?**4a 
 

 
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 DAVID AND ABIGAIL 
 
 BY 
 THB AUTHOR OP " LUCILE," " THK LADY PAULINA," ETC., BTC. 
 
 " An honest tale speeds best, being plamly told." 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 st, being plaml 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 COPLEY SQUARE 
 
 1894
 
 Copyright, 1894, 
 
 by 
 ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Arena Press
 
 TO 
 
 "UNCLE REMUS" 
 
 IN PLEASING REMEMBRANCE OF THE OLD 
 PLANTATION DAYS. 
 
 Bergovania, January, 1894. 
 
 2138152
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 "VERY well, Jedge ; yer'ill lemme know 
 ter-morrer ? " 
 
 "Yes. To-morrow." 
 
 " That's right. Afore the bank shets, ye 
 know. Mout I call round thar, or had I best 
 ter come here ? " 
 
 "As you please." 
 
 " All right ; then ter be shore ov catching 
 ye, I'll come myself. * Hit's allers certinest 
 ter be on hand myself, as ye mout be bizzy. 
 So good-mornin', Jedge," and with a com- 
 placent smile of exasperating good-nature, 
 the unwelcome visitor bowed himself out. 
 
 He was an elderly man, his tall form 
 slightly bent by the weight and toil of busy 
 years. His eye was keen as a hawk's, but 
 with a kindly glance that would have
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 charmed a baby. The gray in the scattering 
 chin- whiskers had climbed up his cheeks and 
 over his ears into the thin locks of his hair, 
 and frosted a poll once black as a crow's. 
 His dress, though scrupulously elegant, was 
 made more for substantial comfort, than for 
 show, although a rather vulgar display of 
 diamond seal, studs and pin, showed a taste, 
 if not perverted, at least not in harmony 
 with the strong lines of character so legibly 
 marked on his face. 
 
 His interlocutor was his contemporary in 
 years, but his antithesis in all things else ; 
 a well-born, well-bred, proud and dignified 
 gentleman ; "one of the good old kind." 
 Toil, nor the weight of busy years, had left 
 no hard lines on his forehead, no silver 
 threads in his hair. A life of wealth, of 
 luxurious ease and elegant leisure, rounded 
 into a career of social and political prefer- 
 ment, had been his. Tt was only of late that 
 troubles had begun to come ; only as he had 
 turned the downward slope of life, hitherto 
 so sunny, that fortune had turned also. 
 Hand in hand they, prosperity and he, had 
 climbed together to the top, and now, hand 
 in hand, they seemed to be tottering together 
 down to the bottom. The fast-widening 
 streaks of gray that were mottling his head
 
 DA VID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 were of sudden springing ; one year ago not 
 a single silver thread could have been found. 
 
 " Oh, God ! my God ! what shall I do ! " he 
 groaned as the jealous door closed after his 
 unwelcome visitor, shutting him in, alone 
 with his humiliation and misery. 
 
 For a few moments he bowed his head in 
 despairing perplexity, and then with an 
 effort he roused up and reached for his office- 
 bell. "I must tell David ; it is a humiliat- 
 ing thing to do, but it is all that is left for 
 me to do. Poor boy ! his own trouble was 
 enough, already, without bothering him with 
 this. Ah, false, cruel girl ! I could curse you 
 for this," and with a vicious jerk, as if it 
 was the imaginary neck of a desperately 
 naughty girl he was pulling, he rang the 
 bell. 
 
 "Yes, sah," responded Jake, a smart 
 negro fellow. 
 
 " There is a speck of soot on your collar, 
 Jacob ; how dare you come in my presence 
 in such a plight ? Go out and cleanse your- 
 self," severely pointing to a little fleck of 
 soot that had 'Unluckily fixed itself upon the 
 immaculate whiteness of the negro's collar, 
 a whiteness made snowy in contrast with the 
 ebon neck it encircled. 
 
 "Yes, sah, hit jist lit. I didn't knowed
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 hit war dar," apologized Jake, backing out 
 with a succession of salams. In a minute 
 he returned, fleckless and spotless, in ebon 
 and ivories. 
 
 "Now, find your Master David, and send 
 him to me. You will likely find him in the 
 library. " 
 
 The obsequious negro hurried away, and 
 soon the young master in question stood 
 inquiringly before his father. 
 
 "Close the door, David, and sit down. I 
 am very sorry to interrupt you, but I must 
 tell you," said the Judge, without rising, as 
 he motioned his son to a seat. 
 
 " I hope it is nothing serious that troubles 
 you, father ? " 
 
 "Yes, it is very serious and troubles me 
 greatly, both on my own account and upon 
 yours, my son," soberly answered his father. 
 
 "But you must not let it trouble you on 
 my account. I have been thinking the mat- 
 ter over, and I am quite sure that it is best 
 as it is. A girl so fickle, not to say false, 
 cannot make a true wife. A woman who 
 jilts her lover will but I will not speak it of 
 her. Let her go ; only the blow was a hard 
 one, harder, perhaps, because so unexpected. " 
 
 " It would have been hard under any cir- 
 cumstances, and I am very sorry, for I did
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 love Gertrude as a daughter, but, my son, 
 this is not all 
 
 "It is all that can affect me. If there is 
 anything else you must let me help you to 
 meet it." 
 
 "Yes, there is something else; and you 
 must help me to bear it, at least with your 
 strength, and your courage. It will require 
 our united efforts to meet it." 
 
 "All that I have, father, is and shall be 
 yours ; only tell me what it is I am to do ? " 
 
 ' ' You know the embarrassment of my 
 finances ? " 
 
 " I knew that you were somewhat 
 strained, but did not think it serious." 
 
 "Ah! serious, hopeless. Ruin irretriev- 
 able and disgrace is before me." 
 
 " Oh, no ; surely it is not so bad as 
 that ? " 
 
 "Yes; there is no escape, no help. As 
 Gertrude's guardian I have used her money, 
 twenty-five thousand dollars ; and now that 
 she has married, I shall be called upon for a 
 settlement and I have no means with which 
 to replace it." 
 
 " But surely this is not so bad ? Twenty- 
 five thousand dollars ; we can raise that 
 amount. Why not mortgage the plantation ? 
 or else sell it ? "
 
 6 DAVITt AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 11 Alas ; it is already mortgaged for more 
 than it will bring ; negroes and all." 
 
 The young man staggered, but strong in 
 youthful courage and faith in his father he 
 quickly rallied. 
 
 " Then sell the Arcade. I know that you 
 intended it for me but let it go. It should 
 easily fetch thirty thousand." 
 
 " The Arcade is gone too. In fact, my son, 
 I should have told you all this long ago, but 
 I did not have the courage to face you. I 
 even tried to hide it from myself ; but every- 
 thing in the world that I have is mortgaged 
 for its full value. Even the homestead will 
 have to go. " 
 
 "And there is nothing to secure Gert 
 Mrs. Hardie, I mean ? " 
 
 ' ' Nothing ; absolutely nothing. My bonds- 
 men will have to suffer." 
 
 " That is sad." 
 
 " It is miserable. I would blow my brains 
 out if it would restore the money." 
 
 "No ; that would not mend matters. It 
 would be only a confession of guilt, where I 
 am sure no guilt lies. But does she know 
 this?" 
 
 "She; who?" 
 
 " Gertrude, Mrs. Hardie." 
 
 " No. I was so sure of your marriage that
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 I felt no concern about the matter. It was 
 her surprising perfidy and folly in running 
 away with this fellow that has precipitated 
 my ruin. If I only had time I could retrieve 
 my affairs. I am sure to win the Willough- 
 by case and that will more than suffice for 
 all that I owe." 
 
 "But can we not gain time? We can 
 stave off a settlement until after the fall 
 term." 
 
 " No that is impossible. Old Hardie has 
 just been here and I am to answer him to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "What! so soon ? They were only mar- 
 ried yesterday. And has she sent him 
 already ? Ah ! false, fair .woman ! I had 
 thought better of you than this," and in the 
 bitterness of his disappointment, the young 
 man bowed his face in his hands and groaned. 
 
 The father pitied the son's distress and 
 answered softly : 
 
 11 No ; he did not come from her. He never 
 even mentioned her name. It was on his 
 own account that he came." 
 
 "And what has he got to do with it?" 
 rousing up with a flush. 
 
 " It is to him I owe all this money. He 
 holds the mortgages upon all our property, 
 and he threatens to foreclose at once."
 
 8 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 11 To him ! to old Israel Hardie, the miser- 
 able miser ? " 
 
 "Yes, to him; I am absolutely in his 
 power. His word to-morrow can make me a 
 pauper, and my daughter a beggar." 
 
 " Then God pity us, for I had rather be in 
 the hands of Shylock, the itching-palmed 
 Jew of Venice, than to be in the power of 
 this wretched man. Why, the very associa- 
 tion is a reproach to our name. No gentle- 
 man can countenance him ; he is but little 
 better than a gambler, a robber, a man who 
 made his fortune by trading negroes." 
 
 " He is low enough, I grant you, and I as 
 keenly feel the humiliation of the disreputa- 
 ble association, but I can not, nor could I at 
 the time, help myself. He bought the secu- 
 rities himself from the bank and I could not 
 protest. In fact he virtually owns the bank 
 itself. He is immensely rich, and despite his 
 low breeding and dubious reputation he is 
 correspondingly powerful." 
 
 " Yes, a gilded pill, and society will have to 
 swallow him. It was this, I suppose, the 
 glitter of his wealth, that caused Gertrude to 
 forget her breeding and to run away with 
 his fop of a son." 
 
 " Perhaps it was ; although, to do the chap 
 justice, he is a good-looking young fellow ;
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 9 
 
 handsome and insinuating, and if it were not 
 for his low birth and plebeian associations, I 
 would say that Gertrude has made a very 
 good match. As good as such a deceitful 
 woman as she deserves." 
 
 " Faugh ! she has disgraced herself and 
 her family. I wonder that Ike does not hunt 
 him down and shoot him. But she is noth- 
 ing to me ; heigho ! But what is it the old 
 codger wants ? " 
 
 "His money first, of course." 
 
 " And to get it he will foreclose the mort- 
 gages 2 " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " How much do you owe him ? " 
 
 " One hundred and ten thousand, five hun- 
 dred and sixty dollars, or to be exact, as 
 Hardie who had made the calculation him- 
 self, sixty dollars and thirty-seven cents." 
 
 "But the property should bring more than 
 that." 
 
 " At any other time it would, but under 
 the present financial depression and at a 
 forced sale, it would not realize the half of 
 it." 
 
 " But will he not wait ? Is there no way 
 to gain a respite ? Have we no friends that 
 we can appeal to for help ? " 
 
 " I have exhausted the venire and find
 
 10 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 none. Every one is anxiously propping up 
 his own tottering fortune. The whole com- 
 mercial fabric is shaky and I doubt very 
 much if I could to-day secure an indorse- 
 ment for one thousand dollars. All this 
 Hardie knows, and he is swift to take advan- 
 tage of my defenseless position. It is one of 
 the saddest features about these financial 
 upheavals, that the oldest and proudest 
 houses are the ones to tumble, while the 
 dirty adobes are left unscathed. I should 
 not mind the loss of my property so much 
 were it not for the loss that will follow to 
 others ; my innocent bondsmen, and espe- 
 cially my old friend, Burwell Graves, who 
 would have trusted me with his all. And 
 Walter ; what can he think of Gussie's father 
 when he is told that he is a defaulter, and 
 that his own father must pay the forfeit ? 
 Ah ! poor Augusta ! it will be hard for 
 her." 
 
 " That is the saddest of all, the misappro- 
 priation of your ward's estate." 
 
 " Yes ; it was cruel. I shall never forgive 
 her for leaving you as she did. Had she 
 married you, as we all expected, all would 
 have been well 
 
 " Never mind me ; I am glad that it is 
 over between us ; let us come back to busi-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 11 
 
 ness. You say that Old Hardie refuses 
 further time ? " 
 
 " He gave me until to-morrow to decide." 
 
 "To decide what ?" 
 
 "Oh, I have not told you? Well, never 
 mind ; the thing is too absurd to talk about. 
 Preposterous, preposterous ! " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Oh, the old fool is demented, and I 
 should not offend your good-nature by re- 
 peating his proposition." 
 
 "But if it bears on this matter at all, I 
 think, sir, that I ought to be told." 
 
 "Very well. It would be annoying were 
 it not so utterly ridiculous, and you cannot 
 be angry ; but the proposition was about his 
 daughter 
 
 " His daughter ? I was not aware that he 
 had a daughter." 
 
 "Yes, a chit of a thing, just eighteen, 
 he says, whom the boarding schools have 
 crammed with the conceit that she is an 
 accomplished young lady. She is ill-favored 
 as she is low-born. I recollect seeing her 
 once during my canvass for the senate, 
 when I stopped at her father's plantation. 
 That was before they took it into their heads 
 to come to town and beat their way in 
 society. She was freckled-faced, snub-
 
 12 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 nosed, and had a foot like a bread-tray, and 
 waddled in her walk like a gosling ; just 
 such a daughter as you can imagine such a 
 father to have 
 
 " But what has his daughter to do with 
 our affairs ? " his son interrupted with a 
 slight disgust. 
 
 " Ah ! that is it. I knew you would 
 wonder, but the truth is, the old fool is 
 immensely vain of his daughter and has an 
 insane ambition to marry her into social 
 position ; he is jealous of his own ilk, and 
 guards her like a Cerberus to prevent 
 her from marrying one of the common herd : 
 'I want her to marry one uv the big- 
 bugs , ' he said. Do you understand ? " 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 " Very well : the wretched old scoundrel, 
 taking advantage of my destraint and 
 emboldened, doubtless, by the surprising 
 leap his son has made over the social fence, 
 came to me just now with a proposi- 
 tion " 
 
 ' ' To marry her to you ? " his son asked, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " P-i-s-h ; no. That would not have been 
 so monstrous, but he wanted you to marry 
 her." 
 
 "Surely, you are jesting?"
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 13 
 
 " No ; indeed. Just as coolly as he had 
 calculated the interest on my notes, he had 
 figured out the possibilities and advantages 
 of the marriage. 'You see,' he said, ' I'ze 
 bin a watching that boy ov yourn an' thay's a 
 power o' gum in 'im, and with Abby,' shade 
 of Lavena, her name is Abby ! ' an' with 
 Abby's money ter push 'im on, an' Abby's 
 grit ter scotch fer 'im ; thar's no knowin' 
 how high he mouten clime.' It was really 
 too comical ! the patronizing manner in 
 which he slapped me on the shoulder and 
 challenged me to dispute the magnificent 
 proposition." 
 
 " You should have called Jake to kick him 
 out of the room." 
 
 "If the thing hadn't been so irresistibly 
 ludicrous, I should have done so, but the 
 triumphant gravity of the old fool's look dis- 
 armed me completely, and I had to laugh. 
 Not to encourage him, however, in his Quix- 
 otic hobby, I told him that while you might 
 appreciate the lady's several thousand charms, 
 to say nothing of her grit, I was quite sure 
 that you were in no condition to marry ; 
 when he quickly interrupted me : ' Yes, but 
 I'll see to his condition ; I'll fix all that, I've 
 got a cool millyon in soak fer Abby, an' if 
 that don't put the man she gits on top, I'd
 
 14 . DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 jist like ter see the next one. An' 'sides 
 that ; ' he added, ' Abby's no slouch herself, 
 but on a tite pull she's ekill ter a whole team 
 an' a yaller dog under the waggin ; jest let's 
 hitch them two together, an' shore's yer born, 
 if the traces don't break the thing's bound 
 ter move. Why,' he added, in a confiden- 
 tial whisper, ' we'll both hev a little gran- 
 chile borned in the White House, jis' as cer- 
 tain as falling off a log.' ' 
 
 "Tush !" contemptuously "the man is 
 an idiot." 
 
 "Yes ; but there is a desperate earnest- 
 ness in his mouthings, David. It means ruin 
 tome, my son." 
 
 " But how are we to help it ? Surely you 
 cannot suggest the possibility of me humor- 
 ing the old rogue's madness, and marrying 
 this baggage ? " 
 
 "Oh, no. Nothing of the sort. Not with 
 diamonds to gild the harness would I consent 
 to see my son yoked with such cattle." 
 
 " And you told him so ? " 
 
 " Yes. I told him that while that was a 
 matter with which I could have nothing to 
 do, yet I was quite sure of your feelings on 
 the subject of marriage, and that nothing 
 could be more repugnant to your feelings, 
 at this time, than the idea of such a thing.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 15 
 
 He, however, insisted that I should speak to 
 you about it, and promised to suspend action 
 until he heard from you. He is to come to- 
 morrow for his answer. You had better be 
 present when he comes, and perhaps we can 
 overcome the absurdity of his fancy, and 
 prevail upon him to grant me a respite. 
 Somehow you have his good opinion and you 
 may possibly be able to convince him, not 
 only of the equity of my Willoughby claims, 
 but of the absolute certainty of a favorable 
 judgment." 
 
 ' ' Yes, I will see him, and I only wish that 
 I could as readily convince him of the cer- 
 tainty of a favorable issue of the Willough- 
 by claim, as I can of the utter impossibility 
 of this other thing he wishes. I should like, 
 however, for him to come early, as I have to 
 meet Lawson at Eed Oak, at one o'clock." 
 
 "Ah, yes. I had forgotten; poor boy, 
 it is too bad for me to lay the burden of my 
 distress upon you, when you need all your 
 strength and energy for the canvass." 
 
 " Oh, never mind me. The tension will 
 only nerve me to strike the harder. But, by 
 the way, I was in the library, when Jake 
 called me, looking up the debates on the 
 Kentucky resolutions ; can you give me the 
 data?"
 
 16 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Certainly," and in another moment the 
 carking, grinding cares of the domestic man 
 were thrown off as a profitless cumber, and 
 the two politicians lost themselves in the 
 more congenial world of politics, statecraft 
 and diplomacy. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ABIGAIL. 
 
 IT was an elegant room in an elegant 
 house. Whatever might be said as to the 
 plebeian origin, or of the plebeian habits, of 
 the parvenu owner, nothing could be urged 
 against the refined elegance and tasteful 
 appointments of his present surroundings. 
 The proudest aristocrat in all that aristo- 
 cratic city, would have been proud of the 
 appropriate splendor of that room. 
 
 It mattered not how vulgar the purse that 
 paid for it, the taste that selected and the 
 hand that arranged its furniture was the 
 taste of a connoisseur, and the hand of an 
 artist ; everything was luxurious, graceful, 
 pretty ; the only thing seemingly out of 
 place was the master himself. Awkward 
 and ungainly he moved about, unconscious
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 17 
 
 of the incongruity, but somehow vaguely 
 feeling a sense of misfitness. The luxurious 
 fauteuil on which his daughter so gracefully 
 reclined, would have been a hot gridiron to 
 him. 
 
 ' ' Hit may do f er you uns ; young f okes 
 as wer horned ter sich contraptions, but as 
 fer me I'd ruther hev an ole hickory stump, 
 er a popler log, ter set on than ter hev a 
 whole lot full uv sich jimcracks. The saft- 
 est setting that I ever sot, was on the hoss- 
 block ov a nite, when I got in from plowing ; 
 long time ago. Ah ! I members the time, 
 jist as well as zif hit was yisterdy ; I was a 
 boy, then, an' they was good ole days, I tell 
 ye. I wus jist a beginning ter fix up ter 
 court yer mammy then, Abby ; she wus 
 the sweetest gurrill that ever lived ; the 
 purtiest an' the sweetest. You minds me ov 
 her off en, Abby ; you are more, an' more like 
 her every day." 
 
 " Am I ? Then I am very glad ; my sweet 
 mamma. Do you know I can remember 
 her ? " 
 
 "Mebby so, only you wuz a monstus 
 leetle thing when she died ; you wuz jist 
 four years old." 
 
 " Yes, but still I am sure that I do re- 
 member her. I dream of her often and
 
 18 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 every time she appears the same. Her eyes 
 were brown, and so soft and gentle. Were 
 they not pretty eyes ? " 
 
 " Jist as purty az a fawn's, an', az ye say, 
 saft an' gentle. Ah ! they waz monstus 
 purty eyes ! an' she was a monstus purty 
 'oman, an' jist as good az she was purty. 
 She waz a powerful good 'oman, yer 
 mammy waz ; too good fer me ; too purty 
 an' good an' sweet fer me. I offen wonder- 
 ed how on yeath I ever got 'er." 
 
 "Oh, no ; I am sure that she loved you 
 and that you loved her very dearly." 
 
 " Loved her ? loved yer mammy, child ? 
 Wy yer don't know what yer talkin' 'bout. 
 I'd a gin every blessed nigger on the place, 
 an' would a died myself ter a saved her. 
 Ah ! talk 'bout trubble ; but no one knows 
 what trubble is, that 'hain't lost what I've 
 lost. Ah me ! But never mine ; hit won't 
 be long afore I'll go too. I somehow jist 
 natcherly feels hit in my bones ; and then 
 mebby we'll get tergether agin." 
 
 "Would you wish to leave me, father?" 
 
 "Well, no; that is, in course, I wouldn't 
 like ter take yer along with me, case hit 
 wouldn't be natcheral ; but then, yer know 
 that I can't allers expect ter stay here. An' 
 that, mind's me, hunny, ov somethin' I've bin
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 19 
 
 talkin, 'bout ter day. Come, shet yer book up 
 awhile, an' let's hev a little confab, 'bout it." 
 
 " Ah ! what is it ? " closing the book in her 
 lap and looking up in pretty wonder at the 
 sudden gravity of her father's tone. 
 
 1 ' Hit's about marryin ; but fust, lemme 
 tell you ; I seed Tom ter-day." 
 
 ' ' Oh, did you ? " and the wondering eyes 
 drooped. " How did he look ? " brightening 
 up. 
 
 ' ' Thes like a sheep-killin' hound. He 
 knowed he'd acted mean an' the girl done 
 it too." 
 
 "Did you see her ? What kind of a girl is 
 she ? " 
 
 " Yes, I seed her, an' she's a right sniptious 
 lookin' 'oman, only she's as proud as Lucifix, 
 an' turned up her nose at me az zif I waz a 
 wet dog. I lay she'll make Tom smell the 
 patchin' ; she's a regular tippy-bob an' Tom 
 looks like a fool aside her. My notion is 
 that Tom's niggled it. An' 'sides he fooled 
 her, Tom did 
 
 " Fooled her? Oh surely, not." 
 
 "Yes ; that's what he done, fer a fac'. 
 Her uncle, Colonel Garden, axed me all about 
 hit ter-day. Tom made 'em all believe as 
 how he waz my own shore-anuff son, an' 
 would fall heir to all my property."
 
 20 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " No, no ; he could not stoop to such a 
 deception ? " 
 
 " Yes, but he did though. Tom's a regu- 
 lar scamp an' I'me done with him. Why, 
 you thes orter a seed the look, when I told 
 the Colonel that he wan't scasely any kin at 
 all ter me. That he waz my daddy's cousin's 
 orfin chile that I had picked up outen the 
 ash-pile an' gin him a raisin', an' while I 
 mought give him a little patch down on 
 the crick, an' a nigger, or two, to start 
 on, I didn't spect ter divide my fortin 
 with nobody but you. The man looked 
 thes like he'd ad bin shot ; I could a 
 knocked him down with a puff ov wind. 
 An', honey, do yer know as somehow or 
 other I is glad that Tom is gone ? Out 
 ov your way, I means." 
 
 The young lady flushed, and her father, 
 putting his own construction upon the 
 blush, continued : 
 
 "Yes, I knows as you didn't mean any- 
 thing wrong about hit, but I sorter seed 
 as you an' him was a kinder pea-vining 
 to'ards one another. Thar, don't begin 
 ter flare up, but jist wait a minit tell I 
 'splains. I waz sorry ter see hit, fer 
 though I know'd that Tom warn't no 
 'count, an' I had higher notions fer you,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 21 
 
 yit, zif it had a corned ter a focus an' 
 you had a set your head on marryin' 'im, 
 I'd a thes shet my eyes on his nocount- 
 ness an' a let ye rip ; hush wait another 
 ininit, but now az hits all over an' the 
 'bominable fool haz gone an' drapt ye 
 fer this tother vixen, this lady disdain, 
 why, bust my buttons, zif I hain't dinged 
 glad ov it. Yes, Abby, I shorely iz." 
 
 The old gentleman paused a moment to 
 give her speech, but she sat silent and he 
 went on : 
 
 "Now, hunny, tell me as you don't 
 care a snap zif he are gone ; " watching 
 her keenly for the truth. 
 
 "No, father; indeed I do not care," 
 and the truth spoke in her expressive 
 eyes, as well as in the silvery sweetness 
 of her voice. ' ' I may have been silly, 
 I know, but now I am glad that it is all 
 over between us ; that he has passed out 
 of my life forever. I am sure that it is 
 best ; a deceitful lover could not make a 
 true husband. " 
 
 " You are mighty right ; that's jist az 
 true az preachin' an' I know'd hit all 
 along ; but still, hunny, fer your satisfac- 
 tion I would a shet my eyes an' my 
 mouth an' a let ye had 'im, an' a tried
 
 22 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 ter make the best ov a bad bargain. 
 But now, Abby, as he didn't have sense 
 anuff ter know which side ov his bread 
 waz buttered, we'll thes let him slide 
 an' never think enny more about him. 
 Eh, darlin' ?" 
 
 "I shall think no more about him. 
 Certainly I shall care no more about 
 him," she answered, with spirit. 
 
 " That's right ; that's thes what a 
 spunky gurrill should do. Thar's a heap 
 better fish in the pond than Miss Garden 
 ever cotched outen hit with her pin-hook, 
 I don't care how high she cocks up her 
 nose. An' now, hunny, I'me a coming 
 ter the pint : sense I would a bin will in' 
 fer you to a married ter suit yerself, 
 though hit would a went mightily agin 
 the grain, now I wants ter know zif I 
 waz ter pick ye out a nice, good-lookin' 
 feller, a real born gentleman, would ye be 
 willin, ter marry ter suit me. Thes ter 
 please me, Abby ? " 
 
 "Marry to please you?" opening the 
 fawn-like eyes in startled wonder. 
 
 "Yes; that's hit." 
 
 " But why should I marry at all, father ? 
 Surely you are not wanting to get rid of 
 me?"
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 23 
 
 " Oh, no. Not ter git shet ov you, but 
 thes becase it is natcheral. All wimmin, 
 sometime or other, are bound ter marry ; 
 they war made a purpose, an' they are thes 
 bound ter do hit ; an' if they can't make a 
 spoon they're shore to spile a horn." 
 
 "But, father, I have no wish to marry. 
 There is no one whom I love better than 
 you," she demurely added, after a little 
 stop. 
 
 "Yes, but I've picked ye out a sweet- 
 heart ; he's young, an' good-lookin' an' he's 
 smart ; got more sense in a minit than Tom 
 'ill ever have in a lifetime. He's true an' 
 he's honest, an' he's kind-harted ; I'ze bin a 
 watchin' 'im, an' tother day I seed 'im pick 
 up a little nigger chile 'at had stumped his 
 toe an' fell a crying in the gutter ; an', aside 
 all this, Abby, he's ov good stock ; one ov the 
 best famblys in the state. He's a gentle- 
 man ; a regular pump-sole, waz borned rich 
 an' waz raised rich ; is well eddicated an' all 
 that. Thes now his daddy is a leetle under 
 the weather, in an' leetle money tight, but 
 that don't matter ; yell have enuff fer 
 both ; an' oh, my darlin', I would be mon- 
 stus proud ter see my purty darter married 
 ter such a feller, an' in such a fambly." 
 
 The young lady did not speak, but the
 
 24 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 large, expressive eyes grew larger as the 
 wonder grew into a half fear. 
 
 " Yes, Grace," Grace was the name her 
 mother had given her and he always called 
 her Grace when in pathetic earnestness, 
 " yes, Grace, I have sot my ole heart on this 
 match, an' hit would make me so proud if ye 
 would, an' I do believe hit would break my 
 heart if you won't." 
 
 The girl was touched, for Abigail Hardie 
 was not an undutiful daughter. She had 
 known and silently felt the sacrifice of all 
 ambition, and pride he had made in yield- 
 ing to the choice her inexperienced and 
 slightly perverse girlhood had first made, 
 and now that that folly had passed and the 
 fatherly wisdom that had feared for her 
 happiness, and had yet silently deferred to 
 her choice, had been vindicated by the faith- 
 lessness of her lover, she felt that something 
 in the way of gratitude, if not filial duty, 
 was due him. And then, by some strange 
 psychological chance, or coincidence, she 
 thought of her mother, and in that moment 
 of tender remembrance of the sainted dead 
 and of daughterly reverence for the living, 
 she bowed her soul to her father's will ; and 
 without further question as to whom it 
 was, or when it was to be, she answered, as
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 25 
 
 a Biblical daughter of one of the patriarchs 
 might have answered : 
 
 ' ' You have been good to me, father, kind 
 and considerate in all things, and it is as lit- 
 tle as I can do to obey you in all things. I 
 can trust your love implicitly, and if you 
 think it best that I should marry, then I 
 will marry, whom you may choose, and 
 whenever you will. " 
 
 ' ' You are a good gurrill, Grace, an' ye 
 spoke .thes then like yer mammy would 'a' 
 talked. Ye haz made me monstus glad, 
 case I know hit's fer yer own good. I have 
 not chused blindly, an' I am shore he will 
 love ye." 
 
 "If I make myself lovable, lean compel 
 his love," she answered. 
 
 " Tu-by-shore, tu-by-shore. In course ye 
 will. He thes can't help hit. He's bound 
 ter love ye. But I don't b'lieve that I've 
 told ye, yet, who he is ? " 
 
 " No ; please tell me ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know az you know 'im, 
 but hits Mr. David Winston, a son ov the 
 Jedge, only a heap younger an' a heap 
 smarter. The Jedge is sorter stuck up on 
 his blue-blood, ye know ; fust fambly pump- 
 sole pernella, white kid gloves, an' all that 
 sort ov thing, while David is bankin' on
 
 26 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 brains. Thar's a team fer ye : the Jedge's 
 blood, David's brains an' your money, ter say 
 nothin' ov yer purty looks ! I Golly ! hit 
 makes me laff ter think about hit. Ye 
 knows 'im, don't ye ? " 
 
 " Oh, is he the man ? I am so glad. Yes, 
 I know him, or no, I do not know him. I 
 have no personal acquaintance with him ; 
 we are not in the same set, you know," with 
 a little flush. ' ' But I have seen him and 
 heard him speak. I heard him night before 
 last, at the City Hall. I went with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Grey ; he was really eloquent and I 
 was quite proud of his triumph, for of 
 course it was a triumph, everybody said 
 so." 
 
 " Yes ; he's a trump, both bowers and the 
 joker, an' better 'an all he's a true-blue 
 dimmycrat, an' he's thes as shore tu beat 
 the hine-sights off ov Tom Lawson as the 
 'lection day comes round. I'll stake a cool 
 thousan' on hit." 
 
 "Oh, I do hope he will I" 
 
 " Oh, he's bound to do hit ; only, Abby, 
 we 'ill have ter pitch in an' leg for 'im. 
 An' that's why I'm in sich a hurry ter fix 
 things up atween ye. I wants us ter help 
 'im. As I tells ye, the ole Jedge is in a 
 money tight ; the facks is, Abby, he's dead
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 27 
 
 broke, busted higher than a kite ; an' poor 
 David 'ill have ter paddle his own canoe, all 
 by hisself while Tom Lawson's rich wife is 
 putting in her oar, an' thes a spending 
 money by the barrel. So, Abby, hunny, zif 
 you an' him can fix hit up atwixt ye, I 
 wants ye ter do it right away, I don't care 
 zif hit waz to-night. Marry at once, an' 
 then you can roll up yer sleeves an' pitch in 
 like a house afire. I'll plank down ten 
 dollars for Tom Lawson's wife's one. Hel- 
 low, what is it, Nanny ? " as a negro waiting- 
 girl stepped in. 
 
 " Hit's anoat, Mr. Winston's boy fotched," 
 she answered, presenting a letter, with a 
 courtesy. 
 
 " Oh-ho ! a letter fer me ? Ye must read 
 hit fer me, Abby, I hain't got my specks 
 handy." 
 
 The young lady opened the missive and 
 read : 
 
 " MB. ISRAEL HARDIE DEAR SIR : My father in- 
 forms me that you have appointed an interview with him 
 for to-morrow. As I am interested in the matter in ques- 
 tion, it is, perhaps, essential that I be present, and as I have 
 an appointment to speak at Red Oak, at one p. M., I hope 
 that you can find it convenient to call early, say at ten 
 o'clock. 
 
 "Very respectfully, 
 " Your obedient and humble servant, 
 
 "DAVID It. WINSTON."
 
 28 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Ah-ha! that's all right. Whar's the 
 nigger that brought hit ? " 
 
 "He's at dedoor." 
 
 "Then 111 tell 'im," starting out. 
 
 " Father, would it not be better to write 
 the answer ? " suggested the young lady. 
 
 "Eh, well? mebby hit mought. Yes, I 
 s'pose that would be the proper kink. But 
 you must write hit fer me." 
 
 "Very well," and out she hurried to run 
 up to her own little writing-room, or study, 
 to indite the answer. 
 
 "Here it is," she said, returning a few 
 moments later. " Shall I read it ? " 
 
 " Yes, read hit ter me." 
 
 " MR. DAVID K. WINSTON : I can readily accommodate 
 my time to your own convenience, and will meet you at ten 
 A. M., as requested. 
 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 " ISRAEL HARDIE." 
 
 "That's the dictum. Thest az good az 
 hizzen ; but, Abby, why didn't ye write on 
 finer paper ; little sweet-smelling note with 
 thing- a-ma jigs around the aiges ? " 
 
 "That would hardly be in good taste. 
 This is a plain business note and it should 
 be on plain business paper." 
 
 " That's a fac' ; bizness is bizness, an' hits
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. . 29 
 
 allers best not ter have too many curlima- 
 cues about it. Here, Nanny, give hit ter his 
 man, an' here, here is half a dollar, give hit 
 ter him fer good luck." 
 
 " Yes, sah," and courtesying out, the girl 
 hurried down to the door. 
 
 "Yere, you nigger; yere's de letter. 
 Young Mistus, Miss Grace writ it herseff. 
 She kin write same's a man, Miss Grace 
 kin ; but you needn't go an' tell you young 
 Marse so ; an' yere, yere's a haff ole Marse 
 sont yer ; I'ze a great mine to keep hit 
 myseff, though," presenting the note and 
 holding up the tantalizing fee above her 
 head, in true African coquetry. 
 
 "Tanky, miss; you's de purtiest waitin'- 
 gal in all de town ; come, gimme de haff, 
 an' I'll give yer a kiss. Oh, hit's no yuse 
 ter dodge, I'ze bound ter have 'em boff," 
 making a grab for the coin and then hold- 
 ing her for the kiss. 
 
 " Go long wid ye, yer black nigger, you ; 
 hain't yer 'shamed ov yerseff , wid yer pro- 
 jickin' rite yere on de whit folkse's door in 
 broad daylight ? Dar, den, " complacently 
 yielding, ' ' take hit an' be off wid yerseff, 
 afore Sam sees you an' bustes yer head fer 
 you." 
 
 " Zif yer please, sah, yere is de note dey
 
 30 . DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 toled me ter fotch ye, an' de waitin'-gal sez 
 dat de young Mistus wrote hit sheseff," 
 said Jake, as, hat in hand, he stood before 
 his young Master a few minutes later. 
 
 The young gentleman carelessly opened 
 and read it. 
 
 "Ah, this is well worded and neatly writ- 
 ten, a very pretty and characteristic hand. 
 I wonder if she really did write it ? Pshaw, 
 no ! Of course not ; she has an amanuensis, 
 and that is much better than the gift of 
 writing itself. What is the use of brains of 
 one's own if one has the money to buy the 
 brains of others. Ah, what a blessed thing 
 it is to have money ! " 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 A FAIR BARGAIN. 
 
 "WELL, Abby, hit's nearly ten ; 'ginst I 
 walk over ter the Jedge's hit'll be time. 
 Good-morning, huimy," tenderly kissing her 
 good-bye. " What shell I tell yer sweet- 
 heart ? " in a more cheerful vein. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," she laughingly 
 answered, "unless I write across your
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. . 31 
 
 back, ' Barkis is willin'," and with a 
 strange flutter, as if half scared at her bold- 
 ness, she ran back through the hall to her 
 room. 
 
 Promptly to the moment, the old gentle- 
 man knocked at the Judge's office. 
 
 " That is the old hound now. Show him 
 in, Jake. Father, you must receive him, I 
 really haven't the patience to talk to him," 
 whispered the young man. 
 
 " Yes, you only be quiet and let me man- 
 age him. Ah, Mr. Hardie, is that you ? I 
 hope you are in good health this morning. " 
 
 " Yes, Jedge, hit's me ; good-morning, sir. 
 I'm purty tol'able, thank ye, that is 'ceptin' 
 a little tech ov the rumatiz in the left 
 shoulder. Hope you find yourseff the same," 
 effusively grasping the Judge's dainty fin- 
 gers in his horny grip and giving them a 
 squeeze that set every nerve in his system 
 a-tremble. "Eh, an' here is Mr. David; 
 Howdy do, sir, howdy," dropping the deli- 
 cate hand of the father and seizing upon 
 the sturdier palm of the son. ' ' I'm rael glad 
 ter see you. Hope I didn't' keep yer waitin' ? " 
 
 " No ; you are on time." 
 
 "Yes, I allers is ; I makes it a pint allers 
 ter gitthar." 
 
 " Of course; but as my own time is limited,
 
 32 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 I hope you will be seated, and. dispensing 
 with ceremony, proceed at once to business," 
 a little ungraciously. 
 
 " Now, you're talkin'. Business fust an' 
 ceremony arterwards. I hain't much on 
 ceremony nohow, an' asides, I haz a lot ov 
 other bizness ter tend to ter-day. Ter- 
 day's return day, you know, an' I've a 
 lot ov lame ducks ter look after." 
 
 "Well, sir, what is it I am to understand 
 you wish ? " direct from the young man, a 
 little nettled at the suggestion of lame 
 ducks. 
 
 "Hey ! I sposed yer daddy had 'splained 
 ever'thing, eh, Jedge ? " 
 
 "My father has explained his unfort- 
 unate indebtedness to you 
 
 " Tu-by-shore," nodding encouragingly. 
 
 ' ' And he assures me of his utter inability 
 to pay it now." 
 
 "Ah ! has he ? then I am glad ; that is I 
 am sorry for the Jedge, but hit ain't so much 
 the money I am after as the t'other thing. " 
 
 " What other thing ? " with a look. 
 
 "Why, didn't he tell ye? 'bout the 
 marrying, ov course : you an' Abby." 
 
 "I hope, Mr. Hardie, that you are not 
 seriously in earnest about that impossible 
 thing?"
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 33 
 
 " Earnest ! In course I am. In cool, sober 
 yearnest. Why not ? " 
 
 "Because it is preposterous. I must tell 
 you at once and for all, that such a thing 
 can never be. I would not marry your 
 daughter were she a solid lump of gold 
 from the crown of her head to the sole of 
 her foot/' 
 
 "Well, I should say not ! an' I wouldn't 
 ax yer zif she waz in that kin' ov a fix. 
 Why, she wouldn't be no better'n a 
 heathen nimmage. But Abby hain't that 
 sort ov a cat. She's wuff her weight in 
 gold, an' the man as gits her will git hit, 
 with a nigger throwed in with every 
 pound, but thar's no gold about her make- 
 up, not even in her teeth; she's all gurrill 
 shore anuff, flesh an' blood, pure, plump, 
 an' fat, every inch ov her, an' as true grit as 
 you ever seed." 
 
 ' "I beg your pardon, Mr. Hardie, but 
 you misapprehend me. I have no possible 
 doubt of the carnal genuineness of the 
 young lady, nor do I question the substan- 
 tial solidity of her corporosity, with its 
 tempting jointure of gold and negroes ; 
 but what I mean is this : all these things, the 
 gold and negroes, with a million more could 
 never make me so far debase my manhood,
 
 34 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 so far forget my family, to say nothing of 
 myself, as to think of marrying a woman so 
 far beneath me in everything that honorable 
 men hold dear, or women hold precious. " 
 
 The old man staggered as if stricken by 
 a blow. It was a blow, a cruel, unmanly 
 thrust, and it struck home to the heart. 
 The young man noticed the hurt look, not 
 resentful, but pathetic in its anguish, and 
 he would have given much to have recalled 
 the bitter words ; but he could not, and 
 before he could frame an apology the old 
 man spoke. 
 
 "Ye speaks mighty plain, sir, an' mebby 
 hit is best, but I'm monstus sorry, sorry fer 
 you, as well as fer her an' fer your daddy. 
 I bed so sot my heart on the scheme, an' I 
 wouldn't mine hit so bad zif I hadn't a went 
 an' 'suaded Abby in the notion too. Pore 
 gurrill, hit'll cut her feathers powerful ter 
 have herseff throwed back at herseff like 
 this. She hain't ole an' tough like me 
 as have rubbed agin the world tell I've got 
 usened ter hits jagged aiges, but she's as 
 tender-footed in her feelin's as any lady in 
 the land, I don't care whar they comes 
 from. I've never in all her life let trubble 
 come anigh her." 
 
 "I am sorry, too, that I spoke so plainly
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 35 
 
 that I had to speak at all. I would not 
 willingly hurt you, but I could not other- 
 wise express nay meaning. I only wish 
 you to understand how utterly impossible 
 this thing is," David answered, in a kind of 
 subdued apology. 
 
 "Yes, I understands, an' as that pint is 
 settled, we'll let it slide an' take up the 
 tother one." 
 
 " Yes; what is it we can do ? " 
 
 " I don't know what 'tis ye can do, but I 
 kin tell ye what 'tis I wants. Ter-day is 
 return day an' I wants my money ? " 
 
 ' ' We are very sorry, Mr. Hardie, but as I 
 told you just now, my father has confessed 
 his inability to pay you. The notes, as I 
 understand, are well secured ; could you not 
 be generous and grant us an extension ? We 
 would be willing to increase the interest." 
 
 "Well, no ! 'Tain't no yuse. Ye can't 
 pay the intrust now 'thout makin' hit more, 
 an' asides I don't want any more intrust ; 
 seven per cent, is anuff fer me. Big intrust 
 allers makes poor debts, an' hits more than 
 ye uns can pay. Ye see as how I'll hev ter 
 talk a leetle plain, too ; not as I is mad, nor 
 disapinted, 'caze I hain't, an' zif I waz I'd 
 not let that mix along with my bizniss. 
 The man's a fool as will do that ; mix hiz
 
 36 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 feelings up along with hiz bizniss, he thes 
 cuts off hiz nose ter spite hiz face. No, 
 bizness is bizness an' spite is spite, an' the 
 two won't mix ; an' ter come square down 
 ter the pint, the security hain't good ; that 
 is, I means, 'that hit is good anuff so fur as 
 hit goes, but hit don't begin to reach the 
 gooddy." 
 
 " You have a mortgage on all our 
 property. That should be sufficient to cover 
 every cent we owe you," feebly protested 
 the young man. 
 
 "No, but hit ain't ! If all the rale estate 
 an' every blessed nigger ye have waz put on 
 the block ter-day hit wouldn't bring the 
 haff ov it." 
 
 "But you need not put it on the block. 
 There is no need of a sale. I will transfer it 
 to you in fee-simple now," interposed the 
 Judge. 
 
 " Yes, but I don't want the property, I've 
 got more sich now than I can yuse, and 
 more Ian' than I kin pay taxes on, an' more 
 niggers than I kin feed." 
 
 " But you can hold it until you can realize 
 its value, and then indemnify yourself for 
 all cost." 
 
 "Yes; that would do zif times war like 
 they used ter waz, but they hain't ; and fur-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 37 
 
 thersome more, they is a gitting wuss an' 
 wuss. The longer I kept hit the littler hit 
 would fetch. Hit 'ulcl be like buying a sick 
 nigger, with the galloping consumption, an' 
 waiting f er niggers ter go up. An' afore nig- 
 gers riz he'd lay down an' die an' 'then whar'd 
 you be ? No, no ; thar's no sense in that. I 
 knows yer bizness, Jedge, thest as well az 
 you-uns know hit, an' mebby a leetle more 
 so, an' the longer I waits on you the wusser 
 hit gits ; the harder hit will be fer you ter 
 pay, an' the less chance I will heve ter git 
 my money. An' then, agin, thar's a nuther 
 pint ; zif I war ter take the property thes dry 
 so, without a foreclosure ov the morgidges, 
 I'd hev the Garden estate a bouncing on 
 me like a duck upon a June-bug, fer what 
 you owes 'em. The gurrill is married, yer 
 know, an' will soon be arter you with a 
 sharp stick fer the money. No, no ; Jedge, 
 hit won't do." 
 
 "But cannot you arrange it with your son 
 to give me a little time on that matter ? " 
 pleaded the Judge, in abject despair. 
 
 ' ' He ain't no son ov mine, Tom hain't. 
 I've got no son an' I'm dinged glad ov it, fer 
 he is a trifling puppy, Tom is ; I don't care if 
 I did fotch 'im up myseff, same as he'd a 
 been my own."
 
 38 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Not your son! You surprise me;" 
 exclaimed the Judge. 
 
 " No ; I hain't got nary chile in the wur- 
 ruld, 'ceptin Abby, an' I don't want any, 
 nuther. Tom Hardie hain't nuthin' but a 
 tacky I picked up outen the woods, up on 
 Harrycane crick, an' I raised 'im like a 
 whitehead, only ter hev 'im turn an' bite me, 
 like the snake we yused ter read about in 
 the spellin' book. No, Jedge, I've got noth- 
 in creation ter do erlong with Tom, nor his 
 wife, nuther. She holds her head too high 
 fer me ; an the onliest way I see fer me 
 ter help ye would, be thes ter run my 
 hand down in my pockit an' haul out the 
 spondulix ; which I 'ould a bin willin' ter do 
 zif this tuther little game had a worked. 
 An', even now, Jedge, I'd like ter help ye zif 
 I could see my way outen the woods. But 
 I can't see hit. Hit 'ould be thes a takin' 
 the money as I haz saved up fer Abby 
 outen her own pocket an' a puttin' hit in 
 yourn, an' that, I hardly think you'd like 
 fer me ter do, seein' as how we hain't no 
 kin?" 
 
 " No, no, certainly not ; but, Mr. Hardie, 
 I have other resources ; not immediately 
 available, it is true, but they will be in time, 
 a very short while, I hope. The Willoughby
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 39 
 
 claim is just and true, and I am certain to 
 recover the full amount, with damages." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I've looked in that thing too, 
 an' I think as ye will finally git hit, an' I 
 hopes ter gracious ye will, fer I thinks, my- 
 seff, that the debt is a just one, but then the 
 law iz a mighty oncertain critter, an' hit 'ill be 
 a monstus long time a coming. Hit may do 
 your gran-chillen some good, but hit 'ill 
 never buy socks fer your darter, nor yer 
 son, nuther. But, Jedge, yer knows the law 
 better nor I kin tell ye, but still, zif I war 
 you, I wouldn't bank too much on the Wil- 
 loughby case." 
 
 " But, my God, man, what am I to do ? " 
 groaned the Judge, as the astute old man 
 hauled out and mercilessly rattled the bones 
 of the hideous skeleton he had been trying 
 so long to hide, even from himself. 
 
 "I don't see as ye kin do nothin'. I've 
 waited az long az I reasonly kin, an' hit's 
 no sorter yuse ter wait any longer. Hit 
 would a bin better zif we had a closed hit up 
 yisterdy, without all this wurry 'bout Abby, 
 but I wanted ter give ye every chance I 
 could. I don't say hit to scare ye, Jedge, but 
 I can't see things az ye see 'em. I studied 
 hit all out afore I corned ter ye yisterdy, 
 an' hits no yuse a talkin', you's in a nine-
 
 40 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 hole thest az certin az shooting. An' that's 
 how I corned ter make the plot I did ter try 
 an' bring hit all in the fambly, like, an' 
 then I could step in an' help ye. I seed ye 
 waz flat when ye couldn't see hit yerseff, 
 an' I wanted ter lift yer up agin afore any 
 body else knowed it. I hain't no big bug 
 myseff, but I somehow hates ter see a big 
 bug get stuck in the mud. Hit puts fokes 
 ter talkin'. An' thar's your son, Mr. 
 David," reaching out his hand in uncon- 
 scious protection, "I wanted ter help 'im 
 too. I don't know why hit is, but somehow 
 or nuther my heart has alless had a sneakin' 
 hankerin' arter that boy." 
 
 "You are very kind, Mr. Hardie, and I 
 must thank you for your goodness," cried 
 the young man, instinctively -reaching for 
 the friendly hand. 
 
 "No; hits thes nacheral, an' I couldn't 
 help it. Hit thes corned dry so an' you 
 needn't mine it, " patting the offered hand in 
 a vague apology for the presumption of his 
 kindly feelings. 
 
 " But cannot you help us, without bind- 
 ing our children to what may be to them 
 both a lifetime of misery ? " asked the 
 Judge, in one more blind appeal for help. 
 
 "No, that wouldn't be nacheral; hit
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 41 
 
 'ould be sorter like givin' hit away ; an' I 
 don't think, Jedge, 'zif ye 'ill look at hit a 
 minit that ye 'ould like ter hev hit that 
 way. Hit 'ould hardly be honerable, now, 
 would hit, Jedge ? 
 
 "And do you think, sir," fiercely put in 
 the young man, " that it would be any the 
 less dishonorable for me to marry your 
 daughter, a woman whom I have never 
 seen, and for whom I have no regard, not 
 even so much as a decent respect ? To 
 marry her simply for her money ? " 
 
 "Well, yes; hits more like bizness, an' 
 bizness is honerable, zif hits all square an' 
 fair. An' that's what I waz wanting ter 
 make this. I wanted no hiding o' faults or 
 meannesses about hit like a trading in 
 niggers, but I wanted ever'thing plain an' 
 above board ; no juggling under the kiver ; 
 but I wanted ye ter see Abby, an' if you can 
 fine one kinky hair in her head, or one black 
 spot on her character, then you needn't tech 
 her with a ten- foot pole. Hit iz thest a 
 matter ov bizness, an' ther's a blamed sight 
 more honnerbleness in a straightforard 
 bizness, than thar is in the law ; I kin tell 
 yer that, Jedge, or in politics uther, Mr. 
 David. But that hain't the pint," he con- 
 tinued, after a pause to challenge dispute to
 
 42 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 his axiom. " Now here's the way I looks at 
 this bizness : you're a young man ; you've 
 got sense, an' eddication, an' ambition, an' 
 brass anuff ter match ; you've got a good 
 name, an' come ov a good family ; you 
 stands high, an' ye wants ter clime still 
 higher. Well, I glories in your spunk, an' 
 I'm for ye. You're a dimmicrat an' so's me, 
 I allers was one an' I spects ter be one tell 
 Gabriel toots his horn ; I tells yer what's a 
 fac' ; I'd rather be a noxen than ter be a 
 whig ; but thar's thes one thing ye lacks, 
 young man, an' that's the one thing need- 
 ful ; you lacks money ; the spizarinctum. 
 Now, thar's no yuse a kicking, yer daddy's 
 busted, too bacl ter skin. I don't say this 
 ter hurt yer feelings, but thest ter let yer 
 see yourseff, as I sees ye,, an' as the Bank 
 sees ye. Here's all these papers ov your 
 daddy, they calls fer a mint ov money, but 
 unless I scratched my own name acrost they 
 backs, I couldn't get fifty thousand dollars 
 on 'em. I'm monstus sorry hits so, but so 
 it is." 
 
 "Yes, it is sad," drearily acquiesced the 
 young gentleman. 
 
 " Adzactly ; an' thar is thest whar ye 
 stand. An' now, here is Abby : she's got the 
 money, thest oodles ov it ; outside ov these
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 43 
 
 little things, I've got a cool millyun salted 
 down fer her, an' what's hern would a bin 
 yourn, an' that would 'a' put yer daddy on 
 his legs again, an' 'a' put ye a long way 
 ahead ov anybody in this deestrick. An' 
 asides all this, thar's Abby herself ; az I tole 
 yer daddy yisterday, she's no slouch ter 
 be grinned at, but a rael sniptious gurrill. 
 She's powerful purty, zif I do say it, my- 
 self, an' she's smart ; I've spent a sight ov 
 money on her raisin' an' she's well eddi- 
 cated. I lay she kin spell ever' word in the 
 spellin' book by heart, an' I'll bet a coon- 
 skin, that she can turn you down in Lat- 
 ting, er Greek, er even Dutch, an' she kin 
 thest beat ole Tom Walker, hisseff, a playin' 
 on the pianny. She's never bin about 
 amungst the big bugs much, though she's 
 got some nice gurrill friends what writes ter 
 her from Charleston, an' Baltimore, what 
 she got acquainted with at school. But 
 as I was a sayin', round yere, she don't mix 
 along with the pumpsoles much, caze she's 
 monstus proud, an' she knos as how they all 
 turn up thar noses at her ole' homespun 
 daddy ; but fer all that, she can hold a 
 candle to any ov' em. Thar 'ould a been no 
 need fer you ever ter be ashamed ov her, 
 no, not even if ye tooked her to Congress
 
 44 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 with ye. Hey ; mebby ye think I don't 
 know what I'm a talkin' about, but I does," 
 as the young man had to smile at the ab- 
 surdity of his enthusiasm. "I hain't much 
 on style myseff, but I knows the right thing 
 when I see it," and in ludicrous vindication 
 of his intuitive breeding, the old gentle- 
 man triumphantly fumbled his flashy seals. 
 
 His auditors could find nothing to say, and 
 pausing a moment for breath he continued : 
 
 "An' asides all that, she's got some grit 
 herseff, Abby haz. Thar hain't a spunkyer 
 'ummon in all this town than she is ; an' ye 
 thes git her dander raised an' I'd like ter see 
 the gurrill, er man uther, in all this lay-out 
 that could crawl over her. I tell ye, sir, that 
 she'd a backed ye with teeth an' toe-nails, an' 
 with her money ter push ye an' her grit ter 
 back ye, ye 'ould thes 'a' been bound ter 
 knock the hine-sights off ov Lawson. Why, 
 sir, she's a plotting fer ye a'ready." 
 
 " She is very good." 
 
 " Yes, when I went home, yisterday, arter 
 the talk I had with yer daddy, an' told her 
 ov my plans, an' 'suaded her into the notion ; 
 ye see, like ye she didn't take ter hit at the 
 fust jump ; she didn't think hit right fer 
 fokes ter marry thes so kinder off-hand like, 
 without any courtin' or pea-vining, ye know.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 45 
 
 She said as people should know something 
 about each other afore they hitched ter- 
 gether fer life ; thes as if young fokes a 
 courtin' could ever fine one a nuther out, 
 when they both are doin' thar level best ter 
 show thar best pints an' ter hide thar wust ; 
 but arter I argied the pint with her awhile, 
 an' showed her how much I 'ad sot my heart 
 on seeing her married in a good fambly, 
 why she gin in, an' said yes, she 'ould marry 
 thes ter please me." 
 
 " Ah ! she is a dutiful daughter," slightly 
 ironically. 
 
 "Yes, she's allers been a good chile. An' 
 then when I told her who hit was that I 
 had picked out for her, an' that hit waz you, 
 ye thest orter a seed her brighten up, an' it 
 would a done ye good ter see how she lit 
 inter Tom Lawson. Ye see she hearn you 
 tother night at the City Hall, an' she come 
 home chock full ov you an' your speech. 
 An' then when I wanted ter sorter feel ov 
 her like, an' told her how Lawson's rich wife 
 was a planking down the money, an' that 
 you had none to call his hand, she thes flared 
 up an' sez, sez she, ' Father, we must see the 
 blind and go ten better ; ' or I mean, that is, 
 she didn't say them very words, but that waz 
 what she meaned. And, I gad, sir ; I 'ould
 
 46 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 'a' done hit. Fer every dollar Tom Lawson 
 put down I'd 'a' put ten ; I'd 'a' thest pulled 
 the bung outen the bank an' 'a' let 'er 
 run, an' zif that warn't anuff I'd 'a' drawed 
 on Mobile. But, sirs, that's all knocked in the 
 head now, petered out wuss nor a bline 
 nigger with the small-pox, an' I've got ter 
 go back an tell her that hit's no go ; that she 
 hain't no meat fitten fer sich a big bug az 
 you. I'ze monstus sorry that I ever started 
 it ; she'd 'a' never cared anything about hit 
 then." 
 
 " I am very sorry too ; truly and painfully 
 sorry. I must thank you, though, for the 
 honor you intended me, and thank your 
 daughter for her generous advocacy of my 
 cause," the young gentleman answered 
 soberly. ' ' But the question recurs, again : 
 what are we to do ? " he added, with an 
 involuntary glance at his father. 
 
 "That's fer you ter say, you an' yer 
 daddy. I've had my say an' I've sed all I've 
 got ter say. In course, I sees hit from 
 another pint ov view than you sees hit ; I'ze 
 a plain bizness man an' I looks at it from a 
 bizness standpint. Mebby zif I seed hit as 
 you uns see hit I moutent blame you." 
 
 "Father, what must I do?" and there 
 was the pathos of despair in the appeal.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 47 
 
 "Alas! I cannot say. Would to God I 
 knew what to do," answered the father, 
 with a groan. 
 
 " Then I shall cut the knot at once. And, 
 Mr. Hardie, if you will permit me to with- 
 draw my hasty and insulting words and be 
 kind enough to renew your proposition, I 
 will accept your offer and will marry your 
 daughter. " 
 
 "Tu-by-shore I will renew hit. I hain't 
 never took hit back yit, an' it's the best 
 bargain ye ever struck in yer life ; so lets 
 shake hands on it," grasping the reluctant 
 hand and giving it an excruciating squeeze. 
 
 "Yes; I will marry Miss Hardie I pre- 
 sume she is a miss ? but you must under- 
 stand, and she too, that it is wholly a 
 matter of business. I give her my hand and 
 name, but nothing else goes with it ; I can 
 give her no love ; no love is possible ; even 
 respect is hardly probable. She marries me 
 for my name and social position and I marry 
 her for her money." 
 
 "Yes, that's all hunkydory, an that's the 
 way Abby sorter put hit herseff." 
 
 ' ' She must be an eminently practical 
 girl?" 
 
 " She is that ; she never looks at things 
 cross-eyed, an' this iz perzactly what she sez,
 
 48 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 sez she, ' Ov course I don't expects him ter 
 love me at the start, havin' never seed me, 
 but zif I makes myseff lovabul, an' he is the 
 gentleman I takes 'im ter be, I'll compel 'im 
 ter love me ; and zif I'm not worthy ov his 
 love I won't deserve hit, nor I won't expect 
 hit.'" 
 
 "Ah! very prettily said. Then I am to 
 understand that she thoroughly appreciates 
 the situation, and that she is willing ? " 
 
 ' ' Yes, she understands, an' that is adzatly 
 what she sed agin this mornin' when I 
 toled her good-bye. Sez I, thes ter tease er 
 like, 'Abby,'sez I, what shall I tell your 
 sweetheart fer you ? ' An' she flushed up 
 redder en' any rose, an' then she laffed . an' 
 sez, sez, she, ' Oh ! I orter chawk hit on yer 
 back an' let 'im read hit fer himseff : Barkum 
 is willin' er waitin',' I don't perzactly 'mem- 
 bers. Hit waz kinder Greek ter me an' I 
 couldn't make head nor tail ov hit, but I 
 spoze hit is some ov these little quips she 
 haz picked up outen some ov the outlandish 
 books she's bin a readin'. " 
 
 "Ah, yes, Barkis is willing ; that is Greek 
 and shows your daughter gifted with a fine 
 sense of humor, as well as classical erudition. 
 Barkis and Peggoty ; two fools well met, 
 heigh-ho ! why not ? But now, Mr. Hardie,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 49 
 
 to return to ' bizness, ' when do you propose 
 to lead this one precious ewe-lamb of yours 
 to the sacrificial altar ? " 
 
 "Nan?" 
 
 " I mean, when do you wish to complete 
 this trade, to sign, seal and deliver the 
 goods ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I see; the sooner the better. 
 You're bizzy with your electioneering, an' '11 
 want the spondulix right away, an', asides, 
 the Gardens mout call the Jedge ter taw, an' 
 I wants 'im ter be ready, so ye kin marry at 
 oncet, an' let the thing go on. Ye sed ye'd 
 be bizzy ter-day er I 'ould say go over at 
 once, an' have hit over. Thar's no yuse a 
 waitin'." % 
 
 " But the lady, is she quite ready ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Abby's a minit man, Abby is, 
 an' yer'll allers find her reddy. Zif I wuz 
 ter go right home now an' say, Abby, we've 
 got ter start to Jerryco ter-night, kin ye git 
 reddy ? she'd say, yes ; an' call Nanny an' go 
 ter packin', an' I lay that afore I could go 
 an' git the tickets, she'd hev her trunk out 
 on the sidewalk a settin' on hit a waitin' fer 
 the waggin. I tells yer what, young man, 
 you've got ter keep yer socks on zif you keep 
 up with Abby. So thes say when an' she'll be 
 reddy, armed au' equipt as the law directs."
 
 50 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 ' ' Very well ; as you say, this is strictly a 
 matter of business, and I can see no good 
 reason for delay. I shall not get back from 
 Red Oak until late in the evening, or I would 
 suggest eight o'clock to-night. I shall have 
 to speak at Philippi to-morrow at one P. M., 
 but I can possibly find time in the morning 
 to attend to the matter. It will take but a 
 few moments, and by driving hard I can 
 make the time up. Will you engage to have 
 her ready by, say 10:30, in the morning ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I'll fix ever'thing. She kin git 
 her trix ready ter-night, an' I'll get the 
 lisens, an' see the passin'. Ye kin marry at 
 the house." 
 
 " Yes, that will save time." 
 
 " Tu-by-shore, an' asides, she hain't much 
 ov a han' fer show, an' 'ould druther have a 
 privit weddin' anyhow ; only ye kin fetch 
 as many ov yer friends as wants ter come ; 
 they'll all be welcome, an' I reckon they'll 
 find a plate an' a glass full an' a waitin' fer 
 'em." 
 
 "Thanks, you are very good. You will 
 present my devoirs to your daughter? or 
 perhaps I had best write her a note ; it 
 would be more like ' bizness ' ; will you kindly 
 carry it ? " 
 
 "Tu-by-shore I will, an a bunch of
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 hollyhocks, or poppies, zif you want to send 
 a posy." 
 
 "No, thank you; had I anticipated this 
 interesting dilemma, I should have certainly 
 provided a basket of poppies suited to the 
 emergency, but never even dreaming of the 
 surprising stroke of 'bizness' I will have 
 to rely upon the lady's good grace to excuse 
 any laches in sentiment. " 
 
 "Yes, she'll understand." 
 
 The young man turned to his table and 
 hastily wrote an ungracious note, and then, 
 without reading or revision, he addressed 
 and handed it to her father. 
 
 " Will you kindly hand this to Miss 
 Hardie, with my most dutiful regards ? 
 And now I see," consulting his watch, "I 
 haven't a moment more to lose ; I must 
 leave you and my father to adjust the 
 details of the settlement. I shall be 
 promptly on hand in the morning to fulfill 
 my part of the contract. I shall come at 
 10:30, sharp, which will give me thirty 
 minutes in which to w,oo, win and wed your 
 daughter," and seizing his hat he made a 
 bolt for the door, when his father gently 
 detained him. 
 
 "One moment, my son," rising up and 
 drawing him toward the door of the private
 
 52 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 consultation room, or confessional, as the 
 lawyers irreverently call it. "Let me see 
 you in here a moment before this unholy 
 compact is irrevocably sealed." 
 
 " I have but a moment ; please speak quick- 
 ly, for I have already decided," the son 
 answered, closing the door behind him and 
 facing his father. 
 
 " Can you do this thing, David ? Can you 
 make this creature your wife ? this woman 
 the mother of your children ? " 
 
 " I can marry her at least, and that is all 
 the old Shylock stipulates for. I can mum- 
 ble the ceremony of marriage, but she will 
 never be wife of mine ; she will be mother 
 of no child of mine ; I should expect a 
 hybrid monstrosity ; an idiot with a tail, or 
 a gorilla without one. No, sir, you need 
 not be uneasy for the species of your descend- 
 ants through me. There will be none by 
 this old hound's daughter." 
 
 "But, David, this is monstrous, brutal! 
 The woman has rights." 
 
 " And I," almost fiercely, " shall give her 
 the freest latitude in which to exercise them. 
 I shall give her my name and she may gild 
 it in brazen letters on her coach and drive 
 through Trinity Church itself, for all I care ; 
 but that is all I shall give."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 53 
 
 ' ' But if she is not so repulsive as we 
 think ; if she turns out to be worthy ? " 
 
 "Then that puts the onus of infamy upon 
 me ; if she is worthy to be my wife, I am 
 utterly unworthy of her, and should be 
 ashamed to ever stand in her presence. If 
 she is what I expect her to be I shall despise 
 her, but if she is anything better she must 
 despise me, and in either case, I can have 
 nothing to do with her. I shall marry her 
 to-morrow, and then I shall hurry away and 
 care not to ever see her again in the world. 
 You can finish your business with the old 
 man, and I shall be promptly on hand, " and 
 pulling his hat savagely down over his ears, 
 as if to hush all further cavil, he turned 
 from the room and dashed away. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CHANCE, DESTINY OR PROVIDENCE ; WHICH ? 
 
 "WELL, Abby ; we've got the thing fixed 
 at last, an' ever'thing is squegee, an' you're 
 ter be married ter-morrer mornin' at haff 
 arter ten o'clock, ter the secund," said the 
 old gentleman, with a little triumph, as his
 
 54 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 daughter met him in the hall, on his return 
 from the bank. 
 
 "To-morrow? so soon! That is impos- 
 sible," protested the young lady in conster- 
 nation. " The haste is unseemly ; really in- 
 decent." 
 
 " No, hit's not ; you thest hold your tater, 
 an' let me 'splain. Thar's no yuse a waitin' 
 nor no yuse a fixin.' Hit's only a privit 
 weddin', with nobody yere 'septin' the f ambly, 
 an' then hit's all right. Everybody iz willin' 
 an' hit's nobody else's bizness. You've got 
 plenty ov clothes good anuff . David '11 only 
 drap in fer half a hour an' then he'll hav' 
 ter make tracks ter the speakin'. They 
 speaks at Philippi ter-morrer an' he'll have 
 ter whoop it up, ter be thar in time. Ye mus- 
 sent spect much courtin' an' rose-buddin' an' 
 hunnying, an' sich like, 'til arter the 'lec- 
 tion. Tom Lawson 'ill gin 'im as much az 
 he can tote without 'im daily-diddling with 
 you. I knows, though, that you won't want 
 ter keep 'im f rum hiz work, you're too smart 
 a gurrill fer that. Thar'll be time anuff 
 fer pea-vinin' arter we 'lect 'im ter Con- 
 gress. You're ter be married at ten, an' 
 yer had better tell Sealy ter fix up a little 
 snack ov cakes an' persarves an' pies an' 
 things, with a few bottles ov champain, ter
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 55 
 
 drink yer health in. Yer knows how ter fix 
 hit ? The Jedge 'ill be here an' I 'spects his 
 darter 'ill come too, an' as many more as 
 they can fetch. Zif yer need any flowers 
 an' sich like, thest send f er Mr. Galceran an' 
 have 'im ter fix 'em, tell 'im thest ter spread 
 heseff , I don't care a ding if it cost a thousan' 
 dollars. I '11 see Mr. Davenport an' have 
 'im ter come over an' tie the knot for you. 
 David is gone ter the speakin' at Red Oak an' 
 won't be back tell late ter-night, an' then 
 he 'ill hev ter pole right back in the mornin' 
 to meet Lawson at Philippi. But hit's all 
 fixed, hunny, an' you need'n look so jubus ; 
 thar'l be no shenanygin about hit. He toled 
 me ter git the license an' ter have you ready. 
 He toled me ter give you his devours, with 
 his best love, an' toled me ter hand you this 
 letter, an' he'd a sent you a bunch ov holly- 
 hawks an' sich like, only he sed he didn't 
 know that he would a needed 'em so soon ; 
 so come, darling, you mussent go ter crying 
 now. Tut, tut ! hunny, don't cry. Hit's 
 not a goin' ter hurt you. Sho ! yer needn't 
 mine hit at all. Thar hain't a nether gurrill 
 in all the town but wouldn't give their eye- 
 teeth ter be in yer place. Now, now ! don't 
 cry, but take the letter an' run up ter your 
 own room an' read hit ter yerself."
 
 56 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 The young lady, with a sorrowing pertur- 
 bation, took the letter and hurried into the 
 secrecy of her own chamber, as much to 
 hide the disquieting fears and to wipe away 
 the unbidden tears, as to read the message 
 itself. 
 
 For a moment she stood by her window, 
 absently holding the letter in her hand, lost 
 in a strange daze, and then shaking off the 
 feeling she broke the seal and read : 
 
 " Miss HABDIE : Your father, presumably with your 
 approbation, has told me that you two have thoroughly 
 discussed the matter that so intimately concerns us both, 
 and that you are familiar with, and appreciate, all its 
 phases. Without commenting upon the propriety of the 
 methods or the wisdom of the step, I have only a hurried 
 moment in which to tell you that, to relieve the sore dis- 
 traint of my father, I have not without serious misgivings 
 as to the future, but with an honest purpose to do my duty 
 consented to the extraordinary proposal he made, and 
 will Deo volente be with you to-morrow at 10:30 A. M., to 
 speak before the holy man of God the vows of love and re- 
 gard you may hardly expect me to feel. When I come to 
 know you I may possible learn to love you ; until then, it 
 would be an unmanly hypocrisy in me to affect any other 
 than a respectful regard. 
 
 " Very truly, 
 
 " DAVID R. WINSTON." 
 
 "Oh, this is hard, this is cruel!" she 
 cried, and the tears came afresh; and then, 
 all unconscious of the volition, she sank
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 57 
 
 upon her knees, and pressing her forehead 
 against the window she prayed : 
 
 "Oh, God ! the Father of the motherless 
 and the Counsellor of the friendless, teach 
 me the way I should go, the thing I 
 should do. Oh, mother ! my sainted mother, 
 if it be possible for thee to hear me, come 
 to me now and help me to decide. Breathe 
 in my soul the words I should speak, and 
 move me to do that which is best to be 
 done." 
 
 For nearly five minutes she knelt thus, 
 helplessly praying for light and for guidance, 
 but no divine message came ; no saintly 
 whisper of duty ; and then she arose, de- 
 spairingly, perplexed as ever ; but casting 
 her eyes around, as if in a further dim 
 groping in the dark for an oracle. By 
 chance or was it by fate ? her glance fell 
 upon her Bible, the precious book that had 
 been her mother's, and, with a little gasp, 
 she seized the book. 
 
 "Ah! it is written. I shall find my 
 duty here," she cried, and with that intui- 
 tive reaching out into the mysteries of the 
 unknown, which, unconsciously to us all, 
 guides every human hand, she opened and 
 read : 
 
 " 'And when the servants of David were
 
 58 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 come to Abigail to Carmel, they spake unto 
 her saying, David sent us unto thee to take 
 thee to him to wife. And she arose and 
 bowed herself on her face to the earth, 
 and said : Behold, let thy handmaid be a 
 servant to wash the feet of the servants of 
 my lord. And Abigail hastened and arose, 
 and rode upon an ass, with five damsels of 
 hers that went after her. And she went 
 after the messengers of David and became 
 his wife.'" 
 
 "I wonder," she murmured, as she fin- 
 ished reading it over for the third time. " I 
 wonder if this can be a revelation, or is it 
 but chance chance coincidence, an acci- 
 dental grouping of words and letters 
 David and Abigail, Ah, no, this is more 
 than chance, this is a divination and I shall 
 accept it as the ordination of my destiny," 
 and carefully reading it over again, syllable 
 by syllable and word by word, she rever- 
 ently closed the volume and turned to her 
 letter. 
 
 "Ah!" she said, after reading it over 
 once more, "it is not really cruel, and it 
 may be kind. It is frank and honest, and 
 that is always the best. It would have been 
 so easy for him to have written flattering 
 words and deceived me with heartless pre-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 59 
 
 tensions. I ought to thank him for his 
 candor. And I do thank him; between us 
 there should be no deceit. I should know 
 that he cannot love me now, for he has 
 never seen me; he would not even recognize 
 me were we to chance to meet on the street. 
 Ah, me ! I wonder if he wonders how I look ? 
 I hope he thinks me ugly, I should so like 
 to surprise him, he is so handsome himself," 
 and fully conscious of a rare womanly 
 beauty in herself, of manner, of figure, and 
 of face, she cast an admiring glance at her 
 own lovely self in the mirror. "Ah !" she 
 went on, smiling approval at the radiant 
 reflection, " Ah, David and Abigail, I must 
 study the story of their lives and see if 
 they were happy. What wonderful stories 
 are to be found in the Bible, and how much 
 like a Biblical story is the beginning of 
 this, for David did not court Abigail, he 
 simply sent his servants for her to Carmel. 
 And what is it he says ? the new David, my 
 David ? Ah ! here it is, " referring to the 
 letter once again. " ' When I come to know 
 you I may possibly learn to love you.' 
 Oh, what a sweet possibility, and, oh, how 
 I shall strive to teach him! I wish he had 
 written nothing else but this, no other 
 sentence, no other line. But these shall be
 
 60 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 all I shall remember, ' I may learn to love 
 you.' To love you ah ! to love you, to 
 love you! Ah! that is enough, a hundred 
 pages could not have added to its fullness ; 
 a poem in one line, a whole world of happy 
 possibilities epitomized into one little 
 'when." And cooingly repeating, "David 
 and Abigail ; to love you to love you, " 
 she tenderly folded it away to hide it in 
 the most sacred of her sacred repositories. 
 
 And then, when she had locked her treas- 
 ure away, there came a wish to answer 
 it, a desire to say something on her 
 own part, and in her own behalf ; to 
 let him feel, or at least know, that 
 cold, hard, and mercenary as this most 
 extraordinary proceeding might seem to 
 others, she, at least, was guiltless of a 
 single sordid thought ; that she could hope 
 to find in it all a something higher, purer, 
 and sweeter than any suggestion of worldly 
 gain, or of worldly ambition. 
 
 And thus moved she wrote : 
 
 " MY DEAR MK. WIXSTOX : Your note of this instant 
 was handed to me by my father, and though no answer 
 may be expected, I find myself constrained by the wish to 
 write. I cannot tell you the pain and humiliation its 
 perusal cost me at first, but after a moment's reflection I 
 realized my unhappy position ; and, while shrinking from 
 your coldness, I must yet thank you for your candor. I
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 61 
 
 should regret to know that any distraint on the part of your 
 father, or constraint on the part of my own, should impel 
 you to take a step so momentous. If there really be such, 
 I beg you to consider this matter ended at once, as I cannot 
 become a party to such a sin against an ordinance so sacred. 
 If, however, for other considerations (mercenary, if you 
 please) you are willing to place the honor of your name and 
 the happiness of your life in my keeping, it shall be the 
 proudest aim of my life to maintain inviolate the one, and 
 its sweetest endeavor to perfect the other. I shall be ready 
 to meet you to-morrow and very happy to welcome you, 
 but I shall not despise you if you do not come. If you 
 should come, may I venture to request the presence of your 
 sister, Miss Winston ? I should wish so much to know 
 her. I should write direct to her myself but am uncertain 
 of her grace ; and then, if I am really to be your wife, I 
 must prefer that whatever of gladness, of pleasurable asso- 
 ciations the future holds in store for me, should come all 
 through you. 
 
 " With feeling quite the reverse of cold regard, I must sub- 
 scribe myself, and shall ever remain, your sincere friend and 
 well-wisher, 
 
 " GBACE A. HARDIE. 
 
 " October 20th." 
 
 Having carefully enveloped and sealed it, 
 she carried it down to dispatch it. 
 
 " Here, Sam, is a letter for Mr. Winston, 
 the young lawyer. I wish you to take it 
 yourself, to be sure of its safe delivery. 
 Take it to his office and leave it with his 
 man. You know the place, 124 Winston 
 Street?" 
 
 "Yes'm, I knows."
 
 62 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Very well. Here is a dollar for his 
 man. Tell him to be sure and hand the let- 
 ter to his master the very first thing he does 
 after he comes." 
 
 "Yes'm," and off posted Sam, while 
 she turned to her father. 
 
 "Well, Abby, what's he say ?" asked the 
 old man, in anxious sympathy with the 
 thoughtful shade on his daughter's brow. 
 
 "He says but little. A simple business 
 letter ; only, father, there is one expression 
 which troubles me. "He speaks of the dis- 
 traint of his father, as if by some secret 
 power, or unfair advantage you had over 
 him, you are compelling him to this step. 
 Is this so, father ? " 
 
 "I don't know, hunny, what it iz you 
 means by destraints, 'less'en it's that the ole 
 Jedge iz busted, which he iz for a fac' ; but 
 I didn't bust 'im an' I holes no secret power 
 over 'im." 
 
 "And it is to get you to help his father 
 that his son agrees to marry me ? " 
 
 "Well er yes. When yer comes ter bile 
 hit down, that's about the size ov it. Hit's 
 thest as I tole ye, yisterdy, only a little 
 more so ; wusser, I means. You sees the 
 Jedge, asides the tuther things he owes, was 
 guardeen for the Garden gurrill, Tom's wife,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 63 
 
 an' he has spent all her money an' now he's 
 got ter anty up, he can't raise the stake." 
 
 " But can't you help him without this 
 this bargain of of me ? " 
 
 " Well er yes, I 'spoze I kin. I can thes 
 give 'im the money, make 'im a Christmus 
 present ov hit, but that wouldn't be bizness. 
 I'd be a fool ter off er hit an' he'd be a dinged 
 rogue ter take hit ; but he ain't that sort ov a 
 man, he's a honerable man, the Jedge is, I 
 don't care if he did slip up an' busted. An' 
 so is his son David, he's the honerablest ov 
 the two, an' they both iz honerable. An' 
 asides that, I hain't no fool nuther. So the 
 bestest way for us all ter do is ter thest 
 hitch you two young colts together an' 
 then hit will all be in the fambly. An' 
 he sees it too, David do, though he kicked 
 like a mule in a yaller-jackit's nest at fust. 
 You see, Abby, they's a big fambly, the 
 Winstons be, the biggest an' the grandest in 
 all creation regular blue-bluds away back 
 yonder from ole Ferginny ; the Pokerhun- 
 ters, an' the Fairfaxes, an' the Marthy 
 Washingtons an' all the tuther big bugs as 
 we read about, an' they's monstus proud ov 
 thar breed, an' it liked ter sallivated 'im, 
 the idee ov marryin' you, one ov the pegbot- 
 toms. They's silk-sowed pumpsoles, they is,
 
 64 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 an we'uns is only yaller pegbottoms. They 
 sort, yer know, kinder looks down on our 
 sort." 
 
 "Ah! yes, I know. But have they just 
 cause ? Tell me, father, the truth, is there 
 any reason why I, as your child, should be 
 despised ? Ip there any reproach upon your 
 name, or life, or character, or upon my 
 mother's, that would cause David Winston 
 to blush to own me as his wife ? If so, tell 
 me now that the pain of learning may be 
 spared me hereafter, when it may be too 
 late." 
 
 " No, Abby, thar's nuthin' that no 'onnest 
 man orter be 'shamed ov, 'cept in that I waz 
 homed a poor man an had ter wiggle my 
 way up from the bottom ; I don't know as I 
 ever done a right real low down thing in my 
 life. I never hurt any man, nor 'umman 
 nuther ; I never cheated even a nigger 
 outen a picayune ; I've made money, that's 
 a fac', thes oodles ov it, but if I ever toted 
 a dishonest dollar in my pockit, I hopes ter 
 goodness that hit will take the dry rot an' 
 that all the rest 'ill catch it an' crumble 
 away into devil's-snuff . Hit's true, too, that 
 I yused ter bet a little on the hoss-races, but I 
 allers won, an' when I belt a good hand in a 
 game ov poker I warn't easily bluffed, but I
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 65 
 
 never cheated, uor renigged in my life. An' 
 as fer your mammy, hunny, God bless her 
 sweet heart, thar'wurn't a purer nor a truer, 
 nor a better 'umman in all the old thirteen 
 states than waz your mammy. Yes, nor a 
 truer lady, I don't care zif she waz borned 
 in a log cabbin an' had ter ride a mule ter 
 mill when she waz a gurrill. No, Grace, 
 thar hain't enny thing wrong about you, 
 an' you needn't be afeered ter face a camp- 
 meetin', in the broadest daylight that ever 
 shined." 
 
 The girl, with a flush of genuine pride, 
 kissed her father. 
 
 "There," she said, "you have made me 
 very happy ; happy and proud, and there 
 can be no derogation to him, nor his family 
 in marrying me ? " 
 
 "No ! in course thar can't. Hit 'ill be the 
 makin' ov 'im and the savin' ov them. But 
 as I said afore, hit wuz a bitter pill an' it 
 made 'em gag ; thay is so proud, you know, 
 an looks on us pegbottoms sorter like we 
 looks on a passel ov free-niggers. But 
 David is a chap ov mighty good sense, an' 
 has plenty ov grit, an' he soon seed as how 
 hit was no yuse ter kick again the double- 
 tree. The ole Jedge was kerflumixed an' 
 
 that fixed 'im." 
 5
 
 66 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " I am very sorry." 
 
 "No, I don't know as it much matters. 
 When big folks makes ducks an' drakes -ov 
 thar money, thay must expect thay children 
 ter have ter paddle in the mud ter fine the 
 aiges. But, now, darlin', I've got ter be a 
 stirrin' an' you'd a -better be beginning ter 
 fixin' up your weddin' trix, you hain't got 
 much time ter fix in, but I wants you ter 
 be thest as fine az a queen. I'll sen' Mr. 
 Snooks over ter see 'bout fixin' the furni- 
 ture, an' I'll send Galceran, an' you kin tell 
 'im how you wants the flowers. Stuffragen 
 will see 'bout the cakes an' Sealy can baste 
 the meats, and when Sam gits back tell 'im 
 ter see 'bout fixin' up the niggers. I wants 
 ever'thing ter be thest as fine as if hit was 
 the guvner's darter as was a gwine ter be 
 married." And tenderly kissing his daugh- 
 ter good-bye the old man hurried away 
 to complete the disenthrallment of Judge 
 Winston, from the danger that so perilously 
 threatened him, from his quondam ward. 
 
 It was late in the evening, before David 
 Winston returned to his office and then 
 the tracing by a slender thread, winding 
 through a labyrinth of uncertain records, 
 an uncertain paragraph made in an un- 
 certain speech by his adversary on an un-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 67 
 
 certain occasion, occupied all his thoughts 
 until long after midnight, and then, utterly 
 exhausted by the long day's work he went 
 to bed, and it was not until ten o'clock the 
 next morning, after he had washed the 
 heavy drowsiness from his eyes, that he 
 found Miss Hardie's letter, not in his office, 
 but lying on his dressing-case, where it had 
 been slyly placed but the moment before, by 
 the careful hand of Jake, who while still 
 jingling the young lady's gratuity in his 
 pocket had entirely forgotten to deliver it 
 the evening before. 
 
 " Ah ! what is this ? ' David R. Winston, 
 Esq., En Ville,'" reading the superscription. 
 " An invitation to Mrs. Bullwinkle's fete 
 musicale ? Ah ! I am getting too old for 
 such airy dissipations, charming though 
 they always must be," he continued, toss- 
 ing it aside unopened. 
 
 " Ziff you please, Marse David, dat'san 'ote 
 wat de Hardie nigger fetched. He sed hit 
 waz frum hiz young mistus, old Hardie's 
 gal," cautioned Jake. 
 
 " Oh ! the devil ! when did he bring it ? " 
 retouching it with a shiver of disgust. 
 
 " Thes now, sah ! Thes dis berry minit, 
 an' he waz in a monstus big hurry, an' toled 
 me ter wake you up an' give hit ter you
 
 68 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 rite away. I wuz thes a fixin' ter ban' it ter 
 you, soon's yer got dressed." 
 
 The young man opened, and half cu- 
 riously, half critically, read Miss Hardie's 
 letter. 
 
 " Ah ! this is a fairly written letter ; the 
 chirography is beautiful, thanks to the 
 cleverness of her amanuensis. What a 
 clever writer he or maybe it's a she must 
 be. I wonder if he, or she, is to be thrown in 
 with the gold and negroes ? Let me see. A 
 pound of gold for every pound of girl, and a 
 nigger or two for every pound of each. 
 What a magnificent dower, and what a fort- 
 unate dog I am ! Jake ! do you know that 
 I am to be married to-day ? " 
 
 Jake tried to look wise, but the astonished 
 whites of his eyes betrayed him. 
 
 " Yes, sah, I knowed hit. But iz yer, fer a 
 fac'?" 
 
 "No ! not for a fact, but for a lie ; a 
 miserable, debasing, mercenary lie. Yes : I 
 am to be married at 10:30 sharp, and it's ten 
 now. I haven't even time for breakfast. 
 You should have waked me sooner. Here ; 
 you had better get me another coat, and a 
 white vest ; my best dress-suit a man 
 should be decently dressed even though he 
 is to be hanged. But, no ; never mind, I
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 69 
 
 would have to shave, and I haven't time for 
 that ; this will have to do to mount the block 
 in. Jake ! were you ever sold ? " 
 
 "Oh, no, sah ; I wuz borned an' raised 
 by ole marster. I'm a thoroughbred Wins- 
 ton. Your mammy, she had me." 
 
 " Ah ! happy Jake, never to have been 
 sold and never to have felt the shame of it ! 
 Here, tie my cravat. Do you know that I 
 have been sold ? " 
 
 "Oh ! no, sah ! Izyer ?" 
 
 "Yes, sold. Old Israel Hardie has 
 bought me. You know old Hardie ? " 
 
 "Now, Marse Dave, yer is thes a pro- 
 jeckin' wid me ? Wy ! all we niggers think 
 we seffs above dat set. Dey's buckra frum 
 de jump go." 
 
 "Yes, I know, but it is true, nevertheless. 
 Ah ! 
 
 " 'True, tis pity, and pity 'tis 'tis true ! ' 
 
 He has bought me for his daughter." 
 
 "Now, Marse Dave." 
 
 "Yes ; indeed it is so." 
 
 " What fur she wants you ? " 
 
 "Oh, she wants me for an ornament. 
 She's tired of her poodle and wants me for a 
 monkey. To drive me around in her car- 
 riage, to take me to balls and to picnics,
 
 70 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 and to exhibit me generally, just to let folks 
 see what a fool money can make of an ill- 
 born woman, and what a hound it can make 
 of an impecunious man. You have heard 
 the story, Jake, of the apples in the horse 
 pond?" 
 
 "Yes, sah." Jake was wondrous wise 
 and had heard everything that his young 
 master could possibly suggest. 
 
 "Well, she wants me for her apple, to 
 give credit to the puddle. " 
 
 "Well, well, sah ; Marse David, zif ye 
 didn't look so sober 
 
 " You would think me drunk ? " 
 
 "No, sah ; but I'd tink dat youze thes a 
 foolin' me." 
 
 "No, it is so, Jake, I assure you. I have 
 been sold, and paid for." 
 
 " How much you fotch ?" 
 
 "Oh, a fancy price, you may be sure. 
 Much more than I would be willing to give 
 for myself now. But there, that will do," 
 as Jake finished a vigorous brushing of his 
 back and legs, "hand me my hat and 
 gloves, and tell Dick to fetch the buggy 
 around. I told him to harness Nip and Tuck 
 as we will have hard driving to-day." 
 
 Jake hurried away, sorely puzzled to 
 make out. his master's meaning" 'spe-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 71 
 
 cially dat apple bizness," while the young 
 gentleman drew on his gloves and with a 
 sickly smile at himself in the mirror he 
 turned from the room. 
 
 " She asked me to invite my sister. Ah ! I 
 wonder if she could possibly imagine what 
 a humiliating thing it is she asks of me ! 
 But I will see Gussie and tell her ; I will 
 have to learn to face my degradation, and I 
 had as well begin at once. Where is your 
 mistress ? " he asked of her maid, as he met 
 her in the hall. 
 
 " She's in her room, sah, thest a cuttin' 
 up." 
 
 " Go tell her to please come, I wish to see 
 her a moment." 
 
 " Oh, Gussie, you are crying ! Father 
 has told you, then ? " he asked, as his sister 
 came in, in hysterical sobs. . 
 
 " Oh, my brother ! how could you do such 
 a miserable thing ? " she cried, sinking on a 
 chair. 
 
 "You must not cry, Gussie, I could not 
 help it. A hard fate has forced it upon us, 
 for it is for you, my sister, and for my 
 father, that I do this thing. If father has 
 told you, it is of no use to go over the 
 wretched story again. I only wanted to tell 
 you that I have a note from Miss Hardie
 
 72 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 and she offers her compliments to you, and 
 would be glad for you to be present. Will 
 you go, sister ? " 
 
 "If it was to your funeral I might, per- 
 haps, find heart to go, but not to this. You 
 should not ask me." 
 
 "Ah, well! I am sorry, but I do not 
 blame you ; only you must not be too hard 
 on me. There is Dick with the buggy, and 
 I must be going ; I am already late. By- 
 bye," and stooping and tenderly kissing the 
 weeping face, he hurried out and away. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE WE D D I N G . 
 
 THE great Janus- faced clock in the Capitol 
 tower had struck the half-hour, and the 
 dainty little cuckoo clock on the drawing- 
 room mantle had verified the count, while 
 the silent fingers of the tall, old-fashioned, 
 pendulum clock in the dining-room were 
 pointing to the figures 10:30, when the 
 spanking team of David Winston, urged to 
 a two-thirty trot, came dashing around the 
 corner, and in an instant more was brought
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 73 
 
 to a stand before the high-arched gate of 
 570, Colbert Avenue. 
 
 Handing the reins to Dick, the belated 
 groom lightly sprang to the ground and 
 hurried in, with a lugubrious look on his 
 face, as if it was into a dentist's office he 
 was plunging to have an excruciating molar 
 extracted. All things were ready, and a 
 little anxiously waiting. His father had 
 preceded him, and had been there some 
 time, silently sitting in a confused wonder 
 at the surprising magnificence of the room. 
 The Eeverend Mr. Davenport, in canonical 
 robes, was there, complacently solemn, while 
 the old gentleman, effusive in politeness, 
 was for the first time in his life positively 
 fidgety in the exuberance of expectancy. 
 
 "Ah ! thar he is now ; fetch 'im in, Sam," 
 he exclaimed, as the hurried knock on the 
 door came sounding through the hall. 
 
 Sam, with the-dignity of the Queen's Cham- 
 berlain, responded to the knock, and hardly 
 before the echoes of the alarm had died from 
 the hall the door was opened and the groom 
 was ushered in. 
 
 " Ah-ha ! thest in time ter the secund. 
 That's bizness," cried the old gentleman, 
 fairly crushing his fingers in the spontaneity 
 of his welcome.
 
 74 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " Thanks ouche ah ! excuse me, I was 
 so busy last night that I overslept myself, 
 and feared that I should have to apologize for 
 being late," wrenching his aching fingers 
 from the friendly grasp. 
 
 " No, yu'ze thest in time, as punctal az the 
 bank hitself, an' ever'thing else is reddy 
 cocked an' primed. The Jedge is yere an' 
 kin tell you that ever'thing hez been set- 
 tled, fair an' square atwixt us, an' I've paid 
 off Tom's wife, ever' blamed cent ov it, an' 
 the passin is yere with the lisenzes, an' 
 Abby's got her trix on an' iz a waitin'. Yer 
 'ill fine her in her little drawin'-roorn acrost 
 thar ; Nanny 'ill show you," and giving the 
 half-scared young man a shove, that nearly 
 upset his equilibrium, in the direction of his 
 daughter's boudoir, and motioning Nanny 
 to conduct him to the bride expectant, he 
 turned to his factotum : " Sam, call 'em 
 all in now ; thay wants ter see thay young 
 mistus married." 
 
 Sam had only to open a side door, when 
 they came pouring in ; such a rush, of black, 
 slick-faced, spread -mouthed, smartly-dressed 
 negroes as threatened to deluge the spacious 
 room. Sam, however, had had them trained, 
 and decorously they took their places, form- 
 ing a semicircle around the little dais which
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 75 
 
 had been raised, and over which hung an 
 enormous bell of snowy roses. 
 
 The notice had been short, but everything 
 had been arranged in graceful as well as 
 tasteful completeness. 
 
 " Yere, Miss Grace, I'ze fetched 'im," said 
 Nanny, ushering the passive groom into the 
 radiant presence of the blushing young lady. 
 
 Never before, in all his life had young 
 Winston been oppressed with such a humil- 
 iating sense of his own unworthiness, such 
 an overwhelming consciousness of moral 
 meanness and moral degradation, as he did 
 that moment when he stepped into the sacred 
 presence of the woman he had so reviled. 
 Too much abashed to look once in the lovely 
 face, he had only time to note the queenly 
 presence and lissome grace of motion with 
 which she rose to meet him. With an awk- 
 ward groping he offered his hand, for- 
 getting in his humiliating aberration to 
 remove his stiff riding gauntlets. 
 
 Gracious as a queen she placed her own 
 soft, fair Jiand in his. The gentle touch 
 recalled him, and dropping her hand he 
 quickly drew off the impeding glove. 
 
 "I fear that I have kept you waiting," 
 he apologized, this time bowing respectfully 
 and tenderly reaching for her hand.
 
 76 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " Oh, no, sir ! Had you not come, at all, 
 I should not have been greatly disappointed. 
 I was not quite certain that you would 
 come," she answered, and he had to wonder 
 at the marvelous sweetness of her voice. 
 
 "And you would not have cared ? " 
 
 " I may not say that ; but I could not, at 
 least, have blamed you." 
 
 "No? It would have been more manly 
 in me not to have come. But I must ex- 
 plain ; I did not read your letter until this 
 morning ; not twenty minutes ago," he said, 
 apologetically. 
 
 " And had you received it in time, would 
 it have changed your purpose ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, no. My purpose is not so easily 
 changed. I fear that you will find it more 
 obstinate than otherwise, and I am here to 
 
 consummate the the tra 1 mean the 
 
 arrangement agreed upon with your father. 
 If you are quite ready, and will pardon my 
 unseemly hurry, we. will proceed at once 
 with the ceremony. I believe that I ex- 
 plained the urgent pressure that is upon my 
 time ? " 
 
 " Yes, I understand, and I am quite 
 ready. " 
 
 Drawing her hand through his arm, he 
 led her in, to take their stand under the
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 77 
 
 roses and to kneel on the velvet-cushioned 
 dais. 
 
 The ceremony was the beautiful but 
 solemn one prescribed by the Episcopal 
 liturgy, and it proceeded without untoward 
 incident, until the minister paused and 
 looked to the groom for the ring. David 
 looked blank and stammered something 
 inaudible ; Abigail blushed, more rosy, 
 more lovely than ever, and an awkward 
 hitch was imminent ; the ring had been for- 
 gotten. Judge Winston realized the laches, 
 and was the first to act. Slipping a heavy 
 cameo from his finger, he moved to offer it, 
 when her father, with a sudden dive in the 
 capacious pocket of his breeches, drew out a 
 weather-beaten buckskin purse : 
 
 " Hold on don't, Jedge ; just hole' yer 
 tater a minit, passin ! I've got the very 
 trick," he cried, fishing out a bit of faded 
 blue flannel, the unwinding of which 
 brought to light a thin, well-worn, gold 
 ring, hardly thicker than a thread. " Yere, 
 hunny ; yere's the ring ; hit wuz yer 
 mammy's weddin' ring, an' I've saved hit 
 fer you. Ware it, darlin', an' when you 
 gits mad with David, thes look on hit an' 
 think ov her, afore you begins ter scold." 
 
 The young man took the ring, a poor,
 
 78 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 miserable, little excuse for a ring, and as if 
 impelled by a magic touch, reverently kissed 
 it, and then handed it to the minister and 
 the ceremony went on, all the more impress- 
 ive, perhaps, because of this little interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 The Judge was the first to offer congratu- 
 lations. Wringing his son's hand in a kind 
 of contrite enthusiasm, he murmured : 
 
 "May the good God bless you, my son ; 
 bless you and yours ; " and then drawing 
 the blushing bride to his breast, he kissed 
 her. "And you,- my daughter, my heart 
 blesses you, too ; may His love keep you and 
 bless you always." 
 
 "Your blessing is very precious to me, 
 sir," she answered sweetly, and then, like 
 an Amazonian charge, the negroes made a 
 dash upon her ; first her good old nurse, 
 Mammy Lucy, with a screech that startled 
 the Judge, bounded forward, and pounced 
 upon her. Catching her in her arms, she 
 commenced a frantic pounding over the 
 shoulders, crying between sobs : 
 
 " Oh, my darlin' young mistus : my 
 hunny chile ; my precious baby, wat I'ze 
 suckled myseff a millyun times, an' rocked 
 you ter sleep a hundred more ; oh, you'ze 
 de sweetest, bestest, an' purtiest young mis-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 79 
 
 tus as wuz never married befoh in all my 
 born days ! Oh, my chile, I'ze so glad dat 
 I'ze libbed ter see dis day ! " 
 
 u Go 'long, Maum Lucy, an quit yer pro- 
 gicken, an' giff me a chance. Do'an yer see 
 dat yer'ze a knockin' de breff outen de chile, 
 an a spilein' all de laces an' de ribbons on 
 her buzzom, wid yer slobberin' ? ." interrupted 
 Aunt Sealy ; tearing the other aside, and 
 laying a still more boisterous affection upon 
 the victim. "Yu'ze my chile, too, hain't 
 yer, hunny ? " 
 
 And then the others, one by one, with a 
 tear and a blessing for the darling "young 
 mistus ; " interrupted at last, by the 
 master : 
 
 " Come, folkses, we all know that David 
 hes ter go ; his time's nearly up, now, but I 
 reckon that we'll have time ter eat a snack, 
 an' ter drink a health to the young ones ; so 
 come rite along ter the dining-room, an' 
 let's jollify. Come, David, I'll 'scort you 
 an' the passin, an' the Jedge kin fetch 
 Abby," and seizing an arm of each, he 
 hurried them into the dining-hall, where a 
 most tempting collation of fruits, cakes and 
 cold meats was spread, to be eaten stand- 
 ing. 
 
 Judge Winston, still wondering at the
 
 80 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 surprising beauty and charm of the bride, 
 offered his arm, with the most cavalier and 
 courtly grace he could command, and led her 
 after. 
 
 "Now, my friends, these fixin's waz got 
 ter eat an' ter drink, so you kin thest roll up 
 your sleeves an' pitch in," cried the old gen- 
 tleman, in hearty hospitality. "Come, 
 passin, lay holt, an' you too, David, thes 
 sail in. We didn't fix any regular dinner, 
 caze hit warn't the reg'lar dinner-time, ye 
 know ; but as Abby thought as how may be 
 as you had ter drive so fur that you mout 
 get hongry afore you got a whack at any, 
 she 'lowed as we'd have a little cole snack ter 
 sorter stay yer stummick like ; so thest pull 
 off an' wade in." 
 
 " Thanks, and as I haven't yet breakfasted, 
 it is a lucky providence to me." 
 
 "What's that yer say? Hain't had no 
 breakfust ? Abby, d'ye hear that ? This 
 young man sez he hain't had any breakfust 
 ter-day." 
 
 "Oh, I am sorry that I did not know, 
 that I might have ordered something warm. 
 It is not yet too late. I can have it still. 
 It will only take a moment. Sam, tell Aunt 
 Sealey to have some coffee and eggs and 
 toast, in an instant," cried the young mis-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 81 
 
 tress, dropping the Judge's arm in a little 
 dismay and turning to look after her hus- 
 band's comfort. 
 
 "Oh, no; not on my account. By no 
 means. My sluggishness deserves a punish- 
 ment. And besides, this spread is ample. 
 I could wish no better," he protested, feeling 
 a slight compunction for the wifely solici- 
 tude so needlessly wasted on himself. 
 
 " No ; I insist upon it ; you must have a 
 warm breakfast, if it is only an egg and 
 coffee. Here, take a seat at this table. 
 The gentlemen will excuse you. And here 
 is a basket of fruit as a relish," and with an 
 irresistible insistence she drew him to a table, 
 forced him to be seated and helped him to 
 the fruit. 
 
 " Thanks. This is much better than I 
 deserve. Will you be seated too ? " f astening 
 upon a delicious orange. 
 
 "Not until you are served. Ah! here is 
 the coffee," as Sam the veritable slave 
 of the wonderful lamp came in, followed 
 closely by a waiter with steaming coffee, 
 delicious cream, smoking eggs, and by rare 
 good luck, a cut of the most delicious ten- 
 derloin the epicurean taste of the young 
 gentleman had ever tested. 
 
 Deftly she drew the coffee and arranged 
 6
 
 82 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 the viands, and then with a sweetness that 
 touched even him, she said : 
 
 1 ' And now, sir, if you will help yourself 
 and will excuse me, I will return to our 
 guests ? " 
 
 "Certainly. My appetite needs no coach- 
 ing. I am positively ravenous," he an- 
 swered, falling to with a zest that confirmed 
 the averment, while she turned to the others, 
 where the inroads already made upon the 
 buffet told that robust health needed no 
 ceremony. 
 
 His breakfast finished, the young gen- 
 tleman rejoined the others at the sideboard, 
 when the old gentleman said : 
 
 u Now, Sam, you'd better begin a poppin' 
 ov the corks. " 
 
 Sam was an expert with the corkscrew, 
 and soon the delightful aroma of champagne 
 was filling the room. 
 
 ' ' An' now, chilluns ; you must drink each 
 other's health. Yere's a glass," filling a 
 goblet and handing it to the groom ; 
 ' ' Drink ye both ov it. Drink ter one anuther 
 an' ter ter yer yerfambly." 
 
 The young man took it, a little ungra- 
 ciously and handed it to the bride. She 
 placed it to her lips, kissed the foaming 
 brim and handed it back to him. With a
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 83 
 
 strange perversity, for which he despised 
 himself the next moment, he seized it, 
 almost rudely, and holding it a second, as if 
 tempted to dash it in the old man's face, he 
 raised it to his wide-opened mouth and 
 gulped it down, as if it had been a cup of 
 hemlock, at a single swallow. 
 
 The young lady noticed the strange dis- 
 courtesy and it cut her. Judge Winston 
 also noticed it, as he noticed the hurt look 
 that came in her eyes, and with a strangely 
 tender yearning in his heart, he turned to 
 her. 
 
 " My daughter," he said, filling a glass and 
 offering it to her, " I must beg you to conse- 
 crate a cup for me. Will you touch it with 
 your lips that I may drink to your happiness, 
 both in this world and in the world to 
 come 2 " 
 
 She took it and reverently kissed the 
 sparkling lip, while an unbidden tear 
 dropped in the amber tide. With a blush 
 she turned to throw it aside, and to fill an- 
 other, when the gallant gentleman inter- 
 fered. 
 
 "No, no," snatching it from her. "It is 
 hallowed now. The pearls of Cleopatra 
 could not made it so precious as this. And 
 now, my daughter, here is a health to you :
 
 84 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 If the graces of mind and heart can ap- 
 proach the exquisite loveliness of form and 
 face, thy life must stand as a pattern for the 
 angels to walk by." 
 
 "You are very good, sir, to think so 
 kindly of me," she answered simply. 
 
 And then the rector, full of good cheer 
 and bubbling over with kindness, struck 
 in : 
 
 "As the rector of Mrs. Winston, I must 
 be permitted to respond to your very appro- 
 priate sentiment. I have known her from 
 childhood ; indeed, I may say from infancy. 
 Her sainted mother placed her in my arms 
 to be christened ; I stood by the bishop, 
 when he laid his reverend hands upon her 
 devout head, I have watched her as she grew 
 into lovely womanhood, the petted darling 
 of a luxuriant home, and the mistress of 
 everything that wealth could buy, and 
 though the angels may not look to human 
 excellence for a pattern, I can say that, in 
 all these years, I have never known her to 
 give utterance to a single thought, or do a 
 single deed that an angel itself might blush 
 to have done. And you, my young friend," 
 turning to the young husband, "should 
 never suffer the sun to go down without 
 falling upon your knees and thanking your
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 85 
 
 God, for giving you such a wife ; the sweet- 
 est and best gift of His providence." 
 
 The young man hesitated a moment, and 
 then, constrained by a sense of politeness, 
 said : 
 
 " In behalf of the lady, I must thank you 
 for the very pretty tribute you have paid to 
 her moral worth, and you, too, my father, for 
 your gallant compliment to her personal 
 charms. You are both very kind, and I am 
 sure she is not ungrateful. But before I 
 can appropriate to myself so much moral 
 and personal excellence, I must first try to 
 make myself worthy of it. And now, I re- 
 gret very much to have to interrupt, so far 
 as my going may do so, the festivities of 
 this occasion ; but I suppose that you are all 
 aware of the exigencies of my canvass, and 
 can therefore excuse my going. It is now 
 past eleven o'clock, and I have to be at 
 Philippi, twenty miles away, at one." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! bizness is bizness, an' we all 
 understand. Thes you go rite erlong. 
 Bizness afore pleasure, as the feller said 
 when he thrashed his wife afore he kissed 'er. 
 Abby knows, an' she kin wait ; can't yer, 
 Abby?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! You must on no account neg- 
 lect your interest for me. You are looking
 
 86 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 for your gloves, sir ? I think you dropped 
 them in my boudoir. Nanny, go fetch Mr. 
 Winston's gloves," she ordered, noting the 
 nervous searching of pockets and beating of 
 breast, in quest of the unlucky gloves. In 
 a minute Nanny returned with the gaunt- 
 lets, and drawing them on he said : 
 
 "Thanks! And now I must say good- 
 bye." 
 
 " I will walk with you to the door," slip- 
 ping her hand through his arm, "I shall 
 expect to hear a good report from Philippi," 
 this as they passed into the hall. 
 
 "I shall do my best. In truth, I have to 
 do my utmost. I find that I have taken a 
 Herculean task upon myself." 
 
 "Is the political stable so much dirtier 
 than you thought ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is not the stable ! I have not the 
 temerity to undertake that. No, it is one 
 of the Golden 'Apples,' I have rashly essayed 
 to pluck, but I find them more difficult to 
 reach than I thought. Lawson claims them 
 as his own, and I fear that I shall need an 
 Atlas to ever get one." 
 
 "I wish I could be the Atlas, or else one 
 of the Hesperides, I think I could steal one 
 for you. I wish so much to help you. If 
 my good wishes can avail, you have them,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 87 
 
 most assuredly. I shall be so proud of your 
 success. " 
 
 ' l Thanks. You are very good. " 
 "When when may I expect to see see, 
 you again ? " she asked a little stammer- 
 ingly. 
 
 "I can hardly tell you. You must not 
 think me discourteous ; but the fact is, I 
 have an appointment to meet every day 
 until the election, next month, and each 
 appointment carries me farther away. We 
 speak to day at Philippi, and to-morrow at 
 Grafton, twenty miles beyond, so there is 
 slight chance of my being in the city again 
 until the campaign is finished. The pro- 
 gram," he added, dimly feeling that some- 
 thing further in the way of an apology was 
 needed, " was all arranged, before this 
 this 'bizness,' as your father so bluntly calls 
 it, was even thought of, and I may not hope 
 to change it. My adversary is an adroit 
 trickster and would be swift to take advan- 
 tage of any laches on my part. The Ameri- 
 can Sovereign is more coy than the Ameri- 
 can maiden, and one has to woo more per- 
 sistently to win. He permits no division, 
 nor diversion of attentions during the can- 
 vass, or courtship, rather. As you have 
 graciously dispensed with my devoirs so far,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 I must trust you to still further indulge me 
 until the more exacting sovereign is wooed 
 and won." 
 
 "Certainly, sir, I shall not expect any 
 attention that it may inconvenience you to 
 give. I wish you success in your wooing 
 and I may further trust that you will find 
 more satisfaction in the winning than you 
 have found in this. I will not keep you 
 longer. Good-bye, sir," offering her hand. 
 
 They were now at the door ; there was no 
 one in the hall and there could have been no 
 possible offense against prudery for him to 
 have taken a kiss. Surely had he known 
 the sweetness of the lips that were so gra- 
 ciously ready to give one, he would not have 
 turned away with such a bitter sneer on his 
 own, nor with such a demon of shame, 
 hatred and pain gnawing at his heart. 
 
 "Good-bye." And an indifferent shake 
 of the timorous little hand was all that he 
 gave. 
 
 She stood at the door and looked after 
 him that tall, handsome young man, the 
 husband who had not yet looked into the 
 glorious beauty of her face, the wondrous 
 depths of her eyes, until he had lashed his 
 spirited horses around the corner and was 
 whisked out of sight, and then, waiting only
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 89 
 
 a little moment to wipe away all suspicion 
 of tears from her eyes, she went back to 
 her guests. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FAIR BRIDE. 
 
 JUDGE WINSTON uneasily felt that an un- 
 necessary pain had been inflicted upon that 
 innocent girl, and he was almost obse- 
 quiously tender in his manner, as he led her 
 back into the parlor. 
 
 " I am sorry," he said, whisperingly, as 
 if half to himself. "I mean," he added, 
 noting the puzzled look of inquiry in her 
 face, ' ' I am very sorry that we did not know 
 you better before. " 
 
 "Or else not known me at all?" she 
 asked, without acerbity, but in respectful 
 earnestness. 
 
 "Oh, no! lam truly glad that this has 
 all come about. I feel that you are to be a 
 new gladness in my life ; that you are to 
 bring joy to my home and peace to my life. 
 I only meant, by being sorry, that we have 
 been very unjust to you ; that we have 
 sadly misjudged you. I can only express
 
 90 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 my sorrow and hope that we can make 
 amends."' 
 
 "Yes, I know that I have been despised 
 as an interloper, for society is unjust as 
 well as merciless. But if I may only hope 
 to gain his confidence, to win his love, it 
 will more than compensate. Oh ! sir, can 
 you tell me what it is I can do to draw him 
 to me ; what witchery I must practice to 
 overcome the repulsion I can read in his 
 face ? " she cried, with a pathetic yearning 
 in her voice. 
 
 "You need do nothing, my child. No 
 witchery is necessary, save the subtle witch- 
 ery of your native sweetness. Only let him 
 see you, as I see you, now, and his heart 
 will open to your sweetness as the flower 
 opens to the warmth of the sun. I am 
 sorry that his other duties take him away 
 from you so soon. I am anxious for him to 
 know you, for to know you will be but to 
 love you," he answered soothingly. 
 
 ' ' You are kind, sir, to think so, and the 
 thought makes me very happy ; he himself 
 was good enough to write that when he 
 comes to know me he' might possibly learn 
 to love me. Ah ! I wonder if he will ever 
 know how fondly I treasure that sweet pos- 
 sibility ?"
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 91 
 
 " He will learn in good time, and with the 
 knowledge will come the love that is so 
 richly your due. And in good time he will 
 also learn to know and to esteem your ex- 
 cellent father. You may not know what a 
 good friend your father has been to me and 
 my son ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know that my father is a friend 
 to you, and that he loves your son almost 
 as he loves me. I am sorry that society 
 raises such a formidable barrier between 
 us." 
 
 "No, not formidable, or at least not 
 impassable. Your father has taught me 
 that manly worth, is above all conventional 
 distinctions ; that a rugged, homely virtue 
 is superior to the most polished of courtly 
 graces ; just as your surprising loveliness, 
 my daughter, has shown me that the per- 
 fection of womanly beauty can be found 
 elsewhere, than in the exclusive homes of 
 the aristocracy. " 
 
 "Now, Abby, give us a chune ; I golly ! if 
 my ole shoulder didn't twitch so bad I'd git 
 my ole fiddle down an' we'd set the Jedge 
 an' the passin a dancing ter that good ole 
 hoe-down : 
 
 " ' 'Possum up a gum stump, raccoon in the holler, 
 Purty gal at our house, fat as she kin woller.'
 
 92 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 Ah ! well I rikolect how ole Jim Goff 
 played that very chune that very night, an' 
 how me an' yer mammy danced hit, the 
 night we war married, I means. No purtier, 
 no sprier dancer ever turned a pardner, nor 
 shook a purtier foot than your mammy. 
 She wore a number two shoe, an' I 
 'members I had ter make a leetle slim last 
 a purpuse ter make her shuze on. They 
 was thest like yourn, Abby. Poke out yer 
 foot an' let the Jedge see hit I lay hits 
 the purtiest foot he ever seed. Eh ? well 
 then, yer needn't mind ; yer needn't turn 
 so red, but come an' give us a chune any- 
 how. Eh, Jedge, do yer like music ? " 
 broke in the old gentleman, warmed by 
 the extra potation in honor of the occa- 
 sion, into a hilarious remembrance of his 
 own happy wedding-day. "The passin 
 yere, is thest hunky on it," he continued, 
 without giving the Judge time to re- 
 spond : ' ' 'specially when Abby sings one 
 ov her ole love songs fer 'im. Eh ! Doctor ? " 
 giving the rector a friendly dig in the ribs 
 with his thumb. 
 
 "Yes, she sings very sweetly, and lam 
 always delighted to hear her," readily as- 
 sented the reverend gentleman. 
 
 "And I too, am passionately fond of
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 93 
 
 music. "Will you sing one of your songs for 
 me ? " asked the Judge. 
 
 "I will be glad if I can please you," she 
 answered simply, as she took her place at 
 the piano. 
 
 The Judge, to prepare himself against an- 
 other surprise, expected to hear a passable 
 boarding-school performance, but he was 
 not prepared for the burst of song that 
 flowed, a liquid, breathing stream of melody 
 from her silver throat, as she sang the sim- 
 ple old English ballad she knew her rector 
 loved so well to hear. 
 
 "Eh, Jedge; how is that fer high? Kin 
 yer side ov the house beat hit ? " trium- 
 phantly whispered her father, as the last rav- 
 ishing trill fairly lifted his fond old heart 
 into an ecstasy of delight. 
 
 "That is heaven itself," answered the 
 Judge, stepping softly to her side and stoop- 
 ing to kiss her head. "This has been a day 
 of surprises to me," he whispered, "but this 
 last is the sweetest surprise of all. I must 
 thank you for it." 
 
 "I am only too glad to please you," and 
 the brimming tears told how tenderly his 
 words had touched her. 
 
 "It more than pleases me ; it fills my soul 
 with rapturous delight. Where in the world
 
 94 DA FID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 have you been keeping this wonderful voice 
 all this while ? " 
 
 "She has been wasting it upon us two 
 old men, her father and me," spoke in the 
 rector, with a smile. ' ' Don't you think us 
 selfish to appropriate such a delight all to 
 ourselves ? " 
 
 "Wasting?" she asked ; "then you have 
 only been flattering me all this while, with 
 the pretense that you enjoyed it." 
 
 "No, no. We did enjoy it, but it was all 
 too good for us." 
 
 " Too good for you ? Then I shall be sadly 
 puzzled to know what further use to make 
 of it." 
 
 "I tells yer, Jedge," cut in her father, 
 "she's thest been a savin' hit all fer David ; 
 eh, Abby ? Yer needn't blush so." 
 
 "Then David should be a very happy 
 man ; but I shall have to beg one for myself, 
 if only one. David may never miss it. " 
 
 " Oh ! I shall always reserve one for you 
 for you and my home friends," she smilingly 
 answered, softly touching the keys for a 
 suggestion. 
 
 "Sing 'Ole Robin Gray' for the Jedge; 
 that allers sorter makes me feel a little sorter 
 solumcholly-like. " 
 
 "Auld Robin Gray" was rendered with
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 95 
 
 such touching pathos as to draw tears from 
 the three' old men. 
 
 "An' now gin us somethin' funny ter 
 make us laff agin," cried her father, mop- 
 ping his eyes. 
 
 As sparkling in comedy as she was tender 
 in pathos, she soon had them smiling again, 
 and then the rector rose up and went to her. 
 
 " Now, give me ' Bethany,' and let me go." 
 
 As the angels might have sung it she sang 
 "Nearer my God to Thee," and then the 
 man of God, tenderly laying his hand upon 
 her bowed head, gave her his blessing and 
 went on his way. 
 
 "Now, Jedge, I'll hev ter leave you an' 
 Abby ter get aquainted with one anuther, 
 while I has to do a little figgerin' in my 
 room. I've a little bizness as needs fixin', an' 
 bizness iz bizness, yer know, with me, an' so 
 you kin thest make yourseff at home. Abby 
 is thest as much yourn now az she iz mine, 
 an' 'less I'm monstus mistakin you'll soon be 
 thest as proud ov her as I am myseff . " 
 
 " Yes, I am really and truly proud of her 
 already," answered the Judge, as the old 
 gentleman politely bowed himself out. 
 "And now, my daughter, I wish to look at 
 you good," taking her hand as she arose 
 from the piano, and leading her into the full
 
 96 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 light of a window ; "your beauty is so sur- 
 prising, so different from what I expected, 
 that I wish to identify it as real, and to fix 
 it in my mind as a joy forever." 
 
 And the beauty of Abigail was indeed a 
 surprising one ; and what made it the more 
 perplexingly sweet, it was full of surprises : 
 each look, each turn of the face, each shade 
 of color seemed to unhide a lurking beauty. 
 Her face was one of those rare faces which 
 embodies in one a dual style of beauty, both 
 surprisingly distinct in characteristic charm, 
 but each exquisite in its own peculiar loveli- 
 ness. 
 
 Standing vis-a-vis, looking into the fair, 
 open face, the large, lustrous brown eyes, 
 with their exquisitely-arched brows and long 
 silken lashes of jet ; the sweet mouth and 
 the peachy, dimpled chin, one beholds a 
 Madonna in her sweetest form of passive 
 loveliness. Then turn to the side and sil- 
 houette the profile against the crystal air ; 
 the glorious crown of hair, flossy as silk and 
 dark as the raven's wing, the snowy fore- 
 head, the inky eyebrow, the drooping eyelids 
 with the long sweeping lashes, the pretty 
 nose, slightly "tilt-tipped," the thin lips 
 piquantly curled, the classic chin and the 
 gracefully-poised neck, soft and white as
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 97 
 
 the swan's, and lo ! Venus herself, in all her 
 enchanting loveliness, stands before you, a 
 pleasing surprise for the moment and a con- 
 stant gladness for all time. Her form was 
 perfect, her stature slightly above the ordi- 
 nary height of woman, her motion lissome 
 and graceful, and to this beauty of form and 
 loveliness of face was to be added a still 
 more exquisite charm, that indescribable 
 charm of manner and sweetness of expres- 
 sion that can make even a homely woman 
 look lovely and sweet. 
 
 For a moment the Judge, with a critically 
 refined taste, studied the beautiful picture, 
 the most completely lovely that his eye ever 
 beheld, the young lady submitting to the 
 inspection with a slightly puzzled air that 
 lent at one and the same time soberness to 
 the vis-a-vis and piquancy to the profile. 
 
 " Ah ! I see you are puzzled, but you must 
 not think me impertinent," he said, as the 
 expressive eyes began to dilate into wonder 
 under the crucial steadiness of his look. "It 
 is not an idle nor impertinent curiosity that 
 attracts my gaze. I was only wishing that 
 my son had seen you as I see you now. But 
 never mind, he will see you, for I shall tell 
 him. But now, daughter or, what name 
 shall I call you ? " 
 7
 
 98 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " If I felt more secure in the that is, I 
 mean if if I felt as sure of his love, as I 
 I shall hope some day to be, I should wish 
 for no dearer name than daughter ; but 
 until he tells me that I may claim it, it some- 
 how, sir, seems a mockery, and I must ask 
 you to call me by my own name," she 
 answered. 
 
 " And that is what ?" 
 
 " My name is Grace Abigail. My mother 
 called me Grace ; my father calls me Abby, 
 after my mother. I believe, sir, I should 
 like for you to call me Abigail." 
 
 " Ah ! so be it ; Abigail. And you know 
 that my son is David David and Abigail ; 
 that is a coincidence. Ah ! let us hope, a 
 happy one," he answered cheerily. 
 
 " Oh ! sir, I must tell you, and you must 
 not laugh at me for my faith, nor call it 
 superstition, for I I am not superstitious. 
 I do not believe in dreams, nor signs, nor in 
 ordinary stichistry ; but when he, David 
 Mr. Winston, I mean, wrote me such a cold 
 formal note, yesterday, proposing to marry 
 me, I was sorely troubled what to do ; I could 
 not decide for myself, and I had no mother 
 to go to ; I could only ask my God to help 
 me, and I got on my knees and prayed to 
 Him for guidance ; but feeling no strengthen-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 99 
 
 ing help, I arose from my knees in a blind 
 despair, when my eyes rested upon my Bible, 
 and it came to me that I would find my 
 answer there. I opened the book, and the 
 first words that caught my eye were those 
 concerning the betrothal of David and Ab- 
 igail. I can repeat the passage, for it is 
 rooted in my memory," and in a voice 
 strangely sweet she repeated the story : 
 " " And when the servants of David were come 
 to Abigail to Carmel, they spake unto her 
 saying ; David sent us unto thee to take thee 
 to him to wife. And she arose and bowed 
 herself on her face, to the earth and said : 
 Behold, let thine handmaid be a servant to 
 wash the feet of the servants of my lord. 
 And Abigail hasted and arose and rode upon 
 an ass, with five damsels of hers that went 
 after her. And she went after the mes- 
 sengers of David and became his wife.' Now 
 sir, was that chance ? a mere coincidence ; an 
 accidental finding of two names thus linked 
 together ? Was it Destiny or was it the hand 
 of Providence that guided me in answer to 
 my prayer ? " 
 
 " Let us accept it as the oracle of God, and 
 trust to His providence to bless your union," 
 he answered, reverently kissing her ; and 
 then after a moment's sober silence he con-
 
 100 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 tinued : " As David is not here to carry you 
 to our home I must ask you to go with me. 
 I wish Augusta to know you." 
 
 "Augusta?" 
 
 " Yes, my daughter. Your sister." 
 
 " I should be glad to know her. I asked 
 her to come ; that is I wrote him to ask her, 
 but but 
 
 " Yes, I know ; I understand ; but like all 
 of us Augusta did not know. As I said 
 before, we have sadly misjudged you ; you 
 must forgive us. And you will let me bring 
 her to see you ? I will bring her this after- 
 noon. I am so anxious for you two to know 
 each other, for I know that you will soon 
 learn to love one another." 
 
 11 Oh, yes ; if she will only come. No false 
 pride shall hold me back from meeting her 
 more than half-way ; please bring her ; even 
 now. Perhaps she will dine with us ; and 
 you too. Remember that it is my wedding 
 dinner," she added a little playfully. 
 
 "Yes, that will be pleasant. I will go at 
 once and fetch her. You can tell your 
 father," and delighted with the suggestion 
 he hurried away on the moment, to break 
 the surprising news to his daughter. 
 
 " Ho ! iz the Jedge gone, a'reddy ? " asked 
 the old gentleman, coming in a moment
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 101 
 
 later, to find his daughter sitting alone at 
 the window, wistfully looking far away, in 
 the direction of Philippi. 
 
 " Ah ! I must tell you. He has gone after 
 his daughter, Miss Winston. They are com- 
 ing to dine with us, to-day." 
 
 " Eh ! is thay ? That's good, an' you must 
 tell Sealy ter put the big pot in the little one 
 an' make dumplins ov the skillet. Tell her 
 thest ter spread herself. But, Abby," sink- 
 ing his voice a little drearily, "she's monstus 
 proud, she ez, an' she's never seed me an' hain't 
 yused ter my pore-f okesy ways, an' ez I wants 
 her ter love you, 'thout knowin' ennything 
 'bout me, I thinks hit best as I should be outen 
 the way when she comes. I've got bizness 
 at the bank ennyhow, an' you kin thest 'scuze 
 me ter the Jedge." 
 
 " Father, I should despise her forever, 
 were she to think slightingly of you. If I 
 must lose you to gain her, or him, or any 
 one else in the world, I shall not care to 
 gain them. You are dearer to me than all 
 others beside," she cried, clinging to his arm 
 affectionately. 
 
 "Yes, I knows, hunny, but you won't hev 
 ter lose me. When they comes ter know 
 you thay won't think ennything wrong o' 
 me. When she loves you she won't despize
 
 102 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 me ; but till she sees you fust she mussent 
 see me. I knows, Abby, an hit's all right. 
 Human natur iz human natur, an' you can't 
 change hit no more'n the Esop can change 
 hiz hide, nor the lepperd his spots. Now ye 
 thes lemma work hit. I'll be down at the 
 bank, an' you kin tell the Jedge I'll get a 
 snack at the resteraw, an' you ken have the 
 whole house ter youseffs. An' mine an' tell 
 Sealy thes ter hump herseff on the dinner. 
 Come now, hunny, don't look so sorry. You 
 mussent mine me ; no you mussent. Hit 
 'ill come right in the eend, yer see if hit 
 don't. How d'ye like the Jedge, anyhow ? 
 He's a jolly ole coon, hain't 'e ? " divertingly. 
 
 "He was very kind to me, and I shall 
 love him always." 
 
 "In course yer will, an' you'll love David 
 too, arter awhile, an' he'll love you, an' 
 well all like one anuther, an' we'll all be 
 thes as happy as a passel ov dead pigs in the 
 sunshine. So run now, hunny, an' wash yer 
 face an' git all them tears clean away, an 
 look thes as bright az a big sunflower when 
 the tippy-bob comes. I thes know's she'll 
 'spect ter see a tackey an I wants yer ter 
 'sprize her like you 'sprized the Jedge, thes 
 now. Thar's nothin' in the world to take 
 the starch outen a feller, or the conceit
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 103 
 
 outen a girl like a 'sprize at fust sight. Hit 
 thes knocks the socks offen 'em at once, 
 an' 'specially the female 'umman. Ef ole 
 Paul hadn't a been struck bline with 'sprize 
 at the fust pop, he wouldn't a never knowecl 
 what hit 'im ; 'so now, sweety, I'll git off 
 afore they comes. Thar thar, brighten 
 up," soothingly kissing her. " You mus- 
 sent cry. You'll spile all the purty," and 
 with the moisture almost blinding his own 
 eyes, he tenderly kissed her again, one 3 
 more, and hurried away, to keep from 
 breaking down utterly, while she, with a 
 brave effort to be strong, went up to her 
 dressing-room, to wash away all traces of 
 tears she was so powerless to keep back. 
 
 Surely, she could not know how sweetly 
 those unasked-for pearls glorified the beauty 
 of her face, or she would not have hurried 
 away, in such haste, to wash them off -before 
 any one might come to see them.
 
 104 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MISS WINSTON MUCH AGAINST HER WILL, CALLS 
 UPON HER NEW SISTER-IN-LAW. 
 
 JUDGE WINSTON found his daughter in an 
 unamiable mood. She had wept off the 
 hysteria of mortified pride, and was now 
 sunk in an aftermath of morose and sullen 
 anger. The traces of weeping were still on 
 her cheeks, for she had been too callous in 
 her humiliation to even care to remove them. 
 Her father noted the abandon of misery, and 
 somehow it irritated him. He felt it a re- 
 proach to the gentle girl whom he had just 
 left, and whom he felt had been already too 
 grossly insulted. 
 
 "Are you ill?" he curtly asked, and the 
 unconscious acerbity of tone resented the 
 slight that had been put upon the other. 
 
 "I am not ill only heart-sick and dis- 
 gusted. I was only wishing that I was 
 Brother David, that I might go out like 
 another Judas and hang myself," she 
 answered, with a quick erection of the pretty 
 head.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 105 
 
 "When your brother David comes to 
 know what a sweet woman God has given 
 him for a wife, he will deserve to be hanged 
 as an ingrate if he does not love her as his 
 life." 
 
 " Sweet woman, indeed ! Forty thousand 
 times her fortune could not make the woman 
 sweet to me, were I a man." 
 
 "Nor will her fortune ever make her 
 sweet to David 
 
 " I shall hope not," fiercely interrupting. 
 "I do hope he will put her away, swap her 
 off for a mulatto, or else sell her to some 
 other fool, as her old dog of a father sold her 
 to him. I do hope he may never put eye 
 upon her again. And I hope, father, that 
 you will never let him fetch her here, for 
 the moment she puts her foot in this house, 
 I shall go away myself. He may degrade 
 himself and disgrace his name, but his in- 
 famy shall never touch me. I shall have 
 nothing ,to do with his baggage. " 
 
 Her father stood a moment, slightly set 
 back by the energy of his daughter's wrath, 
 but the climatical epithet aroused his own, 
 and he interrupted sternly : 
 
 1 ' Come, this is all stuff ; you are foolish 
 and do not know what you are talking 
 about. Abigail is your equal in all things
 
 106 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 that are lovely or lovable, and I am sure 
 that she would be superior to such an in- 
 decent display of temper as this. I wished 
 myself, to bring her home, but she has too 
 much self-respect to come without her hus- 
 band can fetch her. But I have come for 
 you, Augusta. I must carry you to her. I 
 wish you to see her, I wish you to know 
 her. You cruelly misjudge" her, as David 
 misjudges her ; as I myself misjudged her ; 
 unjustly, unkindly misjudged her. She is 
 a sweet girl, how sweet you will have to see 
 her yourself to know." 
 
 " But I do not wish to know her ; I never 
 care to see her." 
 
 "But you must see her, for my sake, if 
 not for your own. She is expecting you. 
 I voluntarily told her that I would come for 
 you, and you must go." 
 
 ' ' I cannot go. I despise her and will 
 have nothing to do with her," with an 
 emphatic stamp of her foot. 
 
 " Then you set my wishes at defiance ? " 
 
 "You ought not to ask such an impossi- 
 ble thing of me." 
 
 "Then I shall not ask it. I simply com- 
 mand it. I have ordered the carriage ; get 
 ready at once, " he commanded sternly. 
 
 "Very well !.if you command I will have
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 107 
 
 to obey, as Sallie there would have to obey. 
 If the carriage is ready so am I," rising up 
 with a proud, flashing eye. ' ' Sallie, get my 
 bonnet and gloves ; I am going to make a 
 call." 
 
 "Lawzy mussy, Miss Gussie ; hain't yer 
 gwine ter dress ? Yer hair iz all atumbled 
 up an' yer face iz thes splutched all over," 
 protested Sallie' jealous of her mistress' 
 pretty looks. 
 
 "Never mind my hair, nor my dress. 
 Nobody will see me. It is only a tackey I 
 am going to see, she will know no better. 
 Now, sir, I am ready, " pulling on her gloves. 
 
 " Very well; only, to do my duty, I should 
 insist upon a more becoming toilet ; but as 
 you yourself will have to suffer the mortifi- 
 cation, I will let you go." 
 
 ' ' No mortification will ever equal the 
 humiliation of this," she said, pluckily stick- 
 ing to the last word, as she walked out to 
 the carriage in a somewhat passe morning- 
 gown. 
 
 A few minutes' drive, in silence, brought 
 them to the gate. She had often noted and 
 admired the outward splendor of the place, 
 but had never known to whom it belonged, 
 and now as they stood before the massive 
 door, with the elaborately carved roses on
 
 108 DAVITt AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 its panels telling of the splendor within, she 
 began to shrink back into a sickening sense 
 of her own shabbiness. 
 
 "I I hardly expected such a place as 
 this or I I should have dressed, " she stain - 
 meringly whispered, as her father raised 
 the knocker. 
 
 "It would have been more respectful to 
 your sister ; however, it is too late now," 
 he answered, giving the knocker a vigorous 
 pull. 
 
 Sam opened the door, but the young mis- 
 tress, herself, stood ready to greet them. 
 
 Poor Augusta ! if the inanimate splendor 
 of the place had so overcome her obstinate 
 indifference, what must have been the over- 
 whelming effect when she looked up to find 
 herself in the presence of the fairest, queen- 
 liest, loveliest lady she had ever before seen 
 in all her life ! 
 
 For a moment she stood, in an admiring 
 daze, forgetting, in the radiant presence of 
 the lady, the almost slatternly appearance of 
 her own. It was not until her father spoke 
 that she was recalled to a sense of the situ- 
 ation, and then she wished for the floor to 
 open that she might drop through and be 
 hidden from sight. 
 
 " This is my daughter ; Augusta, this is
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 109 
 
 your sister Abigail. I wish so much for you 
 two to know each other." 
 
 "If Miss Winston will let me, I shall be 
 glad to know her, " answered Abigail, a lit- 
 tle uncertain of her advance. She had a 
 dim suspicion that, much against her will, 
 the young lady had been forced into the 
 association ; the negligee dress had told its 
 story. No young lady would venture in the 
 presence of one whom she cared for, or even 
 respected, arrayed in such slovenly attire. 
 
 The voice, though, was low and sweet, 
 and there was a wistfulness in the look that 
 accompanied it, that helped to reassure the 
 abashed young lady, and clasping the hand 
 her father had joined in hers she answered : 
 
 "I think that I shall be glad to know 
 you, too," and then with another glance at 
 the refined elegance of everything around, 
 she added : ' ' But you must excuse me now. 
 I only called at the hurried insistence of my 
 father and am hardly presentable." 
 
 " Ah, but you must dine with us. I am 
 quite alone, there is no one but your father. 
 I can readily excuse the hurry of your 
 toilet." 
 
 " You are very good, but I cannot excuse 
 it myself. I really must go. I I may 
 comeback."
 
 110 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Oh, will you?" 
 
 "Yes. It will not detain me long. 
 Father, will you go with me, or shall I 
 excuse you here ? " 
 
 "I will go with you. Your sister will 
 excuse us. I am afraid, my dear, that you 
 will think us a very eccentric set?" turn- 
 ing to the young lady with an apologetic 
 smile. 
 
 "Oh, no, I think that I understand," a 
 little sadly. 
 
 "Yes, I am quite sure that you do. 
 But by-bye, we will be back within a half 
 hour." 
 
 "Oh, father, why did you not tell me?" 
 cried Augusta, as the carriage drove rapidly 
 away. 
 
 "I tried to tell you but you would not 
 listen." 
 
 "Yes, but you should have compelled me. 
 I never dreamed of such a thing." 
 
 " Nor did I before to-day." 
 
 "But you told me the other day that she 
 was ugly ; a fright ; snub-nosed, freckled- 
 faced and waddled like a duck." 
 
 "I was sadly mistaken. I had really 
 never seen her before to-day when she came 
 in, so shyly clinging to your brother's arm, 
 the most radiant vision of womanly loveli-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. Ill 
 
 ness my eyes ever rested upon. I was 
 astounded myself. It was some one else I 
 had seen and mistaken for her." 
 
 "I was never so ashamed of myself 
 before in all my life. I did wish the walls 
 to fall in upon me to hide my shame. I 
 shall never do such an unwomanly thing 
 again as long as I live. Even Sallie knew 
 better. Does Brother Dave know ? Has he 
 really seen her ? " 
 
 " I fear he does not know. She looked 
 very sweet and conducted herself admi- 
 rably ; indeed few women could have carried 
 themselves as she did ; but I fear the poor 
 boy was too much blinded by prejudice, 
 willfully blinded, to see. He was not gra- 
 cious, he was almost boorish and I fear hurt 
 her. He was positively rude, and she is not 
 without feeling. She is a girl of the tender- 
 est sensibilities. She has good sense, how- 
 ever, with it, and a superb courage, and may 
 be able to despise what would otherwise of- 
 fend. Do you know that is now my great- 
 est fear, that she may come to despise David, 
 for his unreasonable prejudice. What a 
 retribution upon our family pride would 
 that be ? She, the despised daughter of the 
 parvenu, looking in scorn upon the scion of 
 my house. But I trust to her sweetness to
 
 112 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 save our family from such a humiliation. I 
 am sure that she is as good as she is beauti- 
 ful." 
 
 " And her name is Abigail ? What a hor- 
 rid name ! " 
 
 " I think it a very sweet one. David and 
 Abigail ! What a happy coincidence, is it 
 not ? " 
 
 " I never heard of it before." 
 
 " Oh, Augusta ! Never heard the script- 
 ural story of King David and of Abigail his 
 wife?" 
 
 " Yes, of course I have heard of King 
 David, but I thought that it was Uriah who 
 was his wife. But I don't care, the names 
 are simply horrible. I don't see why parents 
 impose such ugly names upon their helpless 
 babies." 
 
 "David was named for your grandfather, 
 your mother's father. It was a very dear 
 name to her and I named our first-born for 
 him," a little penitently. 
 
 "Oh, David will do well enough for a 
 boy, or a man. It doesn't matter so much 
 for them, but for a girl ! Abigail ! It is 
 shocking and shows the low taste of her 
 parents." 
 
 " She has another name; the name her 
 mother gave her. It is Grace."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 113 
 
 "Ah ! that is better ; that is really pretty, 
 and so much more in keeping with her looks. 
 She is wondrously pretty and seems almost 
 Grace itself. Why not call her Grace ? " 
 
 ' ' I asked her what I should call her, and 
 she answered Abigail. " 
 
 " Ah ! she said that ? I thought better of 
 her than that." 
 
 " No, I think it very sweet in her ; because 
 of its association with David. " 
 
 " And are they really married ? It doesn't 
 seem true." 
 
 ' ' Yes, they are really married, and a hand- 
 somer couple I never saw. My heart 
 swelled with pride as I looked upon them." 
 
 "And Brother Dave went right away, and 
 left her ? " 
 
 " Yes, just as soon as he could gulp down 
 his breakfast. In truth, one to have seen 
 him bolting down his food would have 
 thought that it was only for his breakfast 
 that he came." 
 
 " That seems hard." 
 
 " Yes, it is hard, and I feel very much 
 ashamed of it. We must help her to forgive 
 it." 
 
 " Did she seem to mind it ? I should de- 
 spise a man who thought more of his break- 
 fast than of me. If Walter can think of
 
 114 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 eating for a week after we are married, I 
 shall give him my opinion of a glutton." 
 
 "Yes, of course she minds it; his going 
 away so soon, I mean ; his eating was all 
 right enough, and I could notice a little 
 wifely pleasure flushing her cheeks as she 
 herself poured his coffee. It was his un- 
 gracious manner of leaving that hurt her. 
 But she was too sweet and brave to let 
 any one know. I could only see it in her 
 eyes." 
 
 " But why did she marry him, a man she 
 never saw, and a man who cares nothing 
 about her?" 
 
 " Ah ! why did she ? Why does any one 
 marry ? Why did I marry your mother ? " 
 
 " But you must have loved my mother ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! but how came it about ? How 
 happened it that we first met ? Ah ! there 
 are mysteries, my daughter, that we may 
 not understand. It was written in the book 
 of their lives that they were to marry, and 
 if David will only prove himself worthy of 
 Abigail, I am sure that he will always bless 
 the Providence that gave him such a wife. 
 But here we are at home. Hurry up to your 
 room and dress in a minute ; we must not 
 keep her waiting ; we have already lost an 
 hour. The clocks are striking two, now.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 115 
 
 Robert, keep the carriage waiting ; we are to 
 drive back directly," turning to the coach- 
 man, as he handed his daughter from the 
 carriage. 
 
 " Ah ! this is so much better ; so much 
 more becoming to yourself and to your 
 station, than the dress you wore before," he 
 cried as, after a hurried toilet, his daughter 
 reappeared, arrayed in faultless dinner- 
 dress. 
 
 " I am truly sorry that I did not know 
 before," she said springing into the carriage, 
 and in a few minutes they were again at 
 the Hardie mansion. 
 
 This time there was no uneasy slipping 
 away of self-sufficiency, but rather a buoy- 
 ancy of spirits as she again stood before the 
 door, and there was no abashed shrinking 
 aside when the queenly young mistress 
 again came forward to meet her. With a 
 little pause to wonder for an instant at the 
 beauty of the eyes, Augusta Winston put 
 out her arms and took her newly-made 
 sister to her heart, only softly murmuring 
 as she kissed her : 
 
 "My sweet sister." 
 
 After that there was no need of ceremony, 
 explanation, or apology between them, that 
 sisterly kiss, so artless in affection, sufficed
 
 116 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 for all that had passed and for all that was 
 to come. 
 
 With an arm affectionately linked in the 
 arm of each, the young mistress conducted 
 her honored guests into the parlor, where 
 another perplexing amaze filled the looks of 
 the young lady, as she glanced around upon 
 the princely elegance of the room. 
 
 The little heart-shaped dais, with its 
 rich carpet of purple velvet, was still there, 
 and the snowy bell, now redolent with its 
 mellowing roses, hung in its place. 
 
 The unexpected sight of this suggested 
 a new wonder to the admiring eyes of the 
 young lady, and she turned inquiringly : 
 
 " But I thought the wedding had been a 
 private one ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " cut in her father, with a mis- 
 chievous twinkle in his eye. ' * There were 
 a hundred admiring eyes to see. The room 
 was quite full, and I very much doubt if a 
 more loyal concourse of friends ever before 
 gave earnest of good wishes to a bride more 
 beloved. " 
 
 "Indeed! And who were your attend- 
 ants ? " turning to the bride. 
 
 "Nanny, there," pointing to her grin- 
 ning maid, " was kind enough to attend me." 
 
 "Oh!"
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL, 117 
 
 " Yes, and solemn as was the moment, and 
 much as I felt like crying, it was really too 
 ludicrous to see and hear her as she ushered 
 your brother into my room. f Here, Miss 
 Grace, I Ve fetched 'im,' she cried, making one 
 of the most comical little courtesies imagi- 
 nable. I could hardly keep from laughing. 
 I wonder if he was too sadly distraught to 
 notice it ? Heigh-ho ! " and despite all her 
 bravery, a little sigh had to slip out. 
 
 " Ah ! I wish that I had known. I ought 
 to have come. But were there no others 
 who could have done that little for you ? " 
 
 ' ' Oh, no ! save your father and mine there 
 were no others present, except the negroes. 
 It was to the negroes your father referred 
 when he spoke of ' admiring eyes ' ; " she 
 smilingly answered. ' ( The home negroes, 
 wished to see me married and I could not 
 refuse the good creatures," she further 
 explained, seeing a little curl to the young 
 lady's upper lip. 
 
 "And I am glad that they were present," 
 said her father, in defiance of the little curl 
 to the aristocratic lip. "They showed by 
 their simple demonstrations of affection 
 what a gentle mistress you are to them. No 
 ' epithalamium sung by a crowned muse,' 
 could have spoken your ^praises more
 
 118 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 eloquently than did their artless words of 
 endearment. It was a scene that I should 
 like to see painted." 
 
 "It touched me, and my heart had to bless 
 them," Abigail answered. 
 
 "You must not mind my looking, I have 
 all the young lady's proverbial curiosity 
 about such things. Will you show me?" 
 asked Augusta, rising, and stepping to the 
 dais and standing under the roses. 
 
 " I am glad that it interests you, and I will 
 show you. Your father will excuse us, or 
 will you look in the library, sir ? Nanny can 
 show you, and I must tell you, my father 
 charged me to make his excuses to you: he 
 will be detained at the bank all the after- 
 noon, and we must not expect him." 
 
 " Oh! yes, certainly! " and in spite of his 
 better nature, there was a soupcon of relief 
 in his feelings at the announcement. " And 
 I can gladly excuse you two girls, " he added 
 brightly, "for a little while, however, a very 
 little while, until you can gratify Augusta's 
 curiosity. I see she is just dying by inches 
 to know all about it. What a pity we didn't 
 have a Jenkins on hand to write it all down," 
 he laughed, nodding back, as he followed 
 the lead of Nanny to the library. 
 
 "And now," said Abigail, turning to
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 119 
 
 Augusta, " I will show you; there across the 
 corridor is my little drawing room, it opens 
 into my boudoir .and through it into my 
 chamber, and it was in there that I was 
 hidden " 
 
 "All by yourself?" 
 
 " Yes, all by myself, like a criminal in his 
 cell awaiting the executioner 
 
 " Were you not frightened ? " 
 
 "I was fluttered. I I but I had best 
 not tell you." 
 
 "Oh, yes! tell me, you must not mind 
 telling me anything. I feel already as if 
 I had known you always. I am sure I 
 shall tell you all my secrets, all about 
 Walter. Do you know that I am going 
 to be be married too ? " with a rosy blush 
 half of pride and half of shame. 
 
 "Ah! I hope you may be happy." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! thank you ! but now I have 
 told you all my secret, you must tell me 
 yours. Tell on. What was it you were 
 afraid to tell ? " 
 
 ".Well, I will tell ; I was not quite quite 
 certain that he would come 
 
 " Oh ! that was sad," interrupting with a 
 little cry. 
 
 "Yes, it was sad ; and sadder still, I hardly 
 knew whether to wish him to come, or to
 
 120 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 wish him to stay away. But at last he 
 came ; Nanny ' fetched him.' ' 
 
 "That was funny," another interruption, 
 with a little laugh. 
 
 " Yes, and he forgot to take of his riding^ 
 gloves, but offered me his hand still gloved. 
 I hardly knew what to do, hut he soon 
 recovered his wits, and pulled them off and 
 threw them on the floor as if they had been 
 contaminated, and then, without intending 
 it, I am sure, he seized my hand with such a 
 grip as to almost make me scream with pain. 
 We came across the corridor there, and en- 
 tered the door here, and we stood here, at the 
 apex of the heart, and Dr. Davenport stood 
 there, between the lobes, and we knelt under 
 the roses, and I I I was very happy, for I 
 do, oh, yes, I do love him," and despite 
 herself the young lady had to break down 
 and go to crying. But the tears were very 
 sweet, and only caused her newly- found 
 sister to slip her arm around her waist 
 and cuddle her head against her shoulder, as 
 she soothingly whispered : 
 
 " And I am sure that brother David will 
 love you too, for he is one of the dearest and 
 best and kindest brothers in all the world; 
 and I I shall always love you for loving 
 him. And now you must give me one
 
 DAVID AXD ABIGAIL 121 
 
 of these buds," tiptoeing up to reach a 
 rose. 
 
 "As many as you may wish. Here, I 
 believe I am taller than you. See, I can easily 
 reach them, and here is a dainty cluster 
 of Marshal Neils, they will open prettily 
 to-morrow. I wonder if he would care to 
 have one ? I did so wish to pin one to 
 his breast this morning, the sweetest one I 
 could find, but he didn't have time, and I I 
 was afraid to bother him with roses when 
 he had scarcely time to eat his breakfast. 
 And do you know that I was so fluttered 
 and confused that I utterly forgot to put 
 him up a lunch, and he will have to drive 
 all the way to Philippi, and make a speech 
 without a morsel to eat. Was it not too 
 careless in me ? " 
 
 1 ' Oh, no ! He is used to it. He is so ab- 
 sorbed in the campaign that he hardly 
 thinks of his dinner. He scarcely sleeps 
 for pondering over his speeches. You 
 should hear him. I think him perfectly 
 splendid." 
 
 ' ' Oh, yes ; I have heard him. I heard 
 him at the City Hall the other evening. 
 Oh ! I was very proud of him then, even 
 before he had ever thought of poor stupid 
 me. But now let us go to your father ; it
 
 122 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 will be dinner soon ; or, let me show you 
 to your room : will you have one of my 
 rooms ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" 
 
 "Then Betty shall wait upon you. You 
 will find her a good girl. Nanny, send Bet- 
 ty up to the lilac room," and linking her 
 arm in the other's, she led her away to be 
 installed at home, and then turning her 
 over to the obsequious care of the grinning 
 Betty, she hurried down to the library to 
 look after her father-in-law, just as Sam 
 came in to announce dinner. 
 
 There were only two guests with the 
 bride at the wedding feast, but the table 
 would have sufficed for a hundred. 
 
 " Magnificent ! baronial in its sumptuous- 
 ness ! " commented the Judge, himself no 
 mean epicure. 
 
 " How pretty, how dainty, how ex- 
 quisite and nice ! " cried Augusta. 
 
 "Oh, if he only had a portion!" sighed 
 the bride. 
 
 But alas ! He for whom the fair bride was 
 so considerately sighing, albeit dinnerless, 
 as she feared, would have scarcely relished 
 the most tempting tid-bit of the menu, had 
 it, in all its profuse bounty, been spread 
 before him, for, at that precise moment, he
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 123 
 
 was writhing under the merciless lash of 
 his opponent's ribald satire. 
 
 That gentleman, the Honorable Thomas 
 Lawson, had, by some "devilish contrip 
 slight" of evil tongue, heard of the hasty 
 marriage that morning, and further, by 
 some unhappy chance, snatches of the dis- 
 graceful bargain had been caught by an 
 eavesdropper, and repeated to him with ap- 
 propriate embellishments, affording him a 
 delightful opportunity to display his low wit 
 and to gratify a rankling spite against an 
 innocent lady at one and the same time. 
 
 With the satire of a Sheridan, he pictured 
 a scion of the aristocracy exchanging shoes 
 with a clodhopper ; swapping his elegant 
 pump-soled boots for an ill-fitting pair of 
 broad-toed pegbottoms. And then, again, 
 a proud young gentleman, the son of one of 
 the most exclusively proud houses in the 
 State, posing on the topmost pinnacle of 
 social respectability, and then tumbling 
 down ; to be caught at the bottom in the 
 ready arms of a parvenu's daughter : 
 
 " Oh, what a luckless fall was there, my 
 countrymen ! But not altogether" luckless, 
 for be it known, that though unmistakably 
 pegbottom, the girl is prunella vamps and 
 morocco quarters, with silver tassels and
 
 124 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 golden buckles. She weighs two hundred 
 and fifty pounds, not counting chignon and 
 ear-bobs, at least ten pounds more, and we 
 are reliably told that for every pound of 
 'gal' he gets a pound of gold, with a 
 'nigger' or two * flung in,' a pretty fair 
 price, I should say, for a son-in-law ; more, 
 in fact, than he is worth, and for once in his 
 life, Ole Money-bags has been cheated at his 
 own game. But what a spectacle ! Capi- 
 tolian society dancing a german with pump- 
 soles on one foot and pegbottoms on the 
 other ! A gander with gaffs on could not 
 be more edifying." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A COMMON GRIEVANCE MAKES THEM CLOSE 
 OF KIN. 
 
 THE appointment for the next day was 
 at Graf ton, the county seat of an adjoining 
 county. The canvass was made by the old- 
 fashioned methods of stump-speaking in 
 joint discussion. 
 
 The candidates traveled the same circuit, 
 and when they first started out they
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 125 
 
 traveled together, but as the campaign pro- 
 gressed and the discussions became more 
 heated, its personalities day by day more 
 bitter, pointed and exasperating, they soon 
 fell apart, separating upon the adjournment 
 of one meeting, only to see each other at the 
 next, each traveling his own gait and his 
 own road, without friendly speech or even 
 recognition. 
 
 Up to that day at Philippi, they had 
 maintained a polite mansuetude toward 
 each other, but the uncalled-for, far-fetched 
 and grossly unjust allusions to his mar- 
 riage, and the obese charms of his wife, as 
 false as they were gross, had completely 
 destroyed what little had been left of the 
 entente cordiale between them, and now, in- 
 stead of coldly polite civilities, nothing was 
 exchanged between them save angry glances 
 and scowls of hatred and scorn. 
 
 The programme for speaking, as were the 
 appointments themselves, had been made by 
 the executive committees of the respective 
 parties. The speakers were to alternate in 
 opening and in closing. Lawson had 
 opened and closed at Philippi. It was 
 Winston's turn to-day at Grafton. An un- 
 usually large audience had gathered in the 
 court-house, for the fame of the speakers
 
 126 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 was spreading and the party spirit was run- 
 ning high. 
 
 A friend of each party occupied the stand, 
 and all was presided over by Judge Crisp, a 
 political friend of one and a warm personal 
 friend of the other. 
 
 Time was called at 12:30, when Col. Black 
 in an effusive but taking flourish intro- 
 duced : "The gallant standard-bearer of the 
 great unterrified, old-fashioned, flat-footed, 
 square-toed, peg-bottomed Democracy ; the 
 Honorable David E. Winston, who will now 
 address you." 
 
 The young orator arose, and after waiting 
 a moment for the storm of applause that 
 greeted him to subside, commenced his 
 speech by a personal reference : 
 
 " I am aware, my friends, and fellow- 
 citizens," he said, and they wondered a 
 little at the hardness of his voice, " that it 
 is in bad taste as well as in bad spirit, for a 
 speaker to inject in the discussion of ques- 
 tions purely political, matters which apper- 
 tain to his own individual self, and with 
 which the public can have no possible con- 
 cern. I grant, that when a man is per- 
 sonally unclean, when his private life is such 
 as to unfit him for a public trust ; when his 
 domestic relations are offensive to public
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 127 
 
 morality and obnoxious to the peace, the 
 purity and the well-ordering of society, that 
 when such a man, in defiance of all shame, 
 and defiant of public opinion, puts himself 
 before the people as a candidate for their 
 suffrages, he, with his character, as well as 
 his domestic irregularities, becomes a legiti- 
 mate subject for public arraignment, for 
 public comment, and for public condemna- 
 tion. But if a man be not these ; if there 
 be no taint of moral leprosy in his life, no 
 stain upon his honor, no reproach upon his 
 family, then his private life should be un- 
 touched, his home should be sacred, his wife 
 should be respected, and none but a lying 
 tongue, inspired by a heart as rotten and as 
 cowardly as hell itself, would dare speak 
 aught against it. I am thus emphatic, my 
 friends, because I wish to give point and 
 forcible direction to the proposition. It may 
 not concern you to know that I am a mar- 
 ried man. I cannot conceive why it should, 
 unless the fact of my being such may fit or 
 unfit me for serving you in a public capacity. 
 Unless celibacy be a political virtue, I can- 
 not see what interest the public can have in 
 the fact of my marriage, or why the per- 
 sonal appearance or avoirdupois of my wife 
 should be made a feature in this canvass.
 
 128 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 But it seems that it is to be. Yesterday 
 morning I was united in marriage to a lady, 
 not perhaps up to the gentleman's aristo- 
 craticst andard of social worth, but at least 
 of unquestioned and unquestionable repute, 
 and the announcement was not yet made to 
 my friends when my, I will not say honor- 
 able opponent," casting a glance of withering 
 scorn in the white face of Lawson, "was 
 quick to seize upon the circumstance as a 
 proper subject for the display of his gross 
 spleen and ribald wit 
 
 Here Lawson interrupted : "I called no 
 names, sir, I only instanced a circumstance 
 to illustrate a point," he said with a shabby 
 grace. 
 
 "No ; you called no names, because your 
 courage was not equal to your malignant 
 spleen. The malice that winged the shaft, 
 lacked the manliness to direct its aim ; but 
 it needed no names ; the brutal and asinine 
 applause of your friends told very plainly 
 how well it was understood. But had it not 
 been, had the prurient stupidity of the beasts 
 failed to comprehend your indecent innuendo, 
 this filthy sheet here," holding up a news- 
 paper, still wet from the press, ' ' this cus- 
 pidor of his political brothel, in which the 
 slime and slush and dregs of the drunken
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 129 
 
 revel are caught, to be dished out again to 
 the moral swine that fattens upon such swill, 
 would have told to whom, and to what the 
 cowardly allusion was made. This editor, 
 whom I see grinning before me, miserable 
 lickspittle as he is, yet more courageous 
 than the wretch who inspired him, after dis- 
 playing in bold-faced type, as a tempting 
 bill of fare, the ribald mouthing, has the 
 boldness to fix it directly upon me and mine. 
 This is what he says, and I must crave 
 your pardon for reading such rot : ' The 
 announcement in another column of the 
 marriage of the aristocratic Mr. David E. 
 Winston, son of Judge Winston, to Miss 
 Hardie, the buxom daughter of old Israel 
 Hardie, a genuine pegbottom, from Hurri- 
 cane Creek, gives intelligent point to the 
 witty remarks made yesterday, in his speech 
 at Philippi, by Hon. Thomas B. Lawson 
 as reported above. The point can be better 
 appreciated when it is known that the con- 
 ditions of the marriage settlement were pre- 
 cisely as he stated. The aristocratic, but 
 impecunious groom, was to receive, as a 
 quid pro quo for his social position, with the 
 hand of his bride, a pound of gold for every 
 pound of girl, with a negro " flung in" with 
 every pound of each, This mercenary bar-
 
 130 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 gain, so revolting to the sanctity of the mar- 
 riage compact, was made in the office of Mr. 
 Winston, between the woman's father and 
 the Judge's son, and was witnessed by the 
 Judge himself. The shameful dicker was 
 overheard by more than one listener, and its 
 truth, incredible as it may seem, can be 
 established beyond cavil. Vive les pegbot- 
 toms ; they are coming to the front.' 
 
 "Now, my friends, it is not for myself 
 that I notice this scurrilous effusion, but in 
 behalf of the lady, an inoffensive and un- 
 offending lady, against the fair mirror of 
 whose pure womanhood not even a whisper 
 of scandal has ever been breathed, and whose 
 only offense is that she is the daughter of a 
 nian who was once poor, but is now rich, a 
 man who started life -at the plow, a poor 
 unlettered boy, and who, by industry, econ- 
 omy and good judgment has been fortunate 
 enough to acquire wealth ; not dishonestly, 
 mind you, no insinuation has been made 
 against his probity, it is only that he is rich, 
 or rather that he was once poor. I repeat, 
 that it is in behalf of this lady, who is in 
 nowise responsible for my candidacy, I put 
 the gentleman and his friends and tools, 
 upon notice, that any further reference to 
 her, or to her worthy father, during this can-
 
 DAVID AXD ABIGAIL. 131 
 
 vass, shall be accepted by me as a mortal 
 affront to be wiped out by the heart's blood 
 of the dastardly miscreant who dares to 
 make it. And now, my fellow-citizens, beg- 
 ging your pardon for this reference to a 
 matter so aliunde to the issues of the can- 
 vass, and which is as painful to myself as it 
 must be nauseating to you, I shall address 
 myself to the more pertinent questions of 
 the campaign." 
 
 And with a rare eloquence, even in 
 those brave old days of brilliant oratory, 
 he plunged into the subject and made one 
 of the most telling speeches of the cam- 
 paign. 
 
 Lawson followed, but made no allusion to 
 the subject of marriage. The tightly com- 
 pressed lips and steel-cold glance of the 
 young man as he uttered the final words of 
 warning told him that it would indeed be 
 death to one of them for him to do so. He 
 saw, too, the mistake that he had made. 
 That the marriage of the young aristocrat 
 with one of the " pegbottoms, " instead *of 
 being a reproach to his prospects, was likely 
 to turn out a happy political stroke, as it 
 established a kind of kinship with that ilk, 
 and the " pegbottoms " were the real 
 sovereigns.
 
 132 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 But, while the speakers were silent on the 
 matter, the newspapers took it up and rang 
 its changes usque ad nauseam. 
 
 And it was through this medium of cold, 
 leaden type, that the young wife first came 
 to hear of it. Her interest in the canvass, 
 always alert, but now doubly so, made her 
 scan, with hungry eyes, every line that fell 
 under them, and when, two days later, the 
 weekly "Democratic Clarion," the political 
 vade mecum of her father's faith, was 
 brought in and under the double-scored 
 heading of : "An Outrage Against De- 
 cency," she read ; first, the editor's indig- 
 nant scorn and scathing protest against the 
 outrage, and then the extract from the 
 "Graf ton Whig," containing a verbatim 
 report of the cruel tirade ; the announce- 
 ment of the marriage, with the editor's 
 beastly comments, and then the " Clarion's " 
 report of her husband's reply, she could 
 hardly restrain the wrath that filled her 
 soul and fired every fiber of her being. No 
 hysterical sobs of shame and of mortified 
 pride moved her, but a flash of livid anger, 
 clinching her fists and stamping her feet in a 
 frenzy of outraged womanhood. 
 
 "Why, hunny ! what in the world's the 
 matter with you ? Your eyes flash thest
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 133 
 
 likelitening," asked her father, in a little 
 consternation at the cyclonic indications. 
 
 " Have you read this ? " 
 
 "Eh, no! In course not; I allers gin 
 you the paper fust. What is it? Has 
 Lawson bin a woollin' David ? I 'spects so. 
 Thest read it ter me, Abby, my eyesight 
 hain't so very good this mornin'." 
 
 "Yes, I will read it," and in a voice fairly 
 tragic in its wrath, she read it all. 
 
 "Well ! well ! well ! mussy me ! mussy 
 me ! Who'd a thought hit of Lawson ? But 
 I ruther think as David sorter got 'im on 
 the home-stretch. Don't you?" brighten- 
 ing up a little at the consoling thought. 
 
 "The niaii is a beast for mischief ; a base, 
 bad man," she cried fiercely. "And he is a 
 congressman ! and expects to be elected 
 again. Is it of such miserable stuff that our 
 statesmen are made ? " she asked in scorn. 
 
 " Some on 'em is. Some on 'em are made 
 ov monstus pore stuff, I tells you. An' is 
 mighty slack-twisted at that." 
 
 " It is infamous, the beast ! " 
 
 "Yes, an' thest ter think, Abby, that the 
 onnerry cuss had the brass ter come a pea- 
 vining around you, last year, hisseff ; I 
 am glad that you sot down on 'im, Abby, 
 dinged if I hain't,"
 
 134 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Please don't speak of it," with an angry 
 stamp of her pretty foot. 
 
 u Thar, now ! you've busted your slipper. 
 You mussent get so mad, hunny, the raskill 
 hain't worth it. I wouldn't spile my shoe 
 with such as he am. I wouldn't even wipe 
 my shoe on 'im if I waz you." 
 
 ' ' I could grind my heel on his forehead. 
 I could stamp his vile, slanderous serpent- 
 tongue out," making a pirouette upon an 
 imaginary head. 
 
 "An' git your heel all stone-bruised for 
 your trubble. No, hunny, that wouldn't 
 pay. You must cool down, sich tantrums 
 hain't purty, you don't look your natcherell 
 seff at all. You's too sweet a gurrill ter be 
 soured by sich a toad. You thest let 'im 
 alone an' David 'ill fix 'im. Do yer see as 
 David has got his brissels up, an' you may 
 thest bet yer bottom dollar that he'll fetch 
 'im ter taw." 
 
 " And to think that he should try to hurt 
 him through me ? " 
 
 "Yes, hit was mean, but then hit is 
 natcheral. Bizness is bizness, you know, 
 and them pollyticioners thest takes all the 
 underholt thay kin git. They don't mine 
 lying a bit." 
 
 " But he will not lie, I know. He would
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 135 
 
 scorn to do a mean thing," she loyally pro- 
 tested. 
 
 "Yes, I thinks myseff that David is plum' 
 square. But, Abby, tell me, what is a she- 
 non, anyhow. Is it very bad ? " lowering 
 his voice to a confidential whisper. 
 
 " A chignon is a horrid bunch of false hair, 
 that some ladies wear as their own. You 
 know that I never wore such a thing in my 
 life?" 
 
 " I should say not, seein' as how you have 
 more already than I would like to tote. An' 
 so that was all the 'bominal fool meant ter 
 say by shenon. I was effeered hit was some- 
 thing bad that he was a trying ter fling up 
 ter you. If that waz all, Abby, I don't 
 know as if I waz you as I would care for hit 
 at all. . Hit can't hurt you." 
 
 " No, it cannot hurt me, but oh ! how it 
 must have hurt him ! " 
 
 "Hit will hurt 'im afore David gits 
 through with 'im." 
 
 " But it was him, David, I meant." 
 
 "Eh ! was it ? Well, yes, no hit will not 
 hurt David, nuther, fer I tells you what's a 
 fac' : the peg-bottoms is a gwine ter take this 
 thing up, yer mine me if thay hain't. Thay 
 is monstus touchy, the pegbottoms, is, you 
 thes see zif they don't put David square in.
 
 136 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 Yer see, Abby, the most ov we-uns is peg- 
 bottoms, an' when the pumpsoles begin ter 
 step on our toes then we thes begin ter kick. 
 Did you see how slick David turned the joke 
 on 'im ? thar whar he sez that 'bout the pore 
 boy plowin'. I wish he'd a sed as I waz a 
 plowin' a bull-yearlin' ; that would a took. 
 Tliar's nothing like plowin' a bull-yearlin' 
 ter start a man ter congress on. Hit thes 
 made Joe Brown guv'nor ov Gorgy. Read 
 that again, Abby ; that's moustus good read- 
 in', an' I loves ter hear hit. " * 
 
 The irate young lady read the paragraph 
 again, and had her anger allowed her to con- 
 fess it, she felt a little pride herself in the 
 honest tribute so frankly paid to the sterling 
 worth of her father. 
 
 " That's bully, an' I'll thes bet you the 
 finest thoroughbred mare in Kaintucky that 
 hit thes lays the wax on Tom Lawson. 
 David is 'lected, thes as shore az falling off 
 a log. An' what iz that he sez 'bout you, 
 Abby ? Sumthin' 'bout the lookin'-glass ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes! I will read it: 'Now, my 
 friends it is not for myself that I notice this, 
 but in behalf of the lady, an inoffensive and 
 unoffending lady, against the fair mirror 
 of whose womanhood no whisper, even of 
 slander has ever been breathed, aud whose
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 137 
 
 only sin is that her father was once poor and 
 now is rich. ' ' 
 
 " Yes ; I sees now, an' hits mighty nice, 
 Abby. I thinks as how you orter be monstus 
 proud ov David ; monstus proud ! " 
 
 ' ' Oh ! I am proud of him, and shall always 
 bless him for his brave, manly words spoken 
 for me ; for me and for you, father ! Ah ! 
 here comes Augusta ; I wonder if she has 
 seen this ! " as the door opened and Nanny 
 ushered that young lady in. 
 
 " Yes, in course she has ; don't ye see she's 
 blowed up, fit ter pop ? Here ; lem-me slip 
 out ; I never could stand a 'umman in the 
 tantrums, an' I thes sees the ole Nick in ther 
 way her bonnit sets ! I'll go an' talk ter the 
 Jedge an' see what he sez about hit." And 
 without waiting for his hat, the old gentle- 
 man dashed through the rear door, just in 
 time to escape the explosion that came pop- 
 ping from the surcharged lips of the indignant 
 young lady. 
 
 " Oh ! Grace, Grace ! I have come to tell 
 you ; I am just too mad for anything, and 
 I couldn't stand it any longer. Here ! have 
 you seen this nasty thing ? " 
 
 ' ' In the Clarion, you mean ? " 
 
 "Yes; that miserable stuff! Oh! the 
 mean wretch ! I could positively claw him.
 
 138 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 Oh ! if I was only a man ! How I do wish I 
 was a man ; I would call the beast out and 
 shoot him like a dog. I am ashamed of 
 brother Dave that he hasn't done it. I 
 would have shot him on the spot. Don't it 
 make you sick to think of it ? " 
 
 " Yes; I was very angry at first, and, I 
 fear, made an exhibition of myself. See here ; 
 I have stamped my slipper into tatters. It 
 is hopelessly ruined," putting out her foot and 
 displaying the demoralized slipper. " Here, 
 Nanny ; take it away and bring my boots. 
 And now, Augusta ; have a seat ; let us sit 
 down and talk it all over and try not to mind 
 it so much. Of course it was contemptible 
 and mean, and I do know that it sorely 
 wounded your brother. Ah ! that the wretch 
 should try to wound him, through me ; I 
 who would of havecut my right arm to have 
 shielded him from any hurt ; it is too bad, 
 too bad ! " and if the demolished slipper had 
 not been safe in the caressing hand of 
 Nanny, who was vainly trying to smooth it 
 into shape again, it would have suffered 
 another martyrdom, for, in spite of her phil- 
 osophical purpose to sit down and talk it all 
 over without minding it, the thought of the 
 hurt put upon him, the man whom her 
 tender fancy had already apotheosized into a
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 139 
 
 divinity, filling her life with its completeness 
 of adoration, becoming not only its lord and 
 master but its idol as well, was so outrageous 
 that the loyal blood had to boil over again, 
 and the sympathetic feet had to fairly dance 
 in impotent rage. Next to the frantic capers 
 of an angry child there is nothing so charm- 
 ingly vigorous as the sudden wrath of a 
 pretty woman. 
 
 Miss Winston, already surcharged, began 
 to pop, too ; the explosions coming out in 
 little sparks and flashes. 
 
 "I wis wis wish we we ha-had him 
 here ; we would make make Jake hold him, 
 an and I I I would cow cowhi hide 
 him ; wouldn't you ? " 
 
 "It was so mean in him to try to wound 
 him," said Abigail, a little timidly, as if 
 some apology was needed for the unseemli- 
 ness of their tempers. 
 
 " To wound him ? No, darling, it was you 
 he struck ; the cowardly whelp, to strike a 
 woman ! Why should he wish to hurt you ? " 
 
 "Oh, no, not me ! it was him he tried to 
 kill. He could not hurt me ; it was only 
 him." 
 
 " But he cannot hurt brother David ; 
 everybody knows that he is incapable of 
 doing a mean thing."
 
 140 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Yes, I know; but perhaps the wretch 
 thought that he loved me, and that by ridic- 
 uling me he could hurt him. But wasn't it 
 ridiculous, though, the idea of me weighing 
 two hundred and fifty pounds and wearing 
 ear-bobs and a chignon ! How could he 
 ever think of such an absurd thing ? " 
 
 "Oh, because his own wife wears them, 
 I'll be bound. And besides, the wretch is 
 mean enough for anything. But, did he 
 ever see you ? " 
 
 "One should imagine not, from the de- 
 scription he gives of me ; but for all that, he 
 has seen me." 
 
 "Ah ! And could he condescend to waste 
 a glance on you ? " 
 
 "It was a condescension, to be sure ; but 
 he was gracious enough to make it. And, 
 Augusta, I ought not to tell it, but to show 
 you the full depth of the creature's mean- 
 ness, I will tell you ; only, Augusta, you 
 must first promise me that you will never, 
 never breathe a single syllable of it to mor- 
 tal ear, not even to your brother's. Will 
 you promise ? " 
 
 " Yes, I promise. Do tell me." 
 
 " Upon your life ?" 
 
 "Yes, upon my life. I won't even tell 
 Walter."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 141 
 
 "Then, would you believe it? This man, 
 who now speaks so cruelly of me, once 
 once, only last year, a few weeks before 
 he married the Widow Tuppin, had the con- 
 ceit to to ask me me to to marry 
 him- 
 
 "Oh! Grace, Grace!" in incredulous 
 amazement. 
 
 "Yes, it is true. I do not speak of it 
 boastingly, for somehow I never considered 
 it a matter to be proud of ; but, on the con- 
 trary, it always brought an uneasy feeling, 
 nearly akin to humiliation." 
 
 " And you refused him ? " 
 
 " Yes, I refused him. But I see that you 
 are still incredulous. I am telling you the 
 truth. I have his letter yet, asking me to 
 be his wife. Somehow I have neglected to 
 destroy it, or to send it back to him. Would 
 you care to see it ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I wish ever so much to see it ; 
 and if it is like you say, I should wish to 
 confront him with it, that it might choke 
 back the vile slander he has put upon you, 
 and upon my brother." 
 
 "No, I could not do that ; but I can show 
 it to you, only it must go no further. 
 Come, go with me to my room and I will let 
 you see it." And leading the way to her
 
 142 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 room, she unlocked her escritoire and found 
 the letter. " Here, read it, and then we will 
 burn it." 
 
 Augusta, with impatient curiosity, took 
 the missive and read : 
 
 " MY DEAR Miss HARDIE : I leave for Washington, to- 
 morrow, but before I go I must put an end to the sweet 
 suspense with which I have been so idly dallying, by ask- 
 ing you to be my wife. I presume, and trust, that the at- 
 tentions I have shown you may have prepared you for this 
 declaration, and that no further probation is needed to as- 
 sure you of the sincerity of my proposal. I may further 
 hope that you will not let any exaggerated appreciation of 
 my high position in society, nor morbid depreciation of 
 your own status, embarrass you in your answer. What you 
 lack in social prestige I can fully and freely make up. As 
 my wife you may rightfully claim an entrance to the high- 
 est circles, not only in this city and State, but in the still 
 more aristocratic court of Washington itself. I feel that 
 you would acquit yourself worthy of either, and I should 
 not hesitate to introduce you. 
 
 "I send this by the hand of my confidential servant, and 
 shall impatiently expect an answer by the same trusty 
 hand. Hoping that it may be favorable, and that I may be 
 permitted to call this evening to receive from your own 
 sweet lips an oral confirmation of the troth that is to make 
 me the happiest of mortals, I subscribe myself your most 
 faithful, true and devoted lover, 
 
 " THOMAS BOYKIN LAWSON, M. C. 
 
 " To Miss GKACE A. HARDIE, 
 
 "240 Colbert Avenue." 
 
 "Well, well, well ! Who ever heard of 
 such a thing ! " exclaimed the young lady in
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 143 
 
 amused astonishment, as she finished the 
 amorous epistle. "And this is from the 
 man who said such ugly things about you ? 
 But how did you answer him ? " 
 
 " I was amused at the man's egotism, but 
 I did not answer him according to his folly ; 
 I simply declined his offer." 
 
 " Egotism ! Why I never before in all 
 my life, heard of such egregious self-con- 
 ceit. But what did you say ? " 
 
 "I kept no copy of my answer; I only 
 wrote a curt little note, telling him that he 
 need not call. I fear that I forgot to 
 even thank him for his wonderful condescen- 
 sion. And perhaps it was my laches in 
 gratitude, still rankling in his mind, which 
 provoked his savage philippic." 
 
 " And he bothered you no more ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. Luckily he had another string 
 to his bow, and was married the very next 
 week to the wealthy widow Turpin, and I 
 never saw him any more again until the 
 other evening at the City Hall, when he 
 failed to recognize me. But here, Augusta, 
 give me the letter and let me burn it, and 
 with its ashes let all memory of his cow- 
 ardly perfidy go." 
 
 "I wish brother David could see it," 
 reluctantly giving it up.
 
 144 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Oh, no; I should be ashamed for him 
 ever to know." 
 
 "But he should know, that he might hoist 
 him with his own petard. " 
 
 "No, no. If I could, I should ask him 
 never to notice the miserable wretch again. 
 And I, I shall put it all away too ; only I 
 shall never forget to love him for his brave 
 words so gallantly spoken in my behalf, 
 never, never, never. And now Augusta, see 
 how easy a thing it is to make ashes of an 
 unpleasant memory, " taking the letter and 
 putting it in the flames, for a cheery fire of 
 odorous sassafras blazed upon the hearth, 
 filling the room with a delightful perfume 
 as well as a genial warmth. Few, even of 
 our most luxuriant epicures know the deli- 
 cious fragrance of a sassafras fire. It is one 
 of the luxuries that the pegbottoms, can 
 only enjoy.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 145 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ISSUE JOINED, PUMPSOLES VS. PEG- 
 BOTTOMS. 
 
 " Well, Jedge, haz ye seed the Clarion f " 
 asked Mr. Hardie, as he found the Judge, 
 with a wearied look on his countenance, sit- 
 ting in his office. 
 
 "Yes, and I am very sorry." 
 
 "Yes, hit's purty tite on me an' Abby, 
 but I reckon as David 'bout got even with 
 1m." 
 
 "It is infamous. Has your daughter 
 seen it ? " 
 
 "Yes, an' she's thest as mad as an ole 
 settin' hen. I tell's yer what's a fac', Jedge, 
 I candly b'lieve if that feller had been a thar, 
 he'd a got his hair pulled." 
 
 "It is enough to outrage all her womanly 
 feelings. " 
 
 "Yes ; but she's sorter cooled down now, 
 an' when she read the nice things as David 
 sed 'bout her, she kinder hauled in her horns 
 an' was a fixin' up ter cry when yer darter 
 came in." 
 9
 
 146 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Ah, Augusta is with her, then ?" 
 
 "Yes ; an' she's purty ashy too ; I seed hit 
 in her eyes, an' I seed hit warn't no place 
 fer a one-eyed man, so I thest slipped outen 
 the back door an' thort I'd come an' talk ter 
 you 'bout hit." 
 
 "I can only say, Mr. Hardie, that I am 
 very sorry. It was an unmanly, ill-natured 
 thing for Lawson to do, and I regret exceed- 
 ingly that he ever did it. I cannot imagine 
 why he should have stooped to such a con- 
 temptible thing." 
 
 "Well mebby he thinks as everything iz 
 fair in 'lectioneerin', same as hit iz in war. 
 An' mebby hit is too, an' we'll see zif we 
 can't feed 'im back off 'era the same nubbin'. 
 An' I 'tends ter do hit too ; I 'tends ter pitch 
 in an' see that David beats the hine-sites of- 
 fen the measly raskil, if hit takes a thou- 
 sand dollars a vote ter do hit. He went an' 
 lambasted the pegbottoms, thest fer spite, 
 an' I'll let 'im know that the pegbottoms 
 is able ter tote thay own skillit. I'm a 
 pegbottom myself, I is, an' so are- Abby, 
 an' you thest bet your sickest nigger, that 
 the pegbottoms 'ill mash sumthin' when 
 they all stomp down tergether." 
 
 "Oh, no, Mr. Hardie, we cannot afford to
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 147 
 
 employ such a disgraceful family scandal to 
 further our personal interest." 
 
 "Yes, but thar's no scaiidill 'bout hit, 
 'ceptin' them lies as he tole on Abby, an' 
 they hain't so bad, now, sense Abby splained 
 ter me 'bout the shignon, fer that's all a 
 bare neckid lie, as David can see for his- 
 self when he gits home. Thar hain't a sin- 
 gle hair 'bout Abby as hain't a shore anuff 
 hair." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I know, and so far as you and 
 Abigail are concerned, no possible reproach 
 can attach. It is the damning charge of a 
 mercenary bargain, he brings against my 
 son, that hurts." 
 
 "Yes, but that's all a lie too, an' you 
 knows hit." 
 
 " Alas, it has color of truth ; some infam- 
 ous eavesdropper must have overheard your 
 reference to your daughter's weight in gold, 
 you remember the unfortunate lapse ? " 
 
 "Yes, I did say hit, " quickly interrupting, 
 "an' I sticks ter hit. I sed Abby waz worth 
 her weight in gold, an' the man as gits her 
 will git hit with a nigger flung in with 
 every pound. An' I means thest perzactly 
 what I sez ; but I doan't means by hit that I 
 waz a buying nor a hiring your son ter take 
 her off my han's. I wanted him fer her
 
 148 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 bekaze I liked 'ira, an' I knowed they would 
 make a good match. An' as fer Abby, she 
 waz willin', kaze she wanted ter please me, 
 an' asides she waz sorter kinder stuck on 
 'im herseff. She had, unbeknowns't ter 
 him, seed 'im at the speekin' an' I seed as 
 she was a kinder hankering that way, an' 
 that was why I come ter see you, an' see if 
 we couldn't sorter fix up ter git them to- 
 gether ; I hed no noshun, Jedge ov sellin' 
 my darter, nor ov buyin' your son ; you 
 mussent think hit, sir, kaze hits a no such a 
 thing, an' yer mussent do hit." 
 
 " No, Mr. Hardie, since I have known 
 Abigail I can readily acquit you both of any 
 such design ; but I must be frank with you 
 and confess that such was my first interpre- 
 tation of your proposition. It was that, 
 sir, that caused me to repel it with such 
 scorn." 
 
 "Yes, I sees, an' I'ze afeered as David 
 thinks that way too." 
 
 "Yes ; unhappily he does, and now, I 
 fear this miserable thing will still more 
 embitter his mind against it. " 
 
 " You must tell 'im better, Jedge. You 
 must write ter him an' let 'im know. Hit 
 warn't thest ter git shet ov Abby that I 
 wanted her ter marry David. She had
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 149 
 
 plenty ov other chances. An' I'll tell ye, 
 Jedge, on the sly like," lowering his voice 
 into a confidential whisper, " but you mus- 
 sent ever let Abby know a thing about it ; 
 but this very little smarty, Tom Lawson 
 come a pea-vinin' around her an' axed 
 Abby ter marry him " 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " Yes, but he did fer a fac'. Hit was 
 thest sickening ter see the way he put on his 
 big airs around her. But, Jedge, yer orter 
 thest seed how flat she smashed him when 
 she sot down upon 'im 
 
 " Sat down upon him ? " 
 
 "Yes, mashed 'im flatener than a pan- 
 cake. No wonder he thort she waide two 
 hundred and fifty pounds." 
 
 " I do not understand ? " 
 
 " Wy kicked 'im, man. She thest ups 
 with her foot an' sent 'im a windin'. She 
 wouldent a wiped her shoe on ' im, I don't 
 care zif they is pegbottoms. I was rite 
 glad, I waz, fer I didn't like 'im at all. He 
 allers waz a whig." 
 
 " And you tell me seriously that Lawson 
 addressed your daughter ? " 
 
 " Courted Abby, yer means ? Yes, that 
 waz thest what he done, but she hed too 
 much sense ter bother long with his sort,
 
 150 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 an' she told him to go summers else, an' he 
 went, an' the verry nex' week he went an' 
 roped in the ole Widder Tuppin. An' Jedge, 
 I tells yer what hit is, it is that what's the 
 matter with Hanner. He's mad yit kaze she 
 kicked 'im, an' David hez got her, an' ter 
 pay 'em back he started them lies 'bout her 
 waying two hundred an' fifty pounds, an' 
 wearin' false hair. Why, the lyin' 'raskill 
 had mout as well a 'cused her ov havin' a 
 wooden leg, an' a glass eye. I tells yer 
 what's a fac' Jedge, I had ter talk mity saft 
 to her, to keep 'er fom bilein' over, fer az 
 shore'ze yer born, that thing sticks. You 
 may 'cuse a gurrill ov annything else, but 
 when hit comes ter 'cusing 'em ov paintin' 
 or stuffin' their buzzoms with cotton, or 
 wearin' false hair, when she don't, yer thest 
 gits yer head in a hornit's nest. He drapped 
 his tater thar, an' I 'tends ter make the 
 lyin' raskill wish he'd a bin borned dum 
 afore he ever sed it. " 
 
 "I think it best, Mr. Hardie, to drop the 
 matter where it is, as quietly as possible. " 
 
 "In course, I hain't a gwine ter make a 
 big blow about hit, but I'ze thest a gwine 
 ter move round 'mungst the pegbottoms 
 an' if we thest don't knoc' the socks off'en 
 the gentleman you may shoot me for a
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 151 
 
 'possum. I'm a gwine ter go over in Sain'- 
 Clair an' buy a pare ov pegbottom shoes 
 fer every blamed little tow-head in the 
 county an' I'll tell 'thar mammys what's its 
 for, an' ef they don't make it warm for ole 
 Miss Tuppin's little man, then I don't know 
 nuthin' 'bout 'uman nater. An' now, 
 Jedge, I wants yer to write ter David an' 
 tell 'im thest how it stands. I've bin a 
 studdyin' mity serious 'bout hit fer the last ' 
 night er so, an' I begins ter feel a little 
 jubus 'bout the way things looks. 'Splain 
 hit all ter 'im, Jedge, thest perzactly az hit 
 iz." 
 
 " I am going myself to-morrow to join 
 him. I am apprehensive of trouble between 
 them, or their friends. The personal bitter- 
 ness of the discussion will lead to a serious 
 rencontre unless it is stopped. I have seen 
 the executive committee of both parties, and 
 they agree that all further personalities 
 must be eliminated from the discussion. It 
 must be stopped or they will be shooting 
 each other's heads off. Both committees 
 have so agreed and so instructed. And as 
 for this unfortunate scandal, I sincerely 
 wish, Mr. Hardie, that you will let it rest." 
 
 " As I tells yer, I don't spect ter make a 
 blowin' horn ov it, nor to stir up a fuss, but
 
 152 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 I'm thest a gwine ter do my level best ter 
 beat this sneakin' raskill. I'm gwine ter 
 show 'im that hit ain't healthy fer a two 
 hundred and fifty-pound pegbottom ter set 
 down on a pot-stum'micked Jake like tiim. 
 Humph ! the idee ov sich a gurrill as Abby 
 wareing a passel ov tuther fokeses hair ; I 
 tells ye, Jedge, thar's whar hit hurts. " 
 
 f ' Yes ; but we who love her know that it 
 is false and can afford to laugh at it. We 
 need not care what others think. My 
 greatest anxiety now, is for David." 
 
 " Oh, never mind David ; he'll know when 
 he comes home an' fines out. Abby's all rite, 
 an' don't yer go ter botherin' David 'bout 
 her, but' thest sic' 'im on the fight. What I 
 wants is fer 'im ter wallup this Mr. Smarty. 
 Ole Munny-bags ; humph ! I'll make 'im wish 
 as he'd never hearn tell ov a munny-bag. 
 You tell David ter thest draw on the Bank 
 fer all the munny he wants, an let the ole 
 widder Tuppin see his bline if she wants ter.. 
 An now I reckon I'd best git back home an' 
 see if the gurrills is tore the house down. 
 I'm jubus that they haz. I'm glad as I 
 talked ter you, Jedge, an' be shore yer don't 
 forgit ter tell David that I never in all my 
 born days thought ov sich a thing as selling 
 my darter. Good-bye ; " and with a cordial
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 153 
 
 shake of the hands the two gentlemen 
 parted. 
 
 By sunrise the next morning Judge Win- 
 ston, in a buggy behind a spanking team, 
 was driving across the country to intercept 
 the itinerant campaigners. The canvass, 
 after sweeping the south, had swung 
 around to the western part of the district, 
 and by a hard day's driving the Judge found 
 himself at night, within easy reach of Gos- 
 port, the appointed place of meeting for the 
 next day. 
 
 After a nearly breakfast, he was on his 
 way. The gathering hosts of bronze-faced, 
 hard-handed voters, who came pouring 
 down the hills and up the valleys, by bridle- 
 path and carriage-road, filling the broad 
 highway with dust and noisy confusion, as 
 he pushed on his way, told what a lively 
 interest these rural sovereigns felt in the 
 coming election, and despite its humiliating 
 reflection, it was an encouraging sign to 
 hear the lusty slogan; "Hooray fer the 
 pegbottoms," as group met group in the 
 gathering stream. 
 
 It seemed that the sneering witticism of 
 Lawson at Phillippi, had been accepted as a 
 grave issue and instead of whiggery or de- 
 mocracy, high tariff or free trade, State's
 
 154 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 rights or centralization, the one grand, all- 
 absorbing issue upon which the fate of the 
 universe depended was pumpsole or peg- 
 bottom. The fastidious Judge felt a little 
 ashamed of the connection, but for all that 
 there was a comfortable enthusiasm in the 
 boisterous unanimity of the pegbottom 
 huzza. 
 
 When he arrived at the court-house he 
 found his son busied with the county ex- 
 ecutive committee. After the introduction 
 and exchange of friendly civilities, the matter 
 of the canvass was resumed. 
 
 " I tell you what it is, boys ; we have got 
 them on the hip. This thing takes like hot 
 cakes and is spreading like wild-fire. Three 
 days ago it was all the other way ; as I 
 wrote you, Winston, I should have been will- 
 ing to give them three hundred majority, in 
 this county, but they only laughed at the 
 concession ; nothing short of four hundred 
 would satisfy them, but now the thing has 
 turned and they are the sickest roosters you 
 ever saw. We will carry the county, 
 without a doubt. You see, old man Hardie 
 was one of the pioneers of this county, and 
 was married upon Hurricane, and he has 
 always stuck to his people. There is not a 
 church in the county, nor school-house
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 155 
 
 either that he did not help to build ; even 
 the church we speak in to-day was largely 
 paid for by him." 
 
 " Yes," spoke in another, " and last year 
 when the frost destroyed all the wheat he 
 sent hundreds of bushels of seed for the 
 poor. They all know him and they will all, 
 to a man, vote for you, whigs, though they 
 be." 
 
 "Yes, the pegbottoms are on top and 
 don't you forget it !" burst in another, " only 
 listen now," turning and raising the win- 
 dow. " There comes the Hurricane delega- 
 tion now ; all solid pegbottoms and yet 
 Hurricane is the strongest whig beat in the 
 county ! Listen ! ' Hurray f er the peg- 
 bottom ! ' Ah ! boys, we are solid. Lawson 
 dropped his candy when he tackled the peg- 
 bottoms. Winston, you must ride him on 
 that to-day." 
 
 " Ah, no ! I cannot do such a thing. It 
 is too humiliating. I wish the whole thing 
 could be wiped out," answered the young 
 man with a flush of shame. 
 
 ' ' Well, I don't. It's the luckiest thing that 
 ever happened for you, and for us. It 
 elects you most assuredly, and I think we 
 can hold them on the county ticket." 
 
 "I think that quite likely; but I had 
 rather been beaten than to have had this
 
 156 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 iron thrust in my soul ; and if you please, 
 gentlemen, we will dismiss it. You must not 
 expect me to employ such a reproachful 
 argument ; to parade my own infamy as a 
 badge of martyrdom," he answered, firmly. 
 
 "Of course you need not refer to your 
 own connection ; but you just curry down 
 the pegbottoms. To be sure it would be in 
 bad taste for you to allude to your family 
 affairs, but you can let them know what a 
 dignity there is in labor, and what a glori- 
 ous thing it is to be a free, independent, 
 horny-handed pegbottom." 
 
 "That I shall do, and do it conscientiously 
 as I have always done, for all my sym- 
 pathies are really with the rural workers of 
 the land, not the bread-winners only, but the 
 bread-makers, as well ; and I think, gentle- 
 men, without affectation, that I should be 
 willing to exchange places with the most de- 
 spised one of them all, who may hear me to- 
 day." 
 
 "Very well; you just do that. Sugar- 
 coat the rural sovereign from stem to stern, 
 and let Lawson spout as much as he pleases 
 about the esoteric principles of constitu- 
 tional law ; the ancient glories of Greece and 
 Rome, of Hannibal and of Julius Caesar, of 
 Cromwell and of Napoleon, these fellows
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 157 
 
 don't care a fiddler's cuss about such things ; 
 but you just come down to ' craps ' and 
 colts, and the nice little cottage with the 
 smoke so gracefully curling, and a fire full 
 of yam 'taters,' then you strike a tender 
 chord that always responds." 
 
 " Yes ! that is legitimate, and I shall use 
 it," answered Winston, and the caucus was 
 ended. 
 
 But while this, the democratic caucus was 
 in such harmonious and satisfactory session, 
 Lawson was closeted with his own com- 
 mittee, uneasily discussing the gravity of 
 the situation. 
 
 "Yes! I made a mistake," he confessed, 
 with a grin, after the damaging effect of his 
 laches had been laid before him, with its im- 
 pending consequences. " It was a mistake ; 
 but the infernal fools didn't understand 
 my meaning. It wasn't at the pegbottoms, 
 the girl and her parvenue father, I was 
 striking, but at this aristocratic 'kid, the 
 pumpsoled exquisite, who, for the sake of 
 the woman's gold, stooped to marry her." 
 
 "Yes, but you ought to have known that 
 you could not strike one without hitting the 
 other," said one of his committee-men. 
 
 "So I see now. But what is best to be 
 done ? "
 
 158 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Well ! you'll have to eat a little humble 
 pie ; soft-solder the pegbottoms and apolo- 
 gize to the girl's people. Smooth it over 
 the best way possible. You know how it 
 can be done. The Hardies are mighty 
 strong in this county, and old Israel is im- 
 mensely popular. He was born here, you 
 know ! and there is hardly a poor man in the 
 county who has not tasted his bounty. That 
 is the best plan, I think ; smooth it over 
 with the Hardies and the Sneads, and then 
 curry the pegbottoms." 
 
 "Yes," added another, "if I was you I 
 should get a pair of the coarsest-thickest 
 soled pegbottoms that I could find and cock 
 my feet on the stand as high as my legs 
 would reach. We are licked like a sack if 
 you don't. I know fifty votes in my own 
 beat that you have lost." 
 
 "That is bad, and I am truly sorry," and 
 with this the unsatisfactory conference was 
 ended. 
 
 It was again Winston's turn to open the 
 discussion, and Esquire Wheeler, the florid 
 chairman of the democratic executive com- 
 mittee, introduced him with effusive gusto, 
 the audience fairly lifting the rafters with 
 the swell of a mighty roar, as he concluded 
 by saying :
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 159 
 
 " He comes as a stranger to the most of 
 us, but it is almost to his own home, and as 
 a kinsman that he comes, for it is to the 
 ever open hand and ready bounty of his 
 father-in-law, that good old pegbottom, 
 Israel Hardie, whom you all know, that we 
 owe this very house in which we sit. Let 
 us welcome him, then, as one of us, to the 
 manor born." 
 
 The young man arose, and gracefully 
 bowing his acknowledgments, waited a few 
 moments for the redoubled applause to 
 cease, and then he said : 
 
 "I must thank you, my fellow-citizens, 
 for the unmistakable cordiality of your wel- 
 come. I must thank you also for the hearty 
 response to the reference my friend made to 
 the name of your former fellow-citizen, Mr. 
 Hardie, " (applause and vociferous hurrays for 
 the pegbottoms.) " But while sharing with 
 you, your high appreciation of that gentle- 
 man's worth, I must repudiate all claim to 
 your kindness, based upon my connection 
 with him or his family. I solicit your 
 friendship and support upon my own merits." 
 (Applause and a voice : "That's right, every 
 tub on hits own bottom, specially if hits a 
 pegbottom.") "Yes, that's the way, my 
 friends, I prefer to stand." (Hooray for
 
 160 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 the pegbottoms ! ) And waiting again for the 
 noise to subside, he plunged at once into his 
 argument, warming up to his work as he 
 went, and finally concluding with a burst of 
 eloquence that fairly set his audience wild 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 Lawson followed. It was plain to be seen 
 that he was badly hacked. With a sickly 
 grace he began : 
 
 " I have just received from the chairman 
 of the congressional committee, a request 
 that is so consonant with my own feelings, 
 that I shall cheerfully adopt it. It is the 
 request that in future all irrelevant person- 
 alities be eliminated from our joint discus- 
 sions. As I say, the request is so much in 
 harmony with my own inclinations, that I 
 shall cheerfully accede to it, but before I 
 cut myself entirely off from the privilege, I 
 find myself constrained to make a personal 
 explanation. A few days ago, betrayed by 
 the acerbities of debate, and while smarting 
 under the knout of satire, which my honor- 
 able opponent knows so well how to wield, 
 I made an unfortunate allusion to the social 
 standing, and to the family, of a gentleman, 
 who, though nameless then, and who shall 
 be nameless now, should not have been re- 
 ferred to at all. The remarks were made in
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 161 
 
 a spirit of pleasantry, but they were unjust 
 to the gentleman, who appropriated them, as 
 they were unjust and discourteous to his 
 excellent daughter. I have too high an 
 opinion of the character of the man and of 
 the sterling worth of the class to which he 
 belongs, and which he so worthily represents, 
 to have willfully aspersed the one or belit- 
 tled the other ; and I beg now, to thus pub- 
 licly retract every word I then said which 
 may be construed into a reflection upon the 
 integrity of his character, or the respecta- 
 bility of his daughter. This I do, my fellow- 
 citizens, of my own volition and without the 
 knowledge of my opponent, who so seriously 
 regarded the little bit of badinage, as per- 
 haps applied to himself." 
 
 And thus having eaten his little bit of hum- 
 ble pie, he proceeded to curry the pegbot- 
 toms in the most approved style. 
 
 But the pegbottoms were disposed to be 
 mulish and save the racket kept up by his 
 claqueurs, his speech was received in sullen 
 silence. 
 
 It was not until the speaking was over, 
 and they had had their dinner that the Judge 
 could find a fifteen minutes, privacy with his 
 son. 
 
 "I think, David, that I can safely con-
 
 162 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 gratulate you upon your election. This sur- 
 prising turn of affairs has done it." 
 
 "Yes, I feel very secure, and I do not 
 know whether to laugh or to cry over it. 
 To owe my exultation, to such an abase- 
 ment ! Was there ever a more tantalizing 
 irony of fortune ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is strange ; but it is not upon 
 your political prospects that you are to be 
 congratulated. You have the sweetest 
 woman in all the world for a wife. " 
 
 " That can only humiliate me the more." 
 
 " No ; she is worthy the love of any man, 
 of the best of men." 
 
 " That puts us the further apart." 
 
 " Why should it?" 
 
 "If she is worthy a good man, I am not 
 worthy of her. Her worth completes the 
 measure of my own unworthiness. Father, 
 I am very sorry, but I have quite resolved 
 never to see her again." 
 
 "No ! that would be cowardly, unmanly, 
 cruel ! It would be adding insult to injury, 
 to strike the woman you have already 
 wounded." 
 
 " The wound cannot be deep ; her pride, or 
 vanity rather, might possibly be hurt, but 
 her affections can hardly be touched. She 
 cannot be a woman of any sensibility, or she
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 163 
 
 never would have married as she did. But 
 we need not discuss it. I am quite deter- 
 mined. You can take her home and keep 
 her in countenance, if you will. To avoid 
 tlie ruinous effect of a scandal, perhaps it 
 would be best for you to do so, only it will 
 be a grave injustice to inflict her upon my 
 poor sister. But as for me, I must avoid 
 her as a man should avoid a lurking tempta- 
 tion to commit murder. I must despise her 
 as long as I live, or else I must despise my- 
 self." 
 
 " This is very wicked, David, and very 
 foolish." 
 
 " Wicked it may be, but not foolish. It 
 is the logical conclusion of a well-considered 
 proposition. It was wicked to marry her, 
 but the unfortunate extremity of our affairs 
 dictated its wisdom. It may be wicked to 
 abandon her, but my own self-respect 
 demands it. Were there no other alterna- 
 tive, I should be tempted to strangle her, or 
 else to hang myself. Is it folly to avoid such 
 a temptation ? " 
 
 " But you do not, you cannot realize all 
 that she is. She is not what you think." 
 
 " Let her be what she may, or even more ; 
 were she an angel itself, it could not be dif- 
 ferent. The fairer she is, the fouler I must
 
 164 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 necessarily be. That is the whole of it. 
 Were it not that I wish to put my heel upon 
 the neck of this fellow Lawson, the 
 cowardly cur who insulted her, I should 
 withdraw from the canvass, and quit the 
 country at once and forever ; but as it is, I 
 shall stay to triumph over his malice and in 
 the mad whirl of politics at Washington, I 
 shall try to forget who and what I am, 
 leaving her free to do as she pleases with- 
 out responsibility to me. Perhaps when she 
 tires of the false position into which she has 
 been lifted by her father's gold, she will 
 apply for a divorce, and sinking back to her 
 proper level she may find a man who would 
 not have to despise himself to respect her." 
 
 "I am sorry to have to, listen to such as 
 this from you." 
 
 " I, too, am sorry to have to speak it, but 
 such are my feelings. I would not have to 
 endure again another five minutes of the 
 humiliating sense of debauched manhood 
 that I experienced that day in her presence, 
 for a lustrum of the happiest years that can 
 be crowded in a human life. I felt, then, 
 how utterly impossible it would, be for us 
 two to ever be any other than strangers to 
 each other. I hope Augusta is well ; poor 
 sister ; I left her sadly upset."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 165 
 
 "Augusta is well," answered his father 
 a little coldly. ' ' But I am taking too much 
 of your valuable time. You should be out 
 among the people." 
 
 "Shaking hands with my new relations," 
 laughed David, and both, glad of the diver- 
 sion, went out to mingle with the throng 
 that still lingered in the town. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DRIFTING APART. 
 
 THE next day at Clinton, David Winston 
 received his mail. Crushed out of shape in 
 the midst of a mass of political correspon- 
 dence, inquiries, suggestions, instructions, 
 committee reports, 
 
 " And other brilliant matters of the sort," 
 
 he found a letter from his gentle sister 
 Augusta. It was dated, and read as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " HOME, October 28, 1854. 
 
 " MY DEAREST BROTHER DAVE : I suppose that you 
 have seen the Clarion, with all that wretched stuff in it, 
 Why didn't you horsewhip that cowardly fellow ?
 
 166 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " I have just come from Grace; I slept with her last night, 
 and she is the sweetest girl in all the wide, wide world. I 
 went to her as soon as I saw it; I somehow felt that we 
 were the cause of it all, and I wanted to get down on my 
 knees and ask her forgiveness for the insult that man had 
 put upon her. I found her much more amiable than I 
 could have been, had it been me and Walter the wretched 
 dog had slandered. She had read it before I got there, and 
 had recovered from her first hurt. Of course she was 
 angry still, as she had the right to be, for it was a cruel 
 thing for a sensitive girl to have to bear. But she bore 
 it bravely; and, what is strange, she didn't seem to mind 
 it at all for herself. It was only that she thought it 
 would hurt you, that she cared. ' Ah,' she said, and I just 
 wish you could have seen her as she said it ; it was 
 really tragic, ' ah, that the wretch should try to hurt him ! 
 She calls you him and he, she seems afraid to call you 
 David, or dear, or husband, it is only him and he, and 
 there is a world of feeling in her voice as she says it. 
 ' Ah, that the wretch should try to wound him through 
 mo ; I, who would gladly give my right arm to shield him 
 from the least harm.' It was really pretty; Ristori her- 
 self could not have surpassed it, and I know that she meant 
 it every word, for her eyes fairly sparkled; but then she 
 brightened up a little when I told her no, it was her whom 
 the wretch intended to strike, and you ought to have seen 
 how proudly she drew herself up, and what a pretty scorn 
 was on her lip, as she said: 'The creature's spite could 
 never touch me.' And then, last night when we were fix- 
 ing for. bed, and Xanny, her girl, took down her hair, she 
 laughed and said: 'Look here, Augusta, what do you 
 suppose Mrs. Lawson would give for such a chignon ? ' 
 and she really has the most beautiful hair I ever saw, just 
 as fine and flossy as silk, and comes down to her knees. 
 You know that I am proud of my own hair, but I would 
 give the world if I only had hers. But now, Brother 
 Pave, I must tell you all about her, for I never was so sur-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 167 
 
 prised before in all my life as I was when I first saw her, 
 for instead of the awkward, gawky fright I expected to 
 see, I found her the sweetest girl I ever met in all my life. 
 Well, you know that you left me that morning sadly in the 
 mullygrubs (I reckon I have spelled it right, but I can't 
 find it in the dictionary), I cried myself quite sick and was 
 utterly miserable when father came back from the wedding 
 and asked me to go with him to see her. I couldn't bear 
 the idea, and positively refused to go, when he got real 
 angry, and peremptorily commanded me to go: and I had 
 to go, which I did just as I was, all frowsled up as you teft 
 me, only I had cried my eyes all red and bloated. But when 
 we got there and found everything so splendidly elegant, 
 and in the presence of such a queenly looking lady, I felt 
 like sinking through the floor, and when I further saw that 
 my shabbiness hurt her, I just couldn' t stand it, and with- 
 out going in the parlor I begged her to excuse me and I 
 drove back home just as fast as Jake could whip up the 
 horses, to dress and go back to her. Well, I dressed and 
 went back, and she received me so kindly and so sweetly 
 that my heart went out to her completely at once, and now 
 if she was my very own flesh-and-blood twin-sister, I could 
 not love her any better than I do, 
 
 " We stayed all day, and had a magnificent dinner, as fine 
 as the governor gave last month, when Ida was married ; 
 and wasn't it funny ? we hail it all to ourselves, just we 
 three, father, Grace and myself, when there was enough 
 for a hundred. You may imagine, though, what a feast 
 the darkies had. And then she told me all about the 
 wedding, and how frightened she was that you might not 
 come ; and showed me where you two stood under the 
 roses ; and she gave me a cluster of rose-buds from the 
 bell wasn't it a beautiful bell ? I want just such a one 
 when I marry and she wanted to pin one to your coat 
 the sweetest one she could find, she said but was afraid, 
 so I send one in this for you ; you must wear it for her 
 sake, and let her see it when you come, it will do her so
 
 168 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 much good, for she has the nicest of feelings, and I know 
 she loves you with all her heart, and she has a sweet and 
 tender heart ; and oh, Brother Dave, I must ask you to 
 lorgive me for speaking so shamefully of her to you, that 
 morning ; please forgive me, for I did not know then what 
 a true lady and sweet girl she was. And, brother, I should 
 like to tell you something the most surprising thing you 
 ever could imagine, only I promised her upon my life that I 
 wouldn't never tell, and so I can't, but if that wretch 
 should ever say anything more about her, you just ask him 
 if he ever courted a certain young lady, and got ingloriously 
 kicked. He can't deny it, for she showed me the letter 
 itself ; and you just ought to have seen the look of supreme 
 contempt on her face as she put it in the fire and burned it 
 up. She don't want you ever to know, or I would tell you 
 all about it, but I promised her that I wouldn't ever breathe 
 it to a mortal soul, so I can't. She is somehow afraid that 
 you might not like it, but you should not care, as she n ally 
 despised the fellow's offer. It was the most conceited letter 
 you ever read, and the next week he went and married the 
 old Widow Turpin. No wonder he hates Grace, and hates 
 you for marrying her. But this letter is long enough, 
 already ; I only write in a hurry to beg your forgiveness 
 and to send you my sisterly congratulations. I am willing 
 to divide your love with Grace, but I don't want you to give 
 it quite all to her. 
 
 " Your affectionate sister, 
 
 " AUGUSTA. 
 
 "P.S. I must tell you, all the young men here are for 
 you ; they have formed a PEGBOTTOM club, and are all 
 wearing pegbottom boots. I was a little ashamed at first, 
 but Walter says I need not mind it ; that he didn't care 
 for it a bit, and now I do not. He has got a pair of peg- 
 bottoms, too, and says that Lawson lost his trick when he 
 played that card, and that now he is bound to be euchred. 
 I do hope it is so, and that you will beat him, as much for
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 169 
 
 her sake as for your own. She would think that she was 
 the cause of your defeat, and it would kill her. Bye-bye. 
 
 " GUSSIE. 
 
 " P.S. again. But the funniest thing of all is the old 
 gentleman, her father, buying a pair of shoes for all the 
 pegbottom women and children in St. Glair county, and 
 sending them to the democratic executive committee of that 
 county to be distributed out to them. 
 
 " Walter says it is the best campaign trick he ever saw. 
 He bought five hundred pairs, and Walter says that every 
 pair is good for a vote, and besides the poor children 
 need them this cold w r eather. I think it real good in the 
 old man, don't you? But then he will do anything for 
 Grace. Gus. 
 
 "Nota Bcna. I have begged Grace to come home with me, 
 but she will not. I know that she wants to come though 
 by the wistful look in her eyes when she said no. She 
 never said why, but I know she is waiting for you to come 
 and fetch her, so you must hurry up and get through with 
 the election and bring her home ; I do so long to kiss her 
 
 welcome. 
 
 " Your loving sister, 
 
 " AUGUSTA V. WINSTON." 
 
 It would have been a difficult psycho- 
 logical operation to have analyzed David 
 Winston's feelings, as he read this letter. 
 The warm terms of admiring approval in 
 which his father had spoken, the day before, 
 of her, the wife of whom he knew so little, 
 had been taken with a large grain of salt. 
 Being himself accessory to, if not particeps 
 crimines, in the humiliating bargain, by 
 which he bartered his manhood for sordid
 
 170 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 gold, it was but natural, he thought, that 
 his father should try to make the best of the 
 dicker, by presenting the brightest side of 
 the young lady's picture. But here, in the 
 unaffected enthusiasm of a truthful and 
 loving sister, he found testimony that could 
 not be questioned. She had protested in 
 indignant scorn against the marriage ; all 
 her womanly pride and her womanly prej- 
 udice had been arrayed against the wo- 
 man he married, and now she was the 
 first to come with paeans of praise to the 
 beauty and grace and sweetness of the 
 bride. His own senses, too, began to arouse 
 in corroborative energy. Visions of her 
 loveliness, glimpses of which he had caught 
 even through the nigrescent cloud of dis- 
 gust and loathing that had so cruelly 
 blinded him on that unhappy morning, had 
 been, despite his efforts to shut them out, 
 continually floating before his inner sight, 
 like angel Sittings in a dream. Try as he 
 might to dismiss them as distempered illu- 
 sions, they would still haunt his senses, and 
 he had to despise himself for unconsciously 
 blessing the radiant presence. And now his 
 sister's enthusiastic tribute to the loveli- 
 ness which he had felt rather than seen 
 strangely touched him.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 171 
 
 For a moment he felt a lifting up of soul, 
 a strange thrill of gladness and of pride 
 shooting through his being, and tenderly 
 taking the little rosebud, now withered and 
 flattened out of all shape, but fragrant still, 
 he unconsciously kissed it and lovingly put it 
 away in his pocket-book, and softly he whis- 
 pered her name, when in a flash, like the sharp 
 plunge of a dagger in his heart, came the 
 damning sense of his own unworthiness, the 
 pitiful meanness by which he must claim a 
 lordly possession of all this sweetness. 
 
 "My God, this is horrible !" he cried, the 
 very reverence he began to feel for the lady 
 exaggerating the contempt he felt for him- 
 self. " I must put this away, or it will 
 drive me mad. How could I do such a des- 
 picable thing ! But it must be undone ; 
 such an iniquity must not be permitted to 
 stand. I must write to her now, before the 
 delusion becomes a reality to her, and tell 
 her how utterly impossible it will ever be for 
 us two to be anything but strangers to each 
 other. And yet and yet it would be very 
 sweet for me to look in her face and tell her 
 how much I wish I was not so wholly unfit 
 to stand in her presence. But I cannot ; her 
 truth would palsy my tongue with the poi- 
 son of its lie."
 
 172 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 And then, as if indicting a renunciation of 
 all claim and hope or expectation to a place 
 in heaven, he wrote : 
 
 " MRS. WINSTON : My father and my sister have both 
 told ine how sadly I have misunderstood you, and with the 
 knowledge comes the humiliating conviction of how cruelly 
 I have wronged you. I would gladly die to undo the 
 wrong, but as I lack the courage of Judas, the only possi- 
 ble atonement left for me to make is to banish myself from 
 the heaven it would be a pollution for me to enter. You 
 can understand what a dishonorable thing it was for mo to 
 marry you as I did, and so understanding you must know 
 what a debasing thing it will ever be for me to stand in your 
 presence again. Under the icy shadow of such a humilia- 
 tion it would be impossible for the seeds of even a conven- 
 tional affection to fructify. It would be folly, then nay, 
 worse than folly it would be an additional crime against 
 your happiness for me to attempt to plant them ; and cruel 
 as it may seem, and painful as it is to me, I write this to 
 absolve you from all further sense of duty or affection to 
 me, and to ask you to put aside, as an unwomanly reproach, 
 all further thought or interest in my being. I trust that it 
 may not pain you to do this. I shall see to it that society 
 must hold me entirely responsible for any scandal that may 
 grow out of the separation by assuming for myself all 
 blame, and by availing myself of the first occasion to pro- 
 claim to the world the innocence which is yours, and the 
 infamy which is mine. 
 
 "If you understand me, I have written enough; and, 
 with a reverence I am too vile to speak, I bid you a sad fare- 
 well. 
 
 "D. R. WINSTON." 
 
 Carefully folding the letter, he addressed 
 it, and then, fearful that his purpose might
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 173 
 
 fail, he hurried to the village post-office and 
 mailed it. Then he came back to his room 
 and wrote to his sister : 
 
 " MY SWEET SISTER : Tour pleasant letter is received, 
 and my heart blesses you for the goodness that inspired it. 
 The knowledge of Miss Hardie's worth comes too late. 
 Had I known her before I debauched my manhood I should 
 have sought to win her, but now she is all too pure and 
 good for me, and I have just written her that she may 
 never expect to see my face again. I shall avoid her as the 
 vampire shuns the light which guards the couch of sleeping 
 innocence. We are too far apart in moral worth to ever be 
 nearer in affection ; I should feel it a sacrilege on my part 
 to venture to kiss even her finger-tips. It was a sad thing 
 I had to write, and no one may ever know the pain it cost 
 me to write it, but I feel that my punishment is just, and I 
 may not complain. If it does not hurt her too much, I 
 shall be content to bear it all. 
 
 " I have not the heart to write more now, but will write 
 you again when I am in a better mood. I may not dictate 
 your associations, but it may be wise for you to avoid her. 
 The association cannot, I opine, be otherwise than embar- 
 rassing to you both. I thank you for the rose, and shall 
 keep it always. Your loving brother, 
 
 "DAVID R. WINSTON." 
 
 The mails, in those days, were mostly car- 
 ried across the country in hacks, and were 
 more slow in transit than they are now in 
 this age of steam. But all slowly as they 
 moved, they brought their sad, sad freight 
 of disappointment and sorrow and misery all 
 too soon to the gentle heart which leaped in
 
 174 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 such glad expectancy as she recognized the 
 already familiar hand in which it was ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 Ah ! a letter for me, and from him ; yes, 
 it is from him and for me, all for me ! " 
 And in a flutter of maiden coyness she 
 blushed for her eagerness, and seizing the 
 letter she ran up to her room, that no one 
 might see the gladness that thrilled her. 
 
 Tenderly she opened it, and tenderly she 
 kissed the dear name, softly murmuring : 
 "Ah, sweetheart, sweetheart!" and then, 
 kissing it again, she read. 
 
 Her eyes first opened with a dim surprise, 
 and then dilated with a startled look of fear, 
 and then they dropped, pathetic as a stricken 
 fawn's in mortal agony, as it all came to her 
 what it meant. 
 
 He had indeed written enough; she did 
 understand, and if the crucifixion of a mortal 
 hope could have paralyzed a human heart, 
 her heart would have ceased to beat. All 
 her newly-found gladness, which she had 
 nursed into such a beautiful joy, gone like a 
 breath ; all her new-born hopes which had so 
 suddenly blossomed into living, breathing 
 actualities, the sweetest, and dearest part of 
 her own being, vanished like a midsummer 
 morning's dream. He, the idol of her newly-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 175 
 
 awakened adoration, the man whom her 
 reverential affection had apotheosized into 
 a god, had crumbled into dust, and all that 
 was left of the fond foolish dream was only 
 this, a white sheet of paper, blackened and 
 bristling with lines that glared and stung 
 like adders. 
 
 For a moment she stood, as if mentally 
 burying her beautiful dead, and then she 
 gathered courage to write, for Grace 
 Winston, Abigail no more, for David was 
 dead to her, and Abigail must no longer be 
 sweet. Grace Winston was a woman whose 
 courage was as strong as her beauty was 
 rare. Not a tremor of nerve broke the 
 even, graceful sweep of her pen as she 
 wrote : 
 
 " MY DEAR MB. WINSTON : I have read your letter, 
 and I do understand. It is very sad, but thinking as you 
 do, perhaps it is best. It was very foolish in me to build 
 such pleasant hopes upon what nay sober reason should 
 have told me was a chimerical impossibility, and I must 
 thank you for putting an end to them, at once and forever. 
 I may not blame you, and I very willingly absolve you from 
 all further interest in my life. You need not even concern 
 yourself on my account for any scandal that may grow out 
 of the separation. My position in society is not such at 
 to subject my goings to that supersensitive deference to its 
 criticisms, that one ' to the manor born ' may be expected 
 to feel. My womanly honor cannot be assailed, and now 
 I am perfectly indifferent to all things else. Should you
 
 176 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 take any steps in the matter, at all, let them be only such 
 as will protect your own reputation, and best advance your 
 own interest. If a legal annulment of the ceremony I 
 cannot call it a marriage should suggest itself to your in- 
 terest, you have my consent to institute suit, whenever, in 
 your judgment, it is necessary. I shall interpose no defense. 
 I return you the two letters, all that I have from you. I do 
 not return the wedding-ring, because it was my mother's. I 
 shall, however, discard it from my hand and put it away, 
 where its sight may not be a reminder of the mockery it 
 commemorates. The name you gave me, and by which you 
 last addressed me, 1 suppose I will have to retain until 
 legal steps are taken to divest me of it ? 
 
 " Wishing you a happy realization of all your political 
 hopes, and the fullest measure of success in all your under- 
 takings, I shall ever remain, 
 
 Your sincere friend and well-wisher, 
 
 "GKACE HABDIE WINSTON." 
 
 "And now," she said, as she sealed and 
 addressed it, "I must break it to father. 
 I must not let him see that it hurts me so. 
 Ah, poor father! he did this for him as much 
 as for me," and gathering all her courage 
 she went down to her father. 
 
 His quick, loving glance detected the 
 trouble she so- bravely tried to hide, and he 
 asked : 
 
 " Was yer letter from David ? " 
 
 "Yes, it was from him; and I must tell 
 you, father, and you must not let it trouble 
 you, for I am quite sure that it is all for the 
 best. He thinks that a marriage such as
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 177 
 
 ours, so mercenary, so unholy and unloving, 
 cannot not be right in the sight of God, and 
 -and- 
 
 " He wants ter renig?" interrupted the 
 old man. 
 
 "He wishes to release me," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 "I wouldn't 'a' thort that ov David." 
 
 "But it is best, father. I am quite sure 
 that it is best." 
 
 "Well! well! meb-by hit is. An' if it 
 don't hurt you, Abby, if you kin stand it I 
 kin, only I'ze monstus sorry fer David." 
 
 "Yes, it is hard upon him too." 
 
 " Yes, an' the Jedge. Hit's mity bad. But 
 sense I come ter think about hit, I mout a 
 knowed hit. You kin tie a hen on a nest 
 but yer can't make her lay. I wonder 
 though zif hit's all along 'bout these tales as 
 Lawson's been a telling on you as makes him 
 kick ? 'Bout yer wearin' false hair, Abby ? 
 Shorely David is got more sense than ter 
 believe such a yarn as that ! An' asides, if 
 yer did ware it, what would that hurt zif 
 yer tuck it off at night. Don't all the tippy- 
 bobs wear 'em ? an' as fer his wife, ole Miss 
 Tuppin, I'll lay a coon -skin that the top ov 
 her head iz as slick as a peeled ingern." 
 
 Oh! it was not that, father. I think 
 12
 
 178 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 that I understand him better than that. 
 It was because because oh ! I cannot 
 explain it to you, father, as I feel it, 
 and as I am sure he feels it. And, father, he 
 is right, and you must not blame him so 
 much. I am sure that if you were in his 
 place that you would do as he has done." 
 
 " Mebby so. I thinks as how I sees hit as 
 it iz. David thinks thest as his daddy thort, 
 as how I had sold you ter him ; an' that I 
 had hired him ter marry you. An' that's 
 how this hocky tale started 'bout yer waite 
 in gold 
 
 11 1 do not understand ? " 
 
 " Well, hold on a minnit an' I will 'splain. 
 Yer see we waz a talking in thar office, an' 
 some eavesdropper must 'a' hearn us, an' 
 David sed as he wouldn't marry no 'umman 
 on God's green yeath for her waite in gold, 
 an' I sez, sez I, Abby is worth her waite 
 in gold, an' the man as got her will git 
 it too, with a nigger flung in with every 
 pound 
 
 " Oh, father ! " with a cry of pain. 
 
 "Yes, but I didn't go ter mean that I'd 
 give him yer waite in gold, thest ter marry 
 you. I wouldn't agin no man that. I thest 
 meant as the man as was lucky enuff ter get 
 you would git a fortin' flung in, an' I'd a
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 179 
 
 heap ruther that David Winston had a got 
 you than any other chap in all creation. 
 That's what I meant, hunny." 
 
 " I see it all now, father, and I understand. 
 You intended it for our mutual good, 
 and it was good in you to do it, but it has 
 been a mistake a sad mistake. He feels 
 the dishonor, and it will kill us both to to 
 
 "Try ter hide it," interrupting the stam- 
 mering effort. "Well, mebby hit would. 
 Sich things can't well be hid. The skellitin 
 in the closet iz allers a tumlin' out an' allers 
 a grinnin'. But, hunny," brightening up a 
 little, "I'z glad ter see that yer don't mine 
 hit so bad ?" 
 
 "Yes, it is better now, before I had 
 learned to love him too dearly," with the 
 ghost of a smile. 
 
 "Yes, that's so. But, Abby, I tends ter 
 stick ter David, tell the 'lection's over, anny- 
 how. I thest wants him ter knock the 
 stufifin' outen Tom Lawson." 
 
 "And I shall want you to stick to him 
 always, father." 
 
 "I shall that, kaze I sees yer wants me 
 to. I wonder zif I had better see the Jedge, 
 an' see zif he's got annything to say 'bout 
 it!"
 
 180 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Oh ! no, no ! Whatever is said or done, 
 leave it for them to do. Please do not let 
 us interfere. Leave it all with them, 
 father." 
 
 " But I thinks the Jedge likes you." 
 
 "I am very sure that ho does, and for 
 that assurance I am willing to trust him." 
 
 "Very well, then, I'll thest be tolled by 
 you, Abby, seein' as what a purty mess I've 
 already made ov it. Ole fokes had better 
 mine an' keep thay fingers outen young 
 folks' pies. I've found that out." 
 
 " Oh, no ! You intended it for my good, 
 father, and I shall always bless you for your 
 goodness. But now we will put it all 
 away." 
 
 "Yes, what can't be cured must be en- 
 dured, an' we'll thest heve ter grin an' bear 
 it, so : 
 
 " ' Molly put the kettle on, 
 
 Jinny blow the bellus strong,'" 
 
 he broke out in a heroic effort to silence his 
 disappointment in a song. 
 
 That same afternoon Augusta came. She 
 saw at a glance in the sorrowing eye that 
 her brother's cruel arrow had sped home to 
 the bleeding heart. 
 
 "I came to see if you had heard from my
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 181 
 
 brother ? " she asked, after silent kisses had 
 been exchanged. 
 
 "Yes, I have heard." 
 
 " And have you answered ? " 
 
 "Yes, I have answered. All is over be- 
 tween us." 
 
 " Please tell me ? " with the tears coming 
 up. 
 
 "I simply told him that in considering 
 what was best to "be done, he did well to put 
 all thought of me and mine out of the ques- 
 tion." 
 
 " Oh, why did you not hold him loyal to 
 his duty?" 
 
 "Because I hold his happiness dearer to 
 my heart than I do my own. It was a sad 
 mistake he made, and I cannot let its shadow 
 darken all of the future of his life. Oh ! 
 he may yet have great things before him, 
 fame, and honor and glory, and, mayhap, 
 at the last a life of love and of happiness, 
 while I I I am only a woman. It must 
 not matter for me. I am not known only 
 as the despised daughter of the old parvenu. 
 I can go away and no one need to care. 
 It has been one of the most pleasing fancies 
 of my girlhood to travel abroad ; to see some 
 of the cities and castles and grand old ca- 
 thedrals of which I had read such wonderful
 
 182 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 stories when a child. Before this this 
 sorrow came, I was preparing to go this 
 winter ; a friend one of my school-girl 
 friends, now married, a Mrs. Whiting of 
 Charleston, she with her husband and sister, 
 are going this winter, and I had arranged 
 to go with them. Mr. Whiting is a cotton 
 merchant and has a branch house in Liver- 
 pool, and he goes over to look after his 
 interests there until spring, when the tour 
 of the Continent is to be made. They sail on 
 the second, and father says I may go with 
 them. I have just telegraphed Mrs. Whit- 
 ing that I will join them. I start this even- 
 ing by the eight o'clock train. Mrs. Grundy 
 will of course think it very naughty in me 
 to run away and leave my husband so soon 
 after marriage, but then nothing better 
 could have been expected from such a mesal- 
 liance, and Mrs. Grundy will find in the 
 circumstance a splendid chance to point a 
 moral. Mrs. Grundy, you know, must have 
 something to wonder at, and her wonder 
 will affect me less than any other woman 
 in the world. You must let her wonder, 
 Augusta, only please, do not you think 
 me utterly and hopelessly bad," and break- 
 ing down in a sob she held out her arms 
 in a piteous appeal to the lady.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 183 
 
 The yearning appeal was met by a sisterly 
 clasp of arms about her neck, and between 
 sobs and kisses she answered : 
 
 " Oh, darling, darling ! I shall not think 
 you anything but the dearest, best and 
 sweetest girl in all the world, and I intend 
 to love you as my sister always, I do not care 
 what brother Dave may say." 
 
 "Oh!" with a jealous start, "does he 
 say that you must not love me ? " 
 
 " He is mean enough to say anything, but 
 I do not intend to mind. I shall love you, 
 even if I have to choose between you, dar- 
 ling, and him. Oh, you need not push me 
 away. I do love you, and I intend to love 
 you in spite of them all," passionately cling- 
 ing to her neck. 
 
 " No, no, blood is thicker than water," 
 firmly putting her away. " It would pain me 
 to know that I stood between you and your 
 brother. I shall soon be gone and you must 
 learn to forget me, the sooner the better. 
 Let me see," reflectively, "he told me that 
 he would not return before the election; that 
 is on the seventh. By then I shall be gone; 
 out upon the ocean, and far, far away, and 
 he need not ever think of, or care for, or 
 hear from me again any more. And now, 
 darling, your love has been very sweet to me
 
 184 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 and I shall always bless you for it, but I 
 must give it up. Since he does not wish it, 
 I will put it away too. And now, darling, 
 let us say good-bye. I shall be too weak to 
 speak it at all unless I say it now. Good-bye, 
 darling, good-bye," and with a passionate 
 kiss she strained her to her heart and then 
 pushing her, aside she turned, and running to 
 her room she locked herself in. . 
 
 Augusta looked after her a moment, and 
 then she too turned sorrowfully away. 
 
 The speaking had closed for the day at 
 Spring Garden, and the speakers had retired 
 to their hotels when Winston's mail was 
 handed him. Scarcely expecting to hear, and 
 certainly not so soon, from his wife, the sight 
 of her letter 1 stirred him with a little wonder. 
 Quickly dropping all others he opened, and 
 with something of the feelings of a convicted 
 felon reading his own death-warrant he 
 read it. 
 
 "Ah!" he murmured as he finished, "I 
 wonder if Lucifer, looking up into the heaven 
 from which he had fallen could have felt half 
 the remorse that unmans me now ? Oh ! 
 why could I not have known her before ! 
 Alas, alas, all of light, of life, and of love 
 gone ; what have I to hope for now ! Ah 
 me, she returns me my letters that I need
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 185 
 
 not ever fear that they may be used 
 against me. What a thoughtful goodness ! 
 But then she is altogether good. And she 
 takes off the wedding-ring. Oh, bless the 
 ring ! I would freely give my right hand for 
 that poor little ring. God ! if it be not a 
 blasphemy for such a wretch as I to ask a 
 blessing upon her, bless her ! do Thou, 
 God, bless her ! Bless her and keep her 
 alway ! " and feeling better for the prayer, 
 he read the letter again: '"My womanly 
 honor cannot be assailed ; ' All, sweet ! and 
 the man, or the woman either, who dares to 
 breathe aught against thy womanly pro- 
 priety thy womanly goodness or thy wo- 
 manly sweetness shall eat the vile slander at 
 the butt of my horsewhip." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PAYING FOR THEIR WHISTLES. 
 
 THE campaign had ended, the discussions 
 had closed, the election was over, and in the 
 grateful relaxation that followed the strained 
 and drunken excitement of the canvass, the 
 candidates were feverishly awaiting the
 
 186 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 .result. The returns came in slowly ; less 
 time is required now to know the result of a 
 Bulgarian Plebiscite, than it took then to 
 hear from the outlying precincts of a con- 
 gressional district. Only a few counties had 
 been heard from, but these few gave unmis- 
 takable forecast of the final result. There 
 could be no question of the triumphant elec- 
 tion of Winston. 
 
 "Yes," sighed Lawson, as the latest news 
 came into his campaign headquarters, giving 
 one of his strongest counties to his opponent, 
 "Yes, I am licked. The thing is lost and 
 there is no chance to save it." 
 
 "Yes, and if it wasn't for the party, and 
 the money I will lose, I would be blamed 
 glad of it. You deserved to be beaten," 
 angrily retorted the chairman of his com- 
 mittee, who had rashly backed his partisan 
 zeal with five hundred dollars, bet on a 
 majority of five hundred votes over all others. 
 "I knew when you commenced your mud- 
 slinging, and began to daub the pegbottoms 
 that you had niggled it. I saw then tbat 
 you were beaten and I advised the committee 
 to haul you down and put up a more prudent 
 man. And I do wish to the Lord that we 
 had done it. You have killed yourself, sir, 
 as dead as Hector, and, what is worse, you
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 187 
 
 have given our party a blow from which it 
 will be hard to recover. We never had a 
 better prospect before ; and to think that it 
 should all be lost through your devilish 
 spleen." 
 
 " I am very sorry," whined the discomfited 
 and thoroughly beaten politician. 
 
 " Sorry ! I should think so. We have lost 
 the district, now ; the banner district of the 
 State, and its loss means the loss of the State, 
 itself, in the Presidential election. Why the 
 dickens couldn't you let the woman alone ? 
 What had she ever done to you that you had 
 to pull down her back hair and turn up her 
 pegbottoms ? " 
 
 " Rumor has it," interrupted the secretary 
 of the committee, the facetious Mr. Thom- 
 son, " that the lady, once upon a time, had 
 applied the dainty toe (she wears a number 
 ten) of her pegbottom to the seat the seat 
 of Tom's most tender susceptibilities." 
 
 "What do you mean ? " angrily interrupted 
 Lawson. 
 
 *'Why, I mean that she once kicked you 
 yourself. Put the heavy weight of her peg- 
 bottoms upon your matrimonial bread-basket 
 and squashed you flat as a flounder." 
 
 ' ' Please speak common English ; I cannot 
 understand your labored metaphors."
 
 188 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Very well, then, in plain talk, it is the 
 social on dit that you yourself courted Miss 
 Hardie, and that she everlastingly sat down 
 on you. No wonder you thought she 
 weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, and 
 that you should feel sore. Only think of 
 a two hundred and fifty pound pegbottom, 
 with an uncertain weight of chignon and 
 ear-bobs flopped down upon a man's tender 
 affections ! I don't see how you survived." 
 
 "It's an impertinent gossip," gasped the 
 poor fellow. " There isn't a particle of truth 
 in it ; I do not even know the woman." 
 
 "It is pretty direct any way. It seems 
 that a letter has turned up 
 
 "Damn the letter," hissed Lawson, now 
 fairly cornered. 
 
 " Well, you may damn the letter, for the 
 letter damns you. I wonder what your wife 
 will say when she sees it in the Clarion to- 
 morrow ! " 
 
 " Good God ! Is that being done ? " aghast 
 at the possibility. 
 
 " Yes. Walter Graves, who is to be mar- 
 ried to Miss Winston next week, told me 
 they were having a fac-simile of the letter 
 engraved, and as soon as the cuts came they 
 would flood the district with them. They 
 sent the letter to Philadelphia to have it
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 189 
 
 engraved, and there has been some delay in 
 the work, or it would have been published 
 before now. Old Yates has just gotten it, 
 and it will be in to-morrow's Clarion. 
 Society is on tiptoe to see it." 
 
 "My gracious! Thompson, this must be 
 stopped. You must see old Yates and buy 
 him off. Tell him that the election is over, 
 and it can do no good to publish it now. I 
 will give him a thousand dollars to suppress 
 it. It will kill me to have the infernal stuff 
 published. I was drunk when I wrote it." 
 
 " Well, I will see him, but you ought to be 
 punished for your folly, not in writing the 
 letter, but in attacking the woman." 
 
 " And I have been punished, the Lord 
 knows. If ever a mill-stone was hung 
 around a man's neck this thing has been one 
 around mine. From the day I uttered it I 
 would willingly have cut off my left ear to 
 have recalled the words. But here, here is 
 a check for the money ; see the old hound 
 and buy him off. And if you can't do that, 
 let me know, and I will take my shot-gun 
 and blow his addled brains out. I shah 1 
 burn his office and him in it before this 
 thing shall get to my wife. " 
 
 " I think I can buy him," accepting the 
 check. "And now, gentlemen, we had just
 
 190 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 as well break up the rendezvous. There is 
 no further need of gathering here to hear 
 the news." 
 
 "No," acquiesced Lawson, "the news 
 will reach us soon enough, God knows. If 
 there is any deficiency in the campaign 
 funds, let me know and I will settle it," and 
 the crestfallen and badly beaten man seized 
 his hat and made a dash for the door, 
 strongly debating in his own mind whether 
 to go out and hang himself, or else to get 
 gloriously drunk and go home and have it 
 out, at once, with his wife. 
 
 "Served the blasted fool right. I knew 
 his election last time was the result of acci- 
 dent, and that his renomination was a mis- 
 take ; the conceited puppy," muttered the 
 chairman, as he adjourned the committee 
 sine die, and went out to console himself 
 for the loss of his money in the inspiring 
 bouquet of a brandy cock-tail. 
 
 Thompson went straight to the bank, and 
 getting his check cashed, walked over to the 
 office of the Clarion, where he found the 
 editor too busy arranging and jubilating 
 over a column of roosters, to even notice 
 his presence, until the urgency of his busi- 
 ness made itself known. 
 
 " I came to see you, Mr. Yates, in behalf 
 of my friend Lawson
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 191 
 
 " He wants a retraction ? Damned if I do 
 it. And if he wants a fight he can get it." 
 
 "No, no ! You mistake the tenor of my 
 visit. My mission is one of peace altogether. 
 Now that the canvass is over, we all can 
 afford to be friends again. He, Lawson, 
 feels his defeat keenly, and is truly sorry 
 for any personal bitterness that has been 
 engendered by the campaign, and now that 
 the election is over, and we concede our 
 defeat, he begs that the personalities be 
 stopped." 
 
 "You mean that we are not to crow? 
 That I am to suppress my roosters ? Egad, 
 sir, that I'll never do. This is the first time 
 since the Clarion has been ringing that we've 
 had a chance to crow, and egad, sir, I intend 
 to let her crow. See here, sir, a -hundred 
 dollars worth of new roosters just in from 
 Philadelphia, bought on purpose for this 
 occasion, and you must take me for a bald- 
 headed idiot, if you think I will go and 
 wring their necks off without one of the 
 longest and loudest crows that ever sent the 
 whigs sneaking back to their dens. No, sir ; 
 we've whipped the fight and we are .bound 
 ter crow." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I understand that. We expect 
 you to crow. As you well say, it is the first
 
 192 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 chance you have ever had to crow, and it 
 will be the last, so you should make the best 
 of the opportunity, and crow your loudest. 
 But what I want is that spoony letter of 
 Lawson's ? " 
 
 " What letter ? " wonderingly but sly. 
 
 " Oh, you know, that infernal silly stuff 
 he wrote to Miss Hardie ? " 
 
 " Oh, ho, that's it, is it ? I wouldn't take a 
 thousand dollars for that, the best trick in 
 the hand. What a pity we hadn't got it 
 before the election ; the blankest, spooniest, 
 softest sugar a love-sick feller ever tried to 
 poke in a girl's ear ; ha-ha-ha," laughed the 
 jolly editor, catching the cue. 
 
 "Yes, its use before the election would 
 have been legitimate, although in question- 
 able taste, but now, Mr. Yates, after the thing 
 is all over, and you have licked us so infer- 
 nally slick, don't you think that it would be 
 magnanimous to suppress it? Consider 
 his wife, she is really an excellent lady." 
 
 "Yes, and he should have considered 
 Winston's wife." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course it was very wrong 
 in him, outrageous, in fact, but a blanked 
 lucky thing for your sidel It turned the tide 
 and lost us the election." 
 
 "Yes, it was a boomerang that kicked
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 193 
 
 back worse than an old army musket," 
 laughed Yates. 
 
 " Indeed it was, and I should think that 
 the mortification of knowing this would be 
 punishment enough without taunting him 
 with his asinine folly." 
 
 ' ' Folly ! it was something worse than 
 folly ; it was pure, low, down, unadulterated 
 cussedness. " 
 
 "Well, let us call it that, and I need not 
 assure you that his friends were equally 
 indignant when they heard of it. But now, 
 that is all over, and the laches proved as 
 you know such a lucky thing for Winston, I 
 must try to get you to let the matter drop. 
 In fact, Mr. Yates, to corne down to busi- 
 ness, I will say that Lawson is willing to 
 pay you dearly for any expense in cuts or 
 composition you have been at, if you will 
 suppress all further publications on the sub- 
 ject. Here," displaying the roll of bills, 
 "he sends you one thousand dollars which 
 I am authorized to give you if you will kill 
 all the matter you have on it; on the subject 
 of the letter, I mean, and will not publish 
 another line on the subject." 
 
 " For all time, you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, only for this. If we are fools 
 enough to ever nominate him again, you are 
 
 "I Q
 
 194 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 welcome to resurrect and use it then. It 
 is only now that he wishes it suppressed on 
 account of his wife." 
 
 1 'Very well, I will take it," grasping 
 the money, "for the sake of his wife and 
 the peace of his family. I don't like to do it 
 though." 
 
 " And you will destroy the cuts ?" 
 
 " What, my roosters ? Suppress my roost- 
 ers and hush my crow ? No sir ee bob. 
 Here, take your money back. I wouldn't 
 do without my crow for twice this amount," 
 offering the money back. 
 
 " No, not the roosters ; blank the roosters, 
 let them burst their leaden throats crowing, 
 for all I care. I mean the cut of that infer- 
 nal letter." 
 
 " Ah, yes," with a sudden revelation. "I 
 see now, I see. I didn't quite understand at 
 first. I thought you wanted the roosters 
 too. But I see now, ah, I see! Well, yes-er, 
 yes, I see, I see, yes, I will suppress it. And 
 not another line about the letter shall 
 appear in the Clarion, that is, until the next 
 campaign. " 
 
 "Very well, I can trust you. Good-day, 
 sir," bowing himself out. 
 
 "Good-day, sir," closing the door after his 
 visitor, "Well, well, well! if this don't
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 195 
 
 beat old Tucker himself. The best joke of 
 the whole campaign ! Ha-ha-he-he-ho-ho, 
 the blamed fool, ha-ha-he-he, thought that I 
 had an engraved copy of the letter, ho-ho! 
 I wonder what letter he means, ha-ha, and 
 was going to publish it, ho-ho, and sends 
 me all this money to suppress it ! he-he-ho- 
 ho! Cock-a-doodle-doo! I feel like crowing 
 myself. Let me see," counting the bills, 
 " yes, a cool thousand, bully for me, I ought 
 not to take it, perhaps," sobering up a little 
 at the honest qualm, " seeing as it was all a 
 mistake. No, I ought not. But then it is 
 too good a joke to lose, ha-ha-he-he, yes, it 
 is too good to lose, and it serves the cuss 
 right, ha-ha, and besides it will get Carrie a 
 piano. Bless her sweet heart! I will make 
 her a Christmas present. Yes, I'll do that 
 very thing. I'll order it right away one 
 of Knabe's best. My ! my ! what a lucky 
 streak ! I think I must tell Wat and the 
 boys. It's too good to keep, ha-ha-he-he, 
 bully bully bully ! The fool isscaredof his 
 wife ! A thousand dollars to keep her from 
 seeing the letter ! What a tennigant she 
 must be, to be sure! I'll get Wat and the 
 boys and we'll have a spree, mulct me for a 
 parson if I don't, ha-ha-ha! " and holding his 
 sides to keep them from splitting, the jolly
 
 196 DAVID AND ABIGAIL, 
 
 editor turned to resume his muster of crow- 
 ing roosters. But he was too exuberant to 
 do anything, and, turning the exultant col- 
 ume over to his foreman, he seized his hat 
 and hurried out to find Wat and the boys, 
 and to have a drink and a laugh and then 
 a laugh and a drink over the joke. It is 
 needless to say that Wat and the boys were 
 easily found and enjoyed the joke and the 
 glass and then the laugh and another glass, 
 each glass giving pungency to the risibility 
 of the joke, and each laugh calling for 
 another glass. Indeed, the risibility of the 
 joke and the exhilarating effects of the glass, 
 combined with the general enthusiasm in- 
 spired by the good news which continued 
 to pour in upon the democratic headquar- 
 ters, had such an inspiriting effect upon the 
 usually sober and decorous Walter Graves, 
 as to completely upset the equilibrium of his 
 dignity, and he astonished his gentle fiancee, 
 a few minutes after, to say nothing of the 
 little fright he gave her, by bursting into 
 her drawing-room with a Comanchee yell, 
 and a ' ' Whoop-pee huzza, for the peg bot- 
 toms ! I Golly, Gussie, we've got 'em. Here 
 let's take a kiss in honor of our victory," 
 and before the startled lady could protest the 
 had her in his arms exploding kisses like the 
 popping of a string of fire-crackers.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 197 
 
 " Why, Walter, Mr. Graves! What do you 
 mean ? " she gasped as soon as she could 
 catch her breath, and pushing him away 
 with instinctive energy, and hardly knowing 
 whether to laugh or to cry. 
 
 "I mean, darling, there, Gussie, you 
 needn't run, don't be scared, I am not 
 drunk, only the news is just too good for 
 anything. It's enough to make a fellow feel 
 good all over ; I could hug the whole of 
 creation ; now don't, Gussie, I just can't help 
 it. Why the bottom pegs or I mean the peg- 
 bottoms are on top. Yes, they are for a 
 fact. They just came down like a thousand 
 of brick and have smashed the everlasting 
 demnition bow-wows out of the pumpsoles. 
 Dave is elected, world without end, amen, 
 whoop-pee ! " 
 
 "Hush, Walter, you must not. But 
 please tell me, is it true ? " the pleasing pos- 
 sibility overcoming the little fright and 
 puzzled anger that so womanly resented her 
 lover's boisterous intrusion. 
 
 "True ! To be sure it is true. Do you 
 think that I would go whooping around 
 town with the boys like a boiled owl if it 
 wasn't true. Certain, it is true. The pump- 
 soles have given it up and gone home, the 
 sickest looking set youj ever saw, Lawsou
 
 198 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 has caved ; and, Gussie, lemme tell you, 
 it's the richest thing that ever happened, 
 ha-ha-he-he, it's enough to make the statue 
 of Mobe herself laugh ; I have just laughed 
 until I have bursted half my buttons off, 
 ha-ha-ho-ho, now, darling, come, don't get 
 scared again ; I am not drunk ; I pledge 
 you my word and honor that I am not 
 drunk ; I'm as sober as as the last man 
 in a funeral procession. I haven't drank a 
 drop before to-day since Christmas. You 
 needn't be frightened, Gussie, I tell you I 
 am so-so-o-ber, and will behave myself, only 
 this thing is is too dev'lish good for any- 
 thing. Oh ! I do wish Dave was here to 
 help me laugh, ha-ha-ha ! Oh ! Gussie, come 
 back, please don't run ; stay just a minute 
 and let me tell you," and sobered a little by 
 the lady's rising, color and an unmistakable 
 movement towards the door, he lowered his 
 voice and went on. " It's about the letter 
 you know the letter ? " 
 
 "What letter?" 
 
 "The letter Tom Lawson wrote Miss 
 Hardie, the one you told me about 
 
 " Oh Walter ! you know I never told you 
 any such thing. I promised her that I 
 never would tell," with a quick protest. 
 
 " Yes, I know, Qf course you never told,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 199 
 
 but I only guessed it, or else somehow it got 
 out, and some wag went to Lawson and 
 told him that we had the letter and that we 
 intended publishing it in the Clarion, sand- 
 wiched among the roosters, and the poor 
 fool was so scared that his wife would get 
 hold of it ; you see, Gussie, he stands in 
 mortal terror of his wife, and so he sent 
 Dick Thompson with a thousand dollars to 
 old Yates to buy him off, and get him to 
 suppress it 
 
 "But they could not publish it, for no 
 one ever sa'w it but me, and I saw Grace put 
 it in the fire myself," again protested the 
 lady, still in a confused puzzle to know 
 whether her lover was really drunk or 
 threatened with a mild attack of lunacy. 
 
 " No ! of course not, there was no copy, 
 and no one would have dreamed of publish- 
 ing it if there had been one. It was only a 
 joke played on Lawson. Yates himself, at 
 first didn't know what Dick was driving at, 
 but it flashed upon him at last and he just 
 scooped it in. Only think ! a thousand 
 dollars ! " 
 
 " Did he really give a thousand dollars ? " 
 
 "Yes! a round thousand; I saw the 
 money myself." 
 
 "And Mr. Yates took it?"
 
 200 DA FID ^i^D ABIGAIL. 
 
 " Yes ! and he went straight to Crews and 
 sent it off for a piano for his daughter. 
 And now tell me, Gussie, if it isn't the best 
 thing that ever happened, and that you 
 don't mind me taking a little spree over it ? " 
 
 " If he, the wretch didn't deserve every- 
 thing that is mean, I should say that it was 
 mean in Mr. Yates to take the money." 
 
 "Yes, but you see it served him right ; 
 it's a part of his punishment. If it hadn't 
 been for that, old Yates would not have 
 touched a single cent of it, but just to pay 
 him for his malicious fling he took it. But 
 now, won't he look blank when he finds it 
 out?" 
 
 " He should demand his money back." 
 
 "No, he cannot do that. Yates only 
 promised not to publish anything more 
 about the letter, a thing he had no idea of 
 doing at first. But now, Augusta, I see that 
 I have somehow frightened you, and I shall 
 go. You must not be too severe on me ; the 
 news is so good and the joke was so laugh- 
 able and the boys are all such jolly good 
 fellows, that I just couldn't help it, I've 
 swored off though, as old Rip says, and I'll 
 not do so any more. Please forgive me ! " 
 
 "Yes, I understand; but oh! Walter, 
 this is all so sad, so hard and cruel to poor
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 201 
 
 Grace, and so happy and jolly and ludi- 
 crous to everybody else. Please promise 
 me, Walter, that that you will will 
 noi^ 
 
 "Touch a single drop?" he interrupted, 
 touched and sobered by the tears that came 
 swelling in the eyes of his sweetheart. 
 " Oh, darling, I promise." 
 
 " No, not that, but that you will have 
 nothing more to do with this unseemly 
 revel. It should not be a matter of levity 
 to us, when it was such a hurt to her. Of 
 course we are glad that brother Dave is 
 elected, but but oh, you cannot know ! " 
 
 " Well well, never mind ; I shall not ask 
 to know ; I see that you are distressed 
 and your distress has sobered me. I shall 
 go straight to my office and go to work ; 
 bye-bye !" 
 
 "Bye-bye;" and to show her forgiveness 
 she gave him a kiss, very sweet but scarcely 
 so sweet as the one he had so incontinently 
 stolen. 
 
 "I wonder," he queried to himself as 
 he went away, sobered in truth by the 
 gravity of the lady's manner, "I wonder 
 what makes Augusta so sad of late. I am 
 sure that at any other time she would not
 
 202 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 have minded so seriously this little jollity of 
 mine. It must be something about David 
 and his wife. I wonder if there is anything 
 wrong about the girl ? she has never been 
 received in the family yet ; and only last 
 evening when I asked Gussie to introduce 
 me to her she was positively upset. It 
 would be very foolish in them to be 
 ashamed of her low origin now that he has 
 married her. He should have thought 
 about all this before. There is something 
 not altogether clear about the matter. The 
 marriage itself was a surprise to everybody. 
 However, it was a lucky thing for Dave, for 
 it has elected him dead certain. He would 
 have been badly beaten, had it not been for 
 the pegbottom alliance. He will be home 
 to-morrow, and then I will know ; he cannot 
 fail to introduce me to his wife, and from 
 what Gussie first said about her he need not 
 be ashamed to introduce her to any one." 
 
 It was in the evening of the next day 
 before David Winston returned, and though 
 he came back in the flush of a proud tri- 
 umph, with the laurel crown of victory 
 circling his brow, he felt for the first time 
 in his life, a shrinking back in shame as he 
 entered his father's house and made his way 
 unannounced into the presence of his sister.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 203 
 
 They exchanged silent kisses, and stood 
 some moments speechless-, and then Augusta 
 had to break the silence. 
 
 " I suppose that you are elected ? " 
 
 "Yes ! Thanks to the irony of Momus ; 
 How his sardonic chops must have grinned 
 with grim delight as he saw what a travesty 
 on Democracy he was making ! Vox populi, 
 vox Dei pah ! what a lie. It is the laugh 
 of the gods. I am utterly disgusted with 
 the whole thing, and had it not been that I 
 could spit my scorn in the face of that scoun- 
 drel, I would be glad to-night if I had been 
 beaten. It is only that it avenges her upon 
 him that I am glad." 
 
 " Ah ! I am glad that you have won, and 
 especially from him. But, oh ! my brother, 
 what a humiliating thought that you owe 
 your election to one whom you have so 
 cruelly wronged," she answered sadly. 
 
 "It is not the humiliation ; that could be 
 endured. It is a weightier sense than that ; 
 a remorse more gnawing than any hurt of 
 wounded pride is eating in my soul. I could 
 be content to owe everything that I have, 
 or ever expect to have -all the good that is 
 possible to be in my life to her and her alone, 
 if I could only recall the blasphemous words 
 and thoughts I had registered in my soul
 
 204 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 against her. But, sister, I must not think or 
 speak about her. It will be best for her 
 name never to be spoken between us. I am 
 going away to-morrow, and shall be gone 
 all winter 
 
 "To avoid her ?" interrupting. 
 
 "Yes! I must be frank with you. I 
 could not dare to meet her." 
 
 " Then you need not go for that. She is 
 already gone ' : 
 
 "Gone!" 
 
 "Yes. She left the very day she received 
 your letter. She went to Charleston and 
 from there sailed to Liverpool. She is by 
 this time nearly across the ocean 
 
 " To Liverpool ; across the ocean ! " he re- 
 peated. " Did her father go with her ? " 
 
 "No. She went with a lady friend, a 
 Mrs. Whiting, the wife 6f a cotton mer- 
 chant. She is in good hands." 
 
 " This is horrible ! " 
 
 "No. It seems that they had already ar- 
 ranged for the trip, before you came in and 
 interrupted the arrangement, but when you 
 so meanly cast her off again, she thought 
 that it would be best for you that she 
 should go, and now she is gone. It was very 
 good in her, I am sure, and very brave ; I 
 should not have gone a step, but would have
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 205 
 
 stayed and plagued your life out. If Walter 
 was to treat me so when we marry I 
 wouldn't speak to him ever again to save 
 his life." 
 
 " Ah ! But Wat could not do such a cruel 
 thing. I doubt if in all the wide, wide 
 world another man could be found capable 
 of such a despicable meanness. But I am. 
 very sorry that she is gone. I could not 
 have asked such a sacrifice of her. I had 
 rather have gone myself to Australia, to Hin- 
 dostan, to Timbuctoo, to the uttermost parts 
 of the earth, than to have further disturbed 
 her life. It does seem that she is determined 
 to overwhelm me utterly with the proofs of 
 her goodness and the sense of my own un- 
 worthiness. I was wretched enough be- 
 fore, but this this is the hardest blow of all," 
 and sinking down he hid his face in his 
 hands and sobbed like a woman. 
 
 For more than a moment he cried, and 
 then putting away the weakness he started 
 up and asked : 
 
 "And does she not know that her going 
 thus will compromise her reputation ; will 
 subject her name to scandal ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; she is fully sensible of all the 
 danger. She said that Mrs. Grundy must have 
 some one to talk about and her talking would
 
 206 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 affect her as little as it could any one ; and 
 then she begged me so piteously not to think 
 her utterly bad, and then she kissed me good- 
 bye, and oh ! my brother, it was the saddest 
 good-bye that was ever spoken, and you 
 can never, never know what a treasure you 
 have lost," and now it was the sister's turn 
 to go off into a little heart-burst of tears. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AFTER THE DARKNESS COMETH LIGHT. 
 
 A MONTH had gone by since the wedding 
 of Miss Augusta Winston and Mr. Walter 
 Graves. The brilliancy of that fashionable 
 event gave society a toothsome pabulum for 
 a fortnight, and then its ravenous alembic 
 began to hunger for a mess of scandal. It 
 is strange that the same delicate taste that 
 revels in the dainty lusciousness of a rich, 
 ripe strawberry, can lapse into the malo- 
 dorous pungency of Limburger cheese, and 
 codfish balls ; but so it is, and so, too, with 
 society ; the same little pinky ears, cocked, 
 so charmingly, to hear the pleasing and deli- 
 cate details of a marriage fete, are equally
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 207 
 
 ready to flop in prurient delight to hear the 
 shocking concomitants of a divorce, or an 
 elopement. 
 
 Bergavonia having surfeited itself upon 
 the dainty tid-bits of Miss Winston's wed- 
 ding, began to long, with a kind of dyspep- 
 tic peccancy for the titillating pungency of 
 the cheese. This Mrs. Grundy had, extra 
 flavored by its long-keeping. 
 
 The absence of Mrs. David Winston, whom 
 they were all on the qui vive to see, from 
 the wedding of his sister, had been noted 
 and silently wondered at, but, in deference 
 to her husband's prominence, had not been 
 openly spoken of. It was only when, by a 
 questionable dickering with the servants 
 and a surreptitious peep for herself through 
 the back witidow, that that amiable lady 
 stood aghast at the horrid discovery of the 
 bride's absence, not only from her young 
 husband's bed, but from her sorrowing 
 father's board, as well. And then, with the 
 hearty zest of a modern evangelist preach- 
 ing hell-fire and damnation to a gathering 
 of Sunday-school children, she began the 
 delectable task of " telling it in Gath " and 
 admonishing prudery by expatiating upon the 
 shocking particulars of the flight of the 
 naughty, naughty bride of a week.
 
 208 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 It had perplexed the family to determine 
 how best to meet the matter. David had 
 proposed to take Mrs. Grundy boldly by the 
 nose and forestall her evil tongue by 
 publicly acquitting his wife of all blame, 
 and proclaim his own sorrowful condem- 
 nation. Against this Judge Winston pro- 
 tested : 
 
 "Until the finger of reproach points to 
 her name, there is no occasion for us to 
 speak. Meanwhile it can be given out that, 
 in pursuance of a previously arranged pro- 
 gramme, Abigail had, with the consent 
 and approbation of her father, and of our 
 family, gone on a traveling tour to Europe, 
 with friends whom she knew, and whom 
 we could trust, and that when she was to 
 return, was a matter that could not concern 
 any one but her family." 
 
 "Yes," supplemented Augusta, "and I 
 can tell everybody, all my friends and every- 
 body else, what a sweet lady she really and 
 truly is, and how very, very dearly we all 
 love her." 
 
 " Very well," acquiesced David, " only no 
 taint of blame or wrong must be attached 
 to her," and then supplementing the pro- 
 viso with a punitive corollary, "and I shall 
 pull the vile, slandering tongue out by the
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 209 
 
 roots that shall dare to whisper a doubt 
 against her honor." 
 
 And so, for its little day, Mrs. Grundy 
 detailed the spice and society sneezed on the 
 sly, but the spice soon lost its titillating pun- 
 gency, and the Christmas gayeties coming 
 on, set the pumpsoles to dancing, and in the 
 winking at, and trying to hide their own 
 little frailties and follies, the poor exiled 
 wife was left to pursue her loveless wander- 
 ings in the lands across the sea, unnoticed 
 if not unforgotten. 
 
 Only in one home was she missed, in one 
 sad heart was her absence an ever present, 
 ever aching void. The poor old man, her 
 father, had never smiled since the day she 
 went away. And now Christmas was 
 near, and the growing brightness in other 
 homes and in other hearts seemed only to 
 make the darkness more dreary and cold in 
 his. 
 
 It was the day before Christmas that he 
 called Sam to his room : 
 
 " Sam, tell Bob ter run over an' tell Jedge 
 Winston ter come over. I wants ter see 
 'im on a pint ov law," he ordered. 
 
 Bob hurried away, and within an hour 
 Judge Winston was with the old man. 
 
 " I sent fer ye, Jedge, ter ax you ter sorter 
 14
 
 210 DA PID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 look over this paper, an' see zif hit is right. 
 I've bin a tryin' ter fix up a will, an' I'd like 
 fer you ter look over this an' see if hit will 
 stick ? " 
 
 The Judge adjusted his glasses and read, 
 written in a remarkably firm hand for such 
 stiff fingers. 
 
 In the name ov God, aymen ; this endenture witnesses 
 that I, Israel Hardie, bein' ov soun' mine an' in my rite 
 senses, makes this iny will and testimony, an' hit bein' the 
 onliest one I ever maid in my life, I wants hit ter stand : 
 
 Fust an' foermost, I don't owe enny dels as I knows ov, 
 but if I do, I wants them all pade. Nex, an' secind, an' 
 strongest ov all, I wills and bequethe, an' gives to my 
 lovin', darter Grace Abigail ever' thing I have on 
 
 God's green yeath, ter have an' ter keep hit all, to witt : 
 Namely, Houses an' Lans, an' Niggers, Hosses and Muils 
 an Kattle, Hogs an' Sheeps, an' Gotes, Craps an' waggins, 
 House, an' kichen furnitur, Tools, et Cet e Ra, Munny, 
 Noats, Rale rode stocks, Bank stocks, Stait an' County 
 bons, an' all. Everthing ter be hern, ter do with tliest as 
 she pleases, only I'd like fer her ter give all the Niggers a 
 Chrismus present ter remember me by, an' I laves hit ter 
 her ter say how much. I also don't ever want her ter let 
 ole Ben an' his wife Sharlit be soled, but ter see that they 
 is allers tooked good kare ov, kase they corned by her 
 Mammy. Nex', third, I appint Jedge Arther Winston as 
 administrator, ad cap tandem, de bon is non, or what yer 
 ma' call it, ov the es Tate, ter look arter it, tell Abby conies 
 hoam. Also ter act as gardeen fer her as long as six- needs 
 one. Nex', fourth, an' last, all my papers is in good shape, 
 an' will be found in the lurn safe Sam will givo him the 
 key, az soon az I am dead an' gone. In witness ov all this, 
 I've signed, sealed and delivered this, on this the twenty
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 211 
 
 seckun' day ov December, in the Year Of Our Lord anny 
 dommyny 18 hundred an' 54. Sined in the presence ov two 
 
 witnesses : 
 
 " ISRAEL HAKDIE." 
 
 Witnesses,] oIte' (both freellolders )- 
 
 "Will hit do, Jedge?" after the judge 
 had finished the reading. 
 
 "Yes, this will hold in law. It might be 
 put in better form, perhaps, but it could not 
 be made more intelligible or explicit. Only 
 I note a hiatus after the name of your 
 daughter, do you wish that filled ? " 
 
 "Nan?" 
 
 "I mean a blank after the names, Grace 
 Abigail do you wish that filled ? " 
 
 "Ah, yes ! I sees. Well, yes only, Jedge, 
 1 waz a leetle jubus on that pint. I waz 
 unsertain thest how Abby stan's in law, an' 
 so I left hit blank until I axed you 'bout it." 
 
 " Yes, it is very sad, and I am very sorry, 
 but there is no legal difficulty about her 
 name. She has the right by law to the 
 name of Winston. That is her legal name." 
 
 " Well, I warn't perzactly sertin, and so I 
 left it out. You thest fill it in, or no, 
 mebby I'd best ter do it myseff, az I writ 
 the rest ov it," and taking the pen he filled 
 the blank, making it read Grace Abigail 
 Winston.
 
 212 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " An' you'll tend ter this, Jedge ? I hates 
 ter bother you with sich foolishness, but I'd 
 rather trust you than anny one else, an' so 
 hadAbby." 
 
 " Yes, God being my helper, I will be both 
 a guardian and a father to your daughter. 
 But I hope, Mr. Hardie, that you do not 
 apprehend any danger of a speedy dissolution, 
 and that this is but a prudent precaution 
 that every man ought to take against the 
 certainty of death ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes! I hain't skeered ter die, an' 
 don't much care when hit comes. If hit 
 warn't fer Abby, I bleeves as I'd like ter go 
 ter-night. I allers did sorter want ter die in 
 Chrismus times. Hit seems ter me it would 
 be a good time ter die when the angels war all 
 a singing over the horning ov Christ. Mebby 
 so hit wouldn't be sich a tight squeeze fer an 
 ole sinner like me ter slip in. Yes, Jedge, 
 zif hit warn't fer Abby I bleeves I'd like ter 
 peg out this blessed night, but I hates ter 
 leave the pore gurrill away out yander, 
 knockin' about through the world all by her 
 lone seff. An' asides somehow I'd a liked 
 ter see her one more time afore I started. 
 But mebby hit's best that she's away. Hit 
 won't hurt her so bad, I know, fer if she waz 
 here she'd have nothing else ter do but ter cry,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 213 
 
 while thar she'll have strange sights ter see 
 an' friends ter talk to, an' hit won't be so 
 bad nor so lonesum. Yes, hit's best, Jedge, 
 fer her that she iz gone." 
 
 " Have you heard from her ? " with a pain- 
 ful yearning for the wanderer. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I got a letter yisterdy, an.' 
 she writes that she's having a rael nice time. 
 Thay iz monstus good ter her her friends 
 are, an' does ever'thing they kin ter pacify 
 her. They had a good trip an' landed safely. 
 She writ as they had a nice cottage by the 
 river-side ter live in, an' thay waz a havin' 
 lots er fun seein' the theaters an' the opper- 
 rys, an' sich like, an' ever'thing is so strange 
 an' new ter her. Yes, Jedge, hit's best as 
 she iz away ; she won't mind it so much. 
 An' when it do come, Jedge, I wants yer ter 
 write ter her yourseff an' sorter saffen hit 
 down-like ter her, az much az yer kin. Tell 
 her that hit waz all well with me, an' fer 
 her not ter cry, and fer her not ter come home 
 on my account at all, but thest ter make 
 herseff at home annywhar she's a mine ter. 
 The same God as would bless her here kin 
 bless her thar. You muss send her all the 
 munny she wants, hit's all hern, nohow, an' 
 she must have thest az much az she wants. 
 I sent her yisterdy a bill ov exchange fer
 
 214 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 three thousan' pounds, but she must have 
 as much more every month if she wants 
 hit. Hit seems like hit 'as only made her 
 trubble, an' the sooner she spends hit, mebby, 
 the better. I'm not skeered ov her wastin' 
 hit; though. Abby hain't a wasteful gurrill, 
 an' kin do more good with a little munny 
 than anny other feller I ever seed. She 
 writ that zif hit warn't fer sellin' an' scat- 
 terin' the niggers that she'd like fer me ter 
 sell out, lock, stock an' barrell an' go over an' 
 let us liv' together over thar. If I thort as I 
 could hole out ter reach thar, I'd start this 
 verry minnit. This place here in this grate 
 big house is gettin' so lonesum 'thout her, 
 that I skacely kin stan' it. Hit 'ill never be 
 home agin ter me nor ter her." 
 
 Judge Winston was not a very sym- 
 pathetic man, and was rarely demonstrative 
 in the expression of his feelings, but some- 
 how he now found his hand unconsciously 
 reaching out to the old man's and a strange 
 moisture gathering in his eyes as he an- 
 swered : 
 
 "I shall do all that you ask, Mr. Hardie, 
 and I do wish that I could add something to 
 the cheer of your home. My own is Lonely 
 now that my daughter is gone. I do trust 
 that the sunshine may soon gladden yours
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 215 
 
 again, and that the future may hold many 
 pleasant hours yet in store for you. To- 
 morrow is Christmas ; Augusta is coming 
 home to dinner. Would you mind coming 
 too ? It might be pleasant to you." 
 
 "No, I reckon not. I skasely feels strong 
 anuff. I feels myseff a failin' mity fast. 
 But, Jedge, you may think me foolish like, 
 but somehow I can't help the hankerin', but 
 I'd like ter see David. Is he at home ? " 
 
 ' ' He is at home. He returned this morn- 
 ing. He has been to Eichmond, before the 
 United States district court, attending to 
 my case. And by the by, Mr. Hardie, it 
 may please you to know that I have won my 
 suit and the chances are now favorable 
 for a satisfactory adjustment of the matter 
 without any further litigation." 
 
 ' ' Ah, has you ? I am hones'ly glad, 
 shore's yer born I am. Hit '11 serve ter put 
 you on yer feet agin." 
 
 " Yes, and now I can pay you back all that 
 you have been so good as to advance for 
 me." 
 
 "Please don't say that, Jedge, yer orten 
 ter say that. You knows as I didn't mean 
 that, yer knows I didn't, " with a hurt look. 
 
 "No no I know that you never 
 meant anything but good-will to me and
 
 216 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 mine, only, Mr. Hardie, you cannot under- 
 stand what a humiliating weight it is we 
 have to bear. Of course, we may never 
 hope to be able to repay the full debt of 
 gratitude we owe you, but its pecuniary 
 obligations should and must be satisfied. I 
 can then look you so much straighter in the 
 face." 
 
 "Very well, then, zif the munny is ter 
 sta'n atwixt us, I will take it an' put hit 
 ahine us, or you kin thes gin it ter Abby 
 when I'm gone. Hit will hurt her ter take 
 it, but then you needn't ter let on ter her 
 how it come. She don't know nuffin' about 
 it now, an' it would be like rippin' up ole 
 sores fer you ter ever tell her." 
 "And you have never told her ? " 
 "No, no, Abby knows nuffin' 'bout my 
 bizness affairs. I never pestered her about 
 bizness, kaze I never thort it was a umman's 
 bizness. She only knows as I've got a heap 
 an' hit's all fer her, nor it don't make a fool 
 of her nuther; so if you do this thing you 
 kin thes slip it in with the tuther an' she'll 
 never know the difference. It would hurt 
 her monstus, Jedge, fer her ter know ; an' 
 I think as how we've hurt the pore gurrill 
 anuff a' ready without rubbin' salt on the 
 whelks."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL 217 
 
 "Yes, yes. I shall never knowingly hurt 
 her, and would give much to undo the 
 wrong we have already put upon her fair 
 young life." 
 
 "To be shore, but hit's all gone now, an' 
 Abby is a brave gurrill, or 'umman, ruther, 
 for she's a 'umman now; this thing haz made 
 a f ull-growed 'umman outen her. She hain't 
 no longer the frisky laughin' gurrill she was 
 afore that mornin', but she's a sober- faced 
 'umman. She's a brave one, though, she's 
 true grit an' will git over this, only I waz 
 monstus sorry ter see her so cut down. Hit 
 hurt her wuss nor you think, an' wuss nor 
 she lets on. But then, Jedge, I reckon hit 
 hurt you an' David too, as well's her an' me ; 
 sich things allers do. One can't expect ter 
 lick a skillet without gittin' his nose smutty. 
 Hit was a bad thing all roun' an' we must 
 try to make the best outen hit we can. 
 She's gone now, plum, outen the way ov it, 
 an' we mustn't let it bother us anny more. I 
 wuz ter blame more than annybody. Hit 
 warn't Abby's fault at all. I 'suaded her in 
 it, an' I seed it went agin the grain, an' had 
 it a been anny uther feller than David I 
 don't believe she would a stood it. I am 
 monstus sorry, but as I sed afore, I would 
 love ter see David."
 
 218 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 11 Then I will come to-morrow and he will 
 come with me. We will take a nogg with 
 you." 
 
 " Will you shore anuff ? " brightening up. 
 " I'll be mighty glad ; hit's so lonesome here 
 all alone by myseff , with no one but the nig- 
 gers ter talk to. I hopes as he won't mine 
 the coming. Tell him, Jedge, that hit's 
 nuthin' 'bout Abby I wants ter see him for. 
 Hit's thes fer my own seff, I wantster see 
 'im. Nex' ter Abigail I loves David best 
 ov anny, don't you mine ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes. I understand, and I will bring 
 him. And now, Mr. Hardie, I must go. We 
 will come to-morrow to help you make a 
 merry Christmas," playfully shaking the 
 bony hand, now somehow strangely cold. 
 
 " David," he said, with a solemnity of tone 
 that startled his son from his study as he 
 found him in the library at home, " I have 
 just come from Mr. Hardie, and if a strong, 
 robust man can die of a broken heart, that 
 old man is dying." 
 
 -Dying?" 
 
 " Yes, dying ; I could feel the very shadow 
 of death in his presence." 
 
 "But is he ill ? Does he need attention ? 
 We should see to it that he lacks for noth- 
 ing."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 219 
 
 "He made no complaint, but I am sure 
 that he is ill, mortally ill. He has made his 
 will and sent for me to review it. He is 
 fully conscious of his approaching end and is 
 ready for it. His heart hungers for his 
 child, but for her sake he is glad that she is 
 away. ' She is among friends there, ' he 
 said, 'and will soon get over it, but here 
 she would have no one to comfort her, and 
 she would have nothing else to do but to 
 cry.' It was piteous to hear him, and I 
 could hardly keep from crying myself. He 
 leaves his property intact and all for her, 
 and has appointed me executor of the 
 will 
 
 " You cannot be that ? " , 
 
 "Yes, I have promised, and God helping 
 me to keep the trust, I intend to accept it. 
 It is little enough for me to do after putting 
 all this shame and sorrow upon her. " 
 
 " Did he speak of her ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; his heart is full of nothing else 
 but her. He expects her to live abroad ; 
 that seems to be her wish, and % if he could 
 live long enough he would join her in 
 England." 
 
 " But where is she now ? " 
 
 " He had just heard from her. She is 
 pleasantly installed in a home with friends,
 
 220 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 in or near Liverpool. I did not see the 
 letter, but he seemed well satisfied about her 
 surroundings. But, David, he wants us to 
 call on him to-morrow." 
 
 "But I cannot go. I haven t the im- 
 pudence for that." 
 
 11 But you should go. It is not to reopen 
 the old matter that he wishes to see you, but 
 out of the kindest feelings for yourself. He 
 begged me to assure you that it was not 
 about his daughter that he wished to see you, 
 but only for yourself. He understands that 
 the gulf between you two is impassable 
 now, that your lives must forever be apart, 
 but he says that he loves you all the same 
 "Next to Abigail,' he said, 'I love David the 
 best of any.' It was really touching, and I 
 had to inwardly bless the good old man for 
 his strong affection for my son." 
 
 " But why should he love me ? Is it to 
 punish me that he would shame me with his 
 love?" 
 
 "No ! It is an artless, unaffected love, and 
 I believe, David, that it is that that has act- 
 uated him in all this unhappy matter. You 
 should not despise an affection so unselfish 
 and sincere." 
 
 " No, I do not despise it ; I only wish that 
 I was worthy if it. But knowing what you
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 221 
 
 know, father, you must understand that his 
 kindness can only be a reproach to me. Oh ! 
 how glad I am that we can pay him back his 
 accursed gold." 
 
 " I spoke to him about that ; I really hurt 
 the old man, but finally he said ' Well I ex- 
 pect to be gone, but you can just slip it in 
 with the other assets and let Abby know 
 nothing about it.' It seems that she is 
 ignorant of the transaction now, and it would 
 hurt her to ever know. 'And I think,' he 
 added with a pathos that was simply touch- 
 ing, ' that we have slashed the poor girl 
 enough without rubbing salt in the wound." 
 
 " And she knows nothing of all this moun- 
 tain of debt we owe her father ? " 
 
 " Nothing ! absolutely nothing ; and he 
 thinks it best for her that she may never 
 know. As I said, he requested me when he 
 was gone to 'slip it in along with the rest,' 
 and she would never know that it was ever 
 out. It was a thoughtful consideration of 
 his both for his daughter's feelings and for 
 ours. But then he is a remarkable man, 
 David, a most extraordinary man. Had he 
 been born to the station to which he has 
 raised himself, he would have been distin- 
 guished for something more than his wealth. 
 But you must go with me to-morrow. We
 
 222 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 must do all we can to comfort and cheer him 
 in his desolate loneliness." 
 
 "Yes, I shall go. It is just that I should 
 be punished and I shall bow to the curse ! 
 And oh ! what curse could lie heavier on 
 my soul than the blessing of her dying 
 father ! " 
 
 "No, my son, you must not let a morbid 
 remorse overcome your reason and affect the 
 better instincts of your nature. This has 
 been an unfortunate affair from the begin- 
 ning, but it is over now, and we must not 
 exaggerate its miseries. She is gone now, 
 and as her father says she is a brave woman, 
 and among new friends and in a strange land 
 she will soon learn to forget all the little she 
 had learned to know of us here. And you, 
 too, my son, are young and can outlive it. 
 You have much to live for, a high and noble 
 destiny to fill, only do your duty like a man 
 and trust the good God to bless the effort. 
 And now let us go over the Willoughby 
 matter again. Give me a synopsis of 
 General Hull's argument. " And in a crit- 
 ical review of the opposing argument, in 
 that interesting case, a diversion from the 
 subject so much nearer both their hearts, 
 was had, if not a complete nepenthe for all 
 its humiliation and sorrow.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 223 
 
 " Howdy, boys, howdy ! " cried the old gen- 
 tleman that cheery Christmas morning, as he 
 went out in the hall himself to welcome his 
 honored guests ; " I'm glad ter see yer, Jedge, 
 monstus 'glad, an' you too, David, I'z glad 
 ter see you too ; yes, I shorely iz," grasping 
 the young man's hand and dragging him 
 in. "Iwuz a little jubus as yer wan't a 
 coming," he added in unconscious extenu- 
 ation of the effusiveness of his greeting, 
 " Young fokses iz young fokses, yer know, 
 an' in jolly times like Chrismus hain't much 
 time ter be foolin' long with old codgers like 
 me. Howsumever, I iz monstus glad az 
 you've come ; fer I waz gitting- sorter lone- 
 sum all by myseff, so come erlong right in' 
 both, on yer, an' we'll have a nogg an a sig- 
 gar. Chrismus is Chrismus, yer know, an' 
 don't come but once a year. I 'av' thes bin a 
 givin' the niggers all ov thay leetle presents, 
 and thay Chrismus dram. Chrismus iz a 
 good day fer niggers, hain't it ? Hit allers 
 make me glad ter see 'em, " and, as if to belie 
 the cadaverous look of pain and sorrow in 
 his face, the old man put on a jollity of 
 manner, almost ghastly in its mockery. 
 
 The young man noticed that hollow look of 
 care and sorrow on his countenance, and 
 was shocked at the change that had come
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 since he had last seen him on that un- 
 lucky morning, when, like a serpent, he had 
 crept into the fair Eden of his home. 
 
 11 Here, Jedge, take this seat here, close to 
 the h'ath so'z yer can cock yer feet on the 
 mantilpiece, an' yere David yer can set yere, 
 by the winder so'z yer kin look outer doors. 
 Sam, pile on a leetle more wood ; gin us a 
 armful ov sassifac. Thar's nubbuddy 
 yere but we uns, an' I thes wants yer ter 
 make yerseffs at home. Now, Sam, send in 
 the nog an' let's have the siggars; them outen 
 the top buro drawer, thay's thest splendid. 
 'Tain't offen I smokes a siggar, I'd ruther 
 have my ole cob-pipe, but thay's the best 
 I ever tasted, an' asides, David, I won 'em 
 offen yer 'lection, so ye must help me smoke 
 'em. Yes, Jedge, I won 'em offen ole Square 
 Dox, in Sin-clare county. He bet me that 
 Tom Lawson would carry Sin-clare by two 
 hunderd votes an I thes tuck 'im up, a box 
 of the finest siggars in the store, an so I 
 had Mr. Hill ter pick 'em out, an' thay is 
 good, fer a fac. Yes, Sam, these am thay," 
 as Sam presented a box of Havanas. ' ' But 
 fust fill the mugs." The mugs were filled 
 with the foamy nectar. "An' now, my 
 frien's, here's good hick an' plenty ov it, to 
 you both, an' ter yer famblys."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 225 
 
 The toast was drunk in solemn gravity, 
 and then the cigars were lit. 
 
 " Eh, Jedge ! what yer think ov hit ? " as 
 the Judge in epicurean delight sent the 
 fragrant smoke daintily curling about his 
 head. 
 
 "It is delightful ! I never drew a 
 better." 
 
 ' ' Yes, I thinks so, an' I sent the Square a 
 han'ful thest ter tantalize 'im. But warn't it 
 bully, though, David, the way you socked it 
 to Tom?" 
 
 "Yes. It was very gratifying to me and 
 to my friends, but I have to thank you, Mr. 
 Hardie, for my election. Without you and 
 the help of your friends I should have been 
 beaten." 
 
 "Shoo, man, that's nothin'. Hit done me 
 a power ov good, I kin tell you. I thes 
 wanted ter see the demmycrats on top once 
 more afore I died, an' when the news come 
 that you waz elected shore enough, I waz 
 thes willin' ter go 'long rite then, at once, 
 zif hit had a been the will ov the good 
 Lord to a tucked me." 
 
 "We were all very proud of the victory," 
 said the Judge. 
 
 "In course we ar', an' if David'll do hiz 
 
 level best f er the State an' f er our people an' 
 15
 
 220 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 never go back on the demmycrats, hit 'ill 
 thes be the makin' ov 'ira, shore. But I 
 needn't ter tell 'im, fer I knows as he'll 
 never renig." 
 
 "I should think, sir," the young man 
 answered gravely, "that if I was ever 
 tempted to betray the trust my friends have 
 so generously placed in me, the remem- 
 brance of your goodness, and the thought 
 that it would hurt you for me to fail, would 
 be sufficient to hold me loyal and faithful to 
 the trust. I shall always remember your 
 kindness and the remembrance will inspire 
 me to duty." 
 
 ' ' Yes, I hain't af eard ter trust yer, David. 
 Only, Jedge, somehow I iz a feelin' monstus 
 quare. That nog somehow or 'nuther don't 
 set well on my stummick, or else hits the 
 siggar. I I feels a little sick. Sam, I 
 bleeves yer will have ter come and help me 
 ter bed. Jedge, an' you too, David, I'm 
 sorry, but yer 11 have ter 'scuse me a minnit, 
 I'll have ter lay down a minnit I'm thest 
 ableeged ter lay down." 
 
 " Yes, yes, let me help you. Lean on my 
 arm, please," cried the young man, springing 
 to his side; and almost bodily lifting him in 
 his arms he carried the old gentleman to his 
 room.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 227 
 
 "Send for his physician, at once," said 
 the Judge, as they placed him on the 
 bed. 
 
 " No, no, Jedge, hit's no yuse; the jig's up 
 with me now. I thes feels hit in my bones. 
 This iz death as iz makin' me feel so quare. 
 Hit ain't the nog, nor hit ain't the siggars 
 nuther, but hit's death. Well hit's got ter 
 come, an' az I sed yistrrdy I'd ruther it 'ould 
 come on a Chrismus than army nuther time 
 in the world. Only lemme tell ye, Jedge, 
 afore I can't ; I forgot ter tell ye yisterdy 
 but I'll tell yer now. Hit don't make anny 
 difference whar a man's put, but somehow 
 I'd ruther sleep 'long side ov Abby, my own 
 Abby, as has gone afore, an' so, Jedge, you'll 
 see ter hit that I'm burried 'long side ov her, 
 at Hepsiby Church, over on Harrycane. She 
 sleeps thar under the violits, an' I wants ter 
 sleep thar too, close by her side, so we'll both 
 be together when ole Gabrill comes ter toot 
 his trumpet. You'll mine hit now, won't 
 yer, Jedge ? " 
 
 "Yes, oh yes. Sam, hurry for the 
 doctor," turning to Sam. 
 
 "And you, David," continued the old man 
 without noticing the Judge's interruption, 
 "I'ze monstus glad that you's yere by me. 
 As I wuz a telliu' the Jedge yisterday, nex'
 
 228 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 ter Abby I loves you better 'an anny one 
 else in all the wurrill, an' sense she hain't 
 yere ter hole my han' I wants you ter lem- 
 me hole ter yourn. Hit sorter steddys me 
 like, as I steps off in the dark, an' hit's gittin' 
 monstus dark, David, monstus dark. God 
 
 bless you my boy, an' Abigail Ha ! hit's 
 
 gittin' lighter now, you may let go now, I 
 kin see now," and before the startled friends 
 could realize it the eyes closed, the lips 
 quivered, and without a moan the old man 
 was dead. 
 
 -CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE ESTATE IS INVENTORIED AND BERGAVONIA 
 IS ASTONISHED. 
 
 THE grave, thoughtful words of warning 
 that her father had written her had filled 
 Grace's heart with a nameless dread, and 
 with the dread came the yearning wish to be 
 with him again. She was seriously djfecuss- 
 ing arrangements for a speedy return to 
 America, when a letter came. 
 
 She started back with a nameless dread, as' 
 she saw the strange superscription, and she 
 hurried aside to solve the dread. Her first
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 229 
 
 glance was at the signature, and then a little 
 cry of relief, and hope as well, escaped her lips, 
 as the thought flashed over her senses that 
 it was of his son Judge Winston had written. 
 " Oh, it is of him, of him ! Perhaps he 
 has relented and has asked his father to 
 intercede. Oh, why did he not write him- 
 self ? " she murmured, and then she hushed 
 her gladness and commenced to read : 
 
 My DEAR CHILD: " " Ah that is sweet ; bless his kind 
 good heart ! " she interjected, "My dear child: I know not 
 how to begin the sorrowful task that is mine ; what words of 
 love and sympathy to say to soften the blow. I can only 
 pray the good God, who loves us all and who doeth all 
 things well, to strengthen, support and comfort you in this 
 sad hour of your affliction. Your father, your kind good 
 father, whom you loved so dearly, and who loved you so 
 well, is dead.. He died this Christmas morning, fully con- 
 scious of his approaching end, and seemingly without pain. 
 It was my sad pleasure to be with him at the last. We 
 had called to wish him a happy Christmas, and to share his 
 ever friendly cheer. I had seen him the day before and 
 was adinpnished of the approaching dissolution, but hardly 
 expected it so soon. His death was one that the happiest 
 of us might envy. I looked upon him, as he lay with such 
 a happy smile on his face, and I could wish, without sacri- 
 lege, to be in his place. He spoke of you lovingly, even to 
 the end, and his only grief at going was that it might grieve 
 you. He prayed that you might be comforted, and wished 
 that his demise might make no change in your plans. He 
 spoke of the friends you were with and expressed his glad- 
 ness that you were away, and that in the sympathy of your 
 friends you might find a balm for your sorrow. 
 
 " I wish I knew what words to say that I might comfort
 
 230 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 you, but I know how vain is human consolation. I can 
 only pray that the blessed Saviour who died for us all may 
 comfort and bless you." 
 
 " Your sincere friend. 
 
 " ARTHUR WINSTOX." 
 
 To the young heart, already bruised and 
 bleeding, this was a heavy blow. For a 
 while she was stunned by its pain, and could 
 only sit in mute anguish, too miserable even 
 for tears. But at last the agony softened, 
 and slipping on her knees she found voice 
 for prayer : 
 
 "Alone, alone, all, all alone! God, 
 most merciful Father, let my orphaned deso- 
 lation draw me the closer to Thee ! " and 
 strengthened by the prayer she rose and 
 went in to her friends to tell them of this 
 new and greatest sorrow. 
 
 She had at the first confided to Mrs. Whit- 
 ing all the sad secret of her marriage, and 
 the confidence had all the more strongly knit 
 the ties of their friendship, and now that 
 the poor girl had no one else in all the world 
 to look to for counsel and sympathy, the 
 good lady's heart yearned over her sorrow 
 i as :she would have yearned over a sister. 
 r ' n With the cooing-' words of sympathy only 
 " tnV j^einfle lips" of a" good woman know so 
 
 T * 
 
 well now |p, ,spe$^ $fie comforted the stricken 
 the next American mail
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 231 
 
 brought another letter from Judge Winston, 
 she had gathered back sufficient of her native 
 courage to read it with something like her 
 usual calmness. 
 
 The letter was a business one, but written 
 with a tender deference that made it less 
 hard for her to understand. It gave first 
 the details of the funeral, stating that in 
 accord with her father's dying request, he 
 had been buried in the country churchyard 
 at Hephzibah, by the side of her mother, and 
 then it gave a synopsis of the will ; notifying 
 her of his appointment as executor of the 
 will, and asking to be informed of her wishes 
 in the matter ; begging, in conclusion, her 
 friendly confidence, and giving assurance of 
 his fatherly interest in her welfare, and 
 sincere wish to serve her, but making no 
 reference to the past, or to their -anomalous 
 relations by law, not once alluding to the 
 name of his son. 
 
 She noticed the omission, seemingly stud- 
 ied, and somehow it became an additional 
 burden laid upon her fair young life^ i -uL vm 
 
 It seemed a hopeless cutting off &f 
 
 the desperate but sweet possibility of 'a . 
 
 r * J <sa iaa ono 
 
 understanding between them ; of an exj^a- 
 nation of the dark mistake ; of his coming 
 again, and a happy reconciliation^ which in
 
 232 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 spite of her pride and her womanly resolves, 
 would still cling to her fancy and come in 
 her dreams. 
 
 Surely, if he was ever to come, he would 
 come now, when in her desolate sorrow she 
 stood so much alone, and in so much neod of 
 his countenance ; now, when a sympathetic 
 word from him would be so sweet ; but no, 
 not a word, even of formal condolence, not 
 a line, not so much as a hint of his remem- 
 brance, and she so far awav so lonely and 
 so sad. 
 
 But she was a brave, true lady, ana sne 
 smothered back the sigh that came, and put- 
 ting away the murdered hope, she turned to 
 her desk to answer the Judge's letter. 
 
 And this is what she wrote : 
 
 ' MY KIND FRIEND: Your letters have both come. The 
 first with its sad, sad tidings came a week ago, the last has 
 just been read. 
 
 " I should have answered at first, but my heart was too 
 sorrowful to write. Even now, I find it hard to fashion 
 my distracted thoughts into intelligent expression. My 
 life seemed so sad before, so lonely, so unloved, with only 
 my dear father to bless me, and now he is gone and 1 si;md 
 alone, all, all alone in the world. Ah, those who have; 
 never felt the icy desolation can never know its pain ! 
 None but those who have suffered can realize the truth 
 that: 
 
 " ' The heart's the alembic of sorrow, 
 And tears are the spirits distilled; 
 Mine own has been tried to its utmost, 
 And all of its vials are filled.'
 
 DAVID AND' ABIGAIL. 233 
 
 " But I must not stop to think, or I shall despair, and to 
 despair is to doubt the goodness of God. Neither must 
 you think that I am complaining against the injustice of 
 man; I am only prostrate in the dreariness of my heart 
 desolation, and hardly know what I am saying. You, in 
 your goodness, must pardon the weakness. 
 
 "Touching your last letter: I need not assure you how 
 readily I acquiesce in the wishes of my father. I know 
 that whatever he thought best to be done, will be the best 
 for me. I could wish no better friend than you into whose 
 hands to leave my affairs. If not asking too much of your 
 goodness, I shall beg you to take charge and absolute con- 
 trol of everything ; doing, in all things, all that you may 
 deem proper to be done. 
 
 " In answer to your friendly inquiries as to my future, I 
 must say: that since this sorrow has come I have been too 
 sad to think, and I am almost without a hope or aim in 
 life. My dear father in his last letter had, in his own kind 
 way, tried to prepare my mind for the terrible blow that 
 was so soon to fall, and, alarmed by the warning, I was 
 hastening preparations to return to him, when your letter 
 came, only two days after his, and told me that it \vas, 
 alas ! too late. Now that he is gone there is nothing to 
 draw me back, and I may not care ever to return again. 
 Life holds but little of promise to me, and that little can 
 best be attained by a quiet home abroad. "When I feel 
 stronger, I may be better able to determine what is best, 
 or at least what I shall do. When I so determine I shall 
 write you. In the meantime, I place my interest at home 
 in your keeping. 
 
 " Blessing you for your tender words of sympathy and 
 thanking you for all your kindness I remain : 
 
 " Most Gratefully Yours, 
 
 " GKACE A. WINSTON. 
 " (MAI/TBY TERRACE, Jan. 20th.) 
 
 " To JUDGE ARTHUR WINSTOX." 
 
 It was a fortnight later, and the family
 
 234 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 had gathered at home to celebrate the six- 
 tieth birthday of Judge Winston. The din- 
 ner had been eaten, the toasts drank and 
 the little speeches made, when, gathering in 
 the parlor, a little cantata of song had fol- 
 lowed, when tjie Judge, himself a connois- 
 seur in music, spoke up : 
 
 "Augusta, did you hear Abigail sing ? " 
 
 "Oh, no." 
 
 " Then you missed a rare pleasure. She 
 has the sweetest voice I ever heard. Jenny 
 Lind herself might envy her. It is ravish- 
 ingly sweet." 
 
 " Yes ; I can well imagine how sweetly 
 she might sing. Her voice when she talks 
 has music in it. But when did you hear 
 her, papa ? " 
 
 " The day she was mar I mean the day 
 I first met her. She sang for the rector, 
 and then she sang ' Auld Robin Gray ' for 
 us all, and, would you believe it, she set us 
 all three to blubbering. I could not help the 
 tears to have saved my life. And then to set 
 us all up again, she sang ' The Rat-catcher's 
 Daughter.' It was inimitable, and I had to 
 laugh as heartily as I had. been crying but 
 a moment before. Well, Jake, have you 
 concluded to bring the mail at last ? " as the 
 tardy Jake came in with his basket of mail.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 235 
 
 "Ah, here is a letter from Abigail, now," 
 he exclaimed, as he took up an envelope 
 with a foreign post-mark, and breaking the 
 seal he soberly read it. 
 
 " Is there anything secret ? I hope she 
 is well ? " asked Augusta, with something 
 more than a womanly curiosity. 
 
 "No, there is nothing secret a.bout it. It 
 is a business letter. I will read it to you," 
 and with a heroic effort at steadying his 
 voice, he read the letter aloud. 
 
 " Oh, poor, poor Grace ! how my heart 
 yearns to her ! " cried the sympathetic lady, 
 brushing back the tears. " She is such a 
 sweet girl ! Oh, Walter ! suppose it was me 
 away there, so far away by myself and you 
 cared nothing about me ? I am sure I 
 should die, if for nothing else than to come 
 back and haunt you." 
 
 The young husband could not conceive 
 such an impossible thing and the Judge had 
 to answer. 
 
 " Yes, it is very sad." 
 
 "And she doesn't say a word about me. 
 I wonder if she has forgotten me or is she 
 still afraid ? " continued Augusta. 
 
 "Afraid of what?" asked the Judge, 
 sharply. 
 
 " Oh, afraid of offending brother Dave."
 
 236 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Why should she be afraid of that?" 
 quickly asked her brother. 
 
 "Because when I told her what you 
 wrote 
 
 "Augusta ! you did not tell her that ? " 
 he interrupted fiercely. 
 
 " Yes. That is, when she asked me so 
 piteously not to believe all the cruel things 
 that Mrs. Grundy might say about her, I 
 just couldn't stand it, and I told her that I 
 should believe nothing but that she was the 
 dearest, and purest, and sweetest sister in 
 the world, and I intended to love her always, 
 I didn't care what you might say. And 
 Oh ! brother, you ought to have seen the 
 hurt look in her eyes, as I said it ; and then 
 she asked me if I really meant it, and if you 
 wished me to give her up too ? and I told 
 her yes ; but that I was not going to do it, 
 and that if I had to choose between you two 
 that I would take her, and let you go to the 
 dogs, and I should have done it too, only 
 she said, ' No, blood is thicker than water, 
 and she could not stand between brother 
 and sister.' And then before I could protest 
 or explain, for I didn't mean to tell, she 
 kissed me good-bye and ran up to her own 
 room, and locked herself in, leaving me 
 standing alone in the parlor. I should have
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 237 
 
 followed her, only I knew from her looks 
 that it would do no good. Oh, brother 
 Dave, I think that you have acted like a 
 hound towards her, I don't' care if Walter 
 does hear me say it." 
 
 "Yes, lay on! I deserve it all, and I 
 despise myself worse than you or she or an}* 
 one else can despise me for blighting her 
 life as I have, only, Gussie, you ought not 
 to have told her that, for I did not mean it. " 
 
 "But, Dave, cannot the matter be 
 righted ? What is there wrong between 
 you ? If she is a proper woman, why not 
 seek a reconciliation ? " asked Walter. 
 
 "It is a matter that need not concern 
 you, sir ! " angrily retorted the young man. 
 
 "Very well ! I shall have no more to say 
 about it. Come, Gussie, we will go," and, 
 touchily resenting his brother-in-law's 
 rebuff, he arose and tucking his wife under 
 his arm turned to leave the room. 
 
 "Yes, I am quite ready, only, brother 
 Dave, I am sorry that I hurt you." 
 
 " No, no ; you did not hurt me, for you 
 are quite right. And, Wat, I must apologize 
 for my acerbity of temper. You do not 
 know how utterly impossible your sugges- 
 tion of a reconciliation is, and I would have 
 to humiliate myself too much to explain.
 
 238 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 The matter is all closed now and it cannot 
 be reopened. I am sorry for the lady, and 
 do most tenderly feel for her in this last sad 
 affliction. So far as her orphaned desolation 
 is concerned, one would have to be heartless 
 indeed not to sympathize with her. But as 
 to the future she is not so utterly forlorn. 
 When she recovers from the grief for her 
 father's death, and tires of her loneliness, 
 she has only to let the world know that 
 she is the untrammeled mistress of over a 
 million, to have friends, and sympathetic 
 admirers by the score, and suitors by the 
 battalion," he added almost despitefully. 
 
 "Of course! Such a woman, with such 
 a fortune, cannot fail to attract attention 
 and admiration, and when this sore heals, 
 it will be equally natural for her to crave 
 that homage which is so naturally her 
 due," said the Judge. 
 
 " Of course it is natural. The female 
 Barkis is always willing," and in an un- 
 accountably ill-humor the young man 
 turned from the room. 
 
 "I tell you, Walter, what is the matter 
 with brother Dave! he is jealous already/' 
 whispered Augusta, as she snugly cuddled 
 herself under her husband's paletot, as they 
 walked out into the cold.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 239 
 
 " But, Gussie ! what is the trouble 
 between the manyhow ? Is the girl really 
 bad, that he should leave her ? " 
 
 "No truer, purer, better, or sweeter girl 
 than Grace Hardie ever lived, and it is all 
 brother's fault. You see, the marriage was 
 .arranged for convenience. That is some- 
 how, I don't know how, it was something 
 about money ! I never could tell heads 
 from tails in it. They knew nothing about 
 each other, and of course it was a mer- 
 cenary thing to do, and they are both 
 ashamed of it ! and then, when that wretch 
 Lawson took it up and taunted brother 
 Dave with it so cruelly, it drove him mad ; 
 and in a foolish fit of desperation he 
 determined to break it off without ever 
 seeing her again, and he must have written 
 something very shocking to her ; and she, 
 though a very sweet girl, oh ! you don't 
 know how really sweet she is, but she is as 
 proud as a queen, and as high-strung as 
 brother Dave himself, and so she gave it to 
 him back again as good as he sent, and a 
 little better, I'm thinking, for she is quite 
 capable of it, and before anybody could 
 interfere, or brother Dave could get home to 
 see her, she went away. I do not blame 
 her so much, but I am sorry for them both.
 
 240 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 Had she only waited until he got back, I am 
 certain that they would have made it up, 
 for I know that she loves him, and you can 
 see for yourself that brother Dave is just 
 getting desperate about her. But going 
 away as she did, and snapping him up so 
 quickly, and taking him at his word, and 
 writing him to take steps for a divorce, 
 she quite burned the bridge behind her, and 
 now there is nothing left for them to do, 
 but to get a divorce and try and find some 
 one else to marry, which I suppose will be 
 the upshot of it all. It's a great scandal, and 
 I have quite cried my eyes out about it. 
 Oh ! Walter ! suppose it was you and I so 
 far apart, with all the blue waves rolling 
 between us, this cold, cold night ? It would 
 kill me," and with a little shiver at the dire 
 possibility she cuddled the closer to his side, 
 and in the diversion of his little cooing arts 
 of assurance, that it was not "you and I " 
 the subject was entirely forgotten. 
 
 In due course of time Judge Winston 
 submitted the will of Israel Hardie for 
 probate, and without contest was ordained 
 executor of the vast estate. His first act 
 was to submit to the court a statement of 
 his own indebtedness to the estate, with a 
 certified check to cover the full amount.
 
 DAVlt) AND ABIGAIL. 241 
 
 And then, with that mountain of misery, 
 which had so long weighted him down 
 lifted from his life, he felt a rejuvenation 
 of years that almost made him young 
 again. 
 
 He found the old man's affairs in the best 
 of order ! A simple schedule which would 
 have served as a model of simplicity for a 
 business university, made in his own hand, 
 showed at a glance the exact status of the 
 estate. The most minute item of every 
 transaction had been made with only one 
 exception : no mention, nor trace of mention, 
 was found of the money advanced on account 
 of the Garden estate. Only one entry made 
 on the day the money had been paid could 
 suggest to the Judge the slightest clew to 
 the transaction. That entry was this : 
 
 " $26,480, pade as weddin' gift 7 ter 
 Abigail." 
 
 Nor was any record found of the other sums 
 due by Judge Winston. Under the head of, 
 "Amount spent for Abby's weddin' " was 
 found the following : 
 
 " $20 pade Mr. Snook ferfixin' platform 
 in Parler ter marry on. 
 
 "$60 ditto, Mr. Galseran fer makin' wed- 
 din' bell ov roses. 
 
 "$100 pade fer presents fer the Niggers. 
 16
 
 242 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "$40 pade fer Caik an' orringis an' sich 
 like. 
 
 " $220 totell, God bless her, I wish hit waz 
 moar." 
 
 The amount expended upon the campaign 
 was itemized as follows : 
 
 "$600 pade fer shuze fer the pegbottom 
 wimmin an childern in Sincleer. 
 
 "$200 pade fer dito ditto in Walker 
 county. 
 
 " $1500 pade in cash ter Committy. 
 
 "$50 pade in cash fer Bar-By-ku at 
 Harry-kin. 
 
 " $10 pade fer torches an' so-forth at the 
 huraw after the lecshun. 
 
 "$2,360 toatil all well spent" 
 
 " Do you see this, David ? " asked the Judge, 
 as together they were going through the 
 matter. "If it was not that I know it 
 would hurt her I should insist that this 
 amount be returned to the estate ; what say 
 you ? " 
 
 "No ! I should wish it to stand as it is, a 
 perpetual monument of that old man's good- 
 ness to me. It may inspire me to better 
 things myself. If I were to try to liquidate 
 the debt it would be in giving alms to the poor 
 in his name. I cannot insult his memory by 
 offering to return it to her. But, father, the
 
 DAVID AXD ABIGAIL. 243 
 
 tenclerest thing of all is this statement of the 
 wedding expenses. What could be more ex- 
 pressive of a father's love for his darling 
 than this ? Had it been for a public display 
 one might have expected something like this ; 
 but only for her, and perhaps me, all this 
 costly preparation was made. And then 
 this item : one hundred dollars paid for 
 presents for the negroes ; he even wanted 
 the negroes to be glad. And I only think ! 
 father, what a sacrilege I had no heart 
 in it all ! It is infamous ! I wonder that I 
 was not stricken dumb with the lie on my 
 lips. Oh ! if I had only known ; if we had 
 only met before and under different circum- 
 stances ! how different it all might have 
 been. And he, if he had not been so frank 
 with his friendliness, so profuse with his 
 favors I I might have been led to see. I 
 did not understand him, as I sadly misun- 
 derstood her. Oh ! I do hope that he 
 knows now how it all was and why it was 
 that I so derided him and so reviled her." 
 
 "We can trust, my son, that he is now 
 happily above all such susceptivities, and I 
 am sure that he did undertand you, better 
 than you understood yourself. It was 
 an unfortunate thing that we did not 
 understand him. Ah ! how tender is this
 
 244 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 comment : ' God bless her, I wish it was 
 more ! ' There speaks the fullness of the 
 father's heart for his child. " 
 
 The completed inventory of all the prop- 
 erty returned to the court footed up to over 
 fourteen hundred thousand dollars, a sum 
 that startled the community with its magni- 
 tude ; for while Israel Hardie had been ac- 
 counted a rich man, there were few, even 
 among his most intimate friends who had 
 any conception of the surprising munifi- 
 cence of his fortune. 
 
 "Ah ! " cried Mrs. Grundy, " no wonder 
 the high-bred Mr. Winston could afford to 
 marry the girl, all smirched as she was, for 
 such a princely fortune." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A LITTLE BIRD FLEW ACROSS THE OCEAN AND 
 WHISPERED SOMETHING TO DAVID. 
 
 TIME, which touches with healing fingers 
 all nature's wounds, is no less kind to the 
 hurts which quiver in the human heart, and 
 as the days went by, the burden, which 
 seemed at first greater than she could bear, 
 was lifted from her life and something of its
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 245 
 
 old-time gladness once again sparkled in 
 the eye and trilled in the song of the groom- 
 less bride, and when the summer came, 
 bringing a respite to Mr. Whiting from 
 the drudgery of the Cotton Exchange, and 
 all things were ready for the long-promised 
 sight-seeing on the Continent, she was as 
 radiant in spirit as she was peerless in 
 beauty and vigorous in health and in 
 strength. And so, one pleasant morning in 
 the rosy June, they closed the establishment 
 at Maltby Terrace and turning over the keys 
 of the cottage to a keeper they began their 
 journey. But as their journey lay through 
 ways which are traversed to-day, I need not 
 follow them with a detail of its scenes. 
 The sights they saw then are the sights to 
 be seen to-day, only the journey as it is now 
 made by steam, in swallow-flights from 
 city to city, had then to be made, in greater 
 part, in slow-plodding, and provokingly 
 lumbersome diligences, loitering by way- 
 sides and picking up stray bits of enjoyment, 
 not now dreamed of by the more expeditious 
 voyager. 
 
 All through the summer days they lin- 
 gered amid the pleasant valleys that lay in 
 the shadow of the Alps, and when the 
 frosty breath of autumn began to blow
 
 246 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 crisp and chill, they turned southward, to- 
 wards the sunny plains of Italy. Rome, 
 Naples, Genoa, Leghorn and Florence were 
 visited, and duly ransacked for curiosities. 
 From each place little predatory excursions 
 were made into the surrounding campag- 
 nas ; looking up, and touching, with not 
 irreverent fingers, the local bric-d-brac of 
 the shadowy ages, long-ago gone. 
 
 It was in one of these little sallies from 
 Florence, one soft sunny morning, that 
 they came across a spot so pretty in its 
 framework of hill and woods, with its out- 
 look across the valley below, so restful in 
 its pastoral beauty, that they all had to in- 
 stinctively halt to gaze and admire. 
 
 " How like the view from the plantation 
 house at home," said Grace, after a few 
 moments, silent wonder at the surprising 
 similitude. "I have seen nothing before 
 this that conveyed even a suggestion of 
 home." 
 
 "This is very pretty, and the skies are 
 soft like the skies of our own sunny south," 
 answered Mrs. Whiting. 
 
 U I think I should like to live here. I 
 wonder if the cottage, with its little plat of 
 garden, could be bought ? " Grace queried, 
 half to herself.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL 247 
 
 " It could be leased, of course ; only if the 
 rascally proprietor was to know that you 
 wanted it he would ask a double price," an- 
 swered Mr. Whiting. 
 
 " Then I do want it. It may shock you 
 to know of my sudden whim, but I feel as if 
 this must bo my home. Mr. Whiting, will 
 you please help me to secure it ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; only you must not be too 
 precipitate. Let us see if we can get a look 
 through the house. Antinelli, ask the good 
 lady if we can stop in for awhile. Tell her 
 that we are travelers looking up matters for 
 a book, with pictures in it, and we will put 
 her and her child in the picture." 
 
 Antinelli, their guide, hurried in to return 
 in a moment to say that "The signora bids 
 the ladies welcome." 
 
 The inspection was satisfactory : every- 
 thing was charming, and the sudden whim 
 was resolved into a settled purpose to buy 
 the cottage, and to make it her home. 
 Home ! Ah, how the weary heart longed 
 for the sacred shadow of home ! 
 
 Luckily the place could be had, the cot- 
 tage having been taken the year before by a 
 rich Florentine merchant, and fitted up in 
 the most elegant style for a home for his 
 bride, but with the waning of the honey-
 
 248 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 moon, the bride tired of its rural solitude, 
 and began to sigh for the more congenial 
 gayeties of the city, with such a pathetic 
 charm in her eyes that the young husband, 
 for the sake of the pathetic eyes, had to 
 abandon his pretty nest to the care of a 
 keeper, and carry his birdie back to a gilded 
 cage in the city. He would doubtless be 
 willing to sell it now, on the most favorable 
 terms. 
 
 The United States consul was consulted, 
 and after looking into the matter, as well as 
 investigating the character of the vicinage, 
 and finding nothing objectionable in either, 
 he concluded the purchase for her. And 
 this is how it came about that on the twen- 
 tieth of October, the anniversary of her 
 wedding day, the virgin bride of a year took 
 possession of her home, so far away among 
 strangers, in that strange land beyond the 
 sea. 
 
 The faithful Nanny was with her. For 
 no consideration of freedom, so artfully 
 whispered in her ear, could induce her to 
 leave her darling young mistress. The 
 gardener and his wife, whom she found in 
 charge of the place, were retained ; a cook 
 and coachman were added, and the com- 
 plement of her household was perfected.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 249 
 
 Miss Whiting would remain with her all 
 winter ; Mr. Whiting had to hurry back to 
 Liverpool to commence again the drudgery 
 of the office and the cotton-yard ; his wife 
 went with him, but both would rejoin her 
 in the early summer to resume the delight- 
 ful rambles, next time to be projected into 
 the Levant, and a voyage up the Nile. 
 
 Time, which had thus soothed, the 
 bruised and broken spirit and filled the 
 life of the despised wife with a rational and 
 restful content, had not been nearly so 
 gracious to the husband. Each load that 
 had been lifted from her life seemed by the 
 sport of the Parcse to have been transferred 
 to his. 
 
 It seemed a grim irony of Lachesis, to 
 allot to these two, whom she had so capri- 
 ciously coupled together, a certain portion of 
 misery, and the burden which one cast off, 
 had to be taken up and borne by the other. 
 Had they been together, a mutual strength 
 might have sufficed for a mutual load, but 
 being so far apart they could not share the 
 burden, and one at a time they had to 
 stagger under it alone. 
 
 The lapse of days, that softened the 
 memory of her sorrow, only gave poignancy 
 to the remorse of his, and if there ever was
 
 250 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 a thoroughly miserable man in the world 
 David Winston was one. But he bore his 
 burden with a manly dignity ; no one, not 
 even his father, ever heard a word or sigh 
 of complaint. Happily for the ultimate 
 safety of his mind he found in the distract- 
 ing duties of his profession a respite, and in 
 doctoring the business troubles of his clients 
 he found a salve for his own. 
 
 When the congress opened, in December, 
 he found in its excitement a new diversion. 
 With all the enthusiasm of his young South- 
 ern nature he entered in the exciting and 
 ever memorable contest for the Speakership, 
 and in its partisan bitterness he forgot for a 
 time the nameless yearning that had so con- 
 stantly gnawed at his heart. 
 
 With a modest diffidence he took his 
 place, but without arrogant assertion he 
 soon made his way to the front, where he 
 stood as one of the recognized leaders of his 
 party. 
 
 The session was a long and bitter one, and 
 was only adjourned late in the summer, that 
 the members might return home to enter a 
 hurried canvass for re-election. 
 
 It is a hard thing in our American system, 
 that a young congressman- can only have a 
 half chance to demonstrate his fitness for his
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 251 
 
 place. His first term is not yet half out, 
 and he is hardly inducted into the routine of 
 business, before he is called upon by an im- 
 patient constituency to show proof of ' his 
 capacity by exhibiting his record, a record 
 the poor devil has had no possible chance to 
 make. 
 
 Without opposition Winston was re- 
 nominated by his party for re-election. His 
 embryo record had been approved by his 
 party leaders, and he was again put before 
 the sovereigns for their august endorse- 
 ment. But the sovereigns themselves are 
 not always so easily satisfied as the party 
 leaders, and it was uneasily felt that the 
 hardest work would have to be done to pla- 
 cate the fickle herd. 
 
 The whigs had displayed a more judicious 
 choice in the selection of their candidate. 
 Lawson was retired, and Judge Vassar, an 
 adroit politician and popular speaker, had 
 been put in the arena, and as the question of 
 shoe soles was not expected to figure in the 
 canvass, the race would have to be run up 
 on more equal chances, and a higher plane. 
 
 It was a more dignified canvass than be- 
 fore, but not nearly so enthusiastic. It was 
 naturally a whig district, but with the pres- 
 tige of his former triumph, Winston entered
 
 252 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 the field with a comfortable assurance of 
 success. But when the election came off, 
 and the returns began to come in, showing 
 losses here, and losses there, and surprising 
 losses everywhere, his assurance began to 
 ooze all away, and with a sickly feeling of 
 disgust he began to prepare his mind for 
 defeat. The heavy weight of the pegbot- 
 toms seemed to have been cast upon the 
 opposite scale, and the weight of the pegbot- 
 toms was the pea that regulated the political 
 beam. He missed the adjusting hand of 
 old Israel Hardie to regulate the pea, and he 
 felt, not without a vague sense of retribu- 
 tive justice, that he had been weighed and 
 found wanting. Only one more county was 
 to be heard from, that was Walker, a whig 
 county, and there was but slight chance that 
 he could carry that, and, unless he did carry 
 that, he was beaten. If Hurricane came in 
 gallantly for him as it had done before, 
 there was a possibility of his election, albeit 
 by the skin of his teeth. But would Hurri- 
 cane come in ? Ah, would it ! 
 
 At last, after a tantalizing delay, the news 
 from Walker came in. Esquire Wheeler him- 
 self brought the returns and they gave 
 Winston the victory. Old Hurricane came 
 hi as one man for Israel Hardie's daughter's
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 253 
 
 husband, and put him in by precisely ten 
 votes. 
 
 "Yes, sir, Mr. Winston, I tell you what's 
 a fact, it was a mighty tight squeeze, but we 
 made it. I golly ! I thought once that we 
 was gone up and I tried to hedge on my 
 bets but I couldn't do it. No, sir-ee, I was 
 completely swampt, when old Milo Sneed 
 got a letter from your wife 
 
 " From my wife ?" with a start. 
 
 " Yes, from little Abby, begging him and 
 all the kin to do their best for you, and 
 sending two hundred dollars for barbe- 
 cues and other things, you understand, 
 and that fixed it. You see they had some- 
 how or other heard some queer tales 
 about the way you two were living, and they 
 were uncertain which way to go, until the 
 letter came, and that decided them, and they 
 just turned and followed Old Milo like 
 a passel ov sheep following a bell-weather. 
 You see he gave a barbecue and knocked the 
 head out of a barrel of whisky, and told 
 everybody that it was little Abby's treat, and 
 they just come in with a whoop, over two 
 hundred solid, and now you are hunky and 
 so am I ; I won my bets, two hundred dol- 
 lars, besides a pair of boots for Tom, pegbot- 
 tom at that. Whoop-pee, come, old, boy
 
 254 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 shake, and lets go over to Charley George's 
 and take a horn." 
 
 "Thanks, I am very grateful for your 
 good news and grateful for your support, 
 but you must excuse me from the horn. I 
 have a headache now. You will find the 
 boys, though, and tell them that it is my 
 treat." 
 
 " What, are you not dead certain that you 
 are out of the woods yet ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! There is no longer doubt of my 
 election, thanks to your good report," and 
 lowering his breath to a secret heart-whisper, 
 he added, "and thanks to the sweet lady. 
 It must be to her that I again owe my elec- 
 tion. Ah, well ! I had rather owe it to her 
 than to any one else in all the world. May 
 heaven bless her sweet heart." 
 
 The surprising turn of affairs electrified 
 democratic headquarters, and another " hoo- 
 raw" was inaugurated, and Editor Yates 
 got out his roosters from their ignominious 
 hiding-place, and had them to crow again, 
 as tantalizingly as before, even though they 
 had but a meager majority of ten votes to 
 crow over. 
 
 The worthy editor missed the thousand- 
 dollar windfall, though, and Miss Carrie got 
 no Christmas present this time, but as she
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 255 
 
 was soon to be married, anyway, it did not 
 so much matter. 
 
 That night after he had made his speech 
 at the "hooraw," David Winston went to 
 his room, and after sitting awhile in a sober, 
 far-away thought, he turned up the light and 
 wrote : 
 
 " M[LO SNEED, ESQB. 
 
 " MY DEAB SIR: 
 
 "I write to thank you, and, through you, to thank my 
 friends for your kindly help in my election, and to assure 
 you that any claim you, or any of them, may ever make 
 upon my gratitude will be gladly recognized. 
 
 " Our good friend, Esquire Wheeler, has told me of your 
 valuable services. He also, stated that you had, pending 
 the contest, received a letter from Mrs. Winston. Now, sir, 
 I may not try to explain to you why I should wish to see 
 the letter, but as I do most earnestly wish to see it, I trust 
 that if, without any violation of confidence you can do so, 
 you will send it to me, under the solemn pledge on my part 
 of its safe return to you. I enclose envelope and stamps. 
 
 " Your compliance with this request will add another to 
 the many obligations I already owe you. 
 " Your friend, 
 
 " DAVID E. WINSTON." 
 
 Slight wonder was it that he was puzzled 
 to explain to Mr. Sneed the reason why he 
 should wish to see his wife's letter, when to 
 have saved his life he could not have ex- 
 plained to himself why such a hungry, 
 almost passionate yearning had. possessed 
 him to see it.
 
 256 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 Nor was the yearning appeased until a 
 week later, when the slow-moving mails 
 brought it, carefully enclosed in a scrawl 
 from Mr. Sneed : 
 
 " DEER SUB, I sends cuzzin Abby's letter, an' you muss be 
 shore an' sen' it back ter me, fer I wuddent take a forty- 
 dollar bill fer it. 
 
 " MILO SXEED. 
 " Ps. dident we wool 'em thow ? " 
 
 Tenderly he opened the precious missive, 
 still redolent with the fragrance of her 
 sachet, and then softly kissing the name he 
 read : 
 
 " My FRIEND AND COUSIN: 
 
 " You may possibly be surprised to hear from me, in my 
 far-away home, but I am not sd far away that my heart 
 does not go fondly back to its dear old home in America, 
 and to the dear friends I have there. I often think of 
 them, and never without silently blessing them. I 
 receive the papers every week and they always bring me 
 welcome tidings. I see by the Democratic Clarion, that 
 Mr. Winston is a candidate for re-election. My dear 
 father told me once, how true you and your friends were 
 to him before, and how glad it made him to know it. Were 
 he still alive I am sure that he would ask you to help us 
 now. Will you think it selfish in me to ask you myself ? 
 If you can, I trust you will help him. I shall thank you 
 for every word you may speak in his behalf, as sincerely as 
 if spoken for my own self, and to aid you in the good 
 cause, I enclose you a draft on the firm of Whiting, Stone 
 & Co., of Charleston, for two hundred dollars ; any merchant 
 in your town will cash it for you.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 257 
 
 " I will be glad to hear from you, and if there is anything 
 that I can do for you, please let me know, and I trust that 
 you will ever find me as ready and willing to help you as 
 you have always found my father. 
 
 " Truly your friend and cousin, 
 
 " GRACE ABIGAIL WINSTON, 
 " FLORENCE, ITALY, Oct. ist. 
 
 P. S. I should have told you that I am living in the 
 country, a few miles from the city of Florence, but I send 
 in to the United States consulate every day for my mail, 
 and should you write to me, you will direct your letter thus : 
 MRS. G. A. WINSTON, 
 "Care of United States Consulate, 
 
 "FLORENCE, ITALY. 
 
 " This is a beautiful country but not nearly so beautiful as 
 our own." 
 
 "Ah! Sweetheart, sweet sweetheart; 
 poor, tender, gentle heart ; how kind it was 
 in her to do this for me ! how thoughtful 
 and how kind to think of me at all ! Ah ! 
 what would I not give to go to her, to stand 
 before her as a man, and to ask her to love 
 me ; to be to me in truth what she is in the 
 mockery of a name, only. Ah ! darling 
 darling ! I can only bless you, and I am 
 not even worthy to do that," and again kiss- 
 ing the letter he tenderly folded it away to 
 be sent back to its fortunate keeper. 
 
 That evening he called upon his sister, 
 when the all-absorbing subject of his re- 
 election was brought up :
 
 258 
 
 "And do you know, sister, that it was all 
 owing to her, to Grace, I mean ? " he asked. 
 
 "To Grace! how?" 
 
 "She wrote to her kinsman and friends 
 in Walker and secured their help for me ! 
 It was only that that saved me. " 
 
 " Oh ! is that so ? I am so glad, and, 
 brother Dave, let me tell you, and is it not 
 a singular coincidence ? I have just heard 
 from her this very day myself." 
 
 " Oh ! have you ? " with an eager interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 "Yes! I have a letter from Pauline," 
 Pauline was her sister-in-law, "and she 
 writes how they stumbled upon a Mrs. 
 Winston, near Florence, and she wants to 
 know if she is any kin to me. But, here 
 Kate, take the baby and I will get the letter 
 and let you read it for yourself." 
 
 " Give me baby." 
 
 " Oh ! yes ; go to Unky Davy. Isn't he a 
 tweet 'itty feller ? Muzzer's 'ittle darlin," 
 surrendering the baby with a kiss, and 
 hurrying up to her room for Pauline's let- 
 ter. 
 
 "Yes, here it is ! It only came to-day. I 
 I will read it to you," she cried, returning 
 in a minute, and seating herself close to the 
 lamp she read :
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 259 
 
 " PALAZZO DE GOJTDA, 
 
 " FLORENCE, Oct. 18th. 
 " MY DEAR SISTER : 
 
 I wrote you from Parma, only a day or two ago, but I 
 have to write again so soon to tell you about one of the 
 queerest surprises that we have yet had. Well ! You see 
 yesterday, we spent in doing the city, visiting the galleries 
 and what not, and so this morning it looked so pretty out- 
 doors that Uncle Jake thought that we would take a little 
 excursion into the country (or compayna, as they call it 
 here), to see the way the Italians farm. You see he, and 
 mamma, are looking out for new kinks in farming, and 
 mamma wanted to see how they raised maccaroni ; she 
 thinks that with our fine climate we can raise it as well on the 
 plantation as they can here. And so, after an early break- 
 fast a long, gawky guide came around with an open barouche 
 for mamma and Sue and me, and a scrawny- looking horse for 
 Uncle Jake. The weather promised just splendid, and we 
 started out in high glee, expecting to make a day of it, but 
 we hadn' t gone more than five or six miles before all at 
 once a storm rose up and there we were, with Sue threat- 
 ened with a chill anyhow. We were in a terrible pickle, 
 until a turn in the road brought us .in sight of one of the 
 coziest, cunningest, loveliest little nests of a cottage you 
 ever saw. And what do you think we saw grinning at the 
 gate ? I just know you could never guess in all your born 
 days and so I will tell you ; will you believe it ? It was the 
 coal-black face, white eyes and ivory teeth of a sure 
 enough negro girl, grinning from ear to ear. It likjd to 
 have taken my breath to see her, and my very heart was 
 glad. It was the first honest face we had seen since we 
 had touched the Continent. ' Ah ! ' says mamma, ' we 
 can find shelter here,' and she told the guide by signs to 
 stop. (You see the dolt can't understand a word we say 
 although he assured Uncle Jake that. ' Me speakee vera 
 weel Anglice,' when he can't speak it at all). However we 
 pay him back in Italian just as bad.' So Uncle Jake told
 
 260 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 him to ask the negro if we could get shelter from the 
 storm, and he jabbered something to her when she broke 
 and ran into the house as if we had been a band of brigands 
 come to plunder the place. But soon a lady came out, and 
 oh I sister Gussie ! you should only see that lady, the 
 pretiest and sweetest face I ever looked upon. She re- 
 minded me at once of the picture of the Madonna, and we 
 all three whispered in the same breath, ' Oh ! how beau- 
 tiful ! ' She jabbered out something to U ncle Jake who 
 had ridden forward to the gate, and was bowing with his 
 hat off and staring with all his eyes, when the guide spoke 
 something to her in the same outlandish lingo, when, with 
 a smile, she came forward, quite to the gate, and spoke in 
 the sweetest of English : " Your guide tells me you are 
 English tourists and wish shelter from the storm. I shall 
 be very glad to offer mine," and then she opened the gate, 
 and her manner was so cordial and sweet that we all lum- 
 bled out at once and walked right in, and I felt at home 
 the very minute I put my foot in the door. And then the 
 negro, she was just as much like home as home could be 
 itself, and I could hardly keep my hands off from kissing 
 her, black as she was. Everything was so nice and so free 
 and so home-like, that we were not long in getting ac- 
 quainted, for when mamma told her that we were not 
 Englishmen at all, but Americans, and from the south at 
 that, she looked just like she had found a long-lost tribe of 
 cousins, and uncles, and aunts, and then she said, with 
 a kind of sad smile, that she was from the south too, and 
 that only made us the closer acquainted. She is a Charles- 
 ton lady, and with another one, there are two of them, a 
 Miss Whiting from the same city, is living here all by 
 themselves. Their relative, Mr. Whiting, is a rich cotton 
 merchant and stays the most of his time in Liverpool. All 
 this I found out from the negro girl, Nanny is her name. 
 The storm lasted until afternoon and we had to stay for 
 dinner, which was a treat, I assure you. (Sue is rolling all 
 over the bed now, for eating too much of the snow-white
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 261 
 
 honey.) After dinner we had music, and such music ! the 
 sweetest song I ever heard. Sue commenced it; she saw the 
 piano in the little parlor and commenced to bang away, 
 which led to me, and then Uncle Jake to be polite asked 
 her for a song, which, to be polite, she had to sing of course. 
 She sang l Within' a Mile o' Edinboro' Town ' and she just 
 completely captivated us all. It fairly lifted Uncle Jake 
 out of his boots, and I will tell you seriously, sister 
 Gussie, Uncle Jake has met his fate at last. He is just 
 dead in love with her and he has altered all our plans. We 
 were to have started to Rome to-morrow, but he has stopped 
 the baggage and taken rooms here for a month. And what 
 is funniest of all mamma encourages him in it, and is as 
 much pleased with the match as he is. If the lady is all 
 right, and I am sure she is, for such a sweet face could not 
 hide anything wrong there is nothing but goodness written 
 all over it I think myself that Uncle Jake will do well to get 
 her. But, sister, the strangest part of it all is her name ; 
 Her name is Winston. I wonder if she is any kin to your 
 people ? She is a widow and very rich ; (this much 
 mamma wormed out of Miss Whiting, who is also a very 
 nice person.) She has no children, though, and it would 
 make no difference with Uncle Jake if she had a dozen, he 
 would be willing to lump them all to get her. I don't think 
 she ever had any, for she looks too young and is as fresh 
 and rosy as you were the night you were married. We have 
 tried to find out all we could through the guide but he is 
 too stupid to know anything, and all he can tell is that she 
 is called the Lady Princess. She is lovely enough for a 
 princess and gracious enough for a queen, but she doesn't 
 pretend to be either. Uncle Jake is completely on his head 
 about her, and while he is always talking about her himself 
 'he flares up like a fire cracker if we so much as hint any- 
 thing wrong about her. This is a sure sign, mamma says. 
 "We are going out again to-morrow, and she has prom- 
 ised to come in the next day after to show us all the rarer 
 sights of the city, which strangers cannot find for them-
 
 262 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 selves. You may wonder at this rapid progress in a chance 
 acquaintance, but you should know that when one is so far 
 away from home a common nationality makes us all akin. 
 The first sight of Nanny, the negro girl, endeared them to 
 us at once, and Nanny seemed just as glad to see us. 
 
 " But I have spun this letter to a tiresome length. I will 
 write again, soon, and let you know how Uncle Jake is mak- 
 ing it. If she is to be won, and a dear good, kind hearted 
 and handsome gentleman can win her, we will carry a new 
 aunt back home with us, or else leave the best uncle in 
 all the world behind back here. 
 
 " My love to brother Wat. Kiss baby for me and when 
 you see Charlie tell him that I am still as mad as ever. 
 " Your loving Sister, 
 
 " PAULIXE F. GUAVES." 
 
 "There, isn't that a romance for you?" 
 asked the sister as she finished the letter. 
 
 "It promises to be, at any rate. It is 
 ridiculous ! the idea of that conceited old 
 fool Jake, aspiring to her hand ; she wouldn't 
 think of such a thing." 
 
 "But why not ? He is not so old ; he is 
 handsome, rich and accomplished, and is 
 really a good catch for any girl. I, entre 
 nous," with a little blush, "came very near 
 setting my cap for him myself, before 
 Walter came. But, brother Dave, could she 
 marry him or any other man and you still 
 living ? Did your marriage really count for 
 nothing?" 
 
 "Yes, for nothing, or less than nothing. 
 It was a hollow mockery and can be set aside.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 263 
 
 I will release her whenever she asks it. I 
 ought not, perhaps to wait for her to ask it, 
 but it is her right. She understands that 
 she has only to petition for a divorce, for one 
 to be granted. Even were I dog enough to 
 contest it she could get it anyhow. But I 
 shall not contest ; I shall do all I possibly 
 can to forward her wishes, only somehow it 
 would hurt me to see her throw herself away 
 on such a 'masher' as Jake Gorman. 
 Heigh-ho ! But it can be none of my busi- 
 ness, and if he is lucky enough to win her, 
 well, he will have to wear her. But, Gussie, 
 it was a miserable thing for me that we ever 
 met. But the idea of that old blas, bald- 
 headed bachelor winning such a peerless 
 woman ! Fudge ! Here, devil take it, take 
 the baby. It makes me sick to think about 
 it. Why, in the name of goodness, didn't 
 you catch him yourself, that would have 
 settled his hash. Good-bye ! I leave for 
 Washington to-night. Write as soon as you 
 hear from Miss Pauline and let me know 
 how the farce turns out. Tell Pauline to 
 throw Charlie over, and if this thing does 
 happen, I will marry her myself just for 
 spite." 
 
 " Yes, and you will do well to get her, if, 
 after throwing away such a girl as Grace,
 
 264 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 you could ever have the heart to marry 
 another. Do you know that I always did 
 think that you were silly in not courting 
 Pauline at first, instead of wasting yourself 
 on that incorrigible flirt, .Gertrude Garden." 
 
 "Perhaps so. But, then I always was a 
 fool where women were concerned. But tell 
 me : do you ever hear of, or see Gertrude ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I saw her yesterday." 
 
 " Ah ! What was she doing ? " 
 
 " Oh ! you can never guess." 
 
 " Chewing tulu?" 
 
 " Pshaw! No." 
 
 "Then tell me?" 
 
 " Oh ! I know it will shock you, but then 
 it is so ; like the Ettrick Shepherd's quon- 
 dam belle, in the Noctes Ambrosianae she 
 was ' sitting on the porch sooklin' twins.' ' 
 
 "Good Lord ! what a happy deliverance ! " 
 
 "Yes, but they were really pretty babies, 
 and she seemed just as proud of them as if 
 they had been triplets. Her husband, Mr. 
 Hardie, they say has turned out to be a first- 
 rate fellow and is devoted to her. But they 
 do say that she henpecks him awfully. 
 
 "Good, good! layon, Macduff." But now 
 I must go. I warn you to keep a sharp look- 
 out on Miss Pauline. I am just desperate 
 enough for any exploit. Heigh-ho ! Good- 
 bye."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CONJUNCTION OF VENUS AND JUPITER. 
 
 IT was not altogether an unaccountable 
 pique that hurried the young congressman 
 back to Washington. His help was needed 
 in finishing up much left-over committee 
 work, in order to be ready for the opening 
 of the coming session. 
 
 His party had been successful all along 
 the line, and in addition to the Adminis- 
 tration would have a safe working majority 
 in both houses. 
 
 This was a matter of party pride, and of 
 party gratulation, and, added to the satis- 
 faction of his own re-election, should have 
 made the young statesman hilarious in 
 spirits, and put him in good humor with 
 himself and with all mankind. But some- 
 how the happy concatenation failed of its 
 enthusiasm, and his spirits were strangely 
 dull, and his face wore such a look of sober 
 dejection that strangers in passing had to 
 turn to note it. His friends wondered at 
 it, and he himself was a little puzzled to
 
 266 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 know. He felt as a wanderer in the dark 
 must feel, when, lifted up by the sudden 
 gleam of a light ahead, sees the light as 
 suddenly flicker out, leaving him to grope 
 his way through the inky darkness, more 
 helpless than ever. Indeed, something of 
 this character was in truth the cause of his 
 despondency. The unexpected but timely 
 interest manifested by his discarded wife, 
 in his welfare, had flashed up like a aurora 
 of promise to his lonely way and uncon- 
 sciously to himself had lifted his spirits up 
 out of their disconsolate depths, when, like a 
 muffler, dropped without warning, came the 
 gossipy letter of Miss Pauline Graves, and 
 now his way seemed rougher than ever, and 
 the darkness more dreaiy. 
 
 He knew Jake Gorman to be a prince 
 among women ; rich, handsome, accom- 
 plished, and possessing that rare magnetism 
 which seems to attract with unerring pre- 
 cision the delicately poised needle of social 
 femininity, and knowing him thus he felt him 
 to be -a dangerous, if not invincible rival. 
 
 That he, Gorman, was not a benedict was 
 not for the want of a Beatrice. He could, out 
 of the loveliest of all the lovely women of 
 his acquaintance, have picked his choice. 
 Ever since he had returned from the Univer-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 267 
 
 sity a dashing young Bachelor of Arts, he had 
 been the object of all the scheming mammas 
 as well as the craze of all the giddy young 
 ladies. That none had captured him was less 
 their fault, either of charms or of effort, 
 than the fault of his own perverse fancy. 
 None had yet been able to touch that tender 
 spot, which we are to suppose is to be found in 
 every manly heart. The one who did touch 
 it would certainly be his wife, for surely no 
 woman, heart-whole and fancy free, could 
 resist the blandishments of such a man. All 
 these things David Winston knew, for they 
 had been friends since boyhood, and now to 
 be told that she, the peerless woman who 
 was so much and yet so little to him; so 
 near and yet so far away, and in whose 
 presence he was henceforth to stand a moral 
 pariah, was the one woman who had touched 
 that exclusive heart; the one woman in all 
 the wide, wide world whom Jake Gorman had 
 determined to marry, was to be told that the 
 future was to hold nothing of love ; life 
 nothing of sweetness for him, and that all 
 through the dreary way he must walk 
 through darkness and tread upon ashes. 
 
 Little wonder, then, was it, that the 
 thought sobered him, and that the pleasing 
 lines of his handsome face were often knit
 
 268 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 into ugly frowns. But he was no coward, 
 no weakling in moral stamina, albeit, he did 
 waver once in cowardly indecision, as he 
 debated the propriety of resigning his place 
 in congress and hurrying abroad to find her, 
 and, all unworthy as he was, to force him- 
 self into her presence, and upon her life, to 
 claim and to seize her as his own, and to 
 trust to a lifetime of tenderness to win back 
 her respect, if not her love. 
 
 "But, no," he murmured, sadly, after the 
 struggle had ended and his manliness had 
 conquered, " I have no right to trouble her 
 ever again. If Jake loves her, as I am sure 
 he must love her, he will win her love, and 
 she will be happy. It is her right to love 
 and be loved, and Jake Gorman, much as I 
 find myself beginning to hate him, will per- 
 haps make her a good husband. Confound 
 him ! I could call him out. But no, I shall 
 not interfere, but will take all the blame 
 upon myself and have the courts to release 
 her whenever she asks it." 
 
 And thus resolved, he put his foot firmly 
 down upon it and addressed himself with re- 
 doubled zeal to his public duties. 
 
 It was nearly a month before he heard 
 anything further from Miss Pauline Graves, 
 and then his sister only sent him an extract
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL, 269 
 
 from her last letter. It was to the point and 
 read as follows : 
 
 "Well, after doing his level best, looking his sweetest, 
 dressing his neatest, wasting a mill-pond full of perfume, 
 and aided and abetted by mamma, Sue, and me putting in 
 a good word every chance we got, poor Uncle Jake has got 
 it at last ; the most complete and flattest sit-down upon you 
 ever saw, and now he is the most utterly flabbergasted old 
 bachelor you ever heard of in all your life. It is really 
 pitiful to see him. It was so unexpected you see. It was his 
 first, and I am sure it will be his last, for he really loved 
 the lady, as well he may, for a more lovely and lovable 
 woman I never saw. 
 
 I do wish that you could see her, as I did the other day, as, 
 all unbeknown to her I watched her sitting in her cool sum- 
 mer dress looking through the window, away out over the 
 fields as if her thoughts had crossed the wide ocean in search 
 of a truant sweetheart, or else a runaway husband. I won- 
 dered if she wasn't thinking of ' the late lamented,' and I 
 thought then that it was a bad sign for Uncle Jake. But her 
 conduct throughout the whole matter has been very nice, 
 and as proper as proper could be, just such as one might 
 expect from a high-born, true-hearted lady. She did not 
 court his attentions, but was only glad to see us all be- 
 cause we were Americans and from the South, but she had 
 no more idea of Uncle Jake's courting her than she had of 
 mamma herself . It was only when he began to let his little 
 sighs pop out, and to wall his eyes up to the ceiling when 
 she sang for us that she began to smell a mouse, and then 
 you ought to have seen the way she hauled in her horns and 
 crawled back in her shell like a scared snail. Uncle Jake 
 thought that it was only a little coquettish finesse she was 
 practicing to toll him on, so he bristled up the bolder, and 
 giving me the wink yesterday to get out of the room, he 
 hemmed her in a corner and went down on his knees in 
 cavalier style and popped the question straight out (I was
 
 270 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 peeping all the while through the key-hole), but, alas for 
 Uncle Jake, it was no go, and now we are all in a hurly-burly 
 packing up to get away. Uncle Jake is not mad, but like the 
 ghost in Hamlet he wears a sorrowing countenance. He 
 thinks that it is all because of the Count that she kicked him. 
 A Count Pacetti, a rich nobleman, who, it is said, is negotiat- 
 ing with the American Consul for her hand, and it is this 
 that cuts him, but he does not blame her, only I would be 
 sorry for Uncle Jake to meet him, for I am sure he would 
 spit in his face. He is desperate enough for anything." 
 
 "This," added Augusta, in her letter, "is all she says 
 about it, and so you see it all turns out just as I told you so. 
 If she ever marries again it will be to some count, or earl, 
 or duke, or maybe a prince, who will give her the social dis- 
 tinction she deserves. She is fitted to shine in any court, 
 and I do not blame her for aspiring to its honors, only I 
 could just choke you for letting her go. Babie has three 
 more teeth and is just as sweet as he can be. I started to 
 read your speech, and was very proud of it, but babie jerked 
 it out of my hands and tore it into shreds. He is just 
 the cutest little fellow you ever saw. Papa got a letter 
 from Grace herself, yesterday, asking his advice about sell- 
 ing her house on Colbert Avenue, and the furniture, so you 
 see that she has no idea of ever coming back again, and I 
 just bet you anything that Uncle Jake is right about that 
 Count. Only think of Grace as the Countess Pacetti ! I 
 catch myself courtesying to her. Babie can say ma-ma and 
 pa-pa just as plain as anything. It would be too bad, 
 wouldn't it ? I mean to have her to marry away over there 
 and to be lost to us forever. It would be something to be 
 proud of though, wouldn't it ? to have a countess, a real, 
 live countess for a sister-in-law. But, oh! I forgot; she 
 would not be my sister-in-law any longer, would she ? 
 That is too bad ! Babie says ' Peet e boo.' She also told 
 papa that if he could do so, without embarrassing the bank 
 here, to withdraw all her deposits and transfer them to the 
 Bank of Charleston. That looks suspicious, too, don't it?
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 271 
 
 Either Mr. Whiting is working his ' rabbit-foot ' on her to 
 get to handle her money, or else she has an eye on some- 
 thing else. At any rate, papa thinks that it means a wind- 
 ing up of her business here for good and all, and so does 
 Walter. But, here comes babie, and I must take him for a 
 romp. 
 
 " Your loving sister, 
 
 "AUGUSTA V. GKAVES. 
 "P.S. Babie sends a kiss." 
 
 What a spiteful thing it was in David 
 Winston to so exult over the discomfited suit 
 of his quondam friend. But he did exult, 
 fairly chuckled in savage delight, as he 
 kicked off his slipper in the execution of an 
 involuntary war dance. And yet David 
 Winston was not a heartless man. 
 
 " Oh ! she refused him. Of course she did. 
 I was a fool for ever fearing anything else, 
 and Jake was a fool for trying it. Ha-ha ! 
 poor fellow flabbergasted ! Yes, that's the 
 word. What a clever little philologist Miss 
 Pauline must be to pick out such an expres- 
 sive word. She deserves an academy medal. 
 Flabbergasted. Ha-ha ! I should say he was. 
 Poor Jake ! How art the mighty fallen ! 
 Sic transit gloria mundi. But, my dear 
 Jake, you should have known better ! " and 
 for the first time in many a weary day, 
 David Winston dropped back in his chair 
 and laughed a soft, deep, self-satisfied and
 
 272 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 self -satisfying laugh. " But, oh, hell ! Ah ! 
 I mean hello. What is this infernal non- 
 sense about a count ? Let me see, what it is 
 she says, " sobering up a little at the recollec- 
 tion. "The Countess Pacetti. Babie can 
 say Damn it all, who cares what the baby 
 says ? Let me see what Pauline says. Gus- 
 sie is so full of babies that she don't know 
 what she is talking about. Ah ! yes, here is 
 what Pauline says. ' He thinks that it is all 
 because of the count that she kicked him. 
 A Count Pacetti, who, it is said, is negotiat- 
 ing with the American Consul for her hand.' 
 Humph ! That's all nonsense. The Ameri- 
 can Consul has no more to do with her hand 
 than I have. It may be, though, that she 
 has referred the matter of marriage settle- 
 ments to the Consul for advice, and if so, 
 there is something serious in it. ' And it is 
 this that cuts him. But he does not blame 
 her, only I should be sorry for Uncle Jake 
 to meet him, for I am sure ho would spit in 
 his face, for he is desperate enough for any- 
 thing.' Good ! Godspeed the meeting. 
 How I wish I was there to see it well done. 
 There would be but little left of the count, for 
 Jake is a dead shot. But, pooh ! why should 
 I care ? It is no quarrel of mine. Heigh- 
 ho ! I wish it was ; somehow I feel that I
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 273 
 
 should like to exchange compliments with the 
 count myself. Well, well, perhaps I shall. 
 It would be more manly than to stand by 
 and see the generous, big-hearted Jake do it 
 for me. And, by Jove, I will. I shall start 
 this very night. I shall go and end the 
 matter at once. Better to be killed at a 
 blow than to live on such a life as mine," 
 and could he, on the spur of that moment, 
 have stood face to face with the Count 
 Pacetti, it would have been short shrift for 
 one or both of them. 
 
 But before the night came he had had time 
 for more sober reflection, and with the sober 
 thought came a sense of his folly, and dis- 
 mally murmuring, " It is none of my busi- 
 ness. I have "no right to interfere. I am 
 nothing to her, and if she prefers this count 
 to, honest Jake Gorman or to myself, it is 
 her own affair," and to fortify himself for 
 the day's debate he had to shut out all further 
 thought of the matter and address himself 
 to the weightier affairs of state. 
 
 And so time went on, as time is bound to 
 go. The excitement of the short but bitter 
 session was closed by the enthusiasm of the 
 presidential inauguration, and Winston re- 
 turned to his cases in the summer and fall 
 
 courts, sufficiently freed from his own in- 
 18
 
 274 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 dividual cares, to acceptably look after the 
 legal and illegal cares of his clients. 
 
 The autumn came again after a while, 
 and nestling in it, the sober month of Octo- 
 ber, bringing with it the third anni versa ry 
 of his marriage. Three years wedded, and 
 in all that time not one loving word to or 
 from the woman he had married ; not one 
 kiss from the sweetest lips that ever smiled 
 upon a husband's devotion. He was twenty- 
 five then, he was twenty-eight now, sober, 
 settled and staid. Home, desolate as it was 
 to his life, was the one spot dearer than all 
 others in the world to him. How his heart 
 would have blessed the wifely presence that 
 could have presided over that home ; and 
 how his heart did long, with a nameless 
 yearning, for such a vivifying presence ! 
 
 Through his father, to whom she wrote 
 on business, he had heard from his wife at 
 long intervals, each succeeding interval be- 
 coming longer as time seemed to be widen- 
 ing the distance between her and her interest 
 here. Of the Count Pacetti, he heard noth- 
 ing more save the little gossipy account 
 Miss Pauline Graves gave on her return 
 from their travels. It was curious how 
 eagerly he listened to that young lady's 
 spirited recital of the Florentine episode, as
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 275 
 
 she dwelt with loving enthusiasm upon the 
 marvelous beauty and sweetness of the lady, 
 and winding up always, with a sigh of pity 
 for poor Uncle Jake, and a pretty tilt of the 
 nose at the assurance of the count. 
 
 He wondered at her delay in not asking 
 for her divorce, but he felt that it was but a 
 delay, tantalizing indeed to him, but a delay 
 against which he could not in decency pro- 
 test. For himself he could not ask one, for 
 he would never need one. Hungry as his 
 heart longed for wifely love and a wife's 
 sympathy, he had no thought of ever marry- 
 ing again. The bare suggestion of such a 
 possibility would have flushed his cheek with 
 anger. Had the fair hand of the Princess 
 Alice of England been offered him in mar- 
 riage he would have rejected the offer in 
 indignant scorn. 
 
 Then why, we wonder, did he not seek a 
 reconciliation with his wife, the woman who, 
 though unseen and so far away, had, with a 
 subtle psychological alchemy, almost mag- 
 ical, transmuted the bitter ashes of his hate 
 and scorn into golden links of the sweetest 
 affection ; drawing him closer and stronger 
 and tighter day by day to her, whom he 
 now loved with a love that would not permit 
 any other ! Ah, why ! Who can account
 
 276 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 for the perversity of the human mind ? One 
 to know, would have to put one's-self in his 
 place, and then perhaps would have been no 
 nearer the solution, for it is extremely doubt- 
 ful if the poor fellow himself could have 
 told. 
 
 But while the October brought round 
 another anniversary of his wedding morn, it 
 had been kinder still to his gentle sister 
 Augusta, and brought to her and her happy 
 lord another baby. 
 
 Little David, now in kilts and Sunday 
 pants, had been turned over to Mammy 
 Kate, and a little sister was now the " tweet- 
 est, darlingest 'ittle sing " in all the world to 
 its happy mother. 
 
 And it happened that on this, the black- 
 letter day of his life, David Winston had 
 called to congratulate his sister, and to see 
 the new baby. Perhaps it was thinking of 
 the day that made him so sober, and made 
 his kiss so tender as he stooped to greet his 
 sister. 
 
 The baby was fished up from its nest in 
 the crib and, not so gingerly as the little 
 David had been two years before, it was un- 
 wrapped and placed in " Unky Davy's " 
 arms for inspection and admiration. Uncle 
 David was no connoisseur in babies, but he
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 277 
 
 had the good taste to see that this was a re- 
 markably fine child, and the still better taste 
 to declare it. 
 
 " Why, Gussie, it is really a pretty 
 baby." 
 
 ' Yes, indeed it is ; the sweetest little 
 precious, and baby wants its Uncle David to 
 unme it. Will you name the baby, 
 brother ? " 
 
 ' ' Ah, well ! I am not much on names, but 
 suppose we call it James Buchanan ? " 
 
 "Mercy me! the idea!" with a positive 
 shock. 
 
 "It's not that kind of a cat," laughed 
 Walter. 
 
 "Oh! It's a girl is it ? Ah, then I didn't 
 know. Yes, I see now, it's too pretty for 
 a boy. Well, sister, may I name her ? " 
 soberly. 
 
 " Certainly, I wish you to." 
 
 "Then, sister, I name her Abigail " 
 
 " Great Jehoshaphat," involuntarily pro- 
 tested the father. 
 
 " Yes ! Abigail," stooping and kissing the 
 little face with a reverence that sobered 
 Walter, and silenced all opposition. 
 
 " You name her for Grace ? Yes, she shall 
 be named Abigail," said the mother, "Grace 
 Abigail, and we will call her Abigail."
 
 278 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 And the next Sunday, when they went to 
 church, and Uncle David stood sponsor at 
 the font, the baby was christened Grace Abi- 
 gail, and from that moment there seemed to 
 be a silent blessing stealing in and softening 
 the heart of the godfather. 
 
 And, having named the baby, the young 
 statesman went back to Washington to 
 plunge again into the whirlpool of politics on 
 Capitol Hill. 
 
 The session that followed was a long and 
 troubled one, and June came, to find the 
 Congress still behind with the appropriation 
 bills. The debate on the Kansas-Nebraska 
 bill still held the House, and day by day 
 vituperative hate was busily sowing the seeds 
 that were soon to spring up, like dragons' 
 teeth, to ripen into disunion, war, bloodshed, 
 and ruin. 
 
 It was a day of unusual interest in the 
 House. Two of the gladiatorial giants were 
 to meet in the arena and tear each other to 
 pieces for the delectation of the galleries. 
 Every available seat in the hall and the lob- 
 bies were filled and the galleries were liter- 
 ally packed. 
 
 The debate was opened by the gentleman 
 from Borealis, who, with an eloquence worthy 
 a better cause, pictured the "brutal, domi-
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 279 
 
 neering principle of the slave-ocracy its ag- 
 gressive greed for territory, its aristocratic 
 thirst for power and dominion," and de- 
 nouncing the Constitution of the Govern- 
 ment itself, which gave life and right to 
 such a system, as "A covenant with death 
 and a league with hell " ; and appealing, in 
 an eloquent peroration, amid the drunken 
 applause of party friends, from such a cove- 
 nant to that "Higher Law" to which the 
 poorest slave, writhing under the brutal lash 
 of the beastly driver, had the heaven-born 
 right to appeal. 
 
 To this lava-burst of seething eloquence, 
 glistening like liquid silver, but reeking with 
 the sulphurous fumes of treason itself, Win- 
 ston replied. 
 
 With an outpour of eloquence equally as 
 thrilling, and perhaps equally as intemper- 
 ate, he repelled the charges of domineering 
 aggression against his section and against 
 his party ; and then, in the burning, blister- 
 ing words of a Cicero denouncing the treason 
 of a Cataline, he denounced the gentleman's 
 blasphemous arraignment of the Constitution 
 of the land, and his fanatical threat of ap- 
 pealing to the "Higher Law" for the redress 
 of " a grievance that rankles only in an imagi- 
 nation grown morbid in its impotent hate,
 
 280 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 and desperate in the frenzy of despiteful big- 
 otry." 
 
 The speech was a masterful one, and it was 
 several minutes, even after he had taken his 
 seat, before the applause of his friends on the 
 floor and the wild flutter of handkerchiefs 
 and sparkling vivas in the gallery could al- 
 low the Speaker's desperate pounding for 
 order to be heard. 
 
 "Ah! Winston," cried a senator, who 
 had come across from the other chamber to 
 hear ; " Ah ! Winston, I must congratulate 
 you. Your effort was more than grand it 
 was sublime. I must thank you for it." 
 
 "Yes," said another, "I do not think that 
 there is another man in the Capitol who 
 could have made such a speech. The shade 
 of Cicero itself must have hovered over and 
 inspired you." 
 
 "It is the speech of the session," said a 
 brother member, crowding forward and 
 grasping his hand. "Even the opposition 
 was thrilled, and the galleries, they were un- 
 controllable. I never before saw such wild 
 enthusiasm. And, by Jupiter ! Winston, 
 just look ! What a glorious woman ! There 
 in the front row in the members' gallery. 
 She is looking direct at you now. That Ma- 
 donna face ! Was ever such beauty seen
 
 DAVID AXD ABIGAIL. 281 
 
 before ? A bright, particular star ! May it 
 not be a happy conjunction ? Venus and 
 Jupiter ! The Venus of the gallery and the 
 Jupiter Tonans of the floor. Look ! " 
 
 Winston looked, more to divert the volu- 
 bility of his friend from himself than for any 
 curiosity he felt for the beauty. 
 
 But one glance sufficed to transfix his soul. 
 His heart almost cried out in the heavenly 
 surprise that overwhelmed it as he looked for 
 the first time in his life directly in the sweet 
 face of his wife. He did not recognize her 
 as his wife, as Abigail Hardie, the girl whom 
 he had married. Had he done so, the shock 
 would have unmanned him. He only saw and 
 recognized in her the queen of all women 
 the one woman in all the world who, despite 
 the claims of any other, was to be to him his 
 sweetest joy or his bitterest sorrow. 
 
 She was looking at him ; indeed, from the 
 time she had taken her seat there, sand- 
 wiched so closely between Mr. Whiting and 
 his wife, to listen to the eloquence of which 
 they had heard so much, she had not for an 
 instant taken her eyes from his face ; and 
 now, when she caught his unexpected glance, 
 and the surprised look of wondering admira- 
 tion that filled his eye, she instinctively 
 raised her hands, in the wild impulse to reach
 
 282 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 out her arms to him. But the impulse was 
 hushed back almost as soon as it was in- 
 spired, as a touch and whispered admonition 
 from her companion recalled her to herself, 
 and, in blushing confusion, she dropped 
 her hands as quickly as she had raised 
 them. 
 
 But the quick eye of the voluble gentle- 
 man noted the movement, and he rallied his 
 friend : 
 
 "Ah, Winston ! you have certainly made 
 a mash. That is, unless you already know 
 the lady. See, she opened her arms like a 
 hen spreading her wings to take home the 
 little chick. If her name be Barkus, I should 
 certainly say that she was willin'. Do you 
 know her ? " 
 
 "No, I have no idea who she may be. I 
 only know that such loveliness is too pure to 
 be lightly spoken of. I had as soon revile 
 the beauty of the Holy Virgin," he answered 
 quickly. 
 
 "Oh, you mistake me if you suspect an 
 innuendo in my remarks or in my thoughts. 
 I recognized her surprising loveliness, and I 
 can stand uncovered in its presence, but for 
 all that I love to look upon her. It is like 
 looking at a beautiful picture. I should like 
 to find out who she is or where she is from.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 283 
 
 There is no sacrilege in that, is there ? " a 
 little touchily. 
 
 " Oh, no ! nor did I intend my remark as 
 a reproof. I was only trying to voice my 
 own feelings. The impression she has made 
 upon me is so strangely different from any- 
 thing that has ever touched me before. But 
 let us go out. I am completely exhausted. 
 There is nothing more to be done to-day." 
 
 "Yes, only I have a letter or two to 
 frank. I will meet you in the corridor. By 
 the way, do you g6 to the opera to-night ? 
 It is said to be very good." 
 
 "Yes, I have an engagement with Miss 
 Stanley ; " and with another glance at the 
 gallery he adjusted his papers and left the 
 hall. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 MISS M'FLIMSY TELLS AN OPEN SECRET. 
 
 IT was a brilliant opera, and a brilliant 
 audience assembled to listen. The beauty 
 and fashion of the proud Capitol were out in 
 butterfly array, and the proudest capital in 
 Europe might well have been proud of the 
 brilliancy of this.
 
 284 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 David Winston was not a fashionable 
 man, in the social acceptation of the word. 
 Sympathetic and genial in his nature, he was 
 a favorite at his club ; but in the salon he 
 was hardly known. Society had seen but 
 little of him, and it was but recently that it 
 had seen even that little. 
 
 To Miss Stanley, the senator's pretty and 
 dashing daughter, was accredited the honor 
 of bringing out this untamed lion of the 
 House, and to her busy rumor had accred- 
 ited the still happier distinction of putting 
 other than social leading strings upon him. 
 
 Their appearance together this evening, 
 she so radiant in smiles and beauty, and he 
 so fresh from the scene of his acknowledged 
 triumph, gave piquancy to the gossip as well 
 as interest to the couple, and of course they 
 were the observed of all observers. 
 
 Quite by chance (Query : Is there such a 
 thing as chance ?), and with not the remotest 
 idea of seeing "the lady and the lion," 
 Whiting and his party, now reduced by the 
 marriage of Miss Whiting to the Count 
 Pacetti, to three, had taken seats at the opera, 
 and were expecting a rare musical treat, 
 when the entrance of the distinguished 
 couple created a sensible flutter in the 
 audience.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 285 
 
 "That is the Honorable Mr. "Winston, the 
 wonderful young orator," said a lady, who 
 was evidently on familiar terms with all the 
 social celebrities of the Capitol, explaining 
 to her escort, a rural cousin from the Blue- 
 grass regions, who had ventured up to 
 the city to see the lions. " And that lady 
 with him is Miss Stanley ; the rich daughter 
 of Senator Stanley. They are sweethearts, 
 and are to be married, you know, as soon as 
 Congress adjourns. They would have been 
 married before now only he has just got his 
 divorce- - 
 
 " His divorce ? Does a man have to have 
 a divorce to get married here ? " innocently 
 asked the rustic cousin. 
 
 "Yes ! married ones do. You see he was 
 already married and had some trouble with 
 his wife, a poor giddy creature, whom it is 
 said he married for her money, and who paid 
 him off by running away with a scamp from 
 Charleston two days after the wedding, and 
 he has not seen her since. Cousin Matilda 
 happened to hear all about it when she was 
 down South and she told me. However, it 
 is quite well understood here, and every 
 body has been very sorry for the poor fellow, 
 and all feel very glad now of his good 
 fortune in winning Miss Stanley. She is
 
 286 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 immensely rich too, and oh ! my ! isn't she 
 pretty ! And what a distingue couple they 
 make. He is so handsome too. Everybody 
 in the house is looking at them and admir- 
 ing. She ought to be very proud, and I 
 am sure she is. I almost wish it was 
 me." 
 
 " Well ! I don't so very well know. I be- 
 lieve I had rather it was not me. I don't think 
 that if I was a girl I should care to pick 
 up a second-hand fellow like him. A sure- 
 enough widower, is bad enough, but when 
 it comes to a grass widower I should beg 
 to be excused ; but they are a good-looking 
 team, sure enough. She's as pretty as a 
 picture, and I had much rather have her 
 than to have him." 
 
 " What is it, Grace ? Are you ill ? " asked 
 Mrs. Whiting in alarm, as she noticed the 
 sudden gasp for breath and the paleness 
 that overspread the face of her companion. 
 
 " Oh ! It is the odor of these jessamines. 
 I must throw them away. There, I feel 
 better already," as she dropped the innocent 
 flowers and instinctively drew herself 
 further away from the unconscious (and 
 unconscionable) gossip, who had been split- 
 ting her ears with her sharp tongue. She 
 had heard every word of the cruel scandal,
 
 It AVID AND ABIGAIL. 287 
 
 and had to sit dumb, without the poor priv- 
 ilege of screaming while the iron was 
 entering her soul. She had not followed the 
 direction of the curious eyes, and had not 
 noticed the entrance of the couple, and now 
 she was afraid to trust herself to look, but 
 had to sit with eyes drooped in her lap, as 
 if all that glitter and glare of beauty was 
 too dazzling for her sight. 
 
 The opera had no charm, no interest, for 
 her. She did not even hear it, and it was 
 only when the curtain had fallen on the 
 first act that she realized from the succeed- 
 ing hush that it had ever commenced. 
 
 " There, " spoke up her gossipy neighbor 
 again, as the hush in the music gave voice 
 to her tongue, " there that is the Honorable 
 Mr. Fenton, of Boomtown, who is talking to 
 Winston now. And look ; they are looking 
 this way now. I wonder if it is me they are 
 looking at. ! mercy ! Miss Stanley is 
 adjusting her glass ! and now she is level- 
 ing it directly at me. Is it some one behind 
 us or is it me ! Can you see who is behind 
 us ? And now the gentlemen are both 
 looking ! See how they stare ! I do wonder 
 if it is me, anyhow I intend to shoot 
 back," and adjusting her glasses, the lady 
 defiantly returned the fire from the battery
 
 288 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 of glasses leveled from the opposite circle, 
 while poor Grace sat still as death and 
 almost as cold. 
 
 1 'Yes, it's me. I caught Miss Stanley's 
 very eye and made her drop it. I wonder 
 what it is they are saying about me ? I 
 shall bone Mr. Fenton about it to-morrow. 
 I've a great mind to shake my finger at him 
 now." 
 
 " I'll bet a thrip against a ginger-cake that 
 it's something complimentary. See how 
 the young lady arches her brows and turns 
 up her nose, as much as to say 'what 
 shocking taste,' " said the rural escort, with 
 more justice, perhaps than he thought. 
 
 For this is what the gentlemen were 
 saying : 
 
 (FENTON : as he crossed over and joined 
 his friends) Ah ! Winston ! yonder is the 
 star of the Gallery again. 
 
 WINSTON (with alert interest) : Where? 
 
 FENTON : To the left, fourth seat on 
 seventh row, next to Miss McFlims3 T . 
 
 WINSTON : Ah ! lovely enough for any 
 star ; but this is hardly the same. She was 
 a Madonna ! this is Venus herself. 
 
 FENTON : So I thought, until I caught 
 her vis-a-vis, and then I found it the 
 same. Now ! she slightly turns this way I
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 289 
 
 did you ever see such a remarkable and per- 
 plexing beauty ? 
 
 WINSTON : Wonderful ! wonderful ! Miss 
 Stanley, do you wish to see a living, breath- 
 ing, impersonation of Venus ? 
 
 Miss Stanley adjusts her glass and levels 
 it across the parquette. Her aim strikes 
 Miss McFlimsy squarely between the eyes. 
 
 FENTON : Is she not divine ? 
 
 Miss STANLEY : Perhaps so ! my glasses 
 are not always reliable. 
 
 FENTON : There ! she is looking towards 
 you. You can catch a front view of her, 
 and now you have Venus no longer, but the 
 pathetic loveliness of Murillo's Madonna. 
 
 Then it was that Miss Stanley's eyebrows 
 arched and her pretty nose curled, as a dis- 
 criminating nose surely had the right to curl 
 in piquant disgust at such a preposterous 
 optical illusion. 
 
 WINSTON (starting up from a strangely 
 puzzling wonder, which had carried him 
 away across the sea) : Fenton, can you 
 possibly find out for me who she is ? 
 
 FENTON : Yes, I think so. I saw Milnes 
 talking with the gentleman with her, to-day, 
 and they appeared to be old friends. They 
 are from Charleston I overheard enough 
 for that. They are stopping at the National.
 
 290 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 WINSTON : At the National ! Are you 
 sure ? 
 
 FENTON : Yes ! quite sure. Milnes called 
 there to see them. 
 
 WINSTON : Then I am in luck. 
 
 Miss Stanley's nose had to take another 
 little tilt, but it was such a saucy and withal 
 such a pretty tilt that Fenton smiled to see it. 
 
 FENTON : " I do not know so much about 
 that. The lady is his wife." 
 
 WINSTON, (starting aghast at the idea) : 
 His wife ? Oh, no ! 
 
 FENTON : Yes, but she is. I heard him 
 tell Milnes that his wife was with him, and I 
 observed them sitting together to-day in the 
 gallery, and I saw him grasp her arm and 
 jerk it down, when she spread them out to 
 hover you. I am sure they are married or 
 he would be more gallant in his attentions, 
 to her. He didn't fan her one time to-day, 
 warm as it was ; and to-night, see he is 
 twice as attentive to the lady with her. 
 Yes, you may rest assured that she is his 
 wife. But, say ! is it quite understood that 
 we are to go to Mount Vernon to-morrow 
 eh, Miss Stanley ? " 
 
 Miss STANLEY : Yes ; that is the pro- 
 gramme. 
 
 WINSTON : Certainly ; there will be
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 291 
 
 nothing in the House to-morrow. Bangem 
 and Woolem will consume the day in batter- 
 ing the Queen's English over each other's 
 heads. And, besides, I am anxious to show 
 Miss Stanley Lady Washington's roses. 
 
 Miss STANLEY : Is it lawful to pluck 
 one ? Else you should not lead me into 
 temptation. 
 
 FENTON : Give Winston a leaf and he 
 will defend the trespass. 
 
 WINSTON : I shall be happy to share the 
 consequences, in any event. 
 
 And, with this gallant speech to placate 
 the uptilted nose, a satisfied smile, stretching 
 the pretty mouth, drew it down again. 
 
 To-morrow would be the twenty-fourth, 
 St. John's day, and was to be celebrated by 
 the Masonic fraternity by a steamboat excur- 
 sion down the river and picnic at Mount 
 Vernon, the home of that eminent patron of 
 the craft. Both these gentlemen were en- 
 thusiastic members of the fraternity, and 
 both were anxious for a little whiff of fresh 
 country air. 
 
 FENTON : Then we all go. I will see to 
 the tickets. The boat leaves at ten, sharp. 
 I will call for you, Miss Stanley. Au re- 
 voir^ hurrying back to his seat as the bell 
 rang.
 
 292 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling went the bell ; the 
 orchestra blared, up rose the curtain, and 
 Fra Diavolo commenced his mischievous 
 work again, cutting throats and turning 
 pretty heads. 
 
 But neither the devilish exploits of Fra 
 Diavolo, nor the charming music, nor even 
 the pretty, plump, round arms of the prima 
 donna (so fascinating to the robbers hid in 
 the closet), as she disrobed for her couch, 
 could further interest Winston. He had no 
 further thought for clever acting, no ear for 
 music nor eye for surreptitious charms, but 
 sat ungallantly stolid and neglectful even of 
 the beauty so close to his side, casting stolen 
 glances of reverential admiration across the 
 parquette at that lovely face, which had so 
 mysteriously hypnotized his every thought. 
 
 Miss Stanley noticed the undutiful aberra- 
 tion, but reassuring herself, by another in- 
 spection through her glass, of the harmless 
 face of Miss McFlimsy, she only laughed at 
 it as a wayward fancy, for which he would 
 be only too glad to atone to-morrow. 
 
 After a while it seemed an interminable 
 age to Grace the curtain fell, and, through 
 the rush and jam of the exit, they made 
 their way out into the glad, free night again. 
 
 "Let us walk," she said, as Whiting
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 293 
 
 paused for a carriage. " I think the walk in 
 the air will do me good. " 
 
 "Yes ; we will walk. 'Tis but a little way 
 up the avenue." 
 
 "Ah, Whiting, I have been looking for 
 you all the evening," said the Hon. Porcher 
 Milnes, as he met the returning party in the 
 hotel corridor. 
 
 "Have you? Well, I am glad to meet 
 you. And here, I must introduce you to my 
 wife. Mr. Milnes, Mrs. Whiting," present- 
 ing, in a kind of husbandly complacency, his 
 rosy-cheeked wife. 
 
 "lam happy to meet Mrs. Whiting," 
 accepting with a courtly grace the lady's 
 friendly hand. 
 
 "And this is our very dear friend, Mrs. 
 Winston," continued Whiting, presenting the 
 young lady. 
 
 "Ah, this is an additional pleasure," bow- 
 ing and then addressing Mrs. Whiting, as 
 they entered the parlor. "You have been 
 to the opera ? I hope you had a pleasant 
 evening ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, it was really fine the opera I 
 mean. The music was charming and the 
 audience very brilliant. I spent a most enjoy- 
 able evening," answered the lady.
 
 294 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "And you. Mrs. Winston, I hope that the 
 taste you have had of foreign music will 
 not destroy your relish for our more demo- 
 cratic opera," turning to the younger lady 
 and trying to be polite without any definite 
 idea of what he was meaning to say. 
 
 "Oh, no, sir; my democratic tastes are too 
 deeply ingrained for a foreign flavor to 
 affect. But, sir, there was nothing American 
 about the opera this evening. Indeed, sir, 
 before we hedge ourselves too exclusively in 
 our democratic tastes, we should remember 
 that we have nothing to feed them on. I 
 do not think, sir, that we have such a thing 
 as an American opera." 
 
 "Oh, is that so? Well, well! I hadn't 
 thought of that. But we've got the min- 
 strels and that, to my taste, is much better. 
 .The Chrysties are inimitable. Eh, what say 
 you ? " 
 
 " I am hardly so democratic. But some 
 of their songs are really charming," she 
 answered. 
 
 " That they are. But what was the play 
 to-night?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, sir, I really do not remember, but 
 but I I believe it was Faust," trying in 
 vain to recall the opera. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of Guttenberg, the old printer,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 295 
 
 a very remarkable man. Well, I am glad 
 that you liked it, and that you enjoyed the 
 evening. We wish all our friends to enjoy 
 their visits to the city. We want them to 
 think well of the capitol. And, Mrs. Whit- 
 ing, I trust that you will pardon me for 
 the presumption, but I have ventured to ar- 
 range a little entertainment for to-morrow, 
 which I am sure you will enjoy, eh, Whit- 
 ing?" 
 
 "To-morrow? We expect to leave for 
 Eichmond to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, I know you had, but an accident to 
 the railroad, a bridge out of line, or some- 
 thing of the sort, will prevent a train to- 
 morrow and knocks your programme into a 
 cocked hat. I learned it at the ticket-office 
 this evening, and so felt at liberty to take 
 you in hand. And to malje the delay as 
 pleasant to your ladies as possible, I have 
 secured tickets to an excursion to-morrow to 
 Mt. Vernon. We will be sure of a pleasant 
 time ; the boat is large and commodious, the 
 music will be fine, the scenery charming and 
 there will not be an overcrowd. It is a 
 Masonic affair, and the company will be 
 select. Mrs. Milnes is going, anl she begs 
 me particularly to secure you if possible. 
 She called herself to make your acquaint-
 
 296 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 ance and to ask you to join us, but you 
 were out. Now, will you go ? " 
 
 "If Grace Mrs. Winston will go I 
 should be charmed with the honor." 
 
 "Then, Miss Winston, I appeal to you." 
 
 "You are very kind, sir, and I accept your 
 kindness. I have long wished to visit 
 Mount Vernon." 
 
 "lam sure you will enjoy it; for, aside 
 from the enjoyment of the excursion, the 
 pleasurable associations of the place will 
 make it a day long to be remembered. 
 But it is not too late," consulting his 
 watch, "it is only eleven-thirty, for a 
 petite souper; one needs something after 
 the fatigue of the theater. May I order 
 one ? " 
 
 "Not for me, please," said Grace, who 
 longed for nothing in the world so much as 
 she longed for the rest and solitude of her 
 own room. 
 
 " Nor for me, thanks. You must know, 
 Mr. Milnes, that we are almost rustic in our 
 habits, and it will not do for us to plunge 
 too deeply at once into fashionable dissipa- 
 tion. A good sleep, now, will be the best 
 refreshment we could take, " smilingly supple- 
 mented Mrs. Whiting. 
 
 "Ah, yes, there will be, less headache
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 about it in the morning. And as we have 
 to be up early to catch the boat, I will, with 
 } 7 our kind permission, wish you pleasant 
 dreams and a very good-night." 
 
 " Good-night, sir, we shall be ready," and 
 with friendly nods the ladies withdrew. 
 
 "Winston Winston," murmured the 
 gentleman to himself, as he went out on his 
 way home. "I wonder who she is ! A 
 splendid woman, certainly, regal in her 
 beauty as well as manner. I do not think I 
 ever saw a lovelier." 
 
 The struggle that night in. the mind of 
 David Winston was the bitterest of his 
 life. A struggle between loyalty to the 
 wife he had discarded and the subtle, 
 mysterious and undefinable infatuation 
 that possessed his soul for this strange wo- 
 man who had so suddenly come between 
 them. 
 
 Through all these weary days of hopeless, 
 purposeless waiting he had been true to the 
 absent one, in thought and in deed, not even 
 in vagrant fancy had his thoughts ever 
 turned from her for one idle moment, but 
 in its most chaste and immaculate sense had 
 his heart remained steadfastly faithful and 
 true. Notwithstanding the idle gossip to 
 which he was < disdainfully indifferent, the
 
 298 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 idea of marrying any other woman had 
 never entered his mind. He could have 
 released her from all allegiance and from all 
 duty to himself he could claim nothing from 
 her but in his own soul he recognized no 
 other mistress but her. Had he even 
 thought it best for her happiness that she 
 should marry some one else, he could have 
 ground his heart to powder, dry as summer 
 dust, and given his consent, but as for him- 
 self, until death itself came between them, 
 there could be no dissolution of the ties that 
 bound him to her. But now, like a meteor- 
 flash a thwart the inky darkness of a mid- 
 night sky, this other came, this beautiful 
 one, this goddess stepping from the clouds 
 and compelling his adoration. The sense of 
 his unfaith to his wife was revolting to every 
 sense of his manhood, and he cursed himself 
 for his baseness. He tried to reason with 
 himself, in his desperate effort to arrest his 
 perfidy, but the power of ratiocination was 
 gone. In an agony of despairing shame he 
 would clutch his breast, as if to pluck from 
 his heart the beautiful image that had so 
 incontinently possessed it, but he could only 
 torture the quivering flesh, that beautiful 
 image had, with a kodak flash, been photo- 
 graphed in indelible lines in its most secret
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 299 
 
 and sacred depths. He would for a moment 
 think sadly of her, the sweet wife, who had 
 really made him what he was, only to turn, 
 the next, with something nearly akin to 
 hate in his heart against her, to clasp and 
 hug to his soul the beautiful vision that had 
 so dazzled his senses. 
 
 For more than an hour he sat in the soli- 
 tude of his room, pondered the matter over 
 and over again, commencing by cursing 
 himself for a villain and ended by blessing 
 the loveliness that was leading him astray. 
 At last to put an end to the distracting 
 struggle, he started up. 
 
 "Ah," he cried, "this must end it ; I am 
 too vile even to think of her ever again. 
 My love, could I recall it again, would be 
 an insult to her purity, and I shall end it 
 now and forever," and then turning to his 
 desk he wrote : 
 
 " Miss HAKDIE : There is a point in the descent to per- 
 dition at which decency halts. I have passed that point, 
 and am now beyond the pale of womanly sympathy. The 
 name I imposed upon you is no longer worthy your purity, 
 and I write to notify you that I shall take immediate steps 
 to absolve you from it. If you can trust me so far, I shall 
 see that your interest, in all particulars, are protected, and 
 that with the decree that divorces your life from such a 
 wretch, you will be reinvested with all your maiden rights, 
 including the name your worthy father made so honorable.
 
 300 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 Should it embarrass you to write, you need not do so, as I 
 shall accept your silence as an evidence of your consents 
 and will proceed accordingly. 
 
 44 With the sincerest respect I am 
 
 " Your unworthy friend, 
 
 '' DAVID ROE WINSTON." 
 
 Having finished he hurried down to the 
 hotel office and mailed it, and returning to 
 his room, he went to bed only to commence 
 the struggle again, keeping it up until ex- 
 hausted nature could stand no more, and 
 he dropped to sleep. And then came, 
 
 " Swift-footed visions, without order or number," 
 
 through which floated in a halo of glory 
 the angelic figure, form and face of the 
 temptress, wooing his sleeping senses with 
 the pathetic sweetness of the Madonna, and 
 enchanting his soul with the piquant beauty 
 of Venus. 
 
 Was it sinful, such an ecstatic dream ? 
 Surely it could not be ; and yet he had to 
 despise himself the next morning for recall- 
 ing with such ecstatic delight, the memory 
 of the kisses he had so rapturously im- 
 printed upon the sweet, sweet mouth, as he 
 held the beatified vision in his dreaming 
 arms. 
 
 And poor Grace, she had a struggle too,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 301 
 
 not .so remorseful, but none the less painful. 
 There were no self-reproaches, mingled with 
 her silent sobs. It was only over her 
 wounded, bleeding, dying love she was so 
 piteously moaning, only for the crumbling 
 of her lordly idol she was grieving. She 
 had clung to that love, hopeless as it was, 
 as long as she could ; she had worshiped that 
 idol, with a woman's constant adoration, 
 but now they must both be put away, that 
 sweet love and that god-like image. He 
 was no longer hers ; he was soon to be the 
 lord of another, and it would be a sin to love 
 him. Had he remained single all his life 
 she would have continued to love him, 
 though the Arctic seas might have rolled 
 between them, but now he was to marry 
 another and she must give up the love that 
 had been all along such a silent joy to her life. 
 
 But, as we have seen before, Abigail Har- 
 die was a brave woman, and, with a prayer 
 for strength, she arose to put the weakness 
 away ; and like he, the faithless spouse, had 
 done, she turned to her desk, late as it was, 
 and wrote a long letter, too long to give 
 here, but of which she told her friend, the 
 next morning. And this is what she told : 
 
 "I thought much last night, Alice, of 
 what would be best for me to do, and I have
 
 302 DA VID A ND ABIGA I L. 
 
 quite decided. Hush, let me tell you. "Vyhat 
 I heard last night has convinced me of the 
 folly of longer struggling with a prepos- 
 terous hope. He is to marry the beautiful 
 lady we saw him with. He is already 
 divorced, and it is sinful in me to ever think 
 of him as my own again. I must give my 
 duty to some one else, and perhaps with 
 that I may be able to give my love. I gave 
 him up last night. How much it cost me no 
 one can ever know ; but to make the sacrifice 
 complete, to put an end, at once and for- 
 ever, to my wavering doubts, and fears 
 and hopes, I have written to Lord Kniglit- 
 leigh, explaining everything, and telling 
 him that if he thinks me worth the voyage 
 across the Atlantic, to come and I will 
 marry him. This I will do to save me from 
 myself. I will make him a true and faith- 
 ful wife, and in doing that I will, perforce, 
 learn to forget that I was ever, even in 
 thought, the wife of another." 
 
 "Ah, darling, you have decided well, 
 wisely and well. Sir Robert is in every re- 
 spect an admirable gentleman, and I am 
 sure that he loves the very ground you walk 
 upon. But come, hurry up and dress ; we 
 have barely time for breakfast, before it will 
 be time to go."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 303 
 
 ' ' Yes, you run on, and I will soon be 
 ready." 
 
 But when left alone to herself, and she 
 turned to seal and stamp the letter for the 
 post, before going, there came over her soul 
 such a rush of feeling, pity, sorrow, doubt, 
 shame and remorse, that she threw the 
 treacherous missive aside in horror, and 
 sinking on her knees and burying her face 
 in her hands she sobbed : 
 
 "No, no, I cannot, oh, I cannot ! It was 
 mine to love him first. In the sight of God 
 I am his wife still, and I shall love him on 
 until death do us part. Oh ! how wicked, 
 almost vile it was in me to waver for a 
 moment in my duty ! Oh, God forgive me ! 
 My love, my love! No divorce, no decree 
 of man, can absolve me from the vows I 
 took in the presence of the most high God. 
 No, no, whatever may betide I shall remain 
 true to my love, and true to myself because 
 true to my love."
 
 304 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 DOWN THE RIVER. 
 
 THE weather that morning was propi- 
 tious. Had St. John himself had the tem- 
 pering of the air, or the softening of the 
 sunlight, he could not have made it more 
 balmy, soft and charming than it was. It 
 was a revivifying inhalation of health, of 
 strength, and of gladness to breathe it. Even 
 the pain that had cut so deep in her heart, 
 and which had kept her awake the livelong 
 night, felt its soothing effects, and in the 
 universal gladness poor Grace found surcease 
 of misery, and as the steamer glided out 
 into the broad river, with its banners wav- 
 ing, its music floating, and its hundred trills 
 of human merriment filling the air, the 
 wounded look that had so puzzled and dis- 
 tressed Whiting all the morning, went out 
 from her eye and something of the old-time 
 brightness came back again. 
 
 The pleasant run down the river had 
 nearly been made, and another turn in the
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 305 
 
 winding stream would bring them in sight 
 of the Mecca of all the " truly loyal," when 
 Fenton, in a little flutter of importance 
 accosted his friend : 
 
 " Ah ! Winston, our gallery star is still 
 ascendant, and shines upon us again to-day. 
 Ah, what a lucky star ! " 
 
 ' ' How ? Where ? " quickly asked Winston. 
 
 "I mean the double beauty, double and 
 ubiquitous, the Siamese twins, if I may be so 
 profane, of womanly beatitude ; the Madonna 
 and Venus, both in one. There she is, across 
 to the right, leaning against the stanchion. 
 Milnes is talking to her, and now I can see 
 him and find out who she is. But, there ! 
 don't you see that Gorgon of a husband 
 standing jealous guard over her ? Miss 
 Stanley, don't you think her beautiful ? " 
 
 Miss Stanley looked, a little indifferently, 
 as well as ungraciously. She cared nothing 
 for the wonderful beauty, but she did not 
 quite relish the gentleman's irreverent inter- 
 ruption. 
 
 " Oh ! But this is not the same lady we 
 saw last evening," she cried as a glance 
 revealed a loveliness she instinctively had 
 to acknowledge. 
 
 "Yes, it is the self -same ; only the more 
 
 lovely each succeeding time one sees her. 
 20
 
 306 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 She looks even better by sunlight than she 
 did by gas, and it takes a miraculous beauty 
 to do that. Isn't she beautiful, even though 
 she had the poor taste to throw herself away 
 upon such an old stick-in-the-mud as that ( '' 
 
 " Yes ; she is beautiful. She is more than 
 that, she is transcendentally lovely. I should 
 like to know her. But I must beg your par- 
 don, I was looking at altogether a different 
 person last night. I must apologize for the 
 mistake, and the violence I did your good 
 taste," she said brightly, turning to Winston. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I was quite sure that you 
 did not see aright. One could not well look 
 in that face without acknowledging its 
 loveliness. It strangely touched me when I 
 first saw it, and the puzzle has not yet quite 
 left me. I am glad, though, that she is 
 married," he added reflectively, more to him- 
 self than to his companion. 
 
 " Yes, such loveliness should have a home 
 to adorn," she answered demurely. 
 
 " Only she should not have wasted it on 
 such a clown as that.- I almost hate him," 
 savagely put in Fenton. " I am sure that 
 he thinks more of his cotton bags than he 
 does of her. And see ! he has been flirting 
 with that other one all the way. I caught 
 him squeezing her hand just now."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 307 
 
 "But may be she is his wife, and not the 
 other, this Siamese twins of yours. " 
 
 "And they still in the honeymoon? Not 
 likely. Her bonnet is too badly battered 
 for that. And besides, who ever caught a 
 husband squeezing his wife's hand on the 
 sly?" 
 
 " But, Mr. Fenton, I should like to know 
 her. Can you manage to get Mr. Milnes to 
 introduce us ? " insisted Miss Stanley, curious 
 to unearth the mystery. 
 
 "Oh, yes, certainly. I will see him, "and 
 off he hurried. 
 
 "Milnes," he said a moment after, touch- 
 ing that gentleman on the shoulder, as a 
 remark from Mrs. Milnes called the young 
 lady's attention away, "Milnes, we are all 
 envying you your good luck, and are on our 
 heads to know who she is. Even the exclusive 
 Miss Stanley is dying to know her, and to take 
 her under her patronizing wing. Now, don't 
 be selfish, and give us all a chance." 
 
 " Certainly, if the young lady will permit ; 
 only Miss Stanley will have to spread her 
 wings to their utmost stretch to cover the 
 loveliness that can rival her own. I will ask 
 her." 
 
 "Do, if you please. But first let me ask 
 you, is she married ? "
 
 308 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "No, but she had better be. She is 
 engaged. Yes ; I had it just now from my 
 wife, who got it from Mrs. Whiting, that 
 she is to be married to an English nobleman ; 
 a Sir Robert, or Roger" Somebody, just as 
 soon as he comes over, and he is on his way 
 now. I tell you this to put you on your 
 guard." 
 
 "Thanks! But one could afford to get 
 scorched by such a glorious flame." 
 
 "Then, come on. Miss Winston," he 
 could not get it out of his head that one so 
 bright and fresh and rosy as she, could be 
 anything else than miss, " Miss Winston, 
 a very sweet lady friend of mine asks the 
 pleasure of knowing you. May I introduce 
 her ? " 
 
 "Oh! yes. I shall be glad to know any 
 of your friends." 
 
 ' ' Thanks ! then to begin I will introduce 
 my very dear friend and political chum, the 
 Honorable Dawson B. Fenton ; Miss Win- 
 ston." 
 
 . The gentleman bowed, while the lady with 
 a charming grace returned the courtesy. 
 
 " And I may bring my friend ? " he asked. 
 
 "If you will be so kind, sir," and he 
 marveled at the sweetness of her voice. 
 
 " Ah ! she is gracious as she is lovely, and
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 3Q9 
 
 her voice is sweet, even as her face," he re- 
 ported as he returned to his set. 
 
 '"But is she married?" asked Winston, 
 and his heart had to stop an instant to listen 
 for the answer. 
 
 " No, not married, but worse, she is en- 
 gaged. Milnes told me, sub-rosa, by way of 
 warning. She is to marry an English lord. 
 He is on the way now. Good Lord ! how I 
 do wish the ship would sink, in the middle of 
 the Atlantic ! They are waiting here for him. 
 They will be married at the British Lega- 
 tion, and of course it will be a swell wedding. 
 But come on, I see an opening, and they are 
 expecting us, " and with this he hustled them 
 through the crowd to the central group. 
 
 Grace had turned again to Mrs. Milnes, 
 and together they were watching some 
 object on the bank. She did not hear the 
 salutations of the friend, and only turned in 
 response to the call of Mr. Milnes, to confront 
 the expectant strangers. 
 
 " Miss Winston, it is with very great 
 pleasure that I present Miss Stanley." 
 
 Both ladies involuntarily gasped. There 
 was an electric recoil in the sound of each 
 name. 
 
 11 Miss Winston," repeated the one, flush- 
 ing red.
 
 310 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 ."Miss Stanley," echoed the other, turning 
 a little pale. But with a rare presence, and 
 unfailing dignity of thought and gentleness 
 of manner, she quickly added : "I am glad 
 to meet you, and must thank you for the 
 wish to know me." 
 
 "And this, Miss Winston, is my political 
 fidus Achates and the Ajax Telemons of the 
 Democracy, the Honorable David R. Win- 
 ston. Being of the same name you two 
 should know each other." 
 
 The feelings of the two,- husband and wife 
 thus introduced to each other by a stranger 
 and in the presence of strangers, can hardly 
 be described. For a moment they stood, 
 wildly staring as if suddenly awakened from 
 a dream, and then, when thought did come 
 again, it required a Spartan courage in each 
 to keep back the truth. But the lady, quick- 
 est to recover, bowed in gentle dignity and 
 with a smile, sweet for all it cost her, she said : 
 
 "The name of Mr. Winston is not alto- 
 gether unknown to me. His fame has found 
 its way across the sea, and I have heard it 
 there. I esteem it an honor, sir, to know 
 you," and again she bowed in modest 
 courtesy. 
 
 "You are only too too good," was all he 
 could find voice to stammer.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 311 
 
 " I listened to your speech yesterday," she 
 continued, as if wishing to relieve the pained 
 embarrassment that was only too plainly 
 written on his face. "I wished then to 
 thank you for your eloquent words spoken 
 in defense of our people. They were brave 
 words, sir, and I do thank you." 
 
 11 1 appreciate your thanks, but I hardly 
 deserve them. Still I shall always be glad 
 that you heard me. It was the proudest 
 effort of my life, and that you approve makes 
 the achievement still the more pleasing," he 
 answered, recovering something of his self- 
 possession. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Winston, and I must tell you, 
 too, how glad I was that you skinned that 
 wretched old bigot. I could see from my 
 place in the gallery that even his rhinoceros 
 hide squirmed and quivered at every stroke 
 of the lash. It was well laid on and the 
 beast deserved it," chipped in Mrs. Milnes, 
 extending her hand in friendly congratula- 
 tions. 
 
 This diversion served, at least, as a foil to 
 the perplexed embarrassment of the party. 
 The admirable presence of Grace, her words 
 so sweetly spoken and seemingly artless 
 of all design completely misled them all, 
 and none save the two themselves, with
 
 312 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 Whiting and his wife, had a further sus- 
 picion of their ever having seen each other 
 before. 
 
 The solemn tolling of the bell was the 
 signal that the steamer was passing the 
 tomb of Washington, and in a minute more 
 it rounded in below, and ran up to the strag- 
 gling and staggering pier, where, in the rush 
 and confusion of landing, the parties sepa- 
 rated, each drifting off again into its own 
 little orbit around its central sun. 
 
 In inspecting the house, with its historic 
 odds and ends, finding an astounding dearth 
 of interesting curiosities to wonder at, and 
 in exploring the grounds and gardens, the 
 day was pleasantly enough spent. 
 
 Lady Washington's roses, now in full 
 bloom, were duly admired, but though her 
 iconoclastic fingers were quite ready for 
 the sacrilege, Miss Stanley received no hint 
 that one little bud stolen by them would be 
 worn by him as a precious souvenir next to 
 his heart, and no trespass was committed. 
 Poor lady ! she had but little encouragement 
 for any propitiatory offering ; for despite all 
 her little winning, witching arts she utterly 
 failed to arouse her companion from the 
 morose stupor into which he had so strangely 
 fallen. He was not himself at all, and she
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 813 
 
 was piqued as well as saddened to know the 
 cause of his gloom. 
 
 " Surely," she murmured to herself, " it 
 cannot be this woman who is so soon to be the 
 wife of another. He is a man of too much 
 character to let the passing beauty of a 
 strange woman, an adventuress, I have no 
 doubt, so upset him. Oh ! I have it now. 
 It is the coincidence of the names thai^has 
 recalled wretched memories of his unhappy 
 marriage. That is very sad to have such a 
 shadow to always darken his life. Poor, 
 dear fellow, I do pity him," and in her pity, 
 always charming, tender and sweet in 
 woman, but doubly so in a pretty woman, 
 she redoubled her efforts to chase away the 
 shadows. 
 
 A basket lunch under the trees, each group 
 spreading its own, rounded up the entertain- 
 ment on the grounds, and then a prolonged 
 whistle from the boat sent them all crowding 
 aboard, and then with another burst of music 
 from the band, the boat backed out, and 
 rounding up the stream, the home voyage 
 began. 
 
 The voyage began as pleasantly as did the 
 morning's. The spacious deck below had 
 been cleared for dancing, and with the airy 
 strains of music to thrill, happy hearts kept
 
 314 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 time to the tread of nimble feet. Every- 
 thing was charming and everything was 
 gladness ; 
 
 " Soft eyes spake love to eyes that spake again, 
 And all went merry as a marriage, bell," 
 
 when suddenly there came from below a 
 sharp, wild cry of terror, followed in a second 
 by .a startled chorus of "Fire ! fire ! fire ! 
 The Lord save us, the boat's on fire ! " 
 
 In an instant all was fright and confusion. 
 The music hushed. The isolated couples 
 looked at each other in a vague terror, and 
 then clasping arms, hurried to join the scurry- 
 ing mob. The little whist parties dropped 
 the cards, to spring up and run below. The 
 dancers paused a moment to grasp the 
 danger, and then discarding partners, sauve 
 qui peut, commenced a cowardly scramble 
 for life. 
 
 The boat's officers had discovered the fire 
 first, and vainly strove to suppress it, until 
 seeing no possible chance to save the boat 
 ttie captain ordered the pilot to head for the 
 shore, and then the startling cry went up. 
 
 It was the work of a moment to lower 
 the boats. Five staunch life-boats ; suffi- 
 cient, if order could be maintained, to 
 serve for all. Almost as quickly as they
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 315 
 
 touched the water the boats were filled, 
 men, women, and children clambering over 
 each other and crowding in. Four, crowded 
 to their utmost capacity, were filled and 
 had just put off, when the steamer 
 grounded in the mud, two hundred yards 
 from the shore. The one remaining boat 
 was already half filled and would hardly 
 suffice for the frantic crowd that remained 
 on the burning deck, beating each other 
 back in the mad rush for safety. 
 
 Winston's first thought was for his wife. 
 With eyes hungry in passionate anxiety, he 
 had watched each boat as it filled and put 
 off, praying, as he had never prayed before, 
 that she might be saved ; but he had nowhere 
 seen her. Mr. Milnes he had seen, with his 
 wife, taking their places in the first that put 
 off. Whiting he recognized, too, as, with 
 his own wife lifted bodily in his arms, he 
 beat his way forward, trampling down, as 
 he went, a little child in his desperate rush 
 for a place ; but nowhere was she, the one 
 woman who must be saved, to be seen. 
 
 But, true to his trust, the first duty was to 
 the helpless girl who clung so desperately to 
 his arm, and, fiercely beating his way, he 
 carried her to the boat, the last to put off. 
 Fenton was already in.
 
 BJL6 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " Here, Fenton, take care of Miss Stanley," 
 shaking the clinging clutch from his arm 
 and lifting her forward. 
 
 "Yes ! oh, yes ! " catching the outreach- 
 ing arms and lifting her into the boat. ' i And 
 you jump in ; there must be room for you, 
 even if we have to put some one else over- 
 board." 
 
 "No; I must leave her with you. I go 
 back for my wife. " 
 
 " No, no ! Do come, for heaven's sake ! 
 It will be death for you to stay ! " cried the 
 young lady, finding a thought for others, 
 now that she was assured of her own safety. 
 " Don't you see it will be death for you to 
 stay ? Let her go, but do you come," reach- 
 ing out her arms in agonizing tenderness. 
 
 "Jump in, Cap'n. We've no time fer 
 foolin'. I'm gwine ter shove off. The b'iler 
 'ill bust in a minit, an' we'll all be blowed ter 
 kingdom come feet up'ards. Jump aboard, 
 if you're gwine ter," ordered the mate in 
 charge of the boat. 
 
 "But there is a lady aboard. I must find 
 her my wife. Wait a moment until I can 
 run up after her ;" and, without waiting an 
 answer, he turned to speed up the cabin 
 steps. 
 
 " No, I can't wait another second. Shove
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 317 
 
 off, Bullard, and bend to your oars, men ; we 
 must hustle from here, or there won't be a 
 piece of us left big enuff ter patch a nigger's 
 nose, " and in an instant the boat shot out, 
 leaving the helpless man and his missing 
 wife to their fate. 
 
 The flames had already burst through the 
 hatches in the lower deck, and were now 
 sweeping it from stem to stern, hissing and 
 swirling and crackling like angry demons, 
 while the choking, pitchy smoke was belch- 
 ing and curling through the saloon and cabin 
 above. 
 
 "It maybe that she is asleep in a state- 
 room. God help me to find her," he mur- 
 mured; and into the seething smoke he 
 plunged, to find and save, if possible, or, if 
 not, to perish, too. 
 
 There was more than mortal pathos in his 
 voice as, groping his way through the blind- 
 ing and smothering smoke, he wailed rather 
 than cried : 
 
 "Abigail ! Abigail ! My wife ! my love ! 
 If you hear, for the love of Christ come, or 
 else call, that I may go to thee ! " 
 
 But there was no response to the agonizing 
 call ; and, having traversed the full length 
 of the cabin hall, kicking open, as if they had 
 been so many paper shells, each stateroom
 
 318 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 door, on the right and on the left, as he went, 
 until, at last, scorched and driven by the 
 hissing tongues of the flames themselves, as 
 they began to thrust themselves through the 
 cracks and crevices of the floor, he was com- 
 pelled, through sheer exhaustion, to seek one 
 more gasp of fresh air out upon the after- 
 deck, the one only little breathing spot left of 
 all that broad sweep of deck. 
 
 "Oh ! my darling ! my darling ! Mine 
 mine at last ! And now I am willing to 
 die ! " he cried, as he found her out there, 
 driven to the uttermost verge of the deck, 
 and standing, as if thoughtfully deliberating 
 which to choose the sharp, quick death by 
 the flames, or the Lethean gloom of the dark 
 waters below. 
 
 " Oh ! is it for me that you have come? 
 My God, I thank Thee ! And I, too, am will- 
 ing to die ! " she answered, reaching out her 
 hands. And then, encircled in each other's 
 arms, heart beating against heart, lip glued 
 to lip in one long, tender, loving kiss, all the 
 miserable past was lifted away ; all misun- 
 derstanding, all estrangement, all doubts 
 were cleared from their lives, and, soul melt- 
 ing in soul, each felt that henceforth, be it in 
 life or be it in death, they were no longer to 
 be divided.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 319 
 
 For a full minute he held her there, close 
 to his heart, each oblivious to the hissing and 
 roaring danger that held them ; and then, 
 lifted up by a sudden inspiration, he released 
 her, and, gently putting her back, he cried : 
 
 "But, darling, we need not die; I have 
 come to save you. You must let me." 
 
 " Yes ; life from your hands will be'sweet, 
 as death in your arms would be sweet," she 
 answered, calmly. 
 
 "Then, here, we have only to be brave," 
 seizing the cork- jackets that lay untouched 
 around. "Fasten this around your waist 
 let me ! " and in an instant he had a life-pre- 
 server buckled under her arms. 
 
 And then, as calmly as if disrobing for a 
 siesta he threw off his coat and drew off his 
 boots and fastened a mattress of floats 
 around his own waist, encouragingly speak- 
 ing all the while. 
 
 "I can swim, darling, and can save you. 
 You must trust me to save you, only be 
 brave and strong and trust me . " 
 
 ' ' I will be brave. I am not afraid. I can 
 nnd I do trust you, only this, give me one 
 little moment, it maybe our last, but I must 
 tell you before I go, how dearly I love you; 
 how much my heart blesses you for coming, 
 and how very, very happy I am."
 
 320 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "And I bless you for speaking it, for I, 
 too, am happy. It would be sweet to die, 
 holding you thus, my own precious wife," 
 catching her to his heart again. 
 
 She kissed him softly, and gently putting 
 him back, answered. 
 
 " Yes, if God wills it for us thus to die, I 
 could wish for no happier fate than to die 
 with your arms about me, and in death to 
 be 'no more divided. But, my husband, I 
 am ready, what is it you would have me 
 do?" 
 
 "Yes, we have no time to lose. And 
 now, sweet one, you must not mind, but you 
 must divest yourself of all your superfluous 
 skirts ; you must not be encumbered with 
 too much clothing; they will only weight 
 you down and hinder you." 
 
 " Ah, yes, I understand, it would be a false 
 modesty not to know ; " and turning aside 
 she deftly discarded all her surplus drapery, 
 blushing in true maiden modesty as she 
 stood before him, with only her one clinging 
 gown of summer cashmere to drape her lis- 
 some form. 
 
 " I am ready, now," she said.. " Or shall 
 I take off my shoes ? " 
 
 " No, you are safe as you are, and we have 
 not a moment left. I will jump first, and
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 321 
 
 you must follow, only be brave. And now 
 sweet, one more kiss. God bless you, my 
 sweet, sweet wife," and with a kiss holy in 
 its agony of love, he embraced her once 
 more and then plunged in. 
 
 In an instant he arose from the water and 
 holding up his hands cried, "Now, darling, 
 come." 
 
 With the calm dignity of a Caesar, draw- 
 ing his robes about him to face his death, 
 and as graceful as a Greek goddess stepping 
 into a bath, she gathered the soft folds of her 
 dress closely around her knees, and with a 
 silent prayer for grace she sprang after 
 him. 
 
 She had hardly touched the water before 
 she felt herself upborne by the buoyant, 
 strong hand of her husband. 
 
 Wheeling his back to her he said, his voice 
 strong and assuring : 
 
 "Now, sweet one, you must rest your 
 hands on my shoulders and swim on my 
 back. This way," placing the obedient 
 hands in position. "Hold firmly, but do 
 not try to climb over me ; never mind your 
 body if it is under, do not try to keep it out; 
 every pound in the air outweighs ten in the 
 water. Do not gulp the water down, but in- 
 hale as much air as possible; keep your chest 
 
 su
 
 322 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 \ 
 
 inflated. Kick as much as you please, but do 
 not try to pull up with your hands. Ah, 
 now, you have only to be brave and collected 
 and I will save you," and with vigorous 
 strokes from his strong arms he launched 
 out into the current. 
 
 Luckily the tide was running out and a 
 strong current was sweeping by, and a few 
 strokes carried him beyond the scorching 
 breath of the flames. 
 
 He soon found, however, that the current 
 set strongly to the opposite shore, fully a 
 mile away. He tried to steer for the nearer 
 bank, but the cross-current was too strong 
 and he gave it up. By floating with the 
 current and buoyed up by the cork jackets 
 he could swim for hours, and yielding to its 
 drift he struck out upon the tide. 
 
 " Now, dearest, how are you ? " he asked, 
 after a few minutes' silence had assured him 
 of his strength. 
 
 " You must not think me selfish, but I am 
 very happy," she answered, unconsciously 
 tightening her clasp upon his shoulders 
 with a tender pressure. 
 
 "God bless you," he murmured, more in 
 response to the tender clasp than to the 
 words she whispered, although they were 
 marvelously sweet.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 323 
 
 "But you?" she asked, "how is it with 
 you ? Do you feel my weight too heavily ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, I do not feel it at all, but rather, 
 darling, the touch of your hand is a buoy to 
 my strength. It gives energy and life to all 
 my being. I could swim thus to Fortress 
 Monroe." 
 
 Five minutes more and they were half-way 
 across and could begin to distinguish objects 
 on the bank. 
 
 "Ah, they see us from the shore and are 
 coming to help," she cried, as she espied a 
 lady running down the bank, closely fol- 
 lowed by two negro men. 
 
 "It may be good in them, but I do not 
 want their help. I wish to save my dar- 
 ling all by myself. Oh, Abigail, do you 
 know that I would be glad to die for you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know it, I understand it, for I feel 
 it all myself. But, sir, you have saved me, 
 and all by yourself, for had you not come I 
 must have perished. Ah, how good it was 
 in you to come." 
 
 "But how came it that you were left 
 there all alone by yourself ? " 
 
 " I was in my stateroom. I had secured 
 a room and was was trying to to hide 
 away from all that happy throng, and I did 
 not know, until I felt the boat as it grounded ;
 
 324 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 and then the smoke came so blinding that I 
 could only make my way to where you 
 found me. Oh ! I must always bless you for 
 coming. " 
 
 The lady on shore had now reached the 
 landing and was hurriedly encouraging the 
 darkies to launch a boat. 
 
 " Now," she cried, as the boat floated high 
 and the negroes sprang in. " Now, pull for 
 your lives, and I'll give you five silver dollars 
 if you save him." 
 
 " Yes-um we'll git dar, an' doan yer skeer 
 yourseff, Miss Tally," and off they pulled for 
 dear life. 
 
 " And you, little Jack," she continued, as 
 a grinning little imp of ebony came puffing 
 down the bank, " run back to the house and 
 tell papa to send the carriage. Oh ! I do be- 
 lieve there are two of them ! Yes, indeed 
 there are two," adjusting her glass and look- 
 ing again, ' ' and one is a lady ! Run, Jack, 
 and tell him to hurry with the carriage and 
 to put in the cloaks and the blankets and the 
 brandy. Pull, Ben ! pull, Dick ! pull for 
 your lives, you rascals, you ! Ah ! that is 
 brave ! Huzza ! you are gaining on them 
 fast ! Pull ! pull ! both together ! Ah ! there, 
 you have them now ! Safe ! safe ! thank God
 
 DAVID AXD ABIGAIL. 325 
 
 they are safe ! Huzza ! huzza ! " and dancing 
 in wild delight she threw up her hat unmind- 
 ful of the breeze that swept it, ribbons, feath- 
 ers and all like a kite, far out into the 
 river, as she saw the negroes drop their oars 
 and lift a lady in, and followed by a man 
 dripping like a great Newfoundland dog, as 
 he pulled himself over the gunwale. 
 
 The boat was turned and rapidly pulled 
 in to shore. 
 
 " Ah ! you are safe ! We saw the burning 
 boat and then we saw you jump in. We 
 could see through the telescope, and when 
 we saw you drifting with the current to this 
 side we ran down to help. It was a brave 
 swim you made. I don't much believe I 
 could have beaten it myself. I am so glad 
 that you could hold out. It was a fearful 
 thing to see you struggling so far out in the 
 river," rattled the young lady, in encourag- 
 ing volubility, as she stood up to her ankles 
 in mud, to welcome them to the land. 
 
 "And we must thank you for your 
 help -" commenced the gentleman. 
 
 " No ! no ! " quickly interrupting, " it was 
 nothing but right. And besides it wasn't 
 really so much, after all. I have swam 
 across to the lower point yonder, myself. 
 And the lady I hope you are not quite
 
 326 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 overcome," turning her attention to Abi- 
 gail. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I do not feel the slightest dis- 
 comfort ; only gratitude and love and glad- 
 ness," putting her hands to her face and 
 bursting into tears. 
 
 For a moment he suffered her to weep 
 pent-up nature required this much and 
 then, kneeling before her, he took her in 
 his arms and kissed the tears away. 
 
 The lady, respecting the feelings that 
 swayed them both, turned away her face. 
 
 'Ah ! here is papa with the cloaks. Is 
 the carriage coming ? " as an elderly gentle- 
 man came puffing down the bank, loaded 
 with cloaks and wraps. 
 
 "Yes, the carriage is coming, but I have 
 brought the brandy with me. Here, my 
 dear miss, let me offer you a stiff horn 
 
 "Oh, no, no! papa, see, or, no, you 
 mustn't look. Give me the wraps and cloak 
 and you turn your back," snatching the vest- 
 ments from him and pouncing upon the 
 shrinking lady. Her feminine instincts were 
 quick to discover the skirtless predicament 
 of her sister-woman and in an instant she 
 was hovering over her, winding wrap upon 
 wrap, and cloak over cloak, until there was 
 suffocation. "Now, papa, you
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 327 
 
 may look," after the draping had been 
 finished, or rather suspended for the lack of 
 another cloak, and the muffled lady stood 
 blushing before him. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! I must beg your pardon, miss, 
 for my indiscretion, but really I wouldn't have 
 noticed your your ah ! hem anything, 
 if Sallie hadn't told me. You must excuse 
 me ! " bowing rather sheepishly, with his 
 good-natured face as red as a beet. "And 
 now you will have a dram ? " 
 
 "I am sure it will help you," said her hus- 
 band, taking the glass for her. 
 
 Without question she took the glass and 
 drank its contents. Had he suggested a glass 
 of hydrocyanic acid she would have swal- 
 lowed it down with a smile. 
 
 ' c And now you ? " she asked, considerate 
 of his comfort. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! certainly," and had it been a 
 potion of the same deadly drug, he would 
 have as willingly drank it down from her 
 hands. ' ' And here, sir, ' ' filling the glass an d 
 waving it to the gentleman, "are my most 
 humble regards," and then with a bow to 
 the young lady, "and you, fair lady, must 
 allow me to pledge my most grateful 
 duty." 
 
 The young lady acknowledged the health
 
 328 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 by a charming little courtsey, and the old 
 gentleman chipped in :^ 
 
 " Thanks, sir, both for myself and my 
 daughter ; and here is a coat for you. It is 
 none too cool, but until we can get you to 
 the house and get off those soggy clothes, 
 it will be best to wrap up a little." 
 
 The young gentleman felt no pressing 
 need of the precaution, but he accepted the 
 friendly offer and donned the coat, which, by 
 a happy chance, was a passable fit. 
 
 " Come, now, the carriage is ready. We 
 must get you both to the house, and have 
 dry clothing, if not put you to bed," con- 
 tinued the hospitable gentleman, leading the 
 way to the carriage. 
 
 " Let the ladies ride. I should prefer the 
 walk. It will strengthen me. My legs are 
 a little stiff," Winston begged, after handing 
 the ladies in. The carriage drove on and the 
 gentlemen walked after, Winston in his 
 stocking-feet ; but the grassy lawn was as 
 soft as a carpet, and his heart so strangely 
 light and happy that he felt as if he was 
 walking on a bed of roses. 
 
 Arrived at the house the first thing was to 
 hurry them to rooms and to see to the bath 
 and dry clothing. 
 
 The lavender-scented wardrobe of Miss
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 329 
 
 Vincent was ample for any emergency, and 
 had Abigail Abigail once more, now and 
 forever listened to its hospitable sugges- 
 tions, she would have found it difficult to 
 walk under the avalanche of snowy lingerie, 
 cambric, lawn and mull, urged upon her. 
 And then as to gowns : what would she 
 wear ? "A lilac silk ; a heliotrope cash- 
 mere ; a mauve barege ; a pink challie ; a 
 rose organdie, or would you like this black 
 alpaca ? We are luckily nearly the same 
 size and figure, so that any of them will 
 fit you, and they are all equally at your 
 service. " 
 
 ' ' If you please, I will wear this organdie ; 
 it looks so fresh and bright, and my heart is 
 so fresh, and light, and glad, that I should 
 wish everything to be in harmony with its 
 gladness. " 
 
 " Certainly, yes ; and it will so well be- 
 come your well, I must speak it your fresh 
 and radiant beauty. And now for boots ; I 
 am quite in despair ; you can never wear one 
 of my enormous galoshes ; so you will have 
 to stagger around in a pair of my slippers, 
 until Clary can dry yours." 
 
 " Yes ! if you please. The slippers will do 
 charmingly, I am sure, and mine can soon 
 dry."
 
 330 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " To be sure. Here, Clary, get a sponge 
 and brush and dry the lady's boots. Put hot 
 peas in them, that will soon dry them. And 
 here, you must clean mine too, the mud is 
 nearly to their tops. And, Clary, tell Ben 
 to go down to the landing and look for my 
 hat ; it blew in the river. Tell him to find 
 it and give it to Dolly. " 
 
 The thin boots were easily dried, and by 
 the time the magnificent suit of hair had 
 been taken down, straightened out and ad- 
 mired, and then coiled again into a crown of 
 queenly beauty, Clary came in 'with them, 
 and lacing them on, Abigail Winston stepped 
 forth to go down into the drawing-room to 
 join the others, as bright, fresh, rosy and 
 sweet, a lovely bride as ever stepped forth to 
 meet her heart's chosen lord. 
 
 The gentleman's toilet had not been nearly 
 so elaborate, nor so troublesome to select. 
 Suitable, easy-fitting unmentionables had 
 been found, and a plain dress suit well-be- 
 coming to the tall manly form from Mr. Vin- 
 cent, Jr.'s wardrobe, put him in satisfied 
 countenance with himself and all the world. 
 No ill effects of the plunge nor the swim 
 was felt by either of the young persons, but, 
 rather invigorated by the plunge and its sup- 
 plemental bath at the house, they felt a
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 331 
 
 warm glow of health and strength and 
 youthful vivre tingling every vein and 
 dancing in every nerve. 
 
 The gentlemen had preceded the ladies to 
 the drawing-room, and Winston was ex- 
 plaining the nature of the disaster when 
 they came in. 
 
 David arose, as Abigail paused for a mo- 
 ment in the door, as if uncertain still of her 
 welcome. Never before had she appeared to 
 such an advantage, so radiantly lovely ; so 
 bewitchingly sweet ; so gloriously beautiful ; 
 and then whe'n she caught the love-light in 
 his eye, her very being was beatified, and 
 she stood, in her gladness, more angelic than 
 human. 
 
 For a little while, absolutely spellbound 
 in the bliss of adoration, he stood and gazed 
 upon her, and then he stepped forward to 
 meet her. Drawing her to his breast he 
 tenderly kissed her and then taking her 
 hand he turned to his host : 
 
 "Mr. Vincent, this is my wife, Mrs. 
 Winston. I always knew that women were 
 gracious and sweet, but this one has taught 
 me that they can be noble, grand and true 
 as well." 
 
 " I am glad to know Mrs. Winston, and 
 do most heartily congratulate you upon
 
 332 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 the possession of such a woman for your 
 wife. And you, Madam, I must congrat- 
 ulate you upon your happy escape. It was 
 a fearful thing to see the burning of that 
 magnificent boat." 
 
 " Yes ! Thanks for your kindness," smil- 
 ingly shaking the friendly hand. And then 
 turning to Miss Vincent she .continued : 
 "And you, Miss Vincent, you must allow 
 me to present my husband. If women can 
 be gracious men can be brave. At the 
 peril of his own he saved my life. Sweet as 
 it was before, it is doubly sweet to me now." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Winston," offering a friendly 
 hand. "I witnessed your peril and your* 
 courage ; the one was appalling, as the 
 other was sublime, and I, too, must con- 
 gratulate you upon your deliverance." 
 
 "Thank you, but it was my wife's," ah ! 
 was there ever such a honeyed word on his 
 tongue before ? "It was my wife's courage 
 that inspired my own. And you, Miss 
 Vincent, I must thank you again for your 
 timely assistance. And your negroes I 
 must reward thera ! " 
 
 "Oh! nevermind, you. I have already 
 done that. I promised them five silver 
 dollars if they saved you in time." 
 1 "Then you must let me add ten more to
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 333 
 
 that. Please do ! But humph ! Well, well ! 
 I do believe that I left my pocket-book in 
 my coat ! Yes, it is gone, " f eeling blankly for 
 his pocket-book. 
 
 " Oh ! did you ? I hope it was not a seri- 
 ous loss," cried the young lady. 
 
 "Ah, no ! scarcely a hundred dollars, and 
 a few unimportant papers. The loss is not 
 serious, and does not greatly matter, only, 
 it is a little embarrassing to find myself 
 thrown so completely upon your charity. " 
 
 " Oh ! we are only too glad to serve you," 
 interrupted the hospitable host. ' 'And never 
 mind the boys ; I will settle it with them." 
 
 "I was more fortunate with mine," said 
 Abigail, handing him her porte-monnaie. 
 ' ' I had it in my dress-pocket and it is safe. 
 Please take it ? " 
 
 The tender love-light in his eyes thanked 
 her as he took it ; and opening he took two 
 gold pieces and handing them to Miss 
 Vincent, said : 
 
 "Please give these to the men with our 
 thanks. " 
 
 There was a little hitch in closing the 
 inner clasp of the porte-monnaie, and looking 
 to adjust it he saw, suddenly flashed to light 
 from its long hiding-place in the inner 
 pocket, the little, thin, well-worn wedding-
 
 334 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 ring. He recognized it with a thrill, and 
 taking it out reverently kissed it, and turn- 
 ing to Abigail, said : 
 
 ' ' Ah ! here is the ring ! Blessed ring ! I 
 must put it on again," and taking her hand 
 he placed it upon her finger, to be buried 
 with her when she conies to die. 
 
 The stranger witnesses did not understand 
 the reverential tremor in his voice, nor the 
 tear in her eye, but they instinctively felt 
 that they were standing in the presence of 
 a mortal love made holy by suffering and by 
 sorrow. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AFTERMATH. 
 
 A FEW moments' silence, almost holy in its 
 solemn hush, followed, and then came the 
 long, hoarse signal-whistle of a passing 
 steamer, floating up from the river into the 
 hall and windows. 
 
 "Ah ! that is the Taney, signaling the 
 wreck. She is going to land for the passen- 
 gers," cried Mr. Vincent, starting out upon 
 the veranda to see. 
 "Indeed ! And cannot we hail it? We
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 335 
 
 must get back to the capital at once, or our 
 friends will give us out as lost," said 
 Winston, following eagerly after. 
 
 "No, that is impossible. She will land 
 nearly a mile above, on the opposite side, 
 and will not drop back for me. She is 
 nearly an hour behind, anyway." 
 
 " But how am I to communicate with the 
 city ? It is urgent. Our friends already 
 think us lost, and the news must not be sent 
 abroad. " 
 
 "I can send the carriage to Alexandria ; 
 it is but an hour's drive, and you can catch 
 a boat there. There is a ferry every half 
 hour. It is now five- twenty, Jim can have 
 you there in time for the six-thirty boat. 
 I wish, though, that you would allow me to 
 send a messenger to the city, and you stop 
 with us until to-morrow. Mrs. Winston, I 
 am sure needs the rest. " 
 
 " If so, if she needs 'it, we will stay," turn- 
 ing a loving glance to his wife, who with 
 Miss Vincent had followed them out. 
 
 "Oh, no ! If possible, we should go at 
 once. Poor Nanny, I know, will be distract- 
 ed when she learns that I am missing. And 
 Mrs. Whiting ! Oh ! we must relieve them 
 if we can," said Abigail, in sad concern for 
 the anxiety of Nanny.
 
 336 . DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 11 Very well. I appreciate your solicitude, 
 and will excuse you ; only you must promise 
 to come down and spend a whole week with 
 us before Congress adjourns." 
 
 " It will be a pleasure to us to make your 
 better acquaintance, and we will come ; " and 
 thus settled, the carriage was ordered, and in 
 a few moments more they were rapidly 
 bowling along the well- graded road on the 
 way to Alexandria. 
 
 " And now, darling, tell me ? " he asked, 
 settling back by her side on the springy seat 
 of the 'phaeton, as they whirled along the 
 pleasant way beneath the green trees. 
 
 "Of my life abroad, and how I came 
 home ? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes, yes, tell all. I wish to know every- 
 thing about you. Where all you have been ? 
 And how you came ? Ah ! you cannot know 
 how fondly my poor heart has followed, or 
 tried to follow you, in all these days of weary 
 exile. " 
 
 " I think I know now, for my own heart 
 has felt all of the sad unrest. I could hear 
 from you, though, through the press, and 
 that gave me comfort. Oh ! I was so proud of 
 your advancement, of your distinction 
 
 "And do you know, darling, that I owe it 
 all to you ? " he interrupted.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 337 
 
 " I should be glad to know that I had a 
 little, if ever so little, part in your suc- 
 cess." 
 
 "No ; not a little ; not a part only, but a 
 whole, an entirety. All, all that I am I owe 
 to you. And, sweet one, I am so glad that 
 I do. But tell on of yourself. Never mind 
 me, but of your own dear self ? " 
 
 " Well, my life was not altogether a 
 blank, I loved you all the while and should 
 have loved you always, that is, unless a hap- 
 pier one should have taken you from me and 
 made it a sin for me to love you at all," 
 with a little shudder at the vanished possi- 
 bility, soothed by a tighter pressure of his 
 arm around her waist. " But it was a lone- 
 some waiting, and my heart would some- 
 times grow faint and sick with its impatient 
 longing, but I could find courage to bear it, 
 and, naturally of a glad temperament, I 
 made the best of it. I had good friends ; very 
 kind and very sweet ; I had a pleasant home 
 near Florence, where we spent the winter, 
 and in the summer we would travel. We 
 visited all the cities of Europe, and Palestine 
 and Egypt. Of course it was exciting and 
 curious, if not really pleasant, and it served 
 to divert my my my, well I must say it, 
 
 my sorrowing thoughts from home." 
 
 22
 
 338 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " My poor wing- weary dove." 
 
 "Yes, at times I grew weary, and was 
 almost glad when the November frosts 
 would send us back to Florence." 
 
 " Ah, tell me of Florence, and of your 
 country home ! Do you know that I, too, 
 heard from you ? That "I had a little bird, 
 constantly on the wing bringing me tidings 
 of my Princess." 
 
 "Oh! did you? Then I hope it was a 
 nightingale, silver-throated and sweet, and 
 it told you of all my pleasant dreams of you, 
 and the many happy happy thoughts I was 
 all the while thinking of you." 
 
 "And did you dream of me, darling? I 
 must bless you for your dreams. And I know, 
 too, that you were thoughtful of me ; kindly 
 thoughtful of me. I heard, quite by acci- 
 dent, of your letter to Mr. Sneed, and oh, 
 darling ! while it shamed me with a sense 
 of my own unworthiness, I had to bless you 
 then for your sweetness. And do you know 
 that that one unselfish, unlooked-for act of 
 yours, was the die that turned the tide and 
 saved me from defeat." 
 
 "Not unselfish, darling, for I held you 
 then, in my secret soul as mine own ; my 
 husband then as now. Your success then 
 was dear to me as it is now or can ever be."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 339 
 
 " This is very sweet. Can I ever love you 
 enough for all this ? " 
 
 "It was certainly sweet to me, for all the 
 while I felt, in the secret and most holy 
 depths of my soul absolutely sure of you. 
 
 " ' 'Twas not the want of love's assurance ; 
 
 It was not doubting what thou wert ; 
 But 'twas the too, too long endurance 
 Of absence that distressed my heart.' 
 
 And somehow it would come to me, even in 
 my moments of deepest repining, that we 
 would some day, in the happy future, come 
 together. That you were all the world to 
 me ; my lord and my master ; and that you 
 would some blissful day come to claim your 
 own." 
 
 " Oh, darling ! I did so long to come, but 
 I felt so unworthy, so wretched and mean 
 that I was ashamed to come. But, sweet 
 one, tell me on ; all about your life and 
 home at Florence ! " 
 
 " Ah, and did not your little bird tell you 
 all?" 
 
 "No, not all; for it was not a silver 
 throat, but rather of evil tongue and black- 
 winged as Poe's gloomy raven, and it was 
 only happy when tantalizing me with stories 
 of other men's happiness." 
 
 " How ? " wonderingly.
 
 340 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Ah ! Jake Gorman," laughingly. 
 
 "I hope that did not distress you ?" with 
 a pretty blush. " I was really sorry for the 
 gentleman. But I could not help it," in a 
 little dismay at something, she could not im- 
 agine what. 
 
 " Oh, no, of course not. Neither could 
 poor Jake. Only I was so glad of it. It was 
 such a weight lifted off my heart when I 
 heard that poor Jake had been so neatly done 
 for. Ha, ha 
 
 " Are you really laughing at me ? " draw- 
 ing up a little stiffly. 
 
 ' ' Oh, no ; not you, darling. I was only 
 laughing at poor Jake, flabbergasted, ha, ha! 
 yes, that's what Miss Pauline called it. But, 
 darling," sobering up a little as Abigail tried 
 to pull a little farther away, " what became 
 of the Count?-" 
 
 " The Count Frangapani ? " 
 
 " Oh, oh ! and there was another one ? " 
 
 " There was a Count Frangapani." 
 
 "Ah, was there? But that was not the 
 one my bird croaked so ominously about. It 
 was a Count Pacetti." 
 
 ' ' Oh, " with a smile. ' ' Yes, Count Pacetti ; 
 and I must tell you of Count Pacetti. Such a 
 pleasant gentleman ! A true nobleman in 
 nature as well as in rank ; and we had such
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 341 
 
 a pleasant time and such a nice little wed- 
 ding.'^ 
 
 " Wedding ? " interrupting with a positive 
 snort, "with whom?" 
 
 " Yes, wedding, with the Count Pacetti." 
 
 "You don't mean to tell .me that you " 
 
 "Gave Miss Whiting and the Count a 
 wedding ? Of course I did, as elegant an 
 affair as I could possibly devise. And it was 
 in truth a very pleasant occasion, and they 
 are a very happy couple, and I do wish them 
 all the happiness they both so well deserve." 
 
 " Oh, darling, you must forgive me, but I 
 am positively silly ; this happiness is all so 
 new, so surprising, so unexpected, and I feel 
 myself so utterly unworthy of it all, that I 
 cannot fully realize its sober truth. You 
 are so sweet, so dear, so precious, that I can- 
 not quite feel certain that you are indeed my 
 own ; and I had heard that it was you the 
 Count was wishing to marry." 
 
 " Then your bird must have had a raven's 
 throat as well as wing," with a happy smile. 
 
 "And this other? The Count Franga- 
 pani?" 
 
 " Is a venerable old gentleman, who was 
 very kind to me, and who made my sojourn 
 at Florence more pleasant than it otherwise 
 would have been. His friendship was not
 
 342 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 only a pleasure and an honor, but a protec- 
 tion as well. No one near Florence would 
 think of offending a protegee of the Count 
 Frangapani." 
 
 " Then I must bless the count for befriend- 
 ing my darling. But tell me how came you 
 to leave Florence, and when ? You must 
 not blame my presumption too much, but 
 everything about you, about your life and 
 your doings, is so precious to me that I must 
 know them all." 
 
 "You are good, and I think that I under- 
 stand you, and I wish to tell you all ; I do not 
 know of even a thought that I would care to 
 conceal. We left Florence in March, immedi- 
 ately after Miss Whiting's marriage, we 
 came over to England and spent the spring 
 in journeying through the three kingdoms, 
 traveling at leisure from place to place. 
 On the tenth instant we sailed from Liverpool 
 to New York, where we landed on the 
 twentieth, and then the next day we came 
 on here. We were going directly through 
 on our way to Richmond, but missed con- 
 nection yesterday morning and had to stop 
 over. We heard that you were to speak, 
 and I so longed to see and hear you, that I 
 prevailed on Mr. Whiting to secure tickets 
 for the gallery and we went ; and oh,
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 343 
 
 darling, my very heart seemed melted into a 
 fount of gratitude and love as I saw and 
 listened to you. And then, when after you 
 had finished, and you chanced to look up and 
 I caught your eye, I would have given my 
 life to have crawled to your feet and beg you 
 to take me home to your heart. Oh, darling, 
 did you know me ? " 
 
 ' k I recognized you then, sweet one, as the 
 mistress of my soul, the queen of my life, 
 but I did not know that it was you, my very, 
 very own. And then," he went on, after 
 kissing her hand, "when I saw you again 
 at the opera, I was wretched, for, Abigail, 
 do you know that then a' guilty thought, the 
 first that ever tainted my manhood, entered, 
 my brain, and overwhelmed my reason." 
 
 " No, no ; " with a tender protest. 
 
 " Yes, when I saw you then, so lovely, so 
 radiant, so fair to look upon, my truth, my 
 faith to my absent wife, the wife whom I 
 had learned to love and so longed to see, was 
 shaken and destroyed, and I felt guiltily 
 drawn towards you, the beautiful stranger 
 whom I had never seen before. Ah, it was 
 a horrible thought, and I felt like killing 
 myself for my unfaith to the woman whom 
 I had already so cruelly wronged. Oh, dar- 
 ling, paradoxical as it may seem, my love to
 
 344 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 you then, which should have been my sweet- 
 est joy, was in truth the keenest sorrow I 
 ever felt." 
 
 " Ah, happy paradox ! But I understand 
 it. Your heart was wiser than your head, 
 your love was stronger than your reason. 
 Your heart knew me, sweetheart, and your 
 love came out to claim its own. Ah, true 
 love ! " 
 
 "And you do not despise me for my trea- 
 son, and can forgive me for my unf aith to 
 the poor absent one ? " 
 
 "But it was no treason ; your unf aith to 
 her, the absent Grace, was the highest evi- 
 dence of your truth" to me, the present Abi- 
 gail. But oh, darling, had it not been me ? 
 Had it been some other, more deserving even 
 than I, what would I have done ? " 
 
 "You would have had to despise me, 
 dearest, as I despised myself ; for had it not 
 been you, much as I had learned to love you, 
 the poor wandering Abigail, had this other 
 beautiful one whom I hold so fondly now, 
 been indeed some one else, I should have 
 renounced my wife and followed her to the 
 ends of the earth." 
 
 " Then I am glad that it was 3 r our wife, 
 your own, own Abigail, and that I am she, 
 and not a stranger to steal my darling away
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 345 
 
 from myself. Ah, happy me ! happy Abigail, 
 but poor Grace, how I must pity her." 
 
 "And yet, dearest, there was no Grace ; I 
 never thought of you as Grace ; it was Abi- 
 gail, sweet, sweet Abigail, all the while, and 
 it was so stupid in me not to have known 
 you last night." 
 
 " But let me tell you of last night, or no 
 no, it is nothing now, and I need never to 
 tell." 
 
 " Tell anything, darling, that will not pain 
 you to tell. Henceforth our hearts must be 
 one, our thoughts as one." 
 
 " It was only a gossip, a cruel gossip, con- 
 necting you with Miss Stanley. " 
 
 "Yes, I can understand what it was, but it 
 was all a mistake.' Miss Stanley and her 
 father, Senator Stanley, both too well under- 
 stand my position for my attention to her to 
 be misunderstood. Every one sufficiently in- 
 terested in my friendship knows very well 
 that I am a married man. And to-day, after 
 I met you, I told them that you were my 
 much injured wife. Oh, darling, did you 
 not pity me to-day when Milnes introduced 
 us?" 
 
 "No, not pity. I should have had to 
 blame you to pity, but I was very sorry 
 that we met as we did as strangers and
 
 346 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 before strangers. I did so wish to be away, 
 and I hardly knew what to do, to stand and 
 brave it out or to run away and hide." 
 
 " You did admirably that is for my re- 
 lief ; as for yourself, though, you should have 
 openly denounced me as the craven poltroon 
 I felt myself to be." 
 
 " No, no. David may I call you David ? " 
 
 "Yes, if you please. Any name will be 
 sweet from you, the endearing sweetness of 
 your voice would make the name Beelzebub 
 cherubic." 
 
 " Ah, it is sweet in you to think it ; but, 
 David ah, that is bold, but then I have mur- 
 mured it so often, and blessed it so often that 
 it is precious to me ; but, David, I think that 
 I understand you, and have understood all 
 the while. It was a cruel misapprehension 
 that has stood between us all the while. I 
 knew you were not the wretch your morbid 
 sensitiveness made you think yourself.' I 
 knew that you were all that I know you to 
 be now, generous, truthful, brave and good, 
 and oh, darling, I do love you so. But," 
 after recovering from the confusion of kisses 
 that followed, " But, darling ! I must tell 
 you all, and you must not despise me utterly 
 for being so weak, but last night when that 
 heartless gossip oh, that a woman's tongue
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 347 
 
 can be so sharp ! told it so cruelly that you 
 had secured your divorce, from your faith- 
 less wife " 
 
 " Oh darling ; she could not have spoken 
 such a lie ? " 
 
 " Yes, and it cut me to the soul ; and that 
 you were- soon to be married to the lady who 
 looked so happy by your side, I I had to 
 falter, and in despair, I resolved to kill my 
 love, my sweet love, while it was yet inno- 
 cent ; to kill it and bury it away before it 
 became a sin for me to love you longer, and 
 to help me to kill it forever, without the 
 hope of resurrection, I I I oh, darling, 
 forgive me 
 
 " Say no more, sweet one ! I understand, 
 it was brave, it was good in you to do so." 
 
 " But you do not know, I went so far in 
 my desperation as to write to another, a kind, 
 true-hearted gentleman, who was acquainted 
 with my unhappy past and who would, I 
 think, have been willing to take me, heart- 
 sore as I was." 
 
 "Darling, you need not tell," interrupting 
 and stopping her mouth with a kiss. 
 
 " Marse, will yer go ter de tavern or muss 
 I drive ter de landin' ? " asked their Jehu, as 
 he drew up in the good old Virginia town of 
 Alexandria.
 
 348 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "To the ferry, of course. We only have 
 five minutes. " 
 
 The Taney had passed and already spread 
 the news of the disaster with exaggerated 
 reports of the casualties, each vehement 
 reporter fixing the loss in exact ratio to his 
 or her own danger ; some stating it as high 
 as fifty souls lost, and others all the way 
 down to a dozen, but all agreeing upon one 
 particular loss, the saddest of them all, the 
 young and brilliant Congressman, Winston, 
 who was bodily burned alive while heroically 
 trying to rescue a strange lady and her five 
 little children, two at the breast, all seven, 
 Congressman, mother, and the five little 
 innocents, cremated in each other's arras. 
 
 The truth of the matter happily isj there 
 was but one single soul lost, a truly loyal 
 pilgrim from Skowhegan, who had imbibed 
 too much patriotism at the tomb of Wash- 
 ington and was too soundly sleeping off its 
 somniferous effects to be awakened in time 
 to scramble to the boats, and he went up. like 
 Elijah of old, in a blaze of fire, without 
 knowing, perhaps, how he got there. This, 
 with a few bruised heads and a half dozen 
 broken shins, caused by the beastly scramble 
 for the boats, was all the loss to life and 
 limb.
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 349 
 
 David and Abigail listened with a vague 
 feeling of amazed horror at the story of their 
 cremation, but did not venture to contradict 
 it. It was only when they had landed and 
 he had secured a cab, that he realized the 
 importance of correcting the harrowing 
 report : 
 
 "Drive to the telegraph office as soon as 
 you can, " he ordered, and in fifteen minutes 
 they were at the door of the office. 
 
 " Wait here, a minute," to cabby; "please 
 excuse me a second, darling," this to his 
 wife, " I wish to send a telegram ; " and out 
 he jumped and in the office he rushed. 
 
 "Have you sent off any reports concern- 
 ing the burning of the Sunrise ? " he asked 
 of the manager. 
 
 " Yes, as hard as we can clatter, and have 
 a thousand words on file yet to send. Here 
 is a blank, write it out if you want to send 
 one and it will take its turn," shoving a 
 blank-pad in his face. 
 
 " Let me ask if the death of Winston has 
 been dispatched ? " 
 
 "Yes, that's the best part of the news; 
 that is I mean it's the cream of the whole 
 joke that is to say, it's the most important 
 item of the whole affair. Without that the 
 thing would hardly be worth reporting."
 
 350 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 "Then, sir, I am sorry to spoil your sensa- 
 tion, but Winston is not dead at all. I am 
 Winston, and, as you can see, am not at all 
 worse for the scare." 
 
 By Jimmy ! is that so ? Are you quite 
 certain of it ? " 
 
 "Quite certain. I swam to the Virginia 
 shore and was picked up by a skiff. My 
 wife too, is safe ; indeed, sir, I think that all 
 were saved. I was, I think, the last to leave 
 the boat, and all were well out of it when I 
 plunged in the river. Please have your 
 operators to make the necessary correction, 
 so far as I am concerned ? " 
 
 "Yes, I will; I am glad you told me. 
 Boys, here, each of you add a correction to 
 each message that you send, so : ' Later, 
 Winston and lady are safe ; swam ashore in 
 a skiff.' Will that do?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 " Very well, who will pay for this ? " 
 
 " Send the bill to the National Hotel and I 
 will pay it." 
 
 "All right, I am glad that you are safe," 
 nodding his congratulations, but "adding 
 sotto voce: " But it's a blamed pity to spoil 
 the milk in the cocoanut ; his death was worth 
 all the balance ; however, it was a good 
 streak of luck for us, and the corrections
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 351 
 
 will be so much more. I'll make him pay 
 for every one of them." 
 
 " Now, John, drive to the National as fast 
 as you can," to the driver. "They were 
 flashing it all over the land that we were 
 lost," jumping in the cab, and clasping his 
 wife's hand, doubtless to assure himself that 
 she was really safe. " I was just in time." 
 
 "Poor Nanny, I know that she is dis- 
 tracted," and David thought it was very 
 sweet in her to have thought for the anxiety 
 of her negro maid, at such a moment, even 
 though it must put him a little out of coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 In a minute more they were at the 
 National, where the office and corridors 
 were thronged with an excited crowd, listen- 
 ing to the details of the terrible affair. As 
 gently as he could he slipped her through 
 the ladies' entrance up to the ladies' drawing 
 room, where, calling a chambermaid, Abigail 
 asked : 
 
 "Has Mrs. Whiting, the lady in thirty- 
 six, returned?" 
 
 "Yes, mum, but the lady in thirty-eight 
 ain't. She was drowned, or burnt up alive, 
 they don't know which, and her nigger 
 woman has got the hysterics wuss nor white 
 fokes. She thest seemed at fust like she'd
 
 352 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 go inter fits, but now she's as sullen as a 'pos- 
 sum." 
 
 ''Well, you go to Mrs. Whiting and tell 
 her that her friend, Mrs. Winston, was not 
 lost, that she is here and quite safe and 
 well." 
 
 "Well, mum, hut she ain't. I tells you, 
 mum, that she was lost, her and Mr. Win- 
 ston, both ! Ever'body says so, 'acaze ever'- 
 body seed them. They are both dead ; dead as 
 the boy that eat the goobers on the burn- 
 ing deck ! That is what Mr. Jolly says. I 
 hearn him tell it myself to Mr. Tenny, and 
 them was his very words." 
 
 "Never mind what Mr. Jolly said ; you 
 go to Mrs. Whiting and tell her to come to 
 me. I am Mrs. Winston." 
 
 " Yes, mum," courtesying out but mutter- 
 ing to herself as she went : "I don't be- 
 lieve a word of it. I know Mr. Jolly knows 
 better than she does. " 
 
 In a moment more Mrs. Whiting, with hair 
 down and eyes red with weeping, came rush- 
 ing in, and catching her friend in her arms, 
 let the cooing sobs and kisses, and mur- 
 mured blessings tell how glad, glad was the 
 surprising joy. 
 
 " And now, Alice, I want to present my hus- 
 band. You know how I have loved him ! but
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 353 
 
 I cannot ever, ever love him enough. It was 
 his great love that saved me," said the 
 happy Abigail, releasing herself from the 
 fond embrace and turning to her husband. 
 
 Mrs. Whiting looked the surprise she 
 could not hide, and then offering her hand 
 said : 
 
 " That he is dear to you makes him my 
 friend. We had heard that you were both 
 lost." 
 
 " No ! I never came near it," a little coldly, 
 for somehow in his heart he felt a little bitter- 
 ness against the Whitings for their selfish 
 and ungenerous abandonment of his dar- 
 ling. 
 
 " And now I must go to Nanny," said 
 Abigail, turning and hurrying up to her 
 room. 
 
 The doubting chambermaid had some- 
 what prepared the negro for the reappear- 
 ance of the mistress she was mourning for 
 dead, or the sudden sight of her would have 
 quite upset her superstitious mind and sent 
 her shrieking out of the window. As it was 
 she had to stand and stare, in dumb amaze- 
 ment at the apparition, until Abigail spoke : 
 
 "It is really I, Nanny ! What are you 
 wondering at ? Don't you see that I am 
 
 safe ? " 
 23
 
 354 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 " Yes, bless de Lord it is you. Oh ! my 
 darling Miss Grace, I is so glad ter see 
 yer. But whar you git dem clothes ? Has 
 yon bin ter hebben shore 'nuff , and is dem 
 de dresses de angels wear ? " in new wonder 
 at the strange attire of her mistress. 
 
 "No! a kind lady loaned me these, and 
 you must help me to take them off and dress 
 me in my own. But, Nanny, you must 
 not call me Miss Grace any longer. I am 
 Abigail now ! David has come and I am 
 Abigail ! so hurry up and dress me before 
 he, your Master David, comes," and in the 
 grateful task of dressing her fair young mis- 
 tress Nanny forgot the wonder, and only 
 loved her the more because of the great grief 
 of the hour before. 
 
 And then just as the last hook in her 
 bodice had been fastened, a timid, half- 
 shamed knock, as if it were afraid bf being 
 heard, came from without, and the blood, 
 incarnadining her face and neck and even the 
 pinky ears told who it was. 
 
 "It is your Master David ! I will open 
 the door myself and bid him come ! And 
 you you may go, Nanny ! " 
 
 It was David (I wonder what little bird 
 it was that told him where the nest of 
 his love was hidden ?) and with a gentle
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 355 
 
 kiss she greeted him ; and then she led him to 
 the table, where she had written the night 
 before, and taking up the letter addressed to 
 Lord Knightleigh, she extended it to him : 
 
 " Here, David, is the letter I wrote last 
 night to Lord Knightleigh ! I am going to 
 burn it. Would you care to read it ? " 
 
 " No, darling ! that it pained you to write it 
 makes it hateful to me ! I am sorry, though, 
 for poor Knightleigh," with an ineffable 
 sense of his own possession. 
 
 ' ' As I am sorry for poor Miss Stanley, " she 
 answered with a smile as self-assuring. 
 And touching the letter to the gas jet she 
 threw it on the hearth and watched it melt 
 into ashes. 
 
 "And now, darling, I came to take you 
 down to dinner, but first we will have to 
 show ourselves in the parlor. I wish to 
 show everybody my queen." 
 
 Winston's appearance in the rotunda had 
 been no less surprising to his friends than 
 Abigail's had been to Mrs. Whiting, and he 
 had to mount a chair and make a little 
 speech in order to convince them that he 
 was indeed alive and in the flesh. But the 
 surprise was equally great and far more dra- 
 matic now as he led his beautiful and blush- 
 ing bride in the parlor and introduced her as
 
 356 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 his wife, "the grandest, the bravest and 
 sweetest woman in all the world." 
 
 The next Saturday morning they crossed 
 over to Alexandria and drove down the 
 river to the Vincent mansion, to pay the 
 promised visit and to thank them again for 
 all their kindness. 
 
 The next week the tiresome Congress 
 adjourned and they went home. And oh, 
 what a joyous home-going it was ! Augusta 
 was almost hysterical in the exuberance of 
 her joy, and wept and smiled, and blessed, 
 and kissed by turns, as she held Abigail to 
 her heart. Judge Winston could only hold 
 her head against his breast and, tenderly 
 patting the flossy crown, silently bless her ; 
 while the babies looked on in infantile 
 wonder and disgust. 
 
 And then after the Judge had released 
 her, and Walter Graves had exacted a 
 brotherly tribute from her rosy cheeks, the 
 babies (bless the babies ! ) themselves had to 
 be paraded. 
 
 " Here, my sister, are my treasures," cried 
 the proud mother, holding up the little 
 Abigail in one arm and pulling the little 
 David forward with the other. "This," 
 presenting baby, "is my darlingest one 
 little Abigail ; tis your aunty, darling."
 
 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 357 
 
 " Abigail ? For me ? " with a halo of glad- 
 ness lighting her face, and a tear trembling 
 on the lashes. 
 
 "Yes, Grace Abigail, for you." 
 
 " Oh, I must bless you, sweet, sweet, 
 sweet ! " she cried, catching the little darling 
 in her arms, and deluging it with kisses. 
 
 "And here is mother's little man ; my 
 little David." 
 
 "Ah, David! I must bless you too," and 
 kneeling she took the little fellow in her dis- 
 engaged arm, and softly kissed him, and 
 then, with a child on each arm, and both 
 clinging lovingly to her neck, she stood up, a 
 living, breathing impersonation of woman- 
 hood, perfect in loveliness, perfect in truth 
 and perfect in gladness. 
 
 There was only the shadow of one sadness 
 to chasten all this happiness ; the absence of 
 that dear, kind and loving old face ; the 
 pleasant smile, the homely but gentle greet- 
 ing which she could never see or hear 
 again. 
 
 "Oh, if he could only see this, could only 
 know my happiness, " she murmured to her 
 husband, as they walked to her room. 
 
 "He does see it, darling, I can feel his 
 presence blessing his child, and blessing me. 
 And, darling, Iam sure that in his prescient
 
 358 DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 love, he saw all this the day he died. Do 
 you know that I was with him ? " 
 
 " Oh, were you ? " gladly. 
 
 "Yes, I lifted him to his bed, and I held 
 his hand as his soul went out to meet his 
 God. His last words were blessings upon 
 you and upon me. Let us cherish his 
 memory, darling, as a precious legacy, but 
 we should not grieve that he is gone before. 
 I only wish that my own end, after a life so 
 useful, may be as peaceful as his." 
 
 " Oh, darling, you do not know how glad 
 it makes me to know this, that you were 
 with him when he died. Ah, had I only 
 known it then, what an age of doubt and 
 misery and despair would have been spared 
 me ! For, David, you must know that that 
 was the darkest hour of my life. The hour 
 I read your father's letter, telling me how 
 utterly I stood alone in the world, and not a 
 word of sympathy from you. It was then 
 for the first time that I was ready to despair 
 of your love, of your pity, for I felt that if 
 you were ever to come, that you would come 
 then, when I so sorely needed your love and 
 your sympathy." 
 
 ' ' My poor darling, I did sympathize with 
 you, and my heart was almost breaking to 
 be with you, but I felt my own unworthiness
 
 DAVID AXD ABIGAIL. 359 
 
 too keenly, my dishonor too acutely. To 
 have seen you would have been to shame my 
 own manhood, nay ! worse, it would have 
 been an insult to you, my darling, a reproach 
 to your womanly dignity. Ah, dearest, you 
 may never know what a misery was mine. 
 To its cruel banishment from its love, my 
 heart had to bear the additional weight of 
 remorse, and that was the saddest load of 
 all." 
 
 "Ah, yes ! but it is over now. We have 
 both suffered ; but let us hope that our suf- 
 ferings was the darkness out of which must 
 come the brightness of our after- joys ! " 
 
 "Ah, yes ! The gladness of holding you 
 thus, my darling, was cheaply earned by all 
 that I suffered then." 
 
 The mansion on Colbert Avenue was re- 
 opened, and all Bergovania was startled into 
 curious delight by cards, the next week, for 
 a reception by Mr. and Mrs. David E. Win- 
 ston. 
 
 It was a brilliant reception. All Ber- 
 govania was there to find its fairest beauty, 
 hopelessly and helplessly eclipsed by the 
 sweeter, fairer and rarer beauty of the peer- 
 less bride. 
 
 David would have been very proud of his 
 queen had he not been so soberly happy.
 
 36U DAVID AND ABIGAIL. 
 
 And Abigail, the songs that so rapturously 
 thrilled all who heard her sing, with a sur- 
 prising gladness, were but a sweet con- 
 cordance of the joy that was filling her own, 
 as she sang. 
 
 "And now, darling," he said, as he led her 
 back to the parlor, after seeing the last of 
 their guests to the door, " if you are not too 
 tired, one more song a song for me." 
 
 "I am never too tired to sing for you," 
 she answered sweetly, and taking her place 
 at the piano, she sang one of her most 
 tender, touching songs. 
 
 " Ah, that is very sweet ! You must have 
 caught it in a dream from the angels," he 
 said, stooping and raising her to his arms 
 and softly kissing her. 
 
 And with that music thrilling his soul, 
 and that loving kiss melting her heart, I 
 will leave them, David and Abigail, tried by 
 suffering and purified, refined and exalted 
 by the ordeal. B. F. SAWYER. 
 
 Bergovania, 1894. 
 
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