenifer 
 
 Paris again. You said we would. I wanted Who 
 put my clothes in those trunks ? Who dared to touch 
 them?" 
 
 At her shrilling Jenifer looked up. He was so clearly 
 and genuinely amused that the words died in her 
 throat. " I have nothing to travel in," she added help- 
 lessly. 
 
 His glance swept her. " Your dress is charming," 
 he assured her; and if his tone held a tinge of sarcasm 
 he spoke truth. Alice, catching sight of herself in the 
 mirror which reflected the dark door, her slender figure 
 and angry, frightened face against it, was not too furious 
 to feel a thrill of pleased vanity. The high head and 
 angry eyes and blazing cheeks were prettier far than 
 dull pallor. She flirted out of the room. 
 
 "You cannot get a berth," she declared angrily on 
 the stair. 
 
 " A ship sails from Amsterdam to-morrow. I have 
 telegraphed." 
 
 "You know it will be impossible for us to engage 
 passage now." 
 
 " We might," said Jenifer lightly. " We might be 
 successful; come on. We have just time for luncheon." 
 Alice leaned against the banister; and he, tall and 
 straight-hipped and with determined eyes, towered 
 above her. " This time of the year we might get a 
 berth," he again assured her; and he was right. The 
 second morning found them on the Atlantic. 
 
 When they neared New York, for which Alice longed, 
 the thought of the city was hateful to Jenifer. He had 
 gazed his full at other lands and longed passionately
 
 Jenifer 67 
 
 for that part of the earth which was his own; and there 
 was no gainsaying his desire. The train swept them 
 with express speed across wide and tide-swept marshes, 
 through towns and cities, across deep rivers, along flat 
 lands where the water was always in sight, across roll- 
 ing and barren country, and up, up to higher hills and 
 bolder slopes. The sun lay brilliant on fields whose 
 breadth and wildness delighted Jenifer, sick of old 
 world trimness. 
 
 It was spring, and the young wheat grew thick in 
 the hollows and thinned upon the swells till the red 
 earth showed through. Cattle strayed over the dried 
 stems of last year's grasses while the new was green 
 beneath their feet. Jenifer, straight in his seat, watching 
 the world through which they sped, felt the blood 
 pounding in his veins. 
 
 Chestnut-trees darkened the steel rails. Through 
 the flickering shadows of the woods flamed the honey- 
 suckle, pink-lipped and tendrilled. Violets stole to the 
 cross-ties, and blue spread the wild forget-me-nots like 
 rugs for prayer, for worshipping of the spring. On 
 the fences, wound in and out, poised the redbird, and 
 flitted the bluebird, and sang the mocking-bird, his 
 song shrilling above the engine's beat and the wheels' 
 steady hum. 
 
 The land tilted higher. Where it crested it showed 
 red against the arch of blue. Deep-cut, the roads 
 wound between the fields and lay upon the hills like 
 ribbons leading brilliantly to the sky. 
 
 Home ! Home ! Far in the hill-folds was the cabin 
 where he had been born ; between the circling mountain
 
 68 Jenifer 
 
 ranges was the house he was to call his own: and the 
 climb grew steeper. 
 
 Trestles with tree-tops below; sharp grades; a run of 
 land newly overgrown by thickets; a dip between red 
 hills; a climb; and a slow breathing at the engine's 
 throat. " We are there," cried Jenifer. Alice was 
 half- asleep. 
 
 When she came out on the platform she was sud- 
 denly alert. The picture pleased, a number of men, 
 a scattered leisurely crowd, an air of ease. 
 
 Jenifer caught sight of the Englishman he had sent 
 on, and Alice saw approaching them a broad-shouldered, 
 sturdy young man whose top-boots and stiff hat and 
 light clothes she did not at once construe into livery. 
 She was astonished at Jenifer's commands. Then 
 she understood. The crimson swept her face. She 
 was come to her own. She saw it in the splendid horses 
 and the shining carriage, and she sprang in and settled 
 back luxuriously. Her face was bright as she pulled 
 her skirts aside to make room for Jenifer; but he did not 
 see the movement. The Englishman had sprung up 
 to the driver's seat, and Jenifer was looking at him. 
 
 " The other side," he commanded briefly; and the 
 reins were in his own hands, the tug of them between 
 his fingers. 
 
 God ! What it was to be alive 1 The town with its 
 lines of lights was behind them. The horses sped like 
 the wind. Jenifer breathed them at a stream, and kept 
 them to a slow pace up the long hill beyond. The air, 
 pure from wide spaces, blew against his cheek. Dogs 
 barked from the wayside huts ; the cattle of the cabins
 
 Jenifer 69 
 
 were straying slowly homeward with low calls of con- 
 tentment and lazy breathings of satisfaction; sturdier 
 houses stood in their screen of trees; the light lay red 
 and clear behind the western mountains; but the miles 
 stretched on. 
 
 The woman on the seat behind Jenifer grasped the 
 cushions by her side, and wondered how far the wild 
 road led ; but she would not ask. 
 
 On by plowed fields, and fields where the sedge 
 sighed low in the evening wind ; splashing through shal- 
 low streams, and up. The evening star stood clear 
 and white in the green breadth of the west; below it, 
 darkened the mountains. How they crowded! On 
 either hand their tops swept far and blue, and, to the 
 woman, desolate. 
 
 There were no houses now, but wide fields and the 
 dim and dark and dusky points of forests running 
 towards the road, and somewhere a night-bird calling. 
 Jenifer curved the horses, with a splendid sweep, into 
 a narrow lane. 
 
 " Here we are ! " he called back gaily. " This is the 
 home road." 
 
 Who could have told Jenifer that he could feel as he 
 did ? And had they, would he have believed ? He 
 could not speak. The scent of the wild-cherry blossoms 
 blew down the lane and the way lay straight. Well 
 that it did for it was all a mist to him. 
 
 Through a wood of oak and chestnut they sped, and 
 out where the way wound to a slow-heaving crest against 
 the sky-line, where the stars were thick; very slowly 
 now, for over that land-swell was The Place.
 
 7O Jenifer 
 
 Suddenly the horses took it with a spurt of speed- 
 Jenifer left them to their way, to the sweep around the 
 orchard, through the big gate, the lights of the 
 house shining brilliantly across the yard, - and along 
 the lane, which circled between the locusts and the lilac 
 hedge and led to the stables, up to the stile. Such had 
 been the fashion of the old road, and the artist had not 
 marred it. 
 
 Wheatham stood on the broad top of the stile waiting 
 for them. Such a night for home-coming ! The beat of 
 the horses' hoofs in the lane, the scent of the lilacs they 
 must pass, the arching locusts, the stars; and far off 
 and dim, like a vision dreamed of, the misty sweep of 
 mountains 1
 
 VIII 
 
 WHEATHAM had left the moss in the crannies of 
 the brick floor of the porch and the narcissus in the 
 grass, the lilac hedges and the old roses of moss and 
 damask, and the flowers by the garden path beyond 
 it was the place of graves, brick-walled and tree- 
 shadowed. The brick arcades from house to kitchen 
 were undisturbed, as were those of the porches before 
 the quarters. 
 
 Inside the house he had thought perfect, he watched 
 its mistress coming slowly down the stair the morning 
 after her arrival. Jenifer was on the porch. 
 
 An hour before Wheatham had been striding with 
 him across the wet grass. Jenifer wanted to know how 
 the sheep he had sent over fared; what colts had been 
 foaled, and what cattle bred; what fields had been 
 planted in corn, and where the wheat grew. He wished 
 to see what sort of housing the range of quarters, back 
 of the yard but opening on it, had provided for the 
 Englishman and the servants and to examine the bachelor 
 quarters Wheatham had set up in one of the houses 
 detached from the range, but built like it. 
 
 Back of all this eagerness was a rapture of possession. 
 Jenifer leaned against a rounded brick pillar of the 
 porch and kept his lips firm shut for fear of the sound
 
 72 Jenifer 
 
 which might break through. It would be elemental; 
 and, being man, Jenifer kept tight-lipped. His breath 
 heaved slowly. His hands were clasped behind his 
 back. 
 
 Wheatham, in the door, saw him and her. 
 
 Alice came down slowly. Her hand was white on 
 the dark rail as it slid along it. At the landing 
 where the filmy curtains were pulled aside, the clear 
 glass raised, and a couch beneath the sill besought a 
 look at that long sweep of blue, she stopped. Her 
 glance scarce touched upon the outside world, and 
 her disdainful look swept the dark panelled walls below, 
 the heavy mahogany couch, the table with its gleaming 
 leaf, the shine of brass and the glint of heavy china. 
 But she caught a gleam upon the wall. " Oh," she 
 cried delightedly, ' ' a telephone ! " 
 
 Wheatham swept her a bow. " Did you think we 
 were cut off from civilization ? " demanded he. 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " It looks it," she said 
 beneath her breath, as she stood on the last step of the 
 stair. 
 
 Resentment and illness had broken the calm pretti- 
 ness of Alice's face. The artist liked her better so. 
 The Frenchy gown of white swirled about her feet and 
 lay, a frill of it, on the polished step ; her fair hair was 
 not so exaggerated by its piling; the touch of purple 
 beneath her eyes emphasized the iris's coloring; and 
 her height was well carried. 
 
 Wheatham, for the hour, was hopeful that he had 
 misjudged her. He crossed the hall to talk to her. 
 He would tell her again of that which must be common
 
 Jenifer 73 
 
 interest, his delightful search for the furniture and 
 his work in having it restored; and he hoped it was 
 as she liked. 
 
 Alice cut him short. She had scarcely listened to 
 him the night before and had kept silent from weariness, 
 and because she had nothing to say. 
 
 " Whom can you talk to ? " she interrupted, with 
 an eager gesture towards the telephone. 
 
 Wheatham pointed to the book which hung upon 
 the wall. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " cried Alice petulantly, as she 
 whirled the leaves. " I don't know a soul, of course. 
 It will do me no good. But Oh, could I could I 
 talk to any one in Baltimore ? " she demanded breath- 
 lessly. At the back she had found a list of cities. 
 
 " It is at your service," Wheatham assured her with 
 twinkling eyes. " New York, Chicago, Atlanta; I am 
 afraid to venture farther," with mock solemnity. 
 
 " I shall try I might talk to some one at home." 
 
 " You had better wait till you have had your break- 
 fast. It's a tedious job getting anybody. Come, see 
 the world from your door." 
 
 Alice stepped out where the passing of many feet 
 had worn smooth hollows in the marble and on the 
 bricks. Jenifer turned slowly. She could see the bright 
 line of his shining eyes, his reddened cheek, and his 
 straight-set mouth. Their glances met and crossed, 
 and both looked out across the rolling land. 
 
 On a far-off hill, amidst thick trees, showed the dim 
 outlines of a house. The thin smoke curled above its 
 chimney. " Who lives there ? " asked Alice suddenly.
 
 74 Jenifer 
 
 "There? "Jenifer turned to look. " Do you know ? w 
 he asked Wheatham carelessly. 
 
 The artist named the owner. 
 
 " Don't you know them ? " demanded Alice sharply. 
 
 "I? Oh, yes; the name," said Jenifer calmly. "But 
 I didn't know any of the Grenwalds had bought that 
 place," he added with an easy laugh. 
 
 "And you don't know the people there?" she 
 persisted. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Are there any neighbors nearer ? " 
 
 " They are the nearest." 
 
 " The nearest," cried Alice shrilly; " and you don't 
 even know them ! Why " 
 
 " There is the bell," said Jenifer shortly. " Break- 
 fast is ready, I suppose." 
 
 It took all that morning for Alice to call up the distant 
 city and get the person with whom she wished to talk; 
 and while she waited she sauntered idly into the big 
 rooms, and out again. How high were the '*3By 
 above her head; and how insignificant they made her 
 feel! How heavy and dark the old furniture! And 
 the house was filled with it, the dining-room, this 
 parlor which opened into it, the library across the hall. 
 That was the worst of all, that room with its musty, 
 time-stained books, its deep window-sills, its wide but 
 small-paned windows, its black fireplace. 
 
 But there, though Alice did not know it, the artist 
 had achieved his dream. Lingering in that still silence 
 he had wrought out the thing he longed to do and sent 
 it forth, and the world gave it homage. On the sueugth
 
 Jenifer 75 
 
 of that praise, other visions had been born and shaped; 
 and Wheatham worked, where he had taken quarter, 
 slowly and blissfully. 
 
 His newspaper work had taught him that the pyro- 
 technic product, blaze it ever so brightly, is but ash 
 against the sky, and he thanked God that his success 
 was such as to be reason for work and had not sated 
 alike his public and himself. 
 
 Of this secret which the solemn room held, solemn 
 till the man or woman's self was in accord with it, 
 of the glowing words written there, of the great deeds 
 planned, and the history which had had its beginnings 
 by that hearth what possible knowledge had Alice? 
 Only the sunlit hall with the wind blowing through 
 and the telephone upon the wall was bearable to her; 
 and across the field the only hopeful sign she saw was 
 the stretch of the tall gray poles, the cross of their fire- 
 bearing tops, and the shine of the single wire which spun 
 away. She heard the singing of the wind against its 
 tautness, and felt that but for it the silence of the porch 
 would be past endurance. 
 
 Impatiently, once and again, she set the handle 
 whirling only to hear a tired : " Can't get them at the 
 other end of the line. Call you when I do." Central 
 had begun to wonder wearily what this new-comer would 
 prove to be. 
 
 Alice wandered up-stairs to her own room, or suite, 
 as Wheatham had designed it. 
 
 The servants, she had already found, finished their 
 duties in the house and disappeared. From the quarters 
 came now the sound of laughter for which she longed.
 
 76 Jenifer 
 
 Alice leaned head and shoulders from the window, 
 listening wistfully; and as she gazed, discontent already 
 on her face, the Englishman came to his door and 
 looked across and up. 
 
 The clothes of his calling gave him distinction where 
 such were not frequent; they showed his sturdy figure 
 and square shoulders, and his ruddiness was comely. 
 Before she was aware, the mistress of the house leaned 
 farther out and smiled warmly. 
 
 The Englishman's hand went to his cap. He turned 
 quickly and there was but the blackness of his open 
 door. 
 
 Alice drew back frowning, but she had time to feel 
 angry neither with herself nor him. The telephone bell 
 was ringing in the hall below. 
 
 She ran down the stair. " Yes, yes," she breathed 
 into the tube. 
 
 " Eugenia ! " she cried. Her younger sister was at 
 the other end of the line. 
 
 " Yes, it's me ! Scared were you ? " laughing loudly. 
 " Didn't know I was coming ? Neither did I. Yes, 
 I'm home." Her voice dropped into an inflection which 
 carried across the miles. 
 
 " What did you say ? Carriages ? Of course ! Big 
 house ? Tremendous. Servants ? " answering the rapid 
 questions. " Oh, yes." And then sounded into the 
 woman's ear a thin ecstatic " Oh ! " 
 
 How hot had seemed the bricks to Eugenia's feet as 
 she went down the street, how blinding the heat that 
 beat against the wall ! How wonderful it was to hear 
 of such great fortune !
 
 Jenifer 77 
 
 " I am coming to see you," sounded the voice along 
 the line. 
 
 " I wish you would," cried Alice fervently. 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 " When I have my holiday." 
 
 " How soon is that ? " impatiently. 
 
 " August." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 A laugh, a few short sentences, there is at first 
 little to say when people have been long apart, and 
 the talk soon ended. But it gave Alice something to 
 think of and plan for, that and the unpacking of her 
 trunks. 
 
 Jenifer had never an idle moment. Crops and fences 
 and woods, pasture and cattle, stable and horses; and 
 his knowledge of them adjusted, Jenifer began to see 
 that there were human tangles at hand. 
 
 Wheatham was clearly restless. Now that the master 
 of the house had come and the artist's work for him 
 was done, Wheatham was wondering if he must not be 
 gone. He stammered something of it to Jenifer. 
 
 " Where do you want to go ? " asked Jenifer so calmly 
 that Wheatham was deceived. 
 
 "Where?" And then bluntly, "The Lord only 
 knows." 
 
 " What's the matter with this ? " 
 
 " Matter ! " Wheatham again repeated. He looked 
 about him. Two houses of one room each had been 
 detached by the builder from the range of quarters. 
 The Englishman had one; Wheatham the other. No
 
 78 Jenifer 
 
 furnishings had been allowed in this, only odd bits of 
 furniture and cleanly comfort; and, sidewise to the 
 window and thrusting half-across the room, a huge 
 table, wide and strong, and easy to elbow. The land 
 sloped steeply outside the window and swelled high 
 again beyond the narrow valley, where a stream sang 
 in the bottom. A point of woods dipped to the water, 
 and on the farthest line of vision were haze and mist 
 and mountain tops. 
 
 Wheatham wondered dully if he could ever accom- 
 plish anything anywhere else. He was hot with anger 
 at himself for so loving what was not his nor ever 
 would be, except that beauty and inspiration of it which 
 he had caught in spirit. 
 
 " You are satisfied ? " 
 
 " Oh, God knows, yes." 
 
 " I am." 
 
 The eager flush ran over Wheatham's face. " But 
 perhaps your wife with her you want no one else 
 about," he blurted. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " Jenifer's amazement was so certain 
 that it amused. His laugh broke the tension between 
 them. 
 
 " Then then you must allow for my keep." 
 
 " Don't you think that is enough ? " asked Jenifer, 
 coming up to him as Wheatham leaned against the 
 window-frame. 
 
 " But it's yours." 
 
 " And yours what you want of it." 
 
 " No." Wheatham was firm. He named a sum. 
 " I shall pay it to your wife," he insisted.
 
 Jenifer 79 
 
 Jenifer, with a remembrance of Alice's love for 
 money, her passion for handling it and spending it, 
 laughed. " It will suit her well enough," he declared 
 lightly. 
 
 " And me also. I shall do it." 
 
 Jenifer let it stand. His hand, for a second, fell 
 firm and warm on the artist's shoulder before Jenifer 
 left the brick-walled room. 
 
 Yet Wheatham was angered with himself for this 
 passion of place which had eaten into him. Why had 
 it become so much to him ? The poet part of him might 
 have answered, and comforted him. 
 
 It might have told him that out of ail loves two primal 
 ones forever remain the love of the earth, the love 
 of God. Out of the earth He made man; into the 
 image He breathed His spirit : and like still calls to like.
 
 IX 
 
 BEN had developed a bitter rivalry towards the 
 Englishman. He hated him with that curious disdain 
 the negro feels when he comes in contact with the white 
 man who sees in dusky skin and racial qualities no 
 signal of inferiority. He hated him for his science, 
 where he himself had only instinct, and but for the 
 Englishman's obtuseness and his acceptance of Ben's 
 surliness as a part of the strangeness of a race with 
 which he had newly come in contact, there would 
 have been trouble. 
 
 No one, not Wheatham himself, had so rejoiced at 
 Jenifer's coming, as Ben. 
 
 " Lawd," he said to Jenifer, as Ben followed him 
 across the fields, " now you'll see some sense in de way 
 things goes on dis place. Dat man ! " It was the 
 negro's scornful phrase for the Englishman, and his 
 ideas of the other's management were unspeakable. 
 Ben shook his head and pursed his lips, but could 
 find no word to express what he thought. Besides, 
 they had reached the paddock. 
 
 Jenifer leaned his arms on the high topmost rail 
 
 and looked with delighted eyes on the roll of green land, 
 
 the sparkling stream at the bottom, the tall grass that 
 
 well-nigh hid the water, and the cluster of thin-legged 
 
 80
 
 Jenifer 81 
 
 arid slim-bodied colts which crowded close for com- 
 pany. 
 
 " Dat colt," vowed Ben, as one turned his head and 
 arched his neck and looked back at them, " dat colt 
 he's turned three years, an' ain't nobody dare tetch 
 him. When dey does dyar'll be de debbil to pay sho. 
 Talk 'bout nobody, light weight nor none, ebbah puttin' 
 a leg arcross a hoss's back tell he is full-growed! no, 
 sah! De time to begin is early, boy on a colt's 
 back fetching him 'long to watah, wid a kick on his 
 ribs to make him go straight, dat's de way to gentle 
 him. 
 
 " An' dat man, dis is his way. Paddock, he call dis 
 place. Lawd ! why don't he turn de colts out an' git 
 'em room, an' let 'em loose. Dey'd git up an' grow 
 same lak de grass." 
 
 " Looks as if these fellows were doing all right," 
 declared Jenifer lazily. 
 
 " Dey's ol' ernuff," grumbled Ben. 
 
 " What horse is that ? " demanded Jenifer quickly, 
 as a bay trotted out from the crowd to thrust her muzzle 
 into the stream. 
 
 " Dat ? Dat's Lightfoot," in a tone of intense satis- 
 faction. " An' she's de onlies' one dat's got a name. 
 He done had her writ down in de book." 
 
 " Registered ? Are you sure ? " 
 
 " Yes, sah," emphatically. " Sire Dixie, dam Beauty," 
 Ben repeated glibly. 
 
 " Ever been ridden ? " 
 
 " Dat man done his hop-skippin' what de calls ridin* 
 on her back. Ebry time he riz up in de stirrups you
 
 82 Jenifer 
 
 could view de mountains 'twixt him an* de saddle. 
 Fac', " at Jenifer's shake of silent laughter. 
 
 " Bring a saddle here," commanded Jenifer, as he 
 turned his arm upon the rail. 
 
 " Sah ! " Ben's mouth dropped wide open. 
 
 " Bring a saddle and bridle down here; I'm going 
 to try her." 
 
 "Whar?" 
 
 " Here, anywhere; across the field." The land 
 about the paddock was " resting." 
 
 " Dat I will. Dat I will." Ben, scenting fun and a 
 rise out of the Englishman, sped up the hill. 
 
 The fun was not so furious as the negro had expected. 
 The Englishman's training of Lightfoot had been more 
 thorough than the negro gave him credit for; and, also, 
 Lightfoot 's nature, like her birth, was gentle. 
 
 Her rearing and plunging were all false starts to 
 what Ben looked for, perhaps hoped for. His " Dyar 
 she goes," " 'Fore de Lawd ! " " Set tight," were useless, 
 if hilarious, warnings. 
 
 Over and across the field they circled, man fitting 
 himself to horse and horse to man. Jenifer came back 
 in easy lope. " Take her to the stable," he commanded. 
 
 " Yes; yes, sah," doubtfully. 
 
 " I shall ride her," declared Jenifer succinctly. 
 
 Ben, racing with the bridle end in hand, and Light- 
 foot, keeping the rein loose as she trotted near, were 
 off. At the stable door they met the Englishman. It 
 was all that Ben desired. 
 
 " What are you doing with that horse ? " Grame 
 demanded angrily.
 
 Jenifer 83 
 
 " Dis boss ? " Ben's eyes were wide and fathomless. 
 " Dis Marse Jen'fah's ridin' hoss. He done tol' me to 
 bring her up to the stable." 
 
 " She's not safe," the man blundered into saying. 
 " He can't he will not be able to ride her." 
 
 " Hi ! " said the negro, " you ought to 'a' been down 
 in de fiel' jes now. Lightfoot went jes as easy, an' 
 Marse Jen'fah, he suttenly sits his hoss lak a gemmen, 
 same as ef he an' de saddle was made tergedder, an' 
 de hoss 'long 'bout de same time. You ought to V 
 seed 'em." 
 
 Ben chuckled innocently; but he flashed a look out 
 of the tail of his eye as the horse went by; and when 
 he saw a redness of Grame's cheeks which was not 
 altogether ruddiness, he chuckled anew but to him- 
 self. 
 
 Lightfoot had come to the stable's best. 
 
 Jenifer watched man and horse till they were over 
 the hill, then he turned his back towards the house, 
 and sauntered slowly. His hat was low over his eyes, 
 his hands in his pockets. Wild grasses and vines and 
 vetches ran over the furrows. Where the stream came 
 singing the grass was knee-deep. Wood-alder pushed 
 out its stiff and unopened bloom above the water. 
 Ferns touched the ripples lightly. But without a look 
 at pools or shallows Jenifer sprang over. 
 
 He was whistling softly to himself, whistling against 
 his memories. Beyond the wood not a mile in 
 thickness was the cabin he remembered. It was 
 deserted, and the land about it ran wild; Jenifer had 
 asked and learned. While he was devoid of pride, he
 
 84 Jenifer 
 
 was, also, bare of sentiment; so he would have said, 
 and most others of him. 
 
 The leaves of long past summers rustled under his 
 feet; those of the year whispered softly overhead. The 
 wood-talk waked fleeting and ungrasped thought. Of 
 what did it hint ? Jenifer's brow was furrowed ; his 
 gaze on the leaves beneath his feet. 
 
 He had been climbing steadily. Here the land crested, 
 ran level for a space, and then was broken by wooded 
 gulleys. A rift like that a river wears between bold 
 bluffs was in its midst, and narrow gulleys, like short 
 streams, ran up from it. Pines grew about the ravines, 
 and drifted their needles upon the slopes; and the 
 winds had heaped them in the hollows. 
 
 The drifted chaff was dry and resinous; overhead 
 the skies were blue, the pine-tops etched against them; 
 and hint of summer and song of spring were in their 
 slow rocking. Jenifer stood tense and listening. He 
 remembered that here the best his young boyhood had 
 known had been given him. He had slid and stumbled 
 and made summer slides down these gulleys. He had 
 set his traps here. He had watched the birds through 
 all this wood. He had come and gone along 
 these paths ; but it was not the memory of these 
 which haunted him. There had been little either 
 lovely or happy in his boyhood, but this memory 
 whatever its elusiveness hinted of was warm and 
 bright. 
 
 Jenifer threw himself face downward on the dry 
 chaff, and propped his chin in his hands. He was glad 
 to be away from the old place and to think of it. It
 
 Jenifer 85 
 
 was more than his memory, or his anticipation of it, 
 had been ; and he could dream of its possibilities. 
 
 Jenifer loved the earth enough to be glad that the 
 legend of creation fashioned the first man from it. It 
 was boon to live upon it, and he was willing to return 
 unto it the elements of that body which had housed his 
 spirit. Land and wood were part of him. To live 
 amongst these, call these his own, was highest joy. 
 
 But against his content one chord already jarred. 
 He was not blind to the dissatisfaction in Alice's face. 
 Man-like he believed that time would efface it. He 
 was masterfully sure that he had done right in bringing 
 her home; and he had wondered every day since he 
 had first set foot upon the stile and seen Wheatham's 
 face and Ben's beyond it and the house more beautiful 
 than he remembered it, he had wondered how, with 
 that awaiting him, he had lingered. 
 
 So he reasoned dreamily, forgetting the memory 
 which had eluded him. He moved restlessly, flung out 
 an arm, and hit upon something hard beneath the 
 leaves. Looking carelessly he saw a mossy brick, and 
 pushing the drift aside he uncovered a round of them 
 set like a Runic ring. 
 
 Jenifer sprang up, laughing beneath his breath, 
 kicked the leaves from above them; and he remem- 
 bered. 
 
 Here he had first seen a little maid, slipping along 
 the way. The soles of her buttoned boots were bright 
 from long walking on the chaff and she could scarcely 
 balance herself upon them. The dimpled hands were 
 outstretched and the eyes beneath her tossing curls
 
 86 Jenifer 
 
 were imploring. The round and dimpled chin above 
 her cap strings quivered, but she had not uttered a 
 sound when the woman who should have cared for her 
 hurried to meet another along the path. 
 
 The boy had been taking a header down the rift, 
 and he had sat up amidst the leaves, brushing the 
 chaff from face and eyes, and looked up at her. She 
 had laughed; and he had run up the slope to her, and 
 piled cones for her amusement, done anything for 
 the baby eyes and friendly smile. The nurse, looking 
 back, had settled herself for comfortable talk. 
 
 The boy had searched for pebbles and broken the 
 wild plum blossoms and sought for deep-speared mosses; 
 and she had commanded though she lisped. 
 
 Day by day he had haunted the gulleys and the 
 rifts. A cabin was beyond the woods, and to this the 
 woman came. Twice, three times he did not know 
 how often he had met them and the girl had stayed 
 and played. For her the bricks had been rounded, 
 there she had ruled, and there, gravely and possessively, 
 she had called him a name it reddened him to remember. 
 
 Then, though he haunted the woods, she disappeared. 
 The little maid had been a visitor to the house which 
 was now his, and she had gone home. What followed 
 his father's death, the reaching of a friendly hand to 
 place him in the school obscured the recollection of 
 her. Even now it was a mist of memory, but Jenifer's 
 heart was warm as he remembered. 
 
 He would go no farther. With closed eyes he could 
 see the cabin he had set out to seek. He knew how the 
 chimney must have sagged and the logs pulled from
 
 Jenifer 87 
 
 their crossings; how the sassafras grew on the red, 
 washed hills, and the sumach in the hollows; how the 
 saplings stole on the little free-hold clearing, the few 
 acres of the " poor white " on the fringes of a great 
 estate. 
 
 It was better to linger dreaming here. But the dream 
 of a man whose life is in deeds cuts deep. It has no 
 trickling shallows to temper its strength, but one straight 
 bed, and it so goes deep, and deeper.
 
 A LONG rain, the " rain of the blackberry blossoms," 
 drove Jenifer into the library. 
 
 He had come from the hills where he searched for 
 young cattle. The water ran from his storm-coat and 
 from Lightfoot's mane, and the horse's flanks were 
 rough and smoking when he rode into the stable; but 
 his rain-lashed cheeks were red, and his eyes were 
 glowing. He had seen the clouds rolling between the 
 peaks; the bounding streams, and grasses bent beside 
 them; the washed and vivid earth; the water foaming 
 in the gulleys; and, on a worthless hillside, the clumps 
 of Scottish broom, straight and dark and sheltering the 
 golden blossoms at their heart. 
 
 Jenifer laughed at Ben f s dismay at sight of him and 
 at the negro's grumblings as he followed to the house. 
 
 " Ise gwine light a fiah in hyar," Ben vowed. He 
 stood at the library door. In the other rooms Ben 
 dared no liberties, but this, with its dark colorings and 
 heavy massing of books, its wide tables and big chairs, 
 its height and breadth and deep framed windows and 
 black hearth, seemed, to the negro, masculine, belonging 
 to the master of the house. Besides, Ben, because of 
 what he considered Jenifer's plight, was fairly defiant 
 " You needs it sho," he declared.
 
 Jenifer 89 
 
 Jenifer nodded as he ran up the stair, but he came 
 down soon, and lightly. Alice was asleep. 
 
 The wind whistled through the hall, the rain stung 
 across the brick floor of the porch. In the lane the 
 locust blossoms hung like veils of white hidden behind 
 dripping leaves. The beaten roses drooped toward the 
 sodden grass. 
 
 " It sho is a storm," grumbled Ben, kneeling on the 
 hearth, and sputtering in the smoke which puffed down 
 about him. " 'Clare 'tis scan'lous. Ain't nobody shet 
 de do's, nor pull de winders down, nor nor done 
 nothin'. Ebrylas' niggah stickin' to de quartahs, an* " 
 He stopped short. Another word would bring criticism 
 on the careless sleeping mistress. " Sit down, Marse 
 Jen'fah. Pull up hyar befo' de fiah. It's gwine be 
 sompin soon, or I'll bust myse'f wid blowin'." Ben sat 
 back on his heels. " Name o' Gawd, what you trapsin* 
 'bout so fer," he argued, " ain't yo got dat man ? don't 
 see no good he is nohow. 
 
 " But it don't look like it huht you none," he added 
 grudgingly, as he stood for a moment on the edge of the 
 hearth. Jenifer was the picture of contentment and of 
 virile strength. He was leaning back in the big chair. 
 His hair was black and wet; his cheeks were flushed 
 and his eyes shining with laughter at Ben's protesting 
 grumbles. " Don't nothin' 'tall seem to huht you, 
 nothin'," admitted Ben, who had watched amazedly as 
 Jenifer spent every hour of the day in oversight and work, 
 leaving no corner of the place to slip from his mastery. 
 
 Still, Ben lowered a window before he left, piled the 
 logs higher, and looked back from the door to see if
 
 90 Jenifer 
 
 there were more to be done for his employer's comfort. 
 He was used to Jenifer's silences and was learning to 
 humor them. 
 
 Jenifer did not know when Ben went out of the 
 room. He was tingling from his fight with wind and 
 rain, and the heat of the leaping flames made drowsy 
 comfort. He was no reader; but he was soon restless. 
 Unwelcome thoughts had begun to beset him and he 
 cared for no idle hours. Wheatham, in his quarters, had 
 come upon a time when he brooked no disturbance and 
 glowered at any one who came even beneath the arcade 
 before his door, while his head was bent always above his 
 table, his cheeks red and hot, his eyes a shining line, his 
 fingers forever busied. 
 
 What was it he had said about the books? The 
 artist's fancy ran riot over everything about the house. 
 Jenifer's swept to acres and woods and all living things 
 upon and within them. While Wheatham was like the 
 bee, seeking his own particular sweet, Jenifer's seething 
 energy held no limitations. 
 
 He got up now, pushed the few and unopened papers 
 restlessly about the table, walked up and down the long 
 floor, lounged in the deep window; still, there was 
 nothing but the storm, the lash of it across the land, 
 the writhing trees, the sheets of rain. 
 
 Jenifer paused before a diamond-paned case where 
 worn and leather-bound volumes showed black on the 
 shelves, where doors were locked and a key left carelessly. 
 The books in this case were those about which Wheatham 
 had raved. "Unique," "rare," he had called them; 
 and he had dwelt longest on some manuscripts.
 
 Jenifer 91' 
 
 " How in the world you came to get them, Jenifer, 
 I don't see; how they ever came to be sold But they 
 are here, and yours, all right. If ever you want to know 
 how men lived a century and half ago, what sort of a 
 fellow built this house, and cut down the woods for 
 you, and made your way generally easy, you've got the 
 record right at hand. And, I say, Jenifer," Wheatham 
 had added earnestly, " I'd be careful with those papers. 
 They have their own value, not to you alone, mind you, 
 nor to those who have owned them, they don't seem 
 to care a rush about them, maybe didn't even know of 
 them, but they are valuable to the world at large. 
 Look over them sometime, you'll see." 
 
 Jenifer remembered the leather-bound, metal-clasped 
 tome which Wheatham had handled as he spoke. He 
 took it down carelessly, and, leaning against the high, 
 dark case undid the clasp and turned the stiff, time- 
 stained, yellow pages. 
 
 Pen-written they were, but clear as print; and Jeni- 
 fer's careless glance fell first on a record of marriages 
 and then of births; and then, as he turned the leaves, 
 on letters glued to the time-splotched pages. The 
 names at the end amazed him. They were those who 
 from the leading division of the colonies reached out to 
 touch them all, to unite them, and to marshall them 
 in array; to sound the trumpet-call to resistance, war, 
 and free government; and to foster the newly born 
 giant of the great and all-promising West. Here was 
 Washington's name, here Jefferson's; Madison's fol- 
 lowed; and others of whom history takes vivid note. 
 Here their letters, and copies of the replies !
 
 92 Jenifer 
 
 Jenifer strode across to the table by the fireside, 
 spread the book upon it, wheeled a chair to face it, and, 
 with nervous fingers thrust through his black hair, 
 leaned above the pages. 
 
 The alien owner searched the diary of the founder 
 of the house from whose abiding-place the race had 
 fled. Only that brick-walled space beyond the garden 
 paths was theirs, and there the trees beat and bent, and 
 the water ran between the graves. Yet the vivid spirit 
 of that long departed life leaped out along the words, 
 and laid a hand on him the stranger. 
 
 The building of the house, the bringing of its mistress 
 home, the coming of the children, a man's joy the 
 stronger for the brevity of its telling; memoranda of 
 his day, of men of the colonies who visited him; jottings 
 of their wranglings over disputed points whose long 
 ago solutions are now a country's boast; the gathering 
 storm of discontent; these letters to him: and, between, 
 a record for making wine, perhaps; notes on the vines 
 he had planted on the hills; the pedigree of a horse; a 
 line concerning a fox hunt and those who had slept on 
 the night thereafter in his hospitable house; the 
 record of a life that was strong and full and jovial, its 
 pulse beating in rhythm with the pulse of his world; of 
 it, helping it, uplifting it, and shaping its destinies. 
 
 It showed Jenifer, not only in that one fascinated 
 hour in the silent house, the storm outside, and within 
 the imperious call of spirit unto spirit, but in many 
 another searching, that they who founded the house 
 which had come to be his had held no selfish life apart 
 from their fellows. To live and enjoy were not enough
 
 Jenifer 93 
 
 for them. In the questions which had come to each 
 generation they had helped, and led. Upon their 
 names alone could be threaded the history of their 
 country; theirs, and his. 
 
 Jenifer had not had a thought concerning his neighbors. 
 He had delighted in his possessions and the dream of 
 what he should do with them, but already he felt a lack. 
 He saw it not so much in his own life as in that of the 
 woman bound to him. Visiting, cordiality, and free 
 hospitality were the purlieus permitted the women of 
 the house. None fell to Alice. Jenifer was living unto 
 himself. He was yet too young to know how dreary 
 it could prove. 
 
 These pen-written pages led him to others. The 
 volumes in that case had been gathered by a hand 
 which knew two loves if they be not one history 
 and biography. Jenifer pursued through summer 
 evenings and noon's still hours and winter's close-shut 
 nights names he came to know and reverence; and 
 with them for ideals and a new self-measurement 
 he began to feel his content pricked at many a point and 
 a longing which seemed hopeless of accomplishment: 
 for the man's hamperings were not alone of his own 
 making. 
 
 First this clear script told, while the unheeded storm 
 roared without and the fire died on the hearth, a part 
 of that tale the reader, stern of face and white of cheek 
 as he read, had known and cared little for, since having 
 always accepted it, he had half- forgotten : 
 
 Early in the war for liberty the firm-handed writer 
 of the diary had been wounded, sent home, and, his
 
 94 Jenifer 
 
 disability continuing, mustered out. The few lines 
 telling it were disjointed lamentation. The Americans 
 had lost, New York had been evacuated, Washington 
 was retreating through New Jersey. Then a hallelujah, 
 and in Christmas season ! Washington had fallen upon 
 the Hessians, their leader was killed, and a thousand 
 soldiers prisoners. 
 
 Jefferson was across the hills, and there were letters 
 to and fro, visits and arguments all recorded. Finally 
 the statement of one great fact: Jefferson had per- 
 suaded Washington to send the Hessian prisoners to 
 this then remote country to be guarded, and the man 
 who could no longer fight, but was afire to do his country 
 service, would be the foreigners' guardian. Their 
 camp was to be two miles from the house, but on what 
 was then within the plantation's boundaries; quarters 
 of weather-boarding were put up rapidly; and in this 
 house some of the officers were to be housed. 
 
 So far was history. It was its byway, of which on 
 these stained pages there was no hint, which was Jenifer's 
 story. His lineage was that of one of the officers so 
 written about and a pretty and ignorant daughter of a 
 small farmer of the hills; and there had been no marriage. 
 
 Disowned, the woman yet bravely made her way. 
 A hut well hidden, a loom in whose handling she grew 
 skilled, red earth to bear a friendly hundred-fold, and 
 a sturdy boy growing by her side! 
 
 The boy had grown, married with his mother's kind 
 when she was pure and had seen a boy born unto 
 him. The son of that man was Jenifer's father. But 
 the hills had not forgotten and would never forget
 
 Jenifer 9$ 
 
 that story. A proud people held them, a folk whose 
 legends from generation to generation were as familiar 
 as the lisp upon a baby's lips. 
 
 They knew how, when the revolution was ended, 
 some of the Hessians, freed, had returned to their own 
 country; some had scattered through that new free 
 land; and some had taken to those far mountains whose 
 blueness they had grown to love and for whose wildness 
 they were fitted ; their blood still flowed in the veins of 
 a strange folk who held aloof and lived their own tra- 
 ditions back in the wild pockets of the peaks. 
 
 But Jenifer's people, of which he was the last, 
 had held on here. His name Wooten Jenifer 
 memorialized his Hessian ancestor. Even this place and 
 house were part of his history, for its " Fair Hills " 
 had slipped long ago into the terse " Barracks." 
 
 What strangeness of fate had brought him to its 
 possession ? What remote guerdon for a woman's 
 far-off" agony did his fortune hold ? Jenifer could not 
 ask. 
 
 Stumbling to his feet, and striding through the hall 
 and out to the porch and fresh air, he looked, with 
 stern eyes, across the rain-washed hills towards that on 
 which the prisoners' camp had stood. His strong hand 
 gripping the rounded, brick-made pillar, slipped upon 
 grooved lines, letters cut deep. There were many upon 
 the porch, and some which he had noted carelessly. 
 But this had been unseen. And, broken, moss-grown, 
 beneath his fingers, this was W.
 
 XI 
 
 " I SHOULD like to know what there is for any one to 
 do here ? " 
 
 The question was a challenge. Alice's blue eyes were 
 hard and sullen as she looked across the table. 
 
 " To do ? " Jenifer asked helplessly. He was, that 
 morning, absolutely content. The cool air stole through 
 the room; the breath of honeysuckle came with it, and 
 the song of a mocking-bird. Jenifer's plans were end- 
 less and his mind had been full of them, as Wheatham 
 talked carelessly of the day and the roses abloom. 
 
 " Why " began Jenifer, and stopped again, as 
 much at sex as he had been before. 
 
 The women of such houses as this had always had a 
 press of duties. Jenifer's hazy memory painted pictures 
 of gracious mistresses with jingling keys, who gave long 
 hours of oversight and careful orders; or, with skirts 
 held daintily, lingered in the garden walks commanding 
 work in flower-bordered squares. 
 
 " Is there anything you would like to have done in the 
 garden ? " he asked quickly, catching at the last thought. 
 
 " The garden ! I cannot bear it, I cannot open the 
 gate without seeing that that dreadful place." 
 
 " You don't mean the graveyard ? " 
 
 Alice leaned her elbows on the table and shivered as 
 she bent her head upon her hands. 
 96
 
 Jenifer 97 
 
 " I don't know what there is about that Are you 
 afraid of it ? " with a slight emphasis of scorn. 
 
 " There is not a servant on the place who will cross 
 that field after dark," Alice flashed. 
 
 " Oh, they are always superstitious. Are you ? Is 
 that it ? " he teased. 
 
 " No, it is not. But I don't see why that that 
 place why they should have chosen that a spot 
 forever in sight." 
 
 Jenifer went on with his meal. If that idle and 
 senseless complaint were all Alice had in mind, it was 
 not worth talking about. It seemed to him fitting that 
 the abiding-place of the dead should be near enough 
 for sight and care; and he had thought a man might 
 live the better for remembering how soon his life is 
 sped; or, rather, not being of analytic mind, it seemed 
 to him a roundness and completion. Amongst his 
 first orders had been those which cleared the neglected 
 mounds, and put trim the space within the walls. 
 
 " Then you don't want to take care of the garden ? " 
 he asked again. 
 
 " No," said Alice shortly. 
 
 Wheatham, silent in his chair, had a swift vision of a 
 woman in the paths, marjoram and bergamot and pale 
 sage brushing her skirts as she passed, chrysanthemums, 
 in their season, wine-red at her feet. Alice, tall and 
 fair-haired, might have fitted to the picture. Why did 
 she reject it all ? 
 
 The slight hold she had at first taken loosened in her 
 fingers. The house which might have been a delight 
 in some woman's hands showed already neglect of
 
 98 Jenifer 
 
 service. The servants shirked their duties, bestowing 
 less attention on the house and more on themselves, 
 with idleness and laughter; and in place of their guidance 
 was fault-finding from the mistress. 
 
 The artist had pictured the house, as he planned its 
 furnishings, with one who loved it as its gracious ruler. 
 He had imaged the windows flung wide to morning air, 
 the bowls heaped with blossomings, the floor polished 
 to give back her shadow as she passed; or dim at noon 
 with closed shutters, and dusky sweetness beneath the 
 ceiling; or at evening when the wide hall was gathering- 
 place, or the porch loitering-ground, or the stile 
 God ! it made him half in love himself with any woman 
 who would but hold the drapery of his dreams upon 
 her shoulders. But this woman refused her kingdom : 
 worse, she did not see it. 
 
 " How would you like to take charge of the chickens ? " 
 asked Jenifer, his mind upon her dissatisfaction and her 
 wants. He knew its surest cure, and its only one, was 
 work and interest. 
 
 " I ? " with blue eyes wide. " I ? I don't know a 
 thing about them, and I don't want to know," she cried, 
 pushing back her chair and springing to her feet. 
 
 Jenifer finished his breakfast calmly. He was not 
 worried. He could not imagine failure to find eventually 
 an interest in such a life as this he offered to his wife: 
 and he had left Alice to find her bearings, and take 
 what best pleased her; but her listlessness and moping 
 began to wear on him. 
 
 " Alice," he asked when he found her in the hall, 
 " would you like to go driving this afternoon ? "
 
 Jenifer 99 
 
 " Where ? " she demanded eagerly. 
 
 " Wherever you like." He seated himself comfortably 
 on the worn step. 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 Jenifer caught the tone, and looked up keenly from 
 the match whose flame he sheltered with his curved palm. 
 " Anywhere you want to go particularly ? " 
 
 " No unless Is there anybody around here to go 
 and see ? " 
 
 " No one has been to see us. The people around here 
 are not much given to that sort of thing going to see 
 strangers." 
 
 " What do they do then ? " she demanded impatiently. 
 
 A dark red streaked Jenifer's cheek. "Work; and 
 hard enough, too." 
 
 " But the women ? " Alice persisted. 
 
 " Well, I expect if you saw them you would say they 
 worked also," he answered lazily, his good-nature easily 
 restored. 
 
 " Not all the time ? " 
 
 He laughed, knowing something of the women's 
 ways. 
 
 "Well?" petulantly. 
 
 Jenifer shook his head as he flung the match into the 
 grass. He could not tell, because he could not put it 
 into words, of that good-fellowship, ironclad towards 
 one who was not desired, and, as he wanted none of it 
 himself, as yet, he could not gauge her lack. 
 
 " It's lonely here," Alice complained, as if she spoke 
 to herself. 
 
 " Lonely ! Lord ! " Jenifer looked up ready to
 
 ioo Jenifer 
 
 laugh. She could not be in earnest. " You must find 
 something to do," he lightly advised. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Give it up. Alice 1 " as she whirled away. He was 
 about to make some hot protest, but he caught himself 
 in time. " Do you want some money ? " he ended lamely. 
 
 It was a question for which she had but one answer, 
 one and always. She stood still looking back at him 
 over her shoulder. Her skirt and the puff of her thin 
 blouse and the fluff of her hair swayed in the wind 
 which stole through the hall. The darkness of its setting 
 made her fairness the brighter. If only the lips had 
 curved, the eyes had laughed ! 
 
 " What would you do with it ? " 
 
 Alice stood silent. She did not know; only, she 
 wanted it. 
 
 " You have clothes enough ? " he asked anxiously. 
 Jenifer's was the nature which would have gloried to 
 put bounty and luxury within a woman's hand and 
 asked but her pride in it, her gaiety, and had he 
 known what such would have meant to him her love. 
 " If you have not " 
 
 " I have plenty," she was forced to admit. 
 
 " I should think so," with a careless remembrance 
 of her trunks. "And there are not many places to go " 
 
 It was fuel to fire. With an exclamation Jenifer did 
 not hear, Alice ran half-way up the stair, stopped on the 
 landing, and came down again. 
 
 He was watching her, uncomprehending. His hand 
 was still in his pocket and his good-nature held. His 
 wrath she had never seen, nor had he guessed its force.
 
 Jenifer 101 
 
 " Well," he teased, " you have not told me." Not 
 that he cared. Jenifer was only trying to talk and be 
 careless, to ease the tug of whose strain he was vaguely 
 aware. 
 
 " I don't know," she admitted, as she leaned against 
 the door-frame. 
 
 " Make up your mind. There's all day." 
 
 " Would you care," she began slowly, " would 
 you mind if I I hate all that stuff up-stairs," she rushed 
 on, " my room, the sitting-room, all of it. Dull, heavy, 
 hideous! It makes my flesh creep. Why can't I fix 
 them, furnish them to suit myself?" She paused 
 breathless. 
 
 " What do you want to do ? How much do you 
 need ? " he asked after a moment's silence. 
 
 " I don't know. Suppose " in a sudden flash of 
 enthusiasm " Suppose I go to the city and get what 
 I want." Her voice faltered at the end, for she saw 
 the expression on his face. 
 
 "Not now, Alice; not now. You haven't you 
 haven't been home long enough to get used to things." 
 
 " How can I get anything then r " 
 
 Jenifer made an easy gesture towards the telephone. 
 " That and Uncle Sam. And there are some pretty 
 good shops in town. You can drive in." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " with disdain of local stores. But her 
 cheeks were red and her eyes laughing. " When are 
 we going driving ? " she called from the stair. 
 
 " Four. Will that suit ? " 
 
 "All right!" 
 
 Jenifer remembered the laughing face and watched
 
 IO2 Jenifer 
 
 for the look of it when Alice came out across the porch 
 and trailed her filmy skirts along the worn brick paths. 
 Very light they were, her skirts, and lace-like; and the 
 ends of them seemed to have been saved and gathered 
 up, and fashioned with soft plumage to crown her head. 
 The foot she put upon the stile was slippered faultlessly; 
 the gloves upon her fingers were white as the locust 
 blossoms. Her eyes held only pleased vanity at Jenifer's 
 long look and the delight she saw leap into his eyes. 
 The gleam died instantly from her face when Jenifer 
 assisted her to the seat behind that on which he must 
 sit to drive. 
 
 The bays were harnessed, and the carriage ordered 
 for the mistress's pleasure; but blooded horses pulling 
 at the reins and the jolting of a mountain road are not 
 conducive to talk. Now and then Jenifer roused 
 himself. The electric plant, which Wheatham had had 
 nearly finished and on which men were working, was 
 about done. The water-tower was complete. The 
 cattle sent from England thrived. All this talk was ut- 
 terly wearisome to his listener. As they neared the house 
 he asked : " Would you like to learn how to drive ? " 
 
 Alice shook her head. 
 
 " Or ride ? " Jenifer loosened the reins, and turned 
 carelessly on his seat. 
 
 " To ride ?" her blue eyes flew wide open. " That 
 would be nice." 
 
 " Good ! " he laughed. " Are you really in earnest ? " 
 
 "Certainly! When can I begin? To-morrow?" 
 She leaned forward eagerly. The plumes on her hat 
 brushed his face.
 
 Jenifer 103 
 
 " Whenever you are ready." Jenifer's delight was 
 keen. Here was a thing which he would like her to do 
 and which she really seemed to desire to try. " I will 
 pick you out a horse, or would you rather choose for 
 yourself? " 
 
 "Goodness! I know nothing about them." Neither 
 love of horse-flesh nor country nor exercise prompted 
 her; only a wish for something to do, and riding, in her 
 eyes, bore a show of luxury and elegance. It sounded 
 well, and it would be something to write about. 
 
 " I don't know who will teach you," began Jenifer 
 thoughtfully. " I can go with you at first; and after- 
 wards, Ben sometimes." 
 
 " Ben ! I don't want him." There was antipathy 
 between the two. 
 
 " How would Grame do ? " He missed the quick 
 questioning of Alice's eyes. " Only don't let him 
 teach you to ride as he does," Jenifer laughed, as they 
 swept into the lane. 
 
 Ben, at the horses' heads, caught something of Jeni- 
 fer's teasing as he and Alice crossed the stile. The 
 negro shook his head as he jumped to the driver's seat. 
 He had seen much of which Jenifer was unaware. 
 " Bettah min' what you doin'," Ben muttered, his eyes 
 on Jenifer's straight figure and easy step; " bettah min'." 
 And as the horses circled to the stables: " 'Deed you 
 had." But Jenifer's days were full and even the hours, 
 which might have been leisure ones, absorbed. 
 
 " Lawd," groaned Ben, as he wandered up and down 
 the lane one night and watched the flare of the library 
 lamp into the summer darkness and Jenifer bent beside
 
 IO4 Jenifer 
 
 it, book in hand, " Lawd, I suttenly did think he had 
 mo' sense. Dem books, dey jes puts out his min' an' 
 make him blin'. He don't see nothin'. An' what he 
 sees in dem! He bettah open his eyes to some things 
 right hyar. 'Tain't wuth while to take to readin' to fin' 
 out things. Dyar's plenty to han'; mo' dan we wants, 
 Gawd knows." 
 
 The riding lessons had gone well. The rein had 
 been freed from Alice's bridle, yet the Englishman rode 
 at her side. The wife of the master of the place was 
 afraid of lonely woods and long lanes, so she said. 
 Besides, she was forever chattering. The tongue that 
 was stilled in the big rooms had enough to say in the 
 open to one steady listener, a man inferior to those of 
 her household, yet easier for her to make a companion 
 of and nearer to her kind. 
 
 No one noticed when she changed the hour of her 
 ride and took to riding in the long dusk and lingering 
 till it nearly closed to night. It was the hour of magic 
 then; even she, impervious, could feel it. 
 
 Something in the scent of the earth when the dew 
 first touched it; something in the stillness of the woods 
 where birds were nesting and in the perfume of wood 
 blossoms and the first white stars above the hill and 
 the stealing of the wind over the breast of the land, 
 something caused even her shallow heart to ache and 
 stilled her careless tongue. 
 
 Ben, awaiting them one night, saw the stars come 
 out above the trees. The locust leaves were whispering 
 in the lane; the fireflies lighted it and the yard and all 
 the sweep of fields.
 
 Jenifer 105 
 
 From out the library streamed a light across the 
 hall and yard. By its source sat Jenifer, absorbing 
 every phrase he read, pausing to think of it, weigh it, 
 and fit it into place, such a reader as one who writes 
 might fashion, had he the power. 
 
 Ben, lounging on the fence, looked across at him. 
 Long-limbed, well shaped, with the grace of uncon- 
 sciousness; sun-tanned, earnest, with a aew look, born 
 of that reading which Ben abhorred, dawning in his 
 deep and glowing eyes. " Lawd," muttered Ben hope- 
 lessly, as he took up his beat in the lane. " Lawd ! " 
 He loitered back towards the stables. 
 
 Some one was touching a guitar lightly, and he paused 
 to listen. The player was the artist, Ben knew, and 
 touch and song were alike hesitant. While Ben listened 
 the clatter of horses full-sped was in the lane. Ben 
 ran around too late. 
 
 Grame was off his horse, the rein flung loose. One 
 hand tightened on Alice's bridle; the other was held 
 out to assist her. Ben heard her laugh as she freed 
 her foot from the stirrup, and he saw her face in the 
 beam of light that shone across the yard, her face, 
 the look of her eyes, and his, as she rested her hand a 
 minute against his shoulder. Neither had seen the 
 negro. Ben threw himself face downwards in the 
 grass. 
 
 The strain of the artist had grown more assured, his 
 tones fuller. 
 
 Though a hundred songs of the night beat through 
 his mind he would have none of them; though music 
 and mystery rang in every rhythm, he would sing them
 
 io6 Jenifer 
 
 not. The mocking-bird, trilling to the night, chose 
 all the songs that he had heard, and lingered on those 
 he loved; the song-sparrow near his nest had but 
 one liquid strain, and that his own. And because 
 Wheatham must thresh out his meaning for himself, 
 and must feel along words and notes and because the 
 late rose at his door was to the hour what the dream 
 of love was to his heart, he sang: 
 
 " The lilies in the gardens dusk 
 
 Blow fair and pale and pure, 
 The violets down the woodlands dim 
 Spread fair a purple lure; 
 And some may breathe, 
 And some may wreathe, 
 But for me the rose, my love, 
 For me the rose. 
 
 " The maiden down the darkened close 
 
 Moves proud and pure and still, 
 The lady 'long the primrose way 
 Sings clear and sweet and shrill; 
 And some may bow, 
 And some may vow, 
 But for me the rose, my love, 
 For me the rose."
 
 XII 
 
 " EUGENIA ! " A long, listening pause ! " You are 
 coming this week ? Saturday, oh ! must you ? of course ! 
 Who are you bringing with you ? Fine ! " at the list. 
 " Too many ? You couldn't bring enough. I want the 
 house full. I am dying to see people, lots, crowds ! 
 What hour Eugenia ! Hello ! Hello ! Eugenia ! 
 Yes ! " Alice stood listening for a second. " All right," 
 she called with a laugh, " Saturday ! " 
 
 And it was midweek ! Alice hung up the receiver 
 listlessly. For an instant she felt a mad wish that 
 instead of her words she could send herself, or that part 
 of her that thought and saw, along that glittering line 
 which spun by the trees and across the red hills, out to 
 the world. One swift electric rush and then the streets 
 and crowds. 
 
 Here the bricks glared in the walks; the heat dazzled 
 above the hills ; the haze on the mountains hid the peaks ; 
 the sky was filled with puffs of lazy clouds; and the 
 beating of the engine at its harvest threshing beyond 
 the stables rasped her nerves like the throb of a deep 
 note of an organ, too low to be heard, and too strong to 
 be endured. 
 
 Alice whirled from the door with a sudden passion 
 at its intolerableness. Ben was crossing the yard to 
 the quarters. " Ben Ben," she called. 
 107
 
 io8 Jenifer 
 
 " Put the horses to the carriage," she cried before 
 the negro had reached her. "I I am going into 
 town." It was a sudden mad resolve. Jenifer had often 
 urged her to go. He thought the drive and the shops 
 there might divert her. But after the cities she had 
 known what could a town here hold for her? Alice's 
 untutored imagination pictured the facilities of a cross- 
 roads village. " There are some things I must have by 
 Saturday. I am going now at once," she called 
 back from the hall. Ben stood rooted by the door, an 
 open-mouthed image of dismay. " I will be ready 
 before you are." 
 
 " Hurry," she urged, her foot upon the stair. 
 
 Ben, for a moment, did not move. To be carried off 
 on a day of harvest, when the smoke and smell of the 
 engine were in the air, when the wheat ran from the 
 thresher in golden slides; when " Marse Jen'fah," 
 blithe as any hand, worked with them side by side, 
 and even " dat man " was endurable; to leave this! 
 And cold meat and hot meat, corn-cake and loaf-bread, 
 cabbage and pot-liquor, apple pie and cherry-bread 
 under the big tree by the bam; "An' Marse Jen'fah 
 so proud he fit to bus' ; " to miss it all ! 
 
 " Gawd," he groaned, " some folks is fools. Dey 
 suttenly is." 
 
 " Dyar, de Lawd be praised." Ben straightened 
 like a dart. His black eyes flashed. Jenifer was stri- 
 ding across the yard. " He's gwine put a stop to all dis 
 tomfoolishness, I knows." Ben waited; but Jenifer 
 did not hurry out to countermand Alice's order. The 
 negro backed the horses to the carriage. Strap to
 
 Jenifer 109 
 
 buckle and buckle to tongue went slow and slower. 
 " Befo' de libin' Lawd," he groaned. Alice stood on 
 the stile, and Jenifer waited by her side. 
 
 " Ben is not ready." Jenifer laughed when he saw 
 the state of the horses at the stable door. " Better sit 
 down and wait." He himself swung one foot carelessly 
 from the stile; the other was curled comfortably under 
 him, and on his shoulders, his hat, and in his hair were 
 wisps of straw. " I look like a miller, I know. I feel 
 as if I'd like to be one just to handle such stuff 
 always. You ought to have come out, Alice, as I told 
 you. Why didn't you ? You missed it." His delight 
 in the day set him babbling. 
 
 Alice stood in the walk, her lace-ruffled parasol above 
 her head, the picture of impatience. 
 
 " You must come out to-morrow. We will have 
 another day of it. It's one of the best crops, the best 
 I'll bet, ever raised on this place. I "he pulled him- 
 self up. Jenifer had found some notes as to wheat yield 
 in the old diary. He had been about to quote them: 
 but not to her. He suddenly felt how absurd his interest 
 in the old pages would appear. " There comes Ben," 
 he cried, straightening himself and slipping his hand 
 under Alice's arm as she came up the few steps of the 
 stile. 
 
 " Go slow, Ben," Jenifer cautioned. " It's hot, 
 awful, for that long drive." Jenifer had intended to 
 persuade Alice to put off the expedition; but he found 
 her so bent on it that he had not spoken a word of 
 remonstrance. " Take good care of the horses. Alice, 
 you had better get your dinner in town. Cafes ? " to
 
 i io Jenifer 
 
 her astonished question, "of course." He told the 
 negro at which to stop. " And come back late in the 
 afternoon," he advised. " I am afraid there is going 
 to be a storm, though," he ended, with an anxious look 
 at the floating clouds. 
 
 " A thunder-storm ! " Alice leaned out to peer at 
 the sky. In this high land the thunder seemed to roll 
 across the hills which sent it echoing back, low and 
 menacing; while the lightning snapped like a pistol's 
 shot close at hand. Alice dreaded it with a deadly fear. 
 
 " Oh, I hope not," Jenifer reassured, seeing the 
 fright in her face. " One can never tell. Alice," leaning 
 again into the carriage, " get all you want, everything. 
 You must have a big time when they all come." What 
 would he not give to see her interested in her affairs 
 as he was in his ? And hospitality is right and natural 
 enough to be a law. 
 
 " Ben," Jenifer began again, but his intended caution 
 ended in a gleam of humorous sympathy. The negro 
 sat straight and stolid, anger spreading a look of 
 stupidity upon his face. " Good-by," he called instead, 
 and turned away. His hat was over his happy eyes, 
 and the slight blouse of his shirt blew against his belt 
 as he strode on, hurrying back where the thud of the 
 engine beat out a harvest call. Jenifer would have 
 missed it for nothing in his knowledge. 
 
 But Alice, who had not set foot in the town, which 
 was their station, since they sped out of it the day of 
 their coming, and who was contemptuous of what she 
 expected to find there, leaned back on her cushions, 
 careless of steep hill or long stretch of road. She was
 
 Jenifer m 
 
 crowding into her mind every need, fancied or real, of 
 her household and her guests. A lax keeper of her 
 home, she would make up her long neglect in one 
 absorbing whirl. 
 
 " You know where the stores are ? " she leaned 
 forward to ask, when the hot and wearisome miles 
 brought them to thick-set houses. 
 
 " Yes'm," said Ben stolidly. " But we ain't come to 
 'em yet." 
 
 " When you do, drive slowly," she commanded 
 sharply. " I will tell you when to stop." 
 
 There was nothing prepossessing in the houses they 
 drove by, the smoke-stacks of a factory, the unpainted 
 cottages, or the rough hill they climbed when Ben 
 turned the horses from the road by which they had 
 entered. But suddenly they were in a long wide street, 
 and it was crowded. A car whizzed past. 
 
 " Electric cars ! " gasped Alice. 
 
 " Dey took de mules off years ago," said Ben without 
 a flicker of expression across his face. 
 
 " A soda fountain ! Stop." She fairly clutched Ben's 
 shoulder, and loosened her skirts, ready to spring out 
 the moment the horses were brought beside the curb. 
 
 " You bettah jes sit still," advised Ben composedly. 
 " Leas' dat's what de swells does." Alice stiffened on 
 her seat. " Somebody'll come 'long out to you an* see 
 what you want. Dyar ! " as a young man hurried from 
 the store and came up to them. 
 
 Alice gave her order and leaned back when it was 
 filled to sip the foamy stuff luxuriously, to look at the 
 young man who waited with his hand on the awning
 
 112 Jenifer 
 
 pole, and to glance over his head at the shining spigots 
 of the fountain, the heaped fruits on the floor, and the 
 cases on the counter. " You have chocolates ? " 
 
 " Certainly." The man smiled at her curious man- 
 ner, but named the favorites and their prices. 
 
 The list Alice rattled off made the eyes of the clerk 
 widen, used though he was to an extravagant patronage. 
 " And another glass of soda," she laughed gleefully. 
 " Ben," in sudden generosity, " don't you want some- 
 thing to drink ? " 
 
 " Yes'm." Ben heard the click of her purse. A sud- 
 den flicker lit his black eyes as he turned. Alice held 
 out a dime. He let her lay it on the cushion beside 
 him, and left it in full sight, his solemn glance traversing 
 the amused clerk, the store, the street. " Can't git 
 nothin' now," he said soberly. " Dese hosses is feared 
 o' de cars. Dey's not to be trusted. Ise gwine put 
 dem up fus'." 
 
 " Where did this turnout come from ? " asked the 
 clerk in a low tone, when the woman behind Ben was 
 busied with her packages. 
 
 " De Barracks, sah," with show of satisfaction. 
 
 " So ! " with quick surprise, and swift, accurate 
 measurement of all, horses, carriage, mistress 
 " Long drive for such a hot day," he added care- 
 lessly. 
 
 ' 'Tis dat; an' we's got a lot to do. Dribe on ? " Ben 
 asked suddenly. Alice was scarcely ready. The young 
 man looked friendly and the atmosphere of the shop 
 was attractive; but Ben flicked at his horses. 
 
 The street was filled with the morning shoppers
 
 Jenifer 113 
 
 and drivers who were returning home, friendly groups, 
 shining carriages and laughing, bare-headed, bright 
 occupants. 
 
 Alice sat stiff and erect. She was distinctly glad of 
 her silk gown, her big hat, and lace-bedecked parasol; 
 of her sleek horses and their shining harness; and still 
 more glad of the money in her purse, as she went from 
 shop to shop. But she did not see that, beyond those 
 who attended to her wants, and took their pay for 
 doing so, she won from none a second glance ; nor 
 that when, by Ben's advice, she sent the horses to a 
 near-by livery and ordered her packages sent to " The 
 Barracks' carriage," the effect was not obsequiousness 
 from the merchants, as she had expected, but the fact, 
 accentuated by her many orders, that thus she made 
 herself and the outfit well known. 
 
 Thus when on Saturday the carriages, the brake, and 
 the three-seated surrey whirled down the street, the 
 leading team was at once recognized. The visitors in 
 those vehicles were bent on a holiday and were hilarious. 
 The young men swarmed from their seats before the 
 horses were well stopped; the shops were raided; 
 melons, peaches and candy boxes were flung into the 
 carriages. The laughter was too loud, the cheeks of 
 the hostess were too red, her manner was exuberant. 
 
 Alice was amongst the loudest as they took the long 
 way out by well-kept homes and green hedges and 
 long lawns and stately trees. People were on their 
 porches or sauntering down the street or coming from 
 late drives; the hour served to render The Barracks' 
 party conspicuous, as they drove homeward, making
 
 ii4 Jenifer 
 
 the way gay with calls from carriage to carriage, with 
 words of strange slang and catches of new choruses. 
 The cool of the valleys they dipped into, the beat of 
 the wind when they breasted the hill, the shine of the 
 sunset beyond the peaks, and the low lights stealing 
 across the fields were but strange notes accentuating 
 their freedom. 
 
 A young woman, bare-headed, white-gowned, and 
 clear of eyes, holding the reins in a skilful hand, pulled 
 out of their way and sat without a turn of her head as 
 the cavalcade swept noisily by; and it passed many 
 others men from the mountains jogging homeward, 
 women and children going slowly, or a smart buggy 
 whirling by. The country people were abroad on 
 Saturday errands for mail, buying, and meeting. 
 
 It could not have been worse for the new owners of 
 The Barracks. Jenifer's aloofness, his attention to his 
 own affairs, and his reported skill with land and stock 
 had been the strongest appeal he could have made to 
 the world beyond his gates. 
 
 The preacher of the nearest church had driven in to 
 see him; the politician most anxious for recruits had 
 made his way down that long lane: and both were 
 grateful for Jenifer's quiet welcome, his clear speech, 
 and his power of steady, alert listening. 
 
 The preacher had begged aid for neighborliness 
 from one in his church he knew to be influential, and 
 hoped would prove kind. 
 
 He had waited one sunny Sabbath till the last teams 
 had whirled out from the shadowing oaks and only one 
 carriage waited near the door. By that he stood. Be-
 
 Jenifer 115 
 
 hind him the sexton was closing the heavy shutters 
 upon the week's long stillness in the aisles. 
 
 " Mrs. Moran," the preacher interjected, " we have 
 some new neighbors." 
 
 " We have many," corrected the listener, with an 
 accent which was not favorable. 
 
 " Yes, yes." He nodded slowly. " But these 
 The Barracks' people, you know," he blurted nervously. 
 Mrs. Moran sat silent. " I don't think we are kind 
 enough to these newcomers." 
 
 " My dear sir," declared Mrs. Moran whimsically, 
 " if we were, we should find no time for lifelong friends." 
 
 " Oh, it's not so bad as that. You seem to like the 
 Markens well enough. They are from Chicago." 
 
 " He hunts." 
 
 The minister laughed. He knew that was passport. 
 " Perhaps Jenifer hunts." 
 
 "Hm!" said the lady with pursed lips. 
 
 " Or could." 
 
 " That's another matter," quickly. " My dear sir, 
 half the country is in the hands of strangers. From 
 the north, the west, and England we are invaded. 
 Fiction," scornfully, " and advertisement ! Fiction 
 has done more to sell real estate in the state than all 
 the advertisements will ever do. We prefer to be less 
 known. And " her pretended haughtiness instantly 
 disappearing " to cultivate each other." 
 
 " But these people at The Barracks, I wish you 
 knew them," the minister insisted. 
 
 His listener tapped her carriage with an impatient 
 foot; but the preacher was an enthusiast. He had
 
 ii6 Jenifer 
 
 something to say about his own impression of Jenifer 
 and he knew how to plead in other places than the pulpit. 
 
 The lady looked up with laughing eyes when he 
 ended. " Tie your horse to the back of the carriage," 
 she commanded, " and get in and drive home to dinner 
 with me. I couldn't persuade a soul to come to-day. 
 They said it was too hot," she shook her gray head. 
 " If you will, I'll I'll go," she promised suddenly. 
 
 But it was not easy for her to do. It had been long 
 since Mrs. Moran's wheels whirled down that lane; 
 and she recalled slow jaunts, mad races, long walks, 
 and low talks as the carriage rolled on. Her heart 
 had ached to tenderness when she came out across 
 the crested field, and, for the hour at least, the door 
 of her liking swung on its hinges; but as the horses 
 swept under the apple-trees and into the circling lane 
 she gasped. 
 
 Under the big mountain-ash at the far side of the 
 lawn stood a table; a siphon was on it, and dark bottles 
 lay in the grass. Chairs were tilted back by bareheaded, 
 bare-armed loungers. A young man lay full length 
 on the ground puffing the smoke of his cigarette in the 
 face of a young woman who leaned above him. Men 
 and women were sitting on the ground. Two tossed 
 a ball from hand to hand and shrieked at their failures. 
 Some one picked on a banjo and half the crowd was 
 shouting the refrain to the music, and a man and woman 
 romped in time across the yard. 
 
 Beneath that tree had been built a bench. She, 
 the comer in the carriage, and the child and woman 
 she had loved, the dead, had found it a dear lounging-
 
 Jenifer 117 
 
 place, a corner for whispered confidences and peeps 
 into one another's heart. 
 
 " Drive to the stable, and turn around," Mrs. Moran 
 whispered fiercely. " Fast ! Ah, there is Mr. Jenifer," 
 a sigh of relief at seeing some way out of the difficulty. 
 " Wait ! " as the driver turned the wheels, " I will 
 speak to him. Mr. Jenifer," as Jenifer came instantly 
 and courteously to the carriage and her sweeping 
 glance took in his tall and straight-hipped figure, his 
 ease of bearing, his steady eyes. " Mr. Jenifer " 
 breathlessly and persuasively " we have been hearing 
 much much about your stock ; and and it's a hobby 
 of mine cattle, horses ; both. I thought " with 
 easier manner of affability "I would drive in and 
 see; and maybe there are some you you would be 
 willing to part with." 
 
 Jenifer's look and words spoke pleased assent. 
 
 " It's a hobby of mine," she repeated, with a nervous 
 glance over her shoulder. Stillness was on the lawn. 
 Alice had risen to her feet and stood hesitant. " We 
 have some fine stock on our own place. Jerseys, we 
 keep; I hear you lean towards Holsteins. Would you 
 show them to me ? That is," a trifle haughtily, " if you 
 could leave your guests." 
 
 Jenifer smiled and held out his hand for her assist- 
 ance. He had no more liking for that crowd beneath 
 the tree than had his visitor and no more desire to 
 invade it. " This way," he said, turning his back 
 toward the yard. 
 
 " Drive back by the orchard and wait for me there, 
 outside the gate." Mrs. Moran whispered it as she
 
 n8 Jenifer 
 
 followed Jenifer, but her tone and eyes forbade her 
 driver to misunderstand. 
 
 " Where are the cattle ? " she asked quickly, as he 
 closed the gate behind them. " The pasture used to be 
 in the valley behind the quarters." 
 
 " It is now. We have changed little." 
 
 " I don't know," with a rapid glance towards the 
 high water-tower; but Mrs. Moran could not fail to 
 see that the man who now ruled the place loved it. 
 
 She had intended to take the circuit back of the 
 quarters and by the pasture and around the garden in 
 a quarter of an hour. An hour had passed before she 
 put foot on her carriage step. 
 
 She had talked cattle to her heart's content and 
 found a listener as enthusiastic as herself and wiser. 
 She had seen Jerseys finer than her own, and she was 
 half-convinced of the values of the Holstein; she had 
 stood by the paddock railing and listened to the pedi- 
 gree of the colts, and named one which she begged 
 Jenifer to exhibit at the show next year. She had come 
 up by the graveyard, and when she saw its careful 
 keeping the warm words with which she thanked Jenifer 
 came from an impulsive heart, bringing a mist before 
 her eyes and a flush to Jenifer's cheek. 
 
 The grasp she gave Jenifer's hand at the carriage 
 door was cordial ; but her order to drive on was spoken 
 quickly, and " Faster " she commanded when out of 
 hearing and " Faster " again, as they sped towards 
 the woods. 
 
 The trees behind her, Mrs. Moran summed up the 
 hour. " I went to make a call," she told the preacher,
 
 Jenifer 119 
 
 " and I bought a cow; and I shall never go again." 
 And the preacher knew that he need not plead. 
 
 The life which had thrown out a tentacle towards 
 The Barracks shrank from it. Swift horses and tele- 
 phone lines bridged the distances between warm hearts 
 inside the scattered houses, and there was gay life 
 across the hills : but Alice and Jenifer had missed 
 a share of it.
 
 XIII 
 
 THE difficulty with the electric light was overcome. 
 A wire ran up the smooth side of the water-tower, 
 and circled its crest with a ring of points which, at night, 
 were glowing, brilliant jets of white fire, flaring into 
 the dark and hanging like a crown from heaven above 
 the hills. 
 
 Jenifer loved it. At dusk, under the midnight, at 
 pale dawn, to him it was a visible, yet mystical, sign 
 of blessing. It lighted the hills for his joy; and was 
 his one tawdry whim. 
 
 But if the stars shone for him, and he had set a circlet 
 of their similes above him, the light dipped low for 
 some down by the Chowan. 
 
 The little teacher had given up her school. She 
 would not even look, at dusk, down the wide level 
 road where the dim light of the short days lingered. 
 Beyond the curve and the woods a man worked in the 
 field, she knew; and the laughter of the children troop- 
 ing home hurt, because she could not echo it. 
 
 She was learned in the lore of her state. She knew 
 the boasts it had begun to make. She read the women's 
 columns concerning chickens and squabs, ducks and 
 bulbs. She saw the promise of sudden wealth which 
 blossomed nowhere else as in print; and it was fine
 
 Jenifer 121 
 
 irony to recall that she might labor earnestly for a 
 year and yet lose by one night's robbery from her roost 
 the precious fowls she had reared. Or to remember 
 that if her muscles had ached to exhaustion over 
 her small fruit rows the berries would have been 
 mush before that slow train had put them at any mar- 
 ket: and to recall that such things, allure one as they 
 might, need first strength, then time. All she had of 
 either was first her mother's. 
 
 It was useless to read what fold land such as hers 
 would bring when none could be hired to work it; or 
 to understand that the peanut, planted for many years 
 for the children's pleasure, was becoming the staple 
 crop of the county, and a paying one. Who would 
 run her furrows ? 
 
 The land lay about her. Its riches were for those who 
 bore the master sign of strength; and till by such they 
 were transmuted her acres ran to sedge and swamp 
 and waste. 
 
 She must tend her mother, grown an invalid. She 
 must cook and milk; build fires and clean the house; 
 she must chop wood sometimes and work the garden 
 when she could. She must spend half the year in find- 
 ing a negro to work her land on shares, and the other 
 half in urging him to make enough to pay taxes and 
 give them food. What did the laborer care ? He had 
 always enough. Were he hungry there was plenty 
 abroad for fingers that picked not too honestly. She 
 must look at empty rafters where meat should have 
 hung, and do without. 
 
 But there was a breath of colirage in the girl which
 
 122 Jenifer 
 
 was never beaten out. When she failed she laughed ; 
 and when her strength went out of her suddenly as 
 sometimes it would she knew it would come again. 
 So that when the ax fell one day out of her inert hands 
 she sat down on a log and leaned back against the rough 
 stacked wood, her hands clasped about her knees, and 
 laughed softly, though her face was white and her 
 figure limp. 
 
 When Jack Harrell came around the corner of the 
 house she laughed the more. " I couldn't get up to 
 save my life," she excused her attitude. 
 
 " You needn't," he said shortly. " What have you 
 been doing ? Bess ! " as he saw the hacked wood and 
 fallen ax. 
 
 " We have got to have a fire. You don't expect us 
 to freeze with wood in the yard ; or for me to let mother 
 sit there by the hearth and not a stick on the andirons. 
 No, indeed," she cried with sudden spirit. 
 
 " Where is Joe ? " naming the man who should 
 have been working on the place. 
 
 " He's sleeping by day and 'possum hunting by 
 night, as near as I can make out." 
 
 " He hasn't left ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! but his work is done, most of it ; and the 
 rest doesn't matter to him." 
 
 " He gets his own firewood for supplying yours ? " 
 
 Bess reached a hand behind her to touch the stack. 
 " He thinks this enough." 
 
 " It isn't. It isn't what he agreed to do, either. He 
 was to cut it. I shall see Joe to-morrow. You are not 
 to do this again. I shall come myself and see and
 
 Jenifer 123 
 
 see " Bess was smiling roguishly. " Oh, I know 
 I can't watch you; and you will do what you want to." 
 
 " What I have to do," she interrupted gravely. " Don't 
 fuss over what can't be helped. How did you come ? " 
 
 " Walked," shortly. 
 
 " Oh, that is why I didn't hear you. You " 
 
 " Cut across fields. Your mother was asleep, and 
 I came to find you." 
 
 " Here I am," she leaned forward, and looked up 
 at him from beneath her lashes; " and not worth a 
 sixpence," she added saucily. " Jack," with sudden 
 vehemence, " there are ten commandments, ten. I 
 keep them every one with their ' Thou shalts ' and 
 their ' Thou shalt nots,' all but one, and that 
 Envy, you know. No, I don't want my neighbor's 
 possessions. I am glad it names the things we must 
 not envy, oxen and servants and goods within our 
 neighbor's gates; because there are some other things 
 my neighbor has and I have not, and if they were meant 
 I should be the worst sinner of all. 
 
 " I stopped by 'Liza's house the other day and saw 
 her arms, great splendid muscles, rising and falling; 
 and she, with the sweat rolling down her face, singing, 
 delighting in her work. If I had such muscles, don't 
 you think I'd work and be glad to ? and as it is " 
 She held out her slender wrists tragically. 
 
 Jack caught them, and kissed them each between 
 the palms and the loose-fitting cuffs. Bess did not 
 hear the exclamation beneath his breath. 
 
 " Bess, if your mother " 
 
 " Don't speak of her. You know how it is."
 
 124 Jenifer 
 
 " And mine were not so unreasonable. " 
 
 " You might as well suppose anything," said Bess, 
 a trifle bitterly. She knew, as well as he, that nothing 
 would ever reconcile the households, neighbors who 
 had never agreed, who had jarred through a genera- 
 tion; and neither could be left alone. 
 
 " If they would but consent to live pleasantly to- 
 gether! It would be the best thing to make them," 
 he added savagely. 
 
 " I should not like to try." 
 
 " Sometimes you can be too thoughtful of others." 
 
 " Not of mothers." But Bess might have told which 
 mothers she thought need most care, those who cling 
 and must be clung to, like hers; or who order and will 
 be obeyed, like Harrell's. 
 
 " One must think of himself," vowed Jack vehemently. 
 " Bess, for you to live like this, while I I cannot do 
 without you so long. I had thought " 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 "You do not; not half, not half, I tell you. How 
 can I go on living without you, and thinking of you 
 here doing things things like this ? " 
 
 The anger in his eyes died at her wistful smile. Her 
 bonnet had slipped back from her head and hung about 
 her neck, her face peeping from it like a rose that slipped 
 its sheath. Her blue eyes were warm and loving and 
 hopeful. 
 
 " Oh," the man groaned, " I knew you would never 
 see it; nor anything else but what you call your duty," 
 he added bitterly. 
 
 Bess slipped her slender work-hardened hand in
 
 Jenifer 125 
 
 his. Jack remembered when the touch of it had been 
 soft as a rose petal against his palm. " It won't always 
 be this way, Jack," she assured, the pink on her cheek 
 at the thought of what that other way would be. 
 
 " No." Harrell leaned nearer, his gaze sweeping 
 her drooped face and bent figure. " No, I couldn't 
 bear it; and I won't." He dropped her hands, and 
 stood up. " I am going to chop this wood. You should 
 not have touched it." 
 
 " We must have supper, sir," she flashed. 
 
 " Then you go and cook it." He laughed as he 
 looked down at her. 
 
 " If you will stay. Will you ? " She had sprung to 
 her feet, and her hands were clasped before her. Her 
 voice was coaxing, her glance pleading; laughing, too. 
 
 " Not to-night." 
 
 " Oh," with a little sigh ; and she turned away, pulling 
 at the strings of her bonnet as she went. 
 
 " Bess ! " Harrell strode by her side, " You want 
 me ? " he asked inanely, for the sake of hearing her 
 say that she did. 
 
 But Bess did not tell him. She looked up at him 
 with a glance that was as swift as the gleam of a bird's 
 wing. 
 
 " If you will not put yourself to any trouble," the 
 man began to temporize. 
 
 " No," she assured him gravely. 
 
 " And have just what you and your mother would 
 have had." 
 
 Then Bess laughed ; she was sure of her guest. 
 
 " Be careful," she cautioned when he came into the
 
 126 Jenifer 
 
 kitchen with an armful of wood. " You said mother 
 was asleep. Don't wake her. Wait, let me run up 
 and see." 
 
 She tiptoed back again. " Sound ! And it's the 
 best thing in the world for her. She slept so little last 
 night." 
 
 Harrell, after a look around, picked up the water 
 bucket and filled it at the shallow well. He set the 
 tea-kettle on the stove, and crowded the grate with 
 wood. " Now," he vowed, " I shall see you have 
 enough wood to last till Joe gets home." 
 
 " You expect to earn your supper, sir ? " 
 
 " I do," calmly; but Jack still lingered. The fire 
 was crackling, the light leaping out, the kitchen dusky 
 in its corners. Through the pantry door he could see 
 Bess heaping the deep wooden tray with flour. 
 
 " Supper will be ready before you are," she warned 
 demurely; and he turned away. 
 
 When he had come back, and piled the wood softly 
 in the box, the kitchen was too alluring. Bess worked 
 by the table. A ring of white biscuit with a dimple 
 in the exact centre of each lay around the wooden tray, 
 and the dimple was the impress of her thumb. 
 
 " I wish you would make me a little biscuit," he 
 begged, his eyes full of laughter as he watched the deft 
 play of her swift fingers. 
 
 " You ! " scornfully, as she manipulated the dough, 
 flouring it and her pink palms alike. 
 
 " I always thought they would be nice." 
 
 " Thought ! Haven't you had them, lots of them ? " 
 
 " Not one."
 
 Jenifer 127 
 
 " When you were a a little boy ? Your mother 
 made them for you ? " 
 
 Jack almost lied when he saw the indignation of 
 her eyes. " Well never enough," he temporized. 
 
 " I shall make you six ! " she vowed gaily. 
 
 " With a dimple right in the middle of each ? " 
 
 Bess whirled. " Go along," she cried, as she brought 
 one floury finger smartly down his cheek. 
 
 When the bread was done, the coffee hot, the ham 
 sliced, and the honey set out, with the butter by its 
 side, then the lamplight fell on those two alone and 
 the man stumbled awkwardly over the grace the girl 
 bade him repeat. 
 
 How could he be thankful when the very soul of 
 him was bitter ? When his prayer was not thanks- 
 giving but a wild plea : " Lord, in Thy might 
 make it possible: bring her to my keeping; grant me 
 to see her thus always, by my board; and soon 
 soon!" 
 
 He saw the tremble of her fingers upon the cups 
 and the flutter of her long lashes when she laughed 
 across at him. And this might be always were it not 
 for their poverty. 
 
 His mother bemoaned that she and her daughter 
 must live upon a farm. She had been bitten by fever 
 for the town since she had visited the daughter who 
 lived in one. Money would send her, make her satis- 
 fied, and leave him free. The desire for it had begun 
 to embitter his life; and he knew that work as he might 
 the labor of his hands would never support a household 
 a hundred miles away and also that of his own for which
 
 128 Jenifer 
 
 he longed and the thought of which alone made the 
 present bearable. 
 
 With this maddening thought was twisted the knowl- 
 edge that riches greater than any the county knew had 
 once been in his grasp; that down in the solemn woods 
 which had been his was wealth great as that the moun- 
 tains held; and the gain of them had enriched another. 
 Harrell's brooding upon it did him no good. 
 
 He had never spoken what he thought; but now, 
 looking across the table, " Bess," he exclaimed bitterly, 
 " if I had not been such a fool, if I had had sense enough 
 to know for myself what Jenifer found out, all that 
 that would have been ours. It ought to be. I should 
 have it now. He should have told me. It was it 
 was the deed of a thief. I have been robbed ; robbed, 
 I say," he declared more vehemently than he should 
 have spoken. 
 
 " No." Bess was white at sight of his agitation. 
 " No, you can't say that. It is not true." 
 
 " It is. I know what it is. God, it has come to the 
 point where I can't bear to see the cars piled with that 
 stuff come out of the woods. I feel If he had but 
 told me. We would have shared, somehow. But to 
 take it all! And for me to let it go! May the Lord 
 forgive me my stupidity, I never can." 
 
 " But that's not right, Jack; it's not right. What 
 more could you do ? How could you have known ? " 
 
 " I should have." It was the final word, the crystaj- 
 lization of what he felt. In long hours of hard work he 
 had threshed it out. Jenifer had robbed him. Jenifer 
 had known the value of the land when he bought it;
 
 Jenifer 129 
 
 and whatever the law of the country might be a higher 
 law denied such trickery. 
 
 The thought cut into Harrell deep. He was sore 
 for his own loss; and more because he might have saved 
 the woman he loved her hardships, had he been more 
 vigilant. As the price of his stupidity she lived the 
 life she did, while his own was bare and his heart 
 ached for lack of her. 
 
 " Jack," she said, slipping around to his chair, her 
 hand like a feather on his shoulder. " You must not 
 think of it so. It is not right. It is " 
 
 " God," was wrung from him, " it is hard." 
 
 " What ? This ? " laughing softly, and stooping to 
 peep into his face. 
 
 " This ? No, Bess," pulling her fiercely down to 
 him. " I must have you, I am mad because I cannot." 
 Bess nestled still for a moment, the touch of her easing 
 the ache in his heart. Then she was on her feet. 
 
 " Dear me, the cows must be fed, the chicken-house 
 locked. Jack will you I wish you would do it," 
 she asked breathlessly, her face turned from him, 
 "I " her hands trembled on the china "I must 
 wash these dishes." 
 
 Harrell stumbled out of the room. When he came 
 back the table was cleared. Bess stood in the door 
 and her eyes were as steady as the stars. 
 
 " Must you go ? " she asked, as he spoke thickly of 
 haste and things waiting to be done. " Then I am 
 going to walk with you to the gate." 
 
 " You are not afraid to come back alone ? " Harrell 
 asked anxiously. " It is nearly dark."
 
 130 Jenifer 
 
 " Not a bit," assured Bess gaily. 
 
 " You ought to lock the doors and windows fast as 
 soon as it is night." 
 
 " I do. They are fastened now, all but this." Bess 
 did not tell how often she shivered behind them. She 
 was afraid of her very shadow. 
 
 " Perhaps you had better not go," he insisted. Yet 
 Harrell longed for that saunter with her in the dusk. 
 
 " I will, sir." 
 
 They went slowly across the level, weed-grown 
 yard. Mulberries were set like marching soldiers 
 down the fence and around to the gate, their branches 
 meeting above it; and their yellow leaves were blown 
 abroad. The moon, swinging above the swamp, made 
 long shadows of the house and chimney-tops, and of 
 the trees beside the gate. 
 
 Harrell closed it behind him, and leaned on its bars 
 and looked down at her. 
 
 The waving shadows of the mulberries were not 
 altogether bare. The mistletoe clustered thick in the 
 branches, their shadows blurred upon the leaf-strewn 
 grass. Harrell looked up suddenly, and then across 
 at the girl's face; and in a second he had caught the 
 little shawl Bess had flung about her head, and held 
 it at either side, her sunny head prisoned within. So, 
 he kissed her. The mistletoe above them was his 
 pretended excuse. 
 
 " That is no reason," Bess panted. " The mistletoe 
 grows here always." 
 
 " So do kisses," the young man said.
 
 XIV 
 
 ALICE followed the gay crowd to the city, and flitted 
 home but again too leave it. She filled the house with 
 a Christmas party which was gayer than her summer 
 guests: and again was gone. 
 
 Jenifer, seeing that she missed much which he had 
 expected of her and taking her moods with masculine 
 wonder, let her have her way. 
 
 The remoteness, the stillness and the sounds that 
 broke it, the short bitter days and the long black nights 
 had been to Alice unendurable. The rutty, bemired 
 roads shut her to the house; and if she would sec Grame, 
 she must make opportunity. The guests and her com- 
 ings and goings had snapped the intimacy of rides 
 and chance meetings. Alice's following of the crowd 
 had been half in instinctive defense from a budding 
 danger; and temptation lurked in the desolation left 
 behind. The woman fled. 
 
 Jenifer and Wheatham were ashamed to find that 
 their days had thus been simplified. Each in his blun- 
 dering fashion had reached out to aid her, and both 
 had failed; Wheatham chiefly because he had come 
 again to the absorption of inspiration and interpre- 
 tation, Jenifer because of the happy vigor of his life, 
 his silent strength, and that new fascination which 
 claimed the hours he spent within the house. 
 131
 
 132 Jenifer 
 
 Her going left each free to follow his own way, 
 Wheatham to his table and the wistful look towards 
 the peaks when fancy flowed too sluggishly; Jenifer 
 to the joy of the hills in storm and sleet and drifting 
 rain, in clear cold, or folding mists when all the world 
 in sight was his. 
 
 If Alice fretted against the loneliness of her life here 
 and if she were happier for a while at her girlhood's 
 home, Jenifer's indulgence abetted her. His sense of 
 protection made him excuse her to Wheatham. 
 
 " She doesn't like it up here in winter, you see. I 
 suppose it is well, cut-off like to her. She has been 
 used to the city. If she were fond of anything to do 
 now," he added helplessly, " sewing or reading. 
 There are books enough, heaven knows." They were 
 in the library. " If she were, it might it would be 
 different. All the women I have ever known were busy 
 enough," he floundered. " The only trouble seemed 
 to be they could never find time to do all the things 
 they wanted to do. Still Oh, well ; it doesn't matter, 
 you know. I want her to do what she likes best," he 
 declared stoutly. 
 
 Wheatham, in truth, had begun to feel disdain of the 
 listless figure, the dull eyes, and drooping mouth. To 
 have only Jenifer's vigorous content as companion to 
 his dreaming mood was ideal. 
 
 " Well, things are different from what you have 
 mostly seen," he began carelessly and cynically. " A 
 woman used to be compelled to work in order to have 
 the things she wanted. Now she need not. What is 
 the use of sewing when some one is waiting and anxious
 
 Jenifer 133 
 
 to do it for you and when you can get half the things 
 you want already made ? And pickles and preserves 
 are standing on the store shelves waiting to be bought. 
 
 " Fact is, woman has been talking emancipation for 
 so many years that she's got it, only not just the sort 
 she expected," he chuckled gracelessly. " Still she's 
 free, if she pleases. And what is she doing with her 
 freedom ? She quotes man as example. The work of 
 the world has so divided into lines that he has got to 
 leave the crossings and keep to one, and trot a pretty 
 good pace on that one, too. For what ? Bread and 
 meat, my boy." Wheatham was enjoying his mono- 
 logue hugely; and it served the purpose of diverting 
 their thoughts from personalities. " Bread and meat; 
 and never were they harder worked for. But woman ! 
 Man, what is she going to do with the thing she has 
 fought through two generations for? As far as I can 
 see those who fought hardest, the leaders, battled for 
 a purpose. They knew what they wanted, where they 
 had been restricted. But all these idle sisters in their 
 train ! 
 
 ' ' In the sweat of thy brow,' " added Wheatham 
 dreamily, turning in his chair to watch the fire, " ' In 
 the sweat of thy brow ' God knew the blossom he 
 put beside the thorn. The Creator's high and un- 
 written promise which follows on that vow is, ' So 
 doing man shall find joy.' 
 
 " Happiness," the monologue went fitfully on, " the 
 world-old, world-wide quest. I found its secret long 
 ago. Do you want to hear it ? " he leaned forward 
 eagerly and peered through the cloud of smoke at
 
 134 Jenifer 
 
 Jenifer. " It is to do the work you long to do, to 
 breathe the breath of your life into it, to see it live. 
 Just now," he added with a touch of cynicism, " one 
 must be sure that the Public wants it and will pay 
 for it." He threw himself back in his chair. His 
 quick look at Jenifer was searching. Wheatham was 
 not used to talking freely, and he had been saying some 
 things he meant; not talking, as at first, merely for 
 effect. 
 
 One tie, and a strong one, between them was that 
 neither he nor the man who listened needed to beat out 
 their thoughts with speech; but that each, divining 
 somewhat of the other, was willing to leave that other 
 to development. 
 
 Jenifer, his head thrown back against the cushions 
 of the chair and his long limbs straight before him, 
 was listening silently. The undrawn curtain left in 
 view the moon-flooded and untrodden lane with the 
 drifted fences and snow-cushioned stile. The settling 
 of the snow and the snapping of laden branches made 
 sharp and sibilant sound. 
 
 " Tough tramping to-day ? " asked Wheatham, as he 
 glanced like Jenifer through the clear-paned windows. 
 
 " Tough ? " Jenifer laughed. The sting of the snow 
 upon his face, the settling of it upon his shoulders, the 
 sight of the veil drifting down the valley and shutting 
 out the mountains, Jenifer had not called it " tough." 
 He had been thinking, as he silently watched the racing 
 flames, of the mystic peaks which guarded the mountain 
 world like gleaming pickets against the moonlit sky 
 and of the sheltered cattle, the housed horses; an<?
 
 Jenifer 135 
 
 remembering how, flaring out across the snow, the 
 circling lights shone about the tower. 
 
 Living the breath of life alone seems enough 
 for some. Was it thus, taking God's daily gifts, He 
 meant life to be ? If so, man has wandered. Such fret 
 of fear, such tangle of planning, such piling of breaks 
 between him and disasters which never blow, till all 
 his strength has gone in futile work, and that which 
 should have been done with unvexed mind and skilful 
 hand is forever marred, or left untouched. 
 
 But Jenifer lived, splendidly, freely, with a hint of 
 broader life and a possibility of firmer grasp. Wheatham 
 had become aware of the roundness of the man's thought 
 and its completeness; and how he envied the quality 
 Jenifer could not guess. 
 
 The artist got up lazily, and walked to a book-shelf, 
 fingering the volumes upon it. " Half the time I read," 
 he said carelessly, " I don't care what it is. Something 
 to carry the mind easily along the story's train is all I 
 want, something to ease its own thinking, something 
 Pshaw ! I want to hear the birds sing and see the sun 
 shine, and know that this old world is moving right 
 when I read. As for this pulling out of the heart's strings 
 to hear them twang Lord, deliver me ! 
 
 " Half the time a man himself couldn't tell why he 
 did a thing. A hundred reasons, or the total of them 
 all, might move him. Yet the man who writes a tale 
 is wont to insist on only one and that the purpose of 
 the story; while many a thread is tangled to make the 
 cord. Thank God, the unravelling is not mine. It 
 is hard enough to paint a face, but words Lord 1
 
 136 Jenifer 
 
 " As for you, man," moving restlessly, coming back 
 to the table and leaning across it and laughing at Jeni- 
 fer's lazy content, " as for you, or what you would do 
 at some unexpected moment, I wouldn't give a guess, 
 a hint; nor could you." 
 
 " No," said Jenifer, flushing under the scrutiny, 
 " nor care. What's the use of thinking about it ? Sets 
 you wool-gathering. Have another smoke." 
 
 In some such fashion the evenings went. Quiet 
 often; words, sometimes; long silences! To Jenifer 
 the winter slipped by like a single magic day. Before 
 he had learned its moods the haze was on the mountains 
 and the green crept through the Valleys. 
 
 " I must tell Alice she ought to be here. She is miss- 
 ing all this," he declared enthusiastically. Wheatham 
 was following him out of the dining-room. The door 
 of the wide hall was open. The spring-like air blew 
 through, and Jenifer paused for a moment at the door 
 which opened towards the quarters. Blue were the 
 peaks, purplish blue. Bees were humming in the 
 warm air; fowls clucking in the yard. *' I must tell 
 her," he repeated. 
 
 " When ? " asked Wheatham with quizzical look. 
 Jenifer's decisions were sudden and curious. The 
 artist found himself looking for them, and weighing 
 them when they came with an amusement which was 
 sometimes mixed with astonishment. 
 
 " To-day will do. Everything will be out in no time. 
 She will miss it all if I don't." 
 
 Wheatham recalled the last intelligence of her. The 
 theatre, a dance, new clothes, gay notes, all of them,
 
 Jenifer 137 
 
 and sounding of the street. How would these weigh, 
 with her, against the blossoming of the spring jessamine 
 or the budding of the lilacs in the hedge ? 
 
 " To-day," dreamily, " right now." Jenifer walked 
 rapidly up the hall. He stopped by the telephone. 
 
 " Better wait till the roads are settled," warned 
 Wheatham quickly as he followed. 
 
 " The carriage can get in easily enough. Ben can 
 drive slowly." 
 
 " You are not going to call her up now ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " Jenifer saw before him always the 
 one thing which he would do, and he was hindered by no 
 doubt of it. He was ringing the telephone while he 
 answered. Wheatham lingered to listen amusedly. 
 
 What he heard was sufficiently simple. The protests 
 were from the other end of the wire. The directions 
 from this end were explicit: and the date and hour 
 selected were of that day. 
 
 " Think of staying in the city such a time as this. 
 Man, she ought to see it," with a broad sweep of his 
 hand. The men were on the porch. " The orchard 
 will be in bloom soon," added Jenifer. " Lord, I pity 
 those who miss it." 
 
 So did Wheatham; but he pitied, also, the woman 
 who saw it perforce and missed its significance. The 
 artist's quick nature stirred with sympathy for her 
 restlessness when Alice had come. That swaying figure 
 which paced the halls and loitered at the doors and 
 hung from out the windows, and found nothing satisfy- 
 ing from any loophole of her view, was like a weight 
 upon his fancy. He found himself waiting for calm upon
 
 138 Jenifer 
 
 her face before there could be quiet of his pulses and 
 freedom of his thought: and none came; instead, he 
 felt a watchful consciousness of her which he detested. 
 
 He wondered at his dismay when he saw her cross 
 the yard one morning to intercept Grame. So far the 
 Englishman had kept to himself; but Alice made the 
 move boldly. 
 
 Sunshine of March was about her and it was warm 
 and sweet, with blue sky far above her head and soft 
 airs to woo. Wheatham, through his open door, saw, 
 as always, the notes, the hints of something the woman 
 might have been but never was; and he berated him- 
 self for his distrust when her high voice carried to his 
 ears. 
 
 Alice asked about her horse; Grame answered briefly. 
 Was the horse in the stable ? Had the winds dried the 
 roads ? Were they fit for riding ? She would try them 
 anyhow; could he go? She named the hour when she 
 would be ready. 
 
 Then the light laugh which ended all her speeches! 
 Why had it always rung false to Wheatham? He 
 leaned back in his chair to watch her as she walked; 
 tall, easy of movement, past-mistress in the art of gown- 
 ing; and the sunny yard, the waving shadows of 
 budding branches across it What was amiss with 
 it and with him? Untuned, lowered from the key of 
 his work, his fingers lay inert. 
 
 Jenifer, that night, vowed that Alice must ride every 
 day. Her cheeks were already rosy. Soon she would 
 be sunburned and strong. He himself would go with 
 her; if he did not, Grame could. But Jenifer's intentions
 
 Jenifer 139 
 
 settled, through carelessness on his part and purpose 
 on hers, into non-fulfilment. The routine was of the 
 summer the gallop, the twilight, and the hour of 
 the day. 
 
 Now her rides with Grame and her manner were 
 marked. Grame was neither overseer nor groom, and 
 his work was not typical. Although at first he had been 
 ready to assume the manner and garb of livery he was 
 quick, when not called upon to do either, to forget 
 them both. Ready to serve as he had been born and 
 bred, he was yet alert to the standards of a new land; 
 and he had recognized that she who ruled with careless 
 hands the house he served was yet of his own kind. 
 The strength of Jenifer's nature set him apart, above, 
 a master to be served; but Alice, glorified, perhaps, 
 by her setting and made shining by her garments, was 
 of his class. Worst of all, Grame loved her. 
 
 He had fought against it sullenly and weakly; and 
 had kept to his quarters when she returned. But Alice, 
 blindly determined upon something which would 
 amuse, had openly reinstated the order she herself 
 had been glad to escape. Once more begun, the old 
 way was easy, and more fatal. 
 
 The coquetry of her manner when their horses were 
 on the highroad, the something that he was none too 
 anxious to conceal when the long lane was between 
 him and the man he served, must be apparent; and 
 Alice ignored too utterly those passers-by who seemed 
 unobservant. 
 
 The thing wore an ugly tinge. Wheatham, who 
 divined it, and Ben, who knew, were desperate. They
 
 140 Jenifer 
 
 felt themselves traitors to Jenifer in his ignorance; and 
 they feared, with deadly fear, his faintest knowledge. 
 Wheatham, with no whimsical wonder now as to what 
 Jenifer would do, was sure only of the horror of what 
 it would be : and the artist's love and loyalty kept him 
 dumb till he felt he could bear it not an hour longer. 
 But then the end was near. 
 
 The riders came over the hill slowly one day at dusk. 
 The orchard's bloom had been scattered across the 
 grass; the locusts were white; the blossoms had died 
 from the lilacs; and green hedges and tall trees made 
 early darkness in the lane. 
 
 Alice slipped from her saddle and stood, her habit 
 tight-held about her, looking down at Grame. Fur- 
 rows of passionate perplexity were on her face; her 
 breath was a long heave at her breast. He, with one 
 searching look at the unlighted house and empty 
 yard, struck the horses sharply. Both, knowing the 
 careless customs of the house, thought themselves un- 
 seen. 
 
 " Wait a moment," begged Grame hoarsely. " You 
 have not said a word. I You have promised noth- 
 ing. Wait!" 
 
 Long as the way had been not half had been said. 
 The love that had been slow, at first, strangled, deflected, 
 that had shown but a glance or broken word, had, 
 fostered by the woman's coquetry, gone its way to 
 flood; and it had swept her with it. 
 
 Grame was mad in his earnestness and his urging. 
 Flight and England, he pleaded for; and Alice was as 
 mad as he. Lacking just scales and broad balance, she
 
 Jenifer 141 
 
 had coaxed herself to the belief that this alone was 
 love and that she had missed it and been defrauded. 
 
 The man's broken words were hoarse and low, the 
 lilacs thick, the shadows heavy. Jenifer, coming up 
 from the garden squares, turned that way and sauntered 
 by the hedge. He walked carelessly, light-heartedly; 
 and the young grass hushed his steps. 
 
 The tones of passion breathed through the branches 
 in his very ear. They were what the dusk, the evening 
 star, the perfume of the roses demanded ; but who would 
 have thought to hear them here ? To whom could such 
 words be spoken ? Jenifer was rigid with astonish- 
 ment, yet laughter twitched at his mouth. Then he 
 heard the voice that answered. 
 
 His leap was clear and clean. In one breath, one 
 heat of passion, Grame lay in the grass; and Alice, 
 Jenifer's hand upon her arm compelling her, sped to 
 the dark house, up the black stair, to her room. Jeni- 
 fer's touch flared the lights in the gaudy, tinselled room 
 which she had bedecked; and as he looked at her in 
 her fit setting Jenifer knew that the fancy he had taken 
 for love had fled. He loathed her. He despised the 
 white face and frightened eyes and whimpered assur- 
 ances of her innocence. He did not hear them. He 
 grasped the exact significance of what he heard, and 
 knew it for the sequel of the wiles by which he himself 
 had been won and others lured ; the end of a coquetry 
 which she had allowed, but whose climax she was too 
 weak to grasp. 
 
 " Stay here," he commanded without a glance at her 
 white horror.
 
 142 Jenifer 
 
 Wheatham was shouting his name in the hall. 
 " What is it ? " demanded Jenifer calmly, coming down 
 the stair. 
 
 "I The horses," Wheatham panted. " Is any 
 one hurt ? The horses came to the stable alone." 
 Wheatham cursed himself for his vehemence; but 
 pull himself together, or speak coherently, he could 
 not. His nerves had been too long on edge. He had 
 been leaning on the fence, watching the slow coming 
 of the night, when Ben ran up to him. 
 
 " De bosses in de stable; dey's loose dyar; de hosses 
 dey rode. An' de saddles on 'em. An' I don't see dat 
 man nowhars. Gawd's sake, Marse Wheatham, whar 
 is he? Whar is she? " And Wheatham had started 
 running to the house. He reiterated his question: 
 " Is any one hurt ? " 
 
 " He is dead, I think," said Jenifer clearly. 
 
 " God ! Where ? " 
 
 " In the lane," and at Wheatham's rush of steps 
 Jenifer turned aside. He flooded with light the hall, 
 the library, every wide room upon the floor; and he 
 was in the hall when Wheatham, shaking, stumbled up 
 the steps of the door which opened towards the quar- 
 ters. 
 
 " Well ? " demanded Jenifer sharply. 
 
 " He he " Wheatham gasped, his breath too 
 short for speech. 
 
 " He is dead, I hope." 
 
 " He is not. Have you no .sense ? " catching Jenifer 
 roughly by the shoulder. 
 
 The smile on Jenifer's face chilled Wheatham's
 
 Jenifer 143 
 
 fierceness. " Come in here," the master of the house 
 commanded. 
 
 The library had come to be Jenifer's room. He 
 took out his check-book now, filled one blank, an- 
 other. 
 
 " You will go to New York to-night," he said to 
 Wheatham evenly. " You will take him " 
 
 " The man is half-dead." 
 
 " You will take him with you. This " as if the 
 paper scorched him "is his; a year's wages. With 
 this take what you need. Buy his ticket. Pay every 
 expense. See him aboard the ship. Watch him sail. 
 If ever he puts foot on this side the ocean again I'll 
 kill him. If he should write to her, or seek to have 
 her join him, it will be both. Let him know." 
 
 " The man cannot be moved," began Wheatham 
 hotly. 
 
 Jenifer hushed him with a gesture. " The carriage 
 will be ready for you at the stables. You start from 
 there in fifteen minutes. You will catch the midnight 
 train. And " looking him squarely in the eyes, 
 " you will go." 
 
 Go! With that half-conscious man beside him, 
 with Ben ashy white in the starlight and his teeth chat- 
 tering, Wheatham obeyed. 
 
 The roll of wheels, ominous in the stillness of the 
 black night, was the last sound but the breath of the 
 wind that the old house heard for many an hour. 
 
 The servants, knowing little, slept. The woman 
 up-stairs, feelmg God knows what horror of remorse 
 or shame, slept also; but the wide doors were open,
 
 144 Jenifer 
 
 and, white and clear, the lights shone out into the night. 
 White, too, the crown of fire hung above the hills. 
 
 Jenifer went from room to room looking about him 
 steadily and slowly, the dark gleaming floors, the 
 red mahogany, the shining brass, the dim old portraits. 
 The breath of long living was in the house, the hint of 
 history, and the throb of passion. He loved it. But 
 for what had it stood for him ? For what did it stand ? 
 Treachery! Here had been born the passion whose 
 touch debased his ancestry. Here the woman who 
 was his had listened to the whisperings of dishonor. 
 As he had loved it, he hated it. The white flare of 
 light flickered red before him. If he had had any 
 knowledge of himself Jenifer would have feared his 
 own calm more than any whirl of furious rage. 
 
 He could sit and watch the stars. The locusts were 
 luxuries of perfume. A late narcissus gleamed like a 
 candle-flame dropped in the grass. An old and wasted 
 moon came up behind the peaks. Still Jenifer sat, 
 his arm on the window-ledge. A moan of midnight 
 wind stole through the hall, and a thin blue trail. 
 
 He never saw. Feathery and slow its fellows trailed 
 after it. Jenifer watched the shadows beneath the 
 hedge, the tall trees, the clearing light across the fields. 
 Dark, heavy, pungent, a smoke-column rolled through 
 the hall and house; crackling, hissing noises broke out; 
 the quarters, awakened from sleep, set up wild clamor 
 of confusion : and a shriek rang over the railing of the 
 stair. 
 
 From the tower Jenifer watched the dawn. In the
 
 Jenifer 145 
 
 dim duskiness he saw the servants huddled in the yard. 
 Dull smoke rolled above the house-walls and drifted 
 down about them. By him, above his head, the points 
 of light showed yellow in the coming day. The dawn 
 with long fingers stealing through the peaks plucked 
 at the darkness in the vale, and a bird called clear 
 across the fields; Jenifer, from his height, looked down 
 on what the night had hidden and the day lay bare.
 
 XV 
 
 " THERE is a letter on Mr. Wheatham's table." 
 Jenifer's voice was a deadly monotone. " See that he 
 gets it." 
 
 " Marse Jen'fah, Marse Jen'fah," Ben cried, his 
 fingers shaking on the harness he was pretending to 
 clean. The cotton jacket and jockey cap which Ben 
 affected gave to his ashy skin and rolling eyes a touch 
 of absurdity. " What is you gwine do now ? " he de- 
 manded, driven to bay by the horror of that night and 
 day. It had not been twenty-four hours since the 
 mistress of the house had come riding over the hill 
 with Grame. Now " What is you gwine do ? " Ben 
 again demanded. 
 
 " I ? " Jenifer stood in the dusky stable aisle. His 
 figure loomed tall and tense between the whitewashed 
 stalls. His eyes, dark and expressionless, gazed straight 
 ahead, over Ben's shoulder, and his face was as white 
 as the wash upon the walls. 
 
 " I ? " he repeated monotonously, his gaze so direct, 
 as if seeing something beyond the negro, that Ben, 
 shivering, turned to peer across the square of light at 
 the wide door. 
 
 " Lawd, Gawd-a-mlghty ! " the negro cried. " Dyar's 
 spooks all ovah dis place. I done heard tell o' dem 
 146
 
 Jenifer 147 
 
 hyar, but I nebbah seed 'em. I feels 'em now. De hot 
 air blow 'roun' me all de way up from de pastu', puff, 
 puff, right in my face, an' dat's de bref o' de ha'nts you 
 can't see. Sumpin done loose 'em hyar. Ise feard, 
 Marse Jen'fah, deed I is; Ise feard." 
 
 Jenifer stood with the sound of the negro's voice in 
 his ears, but he understood not a word. 
 
 " An' now " Ben stopped short. The harness 
 rattled to the floor, and the negro clung to the nearest 
 stall; but he could say not a word, Jenifer stood so 
 straight, and his face was set like a mask. All day Ben 
 had feared him worse than he feared the ha'nts. 
 
 The negro remembered that race, long past the 
 black still midnight, across the hills, jolting, jarring, 
 the red sparks flying beneath the horses' hoofs; and 
 the burst of far-away red flames that licked into the 
 sky. Ben knew where they burned. Through the 
 smoke's drifting, sometimes above it, he saw a crown 
 of fire shining serene and clear into the night. 
 
 He remembered his reeling horses in the lane; the 
 huddled servants in the yard; and, at Wheatham's 
 door, white, fear-stricken, Alice ! 
 
 Jenifer was nowhere; nowhere, though Ben's wild 
 gaze searched for him. 
 
 The negro's tongue had cloven to his mouth when 
 he stumbled over the carriage wheel. His leaden feet 
 would scarce drag him to the gate. The clang of it 
 behind him set his nerves jumping in his icy, fear- 
 paralyzed body; and close upon the sharp sound he 
 had heard a voice, clear and calm, and calling from 
 above.
 
 148 Jenifer 
 
 Ben fell to his knees: his shaking fingers coveted 
 his face. " Marse Jen'fah " was dead. His spirit 
 was calling. 
 
 " Ben ! " kindly and reassuringly, and a common- 
 place question was added. 
 
 Ben looked up to see Jenifer coming down the rungs 
 of the spiral stair ; but the negro was not a whit ashamed 
 of the terror he had felt. 
 
 And that day! The housing of the furniture that 
 had been sa-ved; the coming of awed neighbors, and 
 their futile offers of belated help ; Jenifer's calm mastery 
 of the household and of them; the fallen chimneys, 
 the reeling smoke; the low reckoning of damages the 
 neighbors made. The sturdy walls had well resisted. 
 Fallen chimneys were on one side, the roof toppled in 
 to ruin, floors scorched and blackened, windows burst; 
 and the acrid smoke filled yard and quarters, and 
 rolled beneath the stable rafters. 
 
 Ben had been at Jenifer's heels when he strode across 
 to the arcade before Wheatham's door and stood look- 
 ing at Alice cowering on the step which led to the artist's 
 room. 
 
 " I think you had better go home," Jenifer had 
 said. Alice had started at the word and the way in 
 which it had been used. Never before with Jenifer 
 had it meant any place but this. Now he had em- 
 phasized it meaningly. Her frightened eyes had sought 
 his and questioned him. " There is no way of making 
 you comfortable here," he had said coldly. 
 
 Ben had put the horses to the carriage which bore 
 the mistress of the house to the station. He had stood
 
 Jenifer 149 
 
 watching them, Jenifer straight on the seat and driv- 
 ing like the wind, and Alice, with face hidden be- 
 hind winding veils, huddled on the cushions behind 
 him. 
 
 Ben knew of the long stern silence between those 
 two. He did not know that it had been broken neither 
 on that gray, smoke-thickened dawn, nor in the clear 
 light that lay upon the long road; that there had been 
 neither accusation nor defence. Once Jenifer in that 
 interminable drive had turned to say: "You will 
 find money in the Calvert bank on which you can 
 draw," and he had named a sum which was twice 
 the value of the house the deed to which was hers. 
 " The interest of it is at your disposal," he had added 
 significantly. 
 
 Then, when Jenifer had returned, Ben had followed 
 him from field to pasture, from wood to paddock; 
 and there was a finality in Jenifer's directions which 
 had kept Ben dumb till this hour. 
 
 " Marse Jen'fah," he pleaded now, " whar is you 
 gwine ? " 
 
 Jenifer shook his head. " I don't know," he said 
 His voice was low and hoarse. 
 
 " You you gwine to stay ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Jes fer a little while ? You'll come back to-night ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " To-morrow ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Den Ise gwine too- Ise gwine stay hyar not a day 
 longer. I hates an' 'spises dis place," in sudden passion.
 
 150 Jenifer 
 
 " De ha'nts is aftah it, an' dey can hab it. Ise gwine 
 too." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 Ben was routed. " Some somewhar," he stam- 
 mered. 
 
 " Ben, do you want to go ? Are you tired of it ? " 
 Jenifer's inflectionless voice softened to kindly tones. 
 " Would you rather go back ? Leave ? Is it Do 
 you really want to go ? " 
 
 " Want to go away ? Want to go whar ? " Ben 
 fairly blubbered. " Ain't no place on Gawd's earth I 
 wants to be but hyar when you is hyar an' when 
 Gawd, Marse Jen'fah, ef you jes wouldn't look lak 
 dat!" 
 
 " Who would look after things ? and take care of 
 Hector and Dandy and Lady Blue ? " Jenifer's lips 
 twisted into a smile as he named Ben's favorites. " What 
 would become of them ? Wheatham will be here," he 
 added. " But if you don't want to stay " 
 
 " An' we was gwine enter Lady Blue fer de ribbon 
 dis fall ! She'd 'a' took it sho." 
 
 " There is no reason why you should not enter her." 
 
 " Who's gwine do it ? " Ben's flaming interest 
 burned out a fraction of his agony. 
 
 " You. Wheatham will tell you what to do." 
 
 " An' train her ? " Delight peeping out of the corner 
 of his eyes. 
 
 Jenifer nodded his assurance. 
 
 " Lawd ! " Ben's laugh was short. The sound of 
 it startled himself. " Who's gwine ride her ? " he 
 anxiously demanded.
 
 Jenifer 151 
 
 " I don't see why you shouldn't." 
 
 " Me ! " falling back against the stall, and his teeth 
 a shining row. " Ride Lady Blue at de show ! Go 
 'long, Marse Jen'fah. Guess ef I trains her I'll have 
 to train myse'f too. Ise gettin' fat dese days," he 
 chuckled. " Leas'ways I was," pulling a solemn face. 
 
 " Take good care of her and do the place and your- 
 self credit. And look out for Mr. Wheatham all you 
 can." Jenifer spoke absently, as if his thoughts were 
 far from his words. He took a step towards the door, 
 and caught Lightfoot's bridle in his hand. 
 
 Ben sprang before him and stood in the square of 
 light, his hands spread wide and flung above his head. 
 " You ain't gwine so, Marse Jen'fah ? You ain't gwine, 
 an' nobody knows whar, an' nothin' 'bout it ? " 
 
 " I must." Jenifer's hand kindly put the negro aside. 
 His look seemed to reassure, and, as the negro leaned 
 limp against the door, Jenifer sprang into the saddle, 
 sat for one still moment gazing upon blackened house 
 and trampled yard, at red hills and sweeping moun- 
 tains, then rode slowly and unquestioned along the 
 circling lane, past the orchard, over the crest of the hill. 
 
 Behind him was the love of the old house which had 
 mounted to worship; behind, the valleys and silent 
 woods; the content; the dawn of higher things; his 
 home, his wife, and all his past. What was before he 
 neither cared nor would direct. 
 
 Lightfoot paced daintily through the wood and lane, 
 and the broad red highway stretched hard before them. 
 The only twitch Jenifer gave the rein* was to turn her 
 from the town. It was nearly dusk when they rode
 
 1^2 Jenifer 
 
 out of the winding lane, it was dark when they reached 
 the road. Jenifer would have no man see him, and 
 would himself see none; no one now would know him 
 in the wide black way. 
 
 The stars were in the east, above the peaks behind 
 him ; and towards the west was wilder land ; and beyond 
 it higher mountain-tops. Where they brushed the sky 
 was wilderness impenetrable, and in its fastnesses was 
 a scattered folk unknown, proud, distant, and disdain- 
 ful of the hills and valleys at their feet. Those piercing 
 peaks had allured Jenifer's boyhood. The mystery of 
 the unexplored and the wild tales whispered of them 
 made them now a refuge. 
 
 Close as their blackness massed against the darkening 
 sky, the peaks were far. Jenifer went slowly, the reins 
 on Lightfoot's neck, following the broad deserted road 
 till towards dawn he came upon a way which led straight 
 west and up. 
 
 It was quickly light, the early dawn of a late spring 
 day, and, resolved that no one should see him or know 
 where he went, Jenifer pulled aside where a stream 
 crossed the road between steep and deep wooded hills, 
 and sent Lightfoot splashing up it. The horse was 
 thirsty, but her rider kept her head high till a curve, 
 and another hid them, and beech and chestnut and 
 oak dipped across the way, and alder and bramble 
 made a thicket by the brook's rocky bed. Then he 
 slipped wearily from the saddle. It had been two 
 nights since he slept. With Lightfoot following he 
 climbed to dry earth; and when Jenifer had tethered 
 her in a dip of the woods, where a trickle of moisture
 
 Jenifer 153 
 
 fed rank grass, he threw himself down on the leaves 
 the dew had not touched so thick were the boughs 
 above and he was asleep before the sunshine stole 
 through the branches. Warm and soft and pure the 
 air blew about him; dreamless, motionless he slept, 
 and eased the madness of his passion. 
 
 When he awoke it was dark. Lightfoot was whinny- 
 ing softly and uneasily; and when Jenifer stood for one 
 still moment, his arm upon the horse's neck, and looked 
 down the dim wood in which night deepened, a thrill 
 of expectancy wakened in him. He had put the deep 
 forgetfulness of sleep between that night and this, as 
 one puts miles behind him when he travels between 
 far severed points; and he was as ready for this night 
 as the traveller is for strange discoveries. Toward 
 such he went. He knew it as the road grew steep and 
 narrow, winding and rocky; as it lay deep shadowed, 
 narrower and rougher, and Lightfoot slipped upon 
 worn stones. But he was not aware that Lightfoot 
 had turned aside from the road and struck a trail. He 
 saw how steep it climbed, how wild was the black 
 earth on either hand, and how the peaks seemed to 
 tower at his side and to touch the skies. Light- 
 foot had taken the rougher way into a pocket of the 
 peaks. 
 
 Where the hills opened, as if for gateway, ran a level 
 tree-set place. Beyond the orchard towered taller 
 trees. Jenifer caught the gleam of a light, and heard 
 the rushing of a stream, but the way wound so steep 
 that he slipped from his saddle and climbed the path by 
 Lightfoot's side.
 
 i^4 Jenifer 
 
 Up, on either hand, ran the circling mountains. 
 They shut him close in amongst their peaks and brawl- 
 ing streams and wild rocks and black woods. The 
 way closed behind them as they climbed, and all the 
 earth was this dark hollow in the towering hills, and 
 all the sky the star-set blue which caught upon its 
 crests. 
 
 It was a shock to his exhilaration amidst the savage 
 loneliness to catch a sudden shout, to lose it, to hear 
 again a loud singsong, and to see the shimmer of a 
 light above him. 
 
 He lost it and the sound, as he climbed; but the 
 light flickered down through thick branches, where 
 they came out higher, and he turned Lightfoot's head 
 towards it. Slipping on mossy stones and over rough 
 earth, the dew-wet leaves slapping his cheek, Jenifer 
 pushed on. A boulder hid the light, and before he 
 rounded the mass of stone a strong voice rolled again 
 into the night, a voice in prayer. Earnest, exultant, 
 beseeching, in wild and superstitious terms it pleaded 
 and ended. 
 
 Jenifer coming nearer saw a flaring torch beneath a 
 rough, strange shelter. A tall, straight, fiery-eyed man 
 towered beside the light. A few people stood before 
 him and he lifted his hands as if in blessing. 
 
 Astounded, the watcher waited till the short words 
 were spoken and the people scattered. He could hear 
 their slipping steps and the crashing of the branches 
 through which they pushed. The man who had led 
 them had not followed. He stood still and rapt. Rot- 
 ting rafters were over his head, rough supports for the
 
 Jenifer 155 
 
 roof about him; and at his feet broken and twisted pipes 
 of iron and decaying wood. 
 
 Jenifer stepped into the light. The preacher turned 
 at the unexpected sound and they stood, measuring 
 one another by the flaring, wind-blown light. Tall 
 and straight fashioned were they both ; slow of speech, 
 unless moved by stormy passion, it might be guessed; 
 firm of mouth each was, and stern of glance. The 
 flickering light showed the preacher's face most plainly. 
 Jenifer and Lightfoot behind him were limned 
 against the night. 
 
 " Whar did you come from ? " 
 
 That primal question Jenifer did not mean to answer. 
 He stood silent. 
 
 " Are you lost ? " 
 
 " No," assured the stranger calmly. 
 
 " Know your way 'bout here ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Hm ! " with a lightning glance and measurement. 
 " Trying to cross the mountains ? " 
 
 Jenifer laughed. The queries were so sharp and 
 blunt. 
 
 "Not to-night," he said carelessly. 
 
 " Tired ? " 
 
 " Not much." 
 
 " Nowhar for you to stay 'round here. What in the 
 nation possessed you ? " 
 
 " I am not anxious about a place to stay. This will 
 do as well as any." 
 
 " This ! You know what this is, what it was ? " 
 with something of the wild inflection of his preaching.
 
 156 Jenifer 
 
 " A still ! A still ! One of the las' the law put down. 
 Here, where the people come to sell their souls, I come 
 to save them. Every man in the Hollow, I've got them 
 all; an' I fight the Devil for 'em here, right here, whar 
 I've seen 'em layin' dead drunk. Talk 'bout payin' 
 license, thar's no license for sech as I've seen. An' 
 we've got shet of it. Yes," to himself; and then step- 
 ping down and nearer, and looking keenly at Jenifer. 
 " What's your name ? " 
 
 " Wooten," said Jenifer quickly. 
 
 " Wooten ! " The old man stood for a second agape. 
 " Wooten ! " He snatched up the torch and strode 
 nearer to the stranger. The light fell full on Jenifer's 
 face. His eyes looked squarely back, and calmly and 
 steadily. Suddenly the preacher quenched the light. 
 " So is mine," he said shortly. " Come on home, son 1 "
 
 XVI 
 
 " WANT anything to eat ? " The old man stood at 
 his unlocked door. " Had any supper ? Lan' ! " at 
 Jenifer's answer and his short laugh. " Turn your 
 horse loose; he'll find all he wants, water an' grass; 
 an' come 'long in, in the lean-to." The last syllable 
 was strongly accented. 
 
 " Name o' Goshen, whar is the lamp ? " as he stumbled 
 over a chair. " Here ! here 'tis ! " The preacher lighted 
 it, and, opening the door of a tin safe, stood peering at 
 the half-filled shelves. " Ain't much here ; but if you're 
 hongry well, you can't starve. Corn-pone," he 
 set it out, " meat " cold, and in a platter of hard- 
 ened gravy " molasses," with a flourish. " Set to ! 
 Help yourself. Lan' ! " with a laugh that echoed up 
 the gorge, " a hongry man is none too pertickler. Hold 
 on. I'll get some milk; plenty down in the run." 
 
 The old man was gone. Jenifer could hear him slip- 
 ping and sliding down the steep rocky path, but he 
 waited for nothing. He was starved. 
 
 " Gosh-a-mighty ! " laughed Wooten at the door. 
 " Help yourself! It makes me hongry to see you eat." 
 He filled a thick mug with foaming milk, and then 
 another. " B'lieve I'll draw up myself. Milk an' 
 pone an' meat, 'tis good sho," he vowed as he sliced 
 
 157
 
 1 58 Jenifer 
 
 the hard bread with his pocket-knife, and speared at 
 the cold meat in the dish. " It certainly does taste 
 good." 
 
 Jenifer ate ravenously. The small smoked hand- 
 lamp threw a feeble light upon the rough table. The 
 dull gleam showed the young man's face, white, worn, 
 yet with an odd look of exultation on it, and the 
 preacher's, on which the exalted fierceness of the meet- 
 ing in the still yet lingered. 
 
 For the old man such gleams were fitful, and apt 
 to be quenched to a steady light of jovial, lazy living. 
 The sins against which he passionately lifted his voice 
 at such high moments were wont to seem matter of 
 course to him in his every-day life; and the one against 
 which he most raged might have been said to be con- 
 doned by his own habits. 
 
 The lean-to had for its roof split chestnut saplings 
 running from the logs of the inner cabin, in which they 
 fitted, spreading fan-wise outward from a central point 
 to lower boarded sides. Boards and saplings should 
 have joined but did not, from their rude putting together; 
 and above the boards ran a rough shelf beneath the 
 eaves. Contrivances of all sorts were hidden on it, 
 an ax-helve, a powder-horn, drying gourds, red peppers, 
 brown tobacco leaves, and amongst them a squat gray 
 
 jug- 
 
 The old man felt no qualm of conscience as he fumbled 
 for it, and rinsed his mug and poured into it a drink 
 browner than the milk. " Have a tetch ? " he asked 
 hospitably. " Lan' ! " at Jenifer's astonishment, 
 " you're thinkin' 'bout what I said back thar. Well
 
 Jenifer 159 
 
 now," straightening himself and looking with humorous 
 glance at his stranger guest, " you see I ain't sayin' a 
 word 'bout a little, jus' a little, bought fair and square, 
 an' kep' for comfort. No, sir; 'tis makin' a dog-gone 
 fool o' yourself I preach against, an' spendin' the money 
 that ought to be buyin' meat an' clothes for your family." 
 
 " Are you married ? " asked Jenifer hastily. 
 
 " Not now, not right now," the old man answered 
 sheepishly, his head turned somewhat aside. 
 
 Jenifer breathed freely. He wanted solitude; beyond 
 all, a womanless solitude. "Living by yourself?" 
 Jenifer, his hunger satisfied, pushed back his plate 
 and leaned across the table, looking at the man who 
 had befriended him. 
 
 The preacher had still a spoonful of red liquor in 
 his mug, and he pushed the heavy china back and 
 forth on the table with awkward hands. " Looks like 
 it, don't it ? " he fended. " Got enough ? Can't eat 
 no mo' ? " he asked suddenly. " Won't take a drop ? " 
 his hands on the jug. " Time to smoke then. Lan', 
 I'm glad you will ! Seems like you don't know what 
 sort o' fellow a man is till you've seen him smoke a 
 pipe. If he's forever jerkin' at it an' puffin* the smoke 
 out in little squirts, that man is braggy an' pepper- 
 tempered, always goin* to do more than anybody else, 
 an' never doin' nothin'." Wooten was moving heavily 
 about the room, searching for his pipes and reaching 
 for the tobacco leaves. " If he jus' sets an' lets his pipe 
 hang out o' his mouth till it's fairly gone out, he's too 
 darned lazy for any good. But when a man has et his 
 meal, an' sets down for a good smoke, an' sees the
 
 160 Jenifer 
 
 tobacco red at the top o' the bowl an* the smoke curlin* 
 steady up in the air Lan', 'tis good. 'Tain't never 
 been tetched! 
 
 " Here's a pipe," the old man added in a tone of 
 satisfaction. " I whittled the pith out o' the cob an' 
 cut the reed myself. Fill up ! " 
 
 Wooten settled himself comfortably on the log step, 
 and Jenifer threw himself on the hard earth beside it. 
 The night was cool, but not chill to them. The brawling 
 of the streams and the singing of the wind down the 
 steep mountainsides filled the Hollow with soft sounds. 
 In the starlight Jenifer could see the clearing, the rough 
 cabin, the low shelter for cattle near it, and the small 
 garden patch. 
 
 The preacher seemed to have seized on the only 
 space between the peaks, a slope bounded by rocky 
 streams. One stream they had crossed, springing 
 from stone to stone, to reach the cabin ; the other foamed 
 over the boulders beyond the hut; and the mountain 
 seemed to rise straight and sheer from stream to 
 stars. No light twinkled on the close-set peaks, 
 nor was a sound heard from the steep dense woods. 
 Jenifer wondered where there was room for the folk 
 he had seen to live. He asked Wooten. 
 
 " Here and thar," answered Wooten carelessly. 
 " Lots o' room. Seems like you can walk straight up 
 these sides, now don't it, son ? an' 'tis clear two miles 
 up the Hollow till you get to the droppin* off place, an' 
 two miles down to whar you turn in to get here; yes, 
 sir, spite o' the way she'll deceive you some clear mornin,' 
 like a woman, when she gets a chance, beckonin* you
 
 Jenifer 161 
 
 on, an' promisin' 'tain't noways you got to come, or 
 nothin' you got to do; an' the faster you go, or the 
 harder you work, the farther both are." He chuckled 
 at his speech, and drew harder on his pipe. 
 
 " Room here, plenty o' room," the old man repeated, 
 watching Jenifer shrewdly, " an' ain't nobody goin' to 
 bother you in it. No, sir. 'Long 'bout 'lection time 
 some man might fin' his way up here but I manage 
 that myself, the 'lections; they done come to leave us 
 mos'ly alone. An' that's 'bout the only face you see 
 what don't b'long here, right here in the Hollow." 
 He nodded encouragingly to Jenifer. 
 
 Wooten was well used to crime. He had seen murder 
 done and the man who committed it go free. For 
 theft he had scarce a name, the deed was so common, 
 the petty pilfering from neighbor to neighbor. Stealing 
 was a big word, and an awful thing. 
 
 If Jenifer fled from the consequences of any rash 
 act, as the preacher thought, he had found refuge. 
 He himself, who ruled the Hollow, would see to it; 
 for Wooten had instantly, and strongly and impulsively, 
 liked the clear-eyed, still-lipped man who had faced 
 him steadily beneath the flaring torches at the still; 
 and he would have sworn to his rightfulness, if not to 
 his innocence. The law of the Hollow, and its judgments, 
 was primitive. 
 
 The name, too, the old man thought, was strange 
 and it held for him a whimsical attraction. None 
 bore it in the Hollow but those of his kin ; and amongst 
 them was a legend of a Hessian officer of wild life and 
 deeds foregathering with an outlaw's daughter, and
 
 162 Jenifer 
 
 living and dying in the windings of the gorge. It 
 pleased the preacher to steal furtive glances at Jenifer's 
 long straight limbs such were his own; at the young 
 man's thick black hair such his had been; at 
 Jenifer's clear cut face propped by his elbow in the grass. 
 
 " These here nights," the old man began slowly, 
 after long and silent musing, " seems like a shame to 
 sleep an' lose 'em. Air so sof an' sweet, sort o' like 
 sort o' like honey when 'tis good an' fresh, an' you fairly 
 taste the blossoms in it. An' then the days," laughing 
 softly, " you couldn't miss them. An' if you want to 
 be up an' have a look at to-morrow, good an' early 
 well, I 'spect we'd better be gettin' 'long to bed, son. 
 Lan' ! " for Jenifer, his head upon his arm, the pipe 
 between his fingers in the grass, lay sound asleep. 
 " Son," the old man repeated, leaning to touch him 
 lightly, " 'tis time to go to bed." 
 
 " I hope you slept as well in the bed as you did in 
 the yard," Wooten asked in the morning. 
 
 " Sound as a top," Jenifer asserted. 
 
 " What you goin' to do to-day ? " 
 
 " The Lord only knows." Jenifer stretched his 
 arms above his head, and Wooten laughed. 
 
 " Well, I don't know 'bout myself," he vowed. 
 " Thar's nothin' right to han' this minute; but thar'll 
 be plenty, plenty befo' the day is done. An' first thar's 
 breakfas'. I ain't no han' much at cookin'," he warned. 
 
 The old man was right as to his kitchen skill. The 
 soda biscuits, made in honor of his guest, were streaked 
 and sodden. The eggs he had striven to poach so that 
 " the whites and yellows sot straight " were broken
 
 Jenifer 163 
 
 to uninviting fragments; the coffee had the color of 
 the mountain stream in its shallows. 
 
 " Fact is," the preacher acknowledged, as he reached 
 up to the shelf beneath the eaves, " I ain't much used 
 to doin' without women folks." 
 
 " Thought you said you lived by yourself," said 
 Jenifer quickly. 
 
 " Thought I was an ol' bach ; Ian* ! " The old man's 
 sniff was indignant and defiant. " Well, I am jus' 
 now," he added plaintively. 
 
 " Come 'long," he called in despair when they had 
 tried to straighten up the room and table; " 'tain't no 
 use fussin' here no longer. We couldn't get things 
 lookin' like like they ought to be. Shucks ! it don't 
 matter nohow. I'm goin' down the mountain a piece 
 to see 'bout some wood ; want to go ? " 
 
 Jenifer was ready. 
 
 With the sunshine stealing through the peaks the 
 young man could see what the night had hidden; 
 how thick the locusts grew on the steeps, drooping their 
 clustering blossoms beneath their flickering leaves; 
 how brown showed the new leaves on the oaks; how 
 thick the chestnuts grew, how tall the hickories and 
 poplars; how rank were the ferns that brushed their 
 feet; and how amongst them and the grass flamed 
 indian pinks, scarlet and broad-lipped and thick- 
 clustered glowing fire betwixt the green. 
 
 The path struck the trail Lightfoot had followed. 
 " This is the way you come in," the old man said 
 laconically. " Wonder how you found it." He was 
 still curious, but Jenifer was silent.
 
 164 Jenifer 
 
 " Thar's whar Hutchins lives," pointing to a cabin 
 clinging like a nest far up the mountainside; "an* 
 that path goes up to Stith's. See that peak up thar, 
 between the trees ? That's Shiflet's." 
 
 " Who lives there ? " asked Jenifer quickly, as a 
 cabin showed down the trail. It was on the right, on 
 the same slope On which Wooten's cabin stood, a tongue 
 of land between two streams and broadening as it 
 fell. 
 
 " Whar ? " Wooten's hand running up the back of 
 his head tilted his hat further over his eyes, an awkward 
 gesture of embarrassment. " Thar ? Nobody." 
 
 " Who owns it ? " demanded Jenifer suddenly. 
 
 " I s'pose 'tis mine." 
 
 " Want to rent it ? " 
 
 "To what?" 
 
 " To let anybody live in it ? " 
 
 "Well, that depends on who 'tis; mos' people I 
 don't want thar. No, sir. Ain't nobody lived in it 
 for three years. But I look after it, an' " 
 
 " I want to see it," said Jenifer tersely, as he struck 
 a way through the willows and across the rocks, Wooten 
 following with slow reluctance. 
 
 The cabin had its twin in the house, the lean-to, 
 and the shelter above them. Beside it sang the stream 
 and beyond the water towered the peak. It looked as 
 if the hut had dropped to the bottom of a cup of green- 
 ness through which the waters sang and the winds 
 stole and over which the sky shone, all for that one 
 cabin far beneath its sheltering rim. 
 
 " Who lived here ? " asked Jenifer quickly.
 
 Jenifer 16$ 
 
 " I did." Wooten moved his head, embarrassed, 
 and looked at everything but Jenifer's eyes. 
 
 " How long ago ? " forgetting that Wooten had 
 already told. 
 
 " 'Bout three years." 
 
 " What made you leave it ? " 
 
 " Well, Susan You see I couldn't 'gree with 
 her; an* so I got Mehitabel an' an' I moved up 
 the mountain." 
 
 " What ? " Jenifer was open-mouthed and incred- 
 ulous. 
 
 " 'Twan't no use tryin' no longer," Wooten defended. 
 " I jus' couldn't put up with her nohow. She was 
 a-wearin' me out," he vowed in sudden heat of passion; 
 " an' I was afraid o' her, 'fraid o' what I might do to 
 her. She was so pizen mean." Jenifer turned sud- 
 denly, his cheek white, his look on the distant peaks. 
 
 " I jus' was bleeged to leave her," the passionate 
 voice drawled on. " An' I couldn't live by myself 
 nohow." 
 
 " Didn't you know " began Jenifer's stifled voice. 
 
 " Know what? I knew I was 'bleeged to do it." 
 
 " But to stand up and preach ! " 
 
 " Why shouldn't I ? Gawd-a-mighty ! is thar a man 
 in this Hollow will stan' up an' tell me why I shouldn't ? " 
 Wooten's eyes were blazing, his clenched fists menacing. 
 " Didn't I take care o' her ? Didn't I look after her 
 after I lef ? Didn't I leave her everything, house, 
 garden, everything, an' jus' strike out for myself? 
 Didn't everybody know I took care o' her till she took 
 up with another man ? "
 
 166 Jenifer 
 
 " Where is she now ? " 
 
 " She's done moved across the mountain.*' 
 
 " And the other ? " 
 
 " Dead; been dead a month or so," Wooten added 
 softly. 
 
 " Is that all, all of your wives ? " asked Jenifer, 
 intending a thrust. 
 
 " Thar's one mo'," said the old man simply, " jus' 
 one mo'. She's livin' down thar," pointing to a chim- 
 ney showing above the willows. 
 
 " Lord ! " Jenifer groaned, afraid to laugh or scoff 
 or argue, the old man, his flash of anger past, was so 
 serene and unquestioning of the wisdom or right of 
 what he had done : " She's got the children with her," 
 he added composedly, " all I ever had. Susan an' 
 Mehitabel they didn't have none. Though I've heard 
 tell as how Susan had 'em now, two or three of 'em. 
 
 " You see " still standing straight, his hands in 
 his pockets, his hat on his eyes, his bewhiskered chin 
 thrust forward, his blue eyes lazily half open, " I started 
 down thar," with a nod towards the cabin below. " I 
 was jus' growed up then, an' I used to spree considerable; 
 yes, sir, pretty considerable. An' Mary she got tired 
 of it. I don't blame her, not a mite. I sho was wuth- 
 less. An' she she drove me out. Said she was tired 
 o' me an' my cussedness ! " A dull flash was on the 
 old man's lean face even now when he recalled it. 
 " That's what she said. An' I lit out. Come up hyar; 
 an' after awhile I set up with Susan. An' she 1 
 couldn't stan' Susan nohow, an' I jus' put out again. 
 Then thar was Mehitabel," he added simply.
 
 Jenifer 167 
 
 " I ain't never done spreed any since Mary drove 
 me out," he went on. " An' I took to preachin' an' 
 standin' up against it, an' against everything else the 
 devil is a-pushin' along "a sudden flare of the zealot 
 in his eyes and the singsong inflection of a voice used 
 to shouting in the open. 
 
 " An' " Wooten broke off and came back to his 
 simpler commonplaces. " Mary was thar las' night. 
 She come to hear me preach. She had the children 
 with her. She'd come, yes; but she don't let me do a 
 thing for her nor them. An' they's my children, all I 
 got. She don't let 'em set foot in my do'; an' me I 
 ain't crossed hers since since Thar she is nowl " 
 
 Wooten's calm assertiveness had faded. " Mary," 
 he said awkwardly, as a woman parted the willows 
 and came out in the little clearing, "Mary, here's a 
 new-comer. His name's same as mine Wooten." 
 
 The woman looked at Jenifer searchingly. She was 
 brown-eyed and large, with cheeks that had been 
 freckled in her youth and hair which had been red. 
 The freckles had faded and the soft skin was wrinkled 
 like cream which has stood too long within the bowl. 
 The hair was like burnished copper. 
 
 " Coin' to stay ? " the woman asked suddenly. 
 
 " Yes." Jenifer smiled at the calm directness. 
 
 " Whar ? " 
 
 " Here." Jenifer's hand was upon the door behind 
 him.
 
 XVII 
 
 " SON," drawled Wooten, " you're mighty well 
 fixed, 'clare to goodness if you ain't. An' you didn't 
 lose no time about it." 
 
 Jenifer laughed at the old man's ready appreciation. 
 " It was easy enough," he assured. " Everything was 
 here all right. All I had to do was to clean up." 
 
 The old man, with his curious logic, had left Susan's 
 furniture untouched, or " the heft of it," as he would 
 have said. " Well, you sho done it," he said slowly. 
 
 The vigorous work had been the breath of life to 
 Jenifer, who longed to think of nothing, to remember 
 nothing, only to do; and morning after morning, eve- 
 ning after evening, Wooten had sauntered through the 
 locusts and alders and willows fringing the middle 
 clearing to see what had been accomplished. The old 
 man, afflicted with mountain laziness, marvelled at 
 Jenifer's energy. 
 
 " Well, it looks good." Wooten sat down on the low 
 step, and leaned his elbows on his knees. " It certainly 
 does. All the weeds done pulled up, an' the grass so 
 soft an' fine it sort o' makes you feel good an' springy 
 to put your foot on it; an* the roof patched up; an* 
 whitewash inside an* out; an' smell! I always did 
 like the smell o' lime, like like Ian', I don't 
 1 68
 
 Jenifer 169 
 
 know what 'tis like, 'less 'tis the smell o' woods after the 
 rain's been beatin' 'em; clean an' sort o' sweet, you 
 know." 
 
 He settled back contentedly. Jenifer was in the 
 lean-to, but the old man knew that the younger heard 
 his disjointed sentences and listened in his taciturn 
 fashion. The preacher himself was in no talking humor, 
 and his broken sentences had been but a braving out 
 of his mood. He had been sick with loneliness up in 
 his far cabin, and now, with Jenifer near, settled into 
 contented silence. 
 
 Close and sheer, nearer than to his own house, the 
 mountain rose behind the hut, the thick trees and 
 dense bushes making a wall that ran dark and steep, 
 afar off; but near was a shield of stealing shadows and 
 sifting lights, filled to its dim distances with lisping 
 sounds. The stream brawled loud upon its rocks; a 
 locust grew near the door; indian pinks flamed in the 
 grass ; a willow thicket hid the path that dipped down- 
 ward. The way showed that it had been trodden, for 
 the grass was flat upon it, the ferns crushed, and the 
 branches broken. 
 
 " Ever see Mary ? " the old man called through the 
 door. He had often wondered, but never before had 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes," answered Jenifer laconically. 
 
 Wooten shifted his shoulder against the door-frame. 
 The cleaning inside the cabin, the scrubbing, the piling 
 of the black fireplace with green pine boughs looked 
 like a woman's work, like hers; yet he had never seen 
 her there.
 
 170 Jenifer 
 
 Jenifer whistled as he went about the lean-to. He 
 had been neither desperate nor unhappy since that 
 awakening in the woods when the thrill of expectancy 
 had shaken him. To hide himself had been instinctive. 
 The beast most ignorant and lowest in the scale of life 
 knows how to shield itself when its skin is first cast; 
 and the beating of the flood was yet too near for Jenifer, 
 the beaten, to know where he had been tossed, or what 
 path he might find. He but drew breath and strength. 
 He bided. 
 
 Already the peaks were beautiful to him, the stream 
 musical, the stars friendly. What they would give to 
 him he would learn slowly and unconsciously; now it 
 was buoyancy, a stir, not of hope, but of hopefulness. 
 " Wooten," he called from the lean-to, " come on. 
 Supper is ready." 
 
 " Lan', you don't say so." Wooten moved slowly. 
 ' 'Tain't sundown yet," throwing back his head to look 
 above the peaks. 
 
 ''' 'Tis supper-time anyhow : come on ! " 
 
 " Lan'," cried Wooten again at the lean-to door. 
 " Lan' o' Goshen ! " he intensified his expression. 
 " This looks something like. Thought you said you 
 wa'n't no cook." 
 
 " I am not. Sit down. Help yourself." 
 
 Wooten reached for a biscuit. They were brown 
 and light, and cold. He opened one, spread the soft 
 butter on it, and bit into it, half of the creamy disc at a 
 bite. "Urn!" he munched. "Urn!" Suddenly he 
 pushed back his plate and his eyes flashed behind his 
 heavy lids. " You made 'em ? "
 
 Jenifer 171 
 
 " Didn't say I did," answered Jenifer easily. " Have 
 another ? " pushing the plate nearer his guest. 
 
 " I know who did," the old man flared. 
 
 " Yes ? " 
 
 " Mary ! 'Tain't no woman on the mountain can 
 cook like that, no woman but Mary." 
 
 Jenifer was eating heartily. The hour was cool and 
 on the little stove in the lean-to the teakettle bubbled, 
 and the red embers shone through the rusty grate. 
 " She's cooking for me," he announced calmly; "doing 
 most of it. Sends her boy up with it." 
 
 " Hm ! " the old man snorted. 
 
 " I pay her for it," said Jenifer, seeing Wooten's 
 angry uneasiness. " And she needs the money," he 
 added mercilessly. 
 
 Wooten sat silent, his plate empty before him. 
 
 " Clothing three children and finding enough for 
 them to eat is no easy job." 
 
 " I always wanted to help her, always ; but she wouldn't 
 take a thing. I bought her a dress last Christmas. 
 Mehitabel helped to choose it : and Mary sent it back." 
 
 Wooten missed the flash of amusement in Jenifer's 
 eyes. He was looking wistfully at the biscuit. " Mary 
 always did make good bread." His big hand stole 
 towards the plate. " Susan she flung 'em together so 
 as they'd scarcely stick, an' the lumps inside o' them 
 was worse than a feather bed when it ain't been beat; 
 an' Mehitabel she streaked hers up so with soda till 
 they made your tongue feel soft in your mouth, an' the 
 water run down your throat same like 'twas soaped. 
 But Mary " The old man piled his plate.
 
 172 Jenifer 
 
 "An* bile a ham! She can't be beat," he added. 
 Then, as he ate, " This honey came from the back of 
 the garden patch. Yes, sir; I know the taste. I put 
 the hives there myself. Son," he ended, " I ain't eat 
 no such meal since since the Lord knows when," he 
 caught himself. " You're mighty fortunate, mighty 
 fortunate," he declared as they lighted their pipes 
 before the door. 
 
 " Yes, I think so," said Jenifer soberly. 
 
 " Son," after a long pause, and taking his pipe slowly 
 from his lips, " son, is you worth much ? " 
 
 " Powder and shot," declared Jenifer with sudden 
 bitterness. 
 
 " Shucks ! What you gettin' at ? You know what I 
 mean. Have you got much money ? " he insisted 
 curiously. 
 
 Jenifer flushed hotly. " I have some some that I 
 brought with me," he stammered; "and not a cent 
 more," he added sternly. Jenifer's instructions to the 
 bank had been as explicit as those to Wheatham; and 
 he had cut loose from both. 
 
 " I shall have to look out for some corn for my horse," 
 said Jenifer quickly, breaking the awkwardness of the 
 silence. " Grass is not good for her all the time. Do 
 you know where I can get some ? " 
 
 " None in the Hollow, not this time o' year. If 
 anybody has got enough to grind an' keep him goin' 
 till crops come in he's lucky. None to part with. 
 Haven't got enough myself. Maybe Mary " he 
 began with embarrassment. 
 
 " Hers is gone. I asked her."
 
 Jenifer 173 
 
 " You don't say ? " in dismay. " That's bad ; mighty 
 bad," he repeated after awhile. 
 
 " You say there's none to sell," Jenifer insisted. 
 
 " Not a nubbin in the Hollow. Thar might be some 
 at the Park." 
 
 " The Park ? " Jenifer had not heard the name men- 
 tioned before. 
 
 " Down thar at the mouth o' the Hollow. Didn't 
 you see it when you come in ? " 
 
 " It was dark," answered Jenifer briefly. 
 
 " Lots o' trees," the old man continued, " an* an 
 orchard between it and the trail; an' the house sort o' 
 set back." 
 
 Jenifer remembered. " I know. I saw it. I had 
 forgotten." 
 
 " Well, they may have some thar." 
 
 " I shall go down in the morning." 
 
 " Ain't nobody to tend to nothin' thar but the ol* 
 lady, less the young one has taken holt. She's spry 
 enough for anything," he chuckled. " Man named 
 Morgan was workin' the place, an' he up an' quit, 
 right after he had put in the crops; put off for some 
 mills or other. Jus' lef ' ! An' I don't know what they're 
 goin' to do. Ain't got nobody yet, far as I know." 
 
 Wooten watched Jenifer shrewdly, but if his gossip 
 embodied any hint the younger man had not taken it. 
 
 Jenifer had forgotten what he heard when he tramped 
 the rough way next morning. Lightfoot was left whinny- 
 ing behind the willows. The walk suited Jenifer better. 
 It was as strange to him as if he never put foot on the 
 trail. Darkness had hidden it, and he had not cared
 
 174 Jenifer 
 
 a whit concerning it when he had climbed it in the 
 night, but now, as the way unwound, glimpse by glimpse, 
 he saw the high-lying, hill-broken valleys, and, clouding 
 into the sky, the peaks beyond, the lower mountains 
 he had left. 
 
 The narrow gorge Jenifer trod was like an inlet that 
 has beaten its way into rough lands, and spread into a 
 fair bay at their feet. The bay was Briar Park. 
 
 Young apple-trees bent above him as Jenifer turned 
 aside. Wide and clear came down the stream that sang 
 by his own house. It was slumberous in the morning, 
 and the shadows fell heavily upon the wide porch and 
 through the empty hall. Jenifer knocked, and had no 
 answer; again, to hear nothing. 
 
 The hall was wide, but not long; and a door opened 
 at the opposite end. Jenifer crossed to it lightly, as 
 if half afraid. He saw to the right a sleeping apart- 
 ment; and to the left a dismantled and darkened room. 
 The door which he gained opened on an angle between 
 the main house and the wing; and the steps led to a 
 rioting garden. Jenifer, on the topmost stair, gazed 
 with sudden, intent interest. 
 
 Whoever planted it long years before must have had 
 in memory some loved garden left across the seas and 
 striven to ease a heartache for broad downs and blue 
 seas. Roses climbed the house walls and running 
 myrtle crowded to the mossy bricks. The long leaves 
 of violets grew thick about the steps. Beyond the 
 formal path syringa bloomed, and the " shrub " was 
 brown with blossoms, and the jessamine starred its 
 light leaves with milk-white clusters. The fragrant
 
 Jenifer 175 
 
 yellow trumpet of its fellow swung by its side. Beyond, 
 thick and untrimmed box hedges led beneath bending 
 fruit-trees. Farther yet was what Jenifer thought to 
 be a vegetable garden. A tangle of althea and lilac 
 and wild plum-bush was back of all. 
 
 The sight of it was like a clutch at his fought for 
 peace, his imposed forgetfulness. He remembered the 
 old garden he had loved. He did not see a figure that 
 flitted around the corner, keeping close to the ivied 
 and rose-covered wall; and the light flying step on moss 
 and myrtle was unheard. 
 
 " Miss Amblah ! Miss Amblah ! " called a high 
 thin voice. 
 
 " Gawd ! What's she done now ? " 
 
 " Miss Amblah ! " 
 
 Stooping low, the girl sped from bush to bush, keep- 
 ing hidden. A stifled laugh, a cry of astonishment, 
 and Jenifer looked down on a young woman holding 
 apart the syringa boughs which met above her head. 
 
 Her hair was black, and loose about her face; her 
 eyes were opened wide and, at that moment, they were 
 dark as Jenifer's; her cheek curved to a dimple in her 
 chin. Her red lips parted like a startled child's; and 
 the flowers framed her, as they should. 
 
 Jenifer, silent, his eyes and mouth stern in his astonish- 
 ment, gazed down at her. 
 
 " Miss Amblah ! " 
 
 His breath came quick. It was the little maid.
 
 XVIII 
 
 THE girl dropped the branches behind her and 
 stepped nearer. " Do you wish to see my aunt ? " she 
 asked, with sudden touch of haughtiness. 
 
 Jenifer was dumb. For him the spell had not yet 
 broken. 
 
 " Are you looking for my aunt ? " the girl demanded, 
 a flash of quick anger in her eyes. 
 
 "I I suppose so," Jenifer stammered. 
 
 " She will be here directly. You had best wait in 
 the hall." 
 
 A rose thorn had caught at the hem of her white 
 gown, and held her. She pulled at it impatiently. 
 
 " Wait," said Jenifer, coming slowly down the steps. 
 " Let me unfasten it." 
 
 " It's no matter," she cried, twisting her head im- 
 patiently to see where she had been caught. 
 
 Jenifer kneeled to unfasten it, and she turned a 
 flushed face, where vexation half-hid her merriment, 
 to look at him. The red rose, whose briar had clutched 
 her gown, drifted its blossoms between his face and 
 hers. 
 
 " Miss Amblah," the high voice called, and nearer. 
 Jenifer stumbled to his feet. 
 
 He never knew how he followed her into the big 
 176
 
 Jenifer 177 
 
 room which was sleeping-room and parlor alike; nor 
 how, grown suddenly hospitable, the girl made him at 
 home, looked to his comfort, and flitted off. 
 
 He sat dazed. The child had been a fairy vision of 
 his boyhood. She had been forgotten; and dimly 
 recalled but to be broidered with fancies and again 
 put aside. Jenifer had never thought of seeing her 
 again, and she was found. Her swift light step was in 
 the hall. 
 
 " Aunt Molly will be here in a moment ; " she flashed 
 the stranger a shy smile. " Here she is now." Ambler 
 shrank back by the farther window. A deep and wide 
 mahogany bureau bulged between them. 
 
 " I am sorry I was so hard to find. I hope I have 
 not kept you waiting," Aunt Molly panted, her breath 
 short from her haste; and she held out her soft, well- 
 padded hand to the tall and earnest-eyed young man 
 who rose to meet her. Whoever was in Aunt Molly's 
 house was instantly a guest, and it needed no second 
 glance to assure her that this man was a gentleman. 
 She waved him to his chair, and sat down not far away. 
 " Getting mighty warm," she ventured, as a friendly 
 beginning. 
 
 "I I came over to see if I could buy some corn," 
 blurted Jenifer, never wholly at ease with women and 
 now doubly awkward. 
 
 " To buy corn ! " Aunt Molly's blue eyes were wide. 
 
 " I heard you might have some to sell," Jenifer 
 blundered. 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," coldly. " You will have 
 to ask Joshua."
 
 178 Jenifer 
 
 " Aunt Molly " Ambler stepped out into the 
 room " we have plenty, I know." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure I don't," plaintively. " Ever since 
 that wretched man went off " 
 
 " We are better without him," declared the girl 
 sturdily. 
 
 " Then I don't see it. But Joshua " 
 
 " We have plenty," said Ambler, looking across at 
 Jenifer, " and will be glad to sell." 
 
 " Leave it to Joshua." 
 
 Ambler laughed. " He can't do everything, Aunt 
 Molly." 
 
 " You'll find him in the yard, Mr. Mr. " 
 
 " Wooten," Jenifer interjected. 
 
 " If you will walk out in the yard, Mr. Wooten, you 
 will find the man there." 
 
 Ambler dimpled suddenly. She remembered her 
 dispute with the old negro and her flight. 
 
 " Amber, will you go with him ? " 
 
 Jenifer started at the contraction of the name, it so 
 exactly fitted her quaintness. He knew what he had 
 first thought of when he saw her, a dim and narrow 
 street, a jutting window, and in the duskiness of it old 
 jewels flashing, with polished beads in the midst of 
 them glowing like molten sunshine. He thought of 
 them when he walked by her side, when they found 
 the suspicious-eyed negro, when Joshua turned the 
 key in the corn-house door, while they bargained, 
 Ambler listening gravely, and when they returned 
 slowly houseward. 
 
 " You found some ? " asked Aunt Molly.
 
 Jenifer 179 
 
 " Of course," assented Ambler easily. 
 
 " I am much indebted to you," began Jenifer 
 formally. 
 
 " I am sure that if you could find some one to look 
 after this farm we would be more indebted to you." 
 Aunt Molly believed in an open display of her vexa- 
 tions. Some one who understood them might some- 
 time lend a hand. " Do you know of any one ? " 
 
 A sudden flash of purpose leaped in Jenifer's eyes, 
 but Aunt Molly was looking away from him. " Where 
 are you staying ? " she continued placidly. 
 
 " Up in the mountain." 
 
 " Oh," with sudden change of tone. The dwellers 
 of the high valleys and rolling hills have only contempt 
 for those of the mountain pockets; and they of the 
 hollows, only hatred for the people of the valleys. War, 
 centuries old, is between them. " I thought you were 
 a stranger," Aunt Molly added coldly. 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " Oh ! " with less disdain and more interest. " You 
 don't know of anybody ? " turning in her chair the 
 better to look at the young man standing in the middle 
 of the floor, his soft hat crumpled in his hand. 
 
 " Yes," said Jenifer calmly, " I think I do." 
 
 Aunt Molly leaned forward in delighted surprise. 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " Myself." 
 
 " You ! " She leaned back and critically surveyed 
 his height, his ease of carriage, his firm mouth, and 
 the gleam of amusement in his eyes. She remembered 
 her instant classification of him. It was not necessary
 
 180 Jenifer 
 
 that Morgan's successor should be a gentleman. " Are 
 you a farmer ? " she faltered. 
 
 " Yes," he said with an odd smile about his mouth. 
 Ambler's searching gaze was on him, and he feared 
 that more than her aunt's. 
 
 " You think you could undertake it ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " At once ? " 
 
 Jenifer assented. Aunt Molly leaned back and 
 pondered. Suddenly the look of perplexity fled from 
 her face. " Providence has sent you," she vowed 
 fervently. " I wouldn't dare to say a word. You will 
 come to-morrow ? " 
 
 Jenifer agreed. 
 
 " And start right in ? The Lord certainly brought 
 you here this day," she declared with the easy con- 
 fidence of those who shoulder their own lax carelessness 
 upon an ever interfering Providence. " Amber, you 
 and Joshua and Mr. Mr. Wooten odd name ; 
 some people up in the mountain have it. Any kin ? " 
 she asked keenly. 
 
 " I did not know of them before I came," answered 
 Jenifer, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. 
 
 " Well, you can talk it over. Whatever you decide 
 will be all right. Amber knows more about it than I 
 do," which was the truth. The Park was Ambler's, 
 inherited from her father, Miss Molly's brother; but 
 the aunt's guardianship had lasted so long and the 
 girl's reliance had been so absolute that, even with 
 the assertiveness of Ambler's new ideas, the rule of 
 affairs was as much in Aunt Molly's hands as in those
 
 Jenifer 181 
 
 of her niece. Now, Miss Molly settled back comfort- 
 ably. The walk in the yard had been exertion enough. 
 The air was cool and fresh in the big room, and the 
 book she had read many times still held her interest. 
 
 Ambler in her young eagerness questioned Jenifer 
 closely; but her eyes said more than her lips. His 
 mental grasp of the work of the place was quick, would 
 he do more than follow the old routine ? Had he any 
 ideas upon the subject beyond those which moved 
 his muscles ? He was capable of good hard labor the 
 young woman after one measuring look had decided, 
 but of what else ? 
 
 Ambler's theories had upset Morgan from his long 
 tenure. Morgan could raise wheat and corn and hogs, 
 and have plenty one year and scarcity the next, accord- 
 ing as Aunt Molly also would have put it to the 
 ways of Providence. Ambler wished to assist that 
 high power in its provisioning and so they had dis- 
 agreed. Morgan was " tiahed o' farmin' anyhow. 
 Done tromp after the plow long enough in my day. 
 An' de chilluns is big enough to go in de mill what's 
 done sot up nigh town. Me an' the ol' woman goin' 
 take it easy fer a spell." So he had gone, like others, 
 to the call of the whistle in the valley. 
 
 Ambler was glad, though she dare not say it. She 
 felt a secret uplift towards the inspiration that Provi- 
 dence might fulfil her desires as well as the wishes of 
 others. She was distinctly pleased with the guise that 
 help at present took, but she was also puzzled. 
 
 It is seldom that any life, at any time, touches another 
 without leaving some trail of memory across it. With
 
 182 Jenifer 
 
 Ambler it was but a bewilderment which showed in 
 the furrow between her black brows and in the quick 
 flash of her eyes; and both vanished while Jenifer 
 watched and divined their cause. He would not help 
 her solve the difficulty. He resolved to be unknown, 
 and trusted to distance and remoteness to keep him so, 
 though he feared he had put his determination in jeopardy 
 by his sudden impulse. 
 
 Joshua hovered near. " Miss Amblah done had 
 dem apple-trees sot out," he announced when they 
 were in the yard. " An' she 'low like dey'll bring de 
 gol' itse'f." 
 
 " They will," asserted Ambler calmly. " Pippins," 
 she exclaimed succinctly, with a wave of her hands 
 towards the new orchard. " You noticed them ? " 
 
 Jenifer pretended that he had taken close observation. 
 
 " An' she done had dem set out on de mountain; 
 an' peach-trees. An* de lan's fittin' fer nothin' but 
 rocks and briars, same like what give de name to de 
 place." 
 
 " You will see what it is fit for," declared Ambler. 
 " You just wait a year or two till the trees begin to 
 bear." The girl was used to arguing with Joshua, 
 teasing him and flouting him, and the old negro adored 
 her. 
 
 " That's about all." Their talk of the trees had 
 come at the end of her explanations. " The place is 
 small, barely a hundred acres " it had been a thou- 
 sand " and there's no getting much out of it unless " 
 But Ambler ended with a sigh. No one believed in 
 the possibilities of her plans, not even Joshua. It was
 
 Jenifer 183 
 
 too soon to speak of them to Jenifer, but she went with 
 him across the yard and wanted to know what he thought 
 of the growing trees. The straight set trunks, the 
 grass-free land were as she had made Morgan have 
 them; and she delighted in the slim, laden branches. 
 " We can ship this year," she told Jenifer jubilantly, 
 looking at them across the brown clear stream. 
 
 A log bridged the brook, and a great walnut-tree 
 shadowed the crossing. Ambler sat down on a root 
 and lifted her hat from her dark head, sighing impatiently 
 as she pushed up her dampened hair. Sometimes she 
 laughed at the futility of her efforts, and sometimes 
 she was tired of it. Now she was tired. Her fancy 
 had leaped too strongly towards the newcomer, and 
 reaction had already begun. 
 
 Jenifer stood near; there were one or two more 
 questions and the young man was in no hurry. 
 
 Foxglove peered into the brown water, and mint and 
 ferns and mosses. Mosses, too, were about the tree. 
 Jenifer remembered how he had sought them in the 
 deep wood. So the baby hair had curled about her 
 forehead, so the child's lips drooped wistfully, so 
 She looked up suddenly, and caught his glance. The 
 red ran up her cheek and a furrow down her forehead. 
 She began questioning him, as a stranger might, and 
 he answered guardedly. 
 
 Ambler's ear was quick. She knew the mountain 
 drawl, the burr of her countrymen, the nasal tone of 
 the Northern newcomer, and the accent of the Eng- 
 lishman. Jenifer's voice was full and round, and of 
 that quality to which she was most accustomed. Un-
 
 184 Jenifer 
 
 consciously Ambler trusted it. Still he had given no 
 clue to knowledge of the country. 
 
 " It's warm to-day," said Jenifer inanely, when she 
 fell back to puzzled silence, " and tiresome, walking 
 about," with a glance at the clinging tendrils of her 
 hair. 
 
 " I don't know. I seldom get tired. The air is pure 
 and invigorating so high up," she said absently. 
 
 " Pretty cold in winter," he ventured stupidly. 
 
 Ambler flashed a quick look up at him. " Cold ! " 
 Instantly she was the merry-faced girl he had come 
 upon in the garden. " It's beautiful ! You should 
 see it. All the mountains dazzling, the valleys white, 
 the peaks there shining," the sweep of her brown 
 hand traced against the sky the range of the hills Jenifer 
 had left, " and the air like like It shames it to 
 compare it with anything. And sometimes," with awed 
 voice and wide eyes and an intent leaning forward, 
 " when the air is still and I don't know what makes 
 it, nor why it comes, nor when it will be heard; but 
 sometimes, when it's still and clear, the Voice sounds 
 over the mountains. Have you ever heard it ? " 
 
 " No," Jenifer was forced to admit. 
 
 " You will. You will," she reiterated as she sprang 
 to her feet. " And when you do tell me what it says, 
 what it is singing about. I never know. I have listened 
 and listened, but " she shook her head. 
 
 " I shall listen and tell you." Jenifer spoke quickly. 
 His tone was warm, his eyes friendly, warmer and 
 friendlier than he knew, and out of keeping with their 
 acquaintanceship and its basis. Ambler was instantly
 
 Jenifer 185 
 
 on the defensive, though her own impulsiveness had 
 caused it. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Wooten, we will look for you in the 
 morning," she called over her shoulder, as she turned 
 towards the house. 
 
 Jenifer crossed the log bridge, but stood amongst 
 the apple-trees to watch her, his fingers twisting a 
 switch he had broken. Very small she was and light 
 of motion, walking up beneath the oaks. She half- 
 turned, he slipped further back, and when he looked 
 again there was but the flicker of her white dress 
 through the door. 
 
 Jenifer's thoughts, as he tramped up the trail, were 
 at first only of her, of the wonder of finding her, and 
 his instant resolve to help her. He had seen the trace 
 of poverty, the rotting fences, the sagging gates, the 
 half-tilled land; and he had seen the girl's perplexity 
 and guessed how she had been hampered. His impulse 
 to aid her had been quick and strong, and with it was 
 mingled some romantic idea of repaying her for the 
 brightest joy his boyhood had known. 
 
 But as the way grew steep he began to remember 
 the preacher, and to laugh to himself as he wondered 
 what the old man would say. Perhaps they would 
 meet somewhere along the way, and Jenifer's gaze 
 searched the narrow climbing paths for Wooten, but 
 he could see little of them, only where they wound here 
 and there. He hurried on. 
 
 " Ye-o ho-e ho ! " A cry rang up the Hollow. 
 
 Jenifer turned. He could see no one, but he sent 
 the mountain call ringing up the gorge, and waited.
 
 i86 Jenifer 
 
 It was repeated and a call : " Hoi' on ! " Jenifer sat 
 down on a moss-grown stone, waitingtill the steps crashing 
 down the path should bring the old man to his side. 
 
 " Well ? " Wooten questioned as soon as he reached 
 Jenifer. Jenifer looked up with quizzical glance. 
 
 " Fin' some corn ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Hm ! " The old man stood straight, his hands on 
 his hips, and peered down into Jenifer's face. " Some- 
 thin' else, too ; what's it ? " 
 
 Jenifer's only answer was his teasing laugh. 
 
 " You you're goin' to take Morgan's place ? " 
 quickly and decisively. 
 
 " Yes." Jenifer got to his feet. " Yes," he repeated 
 soberly, " I've found some work to do." 
 
 " Seems to me like you had a plenty befo'. What's 
 the use of everlastin' lookin' about for something to 
 do ? " Wooten asked fretfully, though the thought had 
 first been his own. 
 
 " The good Lord gives us plenty o' time to look 
 'round an' see what He done made for us; but Ian' ! 
 we're so 'tarnal busy tryin' to rival Him in workin' 
 ourselves, we get no chance to see it." 
 
 Jenifer's smile showed his understanding of the old 
 man's plaint. With his laziness Wooten was yet thrifty. 
 He was everything in spells. He was " hefty," 
 according to mountain phrase, and fiery; and 
 without thinking of it, he ruled the Hollow. 
 
 He was silent as he tramped by Jenifer's side, and 
 when the young man turned off the trail Wooten was 
 still with him.
 
 Jenifer 187 
 
 They sprang from stone to stone, crossing the smaller 
 stream, and stood in the little clearing. The indian 
 pinks flamed at their feet. 
 
 " See the young one, that young woman thar ? " 
 Wooten demanded suddenly. 
 
 Jenifer nodded. His eyes were gleaming with amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 " Gosh ! but she's a sight," vowed the mountaineer. 
 " An' as sassy as a mockin'-bird ever since the day 
 she was born. I know her. I've kept my eye on her. 
 An' nothin' 'minds me o' her but these," stooping his 
 height to the crimson flowers and plucking a handful. 
 " Yes, sir," looking at the pinks in his big fist, " when 
 I see 'em, I think o' her; an' when I see her, I think 
 o' them," admitted this old lover of women.
 
 XIX 
 
 WHEN the sun swung above the far mountains and 
 stole across the high valleys and into the hollows of 
 the misty peaks towering behind The Park, Ambler 
 stood on the porch. 
 
 She had recalled a hundred hints and directions 
 that she must give to Jenifer, and the thought of them 
 had kept her restless at night and wakened her with 
 dawn. She feared Jenifer's industry would bring him 
 down the Hollow before she was ready to see him, but 
 the young man showed evidence of no such haste. 
 Ambler ate her own light breakfast, came out to the 
 bridge which he must pass. Still there was nothing 
 but murmuring stream and golden sunlight, sifting 
 through the walnut leaves; and across the wet grass 
 the long shadows of the oaks. 
 
 After awhile the girl forgot that she was waiting, 
 for the water sang softly on its way, the whisper of 
 the leaves was low, and the air fresh upon her face. 
 She sat down on the end of the old log bridge and 
 leaned with drooping head and dreamy face to watch 
 the sunlit, rippling shallows and brown clear pools. 
 
 Jenifer, skirting the orchard on Lightfoot, reined 
 the horse, and waited for a breathless moment watch- 
 ing her; then Lightfoot splashed through the stream. 
 Ambler was in a second afoot.
 
 Jenifer 189 
 
 She stood with wide, delighted eyes and flushed 
 cheek, as Jenifer rode up to her; but Jenifer knew 
 that every glance was for the horse. The rider was 
 unnoticed. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said softly, as Jenifer sprang from 
 Lightfoot's back. " What a beauty ! " It was char- 
 acteristic of Ambler to forget in her admiration of 
 the horse the reason for her waiting; and her eyes 
 followed every line of slender curving flank and tapering 
 legs and graceful head. " You darling," she breathed 
 ecstatically. " What's her name ? " 
 
 Jenifer, by the horse's head, his hat hiding his amused 
 eyes, told her. 
 
 " I must," she cried, coming close enough to touch 
 her. " She isn't unfriendly ? " and she put her hand 
 on Lightfoot's muzzle, watching the pricked forward 
 ears and tense muscles, as the horse stood ready to 
 shy if the touch were not to her liking. " There's no 
 such horse on this place," she exclaimed, half resentful 
 that it should be true. 
 
 For a second Jenifer accused himself of foolhardiness 
 in riding Lightfoot to The Park. But the trail was 
 long, and plowing was to be the labor of the day; and 
 he was unused to such continuous work. Nor had he 
 thought that his horse might attract attention from 
 either the women of the house or the old negro. Not 
 knowing what to say to Ambler's rapturous apprecia- 
 tion, he stood with startled pleasure listening to it. 
 
 " Does she hunt ? " the girl asked suddenly. 
 
 " I have never tried her." 
 
 " Can she jump ? She looks it."
 
 190 Jenifer 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Ambler whirled about, her gaze searching the yard. 
 A brooklet trickled at the far side of the lawn to join 
 the stream. It was the only boundary between yard 
 and field and it had worn a deep and wide bed for its 
 tortuous way. " Try her at that," the girl instantly 
 commanded. 
 
 In a second Jenifer had swung himself into the saddle. 
 Lightfoot skimmed across the yard, leaped clean and 
 clear, and circled in the field. 
 
 Her rider pulled her up at Ambler's side. " Has a 
 woman ever ridden her ? " asked the girl wistfully. 
 
 " No." Jenifer was delighted with the unexpected 
 moment. 
 
 " I wonder " Ambler left her sentence unfinished 
 and eyed the horse critically. " I don't believe she 
 would mind." 
 
 " Should you like to try ? " asked Jenifer quickly. 
 " Have you a saddle ? " 
 
 "Of course; but this will do." A handful of flat 
 leather was on Lightfoot's back. " If I could ride her 
 at all, I could ride her on that." Before Jenifer could 
 come around where the girl stood, Ambler's hands 
 were on the saddle, she had sprung up to it, gathered 
 the loose reins in her firm hands, and, her slim body 
 bent forward, was urging the horse to a run. 
 
 Lightfoot, sidling from the flapping of skirts upon 
 her flanks, cavorted across the yard. " Take care ! " 
 Jenifer shouted, racing to overtake them. 
 
 For answer Ambler brought the horse in a lope 
 curving around him, settled Lightfoot's paces to a run,
 
 Jenifer 191 
 
 and sped for the leap. It was straight and glorious, 
 but the horse was fretted, her blood afire; and she ran 
 wild. Before Ambler could regain control of her the 
 horse swept under a low tree, and Ambler lay in 
 the grass beneath it. 
 
 " God ! " Jenifer panted, as he ran. He feared to 
 reach her, feared what he would find. She lay still, 
 her arm crumpled under her head, one hand outflung, 
 as she had fallen. His voice choked as he tried to 
 speak, his hand shook as he slid it beneath her shoulder, 
 but at his touch the girl's eyes flew open. She lay for 
 a moment looking dreamily up at him, and then beyond ; 
 and she saw the circling horse. 
 
 Ambler sprang to her feet. " She threw me," she 
 gasped. " She threw me." 
 
 " You are hurt." 
 
 " No. No; had the breath knocked out of me. I 
 am not hurt," she said, impatient at Jenifer's anxiety, 
 as she leaned weakly against the tree. " But that horse, 
 bring her here. Catch her, I say," and, at Jenifer's 
 dumb surprise, she reiterated " Bring her here." 
 
 Jenifer, doubtful what that flashing anger in the 
 girl's eyes presaged, came back to her with Lightfoot 
 tugging at the rein he held. 
 
 " You bad thing ! You wicked horse ! " Ambler 
 scolded, like an angry child. " What made you do it ? " 
 Then in a second her arms were about Lightfoot's 
 neck, her cheek against the horse's head, and Lightfoot 
 stood still and quiet. Ambler looked up at Jenifer, and 
 laughed at the fright, perplexity, and astonishment 
 written on his face.
 
 192 Jenifer 
 
 The girl's hand stole to the bridle loop; and, as 
 Jenifer still watched her with apprehension, like a flash 
 she was on Lightfoot's back, and both were gone. 
 
 Jenifer, racing to the stable in search of a horse with 
 which to make hopeless pursuit, ran into Joshua. 
 
 " What's de mattah now ? " the old man exclaimed. 
 
 Jenifer gasped his errand. 
 
 " Go 'long," Joshua called after him. " Don't you 
 worry yo'se'f. Ain't nothin' gwine huht Miss Amblah. 
 De onlies' hoss up from de pastu'," he added when he 
 caught up with Jenifer, " wouldn't cotch up wid Miss 
 Amblah ef she was afoot. Don't you min' her tricks. 
 You go 'long 'bout yo' work." 
 
 Jenifer could take no such cold-blooded advice and 
 he was half- mad with anxiety when Ambler came 
 riding Lightfoot serenely to the stable gate. 
 
 " I had to take it out of her," the girl excused her 
 deed, " and there is a good piece of ground down the 
 road, and and She had thrown me, you see, and 
 was afraid of me ; and we could never have been friends. 
 Now " she leaned to stroke the horse caressingly. 
 
 Joshua was back in the stable yard, but lifted 
 never a scornful eyelid. 
 
 " I am glad," said Jenifer simply. " The horse 
 will be here in the stable every day. I hope you will 
 ride her often. It will be good " 
 
 " For both." Ambler's laugh bubbled out merrily. 
 " I shall attend to her to-day. Don't wait," seeing the 
 plow, and knowing what had kept Jenifer. 
 
 " Humph ! " snorted Joshua, bending above his 
 pitchfork.
 
 Jenifer 193 
 
 Ambler stood radiant but doubtful. The old negro's 
 disdain was making itself felt, like a breath of raw 
 wind on the warm air or a shadow across the sunny 
 space. 
 
 " She shall have all she wants to eat and the best 
 stall in the stable," the girl was assuring herself gaily, 
 as Lightfoot followed her to the door, and this time 
 Ambler was too near for Joshua to grunt an expression of 
 his anger. The stiffness of his lean body, and the 
 tension of his wrinkled face must show his feelings as 
 she passed, but he could not long restrain himself. 
 
 " Miss Amblah," he called fretfully. " Miss Amblah ! 
 Gawd's sake, ain't you done fussin' 'bout dat hoss yit. 
 Dar ain't a aig in de house," he complained. 
 
 " Have you looked for them ? Couldn't you find 
 any this morning ? " 
 
 " What time I got fer sech things ? " Joshua knew 
 where three lay in the manger and where six were 
 hidden in the loft, and he knew too how Ambler de- 
 lighted to find them; he had left them untouched. 
 
 " Dyar's yo' basket," he said grumpily. " I done 
 brought it down fer you. Ef I'd 'a' known you was 
 cuttin' up so scan'lous " 
 
 " Oh, pshaw, Joshua, hush ! I just did it for fun. 
 And she goes like the wind." The girl shut her eyes 
 tight for a second of ecstatic remembrance. 
 
 Joshua rolled his eyes to look at her, and was silent. 
 
 " Where's the basket ? " Ambler picked it up, and 
 went searching from stall to stall. Her cry and count 
 told when each egg was found; and her eyes were 
 keener than Joshua's.
 
 194 Jenifer 
 
 " A dozen," she called joyously, before she ran up 
 the steep stair to the loft. " A dozen and a half," she 
 cried when she came down. " Six for the house, and 
 twelve to sell. How much are they bringing now ? " 
 
 " Ten cents de las' time I was at de sto'." 
 
 " Well, they won't get them ! " she exclaimed in hot 
 indignation. " No, sir; not a one. I will I will put 
 them in a cake first. I will make one to-day, right now, 
 while it is cool. Joshua, come and make me a fire in 
 the kitchen," she begged in growing enthusiasm. 
 
 " Who ? me ? " Joshua's eyes were wide in pre- 
 tence of intense surprise. 
 
 "Yes, you; come on," Ambler coaxed. 
 
 " Law's-a-mussy ! What is you thinkin' of? An' I 
 got de rheumatiz fit to kill; an' ebery time I ben's my 
 back I git a crick in it." 
 
 " I'll give you a piece of cake first thing." The 
 bait had no effect. " A big piece." Joshua had not 
 yet straightened up. " I'll bake you one in a saucer, all 
 for yourself." The darkey slowly unbended. " There's 
 nothing in this world as good for rheumatism and 
 and ' cricks ' as cake. You know it." Ambler clinched 
 the bargain with dancing eyes. 
 
 " Go 'long, Miss Amblah, go 'long. I'll hab dat stove 
 a-roarin' befo' you beats de aigs." 
 
 Joshua had not looked for one result of the cake- 
 making. Ambler insisted that a generous share should 
 be sent to Jenifer when he " took out " at noon. She 
 had ridden his horse; he should share her treat: and 
 she bade Joshua carry it, which he did as far as 
 the barn, where he found a cool place in the carriage-
 
 Jenifer 195 
 
 shed, sat down, put his back comfortably against the 
 boards, and ate the sweet stuff to the last rich crumb. 
 
 Ambler wondered for a day or two why Jenifer had 
 not thanked her, and then she forgot it. She was find- 
 ing out that Jenifer's ideas coincided with her own. 
 He was a theorist too and he added to theory practical 
 knowledge and clear common sense, of which qualities 
 she lacked at least one. 
 
 Jenifer was in charge, but there were instructions 
 and warnings which Ambler must constantly give. 
 " I forgot to tell you, we arrange with Mr. Mason for 
 his threshing machine in harvest. He will be here by 
 the middle of July." 
 
 Or she would ask about visionary crops. Was it too 
 late to plant harvest peas in the corn-rows ? Was the 
 grass in the meadow not thick enough to cut for hay ? 
 And there were many projects of the young woman 
 who seemed, unfortunately, to gather to her slim self 
 the energy of generations. 
 
 Jenifer had given to his own loved acres not half 
 the interest he gave to these. Those had been to him an 
 enthusiasm and had served as testing-ground for his 
 observations in other lands. These he worked upon 
 with no capital but his brains and no labor but that of 
 his own hands, and he pitted himself against the earth 
 to conquer it. 
 
 At first he was unequal to the task, but day by day 
 his muscles hardened and his strength grew; and he 
 could have never failed beneath the eyes that watched 
 him. He thought that he worked in grim determina- 
 tion, because idleness and memory were intolerable,
 
 196 Jenifer 
 
 and because of the hidden remembrance of long ago, 
 childish friendliness. So he did at first. 
 
 Jenifer's dawning ideal of what life should be had 
 been born from the spirit of mouldy pages. The in- 
 structions of his boyhood had impressed upon him two 
 laudable purposes, to gain an education and to 
 make a living. He had learned the early lesson, crowned 
 it with success, and had begun to see, in those winter 
 days at the Old Place, that he had failed in his blind 
 content and in his withholding from his fellows. 
 
 Now to find that he had shrined an ideal in the inner- 
 most of his strong nature by seeing one who might 
 have fitted to it, and by hearing a woman's laugh which 
 might have been its music! Now, when the way was 
 shut ! To see how clearly matched their thoughts 1 
 To frame amusedly to himself their differences, 
 his silences, her gay speech; his unchangeableness of 
 purpose, her wilfulness! And beyond and beneath 
 was a world of dreams and fancies and thought for 
 which the man had as yet no name. 
 
 There was nothing to forbid Jenifer's friendliness 
 with Ambler. Miss Molly, with her placid indolence, 
 looked no further than her door, her few wants, a 
 neighbor's visits, and her church; and Joshua, with 
 his thunders of growlings and his lightnings of sarcastic 
 speech, made no interference. 
 
 Truth, the old negro had " leP Miss Amblah to 
 herse'f." There had been a joyous day when he had 
 declared that " Miss Amblah gwine do sumpin fer de 
 fam'ly sho," that something meaning a fortunate mar- 
 riage; and he had counted upon his stubby fingers
 
 Jenifer 197 
 
 those whom he thought worthy the gate of Briar Park. 
 He had watched the slip of a girl round to childish 
 womanhood; and he had seen all those he named find 
 their way to the mountain's foot and back again. 
 Ambler had laughed at their love-making, and that 
 no man will endure : flauntings and scornings he may 
 brave, even beratings, but when the woman laughs, the 
 man is gone. 
 
 Joshua had striven to teach her wisdom in vain, 
 and, having failed, he " done give her up." 
 
 Still, even if he had thought of it, the old negro could 
 have found no fault with Ambler's intercourse with 
 Jenifer. She crossed the young man's way not half 
 so often as she had Morgan's; and when she met 
 Jenifer and stopped for speech with him, Joshua could 
 have heard nothing beyond the business of the place. 
 
 Jenifer, however, did not know how keenly he had 
 grown to watch for her; how black was the door when 
 no gleam of her dress lightened it; how empty the 
 yard when, with Lightfoot at his shoulder, he crossed 
 it in the evening, and she was nowhere near; nor 
 how desolate the trail up the gorge when he had caught 
 no glimpse of her. 
 
 There, perhaps, Wooten would be waiting by the 
 way. Jenifer would slip from his saddle, and the sturdy 
 old man would trudge by his side. Sometimes there 
 would not be a word between them. The stars came 
 out above the peaks, and the night wind stole with 
 sighs and whispers through the hollow; and the brawling 
 of the brook was louder as they climbed. 
 
 Often Wooten had a tale of sickness to tell, fever
 
 198 Jenifer 
 
 in the cabin on the highest peak, an unknown ailment 
 in the hut the path wound from the trail to reach. They 
 were to Wooten as his own. Jenifer listened thoughtfully. 
 
 " Who's taking care of the family ? " he might ask, 
 putting his finger on a vital point. 
 
 " Hm ! " would be the old man's only answer. 
 
 " Have they got any meal ? " 
 
 " 'Bout a pint." 
 
 "Flour?" 
 
 " 'Bout a sifter full." 
 
 " Coffee ? " 
 
 " Ain't heard the grinder in that house for a week." 
 
 " Take Lightfoot to-morrow and go down to the store. 
 Yes ; I can walk. You know what they need." Jeni- 
 fer's scant store of money could still spare enough for 
 the bill the old man was thankful to feel in his hard 
 palm. 
 
 Often Wooten followed Jenifer to his cabin. It was 
 spotless, and the cool cleanliness soothed the old man's 
 wistful homesickness; and Jenifer, with his calm good- 
 nature, his quick friendliness, and the bond of sturdy 
 primitiveness between them, eased his loneliness. 
 
 When the stars filled the space of heaven stretched 
 above the peaks, when the fireflies twinkled in the 
 thick grass, and the tobacco was red in the men's pipes, 
 Wooten was fairly content. He had not preached for 
 months, the wild mood not moving him. Something 
 in Jenifer's calmness and strength, and the odd, but 
 close, intimacy between them held the preacher's strain 
 of vehemence in abeyance. Something too. in the 
 singing of the brook and the sound of the wind of the
 
 Jenifer 199 
 
 summer's night upon the mountain. " Son," said 
 Wooten slowly, " this is mighty good." 
 
 And Jenifer, at full length in the dry grass, his pipe 
 smoked out, his hands beneath his head, his gaze on 
 the moon that climbed the peak, to fill the Hollow with 
 shifting silvery lights, echoed him. It was " mighty 
 good."
 
 XX 
 
 " OH, dear ! " cried Ambler impatiently, " I can 
 do nothing with it. First it catches my dress and then 
 my hair. I might as well try to fasten myself against 
 the wall as this; it would be easier. Joshua, catch it. 
 There it comes ; look out ! " 
 
 Joshua ducked the long branch which had escaped 
 her, and stood looking up at " Miss Amblah " swaying 
 on an uncertain ladder that was propped against the 
 wall of " the wing." A storm had beaten down the 
 rose-vine. Verbena and phlox bent heavy heads. The 
 paths were rutty from the rain ; and a wren was singing 
 in the pear-tree. 
 
 " 'Clare, Miss Amblah," the old darkey grumbled, 
 " I don't see what you want to bother 'bout the ol' 
 thing fer nohow; 'tain't wuth it." 
 
 " Yes, it is. Hold it up, higher; towards me. Dear 
 me," she fretted, " if it grew anywhere else but by the 
 dining-room window I'd leave it alone. It could stay 
 where it is. But if I did " she was leaning from 
 the shaky ladder. One hand clutched an upper rung, 
 and the other reached for the thorny arm " if I did, 
 I'd never have another rose to peep in the window while 
 I ate my breakfast. I couldn't miss that. Patience, 
 it's gone again ! " 
 
 200
 
 Jenifer 201 
 
 " Laws-a-mussy ! why didn't you leave the old thing 
 alone ? " A thorn had caught in Joshua's whitened 
 wool; when he reached up to disentangle it another 
 scratched his wrinkled cheek. He had been mad before, 
 now he blazed. " What you look lak anyhow, perched 
 up dyar same lak a sparrer ? Laugh, laugh; you'd 
 laugh if you was a-dyin'. La, Miss Amblah," in sudden 
 contrition, " come 'long down ! You's too big to be 
 triflin' wid sech things." 
 
 " If I were just a little bigger, it would have been 
 done long ago," vowed the girl saucily, her eyes wet 
 from laughter. 
 
 " Perhaps I can fix it for you." Jenifer's tone was 
 grave, his eyes shining. Neither Ambler nor the old 
 negro had heard him coming around the angle of the 
 house. 
 
 " If you would ! " Ambler came gingerly down the 
 few steps she had mounted. " If you only would ! 
 Oh ! " The rickety ladder slid beneath her shifting 
 weight, and flung her backwards. She swayed for a 
 second against Jenifer's shoulder, and then, red as the 
 rose behind her, stood a yard away. 
 
 " If I were only as tall as you it would have been 
 done," she cried in brave defence of her confusion. 
 " Look ! " The gesture of her outspread hands was 
 mock tragedy. It was in comic despair of trailing vine 
 and beaten bush. " The ivy is long enough to train 
 back again. The roses I shall leave alone, all but 
 this. A h ! " long-drawn, and spoken with delight. 
 Jenifer slipped the ladder into place, poised himself 
 lightly upon it, and leaned to fasten the long and thorny
 
 202 Jenifer 
 
 branch by rusted nail and b ken thread. " Thank 
 you," she said sedately, as Jenifer sprang to the 
 ground. 
 
 " I promised Joshua some help about the garden," 
 began the young man stiffly. " I had to take out before 
 the storm; and it is too late to go back again, and 
 so " 
 
 " It's too late to do anything else," declared Ambler 
 lightly. " See ! " The emphatic nod of her head was 
 towards the west. The sky above the peaks was stained 
 with red and the wet walks shone in ruddy light. Swal- 
 lows were abroad, and the black bats beat their wings 
 in the cool air. 
 
 Jenifer smiled at the girl's air of bright assurance. 
 She stood in the walk between the border at the foot 
 of the time-stained wall and the riot of vine and bush 
 behind her, and looked about her with loving eyes. 
 " Sometimes," she said slowly, " I think I must come 
 out here and trim this wilderness. I've gone so far as 
 to bring out the knife and shears; and then " laugh- 
 ing softly at the admission "I never knew what to 
 cut. I couldn't spare a branch or blossom. All I could 
 bear to touch were those, quite dead, without the smallest 
 breath of a bud about them. And so and so " 
 She ended with a quick look at Jenifer and a laughing 
 nod of understanding. 
 
 Jenifer's hands had sometimes ached to be among 
 those things grown wild, pruning them, and bringing 
 them to their best. 
 
 " Well," Ambler laughed and with a gesture put 
 the subject aside. Then she said suddenly with an
 
 Jenifer 203 
 
 emphasis of delight, " Mr. Wooten, those apples are 
 ready to be picked." 
 
 Jenifer wondered what turn of thought or speech 
 would come next. " I know," he said tentatively. 
 
 " I haven't an idea where to ship them. I don't 
 know a thing about it." Her eyes belied the seriousness 
 of her tone. 
 
 Jenifer laughed. Her acknowledgment of help- 
 lessness touched the absurd. " Would you leave it to 
 me?" 
 
 " Would I ! " with a quick clasping of her hands 
 and an eager leaning forward. 
 
 The man laughed again. Her fervent tone, the way 
 in which she caught at her breath, and the widening 
 of her dark eyes were alluring. 
 
 " I am not going to risk leaving them on the trees 
 another day. They are too nearly ripe. Another 
 storm No, they are uninjured yet. I have been out 
 to see. But I'll not risk them longer. I've set my 
 heart too much on success." Ambler had watched 
 Morgan as he set the nurslings out and made him do 
 it as she thought best, now she wanted to prove that 
 she had been right. 
 
 The bloom on the trees had made the young orchard 
 look that spring like a fleece flung at the mountain's 
 foot. The thick-set fruit had been like jewels and their 
 hue had grown to the shade of the sun when it flickers 
 through green leaves. 
 
 " If you will leave them to me, I will see them picked 
 and shipped, and look out for them." 
 
 Jenifer spoke slowly. His fingers had been none too
 
 2O4 Jenifer 
 
 firm about the rose vine. The smell of the scattered 
 petals, of late roses, and of spicy jessamine stifled 
 him ; that, or the sight of her, straight, laughing, 
 demure, or the tingle from the touch of her head for a 
 flashing second upon his shoulder. 
 
 He felt it still. Her dark wilful hair had brushed 
 but a moment against his cheek; the touch of her 
 fingers had been light as a butterfly's wing; yet 
 
 How alert she was! How earnest her eyes, with a 
 flicker of fun ready to break through the gravity of 
 her glance ! The wind blew the curling hair about her 
 forehead. The slender figure was proudly held. Her 
 white gown clung close to it, and the skirt was muddy 
 at the hem. " It is too wet for you to stand there," 
 said Jenifer abruptly. 
 
 " I never thought of it. I have been all over the 
 orchard." She moved away towards the steps and 
 sat down where the house had sheltered them and 
 the wood was dry. 
 
 Jenifer followed and stood talking of some new 
 project, Ambler, chin in palm, listening thoughtfully. 
 
 The man's tall figure was thin, compact, and muscular; 
 his face brown and lean; and lines had cut themselves 
 about his firm mouth. His eyes had lost their old 
 content. 
 
 The sound of their voices was carried to Miss Molly 
 in the porch. The fresh air that blew about her was 
 such as she would have unloosed from the cave of the 
 winds had the door of it been in her grasp. The sparkle 
 on grass and leaves and rough wet trunks was like that 
 of diamonds to her placid gaze. The rush of the full
 
 Jenifer 205 
 
 stream was music. Miss Molly was more than content; 
 she had begun to grow elated. 
 
 She knew from Ambler and Joshua that the wheat 
 had been so well husbanded that it was better than its 
 promise; that not a stalk of corn was strangled from 
 neglect; and she had come to feel but one anxiety about 
 the young man whose efforts brought such results: 
 Would he stay on when his first term was past? 
 
 Miss Molly need not have worried. Late summer 
 with its harvests, the autumn with its ingatherings 
 slipped by; and there was no hint of Jenifer's going. 
 The light was out of the Hollow and the stars above 
 the peaks when he now climbed homewards and in 
 the morning the rocks beneath Lightfoot's hoofs were 
 white with frost. The horse stepped daintily down the 
 slippery trail. The ivy by the path was red, the black- 
 berry scarlet, and splashed with russet on its rough 
 leaves, and, clear yellow and red-tinged brown and 
 glaring crimson, chestnut and oak and dogwood, locust 
 and hickory and gum, ran up to touch with fiery, saucy 
 tips the sky. 
 
 The nights were black in the gorge, and too chill 
 for Wooten to wait by the trail. He might be in Jeni- 
 fer's cabin, a fire blazing ready for the master of it, and 
 the old man comfortable before it; he might have 
 passed on to his own hut after a day's tramping with 
 gun upon his shoulder and keen eyes peering from tree 
 to boulder. The squirrels or the partridges, hung by 
 Jenifer's door, betokened the old man's success. Once 
 a bronzed turkey drooped his wings beside the lean-to. 
 That was the end of the week and Wooten happened
 
 206 Jenifer 
 
 in for Sunday's dinner. The old man could have told 
 before he saw it how the great bird would look and 
 how the smell of the sage would float up to the sapling 
 rafters. Mary must have cooked it; she had cooked 
 them for him. 
 
 The yellow leaves of the slim willows in the thicket 
 blew across the stream that day, and choked it with 
 sodden golden barriers; and the logs of the cabin be- 
 yond and the rocks of its chimney were plain to the 
 old man's sight when he gazed furtively through the 
 little window. Once he saw a slow moving woman in 
 the clearing, and once a sturdy boy. They were good 
 friends, Wooten and the boy, when they met on path 
 or trail, but the mother held aloof. 
 
 There came a night when Jenifer missed the preacher 
 on the trail or by the fireside, and found no token of 
 him at the cabin door. Another day brought still no 
 sign of him. Jenifer was tired, he had been plowing 
 the land for winter wheat and the earth, wet after long 
 rain, had clung to his boot-heel, and the plow cut deep 
 and pulled heavily at his arms, but he climbed to 
 the old man's cabin to see why he had stayed away. 
 
 " Who's thar ? " Wooten's voice demanded. " Who's 
 thar ? who's at that do* ? Come in ! Lan', son, is that 
 you ? " The old man hid his face in the quilts piled 
 close about him. He did not want Jenifer to see how 
 glad, how childishly glad, he was. " Well, I'm glad 
 you're come," he grumbled, when Jenifer stood 
 astonished by the bedside. " Took you long enough 
 to fin' out. Lan' o' Goshen ! " His face twisted into 
 a wry knot.
 
 Jenifer 207 
 
 Jenifer did not ask a question. One glance had 
 showed him the littered room, the fireless hearth, the 
 table where the old man had last eaten, and the candle 
 on the stool beside the bed. Wooten, with agony in 
 every movement, had lighted it for comfort. Jenifer 
 knelt by the hearth, raked the ashes, piled the kindlings, 
 and rolled the logs above them. 
 
 " Had anything to eat to-day ? " he then asked. 
 
 " Don't want it." 
 
 Jenifer brushed the crumbs from the table, swept 
 the rough floor, lighted the lamp, and piled the fire 
 anew. His look searched the tidied room, the high bed 
 where the covers sagged, and the old man helpless on 
 his pillows. He turned on his heel; and Wooten heard 
 him crashing down the mountain. 
 
 " Lan'," he moaned helplessly, " he's gone. Lawd- 
 a-mussy ! " His beard twitched, but the old man lay 
 still. The sound of the crackling logs was friendly. 
 He had heard nothing that day but the brawling stream, 
 and the rising wind, as it shrieked through the gorge, 
 and the trees as they bent before it; and, used as he 
 was to the sounds, Wooten had never before heard 
 them when he was not of them, active. To listen when 
 he could not move a limb, to be shut off from them and 
 hear their wailing, " Lord ! " he moaned, his mind 
 on Jenifer and the loud and rapid step that soon was 
 faint and lost, " Lord, what is he going to do ? Has 
 he gone clean away, an' lef me ? Is he comin' back ? 
 What was that ? " Some night sound, the flitting of 
 an owl past his door, the running of a squirrel upon 
 his roof; but presently a rhythmic sound and a ringing
 
 208 Jenifer 
 
 step. Jenifer stood in the door, and his hands were 
 full. 
 
 The old man watched him with delight. Jenifer 
 found a skillet. Something bubbled in it and sent 
 out a steam to tickle appetite. Loaf-bread^ white and 
 even of grain and brown of crust, was on the table; and 
 the battered coffee-pot shone on a corner of the hearth. 
 
 That night was the first. A week Jenifer was with 
 the old man, night by night; the days were for the 
 fields beyond the Hollow's mouth. 
 
 " Son," said Wooten placidly, on the seventh night, 
 " you go 'long home now. Get a good night's sleep. 
 You done stayed too long already. You can't burn a 
 candle at both ends. If you work by day, you mus' 
 sleep by night. But Sam " he named his own child 
 who sat by the fireside " Sam's goin' to stay. He 
 tol' me his ma sent him." Wooten's tone betrayed 
 sheepish satisfaction. 
 
 Jenifer stretched his arms above his head. He had 
 thrown himself into a low chair by the hearth, and 
 his wet boots were thrust out towards the fire. " All 
 right," he said dreamily. 
 
 " I believe you are half asleep." 
 
 " No." 
 
 Wooten turned his head on his arm. All his move- 
 ments were easier. In a day or two he would be up 
 and " huntin', yes, sir, huntin' ! Think because I got 
 wet one time when I was soppin' from climbin' an' 
 climbin' an' peepin' at one sassy squirrel, an' never 
 seein' the clouds behin' on the mountain till 'twas 
 dark as night, an' the rain was a-comin', think be-
 
 Jenifer 209 
 
 cause I got took down once that I'm goin' to stay in 
 the house. Shucks ! " His impatience had cut short 
 Jenifer's cautions. 
 
 " Son," asked the old man with a glance of mischief 
 from beneath his shaggy brows, " how's that sassy thing 
 down at The Park ? " 
 
 Jenifer sat silent. Wooten, delighted, saw the length 
 of the lounger stiffen. " She's thar yet ? " the old man 
 insisted. 
 
 " Who ? " asked Jenifer coldly. 
 
 " That Miss Ambler. Lord, what a name ! Whar 
 did she git it ? " 
 
 " Her mother was a Miss Ambler," Jenifer's voice 
 was like the air outside, icy. 
 
 " Sho ! " said Wooten easily. Then after a second's 
 pause. " Ever see her ? " 
 
 " I have to." 
 
 Wooten chuckled. Jenifer, his lids lowered over his 
 dark eyes, his gaze on the leaping fire, again saw the 
 glimpse of her he had caught that day. 
 
 The ripened walnuts were thick in the grass and 
 in the stream. The sound of their slow dropping that 
 morning had been like steady firing of distant guns, 
 and the yellow leaves had drifted down with them. 
 In the afternoon Jenifer had seen Ambler husbanding 
 the nuts, with Joshua for aid. A coat that showed her 
 supple curves was buttoned across her breast, and on 
 her black hair was a fluffy crimson cap. She had 
 straightened to stroke Lightfoot's flank as Jenifer 
 purposely led the horse near; and with sparkling eyes 
 she had told of her ride that day.
 
 aio Jenifer 
 
 " I was going down to the store, and well, the 
 road is like a plank, smooth and hard, and these frosty 
 mornings " with an ecstatic breath " and Light- 
 foot;" another sigh of satisfaction, as if words could 
 express the charm of neither. " We heard a horn, 
 way across country, a fox horn. You should have seen 
 her toss her head and listen. She'd hunt splendidly." 
 
 " Try her sometime," Jenifer urged. 
 
 " I will," Ambler declared, in spite of Joshua's 
 grumbling protest. Jenifer's last look back at her, 
 through the leafless orchard, had shown her with the 
 leaves drifting about her feet; and the last sound of 
 her had been the ring of her laughter as she worked 
 with the old negro, and teased and flouted him to rouse 
 his scornful speech. 
 
 " Boun' to see her," Wooten ejaculated. " She's 
 the boss, ain't she ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " An' a good one I'll be boun'." 
 
 The shaft of mischief glanced clear of Jenifer, and 
 the old man gave it up. " Well," he said after a long 
 silence, while Jenifer's lowered lids gave his tired face 
 a look of sleeping, and the boy sat, big-eyed and im- 
 portant, by the fire, his bare feet twisted upon the 
 rungs of his hickory chair, " well, you might as well 
 go 'long. You'll set thar all night li^e you did befo'; 
 an' thar ain't no need to," the old man added softly, 
 for him. 
 
 " Sure ? " asked Jenifer, getting slowly to his feet, 
 and stretching lazily against the spell of heat and 
 dreaminess.
 
 Jenifer 21 1 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 "All right." Jenifer reached for his hat; the door 
 slammed, and he was gone. 
 
 " Name o' Goshen," faltered Wooten, " he's the 
 suddenes' thing I ever saw; the slowes' and the 
 suddenes'." 
 
 That night Jenifer heard the Voice of the Mountain 
 Spirit. The autumn had been foggy, the air heavy, 
 the cold days few, and clear crispness rare. But the 
 storm that caught Wooten on the mountain ended it. 
 The air, as Jenifer strode homeward, was like strung steel 
 to the reflex of sound. The stars were set above the 
 peaks like diamonds held in a sapphire mesh which 
 caught upon the mountain-tops; and through the 
 Hollow the wind sang clear as a fiddler's note when 
 one taut string is lightly struck, than another, and 
 then, softly, the bow is drawn across them all. 
 
 Jenifer opened his door, but turned to look again 
 into the night. Then he heard. Faint and far like 
 the singing of many wires, low and mighty like the 
 roll of distant surf, clear and sweet and high again, 
 a voice! 
 
 It was before him in the gorge, behind him and 
 around him, amongst the mountain-tops, and no- 
 where. He could give its sound no name, its presence 
 no locality. First it thrilled with the fear that follows 
 the footsteps of the unknown, and then its low voice 
 seemed to sing of all unfulfilled promises, and forgotten 
 hopes, and dreams that fade for want of stuff to feed 
 upon.
 
 212 Jenifer 
 
 Strong as Jenifer was, something stung beneath his 
 lids. In the Hollow's dusk gleamed and faded the 
 fancies he had not known to be so strongly cherished, 
 early and material dreams, strange and unforgotten 
 places striking some chord of beauty-love, swaying to 
 some fancied fitness of things and so forever remem- 
 bered, mists in the valley, morning on the peaks, 
 the Old Place in its glamour, a fair-haired woman 
 and the imagery he had draped upon her; and the 
 singing of the stream by his cabin, its stiller music at 
 the Hollow's mouth, its clear shallows, and leaning 
 above them a slender figure with eyes where laughter 
 lurked behind a tender gravity. 
 
 The Voice rose to paean. To him who listened all 
 achievement was possible; all dream paths roads to 
 realization; all longing of the soul a way towards 
 the ordained. No path too steep, no day too long; 
 they led to what the wild strain promised. They led 
 sorrow, defeat, strife, and agony towards that goal 
 prophesied by the mighty singing. Like a last sweep 
 across the strings the Voice of the Spirit of the 
 Mountains died away.
 
 XXI 
 
 " Miss AMBLAH," declared Joshua impressively, 
 " things is a-comin' our way at las'." 
 
 Ambler, poised on the log bridge, peering to see what 
 green things braved the cold beside the stream, or how 
 the moss rounded its cushions amongst the rocks, stood 
 erect and looked across at Joshua's jubilant face. 
 She knew the negro's accustomed crookedness of speech, 
 and that this was but a prelude. 
 
 " 'Clare 'fo' goodness," begun the old negro slowly, 
 as if his attention had been that moment riveted, " but 
 dat pastu' is suttenly a fine one." He spoke of the 
 field where Lightfoot had flung her rider, and stood 
 looking towards it, his long hands behind his back, his 
 lean body swaying forward, and his thick lips pursed 
 momentously. 
 
 Ambler glanced carelessly over her shoulder. 
 
 " Watah a-runnin' dyar all de time, some o' de grass 
 grows de wintah through, an* in summah time 
 er-hum! de flowahs an' de grass! Yit I 'members de 
 time when you could scyarcely see de groun' fer de 
 cows dyar. Now," with biting sarcasm, " dyar's jes 
 one po' cow to de whole fiel'." 
 
 " Poor cow ! " cried Ambler indignantly. " Dulcie 
 is one of the finest cows in the country." 
 213
 
 214 Jenifer 
 
 " Dat's so, dat's so," soothingly. " I nebbah is 
 gwine back on Dulcie, an' her buttah fotchin' de highes' 
 price at de sto' leas 'ways when you'll let me carry 
 it dyar," with resentful flash, remembering how often 
 it had been forbidden him. Ambler would stint herself 
 and her small household of nothing for the sake of 
 selling it. It was one of Joshua's grievances. 
 
 " But " Joshua began to feel his way cautiously 
 " Dulcie she's none too young now, she ain't; an' we 
 been sellin' her calf ebery year. Marse Howard," 
 naming a neighbor slowly and reflectively, " he's got 
 de pretties' little yaller calf you ebbah seed; an' he 
 'lowed he'll sell her for ten dollahs. Not as how I 
 axed him," shaking his head virtuously. " I jes pro- 
 jected erroun' easisome lak, dat day I met him in de 
 road, an' I say what is a Juzzey calf wuth, an' he up 
 an' said he had one he'd sell fer ten dollahs." Joshua 
 rubbed his bristly chin reflectively with the back of 
 his hand and flashed Ambler a glance out of the tail 
 of his expressionless eyes. 
 
 " A little yaller calf down dyar by de side o' Dulcie 
 now, to be sho 'twould be a pritty sight to see her 
 a-sportin' roun', an' kind o' growin' up wid de summah 
 flowahs. Little calves is so lively an' sportsome, an' 
 little yaller calves is suttenly pritty. Dulcie now, 
 she's raid." 
 
 The ripple of Ambler's laughter rang to the house. 
 " And you would like to buy the Jersey ? " 
 
 Joshua grinned, but was silent. 
 
 " All right ! " Ambler ran lightly along the log, 
 and with a spring was on the ground. " It's a good
 
 Jenifer 215 
 
 idea. We ought to have another cow; and it's useless 
 to feed poor stock," an axiom which she had caught 
 from Jenifer. 
 
 " La ! " chuckled Joshua, " an' in a year or two 
 dyar'll be twice de 'mount o' buttah to sell ef I gets 
 a chance to sell it. Miss Amblah, Marse Jen'fah been 
 tellin' me," began Joshua shamefacedly, " 'bout chickens 
 fotchin' a big price norf, early in de spring. An' he say 
 as how he'll fin' out whar to sen' 'em." 
 
 " What in the world would you do with chickens 
 this cold weather ? " Ambler stopped to ask. 
 
 " I done thought o' dat. I'd keep 'em right dyar in 
 de house wid me. Joshua won't min' de little things; 
 no, indeedy. Dey'll be comp'ny dese long wintah 
 nights. Aigs is bringin' a tol'ble price, an' dyar's some 
 to sell ; but ef I could try my han' at settin' 'em " 
 
 " Take all you want." There was a trace of teasing 
 in Ambler's tone. Joshua had withstood every hinted 
 innovation and to talk to him about any new plan was, 
 as the old negro had wrathfully assured her, " lak 
 pourin' watah on a duck's back; don't huht him 'tall. 
 He jes flop his wings an' flirt he'se'f an' go 'long." 
 And Joshua had given a twist of his shoulders and a 
 flap of his elbows in imitation. Ambler had under- 
 stood. The rite of Jupiter Pluvius had been neglected. 
 " Try it all you want," she called back over her shoulder. 
 
 " To be sho now," Joshua chuckled, " we mought 
 make as much off de chickens as we do off Dulcie's 
 calf. De-laws-a-me ! ef dyar's one thing it takes to 
 make money 'tis money;" and he went off, his lean 
 breast swelling high with hopes.
 
 216 Jenifer 
 
 How beneficent is a steady stream of money flowing 
 through a life that has been bare for lack of it ! What 
 tender things, what blades of promise and buds of 
 hope put up beside it! Miss Molly had done so long 
 without things that she scarcely knew what to do with; 
 and her placidity was but a last citadel. All else being 
 charged and won by poverty the garrison of self had 
 withdrawn to this, and held it bravely, with romance 
 for aid and lack of ambition for accessory. But with 
 the counting-in of winter and the hope of spring the 
 uplift of thrift was in the air. Miss Molly felt the 
 thrill of it. 
 
 Tender wheat grew where the embayed fields thrust 
 between the foldings of the mountain foot; the fresh- 
 ploughed land was red; the peak's side smoked with 
 burning of its trees; Ambler and Joshua were for- 
 ever out-of-doors ; but the better for Miss Molly's 
 dreaming. 
 
 Her thumb was often between the worn pages, her 
 gaze longer upon the fire, her placidity threaded with 
 growing purpose; and, like many another quiet nature, 
 she held to her plans tenaciously. 
 
 The beginning of her alluring ideas was about Ambler's 
 clothes. Ambler had bought a dress at the country 
 store, and had put it together neatly, but with a care- 
 lessness of effect. Miss Molly, aiding her, had had 
 her imagination stirred by thinking, as she sewed before 
 the winter's fire, of what her niece might wear and 
 how she might look, and Miss Molly had the artist's 
 perception of shades and colorings which is a gift. 
 
 Warm red tones she longed for, instead of the blue
 
 Jenifer 217 
 
 stuff her fingers handled; and deep browns, with a 
 hint of gold in their glintings, like the sheen of Ambler's 
 hair and the sparkles in the iris of her eyes ; or trailing 
 whites for festive garb, puffed and rounded to show 
 the dimpled arms and slender throat. To leave beauty 
 unadorned is sin. Had it not been hard to see Ambler's 
 slender girlhood throw out hints of promise with no 
 means to foster them or give them proper setting ? 
 So, at least, it had seemed to Miss Molly. 
 
 The thoughts of the city's winters and The Springs' 
 summers, which the child ought to have, had glowed 
 upon the horizon and sunk beneath it, and Ambler had 
 gone her wholesome, light-hearted way, none the worse 
 for the fancied loss. To Miss Molly, missing these 
 things was disaster. They were a heritage, they and 
 the filling of the big rooms, now dismantled, with 
 guests. 
 
 But was the misfortune irretrievable ? Or, first, 
 was Ambler always to go gowned in stuffs which, ac- 
 cording to Miss Molly's dictum, showed such wretched 
 taste ? Had they not now the means of doing more ? 
 Did not Ambler's gleeful talk and Joshua's joyful 
 reckoning mean that something better was at hand ? 
 Miss Molly's shrewd questioning soon elicited all she 
 wanted to know: and then her dreams were deeper 
 and brighter. 
 
 Home mathematics had been long simple. " No 
 balance on hand" expressed them; and "decreasing 
 capital " might have been added. Few women are 
 successful lords of the soil, and Miss Molly's regency 
 had depleted the place. Ambler's heritage was mainly
 
 218 Jenifer 
 
 a tangle of tradition and perplexities, which she strove 
 to break through, finding no weak spot in the hedgings. 
 Now, the girl was wrapped in thoughts of progress 
 and improvements. 
 
 " Mr. Wooten is going to run a new line of fence 
 back of the woods," she announced one night. The 
 two women had been silent before the fire. It was 
 late, and Ambler had loosened her hair and shaken it 
 free upon her shoulders. Miss Molly glanced lovingly 
 at the curling ends and the glint of gold the firelight 
 caught in its dark mass; and she asked a question to 
 which she was unused. 
 
 " What will it cost ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. He can get the rails out of 
 our own woods. Just a man to help him, I suppose. 
 He is going to work on it himself. There's little to do 
 just now." 
 
 "Humph!" said Miss Molly; but even dissent, 
 with her, was good-natured. 
 
 " And the barn roof must be mended. I wish we 
 could have it reshingled." 
 
 Miss Molly was silent. She knew a better use for 
 money, though it was yet too soon to speak of 
 it. 
 
 " Aunt Molly," began Ambler slowly, her cheek 
 dimpling, her eyes glowing, " maybe in the spring I 
 can buy a horse. What do you think of that ? " Ambler 
 leaned over to clasp Miss Molly's round knee, and give 
 it a loving squeeze. 
 
 " What in the world do you want with a horse ? 
 Isn't there one in the stable ? "
 
 Jenifer 219 
 
 " She does not belong to me," declared Ambler 
 proudly. 
 
 " I am not talking of Mr. Wooten's horse," Aunt 
 Molly was clearly impatient, " but Bill." 
 
 " Bill ! He's an old plug. I would not be caught 
 behind him ; and as for riding ! " the tilt of her chin 
 bespoke Ambler's distaste better than words. 
 
 " I am sure I am always glad enough to get him," 
 declared Miss Molly plaintively. 
 
 " That's it; that's just it, Aunt Molly. Bill is needed 
 for farm work. He is not fit for anything else. He's 
 good in the fields, strong and steady; but he's a poke." 
 The ripple of Ambler's low laugh set Miss Molly's 
 lips a-smiling. " And we are going to have 
 a horse just to drive ! " she added, with saucy 
 emphasis. " You know that will be nice. You know 
 you are longing to go all over the country and see 
 everybody you know ! " 
 
 " I should like to go about a little more " 
 
 " I know, I know. I don't mind staying at home. 
 I love it. But you " 
 
 " I always liked company," announced Miss Molly 
 gently, and sat happily silent, while the light leaped 
 and died, and Ambler's eyes were first clear and shining 
 and then dusky and dreamy, and her slender fingers 
 were busied with her hair, twisting it into long and 
 heavy plaitings. " I have stayed at home so long I 
 really would like to go away," Aunt Molly 
 added. 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Molly ! " in quick dismay. " Can't 
 you manage to do it ? Couldn't we get some one to
 
 22O Jenifer 
 
 stay here with me ? I don't believe I should be afraid 
 to stay alone ! " 
 
 "The idea!" 
 
 " I might." 
 
 " Why couldn't you go too ? " Aunt Molly had fired 
 her first gun, and skilfully. 
 
 " I ! " asked Ambler in amazement. " I couldn't 
 leave now." 
 
 " Who said anything about going now ? But in the 
 summer when there is nothing in particular to look 
 after " 
 
 " Oh, well; maybe we might manage it then." But 
 summer was far off; Ambler dismissed the thought of 
 it. She moved slowly about the room, turning down 
 the thick covers on the wide bed, closing the shutters 
 for the night. 
 
 At the last window she lingered. The night was 
 warm and soft, presaging spring; the stars faint and 
 large and luminous with a mist between them and the 
 earth. The smell of burnt leaves and smouldering 
 sedge hung like a pungent breath beneath the trees; 
 and the song of the stream was sweet. 
 
 " Ambler, you'll catch cold, leaning out of that win- 
 dow half-dressed. The room is chilly already." But 
 Miss Molly, spite of her soft scolding, looked content. 
 Her lips were pursed together thoughtfully and she 
 rocked softly. 
 
 Day by day she grew more determined. The oak 
 no sooner put out its buds, the grass no earlier greened, 
 the apple-trees were no sooner abloom, than Miss 
 Molly began to be bolder in her hints.
 
 Jenifer 221 
 
 They went unheeded. Miss Molly found a yellow 
 advertisement, cut out the pictured house with its 
 pillared porch and cottages and rolling lawn, and 
 stuck it in the frame of the looking-glass. 
 
 " What's this ? " asked Ambler carelessly, as she 
 stopped before the mirror to straighten her hair. 
 
 " That ! " in pretended amazement. " Don't you 
 know that place ? " 
 
 " No," serenely. 
 
 Miss Molly, with an attempt at asperity, named a 
 resort in the mountains still farther toward the west, 
 the place where the family had been wont to flock. 
 " I used to go there every summer when I was a girl." 
 She sighed softly. " Oh, Amber," she cried with sud- 
 den burst of frankness, " I wish you could go, just 
 once. I wish you could see it, what it is like; and the 
 people " Her voice trailed off. Ambler had turned 
 slowly, uplifted brush in hand; her eyes were wide 
 with astonishment. " I don't see why we can't go this 
 summer ! " And Aunt Molly had opened full artillery. 
 
 She watched Ambler's dismay with confidence. She 
 knew her niece and reckoned wisely on Ambler's traits. 
 The thing she wanted to do she knew was out of all 
 keeping with her niece's desires; but then Ambler 
 had the rare quality of loving success and progress for 
 their stimulus, and not for the money which they might 
 bring. That, in her generous mind, was as much 
 Aunt Molly's as her own and the older woman was 
 welcome to the spending of it. The girl had thought 
 of restoring rooms and of better barns, but Aunt Molly 
 should have the thing she desired; and Aunt Molly's
 
 222 Jenifer 
 
 old tales and memories and sudden confidences were 
 like the working of a mine. By and by Ambler began 
 to think of it as her aunt intended she should. She 
 began to be anxious to go. 
 
 Miss Molly knew but one feminine nature. Women, 
 nice women, were alike; men might be different. Give 
 a woman a taste of what she should have, and the rest 
 would follow. What woman did not love pretty clothes ? 
 Ambler would, if she knew what they were. And if 
 the niece lacked knowledge, the aunt did not. Was 
 there any art of old-time beguilement old, as the 
 world, alas ! and new as to-day, and lasting long as the 
 love of man will warm to its witchery was there one 
 she did not know ? Little tricks of beauty which a 
 man would smile to see, and love the dainty sorceress 
 the better for his knowledge. Aunt Molly could have 
 charmingly drilled the maid she loved; but she must 
 be wary, for field lore and wood lore and horse lore 
 were Ambler's loves. 
 
 The aunt began with dresses. Briar Park's mail 
 was suddenly heavy with advertisements. Aunt Molly 
 unfastened with delight the brass holdings to fat en- 
 velopes and sent the colorings fluttering. Pink for 
 Ambler, or blue, or white; or corn-color with lines of 
 ebony velvet to give distinction, or roses scattered on 
 pale gauze ? 
 
 The dressmaker that the schemer was driven to 
 consult and to bring, at last, to Briar Park, grew as 
 enthusiastic as herself. Ambler laughed at both and 
 stood impatiently while they snipped and smoothed 
 and fitted; but there came a day when, with ruffles
 
 Jenifer 223 
 
 about her feet and fluffy bodice upon her shoulders, 
 slipping her bare neck, she wondered if the girl the 
 glass gave back were herself. Her dark eyes sparkled 
 at the reflection. 
 
 " Wait," she cried impulsively. " I must have a 
 rose for here and here," touching her bodice lightly. 
 "I know the very buds. They bloomed to-day;" 
 and she was out of the big room in a flash, her pink 
 skirts lighting the old hall, as the apple-blossoms had 
 brightened The Park. 
 
 The women by the bed and its heaped finery laughed 
 softly at the swift patter of her feet and the first flash 
 of her enthusiasm; and they broke into congratulations. 
 They did not notice that Ambler was long in finding 
 a rose. 
 
 When the girl ran down the moss-grown steps with 
 her skirts lifted daintily and her gaze on the buds she 
 had seen that morning, she ran almost against Jenifer. 
 He needed consent for some intended work, and came 
 to get it. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Ambler softly, her dropped skirts 
 swirling about her, her hands clasped in swift dismay, 
 she felt as if she were playing a masquerade. Her 
 cheeks were pinker than her gown; Jenifer's white as 
 the syringa blossoms behind him. 
 
 Something in his eyes, in the tenseness of his face, 
 made the girl saucily defensive. " It is Aunt Molly's 
 choice," she announced, pulling herself together and 
 turning slowly, like a preening bird. " Do you like it ? " 
 
 " It is beautiful," said Jenifer, with stifled voice. 
 
 " Ah ! I like it myself," she admitted naively.
 
 224 Jenifer 
 
 But the thought of herself and her gown was gone 
 in the next breath. " You know we are going next 
 week ? " she asked. 
 
 " Joshua told me. And so " Jenifer spoke 
 quickly of the business which had brought him. 
 
 Ambler's fingers fumbled with the roses as she listened ; 
 Jenifer cut them, laid them in her hands, and, with a 
 gaze that swept bare, rounded neck and dimpled arms 
 and slender form and down-drooped lids, dropped the 
 branches behind him. 
 
 The girl went soberly up the steps. 
 
 It seemed incongruous, all that Aunt Molly planned. 
 Better the easy dress, the light-hearted awakening, the 
 sound of the stream, and the sight of empurpled peaks. 
 What did she care for the crowds, or for the gaiety 
 that had been so brightly pictured, while the laurel 
 bloomed like drifting snow between the boulders, and 
 the fox-grape hid its clustered blossoms ? 
 
 To leave these ! and for what ? She would be bored 
 to death where there were people to be forever talked 
 to; tired to extinction where there were always watch- 
 ing eyes; wearied past endurance by the things Aunt 
 Molly cared for. 
 
 But she was not! Aunt Molly had well gauged the 
 young girl's heart. The loving manoeuverer but slipped 
 the hood upon her falcon's eyes to let her see. It was 
 a pastime flight, no warfare; and the aunt had been 
 sure of the graceful sweep ; nor was she wrong. Some 
 prisoned spirit seemed to break its bars within Ambler's 
 heart : it ruled her with a wand whose witchery reached 
 to others.
 
 Jenifer 225 
 
 Ambler was new and fresh to the life. The blue of 
 Aunt Molly's eyes deepened as she watched the girl 
 come into what she had desired for her, beauty, bright- 
 ness, laughter ringing true from ready lips, quick and 
 kindly speech : and eyes of others to see, and ears of 
 others to hear. 
 
 It was dreadful to Miss Molly to turn her back upon 
 the places of her victory. Ambler seemed not to care. 
 She ticked off on impatient fingers the hours of their 
 journey homeward. " Seven hours five four 
 three one ! We're nearly there, Aunt Molly, nearly 
 home ! Will Joshua come to meet us ? Oh," in 
 whispered rapture. " here we are ! " 
 
 The wheels whined against the rails, the store slid 
 into view, the waiting-shed. " Oh, oh," in ecstasy. 
 "Look, Aunt Molly, look!" 
 
 Joshua, too erect to do more than turn his head, 
 sat in the buggy, which was shining with fresh paint. 
 The old negro himself had bedecked it with patient 
 hands, " to see de ladies home." Joshua's fingers, 
 for all their pretended tightness on the reins, trembled 
 as he slowly turned his head. " Gawd's sake ! " he 
 cried, as Ambler flitted down the steps. 
 
 The girl wore the gown she had donned before she 
 went away, and it showed its wearing, but the con- 
 ductor stood with bared head, the brakeman's arms 
 were filled with wraps, the porter grinned near by; and 
 the train that should have been flying was held till the 
 conductor accompanied the young woman to her 
 carriage steps. 
 
 Joshua looked at the straight uniformed figure that,
 
 226 Jenifer 
 
 with its hand still on the bell-cord, leaned to gaze, 
 and at the laughing women. His welcome was short, 
 his words were few; but the old darkey could have 
 cried as Bill took up his steady trot. 
 
 He knew those wiles, those smiles and glancings 
 from beneath dark lashes, those demure allurements. 
 They belonged to the women of his house; and he 
 had thought them lost. " Miss Amblah had done 
 foun* 'em somewhar, an* fetch 'em home. Praise 
 Gawd! Hallelu!" 
 
 It was a day or two before Joshua wondered on 
 whom these blandishments could be practised. He might 
 have spared himself anxiety. There had been a young 
 man at The Springs who made haste to remember a 
 cousin dwelling in the neighborhood; and the proudest 
 day the old negro had known was when a strange 
 horseman found his way along the road that wound to 
 Briar Park. 
 
 Joshua took the visitor's horse and showed the young 
 man into the big bare hall, turning away chuck- 
 ling. 
 
 He went into the dismantled parlor where the wind 
 sighed through broken window-panes, and opened the 
 door that led into the library beyond, where the hearth 
 was filled with fallen bricks ; and he shook his grizzled 
 head. The others, those " boys Miss Amblah had 
 done growed up wid " had not mattered ; but this, a 
 stranger ! " She'll hab to tek her chances," the old 
 man muttered. " She'll hab to tek her chances." 
 
 They were good as far as this visitor was concerned. 
 The man was handsome, and his city-dwelling family
 
 Jenifer 227 
 
 unimpeachable. If Aunt Molly had carved him from 
 her old romances, he could not have been better 
 fashioned. He sang, he danced, he rode; he was 
 clever in the new games of which Miss Molly knew 
 not even the names; and he could make a living. Miss 
 Molly had taken the pains to inquire. 
 
 It seemed as if Victory, who had so long pointed the 
 backward tips of his pinions toward her, faced her 
 now with full sweep of his magnificent wings. For the 
 young man was undeniably in love, and Ambler was 
 " was interested," the spinster softly whispered to her- 
 self. Further, modesty would not penetrate. How 
 could Aunt Molly dream that the stir of love might be 
 in a young woman's pulses and she mistake the man 
 who had awakened it? 
 
 She made Ambler's way too easy, and fostered the 
 new interest too faithfully. Aunt Molly took to house- 
 keeping, for Ambler must not be disturbed. She took 
 to urging the young man, when he came, to stay to 
 meals, whose bounty made Ambler flash mischievous 
 glances towards Aunt Molly, whose flush betrayed her. 
 And what places for love-making were the deep porch, 
 the shadowed yard, and the borders of the stream ! 
 
 Aunt Molly would shut her eyes and give fancy a 
 loose rein, when she saw the flicker of Ambler's white 
 dress beneath the trees and the straight figure that 
 attended. To have stood there herself, to have been 
 slim and young and beautiful, to have heard hot words 
 and felt her pulses thrill If God had leaned to ask 
 Aunt Molly name her heaven, so she would have termed 
 it, had she the skill to divine the thing she most desired.
 
 228 Jenifer 
 
 So she would have chosen for a space, while the High 
 and Mighty Holies waited her tarrying steps. 
 
 So all things fostered the young love, all but one. 
 
 Jenifer passed " Miss Amblah " in the dusk of a day 
 that had been close and hot. It was late summer, and 
 the cries of the katydids and crickets rasped him. He 
 was tired; with work, he thought; but it was not that. 
 Labor and hope were made man's blessing; labor and 
 despair, his curse. Jenifer had come to the last. 
 
 By what path he had reached it he did not know, 
 nor the name on the dark lintel of the house where he 
 abode; but through his tired limbs and down his spent 
 nerves the spirit of it ran and peered from his darkened 
 eyes. Its chisellings deepened the lines upon his face, 
 and curved his mouth. Even Lightfoot felt the lassitude 
 of his touch upon her rein as she splashed through the 
 water, her head drooping listlessly. 
 
 Meadow-sweet and queen's lace and yarrow bloomed 
 high beside the stream, and brushed the horse's dappled 
 sides. The apples were ripening. Their rich odor and 
 the acrid smell of tasselled corn were in the air. 
 
 Jenifer heard a step amongst the apple-trees and a 
 rustling of thick leaves, and, when he turned his head, 
 he saw a slim, light-clad figure with arms uplifted and 
 face upraised. The young man flung himself from 
 his saddle and strode towards Ambler, bending his 
 head beneath the branches. 
 
 She turned with the quick, merry air which was one 
 of her new witcheries. She had been sometimes grave 
 before and sometimes slow-spoken, with a wholesome 
 laughter that waited for slender coaxing. Now the
 
 Jenifer 229 
 
 very air about her seemed gay and touched with tender- 
 ness. She waited, one slender hand still on the bough, 
 the loose sleeve slipping from her rounded arm, her 
 laughing face gleaming in the dusk. 
 
 " I am counting them," she said gaily. " There 
 are more apples than last year, twice more." 
 
 " Miss Ambler," Jenifer ignored speech and 
 laughter and any commonplace. He went straight to 
 the question he meant to ask, " Miss Ambler, you 
 are to be married ? " 
 
 The arm trembled a little on the apple-bough and 
 she leaned her cheek against it. " Yes," she breathed. 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 The sudden gravity of her face and the whiteness of 
 her cheek he had never before seen. Her smile was 
 wistful. 
 
 " In the fall I am afraid," she whispered.
 
 XXII 
 
 A BEAM of light shone like a search- light through 
 Jenifer's open door. It showed the clean bare floor, 
 the black rough fireplace, the whitewashed walls, the 
 low rafters, and an untouched bed. Jenifer was 
 moving slowly about the lean-to; his eyes were wide 
 and bright from sleeplessness. 
 
 The sunshine lay warm on his doorstep. The shadow 
 of the locust leaves flickered across it; and a white 
 butterfly settled in the warmth, his wings fluttering in 
 the faint wind that stole with morning up the Hollow. 
 A catbird sang his liquid morning song amongst the 
 willows. A listening mocking-bird caught up the song 
 and broidered it, and flung it back in exultant ecstasy. 
 The sound of the stream was strong and musical. In 
 the jubilant waking world the man alone was desperate. 
 
 The night had brought Jenifer no rest, the morning 
 no freshness. Lightfoot was whinnying in her stall, 
 and he crossed the wet grass listlessly, and loosed and 
 fed her. At the shelter door he stood irresolute. The 
 drenched grass sparkled at his feet, the dew dripped 
 from the bent ferns, and, shining amongst them, a 
 cluster of pinks flared their crimson to the sun. 
 
 Jenifer stooped to them suddenly, and, as a step 
 crashed in the thicket, strode across the clearing, down 
 230
 
 Jenifer 231 
 
 the rough path to the stream, sprang over it, and up the 
 mountainside. 
 
 Where the brook came leaping down above Jenifer's 
 cabin, it curved close beside the beetling peak, and the 
 rushing water cut beneath the trees. The rocks piled 
 high in the stream's bed; and the spot was as remote 
 as if no man had ever found his way into the pockets 
 of the peaks. 
 
 In the deep shadows, Jenifer was indistinguishable; 
 at his feet the stream split into a hundred rills and 
 spun its threads of brown, or bubbled in deep worn 
 hollows. Ferns rose up beneath his hand. Lichens 
 clad the rocks. Up the peak the sweet-gum flickered 
 a flag of red, setting the earliest danger signal for the 
 frost. 
 
 Jenifer's thought, the worse for him, was clear. He 
 could follow the steps of his life, at last; and to gauge 
 them was agony. He bent his arms upon his knees 
 and leaned his face within his hands; and, as the water 
 ran, so there slipped before him hour and day and 
 deed. Suddenly, at some stinging memory, he straight- 
 ened and flung his arm despairingly above his head. 
 The gesture was seen by one who, keen-eyed, climbed 
 the wood. 
 
 Wooten, slipping down the mountainside, and spring- 
 ing from rock to rock, unheard above the water's rush, 
 swung himself down by Jenifer's side. Jenifer threw 
 back his head. His eyes flamed with anger. 
 
 Wooten would not see it. " Son," he said with a 
 hand on the young man's shoulder, " Son ! " 
 
 Jenifer shook off the touch impatiently. The old
 
 232 Jenifer 
 
 man looked down at his white face and tense mouth, 
 and then at the foaming water. He glanced back again, 
 quickly and keenly; and he settled himself imperturb- 
 ably by Jenifer's side. He was shrewdly silent. 
 
 His pipe was in the sagging pocket of his coat, and 
 Wooten lighted it, puffed slowly at it, and watched 
 the curl of smoke float up beyond the rocks. 
 
 " Sort o' lazy day," he said as if in deep satisfaction. 
 
 A movement of Jenifer's shoulder was his only answer. 
 
 " Ain't got much to do now ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Sort o* breathin' space; summer work 'bout done, 
 an' fall ain't sot in good." 
 
 " This worl' is a mighty good ol' place," the old man 
 went on after a long silence, " mighty good. An' look 
 like she's always tryin' to teach folks somethin'. Gives 
 herself a long rest in winter an' a spell now an' then 
 when she's settled down to business good an' steady, 
 like nowabouts. But Ian', we don't learn a thing. We 
 go her one better every time, an' work day in an' day 
 out; an' some ain't got no mo' sense than to be proud 
 of it. 'Tain't so intended. Son," turning to Jenifer, 
 " you've been workin' too hard yourself; never no 
 res' right straight along from the day you first started 
 down thar," with a wave of his hand in the direction 
 of the Hollow's mouth. 
 
 " You've been sort o' peaked like ever since Ian', 
 I don't know when ! Ain't gettin' the fever ? " he asked 
 anxiously. " Lemme feel your pulse." The old man's 
 hand was on Jenifer's wrist before the younger thought 
 to evade him. " Hm ! Lemme see your tongue. Good
 
 Jenifer 233 
 
 Ian', you needn't get so mad about it. Ain't you nussed 
 me ? Ain't you sot up with Hutchins night after night ? 
 Ain't you done look after Stith when he was down ? 
 Don't you expect nobody to do nothing for you when 
 you need it ? " the old man demanded wrathfully. 
 
 Jenifer's curt assurance that he was all right was not 
 satisfying. 
 
 " U-m ! " said Wooten, settling back against the 
 rocks. " Nices' place I've found for a long time. Coin' 
 to stay all day ? Shucks ! I didn't mean right here, 
 in this pertickler spot. Sun would strike you 'long 
 'bout evenin', an' set you sizzlin'. But here home ? " 
 
 Jenifer assented. 
 
 " Good thing, too." Wooten stretched out his long 
 legs and pulled at his nearly empty pipe. A yellow 
 bird flitted from rock to rock, and the old man's gaze 
 followed it carelessly. It took sudden flight downward, 
 and dipped into the stream beyond; Wooten's glance 
 fell on the pinks that wilted by the young man's side. 
 
 The flowers accused him. The old man's heart had 
 been wrung with anxiety: now amusement bubbled 
 in its place. He chuckled to himself. Was this it? 
 The cure was the easiest in the world. If the boy had 
 been getting sick ! But this ! 
 
 " That Miss Amblah down thar turn clean out this 
 summer," he began, striking his subject lightly. 
 
 " Got a beau, too," probing deeper, and with mis- 
 chievous intent. " Good lookin' ? " 
 
 " Good enough," Jenifer assented shortly. 
 
 " You don't say so," innocently. " Rich ? " 
 
 " I don't know."
 
 234 Jenifer 
 
 " Good match ? " 
 
 " I suppose so." Jenifer's lips were tight pressed. 
 
 " Married soon ? " 
 
 " What do you want to know for ? What have you 
 got to do with it ? " Jenifer's face was as white as the 
 foam. His eyes blazed; but Wooten only chuckled 
 gracelessly. 
 
 " I sort o' thought I sort o' thought " 
 
 The clutch of Jenifer's hand on th"e preacher's knee 
 was like the closing of a steel spring; but the old 
 mountaineer feared no man on earth; this man least 
 of all. He was angered to further daring. 
 
 " I sort o' thought you wanted her yourself," he 
 drawled. " Here ! Sit down ! None o' that foolish- 
 ness. Think you could hurt me ? Get back thar ! 
 Son ! Son ! " Jenifer had loosened his furious hold, 
 slipped down on the rock, and hidden his face on his 
 arm. 
 
 " Son ! " Wooten's touch upon the lowered head 
 was infinitely tender and his face was as white as the 
 leaping water. " Couldn't you git her ? " he whispered. 
 
 " I never tried." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 Jenifer threw back his head. He gazed straight up 
 into the old man's shrewd, hurt eyes. " Because I 
 I have a wife." 
 
 " Sho ! " The old man's eyes flashed like steel. He 
 reddened from the open collar of his shirt to his sun- 
 burned hair. " Shucks 1 " he said under his breath. 
 "Whar?" 
 " Home."
 
 Jenifer 235 
 
 " Yours or hers ? " 
 
 " Hers," shortly. 
 
 "And you here?" 
 
 Jenifer's gesture was hopeless. It dismissed the 
 subject. His admission had been made. 
 
 "Tired o' her?" 
 
 Jenifer clenched his hands. 
 
 " Think anything o' her now ? " 
 
 God, what questions ! Jenifer had asked them of 
 himself: and he had answered. 
 
 " Does she care for you ? " 
 
 " No," was wrung from him. 
 
 " Some other man ? " 
 
 Wooten saw his answer on Jenifer's face. 
 
 " Let her have him; and take the woman you want." 
 
 The old man squared his shoulders. His hands 
 were on his hips ; his eyes were fiery. " Think because 
 you marry a woman once you got to hang on to her an' 
 let her dog the life out o' you, an' you worry hers out 
 o' her. Think you got to stay with her day in an' day 
 out ? Got to stick to her whether you want to or not ? 
 You make yourself miserable, an' her miserable, an' 
 maybe somebody else, too. For what ? " 
 
 Jenifer smiled bitterly. His scorn of Grame was too 
 deep for him to have included the Englishman in his 
 reckoning. But Alice! As he felt, with that agony 
 riving his heart, was it so she had loved the man ? And 
 might her step not have been taken as ignorantly as he 
 had trodden his own way of passion ? But his common 
 sense beat back. He knew her shallowness and that 
 her loves were material. But his knowledge had dawned
 
 236 Jenifer 
 
 too late, and he had made her as well as himself pay 
 the price of his ignorance. 
 
 He had acted masterfully and swiftly; and he had 
 kept himself to the thing he had vowed. Now, doubt 
 swept him like a tide. He had seen all night, through 
 the illuminating flash of his agony, Alice's frightened 
 face, or the tower with its crown of fire, or the black- 
 ened house with smoke drifting about its fallen chimneys. 
 
 He knew he loved Ambler beyond his dream of man's 
 possible passion; he had put away his wife, yet held 
 her to the bond, her and himself; and Ambler would 
 marry a man he hated because that man dared to love 
 her and was free when he himself was bound. He had 
 overridden all other intricacies and questioned his action 
 in none : before this, Jenifer was helpless. 
 
 " Son," said Wooten steadily, " when you come into 
 the Hollow I know 'twas somethin' behin' pushin' you : 
 but it made no difference. I know a man when I see 
 him, an' I knew you were one. Such you have lived 
 right here. But now " The old man stood silent, 
 and there was something stern in his look. 
 
 " This ain't all. Somethin' else is twistin' it up; an* 
 you done tol' enough to let the res' follow. 'Tain't no 
 use to keep things hid up all the time. You done kep' 
 things too long to yourself. You been goin' too long 
 single-handed. 'Tain't good for you." 
 
 Jenifer's silence was unbroken. The old man sat 
 down patiently by his side. 
 
 " Thar ain't no man nor woman nor chile in the 
 Hollow that don't like to see you goin' up an' down 
 the ways; an' you know, an' we know, how you've
 
 Jenifer 237 
 
 holp when you've had a chance, holp mo' than you 
 ought. Now " the prophet blazing up within him 
 " thar's a new path. Tain't so clear," with fervid 
 gaze upward, " but I see it. Thar's somethin' waitin' 
 for you to do. You done learned your lesson here. 
 Son," leaning forward, " you goin' tell me the thing 
 that brought you here; an' maybe we'll see the way 
 that takes you out. Maybe! I don't want you to go. 
 I want you right here. But now 'tis time to speak." 
 
 " Speak ! " In the primitiveness of each nature was 
 the strongest bond Jenifer had ever known. The tense 
 lines of Jenifer's face relaxed. His eyes burned into 
 the preacher's face. 
 
 He began slowly, a broken word, a phrase, a sentence; 
 they ran together, were continuous. Long pauses were 
 between his sentences. Here but a word or two told all 
 he meant to tell, the preacher's fancy filling in between. 
 
 " God ! " said Wooten once. 
 
 And then an oath. 
 
 "God-a-mighty!" 
 
 Then silence. Jenifer had ended and Wooten rose 
 stiffly to his feet. 
 
 On one point he had put his finger. He had ques- 
 tioned and cross-questioned the manner of Jenifer's 
 wealth-getting, and he understood. 
 
 " Son," he said, swaying upon his feet, " son " 
 his scorn was magnificent "I never stole."
 
 XXIII 
 
 " LORD ! Whar is he ? 'Tain't a night and day since 
 I left him, an' he didn't say a word 'bout not bein' 
 here; an' now he's gone. I said wrong. I done said 
 wrong. I done egged him on; an' he needed to be 
 holp. He was clean down, an' I I tol' the truth; 
 the truth," the old man defended himself. " But he's 
 gone. Didn't say a word to you ? Didn't leave nc 
 word for me ? Lan' o' Goshen, Mary, whar do you 
 s'pose he is ? " 
 
 Mary's bonnet had fallen back from her head. Her 
 ruddy hair shone in the red light of the setting sun; 
 and the wildness in Wooten's eyes was reflected in her 
 own. He had seized her wrists as he talked. 
 
 " Ain't nothin' gone but the clothes he come here in, 
 an' his hoss ; but that's all he brought with him. Gawd ! " 
 Wooten groaned, " Gawd-a-mighty ! Everything jus' 
 as he lef it. It looks like he's dead, dead an' gone 
 for good. Was this do' open, jus' this way ? " 
 
 The door of Jenifer's cabin swung wide. Yellow 
 locust leaves blew in across the sill. A squirrel ran on 
 the roof, and chattered angrily at the man and woman 
 in the little clearing. The sun was below the peaks, 
 and the green-lipped Hollow a chalcedony cup filled 
 to its brim with golden vapor for the drinking of the 
 238
 
 Jenifer 239 
 
 god whose gray wings trailed slowly across the high 
 valleys. 
 
 " You come this mornin' ? " Wooten demanded. 
 
 The woman nodded. 
 
 " Nobody here ? " 
 
 " Jus' like this," Mary's soft voice assured him. 
 
 " An' again to-night ? " 
 
 " Again to-night." 
 
 "We done lost him. He's come, an* he's gone; an* 
 we " a sudden thrill shook the old man. His grasp 
 on Mary's strong wrists tightened. The woman, with 
 lips apart and head flung back, listened. 
 
 The golden sky was clear from peak to peak. No 
 feather of cloud flecked it. The wind was strong, of 
 the north; the air vibrant, resonant. A whisper stole 
 down the gorge. No leaf had made it; nor breath of 
 human given it voice. It was an echo of a song, the 
 strain itself, sweet and seizing upon the heart. Full 
 and clear it filled the Hollow and rippled up above the 
 mountain-tops to spill its melody upon the hills. 
 
 " God ! " whispered Wooten, the sweat thick on 
 his forehead, " The Voice; 'an summah-time ! The 
 Voice! " rigid till the strain died away. " A sign; 'tis 
 a sign ! " He flung the woman's wrists from him. 
 " Preachin'," cried the zealot, " thar'll be preachin' on 
 the mountain to-night. Pass the word ! Pass the word ! " 
 His voice rang back as he sprang across the rocks towards 
 the trail. 
 
 The woman ran fleet as a deer towards her cabin. 
 In a moment her boy sped the message along the paths. 
 Wooten called it to a cabin; its inmates to another;
 
 240 Jenifer 
 
 and from that a " Ye-o ho-e ho ! " rang to the hut 
 across a deep, tree-shadowed chasm. 
 
 Torch-light flared up beneath the still's roof. On the 
 planks sat awed men and frightened women. Wooten's 
 voice rang down the mountain's side, and the boulders 
 flung back the echoes of his denunciations against sin, 
 picturing that hell which yawns for sinners, till the glare 
 and hiss of its eternal fires seemed but beyond the wall 
 of friendly darkness. 
 
 Stealing, the preacher shouted about ; and the sinewy, 
 weather-worn men were afraid to turn face to face. 
 One remembered the rails he had filched to build his 
 pen; his neighbor, the shoat which should have been 
 in some man's yard, but the sweet meat of which was 
 now cooling in the flow of his own spring; and in the 
 dusky corner the man who shielded his eyes with hard- 
 ened hand saw a dewy night, young slips of trees in 
 fresh, red earth, and himself stealthily loosening the 
 slender roots and piling higher the bundle. The fruit 
 of the tree by his door was suddenly distasteful. But 
 these trifles were between neighbors. It was not of these 
 the preacher thought, but of those who robbed great 
 things, and did it knowingly. For such the mountain 
 had its own law. 
 
 Jenifer, that night, sped down the mountains. A 
 waved lantern had flagged a fast train which wound 
 its way across the peaks far from the Hollow, climbing 
 and doubling on its way, sailing across bridged chasms 
 and rocky runs, down towards towns and cities and 
 spreading fields; and, in the morning, by the tide. 
 
 Mists clung above low lands and wide and blue a
 
 Jenifer 241 
 
 river ran beyond the rails. Tide-swept marshes crept 
 to the road-bed, and at blazing noon the wide, deep, 
 salt harbor of a city near the sea lay beneath his unseeing 
 eyes. 
 
 The sun still shone hot and dazzling when Jenifer 
 swung himself up the dust encrusted steps of the short, 
 slow train which clanked its way through the Carolina 
 woods. The conductor was not the man he had known 
 and chaffed at the road-crossing by the swamp; by 
 chance the few passengers of that day were alike strange, 
 and, as they gathered on the friendly seats which boxed 
 the empty stove in the first compartment of the coach, 
 foregathering with one another, Jenifer was left to the 
 rear, which was arranged in ordinary fashion, and to 
 the wooden seats, the open windows, with the dust 
 blowing through, and to the dank smell of the swamps, 
 the clean breath of the pines, and the first glimpse of 
 the cotton-fields. 
 
 The leaves were green with a burst of white here and 
 there along the lines of husky pods; the tall corn had 
 tasselled, and the ripple of its ribbons ran to the line of 
 dusky pines. The tobacco was gray-green and broad 
 and strong. The land ran level, spread like a die; 
 live-oaks grew in the sand, with a pale gleam of mistle- 
 toe between lusty leaves; the moss-covered shingles of 
 an old church, a thicket of cedar and gall-berries, then 
 the rails were lowered for the track to spin across a 
 wide and sandy road. Jenifer swung himself from the 
 train when the engine wheels ground by the cypress- 
 bowered tank. 
 
 The store, with its evening shadows, the gin, the
 
 242 Jenifer 
 
 whitewashed fences, the shining oaks about the house, 
 the long white way, Jenifer might have left them 
 yesterday. But across the track was change. A high 
 paling shut in a wide yard, and above the fencing showed 
 chimney stacks. As Jenifer stood uncertain where first 
 to turn, a cart whirled from the gate, and, the driver 
 standing straight, but swaying to the cart's lurch like 
 a sailor to his ship, sped up the road in a cloud of golden 
 dust. Life was there, and Jenifer crossed to seek it. 
 
 The yard, to his astonished gaze, showed thick 
 powdered dust, with line upon line of cart-wheels cut 
 into it. The building was large. A wide porch ran 
 before it. Heavy scales were on the porch, and sacks 
 of peanuts; and, by them, Mr. Cross. 
 
 He was weighing the sacks carefully, and his back 
 was towards the newcomer, as was that of the farmer 
 who watched the lines upon the measuring-rod as 
 keenly as the weigher. 
 
 " Fifty-six pounds," Mr. Cross announced. " Three 
 and a half cents a pound; that's what I am pay- 
 ing." 
 
 " Go ahead," said the farmer tersely. But Jenifer's 
 step sounded on the porch. Both men turned. The 
 sack Mr. Cross had lifted rattled on the scales. " Great 
 Governors!" he cried; "name o' wonder! Jenifer!" 
 He sprang towards the young man, and Jenifer grasped 
 him eagerly by the hand. 
 
 In spite of the purpose to whose wished-for swiftness 
 of fulfilment the speeding train was like a becalmed 
 ship, Jenifer's delight was keen at the warmth of wel- 
 come. His tense mouth curved with sudden, wistful
 
 Jenifer 243 
 
 pleasure. " Didn't look for me ? " he asked boyishly. 
 " Didn't hear the train ? " 
 
 " Lord, no; half the time I don't know when it comes 
 or goes. But now Here, Dick, weigh up for yourself. 
 Put the memorandum here," throwing a small book 
 and a pencil on the long arm of the scales. " Come on 
 in. Now ! " as they stood in the big, machinery filled 
 room, and the two men fell back from each other, 
 measuring one another with friendly challenge. 
 
 Jenifer, raw with introspection, flushed hotly. 
 
 Mr. Cross was quick to see it and relieved the tension. 
 " Well, I would have known you anywhere. You haven't 
 changed much. Yes, you have, too. Thin as a rail, 
 and Lord, what does that matter ? Glad enough to 
 see you back. You were long enough coming. Lots 
 of change here, right here." There was an awkwardness 
 in the moment. Jenifer was too bent on his purpose 
 to talk easily till that should be accomplished; and 
 Mr. Cross's mind was whirling with the thoughts which 
 had stolen often through it and were now rushing to a 
 swift focus. Neither, for all their sudden flush of 
 pleasure, knew what to say. " Put up this factory since 
 you left." 
 
 " I see." 
 
 " I just want you to go over it. You are going to stay 
 for awhile ? " 
 
 "I If you will have me," with sudden change 
 from his first uncertainty, a change caused by the ex- 
 pression on his listener's face. 
 
 Something in Jenifer's steady eyes sent a thrill of 
 hope along Mr. Cross's nerves. Long ago he had blamed
 
 244 Jenifer 
 
 himself for th< thing he had allowed the boy to do. 
 They had been right, both of them, only day by day 
 he had seen a higher way and its possibilities for others : 
 and he would have set out to correct what he now 
 thought wrong had he not dreaded to seek Jenifer out. 
 Only at the bank was there news of the young man, 
 and that brief and bare. 
 
 " When did you start this ? " Jenifer asked, break- 
 ing the awkwardness. 
 
 " Last year." Mr. Cross clutched at the chance of 
 talk. " Paying well, too. All the farmers about here 
 taking to raising peanuts, nothing but peanuts. Come 
 along; let's go over it; or stop, right here's the spot 
 to start with." The place was filled with machinery, 
 with running belts, and whirling dust, and huge hoppers 
 on the floor. " See these hoppers, that's where we 
 begin. Pour the nuts right in here, just like they come 
 out of the sacks ; they are full now, you see; and then 
 You'll have to go up on the third floor to see the next 
 thing. You're not afraid of dust ? " 
 
 Jenifer's short laugh was so clearly one of amuse- 
 ment that Mr. Cross ran up the steep stair. Cushions 
 of dust on the rails loosened and besprinkled them. 
 Their steps left firm print on the gray-powdered steps. 
 The air from floor to rafter was awhirl with dust under 
 the sloping roof, and the windows in the gables were 
 opened wide. 
 
 " You see those cylinders ? " One after another 
 the rolls of hollow steel glittered down the room, and 
 the mighty belts kept them whirling. " The nuts are 
 inside there, the nuts poured into the hoppers below;
 
 Jenifer 245 
 
 that threshes out the dirt, and fans them clean, and 
 sends them out down the chutes to the sorting-room. 
 That's the greatest place in the building." Mr. Cross 
 turned as if to go there at once, but Jenifer walked 
 quickly towards the wide window, and stood looking out. 
 
 " Fine view of the country from here," said Mr. 
 Cross behind the young man's sturdy shoulder. 
 
 " Yes," answered Jenifer dreamily. " Many 
 changes ? " he asked after a second's silence. 
 
 "Well, we've taken to raising peanuts; that's about 
 all." 
 
 " Harrell still living here ? " 
 
 A quick measuring glance from Mr. Cross, and again 
 that stir of hope. " Jack ? Yes." 
 
 " And And the little teacher ? " Jenifer stam- 
 mered over the title; but pupil and patron and friend 
 alike had used it. No other seemed natural. 
 
 " Yes," slowly. 
 
 " They're married, I suppose." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why ? " sharply. 
 
 " Haven't got money enough. Takes money to get 
 married as well as for anything else." 
 
 " I thought you said the farmers were doing well," 
 Jenifer demanded. 
 
 " So they are, some of them ; Jack, too, fairly. But 
 he's got a load to carry. Two cantankerous women, 
 and Bess " 
 
 " There's nothing the matter with her ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " She's still teaching ? "
 
 246 Jenifer 
 
 " Gave it up long ago. Has to stay at home with her 
 mother, and a precious hard time she has of it, too." 
 Mr. Cross knew. He had helped all he dared and the 
 store ledger showed long unbalanced accounts. " Some 
 things seem a little too hard," he added sententiously, 
 thinking of Harrell with his handicap of querulous 
 women-folk, Bess with her sick mother; and poverty 
 for both, while the laden cars came day by day out 
 from that land that had been Harrell's and trailed 
 their way across the low fields. Had Jenifer crossed 
 the older man's path he would have learned his thoughts, 
 and plainly; but though lightning quick in business 
 affairs, Mr. Cross willingly awaited a slow Providence 
 in finer matters. He smiled shrewdly as Jenifer asked : 
 " Is Harrell at home ? " 
 
 " Yes. Never anywhere else, unless he is over to 
 see Bess. Come on ; want to see the sorting-room ? " 
 Mr. Cross asked, turning abruptly. 
 
 Jenifer followed, heeding neither step nor stair nor 
 room filled with machinery. At the end of it Mr. Cross 
 opened a door. The room beyond was crowded with 
 negro men and women. They stood in straight rows, 
 and beltings ran beneath their hands, and carried 
 with them a stream of peanuts. The black deft fingers 
 tossed here the dark nuts and there the light, and left 
 the best; so sorting them. 
 
 " That's all," said Mr. Cross shortly, " cleaning 
 them, sorting them, bagging them; that's all a peanut 
 factory is for. Now " 
 
 Jenifer's hand was on Mr. Cross's shoulder. He 
 leaned to make himself heard. " I am going away foi
 
 Jenifer 247 
 
 awhile. I shall be back by dark," and before Mr. 
 Cross could say a word, Jenifer was hurrying down 
 the dusty stairs. But the older man smiled as he turned 
 to watch the workers. 
 
 Down the sandy road, where the smell of the corn 
 and the breath of the great swamp were in the air, 
 Jenifer strode. His wrestling and agony had ceased. 
 He felt the stealing of peace into his heart, and though 
 the way was long, the weed-grown fence corners seemed 
 to slip past him, as his fancy pictured, in the sunlit 
 road, the trooping children, the shining pails, the slender 
 teacher, and Harrell waiting by the way. How had he 
 forgotten ? Why had he been so long in seeing ? How 
 had he lived in such content and satisfaction ? 
 
 Here were Harrell's fields. There was no plowman 
 in the cotton rows, no traveller in the lane nor lounger 
 in the far yard; but down between the pines came a 
 man with slow step and bent head, and a gun tucked 
 in the hollow of his arm; and the figure seemed 
 familiar. 
 
 Jenifer hurried. " Harrell ! " he shouted, so elated 
 himself that he did not think of what the other might 
 feel. "Harrell!" 
 
 Harrell jerked up his head, bent by no pleasant 
 dream. The little school-teacher's mother was worse. 
 She could eat nothing Bess could find for her; and 
 Harrell had shot a brace of young squirrels in the woods, 
 and carried them to her. He had been thinking, beneath 
 the pines, of Bessie's face, how thin the cheek was and 
 dark-circled her eyes. Her figure had drooped listlessly 
 against the gate when he looked back, her bonnet had
 
 248 Jenifer 
 
 slipped from her sunny hair, but there was no sauciness 
 about her red mouth nor daring in her eyes. Things 
 had cut, at last, too deep. 
 
 In the dusk of the trees Harrell could not at once 
 distinguish the man who had called him. Jenifer 
 clasped his arm impulsively before Harrell knew who it 
 was. Then a flame of red ran up his worn face. 
 " You ! " he cried. " You ! You scoundrel ! " 
 
 Jenifer might have berated himself and scorned 
 himself, but that name he had not deserved. The worst 
 that he had done was but a loose acceptance of legal 
 standards. As soon as he saw it that touch of super- 
 stition in the gray church beneath the oaks had been 
 forgotten like a dream, and had been part of one in his 
 hazy memory till both had faded as soon as he saw, 
 his attempt to act was instant. 
 
 " You lie," he cried hoarsely. 
 
 "I I " Fury choked Harrell. He clutched 
 his gun impotendy in his rage; then remembered that 
 he held it. The barrel was at Jenifer's breast. 
 
 Jenifer's blow was like a flash, but it did not fall 
 before Harrell's finger had found the trigger, and as 
 the sharp report rang out Harrell rolled by the roadside. 
 
 " Lawd 1 Gawd ! " screamed a negro running through 
 the woods. " Marse Har'll done shot ! " He sprang 
 over the fence, raced down the road, panting his cry, 
 till at the factory gate he had but breath to repeat it. 
 
 " Who done it ? " The crowd jostled him. " What's 
 that you say ? " " Where's Mr. Cross." " Dead ? " 
 " Where's the man ? " the clamor broke out. There 
 was a crowd ready to hand. The factory workers, the
 
 Jenifer 249 
 
 clerks, a belated farmer, a man they overtook, Mr. 
 Cross kept his place in front. 
 
 " If I had told him If I had kept him ! I knew 
 how Jack felt. I've seen it growing. He was fairly 
 mad over it. I knew he had no good blood for the boy, 
 and I let Jenifer go ! " He accused himself at every 
 step. 
 
 " I knew what he came for," the voice within him 
 went on. " I knew the moment I set eyes on his face. 
 I knew he was coming, too, some day. I've been a fool. 
 God, there he is ! Stand back ! Wait ! " His gesture 
 commanded. " I'm going to speak to him first. Wait ! 
 You hear what I say." And Mr. Cross strode forward. 
 
 "Jenifer!" 
 
 Jenifer had been walking slowly and easily. His 
 eyes opened wide at sight of the crowd and sound of 
 Mr. Cross's cry. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " he asked carelessly. 
 
 "Hold on there!" 
 
 " What else do you think I am going to do ? " Jeni- 
 fer's laugh was as light-hearted as a boy's. 
 
 " God, man, hush ! " Mr. Cross shuddered at the 
 sound. 
 
 " Hush ? For what ? What's the matter with you 
 anyway? All that crowd, and " 
 
 "Whar's Harrell?" 
 
 "Take him!" 
 
 The crowd surrounded them, a ring of white and 
 black. 
 
 " String him up ! " 
 
 "Wait for the sheriff!"
 
 250 Jenifer 
 
 " Hands off! Keep off, I say! " Mr. Cross slipped 
 from his hip pocket his own pistol, and held it before 
 him. He was close by Jenifer's side, and was pulling 
 at him with his free arm, backing Jenifer into the 
 shelter of a fence corner. " Get out your gun," he 
 whispered to Jenifer hoarsely. " It's your life, this 
 time. Tour life! Don't you see ? " 
 
 " Whar's Harrell ? Whar's Harrell ? " 
 
 Jenifer began to understand something of what that 
 yelping crowd meant; but he was as calm as the day 
 which neared its close. " Do you want to see ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 A hush fell on the crowd, a touch of solemnity. " Do 
 you want to see ? " he repeated, with a step forward. 
 
 " Stay where you are," Mr. Cross shouted, but 
 Jenifer leaped the ditch. Mr. Cross stood again by 
 his side. 
 
 " I'll show you," declared Jenifer, an odd smile 
 twitching at his lips, a smile which maddened the 
 crowd. 
 
 " No foolishness." Mr. Cross stood between Jenifer 
 and the men who closed up to him. " We'll see this 
 thing out, but mind you " He caught up with 
 Jenifer, flung his arm above his head in warning 
 the pistol glinting in his hand and again caught 
 Jenifer by the arm. 
 
 Jenifer's head was high, his step steady. He was 
 no more afraid than when he sauntered down the 
 empty road. He passed the gate to Harrell's place. 
 The pines darkened the way. The negroes huddled 
 together and the white men peered fearfully between
 
 Jenifer 251 
 
 the trees. What dread thing might they not find? 
 But they came out between fields where the light of 
 day still held, where fences were ill-kept and fields 
 unplowed; and the crowd went on, awed and hushed. 
 They neared her house. 
 
 Jenifer walked on without a turn of his head. He 
 did not glance at Mr. Cross lest he should betray him- 
 self; for first he had been furiously angered, and now 
 he was shaken with laughter that was the more intense 
 for the tragedy that dogged his heels. 
 
 He opened the gate, where the mulberries came down 
 like guards about the yard, and faced the crowd across 
 it with a gesture commanding silence. Then with a 
 wave of his hand he pointed across the yard. 
 
 On a narrow bench between two trees sat a man. 
 His back was towards the gate. A girl was by his 
 side, and his arm was about her waist. The man was 
 Harrell. 
 
 A slow breath heaved the breasts of the white men; 
 a low cry ran from negro to negro: then suddenly a 
 cheer echoed to the house, and the crowd poured across 
 the weed-grown level. But Jenifer stood at the gate. 
 
 " Jack ! " Mr. Cross had gasped. " God ! Jenifer, 
 why didn't you speak ? What did you do ? There was 
 something. What was it ? " 
 
 Jenifer had no time for answer. The crowd had 
 closed about the pair, but a way was suddenly made 
 between it. A slender figure came flying out across 
 the grass and flung herself upon Jenifer. " I am so 
 glad, so happy ! " Bess cried, her head upon Jenifer's 
 arm. She lifted it in a second, slipped her brown hands
 
 252 Jenifer 
 
 up to Jenifer's cheeks, pulled his head down to meet 
 her lips, and kissed him solemnly. 
 
 " There ! " she cried springing back and laughing 
 wilfully. " There ! " as if that kiss repaid everything. 
 " Don't say a word," she said with imperious, happy 
 face, turning to face Harrell and those who had caught 
 up with him, " not a word ! " 
 
 But the crowd had said too much not many moments 
 earlier: and there could be no feud between two men 
 who looked at one another as Harrell and Jenifer did.
 
 XXIV 
 
 " JENIFER, I want to know about this thing. 'Tain't 
 worth while for me to beat about the bush and hint 
 and wait to see if you are going to tell me. I want to 
 know." 
 
 Mr. Cross's business instincts demanded accurate 
 renderings. They rejected such generalities as an im- 
 pulsive arm on a young man's shoulder, the shout of a 
 crowd too easily led, or the blurted sentences of a joy- 
 drunk man. Besides, he had let Jenifer go too unfriended 
 before and he would make no such blunder again, but 
 first he wanted to know where Jenifer stood. 
 
 The voices of the last of the store crowd sounded 
 faint from the road. It was midnight, but the loungers 
 had just left. They had pretended that the whole matter 
 was a huge jest. Their friendliness to Jenifer had been 
 in shame of their suspicions ; their laughter and chaffing 
 of one another and the parts they had played was the 
 smoothing of an affair which showed an ugly side, but 
 would go down in their chronicles as a joke. 
 
 " Jack was some mad ? " questioned the older man 
 with a laugh. 
 
 The dark hid the sudden red of Jenifer's face. What 
 had happened and what had been said was between 
 Harrell and Jenifer alone. 
 
 253
 
 254 Jenifer 
 
 " Tried to shoot you ? " Mr. Cross insisted. 
 
 " You see I am safe." 
 
 " Some foundation for that darkey's yarn ; what was 
 it?" 
 
 " We we had a word or two," reluctantly. 
 
 " Scuffle ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I might have known it. I was a fool to let you 
 start off without warning you. Jack's been growing 
 bitter. Things getting harder, and his mind always on 
 that money you had, and he thinking he ought to have 
 it, or part of it." 
 
 " He could have had it all." 
 
 " Of course, if he had known, long ago." 
 
 " To-day." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " It was what I came for " 
 
 " You were a long time about it," dryly. 
 
 " If you thought so, if you thought he ought to have 
 had it at first why didn't you speak then ? " demanded 
 Jenifer in sudden heat. 
 
 " Because most likely I should have done what you 
 did, if I had had the chance." 
 
 " What changed you ? You are ready enough to 
 blame me," Jenifer persisted angrily. 
 
 " Pshaw ! you are not going to get mad now. It's 
 too late. Well," he added slowly, " I suppose it was 
 seeing them, seeing Jack and Bess. What's Jack going 
 to do?" 
 
 "Get married," tersely; "in a month." Jenifer 
 remembered how Bess had drooped against Harrell's
 
 Jenifer 255 
 
 shoulder, how the wild flower bloom had blossomed 
 on her cheek and the long lashes curled above her misty 
 eyes, when Harrell, without a question to her, had so 
 announced it. 
 
 " You don't say ? He's losing no time and he's 
 right. Going to fix up the place and live there, I sup- 
 pose ; and let his women-folks go off" to the city. They've 
 been crazy about it for I don't know how long. Hope 
 they'll be satisfied. Jack will be, I'll be bound." Mr. 
 Cross sat silent for a moment. A mocking-bird was 
 singing somewhere in the swamp, and they could hear 
 the gurgle of the water about the cypress-knees. 
 
 " So you fixed it up," the older man again insisted, 
 " and Bess had a hand in it." 
 
 " He left it to her to decide." 
 
 " Hm ! And when you started along back " 
 
 " I met you." 
 
 Mr. Cross laughed. " Sort of surprised, weren't 
 you?" 
 
 " I think it was the other way, rather," declared 
 Jenifer dryly. 
 
 " I should say so. Well, it will be a mighty long time 
 before we forget this night. Sleepy ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I am." Mr. Cross stood up, and stretched his arms 
 lazily above his head. " Come on to the house and go 
 to bed. Lots more time to say everything. You are 
 going to stay a long time ? " 
 
 " Till to-morrow," said Jenifer absently. 
 
 " To-morrow ! That's nonsense. You are not going 
 then."
 
 256 Jenifer 
 
 " I must." 
 
 " What's taking you ? " Mr. Cross pulled himself 
 up abruptly. He remembered with dismay chat Jenifer 
 had not spoken a word of himself beyond those in 
 connection with Harrell, had not told from what point 
 he had come, had said nothing of the place Mr. Cross 
 heard he had bought, or of anything the years had 
 brought into his life. Some blunt question was on his 
 lips, but it remained unspoken. A touch of sternness 
 in Jenifer and a hint of suffering forbade. The tall 
 and well-knit man with his sunburned face and steady 
 eyes was not the round, good-natured lad who had 
 stood behind the store's wide counter, but a new man 
 to be reckoned with. " You mustn't go so soon," said 
 Mr. Cross lamely. 
 
 " I must catch that morning train," Jenifer declared. 
 " Same hour ? " 
 
 " The same." Mr. Cross locked the door behind him, 
 and slipped the big key in his pocket; and the two 
 men walked slowly by the whitewashed palings to the 
 wide gate. It shut behind them, and the smell of the 
 cape-jessamine from the narrow flower garden blew 
 out beneath the trees. 
 
 " You will let us hear from you ? " asked Mr. Cross, 
 as he felt for the latch of the green-painted gate. " You 
 are not going off as you did before ? I won't have it. 
 Tisn't right to drop out of people's sight that way." 
 
 " Don't fear. You will not forget me," said Jenifer 
 with pretence of carelessness. " I'll not give you a 
 chance. But I'll have to get up early for that 
 train."
 
 Jenifer 257 
 
 " You haven't forgotten the hour ? " Mr. Cross 
 asked with a short laugh. 
 
 " No. I'll be ready; " and Jenifer's door closed 
 behind him. 
 
 Earlier that night, Jenifer would have given half of 
 the fortune left to him for silence and solitude. Now 
 the energy of action and the lassitude following accom- 
 plishment and the demand for easy friendliness left 
 him spent. He undressed slowly and flung himself 
 across the foot of the bed, gazing out at the blackness 
 beneath the oaks. 
 
 How merciless is the soul, and how it holds to account 
 the frail flesh that shelters it! How, in weariness 
 and discouragement, does it scourge and scorn and lash, 
 perhaps, to higher deeds! Work and companionship 
 and clatter and sleep may hold it at bay, but there will 
 come a time of silence, an hour of awakening in the 
 night, and it challenges of the flesh : " What hast thou 
 done ? Where are thy ideals ? Thy ambitions ? Where 
 have the wings of flight been draggled. Why hast thou 
 folded them ? Up ! Wilt thou walk and have me halt 
 by thee ? Shall I go crippled ? " 
 
 So the highest calls to the lowest and he who has 
 learned the harmony between their warfare has learned 
 to live. For Jenifer the way had been hard. His very 
 faculty of seeing but one thing at a time worsted him 
 and now that this thing had been accomplished what 
 lay beyond ? 
 
 He would gladly have laid down the possession of 
 the Old Place and all that stung him concerning it. 
 The sum he had set aside for Alice was all that Jenifer
 
 258 Jenifer 
 
 had intended to stipulate should go untouched. That 
 he felt he might rightfully claim; and had he stripped 
 himself, as he had intended, Alice would still have been 
 undisturbed. For himself he would fight out his fight, 
 in which poverty was the least obstacle there in the 
 Hollow. 
 
 What had his money brought him ? Dazzling as its 
 attainment had seemed, what did he care for it now ? 
 Was he afraid of hard living, of work ? He laughed to 
 himself at the thought, there in the fag-end of the night. 
 What had Wooten said ? " Son, are you afeard o' bein' 
 po* ? Here's a house an* Ian', an' both are yours. I 
 don't want 'em. One home is all I can live in. This 
 is yours. An' you are young an' strong; an' you don't 
 know what's in store for you. Maybe it's better than 
 you think. Don't you give up." 
 
 Should he go back to the cabin ? Was there not 
 another call tugging at his heart ? 
 
 The dawn showed to his tired eyes a clear world. 
 The sky grew red above the swamp, the tops of cypress 
 and gum and poplar pricked against it. The smell of 
 the jessamine and of ripening scuppernongs and the 
 dank odor of the swamp was in his room. With the 
 whispering of the leaves and the rustling of the corn in 
 his ears, with the sight of the silent store and empty 
 gin, Jenifer felt as if some part of him had gone on living 
 amongst them; as if he left it behind when the train 
 pulled out across the wide white road and Mr. Cross, 
 his tanned face thoughtful, turned away; when the 
 cotton-rows sped past and the swamp was but a smudge 
 upon the blue. For a second Jenifer longed to live it
 
 Jenifer 259 
 
 out there, to try that life amongst the good-natured, 
 easily excited, warm-hearted folk who had hated and 
 praised him in an hour. 
 
 But the miles were behind him. The thought of what 
 he should do next pressed closer. As lowlands and 
 reedy creeks and flashing whitecaps sped from sight, 
 perplexity and doubt were nearer. Once, when the 
 train made long stop, a telephone receiver was in his 
 hands. After this desertion and silence he had but to 
 call up The Barracks across this distance, and with 
 but one moment's wait for the electric flash and sum- 
 mons, he would know how those he had left there fared. 
 
 But he was not yet ready. The receiver slipped from 
 his hand back upon its metal clasp : and far up on the 
 mountainside, cold in the late summer's night, Jenifer 
 swung himself from the coach, found Lightfoot, and 
 took up the way by which he had come. It was dawn 
 again when he rode up the trail. 
 
 Cobwebs were on the high grasses and between the 
 willow branches, and across his door a film from side 
 to side. Jenifer's smile, as he brushed it aside, was 
 bitter. The cabin wore so soon an air of desertion. It 
 seemed to complain that the breath of human had not 
 been drawn within it, for Wooten had but wandered 
 about it, Mary came only to the door; and the children 
 peeped shyly through its windows. 
 
 Jenifer started a fire in the small stove and the thick 
 smoke rolled up above the mud-daubed chimney. 
 
 Wooten saw it, and hurried down the mountain, 
 running and stumbling. " Lan'," he panted at the 
 cabin door, " Ian' o' Goshen, is that you ? I saw that
 
 260 Jenifer 
 
 smoke, an' I jus' put out. Son," his heavy hand was 
 on Jenifer's shoulder, " what did you go for ? " 
 
 Jenifer gazed back astounded. After that stern sen- 
 tence one thing only was possible. So straight had 
 been his purpose that Jenifer thought that the old man 
 must know. 
 
 But he had not; and Wooten was worn. The wild 
 excitement of his fiery preaching had spent his strength, 
 as always. The lines of his face were drawn, as Jenifer's 
 had been. But Jenifer showed now, beyond his per- 
 plexity, a certain high steadfastness the old man had 
 never seen. 
 
 Wooten's hand fell from Jenifer's shoulder to the 
 table by which he stood. He clutched it, and steadied 
 himself by it. Jenifer's shoulders were straight, his 
 head high, touching the sapling rafters; and in his 
 eyes was a quick and unexpected sparkle of amusement. 
 
 " Well ? " demanded the old man. 
 
 Jenifer's smile answered him. 
 
 " Was it that was it that you went to do ? God, 
 an* I was afeared ! "
 
 XXV 
 
 WOOTEN was anxious yet! Jenifer came and went 
 for a day or two, for a week. His old silences held him. 
 He made no excuses at Briar Park, and he kept clear 
 of the house. He found a new way to the trail; and 
 the yard, the apple-trees, the porch, and those who 
 might be found there were beyond his ken. 
 
 It was characteristic of Jenifer to leave doubt, or 
 the thing he hated, or that which brought him hourly 
 difficulty behind him. This the world might have and 
 that; and out of what was left he would carve content; 
 but he had come now where his scorn of perplexities 
 would not serve. They must be mastered. 
 
 The battle with his love Jenifer had put aside. That 
 was something held yet apart, the reckoning with which 
 was in the future; but beyond that he was filled with 
 doubts, sometimes with longings. 
 
 When the dawn was on the peaks, and Lightfoot 
 picked dainty way along the dewy trail, her rider saw, 
 instead of the way which dipped between heights of 
 green, the rosy light that stole between the hills and 
 swept the mists flying down the valleys. When he 
 climbed again, with Wooten, perhaps, trudging by his 
 side, he heard, instead of the old man's drawling talk 
 of the Hollow, Wheatham's broken monologues. The 
 261
 
 262 Jenifer 
 
 Old Place drew him, and beyond it loomed another 
 question he had not touched, Alice. 
 
 Alice herself had at first been distinctly and exuber- 
 antly glad of her freedom. Leisure, money, the sounds 
 and sights of the street, and the careless attentions of 
 the men she knew sufficed. Jenifer had gauged her 
 well. Grame was forgotten; Jenifer was feared the 
 more, because he made no sign. 
 
 When the gilt began to wear from her life she was 
 scarcely aware of its dulling. Men who were at first 
 friendly grew tired of anomalous attentions to one who 
 held no charm to attract them long. The younger 
 sister, now grown, was resentful of one who had leisure, 
 who was better gowned, and who claimed a share in 
 visitors and pleasures the younger thought meant for 
 herself alone. The mother, used to sending her children 
 forth and having the long day for herself, found it irk- 
 some to have another in the house who fretted through 
 the hours and was never quite at ease. And Alice's 
 money, which had seemed at first so big a sum, grew 
 small when she found the interest of it was but an 
 income for moderate living. 
 
 The walls of her mother's house were narrow, the 
 rooms dingy, the windows were slits upon the street; 
 and Alice had known the hills. She had hated them; 
 but she remembered. 
 
 She had not forgotten that the house which crowned 
 them was hers, what was left of it; the house, the 
 quarters, and " what they held." She was ready to 
 flare it at her mother when necessary. 
 
 A trifle precipitated a quarrel. Alice came sparkling
 
 Jenifer 263 
 
 down the narrow stair when she knew a caller was in 
 the small parlor. Her mother intercepted her. " Alice ! " 
 she called. 
 
 The daughter swept into the room, and waited im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " That man down stairs came to see Eugenia." 
 The mother looked Alice squarely in the eyes. 
 
 " What if he did ?" 
 
 " You stay here, and give her a chance. You are 
 forever in the way and " 
 
 "I!" Alice's fair face was as red as the knot of 
 ribbon she had fastened in her hair. "I ! " 
 
 " Yes, you. You seem to think that every man who 
 shows his face here wants to see you? You've had 
 your day," brutally. 
 
 " It's a a " She would have flung out the 
 vulgar word, but anger choked her. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked Eugenia coldly. They 
 had not heard the front door close, nor the sister coming 
 up the stair. 
 
 " Where's George ? " the mother demanded quickly. 
 
 " Gone." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " He only came to see if I could go to the theatre 
 to-morrow night. What are you all dressed up for, 
 Alice ? " 
 
 " She was coming down to see him." The mother's 
 anger flamed up. " I told her to leave you alone." 
 
 " I wish to goodness she would." 
 
 " You do ? You do ? I'll leave you alone for 
 good forever. I've got a home. I'm going to it."
 
 264 Jenifer 
 
 " I wish you would ! " The mother's tone was more 
 devout than the sister's had been. 
 
 " And I'll never set foot here again, never." 
 
 " Won't anybody cry," vowed Eugenia. 
 
 " You'll never have a chance to speak to me so again, 
 I tell you. You " 
 
 Alice raced up to her dingy room, tore off her clothes, 
 tumbled her gaudy dresses from drawer and press, 
 and before she had drawn breath from her anger, or 
 knew what she did, she sat furious and straight on the 
 cushioned seat of a car which sped westward. 
 
 She had telegraphed for a carriage to meet her; and 
 the only thing she knew of the Old Place was that 
 Jenifer was not there. 
 
 Ben met her. His first eager question was for " Marse 
 Jen'fah ; " but Alice shook her head, and did not 
 open her lips to mention his name; and the negro, 
 after the first babbling of excitement, kept a pursed-up 
 mouth. But for her " Marse Jen'fah " would be where 
 Ben longed to see him; and all the way the negro's 
 back was straight, his gaze on the horses and the road. 
 He scarcely turned his head at Alice's sharp exclamation 
 when they sped around the curve, beneath the trees, 
 and in at the gate. 
 
 The lilacs were dusty, the locusts filled with pods, 
 the grass purpling, a late rose abloom, and the house 
 was as it looked the day she had first seen it, roofed, 
 its chimneys tall and square, the windows opened, the 
 doors swinging wide. And Wheatham, slender, thin, 
 and worn the months of waiting had been hard 
 stood on the stile.
 
 Jenifer 265 
 
 Alice carried it off bravely. She had come home for 
 a while. The wagons must be sent for her trunks. 
 Was everything moving aright. Were there enough 
 servants for the house ? Must any orders be given ? 
 
 She pretended to feel no surprise at the rebuilt house 
 or refurnished rooms, she had expected to shelter 
 herself in one of the quarters, and she asked no 
 questions, nor did Wheatham deign to make ex- 
 planations. 
 
 Instead of blackened roof and shattered windows 
 and ruined house the sunlight fell on the brick floor of 
 the porch, the wind blew through the hall, the floors 
 gleamed as she passed, the red mahogany shone darkly 
 against the wall, and the polished stair creaked beneath 
 her tread. It stung her with horror. By night, with no 
 light outside but far white stars and that flaring crown 
 at which she would not look she saw Jenifer's stern 
 face and sombre eyes above the spiral stair, by night, 
 she could have shrieked for fear. 
 
 Wheatham had been only courteous. He had lived 
 for two things during those months which had left a 
 touch of gravity upon his dreamy humor; and these 
 were his work, now famous, and the rebuilding of the 
 house as he had first seen it standing amidst the snows, 
 strong and staunch, tradition and history behind it 
 and demanding of the future happiness and full life. 
 He would see no such vandal ruin as it had shown nor 
 allow any such waste of all that should be treasured. 
 He knew that Jenifer would return. He grew to look 
 for him any day; and he had pushed the work madly 
 to have it finished before that hour.
 
 266 Jenifer 
 
 Alice had come, but Wheatham left her to herself. 
 
 In the big and still and empty house the woman met 
 her past at every step. The hedges hinted of it; the 
 locusts whispered it; the winds bemoaned it. 
 
 After a sleepless night in which she had listened to 
 the loud breathing of a maid in the small room which 
 matched the bridal-chamber, dawn stole through the 
 mountains. Light stands for hope, for delight and 
 gladsomeness, and the woman watching it had never 
 so joyfully hailed it, nor known so deep a moment. 
 Some measuring of herself, some lifting of her soul 
 must have moved her: the stile and its memories that 
 morning were not hateful; nor was she afraid of the 
 place of graves. 
 
 Something in the air intensified her mood, a languor 
 of heat and pulselessness of currents. Thunder-heads 
 rolled in the zenith, and the sun was scorching. Alice, 
 coming slowly in from the porch, looked back at the shin- 
 ing clouds, at the dark roll of one that hung straight 
 overhead, at the tall gray poles, and the dazzling line 
 which spun from the old place out to all the surging 
 world. For whom cared she there ? For whom had 
 she a word ? 
 
 The bell rang in the hall as she pondered and she 
 moved languidly to answer it. 
 
 " Hello ! " she called carelessly. 
 
 "Yes! Oh, God! Yes. What?" It was Jenifer's 
 voice. He had come at last to the step toward which 
 every thought had been leading, and from a distant point 
 had called up " home." 
 
 Alice heard his voice, his exclamation; caught the
 
 Jenifer 267 
 
 sharp rebound of feeling in his voice. " It is I," she 
 cried, her voice stifled, her breath choked. " I ! I have 
 come home." She leaned panting against the wall, the 
 tube still at her ear, and over the wire awful silence. 
 But that cloud which sailed the zenith had blackened. 
 Its folds were like midnight, its edges purpled; and 
 from it came suddenly one roll that shook the hills, the 
 house and quarters ; one flash along the wire. 
 
 Clanging, the receiver was pulled down with her. 
 The body settled along the wall. Wheatham, Ben, 
 the servants rushing into the hall saw a straight, white- 
 gowned figure prone on the polished floor. The hand 
 still grasped the tube; the face was calm; and on the 
 temple against which the rubber had been held was a 
 blackened mark. 
 
 The wild clamor of it had carried across the hills to 
 a far high peak. " God ! " cried Jenifer as he rushed 
 from the little station. " The train! Flag it! I must 
 catch it. Here it comes. " 
 
 " See to my horse," he shouted from the platform. 
 
 Enter the coach and sit down, he could not. It swayed 
 and rocked down the mountainside. At the point 
 nearest his home he swung himself off, found a horse 
 somewhere, raced on and on along the rough road. 
 Yet the day was late, and the dead long dead, when 
 he stood beside her.
 
 XXVI 
 
 LIFE at The Barracks had been long unheeded by 
 its neighbors. Wheatham had been anxious only for 
 his privacy, Jenifer, while master, content with his 
 solitude and Alice was scornful. It was current in the 
 county that the owners of the Old Place were again 
 abroad. The artist, who knew that Jenifer would 
 return with deeper insight and with calmer judgment 
 to lead to wiser deeds, kept his own counsels, and Ben 
 held a still tongue. 
 
 But the news of the tragedy flashed from house to 
 house. Carriages to which the lane had been long 
 unknown turned in. The preacher, the politician, 
 their neighbors, and Mrs. Moran herself followed the 
 solemn train along the garden path, and in through 
 the iron gates; nor had Mrs. Moran a bitter thought 
 because a stranger lay there by those she loved. 
 
 Her eyes were wet as the gate of the garden closed 
 at last behind them. The preacher had slipped from 
 his place amongst the slow-moving men and women, 
 who wound by the pillared porch and across the stile 
 to the carriages which waited beneath the locusts; and 
 Mrs. Moran caught him by the arm. 
 
 " You are not going yet ? " she whispered. 
 
 " Not yet."
 
 Jenifer 269 
 
 " I must see him." Mrs. Moran spoke forcibly, if 
 low. " Who has seen him ? Not a soul but those in 
 the house and you. Not a word of kindness to him. 
 No, I am going to stay. I will not let him feel as if no 
 one cared whether whether " She bit her lip, 
 and turned quickly away. " It may be I am afraid 
 Oh, perhaps I have made a mistake. It has been 
 wrong, the whole wretched thing what I what 
 all of us have done. We have held aloof, but now " 
 She turned towards the porch. 
 
 The preacher was by her side and his kindly gaze 
 was on her face. 
 
 " It is hard sometimes to know what is best to be 
 done," said Mrs. Moran brokenly. " But there has 
 been trouble here, hard trouble, and we might have 
 helped. Oh, don't say a word. I blame myself enough. 
 And he " with sudden flash of admiration "what 
 do you think he has been doing? Farming Briar 
 Park!" 
 
 " Briar Park ? " They had reached the porch. Mrs. 
 Moran's team waited in the lane; and the wheels and 
 tops of the last carriages glittered beyond the orchard. 
 
 " Ambler Arronton, you know. She used to be here 
 often when she was oh, a baby. You remember 
 her ? " Mrs. Moran spoke nervously and quickly. 
 " No, it was before you came to the county. They were 
 kin to the people here, close kin. He is in the library," 
 coming close and whispering earnestly. " Ask Mr. 
 Jenifer if he will not speak to me; I'll wait for him 
 here." 
 
 " Mr. Jenifer," Mrs. Moran turned at the sound of
 
 270 Jenifer 
 
 his step. She held out both hands impulsively. " We 
 are so distressed so grieved for for you your 
 sorrow. You will believe it. You must know " 
 She broke off suddenly. Beneath Jenifer's still face 
 lay such tense suffering. If she, a stranger, had blamed 
 herself for lack of neighborliness, for what had Jenifer 
 berated himself? 
 
 " You must know our sympathy," she assured him 
 breathlessly. " You will let us show it. You will stay 
 on now, here, at home ? " she asked abruptly, and then 
 as if she feared what the answer might be, " We shall 
 not again lose you ? " 
 
 There was a second of intense silence. The preacher 
 leaned against the door, smiling softly to himself, as 
 he remembered a sunny noon, the trees by the church 
 door, and his plea. Wheatham, at the library window, 
 where he had heard, stood still and grave. Ben, in the 
 hall, was wide-mouthed. 
 
 " You will stay ? " Mrs. Moran repeated. 
 
 " I think so," said Jenifer simply. He saw her warm 
 flush of friendliness, but she did not hear Wheatham's 
 long breath, nor see Ben's twisted, hidden face. 
 
 " I must go now," Mrs. Moran said quickly. " I 
 stayed because I couldn't leave without seeing you. 
 Some day we are coming again." 
 
 From the carriage she leaned to say : " Mr. Jenifer, 
 I used to love this old place more than any in the world, 
 excepting my own home. It hurt me to see it change 
 hands. I believe you love it too," she exclaimed im- 
 pulsively. " I know what you have done for it. I want 
 to see more done and see you do it."
 
 Jenifer 271 
 
 " Ah," said the preacher gently, when they were 
 far down the lane, " we can neglect no tie of neighbor- 
 liness without hurting ourselves." 
 
 Whereat the lady flashed a glance which silenced 
 him. In his unworldly way the preacher was yet 
 shrewd. He knew how swiftly Mrs. Moran's plastic 
 mind would shape her account of those she had left; 
 and how her skilful tongue would repeat the story 
 about which Jenifer held no reticence, and which, in 
 the excitement, was abroad; how each fault would be 
 condoned and every good extolled, all to The Barracks' 
 gain. 
 
 He left to her the doing of it. He himself saw con- 
 tinually the face of the man they had left standing by 
 the stile. More was written there than sorrow for a 
 woman whose life had never matched his own, more 
 than horror or remorse; something higher and stronger 
 to which the man must reverently be left. 
 
 Those of Jenifer's household saw it, also. The 
 negro, with that instinct with which his race is seldom 
 credited, but which many of them often possess, went 
 sadly about his work. He would have liked to keep 
 close to " Marse Jen'fah " every moment. Wheatham 
 divined, and cursed for the moment, the talent which 
 was of his fingers, and not of his tongue. Such talk 
 as he could think of was purely material. 
 
 " You see what I have done," he said, when days 
 had passed since that slow procession had wound down 
 the paths. " Your letter the one you left gave me 
 absolute charge. The income of the place was at my 
 disposal and it has doubled. It is a fortune in itself,
 
 272 Jenifer 
 
 with the impetus you have given it Jenifer, pos- 
 sessions are a responsibility. It has been said before, 
 perhaps; since the day when the stewards were called 
 to give account, and before that " this was one of 
 Wheatham's rare references to Biblical text, and he 
 made it now grimly. " As long as this place is in your 
 hands you owe it your best. I could not see it as you 
 left it," he went on rapidly and without a tone of ac- 
 cusation. " I knew some day you would come, and in 
 a week I had the men at work. In three months it 
 was finished, just as it was when Jenifer." Wheatham 
 broke off. He saw for a moment the summer's night, 
 the blossoming lilacs, the dusky shadows, and Jenifer's 
 blithe young face; and felt for a second the rapture of 
 that living whose reflex had warmed his own stiller 
 nature. 
 
 " I knew you would come back. I vowed you should 
 find it as it had been." 
 
 Jenifer's face was covered with his hand. He groped 
 with the other across the table where Wheatham's lay, 
 and grasped it. 
 
 " And I wish to say right now," in an attempt at 
 levity which the catch in his voice belied, " that I make 
 you no offer to vacate, as I did before. I am here for 
 keeps." 
 
 " Always, Tom; forever; as long as a foot of it is 
 mine, and that will be as long as I live," Jenifer added 
 with grave assurance. 
 
 " Please God ! " said the artist lightly, as he got up, 
 and crossed the room. " Though I'll have to be off 
 sometimes. There are some sketches of the sea I must
 
 Jenifer 273 
 
 make. I have forgotten how it looks. But these moun- 
 tains " He was standing by the window gazing 
 out. 
 
 Jenifer turned to look at him. " Forget them if 
 you can." His voice as he spoke was easier, and his 
 eyes less sombre. 
 
 " I can't. I admit it. The shackles are here." 
 Wheatham held out his crossed wrists with an air of 
 mock gravity. 
 
 " Here ! " Jenifer touched his breast lightly above 
 his heart. 
 
 " True." Wheatham's manner won to his old care- 
 less drollery. " I own it," he declared, as he came 
 back to his chair by the empty hearth. 
 
 Jenifer turned in his seat and thrust his hands into 
 his pockets. His long limbs were straight before him 
 and his face was sober and thoughtful. So, Wheatham 
 had often watched him. 
 
 Jenifer had been to the artist something like the 
 faces which formed beneath his fingers, first a blur, 
 then a line, a suggestion, and last a clearing and strength- 
 ening till breath of life was there. The artist had seen 
 the man grow, and now his face was past the whimsical 
 reading. 
 
 An east wind was beating up and threshing the trees 
 about the house. Wheatham shrugged his shoulders at 
 the sound. " Lord," he exclaimed, " how it howls 
 about this place ! " 
 
 " But the peaks," began Jenifer dreamily, " there 
 you are in the midst of it. Sometimes " Jenifer 
 pulled himself up. He had been about to tell Wheatham
 
 274 Jenifer 
 
 of The Voice, and he could not speak of it. Instead 
 "You must come up to the Hollow." 
 
 " You are not going back ? " 
 
 " For a while." 
 
 " For what ? " 
 
 " To finish the work I began there," replied Jenifer 
 quietly. 
 
 " That's foolishness; clear foolishness." 
 
 " No. Tom," he said with rapid emphasis, " I've 
 thought it out what I must do. The money I placed 
 for Alice, I shall transfer to her people and get back 
 the deeds to this place. They'll be glad enough. I 
 I have already communicated with them," he admitted 
 stammeringly. " You know none would come up when 
 they heard. I've had to write and telephone, you know, 
 and that is settled. But I must go back to The Park 
 for awhile. There are only women there, and no one 
 could carry the work ahead. They are dependent on 
 me." He spoke at long intervals, but clearly and suc- 
 cinctly. " And when I have finished there," he added 
 with a sudden smile, " I'm coming back for good; 
 then well, hard work, I suppose." 
 
 " Haven't been doing anything lately ? " 
 
 " Nothing to hurt." 
 
 " Hm ! That looks it," with meaning glance at the 
 hand Jenifer had drawn from his pocket. 
 
 Jenifer flushed as he thrust it back again. " I never 
 could be satisfied doing nothing." 
 
 " No ? " with teasing inflection. It was past the 
 hour when Wheatham was usually abed. He got 
 slowly to his feet.
 
 Jenifer 275 
 
 " Wait a minute, Wheatham. Sit down. You know 
 why why I went away. I have nothing to say about 
 that night, that evening, nothing. You know! I had 
 thought I was afraid It is too late now, and 
 that night when I went away I could have killed him; 
 her, too. It was the only thing I dared trust to, 
 distance and time to see things straight. I have had it. 
 
 " And she she is dead. There is no reckoning 
 with that question, as I was coming back to do, when 
 when I called YOU, I thought. God! I cannot think 
 of it. She she must have been sorry; she must 
 have! Wheatham, what brought her back that day, 
 that very day ? " Jenifer was on his feet, striding up 
 and down the room, talking brokenly. " Yes, I know 
 it is useless to think of it now," he rejoined to Wheatham's 
 protest, " or to judge. Useless ! " 
 
 The ring of his step and the howl of the wind echoed 
 through and about the house, while Wheatham stood 
 dumb and helpless. 
 
 "When I go back yes, I must; but I shall be 
 back and forth, getting hold of things here and seeing 
 to work there. It can easily be done." 
 
 " Put some one in your place," urged Wheatham. 
 
 " No, she " unconscious that the emphasis brought 
 a sudden illuminating flash in Wheatham's eyes, " she 
 will be married in the fall." Wheatham turned away. 
 "Then they can do as they please. I shall have finished." 
 
 Wheatham moved awkwardly. He would have given 
 anything to know what to say: and he could not think 
 of a word, except, " It's getting late." 
 
 " Going now ? " asked Jenifer absently.
 
 276 Jenifer 
 
 " Yes. Want me to stay in the house to-night ? " 
 Wheatham urged eagerly. 
 
 " No; no." 
 
 " Jenifer, I am going to stay right here," he declared 
 suddenly. " Lord, man, you look as if your eyes were 
 open for the night, and with this wind ! It's going to 
 rain by morning." 
 
 But Wheatham, through his watchful wakefulness of 
 that night, vowed that the air of tragedy lingered too 
 deep and that the next day's light should find him 
 avoiding its shadow. 
 
 Ben unconsciously aided him. 
 
 The morning was misty and the sting of rain was 
 in the fitful currents; by noon it poured upon the 
 porch, and ran along the roof, and hissed upon the 
 logs Ben lighted in the hearth. 
 
 The negro had been delighted with the chance to 
 linger near Jenifer. He pretended great solicitude for 
 the fire. 
 
 " Dis hyar fiah won't buhn nohow," he said, as he 
 stood on the hearth and watched the slow flames. " Ain't 
 been lighted hyar fer so long dat dat chimbly done 
 choked up wid damp. An' de house it sho is been 
 lookin' lonesome. Marse Jen'fah," with quick look out 
 of the tail of his eye at Jenifer sitting in the deep window, 
 " Marse Wheatham say you gwine stay home now, 
 leas' ways after awhile. I sho is glad. I been nigh 
 'pon cuttin' an' runnin' myself befo' dis. I'd 'a' gone," 
 he boasted Ben would ne^er have left without Jeni- 
 fer's word " hadn't been fer Lady Blue. You heard 
 'bout her?"
 
 Jenifer 277 
 
 Jenifer turned his head quickly, his interest at once 
 awakened. " No. What was it ? " 
 
 "Ain't you done heard? De-laws-a-mussy ! Why, 
 she took it; she did so; dat blue ribbon! Lawd, ain't 
 I done rode her at de show, same as you said ? Ain't 
 dat ribbon a-wavin' from her stall ? Come 'long, Marse 
 Jen'fah, out to de stables, you ain't done sot foot in 'em. 
 I wants you to see. Is you comin' ? " 
 
 " Sure." Jenifer sprang up, picked up a cap from 
 the table in the hall, and strode across the red 
 paths, the rain beating on him and on Ben's shining 
 face. 
 
 " Jes look at her," cried Ben, as Jenifer ran his 
 hand down the horse's satiny flank, his keen eye noting 
 every point. " Ain't she a beauty ? " 
 
 " She is that," declared Jenifer, with a sudden spark 
 of enthusiasm. 
 
 " An' dyar's mo' like her comin' on. But I wants 
 to tell you 'bout her, 'bout dat ribbon. I rid her myse'f," 
 grinning with delight, " 'deed I did. I had to do some 
 tall ol' trainin' to git down to de mark. I starve myself 
 twell I wa'n't nothin' but skin an' bones, but I'd rid 
 her in dem, jes in de bones, to 'a' seed dat day. De 
 carriages, an' de ladies in 'em Em ! an' de stan' 
 same like a swarm of butterflies. An' Lady Blue 
 a-prancin 'roun', an' me I wo' de blue, too. You 
 didn't say nothin 'bout de colors an' I thought dat 
 would do. Dat's de Barracks' colors, I done sot 'em; 
 blue wid a tetch o' red. 
 
 " An de men a-sayin' ' Whose hoss dat ? ' An I 
 was jes as up'ty. ' 'Tis Marse Jen'fah's hoss Lady
 
 278 Jenifer 
 
 Blue,' says I ; an' I gin her pedigree slick. I was ready 
 for 'em. 
 
 " An dey say 'Fus* entry from de Barracks,' an' look 
 sort o' sober lak." Ben saw Jenifer's wince. " 'Case 
 dey don't know what she gwine do, you see; didn't 
 know nothin' 'bout de hosses on dis place. I guess dey 
 knows now," unctuously. 
 
 " I jes bet ebry las' cent I had on her, on me an* 
 Lady Blue. Marse Wheatham put it up fer me; an' 
 we made a heap o' money dat day, we an' Marse Tom 
 did. Den las' fall we carried a string of colts off to 
 New York, an' sol' 'em ebry one; dat we did. Tell 
 you what, Marse Jen'fah, dis place it beats creation. 
 Don't you nebbah leab it no mo'. Dis fall I 'spec' 
 you'll go 'long wid de hosses, too," with sudden slyness. 
 " Yes, you will. Dyar's one Ise trainin' now dat beats 
 de bunch. Jump ! Marse Jen'fah, I tell you de truth, 
 dat colt could jump de moon, an' gib de ol' cow p'ints 
 on how to do it." 
 
 Ben was so pleased at his wit and at Jenifer's laugh, 
 which rang to the rafters, that he had not a word more 
 to say.
 
 XXVII 
 
 " SON, you certainly can make good coffee," Wooten 
 vowed. " Gimme another cup." A fire crackled in 
 the small stove in the lean-to. Th coffee-pot on the 
 hearth was close by Jenifer's elbow. " An* these bis- 
 cuits 1 Ain't nobody can cook like Mary." 
 
 " I'm goin' huntin' to-day," he said after a long 
 pause, " and if thar's any squirrels Well, barbecued 
 for me. What do you say ? " 
 
 " There's nobody to fix them." 
 
 " What's the matter ? " in sudden surprise. " Whar's 
 Mary ? " 
 
 " Sick." 
 
 ' You don't say. I saw her yestiddy." 
 
 " She has just been keeping up." 
 
 " Lan' ! " The old man leaned his elbow on the 
 table and looked out through the narrow window along 
 the path beneath the willows. Yellow leaves blew along 
 it, and drifted across the lush grass and about the door. 
 Copper and gold, oak and chestnut leaves sifted slowly 
 down the mountainside. A faint feather of smoke 
 curled above the chimney beyond the thicket. " You 
 don't say so," he repeated helplessly. 
 
 Jenifer shot a keen glance at the old man before he 
 spoke. " She has too much to do." 
 279
 
 280 Jenifer 
 
 " That's so." 
 
 "The girl has been sick all summer " 
 
 " I know." 
 
 " And now the boy has hurt his foot " 
 
 "Sam hurt! How?" 
 
 " Cutting wood, up on the mountain." 
 
 Jenifer, as he ate his meal, watched Wooten keenly 
 across the small table. 
 
 " Wonder if she would like me to do anything for her ? " 
 asked Wooten slowly. 
 
 " You might try." 
 
 Wooten ran his sinewy hand from his neck up through 
 his hair, standing it straight upon his head. " She done 
 run me away once." 
 
 " Well ? " Jenifer was smoothing the honey upon his 
 biscuit. He dared not look up. 
 
 " I tol' her she was shut o' me for good. I never 
 was goin' to come back." 
 
 " Who said anything about your going back to her ? 
 She wouldn't have you if you did." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " And you couldn't if she were willing." 
 
 " What's to hinder ? " sharply. 
 
 Jenifer did not answer. He knew he must soon leave 
 the Hollow, and he could not bear the thought of leaving 
 Wooten alone in that far cabin. He was aware of the 
 old man's soft heart, but there was something fiery 
 about the preacher, and it was not easy to hedge in 
 talking of his affairs. 
 
 " Those other women you think they stand in the 
 way?"
 
 Jenifer 281 
 
 Jenifer's lids were lowered; his lips still and firm. 
 
 " Shucks ! They don't count at all." 
 
 There was the slightest quiver about Jenifer's mouth, 
 and his face was again sober. 
 
 "They! I jus' took up with them; an' I did the 
 very bes' fer 'em I could, long as we 'greed together. 
 But Mary I 'member to-day the time we was married." 
 
 " You were married to her ? " The old man did not 
 see the quick gleam in Jenifer's eyes. He did not even 
 notice the question. 
 
 " We walked down the mountain an' clean across to 
 Hillsboro. An' the birds were singing all along the way 
 back, an' the flowers a-bloomin'. When she got can- 
 tankerous " 
 
 " When you began to behave as you did." 
 
 " What's that ? " 
 
 " You told me." Jenifer leaned his elbows on the 
 table and looked squarely across at the old man. " You 
 said she couldn't stand you." 
 
 " You needn't be flinging it up at me," Wooten 
 growled. 
 
 " You needn't hold it against her. You deserved it." 
 
 " What's that ? " Wooten sprang to his feet. 
 
 " It's the truth. You know it. You needn't blame 
 her for it," Jenifer answered calmly. 
 
 " So I don't; so I don't. I never did. But I was 
 'bleeged to have somebody. Mary knew it." 
 
 Jenifer passed his hand quickly across his face hiding 
 his smile. There was too much at stake to show amuse- 
 ment at the old man's speech; and Jenifer was careful. 
 " You might see if she wants anything," he began
 
 282 Jenifer 
 
 slowly. " I met her yesterday coming down the moun- 
 tain with her arms filled with wood. She was so weak 
 she could hardly carry it a step." Jenifer did not 
 tell that he had taken it from her, carried it to her 
 door, and had added enough to it to last her cabin 
 a week. 
 
 " I mought venture to the do'," admitted the old 
 man. Then with sudden change of topic : " Come 
 'long, son; it's gettin' late. You ain't so pyeart 'bout 
 yo' work as you used to be." 
 
 " Not much to do," declared Jenifer quickly. 
 
 "That's so; it's gettin' 'long late in the fall. An' 
 then " but he cut his foreboding short, and, with head 
 held high and a firm step he tramped down the Hollow 
 by Jenifer's side. 
 
 Jenifer, with his hand on Lightfoot's rippling mane, 
 was grave and silent. He had said all he dared and he 
 would not spoil with careless talk the thought he wished 
 to leave in the old man's mind. The early light was red 
 across the hills as the winding way disclosed them, 
 then shut them out; up to the clear sky ran copper and 
 gold and red; about the rocks were crimson vines; 
 Jerusalem apples were mellowing in the sered grasses; 
 and the drifting and sifting and blowing of leaves 
 mingled softly with the rushing of the stream. 
 
 The trail widened. The peaks swept back. " Son," 
 cried Wooten suddenly, "what am I going to do 
 Lord, what am I going to do here this winter, by 
 myself?" 
 
 " Better go home with me," urged Jenifer quickly 
 and warmly.
 
 Jenifer 283 
 
 " Go home with you, to that great place they tell me 
 you've got Not that that makes any difference," 
 seeing Jenifer's deep flush, " but how could I go, go 
 'way from here ? What would I do anywhar else ? " 
 The old man threw back his head, and his fiery gaze 
 was from purple peak to purple peak that rimmed the 
 Hollow. " Good Ian' ! mought as well try to pull a 
 squirrel out o' his wintah hoi' as me out o' this. No, 
 sah; here I was born, an' here I b'long. I'd be no 
 good 'tall nowhar else. But son, " as Jenifer stood 
 silent, his arm on Lightfoot's neck, " 'tis time you was 
 goin'. I don't mean for good, 'way from here; I know 
 that time's boun' to come. I done tol' you long ago. 
 But I will " 
 
 Jenifer could stand the old man's misery no longer. 
 He thought he knew the way it should be alleviated, 
 but the means were not in his hands, and he had said 
 all that he dared. He sprang on Lightfoot's back. 
 " Good-by," he called. 
 
 Jenifer had been back in the Hollow for a month. 
 He had taken up the threads of his work grimly and 
 he had added to his memories of Briar Park one he 
 would gladly have forgotten : 
 
 It was the day after his return. Jenifer was at work 
 in the stable yard, watching the big wagon being loaded 
 with sacks of wheat. The sun blazed on the yard. 
 Thin clouds trailed across the peaks. The barn shut 
 out the sight of hill and road; and Lightfoot's stall 
 was empty. Ambler had ridden her out to the store. 
 
 Suddenly, as the wagon pulled out the gate, he heard 
 the race of Lightfoot's run in the lane; and Ambler
 
 284 Jenifer 
 
 sprang from the saddle at the gate, and walked straight 
 across to him. Her head was high, her red mouth firm, 
 and her eyes bright with anger. 
 
 " Mr. Jenifer," Jenifer started at the name, " I would 
 like to see you a moment when you have time." 
 
 " I have nothing to do now," answered Jenifer calmly. 
 
 Ambler gave one impatient glance about the yard: 
 Joshua was at work there, and the old negro's curiosity 
 was unbounded. " Perhaps it would be better " she 
 began. 
 
 " I will go up to the house with you." 
 
 Jenifer opened the big gate gravely, and kept pace 
 with her hasty steps. His quick look showed him 
 Ambler's flushed cheek and sparkling eyes. The wind 
 had tossed the loose tendrils of her hair about her cap. 
 Her dark skirt, gathered carelessly high on one side 
 and flung across her arm, trailed the red dust on the 
 other side. Her nervous fingers bent the switch she 
 carried till it snapped, and she flung it angrily away. 
 
 " Perhaps we had best go this way," she said haughtily, 
 striking into the path that bordered the wing and led to 
 the side of the old garden. " It is cool here." Ambler 
 knew that Miss Molly was sound asleep and the place 
 secluded. 
 
 She looked up steadily. " I wish to tell you, Mr. 
 Jenifer, that I am ready to release you from your 
 contract." 
 
 The use of his name had told Jenifer that she knew 
 and her tone told what she thought. " It takes two to 
 make a contract, Miss Ambler," he said coldly. 
 
 "You mean "
 
 Jenifer 285 
 
 " It must be broken by consent of both." 
 
 " Well, I am ready." 
 
 " I am not." 
 
 " I don't see why Oh, why didn't you tell us ? 
 To come back from all that awful awful sorrow, and 
 to say not a word," she clasped her hands impulsively. 
 " You know our sympathy," she cried brokenly, " mine 
 and Aunt Molly's when she when she hears ? ' ' 
 
 In her excitement Ambler scarcely heard Jenifer's 
 stifled words. " There is no reason why you should 
 have come back at all. We could have managed. It 
 was dreadful to think you had to do it. And and 
 we thank you for all you have done this year. But 
 there is no reason for your staying longer." 
 
 " I shall be gone soon enough." 
 
 " Your contract holds for three months longer. I 
 shall not keep you to it for a day. We do not want the 
 owner of The Barracks to farm our little place." 
 
 " Have I done it so badly ? " asked Jenifer gently. 
 
 " You know what you have done. You know how 
 you found it, and how it is now. And," with sudden 
 heat, " you know why you did it. But it was not fair 
 to leave us to think " Ambler turned away. It 
 hurt, that imposition, and blinded her. When she 
 thought of that, she was furious, but when she thought 
 of Jenifer, as the letter she had that morning received 
 spoke of him, she was heart-broken with sympathy. 
 
 It had been in Briar Park's mail, a strange hand, 
 addressed to her; and it had said : " My dear, of course 
 I know you and you know me, and if you have 
 forgotten Miss Molly can enlighten you, though I
 
 286 Jenifer 
 
 have not seen you since you were a little thing playing 
 about The Barracks. You knew it was sold. Maybe 
 you heard who bought it. But, child, the man who owns 
 it disappeared more than a year ago, I'll tell you why 
 further on, and where do you think he has been ? 
 right there at Briar Park." 
 
 It could not have been put in a way to hurt Ambler 
 worse. The road had blackened before her when she 
 read and the reins fell on Lightfoot's neck. The girl 
 crumpled the sheets so fiercely that her shaking fingers 
 must smooth and resmooth them before she could finish 
 reading the letter. That it lauded Jenifer, praised 
 every deed, awoke for him every sympathy made it but 
 harder. The letter ended with the privilege, generations 
 old, of claiming the family's friendship and was signed 
 " Anna Moran." 
 
 No speed of Lightfoot's had been swift enough to 
 carry Ambler home. 
 
 " I know the place The Barracks " she began 
 again and brokenly. The look of Ambler's face with 
 its uncertainty, its sorrow, and vexation was so childish 
 Jenifer's lips were firm and his hands clenched in the 
 loose pockets of his coat. 
 
 " Our other tenant was not so particular," she avowed, 
 clutching at another line of thought. 
 
 " A reason why I should hold the faster to my bond." 
 Jenifer smiled faintly. 
 
 "There is no bond, Mr. Jenifer." Ambler spoke 
 soberly and with more self-control. " I annul it. You 
 see "with the manner of one ready to argue out a 
 matter, " I have followed closely what you have done.
 
 Jenifer 287 
 
 Much of it was what I would have liked to try myself. 
 I know how to go ahead and I always wanted to control 
 the farm," she added wilfully. 
 
 " You couldn't do it," declared Jenifer sententiously. 
 
 " I could," with a determined tilt of her dimpled chin. 
 
 Jenifer smiled at the gesture of defiance. 
 
 " I am going to try anyhow," a smile hovered about 
 the red mouth, " until until " 
 
 " Until when ? " hoarsely. 
 
 Ambler stood rigid. Her eyes were tense. She moved 
 as if to speak, then restrained her words. " Perhaps it 
 might be best to look out for some one for next year," 
 she at last added. 
 
 " It might," said Jenifer bitterly. " There will be 
 no one in the house, I suppose." 
 
 " The land will be here." The sudden red swept 
 Ambler's face as she ran up the steps.
 
 XXVIII 
 
 JENIFER was not aware that, as the days wore on, 
 Aunt Molly transferred him to the pedestal from which 
 Ambler had tumbled. She must have a hero or heroine 
 upon it, for her incense of romance; and Ambler had 
 bitterly disappointed her. 
 
 Aunt Molly remembered the night the girl's unrest 
 began, the night when Jenifer had questioned Ambler 
 under the laden apple-boughs. She knew the day not 
 long after when the young man on whom she and Joshua 
 were building rode angrily away. She could trace the 
 quarrel, but find no cause; nor could she say a word to 
 Ambler. The summer had opened the way to a life 
 Aunt Molly had sighed for; and found distinctly trying. 
 There was company in the house, there were visits 
 abroad, house parties and fox-hunts, and Ambler 
 feverishly pursuing all. Aunt Molly, in her wake, 
 would at any hour have given up the round for Briar 
 Park and the shadowed porch and the low rocker and 
 the well-worn book. But with those she had sighed 
 for this; and her own hand had opened the way which 
 Ambler trod too gaily. 
 
 Joshua, left at home, grew glum. He had closed the 
 gate after that furious young man who rode down the 
 road with never a backward glance. He had seen 
 " Miss Amblah " cross the yard with chin in air; and
 
 Jenifer 289 
 
 he could have foretold what would follow, all but 
 Ambler's sudden popularity, and her pursuit of it. 
 
 He had been distracted by the girl before, but this 
 anxiety cut deeper; it was too keen to be borne alone. 
 
 " Miss Molly," he ventured, when he saw her one 
 day alone in the yard, strolling peacefully under the 
 trees, her dress ankle-high in front and trailing far 
 behind, " Miss Molly " in a tone of fear and misery, 
 " does you think it runs in famblies that that ol' 
 maids might ebbah git 'tagious lak ? " 
 
 " Old maids ! " Miss Molly repeated. " Old maids \ 
 What do I know of them ? There was never one in our 
 family," she vowed; and then turned hot from head to 
 foot, remembering her own spinster condition. 
 
 The tension grew greater at Briar Park, and Jenifer's 
 natural impatience waxed with it. He was beset by 
 his temptation to cut hard things short and leave them 
 behind. The days dragged, yet something beyond his 
 determination held him. 
 
 With every shortening day he expected to hear the 
 notice of Ambler's marriage; still there was no hint of 
 it. And every day Jenifer found Wooten somewhere 
 along the trail. The old man seemed to be counting the 
 days, and missing none of them. Jenifer had grown so 
 sure of him that when one late evening, the stars 
 above the peaks and the frost gathering on the withered 
 grass, he missed him all along the way and found his 
 own cabin empty and fireless, he climbed to the far hut 
 as soon as Lightfoot's bridle had been loosed. 
 
 The door of the hut was shut. Jenifer's eyes, close
 
 290 Jenifer 
 
 against the small window, saw only darkness. His 
 restless steps gained him no knowledge; but when he 
 again approached his own cabin a square of light blazed 
 out across the clearing. The old man was waiting by 
 the hearth. 
 
 " Lan', I was wonderin' whar you were," Wooten 
 began sheepishly. " I been so busy all day 'twan't no 
 time lef to come down to meet you. Been fixin' things," 
 quickly, " an' movin' a few." The old man laughed 
 awkwardly; but Jenifer would not help him out. He 
 stood on the rough hearth, towering far above the 
 mantel-shelf, his eyes dark with delight. 
 
 Wooten wriggled in the hickory chair. " Well," he 
 declared, grinning broadly, " Mary, she done took me 
 back." 
 
 "Yes," after he'd laughed and talked and boasted, 
 and taken out his pipe and sent a whiff of smoke up to 
 the rafters, " I done tol' her I'd never have lef her 
 myself. She sont me away. An' it did me good. Leas'- 
 ways, I s'pose so. I ain't never tetched a drop since, 
 none to hurt, you know. I ain't countin' a little now an' 
 then. An' I have lifted my voice against it on the 
 mountain an' showed to others the error of their ways" 
 a sudden touch of his preacher exaltation and a tone of 
 its high singsong in his voice " an' I've kep' myself 
 straight. I ain't been so tarnation lazy as I was. I 
 worked for for 'em both, long as I had 'em; an' no 
 man could do mo'. But it certainly does feel good to be 
 home again, down thar." He stretched his feet out 
 contentedly. " That Sam ! he's jus' as sassy ! I always 
 did have a likin' for him."
 
 Jenifer 291 
 
 But with all the old man's ramblings he never told 
 how he and Mary made up, what he had said or she 
 replied, or on what basis he had concluded that she 
 still belonged to him and had persuaded her to that 
 faith. That was of the mountain, where they had that 
 morning met, she with her arms piled high with rotted 
 branches, he with his gun in the hollow of his 
 arm. 
 
 When Mary had looked at him with her brown eyes, 
 "Jus' like a deer, when it's a-peepin' through the leaves," 
 and her soft, wrinkled cheek had paled, Wooten had 
 spoken and Mary listened. The old man had taken up 
 his abode in the cabin which he had first built. 
 
 " She'll never get shet o' me no mo'," he vowed, and 
 kept his word. " Ain't nothin' like your own home," 
 he added, " an' somebody you wants in it, somebody 
 you wants bad." Wooten threw back his head to give 
 Jenifer a searching look, but the young man had so 
 utterly forgotten himself and listened to the rhapsody 
 with such delight, that the hint was lost. 
 
 Jenifer had not been able to bear the thought that the 
 old man should be left, as Jenifer feared he might be, 
 to his childish loneliness. Now he would not be alone, 
 and Jenifer felt his ties to the Hollow loosen. 
 
 His work at Briar Park was less binding " the res' 
 time o' the year " and he was oftener far across the 
 hills at The Barracks. His masterful hands regrasped 
 every detail of that life. He was in touch again with 
 every neglected point of business, and he forged to a 
 place amongst his fellows he had never thought of nor 
 expected.
 
 292 Jenifer 
 
 What the neighbors had themselves seen of Jenifer, 
 what they had heard, and this last capstone, the com- 
 pletion of what he had undertaken at Briar Park, touched 
 the fancy of a romance loving people. The preacher 
 watched the wave of sympathy with warm heart: the 
 politician turned it to his own account. 
 
 It so happened that a certain office in the district 
 was vacant. Two men, both of the dominant party, 
 sought it. The politician wanted neither. His word, 
 also, would decide it; and he wished for no such enemy 
 as the rejected man would make. He was thinking of 
 it, desperate of the solution, when he rode, one winter's 
 day, by the lane which wound from The Barracks. 
 Riding down it came Jenifer with Wooten by his side. 
 Jenifer had persuaded the old man off with him. 
 
 The politician drew rein, and the three rode abreast 
 down the hard red road. 
 
 " How are things up your way ? " the politician asked 
 of Wooten. " Going to turn out a pretty good vote 
 this election ? " 
 
 " Every las' man," answered Wooten carelessly. 
 The politician was silent as they rode down the hill 
 and up. " Who are you going to vote for ? " he asked 
 abruptly when they turned the top of the next. 
 
 Wooten's laugh was shrewd, and the politician knew 
 what it meant. He must first show his own hand, and 
 it suited him neither to show two aces of the same suit 
 nor an empty palm. "Hm!" was all he said. The 
 clear stinging air and hard road and beat of the 
 horse's hoofs were enough without speech, which came 
 at long intervals.
 
 Jenifer 293 
 
 The politician gave up the puzzle. " Coming home 
 soon ? " he turned to ask Jenifer. 
 
 Lightfoot shied foolishly at some object in the road, 
 and Jenifer nodded an answer; but his lithe figure, his 
 voice as he stroked his horse's neck and soothed her, 
 his air of strength and alertness, caught the politician's 
 eye, as it had done before; and he glanced from 
 him to Wooten. The old man's gaze was ador- 
 ing. 
 
 " Gad ! " cried the politician to himself, though 
 he laughed aloud, " there's the man ! " With Wooten, 
 and behind him the mountain folk who were linked to 
 Jenifer by his service, with the county still afire with 
 his tale, to mass dramatically the vote on Jenifer would 
 be easy; and the politician knew that the man was 
 capable of the duty. 
 
 The thing was that day hatched. If the politician 
 ruled the hills, Wooten ruled the peaks; it was only 
 necessary to gain Jenifer's consent. 
 
 " The people of The Barracks, sir, are not used to 
 being idle in public affairs." Did not Jenifer know it ? 
 Had not the knowledge cut deep ? " They are accus- 
 tomed to being not only active, but leaders, sir, leaders ! " 
 The politician pulled himself up. He lauded his office 
 too highly. " This is a small opportunity, but it is a 
 beginning, and " his voice kindling " we shall 
 expect great things of you." 
 
 The politician knew and Jenifer no less that the 
 great things Jenifer might do would be material and 
 not visionary; that the future opened to him was of 
 broad and helpful citizenship and that his work would be
 
 294 Jenifer 
 
 executive, and not exclamatory. It suited the politician 
 the better. 
 
 " Fact is we need such men as you, men with practical 
 knowledge and experience " 
 
 The flattery rolled unheeded. Jenifer was thinking 
 of that first sentence. He knew well the part the men of 
 The Barracks had played. He was coming back to the 
 Old Place with deeper insight, wider purpose, and more 
 humility, not with careless self-satisfaction. He already 
 felt the ripple of feeling that ran out to him. 
 He bent his head in thought as he rode while the 
 others eagerly beat out the matter, and planned it 
 joyously between them. Jenifer's thoughts drifted far 
 away. 
 
 Two days before he had met Ambler on a path of the 
 farm. She had come to passing him with few words; 
 but this time she stopped. 
 
 " Mr. Jenifer," she had said, " I have engaged a 
 man for next year. He is coming over to see you soon. 
 I thought, perhaps, you would be willing to talk with 
 him of what had best be done." 
 
 " I shall be glad to." 
 
 Ambler had thanked him and passed on. 
 
 " Miss Ambler," Jenifer overtook her, " the fall is 
 nearly gone. " 
 
 " Yes," not understanding him. " I know. That 
 is why I want the man to see you. You will soon be 
 going." 
 
 " In about a week." 
 
 " So soon ! " There was a frown between Ambler's 
 dark brows.
 
 Jenifer 295 
 
 " I had thought I had feared I heard You 
 will not be married before Christmas ? " he blurted. 
 
 " No." She spoke shortly and hurried her steps, 
 but Jenifer kept by her side. 
 
 " At all ? " he insisted, with a sudden fierce catching 
 at his breath. 
 
 " No ! " She turned into a narrow path, and with an 
 imperious gesture forbade him to follow her. 
 
 Jenifer's blood pounded in his veins as he remembered. 
 Along the long road, that night when they stopped, 
 along the higher ways next day, he saw her face, 
 neither sky that brushed the hills, nor peaks which 
 swept against it, nor high red levels, nor bare and hazy 
 woods, only Ambler's face, dimpled of chin, red of 
 mouth, broad of forehead; the dark eyes laughing, 
 shining, cold, proud, friendly; nothing beyond that, 
 now that he could, at last, remember. 
 
 They climbed higher. Peaks rose straight and sheer 
 before them and swept apart to show the way into their 
 heart; the road narrowed to a trail and the bare boughs 
 of apple-trees, the russet oaks, the time- stained house 
 were behind. Wooten saw Jenifer's long turned head 
 and searching gaze. 
 
 The old man was shrewd and not a word of the 
 young woman at Briar Park had he spoken till now: 
 " That sassy thing didn't get married this fall. Put it 
 off?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Sent that fellow 'long 'bout his business ? " 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 Wooten looked down at the hard red earth, and then
 
 296 Jenifer 
 
 again at Jenifer. Something in the young man's eyes, 
 some look of long waiting and hungry impatience 
 smote him. The old man drew rein. 
 
 " Son," said he, " 'tis nigh to Christmas " 
 
 " Two days." 
 
 " I've heard tell a curious thing 'bout Christmas 
 eve." Jenifer turned in his saddle with his hand on 
 the horse's back and his gaze, across Wooten's shoulder, 
 still on the house, its empty porch and closed door. 
 
 " They tell me," Wooten went on, " that if a man 
 goes out at Christmas eve, an' Stan's under the apple- 
 trees, apple-trees, mind you, an* looks straight up 
 to the sky, he sees it open, an' looks right into Paradise, 
 an' sees the angels." It was a legend of the Hollow. 
 Wooten did not know that it was a twisted tradition of 
 the Hessians. 
 
 " Son, 'tis nigh enough to the time not to count. 
 Thar's your trail to Paradise, an' thar " as Ambler 
 came out on the porch " thar's your angel." He 
 laughed softly as he struck his horse a sharp cut and 
 the beast leaped forward. But scarcely a yard ahead 
 he flung the horse upon his haunches. 
 
 A resonant thrill was in the air. Across the peaks 
 beat a mighty surge. It sang too high and strong for 
 sorrow. Hope and triumph were in its strain. Wooten 
 flung back his head to listen, and then, with a wild wave 
 of his hand above his head, gave his horse rein and 
 sprang up the trail. 
 
 Jenifer was out of his saddle. He strode under the 
 trees, hearing nothing, knowing only that he was near 
 Ambler, that he should speak, demand an answer of
 
 Jenifer 297 
 
 her, demand herself. He had been a sturdy friend. 
 He would be no gentle wooer. 
 
 " Ambler," she had crossed the stream and they met 
 under the trees. Nothing but the screen of the bare 
 apple-boughs was between them and the heavens. 
 
 " Listen ! " the girl cried with head thrown back, her 
 eyes wide open, and her face white and awed. " The 
 Voice ! " That had drawn her. To that she had been 
 listening. She had not noticed how Jenifer had spoken 
 her name. " You hear it ? " turning slowly to the 
 sound. 
 
 " I hear it." He caught both of her hands in his. 
 " It says ' The gates of heaven are open.' That is 
 the strain of its music." His arms were close about her. 
 " Beyond the apple-boughs, looking up " he looked 
 down at her shy, frightened, half-hidden face "one 
 sees Paradise. God ! I've waited for mine. I'll 
 wait no longer. Ambler, that other man, he is forgotten ? 
 Long ago ? " 
 
 " Long ago," she breathed. 
 
 " You love me ? " he demanded. 
 
 But the wonder of itl This mastery from the man 
 who had stood so long aside and gone on his quiet way, 
 while she 
 
 " You love me ? " Jenifer's voice was hoarse. 
 
 " Yes," faint as the voice that died amongst the 
 peaks, and as sweet. 
 
 " You are mine. I shall not leave you. You will go 
 with me when I go." 
 
 The night wind blew her hair across his eyes. The 
 new moon swung up beyond the mountains, but not so
 
 298 Jenifer 
 
 fair upon the purpled heavens as was her arm about 
 his neck. The breath of the wind stole past s but not so 
 faint as the breath of her red lips. The last crimson 
 flared across the west, but not so red as flamed her cheek 
 when his lips pressed hot against her own. The last 
 strain of The Voice swelled back again. It was the voice 
 of joy. 
 
 THE END.
 
 A Love Story of the University 
 
 A GIEL OF VIRGINIA 
 
 By LUCY MEACHAM THRUSTON 
 
 Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50 
 
 A delightful present-day romance, with its scenes located 
 in the Old Dominion State. " One could scarcely find a more 
 delightful heroine than the pretty daughter of a professor 
 of the University of Virginia, Frances Holloway, who is 
 the same lovable, high-spirited young woman one so often 
 meets in real life, but for some reason or other so seldom in 
 stories," says the St. Louis Globe-Democrat. " The best story 
 of college life from the townspeople's point of view that 
 has been written in a long time." 
 
 "Not too light nor yet too tragic with a wholesome 
 out-of-door flavor," says the Boston Journal, while the New 
 York Commercial Advertiser says "the author has given us 
 a picture of modern girlhood that goes straight to the heart 
 and stays there." 
 
 By the same Author 
 
 MISTRESS BRENT 
 
 A Story of Lord Baltimore's Colony in 1638 
 Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50 
 
 The story is an interesting study of the life of the col- 
 onists, and has seldom been excelled as a picture of early 
 Maryland's history. Baltimore News. 
 
 No more able or remarkable woman figures in early 
 colonial history. The author has splendid material at 
 hand and uses it with commendable accuracy. The Outlook, 
 New York. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, fc? CO., PUBLISHERS 
 BOSTON, MASS.
 
 Another Charming Southern Novel 
 
 WHEBE THE TIDE 
 COMES IN 
 
 By LUCY MEACHAM THRUSTON 
 
 Author of " Mistress Brent," "A Girl of Virginia/ 
 "Called to the Field," etc. 
 
 Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50 
 
 A novel with a fine Southern atmosphere. Book News, 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 Mrs. Thruston gave her readers a charming portrayal of 
 individual femininity of the Southern type in "A Girl of 
 Virginia," but that girl at her best was no possible match 
 for Page Nottoway, the captivating heroine of "Where the 
 Tide Comes In." Baltimore Herald. 
 
 A novel of dramatic force, with a good plot, character* 
 which are distinct and consistent throughout in the draw- 
 ing, and a setting which is original and effective. The 
 heroine, Page Nottoway, is a typical American girl. New 
 York Times. 
 
 The heroine, Page, is dainty, sweet, proud, and everything 
 else that goes with the scenery. The novel is well entitled 
 to a place among those tales of contemporary life which 
 possess value because of the author's actual knowledge. 
 Chicago Tribune. 
 
 Written in a style whose quality is far superior to that 
 of either "A Girl of Virginia" or "Mistress Brent." . . . 
 The local color is remarkably good. Baltimore Sun. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
 254 WASHINGTON STREET. BOSTON
 
 A Story of Virginia in the Civil War 
 
 CALLED TO THE FIELD 
 
 By LUCY M. THRUSTON 
 
 Author of " Jenifer," " A Girl of Virginia," etc. 12mo. 
 Cloth, $1.50 
 
 A story that reaches the heart. Washington Star. 
 
 The romance reads like the diary of a living soul, 
 breathing with all that is sweet and bitter in life. Phila- 
 delphia Telegraph. 
 
 Surrounding this story is the subtly alluring Southern 
 atmosphere, laden with romance and colored by the after- 
 glow of anti-bellum days. Baltimore News. 
 
 A tale of war from the woman's standpoint, done so 
 effectively that few, either men or women, could read it un- 
 touched. Bravery is the keynote. New York Times. 
 
 One of the half dozen novels of the Civil War of real 
 merit. The tale is just a bit of life. It has so much 
 of the ring of truth that we wonder how much is fiction. 
 It is a well told tale of love and high emprise, of patient 
 endurance of trials, of the valiant winning of the crown 
 of success. Baltimore Sun. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 254 WASHINGTON STBEET, BOSTON
 
 A Delightful New Blue Grass Country Character 
 
 AUNT 
 JANE OF KENTUCKY 
 
 By ELIZA CALVERT HALL 
 
 Illustrated by Beulah Strong. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50 
 
 This book, a picture of rural Kentucky life, will evoke 
 the deepest sympathy from every human heart with 
 which its characters come in contact. Aunt Jane is a 
 philosopher in homespun and in her " ricollections " we 
 see the beauty, the romance, and the pathos that lie in 
 humble lives. 
 
 The humor of the book is softened and refined by being 
 linked with pathos and romance, and the character draw- 
 ing is done with a firm hand. Nancy Huston Banks, 
 the well known author, says it is " a faithful portrayal of 
 provincial life in Kentucky, but something more than 
 that too ; for the universal note which marks the value of all 
 creative writing sounds on every page." 
 
 Every one is sure to love Aunt Jane and her neighbors, 
 her quilts and her flowers, her stories and her quaint, 
 tender philosophy. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON
 
 A 000 038 381 o