LflNTR 
 
 IN THE 
 
 o
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 

 
 
 
 t
 
 77. 
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH.
 
 By the same Author. 
 
 A NEWPORT AQUARELLE. 
 
 a Socirtg Jffotolrtte. 
 i6mo. Cloth. Price $1.00. 
 
 THE 
 
 SAN ROSARIO RANCH. 
 
 & TSoM. 
 
 i6mo. Cloth. Price $1.25. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 BOSTON.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 Homance, 
 
 BY MAUD HOWE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A NEWPORT AQUARELLE" AND "THE SAN 
 ROSARIO RANCH." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 1886.
 
 Copyright, 1886, 
 BY ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
 
 TO 
 
 THOSE DEAR SOUTHERN FRIENDS 
 
 Whose unfailing kindness and hospitality made the half 
 year passed in New Orleans one of the pleasantest of 
 my life, I dedicate this Romance in a loving and 
 grateful remembrance. 
 
 1592793
 
 Before the beginning of years 
 
 There came to the making of man 
 
 Time with a gift of tears; 
 Grief, with a glass that ran; 
 
 And the high gods took in hand 
 
 Fire, and the falling of tears, 
 And a measure of sliding sand 
 
 From under the feet of the years ; 
 And wrought with weeping and laughter, 
 
 And fashioned with ~ loathing and love, 
 With life before and after, 
 
 And death beneath and above, 
 For a day and a night and a morrow, 
 
 That his strength might endure for a span, 
 With travail and heavy sorrow, 
 
 The holy spirit of man. 
 
 Eyesight and speech they wrought 
 
 For the veils of the soul therein, 
 A time for labor and thought, 
 
 A time to serve and to sin; 
 They gave him light in his ways, 
 
 And love, and a space for delight, 
 And beauty, and length of days, 
 
 And night, and sleep in the night. 
 His speech is a burning fire ; 
 
 With his lips he travaileth; 
 In his heart is a blind desire, 
 
 In his eyes foreknowledge of death; 
 He weaves, and is clothed with derision; 
 
 Sows, and he shall not reap ; 
 His life is a watch or a vision 
 
 Between a sleep and a sleep. 
 
 ATALANTA IN CALYDON : SWINBURNB.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE time, a December afternoon within the 
 memory of a child of ten ; the place, Jackson 
 Square, better known to history as the old Place 
 d'Armes, the centre of all that is most interest 
 ing in the French quarter of New Orleans. 
 
 The bronze effigy of the hero whose name the 
 square now bears is surrounded by a group of 
 belated rose-bushes full of a sober wintry bloom. 
 Outside of these runs the shell-strewn path, daz 
 zling white, and harsh to tread upon. The flow 
 ers are all dead, save the hardy northern roses, 
 but the orange-trees are heavy with their golden 
 fruit. A group of black-skinned children are 
 playing at leap-frog, and their young voices 
 sound cheerfully in the ears of Philip Rondelet 
 as he sits at the window of his modest apartment 
 high up in one of the famous Pontalba buildings. 
 Two sides of the square are flanked by long 
 brick houses of a somewhat imposing character, 
 alike in all particulars to the very monogram of
 
 8 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 their owner, wrought in fine ironwork above the 
 central windows, where the fagade rises to a high 
 peak. The lower floors are now occupied by 
 shops of a more or less unsavory aspect, for fash 
 ion, which once was at its height in Jackson 
 Square, has flown to a newer and less attractive 
 part of the city. Among the tenants of the fine 
 old Pontalba buildings there are few to-day who 
 claim any connection with polite society. Ron- 
 delet might have been classed with the excep- 
 tionals in this respect, as he should be in many 
 others. He certainly was exceptional in his ap 
 pearance, and no less so in his tastes, if we may 
 judge by the glimpse we catch of him sitting in 
 his small study under the leads, staring dreamily 
 out into the square below. There were very few 
 articles of furniture in the room, and the floor 
 lacked a carpet. A third of the space, that part 
 where the sun lay longest, was devoted to a minia 
 ture garden, where the flowers bore all the marks 
 of a careful and loving hand. Rare and splendid 
 orchids hung from the wall, and a superb oriental 
 flower, looking like a vast vegetable butterfly, 
 bloomed serenely forth from the neck of a broken 
 wine-bottle. A row of Japanese dwarf-oaks 
 made a sombre background for a vivid staff of 
 Mexican cactus-flowers. In the midst of all 
 this tropical bloom stood a large aviary, where 
 a dozen birds twittered and trilled and dipped
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 9 
 
 their dainty wings in a tiny fountain playing in 
 the centre of the cage. A bare deal table, a 
 lounge which had lost its cover, a worn horse 
 hair armchair, and a set of unpainted pine 
 shelves laden with books, completed the contents 
 of the apartment, with one notable exception. 
 On the mouldy, unpapered wall hung an un- 
 framed picture representing the head and shoul 
 ders of a man. At the first glance it might have 
 passed for an ancient copy or original study of a 
 head of Christ. On closer examination it was 
 seen to be only the portrait of a man whose feat 
 ures bore the stamp of the highest intellectual 
 beauty, a long, delicate face, with a broad, un 
 ruffled forehead, large eyes of that indefinable 
 gray-blue tint which neither color describes, a 
 thin, delicate nose, and a mouth of rare beauty 
 and sensitiveness. The hair and beard, of a 
 golden brown, fell about the shoulders, and below, 
 folded upon the breast, were the white, nervous 
 hands, with a delicate blue tracery of veins. If 
 any one unsatisfied with this examination should 
 have looked more closely at the picture, he would 
 have been able to make out this inscription : 
 " Philip Rondelet, from his friend Hans Makart." 
 By the fading light of that short winter day let 
 us look into the face of the man who is still gaz 
 ing out into the sunlight slowly waning from the 
 square below. It is the same face as that in the
 
 10 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 picture ; Hans Makart, friend to Philip Rondelet, 
 having painted the man as he was, with that 
 superficial resemblance to the Master which at a 
 second glance was almost lost. The beauty, the 
 gentleness, the love, are all there ; but the power 
 which raises these elements to achieve the salva 
 tion of man is lacking. 
 
 It is already dark on the stairway, though the 
 last sunbeam is resting for a moment on the 
 golden cross of the cathedral over the way. A 
 sound of stumbling in the passage causes Ron 
 delet to glance rather nervously towards the 
 door. He is not in the mood for visitors, if we 
 may judge from the impatient sigh which escapes 
 him. The sound of voices in altercation reaches 
 him, a silence follows, and from an inner door 
 his black servant enters the apartment. 
 
 "Well, Hero?" 
 
 " A gentleman to speak with you, sar." 
 
 " Say that I am not at home." 
 
 " I did, Marse Philip ; but he says he knows 
 yer are." 
 
 "Tell the gentleman that you have searched 
 the extensive apartment, and that I positively am 
 not to be found." 
 
 " Very good, sar." 
 
 Hero disappeared. Rondelet listened. There 
 was the sound of a dispute, then a scuffle in the 
 passage, a noise as of a person falling heavily
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. II 
 
 against the wall, an exclamation in Hero's voice ; 
 and the door was thrown violently open, a stran 
 ger stood upon the threshold bowing civilly, hat 
 in hand. 
 
 " Dr. Rondelet ? " 
 
 " Rondelet is my name, sir." 
 
 " I have forced myself into your presence, in 
 spite of your servant's refusal of admittance, 
 because I must speak with you on a matter of 
 the utmost importance." 
 
 Rondelet bowed and remained silent. His 
 visitor continued, 
 
 " You are a physician ? " 
 
 " I have my degree as doctor of medicine, but 
 I am not a practising physician." 
 
 " I was told that, Doctor, by Mr. Robert Feu- 
 ardent, at whose instance I have come to ask 
 your services in a matter of the strictest confi 
 dence." 
 
 The two men had remained standing. At the 
 mention of Feuardent's name, Rondelet mo 
 tioned his visitor to his solitary arm-chair and 
 took his seat upon the coverless sofa. 
 
 " Feuardent assured us of your great skill, 
 especially in a case of this description." 
 
 " Surgical ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " A wound ? " 
 
 " It is feared a fatal one."
 
 12 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " It is an affair ? " 
 
 "Of honor." 
 
 " It would be wiser to seek some one of the 
 established physicians here. I have not as yet 
 undertaken any practice since my return from 
 Paris. I am almost a stranger in my native 
 city." 
 
 " It is for this reason that you would not be 
 suspected of any connection with the affair, 
 should it come out." 
 
 " There is danger, then, of a thorough inves 
 tigation ? " 
 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " I do not like the business. Besides, I don't 
 see how I can go. I have an engagement at six 
 o'clock which I cannot break." 
 
 " A dinner ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " At Mrs. Darius Harden's ? " 
 
 Rondelet looked somewhat annoyed at this 
 cross-questioning, but nodded assent. 
 
 " Feuardent was to have been of the party. 
 I am to carry his excuses. It is now half past 
 five. At exactly a quarter past six I shall call 
 for you at the Hardens'. A physician is al 
 ways liable to be called away, and you will 
 be absolved of all blame if you only put in an 
 appearance at six." 
 
 The visitor rose, and Rondelet noticed for the
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 13 
 
 first time that he wore evening-dress. His 
 linen was crushed and tumbled, and as he but 
 toned his over-coat closer across his breast, the 
 doctor's eye caught a dark-red stain on the shirt. 
 
 " The affair took place this morning ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I drove out from the ball." 
 
 The man was going. Rondelet made a strug 
 gle to free himself from this mystery into which 
 he was being forced against his will. 
 
 " Monsieur, neither you nor Robert Feuardent 
 have the right to ask this thing of me. Your 
 name I do not even know. I refuse to be acces 
 sory to this affair. You must have had some 
 other practitioner upon the field." 
 
 " A mere boy, who has lost his nerve and 
 insists upon a consultation with some one less 
 unskilled and timid than himself." 
 
 Philip flushed, and his visitor, with a formal 
 bow, vanished. 
 
 " Till a quarter past six," he called from the 
 lower hall. 
 
 The two men had begun their conversation in 
 English, but had quickly lapsed into French, 
 after the manner of their kind under all strong 
 excitements. 
 
 To these people, with whom the two lan 
 guages are spoken indifferently from the cradle, 
 the Latin tongue is the natural expression of all 
 strong emotions.
 
 14 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 Mechanically Rondelet changed his dress; and 
 as he was about to go forth, he paused irresolute, 
 unlocked a drawer beneath the bookshelves, 
 and took out a case of surgical instruments. 
 The dust was thick upon the box. He touched 
 the spring, to make sure that everything was in 
 its place ; and at the sight of the shining steel 
 the old repugnance came over him with stronger 
 force than ever. He closed the box with a 
 quick movement of disgust, and threw it back 
 into the drawer. At that moment the stran 
 ger's words echoed in his ear : " Some one less 
 timid than himself." That decided him. He 
 slipped the instruments into the pocket of his 
 over-coat and ran lightly down stairs into the 
 street. It was very cold; the'wind spitefully 
 wrenched open the garments of the few people 
 who were abroad, and rattled the great iron 
 gates of the ancient court-house. It had come 
 from the northern ice-fields, and gloried that 
 the South could not rob it of all its fierce pain. 
 Enough was left to pinch the faces of the poor 
 folk, wretchedly housed for such weather, and 
 to make the rich wish regretfully that their fire 
 places were more in accordance with Northern 
 notions. At Mr. Darius Harden's comfortable 
 house on Esplanade Street, however, there was 
 little needed to complete the air of warmth and 
 cheer.
 
 AT ALA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 15 
 
 The large drawing-room was lighted comfort 
 ably, though not brilliantly. The guests already 
 assembled had drawn into a semicircle before 
 the fire, and were listening to Mrs. Harden's 
 last good story, when the door opened, and 
 Philip Rondelet entered. 
 
 " Forgive me if I am late, kind hostess," he 
 said ; " and," he added, looking over Mrs. Har 
 den's shoulder, " tell me, while she is not looking, 
 who that young girl in white is. Do I know 
 her ? " 
 
 " No ; it is Miss Margaret Ruysdale, a stran 
 ger from the North, here for the winter with 
 an invalid papa, the gentleman with one arm. 
 I will present you to her, as you are to take 
 her in to dinner. Miss Ruysdale, Mr. Philip 
 Rondelet." 
 
 The young man made a deep obeisance, and 
 the girl bowed simply to him, with nothing of 
 the drooping of the lids or sudden uplooking 
 into his eyes which he had often noticed in his 
 introductions to young women in society. This 
 Margaret Ruysdale from the North looked at 
 him as quietly and civilly as she would have 
 looked into the face of his grandmother. 
 
 " I have seen you before, Mr. should I not 
 say Dr. Rondelet ? " 
 
 " I hardly know, mademoiselle ; this is the 
 second time to-day I have been so called. I
 
 1 6 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 had thought that I had left my title, along with 
 my profession, on the other side." 
 
 " In Paris ; it was there I saw you." 
 
 " In Paris ? " Rondelet smiled, his whole 
 face lighting up with a look of unspeakable 
 pleasure. It was as if a lover had suddenly 
 heard the name of his absent mistress. 
 
 " Yes ; ah, how you miss it ! I feel it in your 
 voice," said Miss Ruysdale, her own voice 
 growing, in sympathy, a trifle less like the mur 
 mur of cool running water than at first. 
 
 " Miss it ? Ye gods, how I miss it ! I suffer 
 for it. Where did you see me ? I never can 
 have seen you ; I should not have forgotten 
 your face." 
 
 " It was at the hospital, where I went once 
 to make the portrait of a dying child for its 
 mother. You took care of the little fellow 
 Andre ; don't you remember him, the son of 
 your concierge ? " 
 
 "To be sure, poor little soul! How bravely 
 he bore it all ! It was better that he died ; he 
 could never have walked again. You, then, 
 mademoiselle, are the young art student who 
 paid " 
 
 Miss Ruysdale interrupted him, 
 
 " Yes, yes, I was his friend. How long is it 
 since you left Paris ? " 
 
 "A month, a year, a cycle, I cannot say.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 1 7 
 
 It seemed very long ago this morning ; but you 
 have brought it back to me so vividly, it might 
 have been yesterday. Have you neglected your 
 profession as I have mine ? You were modelling 
 in those days, were you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am a sculptor, and am always at work." 
 
 Looking down, Rondelet noticed that her 
 small, bare hands, lying loosely clasped, were 
 unusually firm-looking for those of so young a 
 person. Margaret Ruysdale, sculptor, could 
 hardly have more than attained her first score of 
 years. He was ten years her senior, and since 
 his last birthday had known the pain of finding 
 himself no longer in the twenties. His feet were 
 still hesitating what life-path to tread, and this 
 slim girl quietly claimed the profession which 
 had counted among its followers some of the 
 greatest men the world has known. Her asser 
 tion had been made very simply and without 
 assumption. She was a sculptor, and used 
 as best she could the tools of Phidias and 
 Angelo. 
 
 " I am to take you in to dinner," said Ronde 
 let, as a general move was made in the direction 
 of the dining-room. 
 
 " I am very glad," answered Margaret Ruys 
 dale, sculptor, laying her small white' hand upon 
 his arm with the air of a comrade. She had put 
 aside all coquetry, if she had ever possessed it,
 
 1 8 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 which to Philip Rondelet seemed very doubtful ; 
 and yet nothing could be more feminine than her 
 face and figure, her well-modelled white gown 
 and appropriate ornaments of yellow gold. 
 
 " Tell me, is Mr. Robert Feuardent among 
 the guests ? I heard I was to meet him to 
 night." 
 
 Robert Feuardent ! Rondelet started at the 
 name and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 
 half-past six. At that moment the door-bell 
 was violently rung, and immediately afterwards 
 a servant whispered a message in Mrs. Harden's 
 ear. 
 
 " Mr. Rondelet, a messenger has come for you, 
 summoning you to a sick person ; can you not 
 send him for some other physician ? " 
 
 Philip set down untasted the glass of wine 
 he had raised to his lips, and said, " Tell the 
 person that it is not possible for me to leave 
 at present. He should summon another phy 
 sician. Dr. N lives half a block from here." 
 
 In two minutes the man returned. " The 
 gentleman says, sir, that he can wait, but that 
 you will hardly like to keep a lady waiting in 
 the carnage on such a night as this." 
 
 " Mrs. Harden, you must excuse me. Made 
 moiselle, I cannot express to you my regrets at 
 being forced to lose the pleasure of knowing you 
 better."
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 19 
 
 " I am very sorry too ; but of course your pro 
 fessional duties must take precedence of every 
 thing else. Good night, and god-speed to you," 
 said Margaret Ruysdale, sculptor, with a smile, 
 the first she had given him. Her smiles were 
 not plentiful, and this one was to the unwilling 
 Samaritan like a draught of the rich strong wine 
 he had left untasted. 
 
 In the hall he found the young man, who was 
 still a stranger to him, looking wan and pale 
 beside the merry circle he had just quitted. 
 
 " You look ill yourself, my friend ; you are not 
 fit to be out on such a night." 
 
 The stranger made an impatient gesture of 
 dissent and threw open the door. A whiff of 
 the chill north wind burst in at the opening, and 
 fanned the flame in the chandelier, and blew into 
 the face of the girl from the North, as if it bore 
 her a greeting from her home. Outside, the 
 street was empty and silent. A chill dense rain 
 was beginning to fall, and the horses of the car 
 riage which awaited them were fretting and 
 tramping uneasily. " Get in as quickly as you 
 can," said the stranger ; " there is one person 
 on the back seat." 
 
 Rondelet placed himself beside the person on 
 the back seat, the young man sprang into the 
 carriage, and the horses leaped forward into a 
 gallop. As his eyes became accustomed to the
 
 20 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 darkness, the young physician observed that the 
 person beside him was a woman. 
 
 A lace scarf was thrown about her head and 
 shoulders, bare, save for this slight protection, 
 through which sparkled a profusion of jewels. 
 
 " Madame, have you no cloak ? " 
 
 There was no audible answer ; but the woman 
 shook her head, indifferent alike to the cold and 
 his solicitude. Rondelet wrapped her quietly 
 in his own coat and leaned back in the carriage, 
 absently watching the woman who sat beside him 
 with hands closely locked and wild eyes staring 
 out into the night.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IT was a relief to Philip Rondelet when the 
 carriage stopped after a half hour's drive, before 
 a small house of the meanest appearance. No 
 matter what might lie before him, it could not 
 be worse than that drive had been through the 
 absolute darkness of the night with these two 
 strange companions. 
 
 The young man had not spoken during the 
 whole drive, and the woman, save for sudden 
 bursts of passionate rage or grief, made no 
 sound. 
 
 They were evidently expected at the hut, for 
 the door was opened a few inches and a voice 
 asked, " Has he come ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, they are both here," answered the 
 stranger. " Quick! let us in, for God's sake ; we 
 have seen enough of this accursed night from 
 outside." As he spoke, the young man pushed 
 his way into the house, leaving the woman and 
 Rondelet to follow him. They found themselves 
 in a low bare room, where a fire burned smokily 
 on the hearth.
 
 22 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " Where is he ? " asked the woman in a low 
 voice, speaking for the first time. She was, 
 judging from her appearance, of Spanish ex 
 traction, and she spoke English with some hesi 
 tation. 
 
 " Above there," answered the man who had 
 opened the door, a young physician whom Ron- 
 delet recognized as an acquaintance. 
 
 " I will go to him," said the woman, moving 
 rapidly to the foot of the ladder leading to the 
 loft. 
 
 " Stand back, will you ? You can't see him 
 till the doctors say 't will do no harm. Have n't 
 you done him enough mischief already ? " 
 
 The young man spoke roughly, almost brutally, 
 to her, and pushed her from the ladder with no 
 gentle hand. The woman sank on the floor be 
 fore the fire without a word, and the young doc 
 tor led the way up the ladder after barricading 
 the door firmly. He had taken the only light in 
 the room, and Rondelet stopped for an instant 
 to throw an armful of brush upon the dying fire. 
 The woman thanked him with a mute gesture, 
 and he followed the two men to the upper room. 
 It was as desolate as the one he had just quitted. 
 On a couch in the centre of the attic lay the 
 man. On a table near the bed were surgical 
 appliances, a roll of bandages, an ewer of water, 
 and an empty pistol-case. On the floor, near the
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 23 
 
 door lay a heap of torn clothing which seemed 
 to have been cut from the bodv. Beside the 
 
 j 
 
 patient crouched a huge mastiff, with one paw 
 placed upon the bed. The creature's eyes were 
 fixed on his master's livid face ; he acknowl 
 edged their entrance by a quick side glance, but 
 never stirred from his post. The wounded man 
 was a stranger to Rondelet ; the latter saw only 
 that he was young, possibly twenty-four years 
 of age, and proceeded to examine the wound. 
 It was in the left breast, and a short examina 
 tion showed that it was fatal ; a few hours at 
 most were all of life left to him. Gently replac 
 ing the bandages, Rondelet smoothed the pillow 
 of the dying man and applied a strong restorative 
 to his lips. In a few minutes the patient's eyes 
 opened. He looked in Rondelet's face, and then 
 said faintly, " You are the other doctor ? Best 
 tell them it 's all up with me. I knew it from 
 the first. Therese, is she here ? Jean, you 
 promised." 
 
 His breath failed him ; the two physicians bent 
 over him. In a moment he was easier. 
 
 " Is it true, Rondelet ? Tell me, is there 
 no hope ? " It was Jean who spoke, in an 
 undertone. 
 
 " Not the slightest ; it will soon be over." 
 
 " It cannot hurt him to see that she-devil 
 downstairs ? "
 
 24 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " He is past hurting, poor fellow. If he wants 
 to see her it is her name he just spoke ? " 
 
 ' Yes." 
 
 " It can do no harm ; send the woman up." 
 
 " Mind you stay there, both of you ; do you 
 hear ? She is not to be trusted alone with him," 
 said the man who had been called Jean, as he 
 left the room. 
 
 " Therese," groaned the sufferer. 
 
 She was beside him as he spoke her name, 
 a splendid figure, thrilling with life and passion 
 ate love or anger, beautiful as a young tigress. 
 
 She fell upon her knees at the bedside ; and 
 lifting his helpless hand in both of hers, bathed 
 it with tears and kisses. Rondelet would have 
 left them alone together, but remembering the 
 warning, turned his face to the wall ; the younger 
 surgeon followed his example. But human sym 
 pathy was too strong for them ; a minute had not 
 passed before both men turned and gazed upon 
 those two figures, one so full of life, the other so 
 near to death. The woman was speaking rap 
 idly in a low voice, and the man was lying with 
 closed eyes. He turned his face from hers and 
 sighed wearily. 
 
 " What does it matter to me now, Therese ? 
 One thing you must hear and understand, 7 
 was to blame. Do you hear ? It is my last word, 
 I was to blame. The men will all tell you so ; I
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 2$ 
 
 forced him to fight against his will. He fired the 
 first time in the air. My pistol missed ; then I 
 seemed to lose my senses, and ran toward him 
 shooting as I went. He fired once to save him 
 self" 
 
 The woman's loosened hair, black as the dark 
 ness into which he was drifting, hung about him ; 
 she put her hand in his and carried it to his lips. 
 He pressed a faint kiss upon her pale fingers, and 
 then pushed the hand away ; it was his last ac 
 tion. Consciousness then left him, never to re 
 turn; and twenty minutes later the crystal mirror 
 held before his lips remained unclouded, the mass 
 of wild dark hair heaped upon his bosom was 
 unstirred by the faintest breath. All was over. 
 Since that mute gesture of avoidance, that 
 putting aside of her clinging hands, the woman 
 had not moved ; not more still than she was the 
 dead form beside her. She had watched him 
 with untrembling eyelids, all intelligence had left 
 her face; it was as if her longing soul was cling 
 ing to the out-going spirit, even as her hands 
 clung to his helpless hands, which in the last 
 hour had pushed hers aside. 
 
 She might have striven to follow him on the 
 first stage of that dark journey, in vain; for 
 the color came back to her marble cheek, the ex 
 pression to her dark eyes. She leaned over him 
 as if to kiss his forehead for the last time ; but the
 
 26 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 jealous mastiff caught at her hand and bit the 
 small fingers till the blood started. She did not 
 seem to heed the pain, but the action was not 
 lost upon her. With a faint moan she sank upon 
 the floor, and lay there weeping and dishevelled, 
 while the mastiff took up the note of grief with 
 his low howl of pain. 
 
 Philip Rondelet, gentlest among men, took 
 pity on this broken creature, whom the other 
 men heeded as little as they did the dog, and got 
 her finally into the lower room. She was passive 
 in his hands, but sank again grovelling to the 
 earth, her glorious hair falling about her, her 
 rich dress and jewels lighting up the dark hovel. 
 Soon the young surgeon and Jean followed them. 
 The latter spoke to her less roughly than before, 
 but with a scornful pity scarcely less hard to 
 bear. At the sound of his voice the woman 
 arose, silent and patient. 
 
 " Therese, you must go back to the city with 
 the doctors. There is nothing more for either 
 them or you to do. Launce and I will stay with 
 him till they come to take him away. Remember, 
 you are to know nothing of this till you hear the 
 news from outside. It will be bad for you if you 
 let fall anything that you have seen." 
 
 She nodded silently. 
 
 " For his sake," he went on, " it must never 
 be known how and in what a cause he died.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 2? 
 
 His reputation is all that is left me to care for. 
 Remember." 
 
 " And the man who did this thing, is he to go 
 unharmed ?" 
 
 " He is wounded." 
 
 " Ah ! " with a savage gleam of triumph ; " but 
 not seriously ? " 
 
 " No, not seriously." 
 
 "But I swear " 
 
 " Silence ! The fault was yours, yours, yours. 
 Do you hear ? This man's blood is on your head, 
 and his murderer's guilt upon your soul. Now go, 
 and never let me see your accursed face again ! " 
 
 With a gesture of supreme contempt he turned 
 and left her. To Rondelet the young man said, 
 " Good-by ! I thank you for what you have done. 
 He was my brother, my only friend " 
 
 Rondelet wrung his outstretched hand. " Your 
 name. Tell me that before I go ? " 
 
 " No, it is better that you should not know it. 
 I hope that you will hear no more of this affair." 
 
 " And the name of the man who killed him ? " 
 
 " That I shall never tell." 
 
 The gray dawn was stealing on the sleeping 
 world as Rondelet turned his face from the house 
 of death. By the dim cold light he saw the 
 double row of mighty moss-grown oaks, tongue- 
 less witnesses of this and many another such an 
 affair of honor. The shrouded trees drooped
 
 28 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 beneath the heavy, rain-soaked moss like so 
 many forest giants clad in ashen winding-sheets. 
 When he reached Jackson Square, the first sun 
 beams were fingering the gold cross over the way. 
 What a night had passed since the last beam of 
 the evening sun had fallen on the same spot ! 
 
 The stairs were still dark ; at the top of the 
 first flight his foot encountered some slippery 
 substance, and he fell heavily forward, putting 
 out his arm to save himself. 
 
 When he reached his room he found that his 
 left arm was badly sprained. He would have no 
 use of it for several weeks, and would besides be 
 obliged to wear it, for some days at least, in a 
 sling. After binding it up as best he could, he 
 opened the door of his aviary, and his friendly 
 birds flew to greet him with merry roundelay. 
 In the farther corner of the cage he saw some 
 thing lying stiff and shining. Pax, his milk- 
 white dove, his nearest friend, had died in the 
 night
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 NEW ORLEANS is pre-eminent among the cities 
 of the New World for more than one reason. 
 Certain characteristics more European than 
 American are here found, and the mingling of 
 the ceremonious politeness of the French people 
 with the just and liberal spirit of the American 
 has brought about a code of manners superior 
 to that either of France or of our purely Ameri 
 can cities. Deference to women still obtains, 
 and the chivalrous attitude of men toward them 
 has not diminished, as in so many parts of our 
 country it has done, in proportion as laws, social 
 and municipal, leave less room for oppression 
 of what is so often called the " weaker sex." Is 
 the phrase a satire, and to-day is the balance of 
 power in the hands of men, or women? 
 
 For quaint houses no city in the United States 
 nay, I had almost said in the world, can 
 rival New Orleans. The dear queer, rickety little 
 one-story tenements, with rude red terra-cotta 
 tiles and wide eaves leaning over to the edge 
 of the narrow banquette (a " side-walk " is an un-
 
 30 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 known term in the Crescent City), and the high 
 dark Spanish buildings, with mysterious pas 
 sages leading to hidden courts, one hesitates 
 to say which are the most attractive. To Mar 
 garet Ruysdale, sculptor, from the North, whose 
 native New England town was anything but 
 picturesque, the choice of habitation had been 
 a difficult one. For days she had wandered 
 about the streets of the older portion of the city 
 looking at houses of all degrees. 
 
 One morning as she started on her search 
 she stopped suddenly before a small house which 
 she had passed perhaps a hundred times, and 
 had never seen before. It stood on a wide 
 thoroughfare, which boasted a green ribbon of 
 turf, running through its middle like a cool, ver 
 dant river bordered by two rows of trees. The 
 large, pretentious dwellings on either side of 
 the little house seemed to be anxious to elbow 
 their humbler neighbor out of sight. It stood 
 back a dozen feet from the street, and with an 
 effort at self-effacement hid its modest front 
 behind two straight tall magnolia-trees standing 
 on either side of the door. When one did at 
 last obtain a sight of the house, the only wonder 
 was that one had ever looked at anything else 
 in all the wide pleasant street. It was a very 
 low wooden building, of a dull, unaggressive tint 
 of pearl gray, a story and a half in height. A
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 31 
 
 piazza, ran across the front, with delicately carven 
 pillars and lattice-work. The narrow doorway 
 was flanked by quaint side-lights, through which 
 it was impossible to catch a glimpse of the in 
 terior. Overhead, two gable windows leaned 
 gravely over the piazza roof, strewn with leaves 
 fallen from the magnolias. It seemed an ideal 
 dwelling for a maiden, quiet, retired, and yet 
 linked with the busy life of the city, from which 
 it seemed to draw modestly back. Three days 
 later the Ruysdales were settled in the little 
 house, whose interior proved in every way as 
 attractive as Margaret had fancied it to be. 
 Beside the main building there was a large airy 
 room in the rear, which was soon converted into 
 a studio ; this was detached, and stood at some 
 distance from the house in a pleasant garden 
 shut, in from the thoroughfare in the rear by a 
 high iron fence of very beautiful workmanship. 
 Cunning artificers in iron New Orleans has known, 
 and his must have been a master-hand which 
 moulded the convolvulus vine and flowers 
 twisting about the sheaves of ripe corn in the 
 garden rail. And what a garden it was, with 
 its many tinted roses, one sort for every month 
 in the year, its thick bed of violets all abloom 
 in these first days of February ! 
 
 Two months have passed since General 
 Stuart Ruysdale and his daughter came to New
 
 32 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 Orleans, the former in search of health, the lat 
 ter to bear him company. Stuart Ruysdale was 
 not a general in rank ; but the loss of his strong 
 right arm in the war had won for him that 
 title with his fellow-townspeople. He had lost 
 more than his right arm in that terrible struggle, 
 he had lost his health and strength ; and he 
 remained for the rest of his days a broken, 
 disappointed man. 
 
 When at the breaking out of the Civil War he 
 had been given the commission of captain in a 
 volunteer regiment, Ruysdale had already made 
 some reputation as a sculptor. He had loved 
 his profession with all the passion of a fervent 
 artistic nature springing up in a community 
 where art exists only in its embryonic phase. 
 He had deemed it his mission to nourish that 
 love of the beautiful which is latent in the hearts 
 of men, and to develop sculpture, the greatest of 
 the arts, in his native country, from which he 
 held that all that is best must be evolved, and 
 into which it cannot be imported. 
 
 His good right arm had been smitten off, his 
 whole body was maimed and disabled, when, four 
 years later, he came back to Woodbridge at the 
 head of his broken regiment. In his deserted 
 studio he found the tools he could never use 
 again ; but in the bitterness of that hour he 
 made a resolve that the power within him should
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 33 
 
 not rest unrevealed, that another hand should 
 give shape to the creations of his brain. The 
 son for whose birth he prayed and looked should 
 be but a finer tool through which his genius 
 should animate the bronze and marble of his 
 native land. He had reckoned, as so many of 
 us do, without his host ; for no son was born to 
 him, only a small daughter, who blinked blindly 
 in his face and put out her wee hands to grasp 
 him on the day when her mother died, a month 
 after her birth. Stuart Ruysdale was a man with 
 an iron will. Fate had beaten him at every bout 
 so far, but yield he would not. Son or daughter, 
 his child should be a sculptor ; and thus it was 
 that the girl whom Philip Rondelet had met at 
 the house of Mrs. Darius Harden was vowed 
 from her birth a priestess of the plastic art. 
 From her babyhood she had been given wax 
 and clay to model ; and, to the passionate delight 
 of her father, the child showed an unusual apti 
 tude for the profession to which he had dedicated 
 her. Her education had been carried on entirely 
 to this end ; and at twenty, Margaret Ruysdale 
 had certainly produced uncommonly good work 
 for so young a sculptor. Her father's strong 
 conceptions, growing more delicate in passing 
 through the medium of her mind, were to the man 
 like the children of some dear dead child, dearer 
 to him than his own child had been, because of 
 3
 
 34 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 the suffering that had gone before. Margaret 
 loved her profession and her father, the only two 
 things given her to love, with all the strength of 
 her young heart. The two passions were so 
 blended that the serving of the one meant for 
 her the service of the other. There was none 
 of that strife between love and work which 
 vexes so many a woman's life, making the work 
 seem at times a sin, and the love too great a 
 sacrifice. 
 
 On a certain soft February afternoon, when 
 the air which stirred the roses outside the studio 
 door was cool and brilliantly pure, Margaret sat 
 at her work while her father, sitting near her, 
 read aloud. The girl had abandoned the bas- 
 relief she had been modelling, and was mould 
 ing a bird's nest, to the delight of a small negro 
 child seated at her feet. 
 
 " How many eggs, General ? " whispered Mar 
 garet. The child, a son of the cook, had been 
 baptized General Jackson. 
 
 " Three, missy," said the baby, holding up the 
 requisite number of fat black fingers. 
 
 " ' When Angelo heard of the proposed altera 
 tions in his plans/ are you paying attention, 
 Margaret ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa." (Sotto voce) " That 's the mother 
 bird, General." Inarticulate admiration from 
 General Jackson.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 35 
 
 " ' He left Florence in the greatest haste, and 
 repaired to Rome, where he solicited an inter 
 view with the Pope ' ' 
 
 " Where shall I put the mother bird ? " whis 
 pers Margaret. 
 
 "On de eggs," answers General Jackson, in 
 the same low voice. 
 
 " But that will hide the eggs," objects Margaret. 
 
 " Margaret, what are you whispering to that 
 child about ? Can't you send him away ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa. Be still, General, can't you ? " 
 very severely. 
 
 " ' He found the Holy Father much inclined 
 to coincide with his views, and the difficulties 
 would have been easily smoothed over had it not 
 been for the mischievous intriguing of a certain 
 cardinal ' " 
 
 " See, General, there 's the father bird." 
 
 " He must have a worm," insisted the child. 
 
 " I see there is no use in trying to interest 
 you in Michael Angelo to-day, Margaret. You 
 seem to find that black child vastly more 
 important." 
 
 " He is n't quite so remote, papa, and to-day 
 I am rather in a mood for the present ; and 
 General Jackson means the present, don't you, 
 General ? " 
 
 " Yes, missy." 
 
 Stuart Ruysdale put the book down, and with
 
 36 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 a half-impatient sigh came and stood beside the 
 two culprits. General Jackson looked rather 
 shy, and beat a hasty retreat under Margaret's 
 chair. The young sculptor added the worm to 
 the small bill of the father bird, and placed him 
 in an appropriate attitude by the edge of the 
 nest. Then she laughed. 
 
 " Why, you little stupid thing, the birds are 
 not out of the shells yet. What does the father 
 bird bring the worm for ? " 
 
 " For de mudder," answered the child promptly, 
 with a shrewd glance at General Ruysdale's sober 
 face. 
 
 " Is n't he bright, papa ? " 
 
 " I suppose so, my child ; but have you been 
 modelling playthings all day, when your Atalanta 
 is in such a condition ? " 
 
 Margaret rose, and standing on tiptoe, kissed 
 her father's careworn forehead, mutely asking 
 forgiveness for a neglected duty. 
 
 Both the generals soon left her ; and when 
 Philip Rondelet, now a frequent visitor at the 
 house, came into the studio half an hour later, 
 he found Margaret standing at the window with 
 her bird's nest in her hand, looking out into the 
 deepening afternoon sky. He stood watching 
 her a few minutes before he spoke. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, what troubles you ? You are 
 sad this afternoon."
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 37 
 
 " Ah ! is it you ? I am so glad you have 
 come. I am full of unrest to-day, and it always 
 does me good to see you in these moods," said 
 Margaret, giving him her hand, and forgetting 
 the trace of clay still clinging to it. " Forgive 
 my working woman's hands," she added, with 
 a blush. 
 
 " I have always noticed," answered Rondelet, 
 still holding the small firm fingers in his grasp 
 and examining them curiously, " that women who 
 use their hands have a curious false shame at 
 any trace of their work being detected. Coming 
 upon you at your modelling, how could I expect 
 to find your hands like Mrs. Darius Harden's 
 jewelled fingers, white and cared for, lying idly 
 in your lap ? " 
 
 " Yours are so white, I almost doubt if they 
 ever work." 
 
 Rondelet laughed rather uneasily, and changed 
 the conversation. 
 
 " You have not answered my question. Why 
 are you troubled and restless to-day ? " 
 
 "I do not know; I feel a sort of tumult in 
 my blood, almost a rebellion against exist 
 ence. And yet I am well and happy, if it is 
 happiness to be without a grief or a care." 
 
 " You live too much among your marbles ; 
 they chill you." 
 
 " But I am feverish, not chilled. I want to be
 
 38 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 young. My youth is slipping from me, and yet 
 my life is as old and cold as if I carried half 
 a century of years on my shoulders. Is it 
 my fate or my nature which compels me to put 
 all my life and love into this wet clay, which 
 absorbs more and more of me each day, and 
 puts me farther and farther from my kind ? I 
 want youth and sunlight and foolish gayety. 
 Take me somewhere where there is something 
 young ! " 
 
 She spoke passionately, and threw down her 
 little modelling tool with a gesture of aversion. 
 Rondelet, who had learned to know Margaret 
 Ruysdale very well, had never seen her in such 
 a humour as this; and for the first time since he 
 had met her he found it impossible to understand 
 her, facile as he was in taking the impress of her 
 thoughts and feelings. He looked at her, doubt 
 ful, embarrassed, not knowing what to say next ; 
 and in that moment of hesitation a shadow fell 
 between them, a third person had entered the 
 studio. Margaret was looking appealingly into 
 Philip's face. He had helped her so often with 
 his quick sympathy, could he not devise some 
 thing to soothe this new mood, incomprehensible 
 to herself as it was to him ? His delicate fair 
 face flushed painfully beneath her gaze, but he 
 had nothing to say. 
 
 The man who had just come in greeted Ron-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 39 
 
 delet and Margaret with a silent bow, and then 
 stood leaning against the door-post, looking at 
 the sculptor with inquiring eyes. Margaret 
 answered the unspoken question with a shake 
 of her head. 
 
 " No, I do not need your services as a model 
 to-day, Mr. Feuardent ; it is too late to begin to 
 work. Besides, I am very tired of work ; if you 
 could take a new role, now, and help me to play 
 a little." 
 
 " To play ? why, willingly ; that is the easiest 
 thing in the world for me. Take off your apron 
 and come ; we will go to the fete at the fair 
 grounds and amuse ourselves with the people. 
 Come, it is a glorious afternoon." 
 
 Margaret hastily unfastened and laid aside the 
 long straight blue apron which hid all the pretty 
 curves of her small elastic figure. 
 
 " Will they be young and happy and alive ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " We will make them so," answered Feuardent, 
 with a ringing laugh. " If you and I cannot 
 stir them up to-day, they must be cold people 
 indeed." 
 
 Margaret answered with a full peal of merri 
 ment, and danced away to the house, pausing a 
 moment to toss General Jackson in her strong 
 arms. 
 
 The two men left together in the studio pre-
 
 40 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 sented a striking contrast of types. Rondelet, 
 who was well over middle height, looked almost 
 short beside Robert Feuardent, whose great size 
 raised him above the heads of other men. So 
 perfect were his proportions that he always had 
 the effect of dwarfing other people rather than 
 of towering above them. He was a younger man 
 .than his companion, and could not have seen 
 more than twenty-five years. His head, which 
 he habitually held rather high, was small and 
 of a Greek mould, and was finely set upon the 
 broad shoulders by a round smooth throat, beau 
 tiful as a woman's. His complexion was of the 
 color of a late autumn peach which has hung 
 long upon the tree and acquired a bronze tinge, 
 through which the red shows with a splendid 
 warmth of color. Thick eyebrows, which looked 
 as if they might frown ominously, arched a pair 
 of eyes fearless, open, and with a certain savage 
 beauty, like those of some untamed creature of 
 the woods. His thick dark-brown hair was with 
 out curl, but looked full of life and electricity, as 
 did the small mustache which hid the upper lip. 
 When he laughed and showed his small, even, 
 white teeth, the impression of a wild, untamed 
 being was deepened ; it was such a hearty, un 
 conventional laugh, they were such firm, danger 
 ous-looking white teeth. Margaret Ruysdale had 
 told him once that his civilization was only a
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 41 
 
 sham ; that he only masqueraded in broadcloth, 
 and that his proper dress would be a suit of 
 skins. 
 
 To the young artist, accustomed to intercourse 
 with people of her own profession and way of 
 thought, this simple natural man, with few broad 
 traits of character and strong instincts and pre 
 judices, was a constant wonder and amusement. 
 She had understood him instinctively, as Joachim 
 might understand the simple instrument of the 
 Egyptian Fellaheen, two strings stretched over 
 a gourd. But to the peasant musician, the 
 Stradivarius of the master would be a thing 
 of mystery and awe. 
 
 So Margaret Ruysdale was to Robert Feuar- 
 dent a perfect enigma. Her delicate, complex 
 nature, fine and strong, impressed him very 
 much. He could not fail to admire her, but 
 neither could he understand her. 
 
 Day after day he had sat by and listened 
 while Margaret worked on her bas-relief and 
 conversed with his friend Philip Rondelet of 
 things as foreign to Robert Feuardent as art 
 is foreign to nature. 
 
 It was his turn to-day. Rondelet was left 
 outside, wondering and not understanding, and 
 he, Feuardent, had caught the spirit and the 
 meaning of Margaret's mood, as a dark moun 
 tain lake reflects the image of the maiden moon.
 
 42 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 When Robert was sure that Margaret was out 
 of ear-shot, he said in a low voice, 
 
 " I say, Philip, what does Atalanta mean, any 
 how?" 
 
 The young physician smiled, and answered, in 
 a tone not quite free from irony, 
 
 "My dear fellow, that's a difficult question. 
 It has puzzled wiser people than you or me. 
 The story goes that many a poor fellow lost his 
 head, in more ways than one, in trying to find 
 out what Atalanta did mean. It's a riddle. 
 Give it up that 's my advice." 
 
 " I never was good at riddles," Robert an 
 swered gravely, not without a suspicion that his 
 friend was laughing at him. Philip saw this in 
 his face ; and repenting his first impulse to 
 chaff his less erudite friend, was about to en 
 lighten him on the subject of Atalanta' s identity, 
 when Robert cried out, " Good-by, Rondelet, I 
 see she is ready ; " and waving his hand to Philip, 
 he ran to meet Margaret, who at that moment 
 appeared on the gallery. Without a word of 
 farewell, Margaret turned, and in a joyous mood 
 sprang down the garden path, with Robert at 
 her side. The iron wicket shut behind them 
 with a sharp snap, and Rondelet was left alone. 
 As he walked toward the house, he heard a shrill 
 cry of grief. General Jackson had broken his 
 bird's nest, and was shrieking inconsolably.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 43 
 
 " Bring it here, my boy ; I will mend it for 
 you," said Philip. Taking up a morsel of wet 
 clay, he repaired the toy ; and warning the child 
 not to play with it till the sun had hardened it, 
 he turned into the house to seek for General 
 Ruysdale.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 RONDELET found General Ruysdale sitting on 
 the shaded porch, watching a passing procession. 
 The elder man greeted him pleasantly, saying, 
 
 "Ah, Rondelet, I was hoping to see you to 
 day ! Do you know we have been in this house 
 just sixty days, and in that time seventy-nine 
 processions have passed before this door ? " 
 
 " Yes, we are fond of parades here." 
 
 "It is such an extravagance. How much 
 better to expend the money devoted to paying 
 those marching musicians in improving the city 
 and carrying on the public charitable institu 
 tions, which seem to depend mainly upon private 
 subscription." 
 
 " I am not sure about that," Rondelet ob 
 jected. "It is a great gain to keep the people 
 amused and good-natured. What should we be 
 without our gayety and good-humor ? Remem 
 ber how little we have, poverty-stricken as we 
 are. As to the charities, I hold that the rich 
 and poor are brought in nearer and closer sym 
 pathy when they are directly dependent upon
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 45 
 
 each other. It makes the wealthy realize their 
 duty to the poor, and the poor look less bitterly 
 upon a rich class that directly confers benefits 
 upon them. State charities are such cold, im 
 personal things. You rich people at the North 
 pay taxes to support your sick and blind because 
 your State forces you to do it, and you avoid 
 them as much as you can." 
 
 The New Englander, high in office over the 
 charities of his native town, stared at the speaker, 
 and made an effort to protest against these he 
 retical remarks. But Rondelet continued, 
 
 " You think us behind the world in every 
 way, behind the North particularly. Well, per 
 haps we are ; but the social atmosphere which 
 your condition of things has brought about is 
 not without its drawbacks. The aristocracy of 
 money, which rules your society with a golden 
 rod, is not, to my mind, a noble or great phase 
 of human existence. -You are now suffering 
 from a very plethora of money, a terrible indi 
 gestion from too much high living, while we are 
 growing day by day weaker and weaker from 
 inanition ; and yet you would have us call you 
 brothers ! Our country is one now, and I hope 
 and believe will ever remain so ; but the coun 
 try cannot march as it should in the progress of 
 nations while one foot is bare, lame, and blis 
 tered. It is strange that you forget us so ; our
 
 46 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 interests are bound up with yours, there is no 
 separating them. That has been proved, and 
 the proof was a grave one, as you who shed 
 your blood, as I who lost my patrimony in the 
 awful proving, know full well." 
 
 " But you brought it on yourselves, after all. 
 As you made your bed, so must you lie on it. 
 Can a parent love the child that has turned and 
 struck at her life, as she does the one that gave 
 his own to defend it ? " 
 
 " Do you remember the parable of the prodigal 
 son ? Methinks that the husks have been fed 
 to us too long, and that, despite the well-fed 
 elder brother, the fatted calf should be slain. 
 But, General, I did not come to talk politics with 
 you, sir, but to take my revenge for my defeat of 
 last evening. Are you in the mood for a game 
 of chess?" 
 
 It was as well that Rondelet had turned the 
 conversation, as it might soon have become a 
 heated one. The bitterness which had crept 
 into his voice was most unusual with him. In 
 all his intercourse with the old officer, he had 
 never shown the feeling he had just expressed. 
 It is not improbable that this state of mind was 
 produced by what had gone before in the studio. 
 The General was too well-bred a man not to 
 abandon the topic, though it cost him something 
 of a struggle to do so. He was one of those
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 47 
 
 natural fighters, to whom a contest of words is 
 next best to that of arms. 
 
 " I will play a game of chess with pleasure," 
 he answered. "There is one thing I wish to 
 speak to you about first, Rondelet ; it is about 
 the killing of young Fernand Thoron. Have you 
 heard of any new developments in the case ? " 
 
 The General watched the young physician 
 keenly as he spoke. Philip's color changed as 
 he answered, in a low, constrained voice, 
 
 " No, I have heard nothing." 
 
 " They were talking about it at the club last 
 night ; no one told you of that ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "I think you ought to know," said the General, 
 speaking slowly and impressively, "what was 
 said whispered, rather, for I do not know how 
 the rumor started, or even how it reached my 
 ears ; but it was suggested by some one that 
 you knew something about that affair." 
 
 It had come at last, the vague report of that 
 wild night, nearly two months ago. He straight 
 ened himself where he stood, as if to brace him 
 self against another shock. But the General 
 said nothing more, and evidently waited for an 
 answer. It came slowly. 
 
 " I never to my knowledge saw the man you 
 speak of. I remember hearing of his sudden 
 death at the time, and that a theory of suicide
 
 48 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 was very generally accepted. Did you know 
 him? What did he look like?" 
 
 " I had seen him once only. He was a fine- 
 looking fellow and quite young. Margaret had 
 met him, and he brought his mastiff, Launce, a 
 fine dog, for her to model in her Atalanta. She 
 was much shocked to hear of his death three 
 days after." 
 
 " His mastiff Launce, a fine dog," these words 
 sounded dimly in Rondelet's ears. They settled 
 the question which had so long tormented him 
 as to the identity of Fernand Thoron and the 
 youth he had seen die in the hut near the duel 
 ling ground. He had avoided seeking the solu 
 tion of the mystery, remembering Jean's words, 
 " It is better for you that you should not know;" 
 but now the knowledge was forced upon him, 
 and with it a sense of the suspicion with which 
 he was regarded. The General's eyes were still 
 fixed upon Rondelet inquiringly, but he had 
 nothing more to say. 
 
 " Shall we have our game ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said the General, placing the men 
 upon the board ; and the battle began. 
 
 At the moment when the two gentlemen were 
 arranging their chessmen, Margaret and Robert 
 entered the Fair Grounds. The scene that met 
 their eyes was an animated one. A vast crowd 
 of gayly dressed people filled the large enclosure,
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 49 
 
 where numbers of booths and ornamented tents 
 flaunted their banners and streamers in the 
 evening air. Here a band of fortune-tellers 
 professed to predict the future of young men 
 and maidens for a small compensation. These 
 gypsy folk had established themselves at the 
 foot of a giant live-oak, whose wide-spreading 
 arms served to shelter them from the rays of 
 the afternoon sun. 
 
 A girl tricked out with tinsel and mock jewels 
 beckoned to Margaret and Robert, and with a 
 bold smile dropped them a courtesy and invited 
 them to approach and have their fortune told ; 
 but the two passed on unheeding. A wonderful 
 glittering palace, with a retinue of beasts, next 
 attracted their attention, a pair of elephants, 
 followed by twin ostriches, with dolphins, giraffes, 
 deer, winged horses, goats, unicorns, half the 
 animals of history and fable, slowly gyrating to 
 the strains of some concealed music. 
 
 " Will you ride in the great show ? Only a 
 nickel apiece ! " cried the showman in a voice 
 made harsh by long vociferation. The pair 
 stood back and watched the riders who bestrode 
 the strange creatures. When the number of 
 travellers was complete, the music pealed forth 
 in quicker time, and the whole Noah's ark 
 seemed to take unto itself wings, and flew round 
 and round at a bewildering pace. Beyond the 
 4
 
 50 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 revolving palace a crowd of people stood watch 
 ing the brightening sky. A small black box 
 suddenly appeared, whirling upwards at a great 
 speed ; then came an explosion ; and a gigantic 
 uncouth monster, idol or demon, floated slowly 
 earthward, assuming successive clumsy attitudes 
 in its descent, now bowing gravely, again doub 
 ling itself up, as in a very paroxysm of infernal 
 laughter at the crowd beneath, who screamed 
 and applauded with shout and halloo. 
 
 " It is too ugly," cried Robert ; " its horrid 
 shadow must not fall on you. Away ! away ! " 
 
 " Look again ! " said Margaret ; " see the pal 
 ette of the cloud-painter." 
 
 This time the square black box had thrown 
 out a little group of colors, to the number of 
 seven. These grew and grew, till they seemed 
 like so many tinted clouds floating westward 
 toward the sunset, which now began to flame 
 forth from the crystal sky. 
 
 "To the dancers !" cried Robert. " Come while 
 there is yet time ; it will soon be night." And 
 taking the hand of his companion, he hurried her 
 toward a spot where a group of people were 
 weaving the intricate patterns of a contra-dance. 
 Thrusting aside the crowd of on-lookers, he 
 quickly found a place for himself and his partner, 
 and they struck into the measure with a frank 
 delight which animated the dancers as a mag-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 51 
 
 netic shock electrifies a whole circle of linked 
 human beings. They hardly recognized each 
 other, this quiet, hard-working maiden, and this 
 melancholy, brooding man, who had for weeks 
 met and parted every day, each speaking his 
 own language and ignorant of the other's as of a 
 foreign tongue. At last they understood each 
 other, and the contagious gayety of the pair set 
 the whole line of dancing folk into a sympathetic 
 merriment. The master of ceremonies was in 
 despair as the couples, abandoning the set fig 
 ures, which he called aloud in a persuasive voice, 
 followed the new-comers through quaint and in 
 tricate measures never trod before. It seemed 
 as if Terpsichore had abandoned her sex and was 
 masquerading in the form of this tall fellow, who 
 looked the very incarnation of the dance as he 
 led the merry throng through march and counter 
 march, flourish, promenade, galop, and at last the 
 waltz, which Robert started, catching his lithe, 
 tireless partner in his arms and whirling her to 
 its wavy measures. His dark face was flushed 
 with the passion of the dance, and faster and 
 faster he whirled his light burden through the 
 swaying maze of men and maids. " Enough, 
 enough!" cried a youth, and the cry was repeated; 
 it seemed as if they could not leave the mad 
 whirl into which he had led them without the 
 signal from this self-appointed master of the
 
 52 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 revels. He heeded not the exclamations of 
 the crowd ; but suddenly conscious of the trem 
 ulous throbbing of the heart beating so near 
 to his, he halted in the midst of the dreamy 
 exaltation. 
 
 " You will die if we do not stop," he said, look 
 ing at Margaret's dilated eyes and panting 
 breast. 
 
 " Such a dance is worth a life," she answered ; 
 and laughed, and panted for her lost breath. He 
 drew her from the crowd and placed her on a 
 seat beneath an arbor shaded by a group of 
 heavy-scented magnolia-trees. She drew her 
 breath with labored gasps, growing less and less 
 frequent, and he fanned her with a branch of 
 green leaves. 
 
 " Have I found you what you needed ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes ; it was what I dreamed of." 
 
 "I have made you feel young and happy and 
 alive ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " When you need youth and happiness and 
 life again, will you send for me ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Always ? " 
 
 " Always ? Don't talk about anything so seri 
 ous ! Always means to-morrow, next week, next 
 year, the future, and that most terrible thought 
 the mind can conceive, Eternity ! Let me
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 53 
 
 have to-day to myself undisturbed, will you 
 not ? " 
 
 "Ay." 
 
 Sitting in the arbor, looking westward, they 
 watched the fading sky grow faint and color 
 less, and then deepen with the beauty of the 
 night, purple, gold-flecked. From the dark mag' 
 nolia overhead the mocking-bird trilled forth his 
 matchless thread of song, linking the gems of 
 heaven with the star flowers of earth. The per 
 fume of the flowers was full of a subtile intoxica 
 tion ; and under the fitful light of the many-colored 
 lanterns hanging from the branches like vast lu 
 minous fruits, pairs of men and women appeared 
 and disappeared, flitting down the dim rose- 
 bordered alleys. Strangers yesterday, strangers 
 again perhaps to-morrow, but for that hour lov 
 ers, by the power of the night, the odor of the 
 flowers, by the note of the mocking-bird, and 
 beneath all these by the magic melody of the 
 Spring throbbing in the breasts of men, kindling 
 in the eyes of girls, gushing from the song-bird's 
 throat, swimming from the hearts of flowers, 
 Spring and Love, Love and Spring! 
 
 The music of a hidden orchestra took up the 
 great hymn, and the viols wailed forth the pas 
 sion of that noblest of love-songs, " Adelaida," 
 whose measures the deaf Beethoven never 
 heard.
 
 54 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 The throng grew greater ; dark-eyed girls in 
 soft-hued garments of state trod the sanded 
 paths with satin-shod feet : the wedding-guests 
 had come from a church near by. Now that the 
 bride no longer needed their gentle ministrations, 
 the eight fair bridesmaidens joined the fete. They 
 walked sedately two by two, fresh as the flowers 
 of the field which they typified. This yellow 
 dandelion, nodding gayly as she passes, has the 
 dark eyes and rounded limbs of the South ; but 
 her cheeks are red with the color of the northern 
 rose. She laughs ; and catching sight of Robert, 
 greets him with a, 
 
 " Bon soir, Robert le diable." 
 
 " She is a working-woman, as you call your 
 self," he whispers ; " she does the work and earns 
 the salary of a man." 
 
 A blue field-flower passes, graceful, slight, 
 with lips that curl a little scornfully sometimes ; 
 but to-night they smile as she hums the melody 
 of the song. 
 
 " That young girl is a musician, and earns her 
 bread too, though she is so young." 
 
 A scarlet poppy follows. She has a fine, 
 sensitive face, red-bronze hair, and determined 
 brown eyes. 
 
 " Her father lost his fortune and his life at the 
 close of the war. She it is who has educated her 
 sisters and kept her brothers to their duty. Her
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 55 
 
 fingers are never idle ; besides clothing her many 
 sisters, she finds time to fashion garments for 
 some gentlewomen poorer than she, and not 
 less proud." 
 
 "That morning-glory is well fitted to typify 
 the flower she wears," said Margaret. 
 
 " Yes ; she is to be the maiden queen of our 
 carnival revels." 
 
 " She is very beautiful, but she looks almost 
 too slight to bear the burden even of a crown 
 of pleasure." 
 
 " You will see her carry her honors regally, and 
 yet modestly." 
 
 The living chain of flowers linked together 
 two by two passed gayly by, and were soon lost 
 in the surging crowd of holiday folk. The fete 
 was at its height, and our two pilgrims of pleas 
 ure felt this hour to be the fairest of the day as 
 they sat a little withdrawn from the current of 
 passing people, and yet not out of sympathy with 
 them. Robert, leaning back, with the soft leaves 
 of the jessamine-vine touching his cheek, gave a 
 sigh of pleasure, and after a short pause spoke 
 again to his companion, just for the happiness of 
 hearing her voice in answer to his question. 
 
 " Life is pleasant to you now ? " 
 
 " Yes, very, very pleasant ; and I believe that I 
 have earned the right to enjoy it. It is very long 
 since I have played."
 
 56 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " Yes, it is a glorious thing, life, on such a 
 night as this. There are many pleasures which 
 we often forget to be grateful for." 
 
 Something touched him on the shoulder. It 
 was a touch as light as the tap of the leaves 
 against him ; but he started as if some one had 
 struck him a direful blow. A voice faint as the 
 wind echoing in the trees whispered these words 
 in his ear : " Those who die in strife leave be 
 hind the pleasures, but not the pain of life." 
 
 The young man started to his feet and crossed 
 himself mechanically. Through the thicket he 
 caught a glimpse of a tall woman with a mantilla 
 wrapped about her head and shoulders ; at the 
 sight the color faded from his lip and cheek, and 
 his great frame shook with a sudden tremor. 
 Margaret had seen and heard nothing ; but she 
 rose and shivered even as he had done, and lay 
 ing her hand upon his arm said, "Take me 
 home ; we have stayed too long."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MARGARET had received her first commission ! 
 What artist does not remember the day when he 
 sold his first picture ? What sculptor but has 
 made a broad red mark in his memory against 
 the day his first model was accepted ? What 
 writer can recall without a smile of reflected 
 pleasure the hour when the post brought him, 
 not his own carefully written manuscript, " re 
 turned with regrets and thanks," but a letter 
 telling him that his thoughts are to be scattered 
 abroad to the world through the mighty medium 
 of the printing-press ? He may learn later that 
 what he thought was living seed is nothing but 
 chaff, thrown out from other brains, and mistaken 
 by him for original inspiration ; he may find that 
 the seed, though living, falls upon stony ground, 
 and perishes. But in that hour of maiden suc 
 cess there is no gnawing doubt of self; all is 
 pure, triumphant happiness. Perhaps only sec 
 ond to one moment in all our lives is this first 
 victory, that moment when the one heart in 
 all the world whose beating is attuned to our
 
 58 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 own acknowledges the sweet concord, and we 
 know that the two can never again be entirely 
 divided. 
 
 Margaret had received her first commission. 
 Her voice was heard singing a happy little tune 
 over the work which, from that time forth, ac 
 quired a new dignity in her eyes. It had a 
 market value. It was merchantable, like sugar 
 and cotton, bricks and breadstuff's. Men would 
 exchange that which they love best after and 
 sometimes before their own souls for its pos 
 session. She was an amateur no longer. She 
 had become a money-getter, a bread-winner, a 
 producer. The mere fact that she was to get 
 so many dollars for fulfilling the order would not 
 have accounted for the exhilaration of Margaret's 
 spirits. It would be hard to imagine a person 
 to whom the possession of wealth was of less 
 importance. She had never wanted for any 
 thing in her life. Her tastes were simple. She 
 gave away half the income which was settled 
 on herself because she did not care to take the 
 time or thought to spend it. She was not an 
 heiress, but had a sufficient fortune to maintain 
 her comfortably all her days. Money meant 
 only to her what it does to those who have nei 
 ther suffered the need of it nor felt the embar 
 rassment of its excess. There must have been 
 some reason, then, for Margaret's happiness,
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 59 
 
 beyond the mere prospect of winning a certain 
 number of bank-notes. What is this feeling 
 which urges the queen on her throne to put 
 her thoughts into merchantable shape and offer 
 them to be sold at a stall alongside the book 
 of some humble writer starving in a garret ? 
 What induces a princess of the blood to hang 
 her pictures in the great exhibitions, laying aside 
 her royalty for the nonce, and claiming equality 
 with her artist subjects ? It is a strange instinct, 
 this ; it seems like an acknowledgment that in 
 proportion as a thing is salable, so is it valua 
 ble. And yet Theodore Winthrop died broken 
 hearted, his three noble books, still in manuscript, 
 rejected by every publisher in the land, while 
 authors of certain dime-novels of his time have 
 grown rich through the sale of their Very unsa 
 vory works. 
 
 Why Margaret was so happy, the recorder of 
 her triumph cannot say, and must leave the 
 question to the reader, trusting that he may find 
 the proper solution of this problem. 
 
 It was a curious order, the like of which it is 
 doubtful if ever sculptor was intrusted with. 
 
 Perhaps the nearest parallel to it that the 
 history of art affords is the snow statue com 
 manded from Michael Angelo by the Medici. 
 Tradition says that though Angelo received the 
 order of his patron with a very bad grace, he
 
 60 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 nevertheless executed it with his never-failing 
 skill. I have never known, but have always 
 wondered what subject the sculptor chose to 
 typify in the fleeting marble of the snowdrift. 
 May he not have moulded an image of the god 
 Eros, youngest, fairest, most remorseless of the 
 Olympians, whose touch, like that of the snow, 
 at once burns and freezes ? 
 
 Margaret was commissioned to summon forth 
 from the depths of a salt-mine its tutelary deity ; 
 and having once seen its face, to sculpture it on 
 the living wall of its invaded domain. She vis 
 ited the mine; and what she saw and learned 
 there can be best told in her own words. We 
 take the liberty of making an extract from Miss 
 Ruysdale's private journal : 
 
 PAGES FROM THE DIARY OF MARGARET 
 RUYSDALE. 
 
 " The order is now given to make ready the lift, and 
 in a twinkling we find ourselves dropping out of the 
 light of day, below the surface of the earth. Swiftly 
 but steadily the small square platform drops down, 
 down, into the bosom of the earth. The motion is so 
 rapid that we seem to be flying from the daylight. At 
 the bottom of the shaft we alight, to find ourselves 
 in the upper gallery of the salt-mine. It is Sunday, 
 and the great shining corridor, hewn out of the pure 
 crystal, is silent and without sign of life. A group of
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 6 1 
 
 flickering oil-lamps stand prepared for us, and each of 
 us hastens to take possession of one, eager to keep 
 back the great sea of darkness by the small beacon of 
 a miner's lamp. 
 
 " The vaulted roof is upborne by gigantesque pillars 
 sculptured from the living crystal, and we pass down 
 the wide aisles full of a wonder not untouched by awe. 
 Leading the way is one slight figure, which we might 
 well imagine to be that of the genius of the mine, a 
 young woman, whose graceful form assumes at each 
 instant some new and classic pose. She now holds 
 her lamp high above her head, to show a splendid 
 crystal shining like a diamond on the side of the mine, 
 and again stoops to pick a fragment of rock-salt from 
 the floor. As she pauses and looks over her shoulder 
 at us who follow, she recalls one of the figures which 
 Pompeii has preserved on the walls of its ruined villas, 
 graceful, airy, with the careless, light beauty of Greek 
 art domiciled in Italy. As we turn into one of the 
 branching galleries, a new spectacle meets our view. * 
 High up against the roof a faint light glimmers out of 
 the heavy darkness. It grows stronger and brighter, 
 and at last springs into a triumphant glory, illuminat 
 ing vaulted roof and pillared aisle, floor, and shining 
 walls with its warm glow. It sparkles on the wondrous 
 crystals, and reveals the great drilled holes of the 
 blasts ; it throws itself triumphantly down the midnight 
 gallery, and is lost in its distant shadows ; it touches 
 the face of a youth, beautiful as a young faun, who 
 bends close beside the flame and feeds it with a steady 
 hand. It is dynamite, this rosy, searching radiance,
 
 62 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 and the young man is its guardian. The light wanes 
 slowly, and at last flickers out, and the shadows come 
 trooping about us again thick and fast. 
 
 " The others are going to another part of the mine ; 
 but I linger behind them, unwilling to leave so soon 
 this strange place. They have turned into the main 
 aisle again; the voices and torches grow fainter and 
 dimmer, and are finally lost. Moved by a sudden 
 impulse, I quench the small spark of light I carry in my 
 hand, and the darkness settles visibly about me like a 
 pall. It presses upon my shoulders with an irresistible 
 weight, and forces me to my knees upon the soft, salt- 
 sanded earth. I cannot stand alone in this wonderful 
 quiet darkness. A power that I have never felt before 
 compels me to bend my head before the Invisible. 
 My life, it seems to me, was in some mysterious way 
 burning with that tiny point of flame in the vase of oil. 
 With the failing of the flame my life has been extin 
 guished, and I am now nothing but a shadow, like 
 those that fled before me but a moment ago. Will the 
 flame ever be rekindled ? Shall I ever again reclaim 
 my lost humanity ? And if I could, would I raise my 
 voice to make that claim heard? There is a pause 
 unmeasured by sight or sound. Is it of minutes or of 
 centuries? Am I still a human being, or a shadow 
 of the mine ? No senses are left me, but a power of 
 vision which is not of the senses. 
 
 " I am conscious of a vast plain of water, blue, tran 
 quil, limitless, waveless, for it is a sea without a shore ; 
 and in the heaven shines a spotless sun, calm, radiant, 
 all-powerful. Time passes ; are they seconds or eons
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 63 
 
 that elapse before the sapphire sea is troubled and 
 broken into crested lines of white sea-foam? Dark 
 streaks seem trembling upwards, striving with and at 
 last conquering the all-powerful sea ; for a low ridge of 
 land appears, defying the waters, which must now for 
 all time fret and chafe against its stubborn sides. The 
 brown streaks grow and grow, stretch out towards 
 each other, and link themselves at last into a great 
 ring, prisoning in its midst a disk of conquered 
 water. In vain the bounded sea rebels and tries to 
 break down the wall of earth that holds it fast, and 
 rush back to its mother element. In vain; for it is 
 the day when God said, ' Let there be land ! ' And 
 the ring grows broad, and strong, and firm, and at last 
 beautiful and green ; for the great sun is its friend, and 
 the lake is land-locked, a hopeless captive. But 
 while the sun looks kindly on the earth, and brings 
 forth from its bosom strange and beautiful forms, it 
 parches the lake cruelly, and the prisoner pines and 
 shrinks, and grows less and less, while the eager land 
 presses greedily about it, and follows its retreat step 
 by step ; and at every step which the land gains there 
 is a mark of its victory, a mark that shall endure while 
 the land exists. But the bitterness of the sea cannot 
 be conquered ; and when the victory is complete, and 
 the last lapse of water has dried and died beneath the 
 sun, the land bears in its bosom a great basin of sea- 
 salt, which testifies to those who shall come thereafter 
 that the sea once held dominion here. But all is not 
 peaceful yet with the conquering land. Stormy pas 
 sions shake her being, and in one of these outbursts of
 
 64 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 volcanic fury the great salt basin is torn from its bed 
 and tossed upon its side, and so lies edgewise ; for the 
 earth cannot expel, though she may distort, the legacy 
 of the sea. And now the land covers that which she 
 cannot cast out with clean, soft soil, and a wondrous 
 thick carpet of green, from which spring giant trees 
 and fair flowers, making the land full of beauty to him 
 who has come at last to enjoy all that has been so long 
 preparing for him. Man comes, and with him human 
 labor ; and the soil is tilled, and cane is planted, and 
 bears sugar for the master of the land. But the hid 
 den salt is still there, and the roots of the cane reach 
 far down into the earth. And when the cane is gath 
 ered, and the stubble stands through the long winter, a 
 strange, white bloom is seen upon its broken stumps, 
 which when tasted proves to be, not sweet, but salt. 
 The black laborer learns this fact without question. 
 By the simpler types of man all the wonders of nature 
 are thus accepted, one seeming not more mysterious 
 than another. And the land still keeps her secret. 
 
 "A well is needed, and a shaft is sunk. Water 
 comes bubbling to the surface, bringing with it a 
 strange testimony of the forgotten sea ; the spring is 
 salt. Time passes ; the golden age of peaceful agri 
 culture comes and goes, and Acadia knows the iron 
 age of war. War and want frown down upon the 
 strong young country. The great storehouses of the 
 world are closed, and men are thrown back upon 
 the resources of their own land. There is a salt fam 
 ine ; and a man who thinks more than his neighbors 
 brings the great kettles from his sugar-house and boils
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 65 
 
 the water of the salt spring, and thus secures a small 
 supply of salt. This is while the latest of the centuries 
 is in its youth and the youngest of the nations x in its 
 childhood. Peace again ! And commerce comes 
 back, bringing its supplies from other countries, and 
 saving men the toil of seeking at home that which it is 
 easier to bring from abroad. The salt spring is for 
 gotten, and half a century passes before the red war- 
 cloud darkens above Arcadia. War again, the cruellest 
 of all wars, in which the lusty sons have turned their 
 weapons each against his brother ; there is no other 
 strong enough to cope with them. Then the dwellers 
 in the island remember the tradition of the boiling of 
 the salt water, and the old kettles are set up again, 
 and a meagre residuum of salt is gained, while the 
 great basin lies unsuspected ten feet beneath the sur 
 face of the ground. The spring fails one day, and a 
 new well is sunk. The laborers strike, in digging it, a 
 rock which they cannot dislodge. 
 
 " ' Dig around it,' says the overseer. Dig around it ! 
 Dig around the great salt basin whose upper edge it 
 takes a hundred and a half acres of soil to cover ! 
 The task is soon seen to be a difficult one, and the 
 obstinate ledge of rock, which cannot be dug around, 
 is examined. At last, after cycles have passed, you 
 are avenged, O sea ! and the land is found to be but 
 a setting to the great treasure she holds embedded in 
 her jealous breast. Pure and priceless in its worth is 
 the great salt-bed, and the island which was never 
 heard of before a hundred miles beyond its shores is 
 now one of the wonders of the New World.
 
 66 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " A light breaks upon my eyes, which have forgotten 
 the darkness in the great panorama which has been 
 spread before my mind. I struggle to my feet, and in 
 a moment am surrounded by my friends, who have 
 not had time even to notice my absence. It was but 
 for a half-hour, after all, that I was lost in the salt 
 mine." 
 
 After this preliminary visit followed days of 
 earnest work, during which the studio door 
 yielded not to the touch of friend or admirer, 
 Margaret's father even being for the first time 
 excluded from her counsels. Hitherto she had 
 labored mainly to please him, and had worked 
 under his direction, carrying out his ideas. She 
 had been, in very fact, little more than the fine 
 tool he had fashioned for himself. All was now 
 changed. Her individuality must play its part ; 
 she would be held responsible for her work, and 
 her brain alone must direct her hand. For the 
 first time in her life she felt the creative force in 
 herself. The clay seemed a living substance, 
 which moulded itself beneath her hands as if as 
 much interested as she in the process of its 
 transformation. When her model was complete, 
 Margaret and her father disappeared from the 
 city, accompanied by a kindred spirit, whom 
 Margaret had discovered in the person of one 
 Antonio, a master stonecutter famous for his 
 tasteful mantelpieces and mortuary monuments.
 
 AT ALA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 67 
 
 No warning was given of their intended depart 
 ure, and their friends were at a loss to account 
 for it. Gradually the secret leaked out, and a 
 conspiracy was formed to follow the fugitives 
 to the very bowels of the earth. 
 
 Mrs. Harden was the prime leader of the 
 enterprise, and the party included Philip Ron- 
 delet. Feuardent was not invited. Meanwhile 
 Margaret, quite unconscious of the plot for her 
 pursuit, was working steadily. The days flew 
 by as only working days do, when each hour 
 sees something accomplished, each day a step 
 hewn out of the mountain road at whose sum 
 mit Fame sits. To some men it is an easy 
 ascent ; they reach the top without suspecting it. 
 It is told of Rossini (whose early operas had 
 been hissed from the stage) that on the night 
 when that masterpiece, "The Barber of Seville," 
 was first produced, he dared not go to the the 
 atre, but sat at home shivering in his poor room. 
 Presently he heard the sound of a great throng 
 of people in the street below on the stair at 
 his very door. " They have come to mob me ! " 
 cried the great composer ; and as no other es 
 cape was possible, he beat a hasty retreat up the 
 chimney. They came and bade him stand forth 
 to receive the homage of the whole city assembled 
 to do him honor. 
 
 I knew a man once, a famous writer to-day,
 
 68 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 whose fears of public ridicule it was my task 
 to strive to allay while his first book was in 
 press. Three months after, his name was known 
 wherever the English language is read. There 
 are men who walk steadily down the scale of 
 excellence, as unconscious of their descent as 
 this other was of his upward progress. There 
 are those again, in the band of mountaineers 
 striving to reach the Alpine summit, who through 
 their own temerity lose foot-hold and slip head 
 long into some abyss. To such a one it often 
 happens that his more fortunate companions 
 lower ropes to him and strive in every way to 
 extricate him from the pit into which he has 
 fallen. If they succeed in bringing him to the 
 surface, they try to shoulder him along with 
 themselves. That is a pleasant phase, and one 
 that I like to see ; never mind if the rescued man 
 should slip into the next crevasse, his friends 
 will be all the better able to go on their way for 
 having given him another chance. The cautious 
 man, who sits down on the safe ground of his 
 first successful step and dares go no farther lest 
 the crust should give way beneath his feet, is, 
 alas ! a common type, and perhaps the saddest 
 one to see. We expected so much of him ! His 
 first book struck so fine a note, ringing out clear 
 and bold, penetrating the busy ears dulled by 
 constant world-rumble. We cry, " Bravo ! Go on !
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 69 
 
 Give us the second note in the chord ! " But 
 the second note is the first! Like Toto's kingly 
 singer, he can go no farther than Do ! He can 
 roar it louder and louder, do ! DO ! DO ! but 
 he cannot sing re! though he should split his 
 throat. 
 
 We can make no symphony of praise for him ; 
 he gave the key-note, others must make the har 
 mony. It is painful of ascent at best, this hill, 
 even where ambition is the staff, and the heels 
 are winged with genius. It is too rough a road 
 for a woman to tread, and let us hope that our 
 young heroine will not attempt it. Better for 
 her the smooth country by-road, with fruitful 
 fields on either hand, than the rugged mountain 
 path. And yet " Mr. Toil " is the only spouse who 
 is never unfaithful ; and when friend, sweetheart, 
 husband, break troth with a woman, let her open 
 her arms and fold the grim old fellow to her 
 deserted breast. If she be true to him, he will 
 not forsake her in the darkest hour. The more 
 homage she laid at the feet of the mortal lover, 
 the colder he grew, perchance ; but with " Mr. 
 Toil " every sacrifice is richly rewarded, the 
 closer the embrace in which she folds him, the 
 stronger the support he returns. 
 
 None of these thoughts troubled Margaret 
 Ruysdale, one may be sure, as she sat high up 
 on her scaffolding in the dark gallery of the
 
 70 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 salt-mine. They are thoughts which do not vex 
 children, and the young girl was, as her friend 
 Sara Harden often said, still a child in most 
 respects. The work was finished. That very 
 night the scaffolding was to be knocked away. 
 Her fingers lingered lovingly over the surface 
 which she should never touch again. With her 
 chisel she deepened a line here, and shaved off 
 a particle of crystal there. She was taking fare 
 well of the face which she had freed from the 
 living wall of salt. How she had enjoyed cutting 
 the clear white crystal from the features which 
 she almost believed were behind it ! 
 
 " I am only unveiling the face of the salt- 
 spirit," she had said a dozen times when her 
 father and the cutter of stone had warned her 
 that she was working too hastily in the brittle 
 material. She had understood instinctively the 
 soft, friable, salt crystal, and had used her chisel 
 with more dexterity than her colleague, ham 
 pered by the traditions of his trade. 
 
 " None but a novice would have attempted it," 
 said the workman admiringly. " A novice and 
 a woman ! Only novices and women achieve 
 the impossible." 
 
 "And genius, Antonio," added the General 
 sententiously, claiming for his daughter the su 
 preme of gifts. Stuart Ruysdale was a modest 
 man as far as he himself was concerned ; but
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 7 1 
 
 his vanity in regard to his child was unbounded. 
 The most unassuming people often make the 
 vainest parents. 
 
 A group of moving lights appeared at the end 
 of the gallery. Margaret supposed they were 
 carried by a party of miners, and paid no heed 
 to their approach. The lights halted at the foot 
 of the scaffolding, and still she went on re 
 touching the features with a loving care. There 
 was a pause, then a shout of greeting fell upon 
 her ear. She started ; and being perilously near 
 the edge of the planking, gave a little cry of 
 fright before she could answer the salutation. 
 When she learned that her friends had come to 
 visit her, she made her way down the ladder. 
 Philip was the first to take her hand. 
 
 " How could you deceive me so ? " he asked. 
 
 " I did n't ; I only let you be deceived." 
 
 " Beshrew you for an evil-disposed little thing. 
 I wonder you dared come down at all. Do you 
 call this the part of friendship?" cried Mrs. 
 Harden. 
 
 " Forgive me, all of you ! I did want to keep 
 my secret to myself, and you have got the better 
 of me, after all ; so be magnanimous." 
 
 " It will depend upon how we like your Lot's 
 wife. It's that, of course, you have been dig 
 ging out of the wall ? " rejoined Mrs. Harden, 
 laughing.
 
 72 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 "You shall see," answered Margaret. "They 
 have come to take away the supports, and you 
 shall guess what the subject is." 
 
 When the obscuring planks were removed, a 
 strong light was cast upon the roof of the mine, 
 which was vaulted, like the aisle of a Norman 
 church. Vast pillars hewn out of the quartz, 
 spanned by round arches, supported the roof ; 
 and near one of these massive columns Margaret 
 had carved the likeness of the salt-sprite. The 
 face on which the brilliant flickering light now 
 fell was set about with glittering salt-crystals, 
 which shone like so many mammoth diamonds. 
 It was a melancholy face, full of startled surprise. 
 From the darkness of the mine it glimmered 
 forth, pale, reproachful, ghostly. 
 
 " How beautiful, but how uncanny ! Where 
 did you ever see such a face, child ? " said Mrs. 
 Harden, breaking the silence. 
 
 " Here in the mine." 
 
 " It is a great success," said the master of the 
 mine, "and I congratulate myself on the pos 
 session of so remarkable a work of art. My 
 only regret is that it exists in so perishable a 
 material." 
 
 Each one had his or her word to say of praise 
 and gratulation. General Ruysdale, pleased and 
 proud, walked about, viewing the sculptured 
 head from every point, " positively chortling
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 73 
 
 with happiness," as Mrs. Harden said ; but Mar 
 garet soon slipped away from her friends and 
 admirers. Philip followed, and found her sitting 
 near the shaft, in the twilight region, where the 
 darkness of the mine and the glad light of day 
 were struggling for the upper hand. 
 
 "Are you not satisfied?" he asked, quick to 
 see her trouble. 
 
 "No, and it hurts me to have you all praise it 
 when I know how much better I could have 
 made it. It seems as if you expected nothing 
 more of me, and were surprised that I have 
 done even as well as this." 
 
 " Dear friend, believe me, that feeling is one 
 that you will always have, no matter at what 
 point you may arrive in your art. You have in 
 your own mind the spirit of the conception, and, 
 do what you will, you can only show us its re 
 flection. When self-satisfaction comes, progress 
 stops. May you never know it." 
 
 " It makes me ashamed to have them praise 
 me," Margaret repeated. And Philip laughed, 
 and told her that this was as it should be.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE Carnival was at hand, and the city was 
 tingling with curiosity and expectation of the 
 pranks the revellers were preparing to perpe 
 trate. Practical jokes of the most complex nat 
 ure were brewing in the minds of men whose 
 age and occupation might in other parts of the 
 world have precluded the possibility of their tak 
 ing part in such frivolous amusement. Canal 
 Street was crowded with shoppers, flaneurs, and 
 loafers of all degrees, from the gentlemen con 
 gregated about the steps of the Club-house to 
 the knot of unaccountables at the street corner. 
 Nowhere in the world does the verb " to loaf " 
 exist in so many tenses as in New Orleans ; not 
 dreamy Venice, nor sunny Naples itself, can ex 
 cel the Crescent City in the number of its loaf 
 ers or the quality of its loafing. It is an art, 
 indeed, to loaf well and elegantly, so that the 
 action is without irritating effect upon work- 
 driven unfortunates, or repellantly suggestive 
 of the waste of time to those who by nature 
 resemble that tiresome, overrated insect, the 
 busy bee.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 75 
 
 Ask this same hard-working honey-bee if he 
 would n't like to be a drone if he could. I war 
 rant he would jump, or fly, or buzz, or do what 
 ever a bee does to express pleasure at the chance 
 to change places with the favored attendant of 
 the queen-bee. 
 
 One evening, when Canal Street was even more 
 crowded with loafers than is its wont, two per 
 sons, who seemed to have some definite object 
 in being abroad, took their way down this wide 
 thoroughfare, the main artery through which 
 the city's life-blood pulsates. Philip Rondelet 
 and his companion, Margaret Ruysdale, would 
 gladly have joined the throng of wayfarers loiter 
 ing through the street ; but as neither ventured 
 to make the suggestion, they followed the pro 
 gramme they had marked out for the evening. 
 Leaving the gay highway, they turned into a 
 narrow alley which led through one of the 
 poorest quarters of the town. There were no 
 street-lamps here, only an occasional lantern 
 swinging before the door of some dealer in 
 liquors or small wares. At the corner of a cross 
 street they paused for a moment, attracted by 
 the interior of a small shop where a bright light 
 was flaring r Heaps of vegetables and fruit were 
 piled against the walls, and from the darkened 
 rafters hung bunches of herbs and red peppers. 
 A fire burned on the hearth, over which a pot
 
 76 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 was suspended by a rusty iron chain. A woman 
 with a red handkerchief drawn over her head was 
 superintending the cooking. She was no longer 
 young, but showed traces of beauty in the outlines 
 of her face and figure. She was of a Spanish 
 type ; but that her blood was not unmixed with 
 that of an inferior race was evident from the too 
 deep olive of the skin and the closely curling 
 hair. A man sat near her on the counter en 
 gaged in sharpening a knife on a small grind 
 stone. It was a harmless knife, fit only for the 
 paring of vegetables ; but in the hands of the red- 
 shirted dago it seemed to lose its innocent char 
 acter, his fierce dark face was so intent upon 
 his work, his strong bare arm looked as if it 
 could wield a more dangerous blade so effect 
 ively. The two were listening to a third person, 
 who completed the group, a woman who might 
 have been sister or daughter to her of the red 
 handkerchief, judging from her profile. In a 
 moment she turned to the man, who was deli 
 cately testing the blade of his knife upon his 
 fingers ; and as she moved toward him, the full 
 light, falling upon her, revealed a white, eager 
 face, framed in heavy black hair and marked 
 by straight dark eyebrows. The resemblance 
 had vanished ; there could be no kinship surely 
 between this tall young woman, with her white 
 jewelled hands and simple mourning robe of
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. ^^ 
 
 modish design and the quadroon woman with 
 her rough companion ; and yet the eyes of all 
 three had a curious resemblance, rising slightly 
 at the corners, their color a deep fiery brown 
 that was not without a tinge of red. The 
 younger woman was evidently appealing to the 
 man, for he shook his head and made a sign 
 of dissent, shaking the forefinger of his right 
 hand, and then setting to work on his knife 
 again. The elder woman said something, in a 
 language unknown to Margaret, in a soothing 
 tone. The younger one answered passionately 
 and with a despairing gesture. 
 
 " Theresita, be quiet ; let 's hear no more 
 about killing," said the man in a hoarse under 
 tone. " Have n't you seen enough of that sort 
 of business yet ? " 
 
 The two in the street had paused outside, at 
 tracted by the picturesque interior, with its three 
 striking figures. At these significant words 
 Margaret started and turned to go. Rondelet 
 stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed upon Therese, 
 in whom he recognized the heroine of that 
 strange adventure at the old duelling-ground. 
 
 Margaret touched him. " Come away," she 
 whispered, appealingly. 
 
 Philip started, drew her arm through his own, 
 and hurried her from the place, looking back 
 over his shoulder as he walked.
 
 78 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " What did it all mean ? " she asked presently. 
 
 " God knows, my child. Promise me to forget 
 it, never to think of it or speak of it again." 
 
 " I can never forget that woman's face ; I will 
 not speak of it." 
 
 " I had no right to bring you through such a 
 neighborhood. Ah, here is your church at last." 
 
 They entered a large square meeting-house, 
 before which were flaring several pine-wood 
 torches. Half a dozen blacks were loafing 
 about the entrance ; but the love-feast was too 
 attractive to permit of many of the congre 
 gation's loitering outside the church. Mar 
 garet and Rondelet took their seats just as 
 the preacher rose to his feet. He was a mu 
 latto, with a clever face and a certain magnet 
 ism which made itself felt as soon as he opened 
 his lips. The words of his text were, " The man 
 that is perfect in his dealings, it is not a hard 
 matter for him to get a living in this world. 
 Therefore be perfect fn all your dealings ; and 
 to be perfect you must be of one mind." 
 
 "The Apostle Paul says, 'Be of one mind.' 
 Week after week you have a little preacher that 
 stands here talking to you ; what is he for ? To 
 get all your hearts centred on one thing, 
 the grace of God, that you may live again in 
 peace, that you may be of one mind. That is 
 the question, that is the question, of one mind.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 79 
 
 Would it not be a good plan to be of one mind 
 to take hold of a rope ? You have seen men 
 pulling on a cable. All get on the rope. If all 
 pull one way, they move a great weight. But 
 suppose one turns his face another way : they 
 won't move much. Now in a class-meeting, if 
 we are of one mind, and that mind the salva 
 tion of men's souls, can we not do a great work ? 
 Jesus says you can move a mountain. You can 
 ask God for any service ; you can ask God to 
 convert any young man. He will do it. 
 
 " What a great comfort it is when a young 
 man or woman who desires his salvation may 
 come and see there are so many prayers going 
 up in their behalf. God will answer prayer. 
 God will take the sinner out of his own" ways; 
 'he will place a new song in his mouth.' 
 
 " Any person that don't pray, can't be com 
 fortable. By praying, a man or woman in the 
 dark hours of midnight feels comforted when he 
 wrestles with God. Some of you have witnessed 
 this. Waking up in the night, you get up in 
 the dark, you wrestle with God in a sorrow and 
 prayer, and he answers your prayer. You feel 
 comfort in the Holy Spirit. , But a person that 
 don't pray can't feel comfortable. Ask a sinner 
 man or sinner woman, ask him if a pain strikes 
 him ; he is not comfortable. But the child of 
 God can bear the pain with comfort. The first
 
 80 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 thing his mind calls on is his Jesus. The first 
 thing that strikes the sinner is God's judgment, 
 ' I have offended God, I am troubled ! ' And 
 for that poor sinner, if I can sing in his ears, there 
 is good comfort. Live in peace ; the God of love 
 and peace shall be with you. Don't you want this 
 peace? Don't you want a perfect body, perfect 
 before man, perfect before God ? If there is any 
 thing the Old Man hates, it is to see a young man 
 stand up and say he is going to be free. There 
 is a little fear of Catholics in the second order 
 going wrong, because they give a penalty on you ; 
 but in God's Church you are so free you let the 
 penalty fall on your souls. Be perfect in your 
 dealings, be true to one another ; then it will be 
 the consequence : the God of love and peace shall 
 be with you, if you be perfect in these meetings. 
 I have no fault to find; I can find fault after fault 
 if I want. The best man that ever lived has done 
 some fault ; but the man that is perfect, the 
 man that is perfect in his dealings, it is not a 
 hard matter for him to get a living in the world. 
 Be perfect in all your dealings ; and to be perfect 
 you must be of one mind. And in the next 
 world, oh, my beloved sisters and brothers, we 
 will part no more ! There will be comfort and 
 happiness, and the day of wrestling with God 
 will be past, when we get to heaven, when we 
 get to heaven ! "
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 8 1 
 
 The minister had begun his discourse quietly 
 and fervently ; but as he spoke he became more 
 animated. His voice was of a sonorous quality 
 and of unusual capacity. As he drew near to the 
 close of his address he was frequently interrupted 
 by cries of " Glory, glory ! That 's so ! Oh, my 
 soul ! Poor sinners ! " These ejaculations acted 
 as stimulants to the preacher, and his voice now 
 grew soft and thrilling, and again pealed forth 
 like a trumpet-blast. As he repeated the line, 
 " When we get to heaven we will part no more," 
 his body began to sway rhythmically to the words, 
 and he spread out his arms toward the people. 
 At the signal the congregation took up the words 
 and chanted them to the monotonous music of 
 one of their simplest hymns, 
 
 " When we git to heaben, we will part no mo', 
 When we git to heaben, we will part no mo'." 
 
 The music grew louder, and was accompanied 
 by a gentle rapping of time with the hands and 
 feet and a metrical swaying of the body. The 
 old men and women in the front seats, the church 
 dignitaries seated either side of the preacher, the 
 younger people, who occupied the centre of the 
 church, and the children and lovers, who lurked 
 in the shadow near the door, all joined the 
 chorus, swaying slowly from side to side with 
 dreamy, sensuous faces, 
 6
 
 82 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " When we get to heaben, we will part no mo', 
 When we get to heaben, we will part no mo'." 
 
 Margaret unconsciously lifted her voice and 
 took up the chant, 
 
 " When we get to heaven, we will part no more." 
 
 Her pulse seemed to beat out the measure, and 
 her lithe body swayed in time with those of the 
 men and women about her. The music and 
 the emotion aroused by it seemed to have intox 
 icated the dusky crowd ; and it was when this 
 excitement was at its height that the minister 
 with a gesture silenced the music he had led 
 them into, 
 
 " My friends, it is good to praise the Lord with 
 hymns and rejoicings, but it is better to praise 
 him with your acts. How is the church support 
 ed? how is its ministers and its deacons paid ? 
 By your acts of praise. Now the requisite sum 
 needed for the salary of the elder deacon is four 
 teen dollars and seventy-five cents, and to-night 
 I must see that fourteen dollars and seventy-five 
 cents raised. Come, now, the Lord will help 
 you ; give bravely, give freely. The money in 
 your pockets is ready to come out ; give it with 
 a free hand and a willing heart. Walk up this 
 way, the brothers are waiting for you." 
 
 Four of the deacons, holding baskets in their 
 hands, stood beside the pastor, and a fifth self-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 83 
 
 appointed dignitary taking his ragged hat in 
 his hand held it out for contributions. The 
 people filed down and dropped their money 
 in the baskets, the ragged hat getting quite 
 its share of the offering. The man who held 
 it was of the coarsest African type. His ugly 
 face was disfigured by many scars ; but the 
 expression of the creature was so full of a 
 kindly humor that it was impossible to look 
 into it without experiencing a responsive kind 
 liness. The minister's speech had been unusu 
 ally pure ; this fellow spoke with the strongest 
 negro brogue. 
 
 " Come, brudder Long, dat nickel is a jumpin' 
 to git out of yer pocket ! Step up dis way, young 
 fellahs, step up and help de Lord ! Nelly, Nelly, 
 can't yd gib de Lord mor 'n a dime ? yo' as gets 
 so big wages de Lord knows jest what yer gib 
 him to-night, and don't yer forget it. Come up, 
 come up; fill de ole hat. If we make up de 
 fourteen dollars and seventy-five cents, I '11 buy a 
 new hat for de next Sabbath." 
 
 His face and manner would have been better 
 suited to a minstrel show than to a prayer-meet 
 ing, yet he was so earnest that he moved the 
 people. The old hat was filled twice over with 
 silver ; but when the money was counted, it was 
 found to be a dollar and a half short of the requi 
 site sum.
 
 84 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " Take this up," whispered Margaret to a 
 young negro near her ; and the fourteen dollars 
 and seventy-five cents were thus made complete. 
 
 " Did you ever see that rascal with the cap 
 before ? " whispered Rondelet. 
 
 " No, I think not." 
 
 "It's my boy Hero, the greatest scamp I 
 know. That woman with a baby is his sister 
 Leander. They were twins, and the minister 
 who christened them got their names mixed, and 
 the mistake was never corrected. They belonged 
 to my father." 
 
 Now that the elder deacon's salary was pro 
 vided for, the singing began in good earnest. 
 The pastor, whose restraining hand had checked 
 the song just at the generous stage of exaltation, 
 by way of reward gave the rein to his parishion 
 ers. The music grew more and more impressive, 
 interrupted as it was by deep groans and excited 
 exclamations. In a pause of the hymn the min 
 ister asked, " Where is the miserable sinner ? " 
 He was echoed by Hero, who groaned as if with 
 acute pain. 
 
 " Ay ! ay ! Where is he ? Let him speak ! " 
 
 " Here, here, here ! " was answered from all 
 parts of the church. 
 
 " Let him show himself," said the pastor. 
 
 " Show yerself, stand up dar ; de Lord sees 
 yer," cried Hero.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 85 
 
 Three or four young men and as many women 
 rose to their feet in different parts of the 
 building. 
 
 " Oh, my poor sinners, we all have been sin 
 ners too, and may be yet again ; we will pray for 
 you that the day of grace be not far off." 
 
 " Pray for de poor sinners," moaned Hero ; 
 " I 'se a sinner myself ; dis congregation may not 
 see de sin, but de Lord knows it, and de Lord 's 
 a helpin' me to wash dis sin away, 
 
 " Oh, wash dis sin from off my soul, wash me 1 " 
 
 The people, always more prone to sing than to 
 listen to prayer, caught up the song, and the rude 
 music silenced the minister's voice, 
 
 " Oh, wash dis sin from off my soul, wash me ! " 
 
 The minister had no further opportunity to 
 speak, for the singing continued without in 
 terruption till the hour came for breaking up. 
 When the benediction was pronounced, a period 
 of social intercourse followed. An old woman 
 with snow-white ,hair and piercing black eyes 
 offered her hand to Margaret. At this Rondelet 
 interfered, and drew her from the church, silent 
 and full of thought. 
 
 As they walked home together through the 
 moonlit streets, Philip told her of his foster- 
 brother Hero, always his friend, once his chattel,
 
 86 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 now his servant. He was a little older than 
 Philip, and the scars on his ugly black face had 
 been inflicted by the flames from which he had 
 saved his master when they were both children. 
 " We have never been separated, Hero and I," 
 said Philip. " We have seen some hard times 
 together, but he never would leave me in my 
 worst straits. Once while I was ill in Paris 
 Hero stole money to buy me medicine and 
 food. I think he would die for me without 
 hesitation." 
 
 Returning home, they found General Ruysdale 
 waiting for them on the veranda. Philip soon 
 took his leave, and the father and daughter 
 walked together in the small garden. " Is not 
 Rondelet rather a weak man, Margaret ? He 
 impresses me so." The General was beginning 
 to be rather uneasy as day by day Rondelet and 
 Margaret seemed to grow more and more in 
 sympathy with each other. He was suffering 
 for the first time that jealousy which is not the 
 least painful one, the jealousy o a father 
 regarding a possible lover. 
 
 " I hardly know, papa." 
 
 " I always have a distrust of men with such 
 voices." 
 
 His daughter answered slowly, " He is very 
 different from our men, certainly." 
 
 " He is a thoroughly good fellow, I believe ;
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 87 
 
 but I wish his voice was not quite so silvery," 
 demurred the General. 
 
 " Why," said Margaret, " his most ordinary 
 remark when he speaks to a woman is like a 
 caress." 
 
 " I don't know, Margaret ; it does n't seem 
 quite manly to me to be so soft-spoken." 
 
 " To treat women as he does ? Oh, papa, I 
 think it is the most manly thing in the world to 
 be gentle to women ! " 
 
 She was a little indignant at her father. 
 " But do you not think him a little weak ? " he 
 persisted. 
 
 " Yes, and no. Ninety-nine times out of a hun 
 dred he might pass a duty by or shirk a respon 
 sibility through indolence ; but there is the stuff 
 of which martyrs are made in Philip Rondelet. 
 He would go to the stake without a tremor for 
 for " 
 
 " For the sake of the woman he loved ? " 
 " For conscience' sake ! " 
 Brave words these, pleasant, one might think, 
 to the ears of any man when pronounced by such 
 a firm, sweet voice, words that might make 
 many a man lift his head high with conscious 
 pride at having inspired the belief they expressed 
 in so true a woman. 
 
 Philip Rondelet, passing the rear of the house 
 on his way to Jackson Square, caught their im-
 
 88 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 port, paused for a moment, threw away his scarce 
 lighted cigarette, lifted his hat, as if in salutation, 
 though the street was empty, and walked on, his 
 head bowed, his nervous hands idly bending his 
 light stick. 
 
 General Ruysdale was certainly jealous of 
 Philip. He had confided to Mrs. Harden, to 
 whose charms he had long since fallen a victim, 
 his doubts of the wisdom of Margaret's seeing 
 so much of the handsome doctor. The lady 
 Philip's stanch friend and ally queried why 
 the same objection could not be urged against 
 Feuardent. " Robert Feuardent is a child be 
 side Margaret," answered the General. " His 
 mind is perfectly undeveloped; he doesn't know 
 the difference between a statue and a bas-relief. 
 I doubt if he ever heard of Michael Angelo. 
 He poses for her, and she amuses herself with 
 him, as she does with that animated plaything, 
 my rival, General Jackson. The one is quite 
 as harmless as the other." 
 
 " I do not agree with you, sir," replied Mrs. 
 Harden. 
 
 " But, my dear madam, what possible interest 
 could my daughter and that young Creole have 
 in common ? She knows nothing about horses 
 beyond their anatomy, and he, pardon me, seems 
 to know about very little else." 
 
 " General, you misjudge young Feuardent. If
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 89 
 
 I had a daughter, I should consider him a dan 
 gerous associate for her." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Harden, you do not know my 
 daughter." 
 
 " My very dear General, I know her a great deal 
 better than you do ; and it is my belief that while 
 Margaret knows more of art and is a better 
 sculptor than she has any right to be at her age, 
 it is at the expense of much useful knowledge 
 of men and women. Of their effect upon each 
 other, of character, and of real life she is as 
 ignorant as a child." 
 
 Stuart Ruysdale, whose love for his daughter 
 was almost as deep as his pride in her work, was 
 annoyed at what her friend had said. He com 
 forted himself, however, with the belief that Mrs. 
 Harden had failed to understand the girl. 
 
 " And even if so," continued Mrs. Harden, 
 somewhat inconsequently, " why not ? Why 
 should n't Margaret fall in love like everybody 
 else ? I don't suppose, General, that you are 
 going to pledge your daughter to single un- 
 blessedness ? " 
 
 " N-n-no, not that," said the General, doubt 
 fully, prolonging the nasal sound of the n ; " n- 
 not that exactly. I should not wish to influence 
 her in that respect ; but it is a great question 
 in my mind whether she would not be happier 
 to remain as she is."
 
 90 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " I think you are wrong. It seems to be nec 
 essary for women to marry for the full develop 
 ment of their minds. After thirty an unmarried 
 woman's brain rarely gets any new creases." 
 Mrs. Harden spoke with an air of conviction, 
 and rumpled her pretty yellow hair in a dis 
 tracting fashion, as was her habit on those rare 
 occasions when by some accident she fell into 
 talking seriously, if not sensibly. " You see," 
 she continued, " you can't get something for 
 nothing. Of course, men are inferior creatures, 
 and I quite agree with you in thinking that there 
 is not one born who is good enough for Mar 
 garet. But what will you have ? There is cer 
 tainly more badness than goodness in the world. 
 If you want to live in the world, the better you 
 know it the more easily you get along in it. 
 Men are bad ; argal, to know the world you 
 must understand men. You must regard your 
 future son-in-law " the General winced " you 
 must regard your son-in-law, I say," she repeated 
 maliciously, " as a sort of necessary evil for the 
 education of your daughter." 
 
 "'Your views respecting us men are rather 
 harsh." 
 
 " Of course I am, at least I mean they are ; 
 but my practice is so different from my views. 
 I think that man is a degree below woman in 
 evolution, that he is an inferior animal, that
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 9 1 
 
 mentally as well as physically he is a less com 
 plex and less wonderful being than his mate. I 
 say I think all this quite honestly and seriously ; 
 and yet I avoid my kind invariably, and consort 
 on all occasions with the inferior human male, 
 who, remember, I believe to have been created 
 to do all the disagreeable work in the world for 
 us women, to keep the streets clean, govern 
 the city, hang the murderers, make the laws, 
 pay the butcher, and fight the battles." 
 
 With this exposition of Mrs. Harden's views 
 concerning the sphere of man, the conversation 
 came to an end.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 REX comes to-day ! King Carnival assumes 
 the honors of his brief reign. Work, business, 
 and such cares as may be laid aside at will, are 
 prohibited by the royal and benign mandate. 
 Eat and drink, such of you as have the where 
 withal to feast, and be of good cheer, even if your 
 banquet be but a few leaves of lettuce and a 
 handful of golden oranges. Rex has come, and 
 his sway is one of jollity and kindliness to all 
 men. The sun smiles upon his coming, the earth 
 is brave with her earliest spring-flowers, and the 
 mighty river, tawny and swift, is ready to bear 
 the monarch and his crew to the city on its 
 banks. A fleet of ships lie rocking at their an 
 chors. Yachts fluttering dainty pennants, black- 
 hulled merchantmen, ocean-steamers, sloops, and 
 river-boats, and a group of men-of-war, gayest 
 of all in their holiday gear. A revenue-cutter 
 heaves in sight far down the stream, and finally 
 comes to anchor near the flagship. As the cable 
 rattles down through the yellow water, the sparse, 
 clean-rigged vessel suddenly blooms forth into
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 93 
 
 gala attire. In an instant she is hung from stem 
 to stern with streamers and ribbons, gay as the 
 best of them. The cutter is just in time, for a 
 signal-gun now booms forth its warning that the 
 royal procession is about to start. Four and 
 twenty mighty white river-steamers, the escort of 
 the newly-proclaimed king, come slowly round the 
 bend where the city lies in the cool embrace of 
 the Mississippi. The royal vessel is ablaze with 
 jewels and gay uniforms, and as she passes along 
 side the flagship a salvo of guns blazes out from 
 the sides of the veteran vessel, a shrill pipe sounds, 
 and up the shrouds flash the white-clad sailors 
 to man the yards in honor of the king. High up 
 where the mainmast tapers, stand two youths, 
 with comely faces and locks which catch and 
 keep the sunlight. Festive music fills the air, 
 and hearty cheers echo from war-ship to royal 
 pleasure-barge. The procession moves on, every 
 craft paying its homage to the merry train. 
 The thick gray smoke half shrouds the vessels, 
 and save for the merry music, the friendly cheer 
 for cheer, and the harmless barking of the war- 
 dogs, who open their mouths to greet but not 
 to bite, one might have fancied the great river 
 pageant a sea-battle. General Stuart Ruysdale, 
 standing beside the commander of the flagship, 
 found it hard to realize that this firing and 
 counter-firing was all play. His thought reverted
 
 94 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 to that old time still so fresh in the minds of 
 those who acted in the great drama, and to 
 reassure himself he repeated the date of the 
 present year, "18 " "What a difference be 
 tween then and now ! " 
 
 " A difference indeed, sir," said a voice at his 
 elbow. 
 
 He turned, and saw a gentleman who had just 
 paid his respects to the commander of the ship. 
 He was a gentleman ; no one could doubt that for 
 a moment, though his threadbare coat and dingy 
 hat were of the fashion of many seasons ago. 
 He was a tall man, with a keen face, iron-gray 
 hair, and bright blue eyes ; his bearing was brisk, 
 and had that indefinable trace of the military 
 which the old soldier never loses. His straight, 
 spare figure, his square shoulders, his restless, 
 eager face, showed that his fighting days did not 
 end with Appomattox. He, like General Ruys- 
 dale, was a natural fighter, and life to him would 
 never cease to be a battle, until the sound of the 
 final roll-call. He was nearer to forty than to fifty 
 years, but the deep lines in his face made him 
 look an older man than he was in reality. 
 
 The Admiral introduced the two men : "Gen 
 eral Ruysdale, Colonel Lagrange." 
 
 "A change indeed, sir," Colonel Lagrange con 
 tinued, "as I just now heard you observe. Why, 
 sir, the last time I saw this old ship, it was from
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 9$ 
 
 the shore below here, when I tried for three days 
 to blow her up. I came pretty near doing it, too, 
 one night ; but I can say to-day, sir, that I am 
 glad I did not succeed. I remember how dark 
 't was that night, dark as my pocket ; and I was 
 creeping out from the shore in an old dory with 
 a torpedo of my own construction in tow, when a 
 boat with a Federal officer crossed our bow. He 
 challenged ; I pulled for dear life. He fired ; 
 the boats became entangled, and the torpedo 
 exploded. I was washed on shore and taken up 
 for dead, with three fingers gone and two ribs 
 broken. I never knew what became of the other 
 boat or the Union officer." 
 
 " Perhaps I oan tell you something of his fate." 
 It was General Ruysdale who spoke. 
 
 " You, sir ! What can you possibly know 
 about the event ? " 
 
 " On the night of the nineteenth of April, 
 1862 that was the date of your adventure, was 
 it not? an officer in command of the troops on 
 board this ship volunteered to make a reconnois- 
 sance of the line of obstructions which, you re 
 member, was stretched across the river from bank 
 to bank to bar the channel nearly opposite Fort 
 Jackson. It was a well-constructed defence of 
 heavy ships' chains, supported and buoyed by 
 hulks, rafts, logs, and half a dozen large schoon 
 ers. Farragut's fleet, you will remember, moved
 
 96 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 up to a point just below Forts Jackson and Philip 
 on the sixteenth of April ; and for six days and 
 nights the bombardment was kept up, the cor 
 vettes and gun-boats taking part by turns in run 
 ning up, delivering their fire, and dropping down 
 with the current out of range again. The forts 
 replied vigorously. Our object was to force a 
 passage through the floating obstructions, and 
 the officer I have spoken of was returning from 
 his examination of the work already done. He 
 had avoidad with some difficulty the fire-rafts 
 which, you will remember, were sent down every 
 night to destroy our ships, and was very close to 
 the vessel, when he saw a boat stealing out from 
 the shore in the same direction. He thought her 
 action suspicious, and gave orders to pursue her. 
 He soon caught up with the crazy old craft, which 
 carried only one man, and challenged her, order 
 ing the man to surrender. He refused, and bent 
 to his oars. The officer fired his revolver, the 
 man returned the fire ; then there was a flash, a 
 crash, an explosion, and the officer knew nothing 
 more till he came to himself the next morning in 
 the sick jpay below there. The torpedo intended 
 to blow up the man-of-war had exploded prema 
 turely. His boat had been blown to splinters, 
 and he himself thrown into the water, from which 
 he was rescued by two of his men, who sup 
 ported him till relief came from the ship, where
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 97 
 
 a close look-out on his movements had been kept 
 So the ship was saved, and the only loss sustained 
 was that of the right arm of the officer." 
 
 " And his name was ? " 
 
 " Stuart Ruysdale, at your service," replied the 
 General, with a salute. 
 
 The two men, maimed by the same catas 
 trophe all those years ago, stood looking into 
 each other's faces gravely. To them the river 
 pageant was a shadow ; the reality was in the 
 scene they had been living over, in the empty 
 sleeve and worn face of the Northener and 
 the maimed hand and broken fortunes of the 
 Southron. 
 
 " It was a terrible mistake," said Lagrange, 
 breaking the painful silence. 
 
 "Ay, it was a grievous error. It is those 
 statesmen who involved the whole nation in 
 that bloody brawl, to satisfy their own selfish 
 ambitions, that I hold guilty for all we suf 
 fered," returned the General. 
 
 " And if you hold them so, what must we, 
 who were broken and beggared by their ac 
 cursed ambition, think of them ? " the Colonel 
 murmured under his breath. 
 
 " I have thought from what I have seen since 
 I have been in the South that the heart of the 
 people could not have been in the scheme of 
 the rebellion. How is this ? "
 
 98 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH 
 
 " It was not until the war had fairly begun ; 
 and then, once in for it, we fought for all we 
 were worth. I was seventeen years old when 
 I enlisted. I did not know I doubt if a man 
 in our company knew what we were going 
 to fight for. ' States' rights ' was the battle-cry 
 in those earliest days. My father opposed the 
 secession of Louisiana in the Senate until the 
 last ; and then when his State went, right or 
 wrong, he went with her and took his two sons 
 along with him. Well, well, sir, those times are 
 best forgotten; but it's strange isn't it? 
 that you and I, blown up by the same gunpowder 
 under the lee of this old ship, should meet aboard 
 of her all these years afterward. She 's a solid 
 old hulk yet, and has been done over with new 
 fittings half-a-dozen times since the day she 
 got that rattling fire in her sides. You and 
 I have not fared quite so well, eh ? By Jove, 
 General, it sounds like a romance. Shall we 
 go below and take something to freshen up our 
 memories ? " 
 
 They left the deck, the gay company, the 
 cheering sailors, the booming guns, and found 
 their way to the ward-room below. 
 r " I drink your health, sir," said the General, 
 lifting his glass. 
 
 " Yours, sir. Let us drink together to the 
 greatest government the world has ever known,
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 99 
 
 the government that I tried, but tried in vain, 
 to upset. May it endure forever ! " 
 
 " Amen." 
 
 It was a solemn toast these two grave elder 
 men were drinking, a pledge that opened a 
 friendship which was of value to both through 
 the remainder of their lives. A few minutes 
 later, when Margaret, accompanied by Rondelet, 
 came in search of her father, she found him in 
 the company of a very shabby gentleman with a 
 kind face and cheery voice. The two veterans 
 had a map between them, and seemed scarcely 
 pleased at the interruption. 
 
 " Is it not time for us to go home, papa ? " 
 suggested Margaret. 
 
 " My child, I have waited four mortal hours 
 for you. Cannot you wait as many minutes for 
 me ? " replied her father. 
 
 " The earthworks were two miles below this 
 point, you say," he continued. 
 
 " Do you know the Colonel ? He is an old 
 friend of mine," said Rondelet. " Let us sit 
 here while they fight their old battles over 
 again." 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Darius Harden entered 
 the ward-room. She was a pretty woman, with 
 a pair of bright blue eyes and a mouth that al 
 ways laughed. It had been said of her that she 
 never went to funerals, because, try as she would,
 
 100 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 she could not compose her features to a fitting 
 expression of melancholy. She had once said to 
 Margaret, " With such an impossible turned-up 
 nose, my dear, and such a fat pair of cheeks, how 
 can I look anything but supremely jolly ? Sweet 
 seriousness is n't my line, and I know too much 
 to try it on." Mrs. Harden bowed to the General, 
 shook hands cordially with Colonel Lagrange, 
 and joined Margaret. 
 
 "My dear, what a lovely gown!" exclaimed 
 the little woman, seating herself and spreading 
 out her own skirts complacently. 
 
 " It 's very nice of you to admire it when you 
 have got such a pretty new dress of your own, 
 Mrs. Harden." 
 
 " Such soft, lovely, China-ry stuff as you always 
 manage to find ! Did you ever see such a girl, 
 Mr. Rondelet ? So queer, you know, without 
 meaning to be. I hate original people who pose 
 for it, if you know what I mean by that sort 
 of thing. Margaret does n't ; she believes she 's 
 like everybody else. Don't you, deary ? " 
 
 " No one else can agree with her in that belief, 
 can they, Mrs. Harden ? " said Philip. 
 
 " She 's such a mink, not the animal, you 
 know, but mink, singular of minx. Sly as a 
 little fox. She pretends to work so hard, and 
 then gets all the handsomest men in town to 
 pose for her, and makes them fall in love with
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. IOI 
 
 her. Now don't protest, Margaret ; I 'm sure I 
 don't blame you. I 'd do it myself if I could 
 make such pretty things with mud and water 
 and those queer little sticks. So all the women 
 would, though they do talk about your going 
 to the fete with Robert Feuardent without any 
 chaperone." 
 
 Philip moved uneasily in his chair. What 
 was Mrs. Darius Harden going to say next ? 
 he asked himself. 
 
 " They say yours is her last scalp, Philippe le 
 bel. How is it ? Does it still decorate your 
 highly respected head, or does this Atalanta 
 wear it at her belt ? I hope not ; keep it firmly 
 on your pate. I 've long had designs on it my 
 self. Do you know that she really is the original 
 Atalanta ? " 
 
 " I cannot believe her so hard of heart, Mrs. 
 Harden." 
 
 "Oh, can't you, just? Well, you'd better. 
 A flint is tender beside her. I know a secret 
 of hers too. Would n't you like to know it ? 
 Come, what will you give me to tell you ? Now 
 don't say a kiss, like the children, but offer me a 
 good fat bribe, and I will tell you who poses for 
 that lovely girl in her you know what I mean 
 her statue sculpture that thing she is 
 making out of gray mud." 
 
 " The name of the mysterious model ? Name
 
 102 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 your own bribe. Shall it be that excursion to 
 the plantation ? " 
 
 " I should say so, my brothers. Now for the 
 secret. You must know " 
 
 " Mrs. Harden, you promised ; it would not be 
 fair," interrupted Margaret earnestly, a delicious 
 color stealing into her face. 
 
 " My dear, if he had said anything else ; but 
 we all have our price, and for years I have been 
 pining to see the old Rondelet plantation. You 
 shall go too. It 's a dream of a place, and we 
 don't have to start very early in the morning. 
 Train at eight, you know, then steamer up the 
 river, and then " 
 
 " But you have n't told me yet," interrupted 
 Philip, " who the mysterious beauty is. I have 
 a wager about her with Feuardent. We have 
 both been searching the town to find her." 
 
 "Well, I have seen her just as she looks in the 
 thing, with a little skirt to the knees, the vest, 
 the bow and quivers and buskins, and very little 
 beside. I came to the studio early one morning, 
 and would n't be denied. I rattled the door, bit, 
 kicked, scratched, banged, whanged, and raised 
 particular Ned, till Margaret agreed to let me 
 in " 
 
 " On condition that you should promise never 
 to tell about anything that you saw," interrupted 
 Margaret
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 103 
 
 " I know I am a base, a perjured liar ; but then 
 I can't help it, I was born so. The studio door 
 was opened at last ; and when I got in, there was 
 Atalanta, tools in hand, blushing all over, just as 
 she is now, to her very toes and elbows, if we 
 could only see them, and there were two big mir 
 rors, between which she stood and worked and 
 posed, and worked again. Did you ever hear of 
 any one so vain ? She had put her own little 
 self from top to toe in the the thing ; and you 
 were all stupid idiots not to know it." 
 
 " It is extraordinary ; for now you have told 
 me, I remember the Atalanta is the image of 
 Miss Ruysdale. But remember that the face is 
 turned away," rejoined Philip, wondering how 
 he could have failed to recognize the lithe strong 
 figure and averted head before him in the fleeting 
 Atalanta of the bas-relief. 
 
 " And now that I have betrayed my friend for 
 you, let us arrange the particulars of my bribe. 
 When shall we go ? and can I ever persuade my 
 dear Margaret to forgive this outrage to our 
 friendship and share the fruits of my crime ? " 
 
 Miss Ruysdale did not laugh ; a breach of con 
 fidence, even in so small a matter, seemed to her 
 too serious a thing to jest about. She was of 
 that rather small class of people to whom there 
 is no satisfaction in betraying a secret or giving 
 a new and startling piece of information. Nine
 
 104 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 people out of ten will stifle their conscience and 
 break faith with themselves for the pleasure of 
 electrifying an audience with some unsuspected 
 announcement. This trait is not altogether an 
 unamiable one, as it springs from a certain gre 
 garious instinct, curiosity and the ministering 
 to it being the outgrowth or abuse of human 
 sympathy. 
 
 Margaret twisted a slender thread of gold on 
 her arm, and looked at Rondelet, appealing to 
 his delicate tact to conjure the chill of con 
 straint which had crept over the trio. Mar 
 garet was perhaps a little lacking in the great 
 quality which is sometimes unwisely yclept a 
 virtue. Rondelet possessed it to a remarkable 
 degree, and the young sculptor had grown to 
 look to him for the solution of all the knotty 
 questions of social life which inevitably present 
 themselves to a stranger in all societies. Though 
 he had lived so little of his life in New Or 
 leans, he knew all its traditions and prejudices, 
 and instinctively divined the differing elements 
 which composed it and the best way of treating 
 them. Mrs. Darius Harden was one of the most 
 prominent figures of the circle in which she 
 moved. She had given the following account 
 of herself to Margaret : " My father was a Vir 
 ginian, my mother a New Yorker. I was born 
 in San Francisco, raised in Kentucky, schooled
 
 AT ALA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 105 
 
 in Paris, presented to society in London, courted 
 in St. Petersburg, where Darius Harden followed 
 me, married in Rome, and settled in New Or 
 leans, where I have lived five years, and which I 
 alternately love and curse with equal enthusiasm. 
 For six months in the year I would rather be a 
 cat in Paris than a princess in Louisiana ; for 
 the other six months I believe that New Orleans 
 is the only winter city in the world fit for human 
 beings to live in." 
 
 She had the broadness and the superficiality of 
 those world-citizens who, butterfly-like, suck the 
 honey from every flower in the world's garden, 
 while they shirk the wholesome responsibility of 
 weeding and digging in the patch where their own 
 particular seed happens to have been planted. 
 Her female friends asserted confidently that she 
 had no heart. Most of the men of her acquaint 
 ance accepted the theory, and liked her none the 
 less for believing it. Her genuine good nature, 
 her hearty comradeship, and her comely person 
 sufficed to make her an exceedingly agreeable wo 
 man ; and what right has the world to ask more of 
 its women or its men ? Once that world (which 
 means you and me, reader, as well as our sisters- 
 in-law and fathers' wives) is convinced that one 
 of its people has a heart, it does not rest till it 
 has endowed that heart with some base or hope 
 less passion, for which we must either despise or
 
 106 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 pity it. Mrs. Darius Harden did well, perhaps, 
 not to wear her possible heart upon her sleeve ; 
 and as long as Darius Harden believed in its 
 existence, it mattered little what other people 
 thought about it. Philip Rondelet shared Darius 
 Harden's belief. Her servants and her dogs 
 would have given their testimony in favor of it, 
 had they been asked. 
 
 " Why should we not go to-morrow ? " queried 
 Mrs. Harden. 
 
 " Why, indeed, if Miss Ruysdale is free." 
 
 " Well, Margaret ? " 
 
 " Thank you, it will not be possible. I am afraid 
 papa will be in despair at my neglected work." 
 
 " Now look here, Margaret ; you sharit be 
 counted out. I know it 's because you are mad 
 with me. Now don't be dignified, it 's no use. 
 I can bamboozle your father into going in two 
 twos and a fourteen. General Ruysdale ! " 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Harden ? " The General looked 
 up from his map. 
 
 "I am very anxious to persuade you to join an 
 expedition up the river to-morrow. I want to 
 show you how beautiful the country is there." 
 This with a sudden bewildering smile, a flash of 
 infantine blue eyes, and teeth small and even as 
 the kernels on an ear of young corn. 
 
 " Margaret is so disagreeable," continued the 
 wily persecutor. " She says that she cannot
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. IO/ 
 
 spare you, you, who sacrifice so much for her 
 pleasure. It is strange, is it not, that she can 
 not give up one day for yours ? " 
 
 "What an ingenious statement of the case," 
 murmured Margaret. 
 
 " O woman ! marvellous mixture of dove and 
 serpent, how is a poor helpless, clumsy man to 
 resist you ? " whispered Rondelet. 
 
 " I really am not aware," began the General, 
 looking severely at Margaret, "that my daughter 
 has -any authority to refuse invitations in my 
 name. You may count on me to-morrow, my 
 dear madam, as on all other occasions when I 
 may have the good fortune to enjoy the society 
 of so charming a lady as yourself." 
 
 " Now you have caught it, my dear little 
 groutiness. Serves you just right," whispered 
 the dove and serpent, pinching Margaret's arm 
 under pretence of arranging her dress. "Get 
 along with you, do, till I persuade the pater 
 that it 's absolutely necessary that you should 
 go too." 
 
 Margaret sighed, blushed, laughed, kissed Mrs. 
 Hard en's round red cheek, and followed Ron 
 delet up the companion-way to the deck. 
 
 " I wish I had her spirits," she said as she 
 leaned over the taffrail and watched the swift 
 current sweeping onward toward its grave in 
 the great Gulf.
 
 108 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " She wishes she had your talents." 
 
 " But she speaks four languages ; plays the 
 piano, guitar, banjo, and violin ; writes a good 
 letter; and sings in all the languages she un 
 derstands, and several that she does not . . . 
 These accomplishments are certainly valued in 
 this community above any possible natural gifts." 
 
 " It does not become you, to whom the gods 
 have been so generous, to satirize your less fort 
 unate sisters." 
 
 " They have n't been generous. I have 
 worked, and worked, and worked, that 's all. 
 I don't understand playing at art. A young 
 girl whom I met yesterday told me she was 
 ' very fond of painting in water-colors ; it was 
 such an agreeable pastime.' Pastime ! Shades 
 of Fortuny, pastime indeed ! " 
 
 " It is true that our girls have too many accom 
 plishments, and are little trained to serious work 
 and thought ; but that will come in good time, 
 if it is for the best that it should. I like to see 
 you at your work, you are so splendidly in ear 
 nest. I always come away from you feeling full 
 of a new strength. You have been a living 
 gospel of work to me, Atalanta. How the name 
 suits you, Atalanta from the North. You are 
 fit to outrun all competitors in the life-race." 
 
 He looked at her and sighed. The old legend 
 of Arcadian Atalanta floated through his mind.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 109 
 
 She had been conquered at last. Was he 
 doomed to die in the race for the favor of this 
 Atalanta ? Or would Aphrodite help him, as 
 she had aided Milanion of old ? His sad face, 
 with its beautiful, tender mouth and eyes, grew 
 firm and strong, as an unspoken determination 
 was made, and Margaret moved uneasily a little 
 farther away from the would-be Milanion, whose 
 gray-blue eyes spoke such unspeakable things. 
 She had been a help to him, with her sober, 
 conscientious work, her simple, earnest endeavor 
 to fill the destiny chosen for her. " She does 
 not know," thought Philip, " that such a career 
 to a woman can only be a consolation. Women 
 should only work when they cannot love. She 
 knows nothing of love, and till she loves can 
 know nothing of life." 
 
 " Have I really helped you ? " queried Mar 
 garet, all the chivalry of her nature thrilling at 
 this admission of her strength and his depend 
 ence. To a chivalrous woman and it seems 
 to-day that chivalry has fled from the world, 
 save when it lingers in some woman's breast 
 the dependence of a man is a very dear and 
 sacred thing. It is in this chivalrous spirit that 
 many a noble woman sacrifices her life and heart 
 to some selfish weakling, who appreciates the 
 offering as little as he does her who makes it. 
 More often, I believe, does the powerful woman-
 
 1 10 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 nature supply, all unguessed, the lacking force 
 of a good but weak man, who with this borrowed 
 strength stands firm and upright in his place, 
 unconscious, as is the rest of the world, of the 
 power that keeps him there. That every woman 
 must find her master is less true than that every 
 woman should find her mate. 
 
 Margaret had grown to regard Philip as very 
 dependent upon her, and unconsciously her 
 manner to him had become one of affectionate 
 protection. She had almost lost sight of the 
 quality in him which once had prompted her to 
 say, "There is the stuff of which martyrs are 
 made in Philip Rondelet." And yet, if she had 
 known all the struggles of his daily life, she 
 would not have let the idea slip so easily from 
 her mind. The profession to which Rondelet 
 had been trained was extremely distasteful to 
 him, though he was endowed with unusual ability 
 for it. His father, a well-known surgeon, was 
 conscious of this shrinking from the unsightly 
 details of medical life on the part of his son, 
 and yet was convinced that the rare skill in ope 
 ration, and the quick, sound judgment in diag 
 nosis which he showed, outweighed his natural 
 aversion to all contact with disease. More from 
 a certain indolent dislike of opposing his father's 
 will than from anything else, Philip had em 
 braced the profession of medicine ; but since the
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. Ill 
 
 death of that parent, and his return to his native 
 city, he had given up his practice. 
 
 From the time he had first met the Ruysdales 
 a great change had come over his quiet, aimless 
 life. The outer room of his little suite had been 
 fitted up, poorly but decently, as an office, and 
 below the window where the flowers grew, a new 
 sign had appeared, bearing the name of Dr. 
 Philip Rondelet in gilt letters. He had pro 
 cured some hospital work, and was beginning to 
 have a little practice, principally among a class 
 of people whose reward mainly took the shape 
 of thanks and blessings. One woman, whose 
 child he had brought through a painful illness, 
 told him she should pray for him daily. He ac 
 cepted the prayers, but thought of the colored 
 minister's exhortation about " acts of praise," as 
 distinguished from words. 
 
 The pleasant duty of escorting Miss Ruysdale 
 and Mrs. Harden to their respective homes 
 that afternoon fell to the young physician. He 
 accepted Mrs. Harden's invitation to dinner. 
 When they arrived, they found that Mr. Darius 
 Harden was at home. He usually was at home 
 when he was not at his office. The husband of 
 Mrs. Harden was as different from that lady in 
 every respect as the most ardent advocate of 
 the law of opposites could have desired. Mrs. 
 Harden was fair, plump, practical, and jolly;
 
 112 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 Mr. Harden was dark, thin, meditative, and 
 romantically inclined. She was loquacity per 
 sonified ; he rarely spoke, save in answer to a 
 question. She was brusque, frank, and commu 
 nicative ; he was a walking handbook of deport 
 ment, and mysteriously secretive. She appeared 
 to say everything that came into her head, and 
 was withal as deep as a well ; he weighed his 
 words as if they had been precious stones, and 
 was the most transparent of men. She took 
 life, her husband, men, women, eternity, and the 
 present moment, as a series of jokes ; he took 
 his wife, his business, his pleasures, his politics, 
 his gout, his dinner, and the welfare of his im 
 mortal soul with the same literal seriousness. 
 
 Mrs. Harden never spoke with gravity to her 
 husband ; Mr. Harden never jested with his 
 wife. Unobservant people were apt to commis 
 erate one or other of this strongly contrasted 
 pair; but among their intimates their household 
 was quoted as an exceptionally happy one. It 
 was a fashion of Mrs. Harden's one of those 
 bad fashions which she had picked up in Eu 
 rope to speak of her husband as if he were a 
 necessary evil, to be endured on all social occa 
 sions. In reality, no party of pleasure was com 
 plete to her without the presence of that grave 
 and handsome man. 
 
 Dinner was announced ; and as Mrs. Harden
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 1 13 
 
 passed from the drawing-room she said in an 
 undertone to Philip : " I suppose Darius will 
 have to be of the party to-morrow. In this 
 country, you know, no respectable woman can 
 stir four steps without her lord and master 
 sit here, please, Mr. Rondelet, on my right." 
 She busied herself in helping the soup. There 
 was a pause, first broken by the-hostess : " Darius 
 Harden, my husband " 
 
 " Sara Harden, my wife." 
 
 " I have been a good and faithful helpmate to 
 you all these years ? " 
 
 " To the best of my belief and knowledge, you 
 have." 
 
 "Then what good or just cause can you show 
 for not accompanying me to the Rondelet plan 
 tation to-morrow ? " 
 
 Mr. Harden paused, balanced his soup-spoon 
 meditatively, as if weighing the matter, swallowed 
 his consomme, and said sententiously : " My dear, 
 I am very sorry, but to-morrow I am obliged to 
 attend to some affairs of a very pressing nature." 
 
 " Now, Dart, don't try to bluff me. What is 
 it ? There will be no more business till after 
 Mardi Gras." 
 
 Mr. Harden coughed behind his napkin and 
 glanced obliquely at Rondelet. 
 
 " Now, you old gaberlunzie man, you might 
 as well tell me first as last."
 
 114 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " Indeed, my dear," with an intense look, 
 " there is nothing of any possible interest to you 
 in my engagement to-morrow ; it is quite pro 
 fessional, I assure you." 
 
 " Gaffer Harden, you 're not telling the truth, 
 and you know you 're not ; .and what 's more, 
 you know I know you 're not." 
 
 Mr. Harden shook his head deprecatingly, 
 and said in a soothing voice, " And so Mr. Ron- 
 delet and you have at last arranged your expedi 
 tion. Dear me ! I am exceedingly sorry that 
 I " 
 
 " Don't glare at me like a great grinning 
 gargoyle, gaffer. You are a humbug, a regular 
 ringtailed roarer of a humbug. Wild horses, 
 prancing mules, fiery untamed donkeys would n't 
 keep you from going, and you know it. We 
 must take baskets and provisions and wine and 
 things. You will see all about that. We can't 
 drop down upon your dear old uncle, you know, 
 Mr. Rondelet, without any warning, and expect 
 him to bring a table already spread out of the 
 meadow, like little Two Eyes." 
 
 " I will make all the arrangements, my dear. 
 I only wish I could be of the party. Perhaps I 
 may be able to arrange I may even yet 
 Well, well I will do my best." 
 
 "Gaffer?" 
 
 " My dear ? "
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 11$ 
 
 " Drop it." 
 
 And he did. 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Rondelet, that you have 
 not dined 'here since that night when our dear 
 Ruysdales dined with us for the first time ? " 
 said Mrs. Harden. 
 
 " Is it so long ago ? " queried the guest. 
 
 "Yes. Don't you remember that you were 
 called away before we had been fifteen minutes 
 at the table ? That was the first I had heard 
 of your having resumed your practice or your 
 title. My husband said at the time that it was 
 always a thing to be remembered in inviting 
 medical men to dine, that they are so apt to be 
 sent for. I don't think you ever told us about 
 the case." 
 
 " It was an urgent one, madam, as the mes 
 senger said." 
 
 " There was such an odd message : something 
 about a lady waiting in the carriage," she con 
 tinued, entirely ignoring her husband's warning 
 looks. Philip bowed silently, and emptied his 
 glass. 
 
 " My dear, it is very warm here. Let us 
 adjourn to the library," said Darius Harden, 
 breaking an awkward pause. 
 
 Mrs. Harden rose, and laying her hand on 
 Philip's arm, left the room. At the threshold 
 she gave one significant glance at her husband,
 
 Il6 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 who nodded intelligently, reseated himself, and 
 lit his cigar. 
 
 Passing through the library, Mrs. Harden led 
 the way to the music-room, her own especial 
 sanctum, and seated herself on a low causeuse. 
 " Sit here, opposite me, where I can see you.'' 
 She spoke quite seriously, and despite her 
 turned-up nose and blithe blue eyes she looked 
 very grave. 
 
 " Philippe le bel," she said, addressing him 
 gently, " Philippe, my good fellow, you are in 
 need of a friend. There is no one in this city 
 that you would trust as you trust me. Is it not 
 so ? And there is no one who has your interest 
 more unselfishly at heart." 
 
 " Dear friend, it is true." 
 
 " Then tell me all about it." 
 
 "My lips are sealed, madam." 
 
 " Professional etiquette ? " 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 " But if I knew it all ? " 
 
 " That would make a difference." 
 
 " You know what they are saying about 
 you ? " 
 
 "Something of it." 
 
 " That you could tell more than any one else 
 of the death of Fernand Thoron ? " 
 
 Philip nodded slightly, and silently asked per 
 mission to light a cigarette.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 1 1/ 
 
 " That there was an affair," Rondelet blew 
 a cloud of white vapor from his lips and listened, 
 "in which your friends say you were but a 
 second ; other people how curiously your eyes 
 have dilated ! other people say that you, you 
 killed him." 
 
 Philip inhaled a long breath of smoke, and 
 asked, " And then ? " 
 
 " And then hints about some low woman of 
 color. It was this that first made me know that 
 it was a lie." 
 
 " And why ? " 
 
 " Because, with such a double sin fresh upon 
 your soul, you would not dare to love Margaret 
 Ruysdale." 
 
 For the first time in that strange interview 
 Rondelet changed color. Mrs. Harden con 
 tinued : " I never do things by halves. Once 
 convinced that you were innocent, I was deter 
 mined to know who was guilty of the murder . 
 killing, if you like the word better of Fernand 
 Thoron." 
 
 The cigarette was consumed ; a heap of yel 
 low ashes in a tray being all that was left of it. 
 Rondelet lighted another with a hand that was 
 not quite steady. 
 
 " I think I know who the man is. Will you 
 tell me if I have guessed correctly ? " 
 
 " I cannot."
 
 Il8 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 "Cannot! why?" 
 
 " Cannot, because, before God, I am as 
 ignorant of his name as I am innocent of his 
 crime." 
 
 " Listen, then." 
 
 He bent forward, and she whispered two 
 words in his ear. Rondelet started to his feet 
 with an exclamation. " It cannot be ! " he cried. 
 
 " It is," she answered firmly. 
 
 At this moment the door was thrown open, 
 and some guests were ushered in, holiday 
 guests, masked and hooded monks and nuns 
 of the Carnival. When Mrs. Harden turned 
 from greeting them, Philip was no longer in 
 the room.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IT was cooler outside than in Mrs. Harden's 
 music-room. Rondelet made his way to Canal 
 Street, which was full of life and motion. The 
 sidewalks, the corners, the doorways and win 
 dows of the houses were crowded with people, 
 the steps and railing of the Clay monument 
 black with masses of humanity. From the first 
 stories of the more important buildings tempo 
 rary balconies had been thrown out ; these were 
 crowded with gayly dressed spectators. Below 
 one of them Philip stopped, and, lost in shadow, 
 stood watching the gay group above him. Fans 
 fluttered, ribbons waved, eyes and jewels spark 
 led, and the breeze, perfumed as it passed 
 over the garden of fair women, wafted to his 
 ears the mingled sound of light laughter, of 
 jest, of repartee, of whispered protestations, and 
 of answering sighs. Above in the balcony the 
 men and women of the world were taking their 
 pleasure luxuriously ; below in the street the 
 world of men and women were taking theirs, not 
 the least part of which was the spectacle of the
 
 120 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 rich toilets and lovely faces of the ladies above 
 them. Wit, laughter, gayety, a series of gorgeous 
 pageants, an impassioned pursuit of pleasure, are 
 what a stranger sees at Carnival time in the 
 city by the river ; and should one tell him of the 
 broken fortunes, the life-failures, the apathetic 
 despair and depression which lie beneath this 
 brave mask of jollity, he might well be pardoned 
 for doubting the assertion of the hidden wound, 
 and preferring to believe in the merry mask and 
 in the testimony of his own senses. What is 
 more heroic than a smile that masks a pain ? 
 And so, bravely hoping for better times, and striv 
 ing to bring them about, New Orleans in her 
 poverty, as once in the palmy days of prosperity, 
 holds high revel at this season of pleasure, and 
 hospitably opens her gates to friend and to 
 stranger. 
 
 It is a frank and cordial hospitality, that of the 
 New Orleanists, and one that is not limited to 
 the rich class alone. There seems little of that 
 false pride which shuts the door of the poorer 
 houses because carpets are worn or larders bare. 
 I have been received in a certain shabby little 
 house, with sadly worn furniture and absolutely 
 lacking in bric-a-brac, where the gracious cor 
 diality of my hosts and the atmosphere of good 
 breeding and friendliness of the assembled com 
 pany would have graced a prince's dwelling. It
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 121 
 
 is not disgraceful, nay, it is not even unfashion 
 able, to be poor in Louisiana. 
 
 The sound of approaching music now fell upon 
 Philip's ear, and a pair of mounted officers gal 
 loped through the street crying, " Make room for 
 Comus and his merry crew ! " A stir of excite 
 ment quickens the fluttering of fans and feath 
 ers, and the world's people press forward in their 
 anxiety to catch the first glimpse of the great 
 procession. The boys who have been wrestling 
 for money tossed from the tribunes, scramble up 
 the supports, the lamp-posts, the gutters, where- 
 ever a foot-hold may be had, and the crowd surges 
 with suppressed excitement. A band of music 
 precedes the pageant. It is the same band that a 
 few days before passed through this street to the 
 strains of a funeral march accentuated by muffled 
 drums. Dusky torch-bearers walk on either side 
 of the vast floats, drawn by richly caparisoned 
 horses, led by ebony grooms. On the cars scenes 
 from the mythology of a great Oriental nation 
 are represented. Here we have the Mongolian 
 Olympus, with its gods and goddesses in superb 
 array, reclining in luxurious attitudes before a 
 superb banquet. A war-scene comes next, spir 
 ited and artistic in its grouping. An ice-hell 
 where frosted devils sit among snow and icicles 
 precedes the more familiar hell of fire, where 
 the hoofed and horned demons prod one another
 
 122 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 with appropriate weapons. The difficult poses 
 are maintained with a grace and spirit which 
 do infinite credit to the actors as the cars jolt 
 along over the rough pavement. A youthful 
 goddess, who might be the spirit of the dawn, 
 casts flowers to the ladies in the balcony, and a 
 red rose falls into Margaret's lap. She bows and 
 smiles, and the youth behind the skilfully paint 
 ed mask throws a kiss after the rose, while the 
 people in the street laugh and applaud. 
 
 " Who can it be ? " she asks of the man who 
 stands behind her. 
 
 But even if he knows, Robert Feuardent denies 
 all knowledge of the masker. These merry gen 
 tlemen, keep their identity a secret from the world. 
 The element of mystery adds indeed to the in 
 terest of the whole glittering, fantastic parade as 
 it sweeps down Canal Street and through some 
 of the humbler thoroughfares of the town. Not 
 only for the amusement of their peers do these 
 men of the world masquerade in so brilliant a 
 fashion, but for the people, high and low. The 
 procession has passed, and Philip Rondelet fol 
 lows the wake of the sinuous line of light to its 
 final destination, the Opera-House in the old 
 French quarter. As he reaches the entrance, a 
 carriage stops, and Mrs. Harden, followed by her 
 husband, alights from it. 
 
 " How good of you to wait for us ! " she cried
 
 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 12$ 
 
 vivaciously ; " give me your arm. Dari, have you 
 my fan and cloak ? " 
 
 The wide stairway was lined with flowers and 
 orange-branches heavy with fruit and blossoms. 
 Soft many-hued lights diffused their glamour over 
 the throng of people flooding the Opera-House ; 
 to-night its dingy paint, its faded finery of twenty 
 years ago, are forgotten. The music is as stirring, 
 the company as numerous, the spirits as light, 
 the women as beautiful, as ever they were in the 
 old days of prosperity, when the Opera-House 
 was bright and fresh as paint and paper, tinsel 
 and brocade, could make it. To the eyes which 
 are not dazzled by the sight of so much youth 
 and beauty and jollity, the broken stucco of the 
 mouldings and the faded, musty cushions of the 
 chairs may be visible. These eyes (which ought 
 by good rights to be at home, closed in sober 
 sleep, and not prying into the mould beneath the 
 rose) see other things. They see that the frocks 
 of the fair girls are fashioned of simple fabrics, 
 many of them bearing unmistakable marks of 
 home production ; they see that the jewels on the 
 necks of the matrons are of no great price ; they 
 see that many a dress-coat is shiny in the seams. 
 But to Margaret Ruysdale none of these petty 
 details are evident. She is only aware that she 
 is in a sea of color and light. From the loge 
 where she sits beside Mrs. Harden, her eyes
 
 124 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 wander over the floor where a wonderful congre 
 gation of devils and warriors, dragons, fishes, 
 monsters, knights, and a score of other creatures 
 of the Carnival are dancing a motley quadrille. 
 
 There is a sudden silence, then a murmur of 
 welcome and admiration runs through the crowd. 
 Rex with his fair girl-queen has arrived. The 
 royal pair make their way across the stage to 
 the loge, where seats are prepared for them. The 
 Queen smiles and bows graciously to the people, 
 whose loyal love and admiration she cannot fail 
 to perceive. She is assuredly the fairest queen 
 that sits upon a throne to-day in all this big 
 round world. The jewels 'that sparkle amidst her 
 soft blond curls lose by the contrast ; the rich 
 satin robe that shrinks back from her shoulder 
 looks but a poor fabric beside her creamy skin. 
 Her large blue eyes are full of sunshine, her deli 
 cate, transparent face is suffused with blushes. 
 She is a creature of delight ; not only a carnival 
 queen, but a queen in the hearts of her friends, a 
 fairy in her father's house. Her caressing, child 
 ish manner, to which the most confirmed woman- 
 hater yields, is not laid aside with her every-day 
 dress ; she is to-night a queen of hearts as before, 
 and the list of her conquests will be swelled on 
 the morrow by more than one new victim. So 
 innocently does this fair one win the hearts of 
 men that I doubt if any man was ever brutal
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 12$ 
 
 enough to upbraid her for taking what seems to 
 have been hers by a divine right which it needs 
 no Grotius or Puffendorf to maintain. 
 
 Margaret is so absorbed in watching the en 
 trance of Rex and Regina that she fails to hear 
 a knock on the door of the loge. Philip answers 
 it, and the door is thrown open, revealing a gen 
 tleman clad in silver and green scales, carrying 
 over one arm a long spiral tail. He offers the 
 other arm to Margaret, and she is made to under 
 stand by signs that her presence is desired on the 
 floor. The horrible, grinning countenance of this 
 demon of the deep is belied by his gentle voice 
 as he begs the young tady to accept a bracelet, 
 which he clasps upon her arm, in memory of 
 Comus. It is a light, delicate affair of no great 
 value, but to the New England girl its accept 
 ance seemed impossible. 
 
 " My dear young lady," said the mask, speak 
 ing always in French, " remember that you are 
 not in Massachusetts, but in Louisiana ; and be 
 lieve me, I am quite old enough to be your 
 grandfather." 
 
 " He may have been a truthful demon," Mar 
 garet always said, " but he did not dance like a 
 grandfather." 
 
 It was all very gay and very brilliant ; but the 
 scene jarred on the nerves of Philip Rondelet, 
 who, busy with thoughts unsuited to such an
 
 126 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH.' 
 
 assemblage, soon slipped away unnoticed and 
 took his way home to Jackson Square. The old 
 cathedral, the court-houses, the bronze figure of 
 Jackson on his impossible war-horse were better 
 company to him than that which he had just left. 
 The Pontalba buildings were without sign of 
 life. He lit a match and made his way to his 
 eyry in the roof. As he reached the top floor 
 he thought he saw a figure lying before his door. 
 Bending down, he found it that of a man appar 
 ently asleep. Rondelet shook the sleeper and 
 demanded his business. The man opened his 
 eyes, stared about him, and rose slowly to his feet. 
 He was a rough-looking fellow, and Rondelet 
 touched his revolver to see if it was in order. 
 
 " What do you want with me ? " he asked for 
 a second time. The man nodded ; and after 
 fumbling in his pockets, produced a note from 
 the breast of his shirt, which he handed to the 
 Doctor. 
 
 " Wait here, and I will see if there is any 
 answer," said Philip. 
 
 He entered the room, secured the door, and 
 by the light of the embers on the hearth perused 
 the letter, written in a woman's hand. He read 
 the words carefully, burned the letter, and then, 
 after examining his revolver, left the house in 
 company with the stranger, who was to serve 
 as his guide. They had not far to go. The
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. I2/ 
 
 man stopped before a house in one of the dark 
 est, narrowest streets of the old French quarter. 
 It was a high building of the Spanish time, with 
 light iron balconies at each story, and heavy 
 grated shutters such as the Spaniards love to 
 guard their homes withal. 
 
 A woman was standing on the highest of the 
 galleries. She greeted them silently and disap 
 peared. They entered the wide door, and after 
 traversing a long dark passage and crossing a 
 courtyard filled with the heavy perfume of the 
 sweet-olive and the orange-tree, they ascended an 
 open stairway on the outside of the wall which 
 led to an inner balcony. The window was open, 
 and they entered a large bare room where the 
 woman whc- had signalled them from above stood 
 waiting. For the first time Rondelet saw the 
 face of his guide, and knew it for the face he 
 had seen bending over the grindstone in the lit 
 tle shop. The woman was she who had soothed 
 Therese and begged her to be calm. He under 
 stood now to what patient he had been sum 
 moned. He heard his name called in a loud, 
 fretful voice from an inner room. The woman 
 pushed him toward an open door, and in a mo 
 ment he was beside the sick bed. It was Therese. 
 She Ir.y with her splendid hair heaped about, and 
 her bare, beautiful arms twisted above her head. 
 He touched her burning wrist, looked into her
 
 128 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 feverish eyes, and questioned the woman who 
 stood beside the girl. She was the mother of 
 Therese, and the fellow who had summoned him 
 was her brother and the girl's uncle. Therese 
 had been ill for a week, and had sometimes been 
 out of her mind. That evening she had asked 
 them to send for Rondelet, and had written the 
 few words which her uncle had given him. 
 Therese seemed conscious of his presence, but 
 since calling his name had given him no sign 
 of recognition. Rondelet, whose knowledge of 
 drugs was not confined to those included in the 
 orthodox materia medica, drew from his breast 
 a small phial ; and pouring a few drops into a 
 glass of water, held it to the girl's lips. She 
 drank the potion eagerly ; and its effects were 
 soon to be traced in her quieter breathing, the 
 relaxing of her hands, and the failing of the 
 fever-flush from her face. The mother, with 
 that fondness for all medicines characteristic of 
 her race, asked the name of the potion. 
 
 " It is one that you cannot buy," said Philip. 
 " I learned to prepare it from a wise man of the 
 East, thousands of miles from here." 
 
 The room was large and high, and was 
 furnished with some taste. The appointments 
 of the dressing-table, the fineness of the bed- 
 linen, together with some rare ornaments, were 
 strangely out of keeping with the appearance of
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 129 
 
 the poorly dressed man and woman. On the 
 wall above the bed hung # crucifix of exquisite 
 workmanship. The figure of the Christ, carved 
 from a single piece of ivory, was yellow with 
 age. The ebony cross showed a crack on one 
 of its arms. It may have been the jewel of an 
 antiquarian's collection filched from a church, for 
 such folk dare to steal even such sacred things ; 
 it may have been the consolation of some sin 
 ful sufferer who in the dignity and grace of 
 the dead face found hope and comfort, or it 
 may have ministered to the support of some 
 martyr doomed to die under the torment of the 
 Inquisition of the Holy Catholic Church ; it may 
 have belonged to some cloistered nun, dead to 
 this world and living in that hope of the next 
 which flickers but is not quite extinguished, like 
 the light of a taper in a strong wind. Who 
 ever had fashioned it, whoever had owned it, 
 the crucifix was a gem. To Philip Rondelet, 
 a connoisseur in these matters, it had a strange 
 fascination. As he sat beside the sleeping 
 girl, his eyes fixed on the carved image, it 
 seemed to glow with a warm, mellow light 
 from its dark frame ; the bowed head, with its 
 crown of thorns, seemed to lift itself, and the 
 eyes, unclosing, to gaze mournfully into his own. 
 Had Philip belonged to the Church which be 
 lieves in miracles wrought in the nineteenth 
 9
 
 130 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 century as well as those witnessed in the first, 
 he might have thought that one had been vouch 
 safed for his own especial benefit. As it was, 
 he shook himself and murmured, " I must have 
 been asleep." 
 
 Soon after this, Therese awoke. She recog 
 nized Philip, and motioned to the woman to leave 
 the room. When they were alone she said, " I 
 have sent for you because I feared that I might 
 lose my reason and tell things which I may not 
 speak about. You understand me. Do you think 
 that I shall die ? " 
 
 " No, Therese, you will not die." 
 
 She was silent, and her hand sought some 
 object beneath the pillow. 
 
 " I do not want to live, and yet I am afraid to 
 die. I cannot die till I have kept my word." 
 
 She grasped the thing that was hidden behind 
 her head, and then asked, " Have you seen Jean 
 since ? " 
 
 " Jean ? " 
 
 " Yes, Jean Thoron, his brother." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Is it true that people say you killed him ? " 
 
 Her face contracted with a sudden pain as she 
 said these words, and tears started to her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, Therese ; it is whispered, I believe." 
 
 " You have not been openly accused ? " 
 
 " Not as yet."
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 131 
 
 " You will not be ; they have been bribed. 
 But this rumored accusation is the more damn 
 able because it cannot be disproved." 
 
 " Yes, that is true ; but you must not talk of 
 these things to-night." 
 
 She went on without heeding him : " I must 
 tell you all about it. Listen to me, I shall go mad 
 if I keep it shut up here any longer. My heart 
 is bursting ; my brain is seething with it." 
 
 She tossed restlessly to the other side of the 
 bed, and as she did so the object beneath her 
 pillow slipped to the floor. Rondelet picked it 
 up. It was a dagger of peculiar design. The 
 handle, carved from a solid piece of rock crystal, 
 was studded with rubies and emeralds in an in 
 tricate design ; the blade, double-edged and keen, 
 was stained with a taint of blood. The woman 
 missed it and held out her hand. 
 
 " It is a dangerous weapon for you to handle 
 so recklessly." 
 
 " Give it to me. It was found on him when he 
 was killed. This stain was made by his blood ; 
 but it shall be washed out. I have sworn ! " 
 
 She kissed the spot and hid the dagger in her 
 bosom. Rondelet rose to take his leave ; but she 
 laid her hand upon his arm and besought him 
 not to leave her till she had told him what he 
 must know. It is often better to yield than to 
 resist the freaks of women, of sick women above
 
 132 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 all ; and so it was that Philip Rondelet listened 
 to the story of Therese. It was told with a pas 
 sionate eloquence by the fever-stricken girl lying 
 in her splendid beauty among the pillows, and 
 the tale was interrupted by bursts of tears and 
 paroxysms of exhausting anger. To Philip it 
 seemed as if scene after scene of a drama was 
 being enacted before his eyes as he listened to 
 the torrent of words which poured from her lips. 
 She told him of the life she first remembered in 
 Spain, where her childhood had been passed in a 
 quiet convent, with only the sweet-faced nuns for 
 company and a score of children of her own age. 
 Here she grew to womanhood, and here she saw 
 for the first time the man who had made her life 
 a reality and no longer a pleasant day-dream. 
 She had first seen him through the grated win 
 dow of the convent reception-room as he stood 
 talking to his sister, her playmate and warmest 
 friend. She had known nothing of her home 
 and nothing of her family, except her father, 
 who had placed her at the convent, and to 
 whom she wrote letters at stated intervals under 
 the direction of the Superior. Of her friend's 
 brother, Fernand Thoron, she had often heard, 
 and soon she heard more and more of him ; for 
 she had been seen through the grate even as 
 she had seen through it, and in the presents 
 and letters which found their way to Fernand's
 
 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 133 
 
 sister there was always a gift or a word for her 
 playmate, Therese. She had met him at last, 
 for convent grates and watchful nuns cannot 
 baffle lovers' wits, and he had told her that he 
 loved her, and that when she left the convent 
 she should be his wife. Then there came a 
 happy time of blissful, golden cloud-building, 
 in which all the glorious world seemed to the 
 lovers to be made but for their pleasure and 
 their love. All too short this happy time, 
 soon to give place to dread reality. A letter 
 from her lover told her that she must think of 
 him no more, that he could never see her again. 
 Soon after this came the news of her father's 
 death and instructions calling her to the home 
 which she had never known as hers. The mys 
 tery which had hung about her all her life, 
 and which Fernand Thoron had unravelled, was 
 then explained. She was no child of princely 
 blood, no heir to a disputed title ; nothing but 
 the bastard daughter of an American planter 
 and of a human chattel whom he had called his 
 slave. Chance or a remorseless fate threw her 
 again in the way of Fernand Thoron ; and in that 
 second meeting the love which had been strong 
 and pure enough to nerve the man into flee 
 ing from the maiden who could never be his 
 wife had grown weak and earthly, and they 
 had yielded to its bliss and to its sin. While
 
 134 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 their love was still new and strong, before the 
 chill of the broken law had blended agony with 
 joy, a shadow had crossed their path. A man 
 had striven to put them apart, and in that strife 
 Fernand Thoron had yielded up his young life. 
 Murder, Therese called it, foul, unnatural 
 murder ; and under the shadow of that awful 
 crime Philip Rondelet stood to-day. He should 
 be exonerated ; he who had cared for Fernand 
 in his last hours should not be suspected of hav 
 ing caused his death while his murderer lived 
 free and unchallenged. 
 
 What was that man to her or Fernand that 
 he should have interfered between them ? Philip 
 asked. 
 
 " Nothing to either of them," she answered 
 hotly ; " nothing but an accursed enemy." 
 
 " What was his motive in separating them ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Her answer was incomprehensible to Philip ; 
 it was a very storm of words, spoken rapidly in 
 Spanish, a language with which he had little 
 familiarity. 
 
 " What was the man's name ? " Philip asked 
 in a low, grave voice. 
 
 Therese, putting her burning lips to his ear, 
 whispered a name which he had heard once be 
 fore that evening, the name of a man who called 
 himself his friend.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE rumor had come to Margaret Ruysdale's 
 ears at last, and she believed it. She could 
 hardly have failed to believe it ; the chain of 
 circumstantial evidence, to which she could add 
 some links from her own observation, was so 
 strong and so damning. The summons which 
 called Philip Rondelet from Mrs. Harden's 
 dinner-table on the night which people still 
 believed to have preceded the duel, the strange 
 message that a lady was waiting for him in the 
 carriage, his appearance the next day with his 
 wounded arm in a sling, his melancholy, and the 
 apathetic moods she had first known in him, 
 which had now given place to a more hopeful and 
 elastic frame of mind: these things all pointed 
 conclusively to the fact at which people hinted, 
 that Fernand Thoron had fallen by the hand of 
 Philip Rondelet. It was a great shock to Mar 
 garet ; and for several days she shut herself from 
 the world and refused to see any one. Then, as 
 hers was one of those natures which instinctively 
 turn to work for their consolation, she betook
 
 136 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 herself to her modelling with an impassioned 
 energy. She had neglected her bas-relief, and 
 had been living more in other people and less in 
 herself than ever before. The men and women 
 by whom she found herself surrounded w.ere 
 dangerous rivals to her profession. In her North 
 ern home there were no idle people ; and if she 
 had wished to loiter over the life-path, she would 
 perforce have done so alone. Here she found 
 friends, quick-sympathied and warm-hearted, who 
 had understood her in a week as the old home- 
 friends had never understood her in a lifetime. 
 She was conscious that the difference lay not 
 wholly in the people, but somewhat also in her 
 self. These simpler, warmer-blooded folks, with 
 their pride, their prejudices, their quick anger, 
 their quicker remorse, their deadly feuds and 
 emotional friendships, melted her New England 
 reserve as the April sun thaws the lingering 
 frost from the arbutus-roots in the dim Maine 
 woods. But now the horror at a crime which 
 to her was not lightened by any sanction of 
 custom, threw her back upon herself and her 
 work. Those who spoke about the duel called 
 it "a most unfortunate accident," "a fatal result 
 which, happily, did not often attend such an 
 affair of honor." Men standing in high positions 
 were pointed out to her as having crossed swords 
 beneath the great oaks of the duelling-ground in
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 137 
 
 times gone by. Such affairs were growing rare 
 now, and many people felt differently about 
 them ; but they had their use, no doubt, and 
 society could not be protected without them. 
 Margaret pleaded illness, and for a fortnight 
 saw no visitors and devoted herself to her 
 Atalanta. 
 
 What had she felt for Philip Rondelet, she 
 asked herself a hundred times, ere this great 
 horror of him had settled upon her ? And then 
 she tried to put him from her mind, and for a 
 time succeeded. With an instinctive knowledge 
 of what was best for herself, a knowledge all 
 healthy minded people have in time of trouble, 
 she kept her thoughts and fingers actively em 
 ployed. When she was not in the studio she 
 was reading to her father, teaching General 
 Jackson, or making fantastic decorations for 
 the quaint little dwelling which thenceforth 
 never quite lost the impress of her fancy. The 
 Atalanta came on famously. It was a composi 
 tion of a certain merit and of some originality. 
 She had chosen the moment when Milanion, 
 growing weary in the race and hearing the 
 garments of the Arcadian virgin rustling close 
 behind him, turns and throws down the first 
 golden apple. Atalanta pauses, curious, irreso 
 lute, and the group of huntsmen and maidens 
 look on, amused spectators of the struggle
 
 138 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 between the wily suitor and the light-heeled girl. 
 The figure of the latter was now complete, and 
 there only remained that of Milanion to finish. 
 Robert Feuardent had posed for this figure, and 
 Margaret was loath to finish it from any less 
 perfect model than the handsome Creole. She 
 had not seen him since the great ball, when he 
 appeared early one morning at her studio door. 
 He had brought her an orange-branch, and 
 came and stood silently leaning against the 
 door-post, waiting till she should see him. 
 
 He wore the dress in which he posed for 
 her, a loose blue flannel shirt rolled away 
 from the neck, close-fitting nether garments, 
 and buskins. He must have come at a swift 
 pace, for his breath was short and his face 
 and eyes were glowing with exercise. Over his 
 shoulder he carried the branch of oranges. He 
 stood in a flood of sunshine, which was colder 
 than the light in his deep golden-brown eyes, 
 and he laughed with the glad, free laughter of 
 a savage child when Margaret turned and saw 
 him, and started at the sight. He had never 
 seemed to her so handsome or so winning as 
 now, when he broke through the quiet gray of 
 her work-a-day life as a sunbeam breaks through 
 a dark cloud. A bowl of milk was standing near 
 her ; and taking it silently, she placed it in his 
 hands and stood looking up at him while he
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 139 
 
 drained the vessel at a draught. She was a grace 
 ful little figure in her straight blue apron, very 
 quiet and demure beside the tropical splendor of 
 the young man who had come to pose for her 
 Milanion. When he had quenched his thirst she 
 welcomed him gravely ; and taking the orange- 
 branch from him, fastened it against the wall. 
 
 "You have brought me the golden apples 
 of the Hesperides. I am not ready to model 
 them yet ; they will keep longer than the spirits 
 which make you so fit a subject for my Milanion 
 to-day. It is long since you have been here. 
 Do not tell me of the time or the trouble which 
 has come between ; it is enough you understand 
 that you can serve me only when you are as you 
 are to-day." 
 
 His face was a trifle graver after she had said 
 these words ; but he took the familiar attitude, 
 and his identity was soon lost to Margaret as 
 she became absorbed in her work. She wrought 
 long and steadily. The General came and sat 
 beside her, watching the quick skilful moulding 
 of the clay in her hands, work he would have 
 given all his worldly possessions to be able 
 to do. And later came Mrs. Harden, whom 
 Margaret had not seen since the night of the 
 ball. The excursion to the Rondelet plantation 
 had been postponed indefinitely, and Margaret 
 had managed to avoid Mrs. Harden, as well as
 
 140 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 other friends. The little woman seemed annoyed 
 at finding Feuardent, and after a short visit 
 took her leave, remarking that Margaret had a 
 very disagreeable way of being a sort of stand 
 ing reproach to all idle, harmless people like 
 herself. 
 
 So the morning passed ; and when they had 
 all lunched together, Feuardent proposed that 
 they should make an expedition to Lake Pont- 
 chartrain, dine there, and come home by moon 
 light. Margaret objected a little, but was easily 
 persuaded ; and once in the cars and on the 
 way, gave herself up to the enjoyment of the 
 scenery through which they passed. The road 
 took them through a thick cypress-swamp, where 
 the water stood in pools under the heavy growth 
 of palmettoes and marsh-flowers. The death- 
 moss, running riot everywhere, enwrapped the 
 skeletons of the trees it had lived upon and 
 stifled. Soon this dreary place was left behind, 
 and they emerged upon a broad and pleasant 
 plain, where a narrow bayou twisted its tortuous 
 course through a country without sign of habita 
 tion save where a negro cabin, surrounded by a 
 tiny patch of cultivated ground, broke the level 
 stretch of green. Few pleasure-boats were seen 
 upon the bayou, but a number of small craft, 
 laden with fish and vegetables, made their way 
 toward the city. When the light wind failed
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 141 
 
 to fill the sails, a black-browed dago would leap 
 ashore, and, lashing himself to the tow-rope, would 
 trudge along the bank, singing as he went in a 
 language strange as those rude dialects of Italy 
 from one of which it is derived. A small boat 
 filled with oranges floats by, its guardian, a 
 red-haired mulatto boy, sound asleep, his head 
 resting upon his cargo of fruit. Far off, the 
 white-shell carriage-road follows the winding of 
 the bayou, and between the two thoroughfares 
 lie stretches of swampy land splendid with the 
 royal flowers of France. Nowhere in the world 
 does the flower-de-luce bloom as it does on the 
 plains about New Orleans, splendid dark pur 
 ple masses of it here, and again rows of pure 
 white lilies, with sometimes a blood-red flower, 
 and more often one of pale lavender. The land 
 looks like the royal carpet of the throne of 
 France, with its thick-sprinkled fleur-de-lis, be 
 low which, as beneath that splendid tapestry, lurk 
 many a quagmire and pitfall for the unwary who 
 would strive to grasp at the 'imperial flowers. 
 And now the bayou widens and comes to an 
 end, for they have followed it to the lake into 
 which it flows. On the borders of Pontchartrain 
 are many cool retreats, where in the pleasant 
 spring weather, and later in the burning sum 
 mer-tide, people come from the city and breathe 
 the fresh lake-air, plunge into the cool waters, or 

 
 142 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 ride over the waves in the stanch sailing-craft. 
 Here one may dine pleasantly (and well, if one is 
 an kabittd) on wide galleries or gardens looking 
 out into the sunset-land beyond the lake. In 
 the gardens are a few very tame wild beasts, 
 and a pelican too well provided with fish and 
 promiscuous victuals to be ever put to the pain 
 ful extremity in which it is depicted on all the 
 official insignia of Louisiana. Here are alliga 
 tors, immeasurably old and hideous, which have 
 to be fiercely prodded with long poles, provided 
 for this emergency, to induce them to feed on 
 pieces of raw meat which the unwary visitor 
 pays for. 
 
 And all these things Margaret saw and en 
 joyed a little : but it was not with her as it had 
 been on the day of the fete ; and Robert knew 
 that this was so, and yet feared to ask the rea 
 son of the change. The General followed them 
 about, and examined the ancient fort, whose 
 remains are included in this pleasure-ground. 
 Later, dinner was served, and there was music 
 in the garden ; but Margaret hardly heeded it 
 for listening to a tale Robert Feuardent was 
 telling her of the six tall slim trees which faced 
 each other in a double row within a few yards of 
 the place where they were sitting. These trees 
 mark the graves of six young men of gentle 
 degree who in the old time, when the fort was
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 143 
 
 no pleasure-ground, but a grim war-station, fell 
 to fencing with each other one day for lack of 
 other pastime. The contest, begun in sport, 
 waxed earnest, and finally angry ; and when the 
 sun that had seen the six companions in friendly 
 intercourse sank to its grave, it looked upon six 
 ghastly corpses lying on the spot now marked 
 by as many memorial trees. 
 
 " Let us come away," cried Margaret, as Feu- 
 ardent, in a low voice not untouched with awe, 
 finished his narrative. " I will not stay in such 
 an unhallowed place. Why did you bring me 
 here ? Why did you tell me this dreadful story ? 
 What have you or I to do with murder and 
 death ? " 
 
 "Who can escape contact with death?" an 
 swered Feuardent gloomily. " And why should 
 you shrink from hearing such a story merely 
 because you are a woman ? Is it not for you 
 women that these things are done ? Strife comes 
 with you wherever you go, and men who have 
 been as brothers become murderers, in deed or 
 in thought, for your sakes. You may not hear 
 a rough word, you grow sick at the sight of 
 blood ; and yet the blackest crimes that the 
 heart of man conceives of are committed through 
 your influence, for your sake." 
 
 " Is it for women that these things are done, 
 or for the selfish desires of men that are centred
 
 144 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 in them ? " It was General Ruysdale who 
 spoke. 
 
 " I cannot tell," said Margaret, " I think that 
 I know nothing of men ; and if they are as you 
 describe them, I am glad that I do not." 
 
 " And why should you hold yourself aloof 
 from sinful men because you, in your ignorance 
 of evil, cannot understand the crimes into which 
 they fall ? If you should learn that your brother 
 or your friend had committed the crime of Cain, 
 which you assume to be an unpardonable one, 
 would not that man still be your brother, your 
 friend ? " 
 
 " No ; for he would no longer be the man I 
 had loved, but a stranger." 
 
 " You would put him from your heart ? You 
 would deny him your love ? " 
 
 " He would have killed it with the selfsame 
 blow that sought his brother's life." 
 
 The words came slowly, and Feuardent saw 
 that her hands griped each other painfully and 
 that her face was very white and set ; and then 
 without looking at her he read her thoughts, 
 half consciously, as he had done so many times 
 since that day at the fete when they had danced 
 that mad dance together ; and when he knew 
 what was in her mind, he started to his feet, 
 stifling a groan that had risen to his lips, and 
 left her without a word.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 145 
 
 He came to her the next day, and the next, and 
 every day ; and as the weeks went by, and the 
 Atalanta was almost complete, Margaret's laugh 
 was heard again, though more rarely than before. 
 Her voice had grown a trifle deeper and less like 
 the cool babbling of running water than it had 
 been when Philip Rondelet had first known her. 
 Philip was not there to mark the change, for 
 on the very day after his visit to Therese he 
 had been summoned to his home in the coun 
 try, where his sister lay desperately ill, and in 
 the life-struggle through which he remained at 
 her side he had no moment to return to New 
 Orleans to seek the girl whose image filled his 
 dreams by day as well as by night. He did not 
 write to her, for the only thing he could have said 
 he had not yet the right to say. Mrs. Harden 
 had left New Orleans when Mardi Gras was 
 past, and there was no one to speak about Ron 
 delet to Margaret, who was putting him more 
 and more from her mind as the days went by. 
 Robert Feuardent, who had been his friend from 
 childhood, never mentioned Philip's name to the 
 young sculptor, and so things went on till the 
 time of the roses was come. 
 
 The passage of the seasons in that fair southern 
 land is marked by the blossoming of its flowers. 
 The glory of the roses was over all the city. 
 In the gardens of the great houses the queen
 
 146 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 of flowers bloomed sedate and perfect on trellis 
 and tree ; over the more modest dwellings the 
 blossoms cast their wonderful beauty ; and from 
 the neglected garden patches about the hovels 
 of the poorest denizens of the city, roses, red and 
 white and yellow, bloomed in a wild luxuriance. 
 Early in the mornings, before the dew was dry 
 upon the flower petals, Margaret was wont to 
 seek a garden where she was privileged to pluck 
 roses till her thirst for them was satisfied and 
 her arms became weary with the weight of the 
 sweet burden ; and here it was that Robert 
 found her on the very day that Philip Rondelet 
 came back to the city he had left two months 
 before. Here he found her, and here they 
 walked and talked together among the roses ; 
 and here Philip saw them as he passed on his 
 way to Jackson Square, and at the sight of them 
 turned white and faint, and leaned against the 
 railing for a minute, and then went on his way 
 wearily.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ROBERT FEUARDENT had not seen his friend 
 Philip as he walked in the garden with the wo 
 man they both loved, and yet his mind was full 
 of him that morning. After leaving Margaret, 
 he took his way to Jackson Square, looking up 
 as he passed at the windows of his friend's room 
 to see if there were any sign of his return. All 
 was as usual. The flowers bloomed serenely 
 under the shadow of the eaves, and through the 
 open window he caught the sparkle of the tiny 
 fountain playing in the aviary. Presently the 
 sash was raised, and the flowers were watered 
 by a careful hand. Philip had returned. Instead 
 of seeking out his old friend, as in other days he 
 would have done, Robert turned hastily away and 
 crossed the square. The door of the cathedral 
 stood ajar, and he saw the priest .at the altar 
 celebrating the Mass. He entered the sanctuary 
 and murmured the prayer which had not crossed 
 his lips for many months. It was a prayer of 
 words only ; and presently he arose and left the 
 church with the burden he had brought with him
 
 148 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 still upon his conscience. At the porch he stopped 
 to touch the holy water ; but as he would have 
 dipped his hand in the vessel, it was struck aside, 
 and a voice whispered in his ear words at which 
 his arm dropped by his side, and without a glance 
 at the veiled woman who had challenged his right 
 to the sacred water, he hurried from the church. 
 He had been grievously at fault, and the sin upon 
 which he had shut his eyes was to-day held up 
 before him by an accusing conscience which 
 had slept, alas ! until he found himself confronted 
 with the man whom he had wronged. His friend 
 Philip Rondelet had been suspected of a crime 
 of which he knew him to be innocent, a crime 
 of which Rondelet might never have heard had 
 it not been for himself. For on that night when 
 the young physician had been summoned to the 
 deathbed of Fernand Thoron, his own name had 
 been the guaranty of good faith which had se 
 cured Philip's attendance. How had he kept 
 that good faith ? Philip had not only been sus 
 pected of having killed Thoron by the sceptical 
 gossips of the club-houses, but even by the wo 
 man he loved; and Robert, knowing this, had 
 been silent, and had striven to win her love for 
 himself while his friend was absent. A grievous 
 sin, indeed ; and yet he knew in his heart that 
 had not Philip come back that day, he would 
 have persisted in it. What would happen now ?
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 149 
 
 He did not know, he did not care, except for 
 the thought that he might appear a craven in 
 Margaret's eyes. Philip had been too noble to 
 speak, and he had been base enough to hold 
 his peace ! Fool that he had been, and worse 
 than fool ! So he raved and cursed his folly, 
 and for days together shut himself in his own 
 house and saw no one. 
 
 Robert Feuardent was of pure Creole descent. 
 His grandfather, who had come to Louisiana 
 when a child, had married a Frenchwoman, and 
 his father had taken to wife an Andalusian 
 girl. It was from his mother that Robert in 
 herited his beauty ; and there was much in his 
 nature that recalled that parent, whom he could 
 barely remember. His father had been a rich 
 man before the war, 'and unlike the majority of 
 his fellow-citizens, had retained a part of his 
 fortune after peace had been established. He 
 had, to be sure, declared himself an enemy of 
 the United States Government, and thus given 
 up all his property in the State of Louisiana 
 to confiscation, and he had received a small 
 document, duly signed by the city marshal, at 
 testing this act of what shall we call it, devo 
 tion, or folly ? A little of both, perhaps. To 
 be sure, the only alternative was the oath of 
 allegiance to a government he had given four 
 years of his life and a large portion of his
 
 150 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 fortune to overthrow. It was a hard alterna 
 tive, surely, in that time of bitterness and agony, 
 happily passed now, and almost forgotten, 
 and who shall say that of the two conditions he 
 did not choose the least humiliating ? An es 
 tate in Spain, which he inherited from his wife, 
 made Mr. Feuardent seem still a rich man among 
 those whose all had been invested in a property 
 suddenly declared to be no longer Merchandise, 
 but Man. Robert's father was only lately dead, 
 and from him the young man had inherited 
 a house in the older quarter of the city and an 
 income large enough to allow him to be idle 
 when he chose. He was known to be in some 
 way interested in the sugar business ; and though 
 the interest was a languid one, it kept him linked 
 with the affairs of the community in which he 
 dwelt. The young Creole was a person of lit 
 tle education, but of high breeding. For such 
 training as he had received he was indebted to a 
 Jesuit college, in which he had learned and for 
 gotten the things which one may learn in such 
 an institution. He was an authority, however, 
 on certain subjects to which he had given much 
 time and thought; No one could guide you to 
 such good fishing-ground on the edges of Pont- 
 chartrain, or in the bend of a quiet bayou, as he 
 could. He was the best shot among the sports 
 men of the place, and was indefatigable in hunt-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 151 
 
 ing. He could handle his light sail-boat on the 
 squally, treacherous waters of the lake with that 
 instinctive skill of the natural sailor which can 
 never be acquired. He rode and swam as he 
 danced and sang, because it was in his nature to 
 do so perfectly and without effort. It had been 
 his habit from his early youth to pass several 
 months of each year in a region still inhabited 
 by the remnants of an Indian tribe. At first he 
 had been placed under the care of a missionary 
 priest during these long absences from the city ; 
 but later he had built himself a wigwam near the 
 camp of the friendly red-men, and had lived their 
 life, hunted and fished with them, smoked his 
 pipe in their company, and listened to their tra 
 ditions and stories.. In his turn he told them of 
 the city and the wonderful things it held. He 
 was known among the tribe as the white brother, 
 and was loved and revered by them as a true and 
 loyal friend. In his trouble his mind turned as 
 it had so often done to his forest friends ; but 
 though he longed for the peace and rest of the 
 woods, he could not leave New Orleans. 
 
 Feuardent had already been in love once, 
 twice, perhaps a dozen times in his life, more 
 or less, for his blood was very warm and full of 
 sunshine ; but he had never felt for any woman 
 what he felt for the pale young Northern girl, 
 with her quiet cool eyes, which had once or
 
 152 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 twice flashed such fire into his own. The buoy 
 ant exaltation which he had known in other 
 affections was not his now ; it was a love that 
 brought infinite pain and distrust of himself. 
 He who had always secretly felt a certain supe 
 riority over his fellows, masked by a real friend 
 liness and good-will, was now keenly alive to all 
 his own shortcomings. He had taken to read 
 ing books which he found it very difficult to 
 understand, and fell to talking about those things 
 which interested Margaret with a lamentable 
 want of success. He haunted the shops where 
 prints of the great European works of art were 
 to be seen. He bought handbooks of art and 
 cultivated the society of an old school-friend, an 
 obscure artist little esteemed by him hitherto 
 on account of his trifling profession and puny 
 strength. All this to please a girl who called 
 him a savage, and only cared to see him when he 
 was in full health and spirits! They had failed 
 him sadly of late, these irrepressible spirits, and 
 the heavy arches of his brow were often lifted 
 into a frown, while the eyes had grown darker 
 and less full of light and joy than they had been 
 before this grievous love had come to vex his 
 heart. He was missed from his wonted haunts, 
 and one evening a group of friends sought him 
 out at his house. They would take no denial 
 from his servant, and finally forced themselves
 
 ATALANTA IN THE- SOUTH. 153 
 
 into the room where he was sitting, despondent 
 and alone. He greeted them, and asked moodily 
 what their pleasure was. He was their pleasure, 
 they answered, and a very black-looking pleasure 
 he was too. Where had he kept himself ? Was 
 he ill ? Had he lost money ? Did he want to 
 borrow it ? Was he going into a fit of melan 
 cholia ? Was he in love ? Or was he purely 
 and simply bilious ? 
 
 " It 's a case of conscience," said one of the 
 guests ; " it has suddenly bloomed, late in life, 
 and Robert is beginning to feel for the first 
 time the pangs which have tormented my entire 
 existence. Is n't that about the case, old man ? 
 I have heard him declare, fellows, a hundred 
 times, that he did n't know what the word ' con 
 science ' meant. If he did a wrong thing, he did 
 it with his eyes open, and took the consequences, 
 but never regretted it. He looks to me as if 
 his conscience had struck in." 
 
 " No," said another, who was busying himself 
 with opening the wine which had been brought 
 in ; " no, it is n't conscience, it 's too much read 
 ing. Why, look, this is a dictionary, and here is 
 a book of poems, De Musset, mon Dieu ! and 
 Shakspeare ! Too much learning has made him 
 mad. It was high time we came and tracked 
 him to this unhealthy and unwonted lair of 
 erudition. Glasses ready ? it' s going to pop."
 
 154 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 The last speaker was a young Parisian who 
 had drifted to New Orleans that winter with a 
 portmanteau of faultlessly fitting clothes, a choice 
 selection of the last bons mots of the clubs, and 
 the latest slang of the boulevards of Paris. Add 
 to this a handsome but minute figure and face, a 
 complexion snow white and rose red, the title 
 of an old and honorable family, the manners of 
 a prince of the blood, and you have Bouton de 
 Rose, the great social success of the season. He 
 was bright withal and well born, only it was 
 best for him to be out of France for a year or 
 two; and so New Orleans welcomed him with 
 open arms, and repeated his stories, copied the 
 cut of his hair, and tried to sharpen up its 
 French and make it sound like his crisp Parisian 
 dialect. In spite of the efforts of some of the 
 most distinguished of the Creoles, the French of 
 Louisiana has grown flat and broad ; the delicate 
 edge of the language has been blunted by the 
 heavier Saxon tongue with which it is hourly 
 brought in closer contact. 
 
 Glasses were filled, and the company drank 
 to the restoration of Feuardent's health and 
 spirits, Bouton de Rose making a speech, gra 
 cious and sparkling as the wine he raised to 
 his lips. Robert, confused and shy, said a few 
 words in response, and the conversation soon 
 became general. The contagious merriment of
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 155 
 
 the youthful company and the mellowing influ 
 ence of the wine soon had its effect on the taci 
 turn host, whose superb physique and inflammable 
 spirits could not long resist the combined influ 
 ence of good company and good cheer. Music 
 was called for, and Feuardent lifted up his great 
 voice, deep and true as a crystal chime, and 
 sang quaint songs in the Creole dialect. Then 
 he gave them an Indian war-dance and song, 
 which were received with great applause, espe 
 cially by Bouton de Rose, who promised to 
 make a sensation with the war-dance in Paris 
 when he should return thither. He had just 
 received a letter from "that city, and read them 
 all the latest gossip about the new danseuse at 
 the Palais Royal and the last amour of the bouffe 
 actress who was at that time the idol of Paris ; 
 who paid for Madame A.'s diamonds, and why 
 Mile. B.'s marriage was postponed ; what the 
 odds were in favor of the American at the 
 Grand Prix ; and last of all the latest proclama 
 tion of the Nationalists, and what the outlook 
 was for the elections. 
 
 A political discussion ensued, under the cover 
 of which Feuardent drew aside one of his guests, 
 Archie Nelson, the artist who had once been 
 his schoolfellow. The host evidently had some 
 thing on his mind, the utterance of which em 
 barrassed him, for he pulled at his mustache
 
 156 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 fiercely, and frowned down upon the painter, 
 who waited, wondering what Robert could have 
 to say to him. 
 
 " Archie," he said at last, dropping his voice 
 to a whisper, " what do you know about Ata- 
 lanta ? " 
 
 "Atlanta ? Why, it's the capital of Georgia, 
 man," answered the artist promptly. " Popula- 
 lation thousand, founded in by , chiefly 
 important from the fact of its being a great rail 
 road centre. It is also widely known from its 
 introduction in a popular Yankee war-song, 
 
 " ' So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea.' 
 
 The girls are pretty, and the business interests 
 have been looking up lately. That 's all I know 
 about the place. Do you think of settling 
 there ? " 
 
 " No, no ; it has n't anything to do with the 
 city," objected Robert ; " it "s somebody in his 
 tory, I fancy, some girl who ran races and always 
 won them." 
 
 " Female pedestrian, eh ? I begin to under 
 stand you. Don't happen to remember if she 
 was a Roman lady, or a Sabine girl, or an 
 Amazon ? " asked the artist. 
 
 " No, but you ought to know," said Robert 
 reproachfully. " I have seen her represented 
 in a work of art," he continued. " She car-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 157 
 
 ried a bow and arrows, and was very fond of 
 oranges." 
 
 " Well, what else ? Is her drapery Roman, or 
 Greek ? Describe her dress, or does n't she 
 wear any ? " queried Archie. 
 
 " Of course she does," responded Robert se 
 verely ; " she has on a short skirt to the knee, 
 gaiters, buskins I believe they call them, 
 a loose vest, and a wreath of leaves on her head." 
 
 " Atalanta you are sure she is historical ? " 
 asked the painter, rubbing his forehead as if to 
 extract the required knowledge from his cranium 
 by means of friction. 
 
 " No, no no," confessed Robert, " I am not 
 sure, but I have that impression. I thought you 
 would know, Archie. What do you painter fel 
 lows know if you don't know about people in 
 pictures ? It 's your business to know." 
 
 The artist was nettled. In all matters of 
 classic and historic lore he had posed with the 
 simple-minded Robert as an authority, though 
 why, as he afterward said to himself, he should 
 be expected to be a peripatetic classical dic 
 tionary just because he painted landscapes for 
 a living, was a mystery. 
 
 " What are you talking about ? " asked one of 
 the guests. " If Feuardent has been confiding 
 the source of his woes to Archie Nelson, we will 
 get the matter out of him if we have to shake
 
 158 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 it out by tossing him in a blanket, won't we, 
 fellows ? " 
 
 " No, don't ; it is n't necessary," cried the 
 painter ; " Feuardent 's been giving me an 
 order." 
 
 " What subject ? " inquired Bouton de Rose, 
 a connoisseur in pictures and himself something 
 of a painter. 
 
 " A nocturne in blue, a study of himself 
 in water-colors as he looked when we came in 
 to-night, to be presented to the Anti-Prohi 
 bition Society as an awful warning against 
 teetotalism." 
 
 Cards were next proposed ; and the play was 
 growing serious when Bouton de Rose started 
 from the table, threw down his cards, and re 
 fused to play any longer. For explanation he 
 turned an empty pocket wrong side out ; and 
 throwing open the window, bade the company 
 look out on the night they were wasting in each 
 other's society. " To find oneself in the com 
 pany of men on such a night is a crime against 
 the fair sex," he said. The moonlight streamed 
 into the room ; and leaning from the window, 
 Feuardent caught sight of a figure in the court 
 yard below. It vanished immediately, but not 
 until he had recognized it as that of a woman 
 a tall woman and a young one, judging by the 
 light step with which she sprang back into the
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 159 
 
 shadow. Bouton de Rose suggested that they 
 should take a stroll together, and the half-dozen 
 companions took their way down toward the 
 levee. The streets were still full of people, al 
 though it was very late. They found the levee 
 alive with men unloading a vast cotton-steamer 
 lying at the dock. The whole place was lit up 
 by electric light, and the strong rays showed the 
 dusky workmen as they rolled the heavy cot 
 ton bales ashore. Two by two, the men came 
 pushing the great crates before them over the 
 gang-plank to the levee, and darting back again 
 for a new burden. The river, quiet and re 
 morseless in its strength, flowed past steadily 
 and swiftly. Woe to the man who should lose 
 his footing on that slippery plank and fall into 
 the tawny waters ! No possible rescue for him, 
 nothing but a long swooning agony as he would 
 be swept like a straw down the current, and 
 finally a horrible death by drowning when his 
 little strength should have spent itself in strug 
 gling with the mighty waters. The fancy struck 
 Feuardent that the senseless branch whirled 
 along in the swift current at the mercy of the 
 Mississippi might as easily be himself if by 
 chance he should lose his footing and fall just 
 there where the current was strongest. If he 
 should slip and fall, or if some one should push 
 him from behind
 
 160 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " Come, mon brave ! " cried Bouton de Rose, 
 clapping him on the shoulder and drawing him 
 back from the edge of the levee, " you are 
 leaning perilously near that devil of a river. 
 You look as if you were about to leap into 
 the flood. Are you asleep, or bewitched ? Upon 
 my soul, it looks to me as if a vondou spell were 
 on you ; your eyes are starting out of your 
 head ! Has some witch willed that you should 
 take a sudden passage to the Gulf via the 
 river ? " 
 
 Feuardent laughed uneasily, linked his arm in 
 the young Parisian's, and after lighting a cigar 
 ette turned away from the levee. His voice was 
 not heard in the chorus which the young men 
 chanted as they took their way through the 
 deserted business streets of the town, and when 
 the youngest of the party proposed to serenade 
 a lady of wide histrionic reputation then stop 
 ping in New Orleans, he begged to be excused 
 on the plea of indisposition. 
 
 When he reached his room he poured out a 
 full glass of wine and drank it at a draught. A 
 chill had crept over him ; lighting a fire, he sat 
 beside the hearth, smoking, and staring into 
 the flames with great unseeing eyes. When 
 the morning light began to sift through the 
 shutters, he extinguished the lamp and went 
 to bed.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. l6l 
 
 Then, and not till then, a shadow, which 
 had not been distant from him a hundred feet 
 that whole night, slipped from the courtyard of 
 the house, and with the rising of the sun was 
 gone.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SARA HARDEN on her return to town was 
 genuinely glad to see Margaret Ruysdale again. 
 She had become attached to the lonely young 
 girl who had grown to womanhood without a 
 mother or a sister and with next to no feminine 
 influence in her life, her father and his friends 
 having always been her most intimate asso 
 ciates. It was to this fact that Sara Harden 
 attributed the serious character of her friend. 
 " If I ever have a daughter," she had said, " I 
 shall bring her up just as Margaret has been 
 brought up. She shall never speak to a woman 
 if I can help it. Women make one another 
 silly. We drop in to see each other, and spend 
 the morning wasting each other's time in talking 
 gossip and ball-dresses, servants and teething- 
 babies. We don't dare to talk to men like that ; 
 they would n't stand it. We discuss things 
 worth thinking about with them. But with our 
 sisters we feel bound to limit ourselves to the 
 useful sphere of domesticity, and it does n't do 
 us any good. Do you think I would use white
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH, 163 
 
 sugar instead of brown to put up my sweet- 
 pickles, because every time I see my next-door 
 neighbor she advises me to do so, and has ad 
 vised me to for the last five years ? In house 
 keeping, as in every other matter in life, you 
 can only learn by burning your fingers. I think 
 women were never meant to associate with each 
 other. They are too narrow ; and they go on 
 making each other smaller and smaller, instead 
 of getting broader and stronger by contact with 
 great coarse-grained men. Go to ! I do not 
 consider them advantageous or proper associ 
 ates. I might have amounted to something 
 myself if I had n't been blighted early in life 
 by five sisters and four aunts." 
 
 "But Sara," objected her friend, "see how 
 differently men treat you ! They all fall in love 
 with you, and you can twist them around your 
 little finger, even papa. You can make him 
 do whatever you like. I don't know how to 
 manage them at all, though I have lived among 
 them all my life. It 's a penalty you would not 
 like to pay to have men treat you as if you were 
 one of themselves." 
 
 "O thou littlest humbug! How about cer 
 tain young Creoles with big eyes, not to mention 
 my own ewe-lamb Philip, which thou hast calmly 
 taken from me without even a ' by your leave ' ? 
 Lies, all lies ! "
 
 1 64 ATALAA'TA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 Margaret had passed her childhood and early 
 youth in Woodbridge, the quiet New England 
 town where the Ruysdales had lived, father and 
 son, ever since the old original Ruysdale left the 
 Dutch colony of Manhattan and took to him 
 self a daughter of the Puritans, a century and 
 a half ago. When Margaret was barely sixteen 
 her father had taken her to Europe, where, for 
 the next four years of her life, she had devoted 
 herself it would be nearer the truth to say 
 that she had been devoted to her art. Her 
 artistic education had begun when she was 
 scarcely out of her babyhood. She had worked 
 so arduously that there had been little time in 
 her life for society ; and so it had come about 
 that though she had been thrown almost exclu 
 sively with men, her relations with them had 
 had little personality. Flirtation that rock on 
 which many an American girl's heart and life 
 are splintered into a myriad pieces was known 
 to her by observation only. The hours and years, 
 the talents and force, which so many of our 
 young girls evaporate in that futile and unsatis 
 factory pursuit, had been devoted by Margaret 
 to her art. It is not likely that this singleness 
 of purpose could have developed itself so early 
 in her had it not been for the strong influence 
 of her father, who had wellnigh absorbed her 
 life in his own. He had treated her, ever since
 
 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 165 
 
 she could remember, as his comrade and equal, 
 talking and reading with her on the subjects 
 which interested him, and on which he willed 
 that she should concentrate her own powers of 
 thought. He had thus robbed his child of her 
 childhood, a grave error, and not an uncom 
 mon one with fathers. A boy's boyhood is too 
 vigorous a thing to be balked of its bent ; but 
 the nature of a little girl is a wonderfully pliable 
 and soft material, out of which a self-centred man 
 may easily shape a careful child-woman for his 
 companion. Margaret had not been without 
 suitors, for the comfortable fortune she had in 
 herited from her mother had more than once 
 given her the opportunity of making an advan 
 tageous European match. She had not been 
 without admirers, for her charm of manner, her 
 grace, her fresh sweet face, and her lithe strong 
 figure were attractions which had not failed to 
 make themselves felt. But of lovers she was 
 as ignorant as of the inhabitants of Mars. She 
 knew quite well how to make men welcome at 
 her father's table, how to put them at their 
 ease if they happened to be shy, how to make 
 her drawing-room pleasant and homelike to the 
 homeless ones ; but here her knowledge of them 
 stopped. 
 
 Mrs. Sara Harden was in all respects the 
 opposite of her young friend, and had borne the
 
 1 66 AT ALA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 reputation of being a flirt of the most dangerous 
 character before her marriage. Since that time 
 she had somewhat kept up the appearance of 
 the same thing with men whose relations to her 
 were of the most innocent and friendly nature. 
 It was another of those bad European notions of 
 hers, that a woman must have many admirers if 
 she desires to keep alive her husband's devotion 
 to her. They interested each other, Margaret 
 and Mrs. Harden, because their lives and ex 
 periences had been so entirely unlike ; and so 
 they kissed at meeting after Mrs. Harden's long 
 absence, and the kiss, so often a foolish form 
 between women, expressed a cordial good-will 
 and pleasure at seeing one another again. Mar 
 garet and her father had come to Mrs. Harden's 
 house and had found that good lady sitting 
 in her garden, watching a game of lawn-tennis 
 between her husband and Robert Feuardent. 
 
 " We are very glad you have come back, Mrs. 
 Harden, for we are thinking of flitting north 
 ward in these days, are we not, Margaret?" 
 said the General, watching his daughter as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Are we, papa?" Margaret answered, with 
 an unsuccessful effort to appear indifferent. " I 
 did not know it. I should be sorry to go just 
 now ; it is so beautiful here." 
 
 " Yes ; but the intense heat may begin any
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 1 67 
 
 day, may it not, Mrs. Harden ? Look at that 
 flock of cranes flying northwards. Should we 
 not take warning by them ? " 
 
 Margaret looked in the direction indicated by 
 her father. A vast letter V was outlined in the 
 sky by a flight of cranes, which looked as small 
 from their great distance as those on a Japanese 
 fan, although their curious harsh cry was dis 
 tinctly audible. 
 
 " No, it will not be hot for some time to come," 
 said Mrs. Harden, " it will be as it is to-day for 
 a month longer ; you must not think of leaving 
 us just yet, General." This with a tender, de 
 precating smile, which warmed up the harmless 
 vanity of the unwary General to a melting-point. 
 
 The game of tennis being ended, Robert Feu- 
 ardent leaped over the net, and, racket in hand, 
 seated himself at Margaret's feet at a little dis 
 tance from the others. He had denied himself 
 the sight of her since that morning in the gar 
 den, through some idea of atonement to Philip. 
 All the glad blood rushed to his face as he 
 looked into her eyes and saw that she was still 
 friendly and glad to see him. 
 
 " When may I come again to you ? It is a life 
 time since I have seen you. I have missed you 
 so terribly. Do you know what it is to miss a 
 person as I .have missed you ? " he said. 
 
 " How can I tell ? I have certainly wanted to
 
 1 68 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 see you very much. I have not done any work 
 while you have stayed away, and now my father 
 speaks of going home; I fear I shall never finish 
 my Milanion." 
 
 " You only wanted your model, then ; you did 
 not care to see me ? " 
 
 " But you are my model." 
 
 "Yes, and something else besides. Shall I 
 tell you what?" 
 
 The twilight had fallen on them, and through 
 the open door of the drawing-room streamed a 
 bright light, showing the face of a man who at 
 that moment advanced toward Mrs. Harden. It 
 was Philip Rondelet. 
 
 " I am so glad you have come, Dr. Rondelet," 
 said Sara, rising to greet him ; " I have been 
 wanting to see you ever since my return. Here 
 are some friends of yours, Margaret, Mr. Feu- 
 ardent. General Ruysdale and Darius have just 
 gone inside." 
 
 Margaret, grown white and trembling, rose, 
 and in the dimness either did not or feigned not 
 to see the hand Philip held out to her. Bowing 
 slightly to Feuardent, he took his place at Mrs. 
 Harden's side. 
 
 " You have seen Miss Ruysdale, of course, 
 since you got back," she whispered. 
 
 " I have not had the good fortune to find her 
 at home," answered Philip.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 169 
 
 "And has this sort of thing been going on ? " 
 
 " Evidently." 
 
 " And you have not spoken ? " said Mrs. 
 Harden. " You carry your Quixotic ideas too 
 far. Thank Heaven ! I am a woman, and will 
 not sit still and see a crying shame like this. 
 Honor ! I believe in honor only where it is 
 due." 
 
 "There would be little of it in the world, 
 madam," answered Philip, " if we all felt as 
 you say you do." 
 
 " Shall we go inside ? This is more than 
 flesh and blood can endure. I am going to 
 insult that man in my own house, a thing I 
 have never done in all my life before." 
 
 Mrs. Harden rose, and with a heightened 
 color and in freezing tones said, " Mr. Feuar- 
 dent, you will excuse me, I am sure ; but these 
 friends of mine are going to do me the honor 
 of dining with me, and as we are going out 
 afterward " 
 
 " Madam," said Robert, starting to his feet, 
 " it is I who should apologize for intruding so 
 long upon your hospitality. I wish you good 
 evening." 
 
 He was gone, and Sara Harden was left to 
 get through her dinner-party as best she could. 
 " It was not what might be called a cheering 
 repast," as Mrs. Harden afterward remarked to
 
 I/O ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 her husband, "with Margaret as stiff and cool 
 as one of her own marbles, and Philip all good 
 manners, and his eyes flashing like blue-steel 
 cimeters. But we got through it somehow, 
 thank Janus ! Good-breeding is a bridge that 
 can span the most fearful social chasms. Your 
 rich vulgarian thinks he can afford to laugh at 
 it. Bah ! it 's a virtue which I have sometimes 
 seen rise to the height of heroism." 
 
 Robert Feuardent strode down Esplanade 
 Street flushed and angry, with a sick, choking 
 feeling in his throat which grew and grew as 
 he graduall/ left his resentment behind him. 
 He had not failed to see Margaret's slight of 
 Philip Rondelet, his life-long friend, and he 
 knew that he was responsible for the misappre 
 hension under which the young girl had acted. 
 The sting of Mrs. Harden's hardly veiled in 
 sult was soon forgotten in the pain of a deeper 
 wound. He took his way to the garden where 
 he had so often walked with Margaret ; and 
 seeking a dark corner, flung himself upon the 
 grass among the flowers. His great form 
 trembled with passion, and at last a sob broke 
 from his lips, a torrent of tears and sighs burst 
 from his overburdened heart and were lost in 
 the murmuring grass. Tears, welcome and rest- 
 giving to women, scorch and sear the eyes of 
 men like drops of molten metal.
 
 ATALANTA IN TtfE SOUTH. 1 7 1 
 
 Robert Feuardent, lying writhing in the dark 
 corner, with clenched hands striking at his 
 breast, his head, the senseless earth beneath 
 him, suffered mortally as the hot drops sprang 
 from his eyes. In his agony he called upon 
 the name of a man who had been dead many 
 weeks, with a passionate remorse and tender 
 ness ; and mingled with these scarce intelligible 
 words of entreaty was his own father's name 
 and that of some woman spoken harshly and 
 reproachfully. It was a grievous sight, this 
 strong man laid low in his pride of youth and 
 beauty, a sight which would have' touched the 
 heart of any of God's creatures capable of pity ; 
 but in the woman who had followed him, and 
 was now standing near by hidden in the shrub 
 bery, there was no pity, only a savage exultation 
 at his pain. She too called upon the name of a 
 dead man in whispered tones, the name of her 
 dead lover ; but it was with a cruel glee that she 
 conjured him to look from his grave and see her 
 vengeance. The young man rose to his knees 
 now, and prayed aloud that he might die, that 
 the burden of sorrow might be lifted from him ; 
 he could not bear it longer. His own sin, the 
 sin of him to whom he owed his life, the sins of 
 that lost woman, all were weighing upon him 
 and 'pressing him down, down into a depth of 
 despair blacker than any hell !
 
 1/2 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " Fernand, the time has come for me to strike ! " 
 whispered the hidden witness of his agony; and 
 with the spring of a tigress she was upon him 
 as he raised his hands above his head, dumbly 
 asking for comfort. She caught him by the 
 throat, and he saw the gleam of a knife flash 
 ing between himself and the moonlight. Before 
 she could strike, the weapon was wrenched from 
 her hand and sent whirling into the shrubbery. 
 He held her for a moment closely pinioned, 
 looking down into her white face, which had 
 lost all trace of womanhood in its look of rage 
 and baffled desire. When he spoke at last, 
 it was in a low voice, more sorrowful than 
 angry, 
 
 " Therese, has there not been enough shame 
 and sin and blood between us two without this ? 
 Remember who it is that you would kill, and 
 thank your God that you were spared this 
 crime." 
 
 She struggled to undo his hands, but he held 
 her firmly. 
 
 " You must listen to what I have to tell you. 
 I have money for you when you need it, and I 
 think you need it now. I will send you back 
 to Spain, to your convent, or where you will. 
 There is nothing for you in this country but 
 more sin, more shame, more madness ; for I be 
 lieve that you are mad to-night. Go back to the
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 1/3 
 
 land where you have friends, friends who never 
 need suspect who and what you are. Do you 
 know that I could imprison you for your whole 
 miserable life for what you have tried to do to 
 night ; that if others had seen your act I could 
 not have saved you from the living death of 
 a jail?" 
 
 " Let me go," she muttered ; " you need not 
 fear, I have no other weapon." 
 
 He freed her hands. 
 
 " Now listen to me," she continued. " I will 
 never leave this place while I can injure yon. I 
 have an account to settle with you that is of 
 longer standing than either of our lives, and I 
 believe that I shall live to pay it. Wrong for 
 wrong, blood for blood ! I have sworn it." 
 
 She stood for a moment motionless in the 
 moonlight, one arm lifted above her head like 
 the figure of an avenging fury ; and then fled 
 from him into the darkness. 
 
 He stood where she had left him, thinking 
 deeply for some minutes. His brain, which just 
 now had seemed on fire, had grown clear, and he 
 thought with an intensity which only comes in 
 moments of great excitement. His pulses, which 
 had throbbed so violently, had slackened, and 
 the fever of mind and body was gone, chilled by 
 the cold glint of that jewelled dagger which had 
 gleamed so close to him. The passion had gone
 
 174 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 out of him, and there remained only a cold sense 
 of a danger averted for the moment, but still 
 hanging over him. Therese had meant to kill 
 him, still meant to do so. Life, which a half hour 
 ago had seemed so hard a thing, now looked full 
 of golden possibilities, of sweet realities. The 
 world which held Margaret Ruysdale was dearer 
 to him than any heaven of angels. He would 
 not die ; he would baffle that mad creature who 
 had sworn to take his life, and send her away 
 beyond reach of him. Yet how could he accom 
 plish this ? It is not more difficult to chain 
 running water than to balk a wilful woman of 
 her way. The bond between this wretched crea 
 ture and himself still held him, though she had 
 lifted her hand against him murderously. He 
 could not give her over to the officers of the 
 law. If she had succeeded, if that sharp steel 
 had found his heart, what would Margaret have 
 felt, Margaret, whom he had left so pale 
 and still -in the moonlight with Philip Ronclelet ; 
 Philip, his friend, the man he had wronged so 
 grievously ? If he had died without speaking, 
 Margaret might never have known that Philip 
 was innocent ; Philip would never know how 
 grievously he had repented his breach of faith ! 
 It was but a chance that had saved him. An 
 other time he might not escape so fortunately. 
 He struck his hands together at the thought
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 175 
 
 and said aloud, " Now, while there is yet time, I 
 must speak; " and so passed out of the garden 
 with a slow step and a quiet, pale face. 
 
 At the Darius Hardens', dinner had been got 
 through with somehow, General Ruysdale and 
 his host bearing the burden of the conversation. 
 The two ladies had retired as early as possible to 
 the music-room, where they were soon joined by 
 Philip, who came to take leave. Mrs. Harden 
 was at the piano singing the last comic air from 
 the " Folies Bergeres " which Bouton de Rose had 
 taught her, and Margaret was standing at the 
 open window pulling the ears of Mrs. Harden's 
 skye-terrier. Philip was about to leave, but Mrs. 
 Harden asked him to turn the pages of her song; 
 and he lingered, not unwilling to be longer in the 
 company of one who, gentle or unkind, was always 
 dear to him. It was pleasant to look at her even 
 while she kept her head so obstinately turned 
 away from him. The twist of soft hair, the 
 curve of her white neck, the slim waist, and deli 
 cate outline against the darkness of the open 
 window, were only less beautiful in his sight 
 than her deep eyes and small flower mouth. He 
 was glad that other people found Margaret only 
 " rather pretty," or " sweet-looking ; " to him she 
 had a wonderful loveliness, a loveliness which 
 was not apparent to the first glance of any care 
 less observer, but which grew and grew as one
 
 1/6 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 learned the graceful play of her movements, the 
 infinite changefulness of her expression. 
 
 To these three people came Robert Feuardent 
 unannounced. The curtain of the door was 
 pushed gently aside, and he who had left them 
 flushed and excited, in haste and resentment, 
 had come back white, quiet, and full of that 
 strange awe which falls upon those who have 
 escaped a great calamity. 
 
 Mrs. Harden arose and came to meet him, 
 saying, " What has happened to you ? You look 
 so strangely Philip, a glass of wine." And 
 the pale girl at the window turned and looked 
 at him, and twisted the dog's ears till it howled 
 and licked her hand deprecatingly. 
 
 " Thank you, I am quite well, or shall be 
 soon," said Robert, in a voice that would not be 
 quite firm. " I have come to speak to you, Philip, 
 and it is well that these two witnesses are here 
 to listen to what I have to say. I have done 
 you a great wrong, a wrong that I have come 
 to set right." He paused a moment and looked 
 at Margaret, as if to gain courage from her face. 
 " On the thirteenth day of December, four months 
 ago this very night, you were summoned from 
 this house hastily and peremptorily. The mes 
 sage brought you was an unusual one, and 
 aroused comment at the time. The next day 
 the world knew that a man," his lips trembled
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 177 
 
 and his voice came so low that the two women 
 moved nearer to him and Rondelet watched the 
 motion of his lips, " Fernand Thoron, had died 
 suddenly. After a time it was whispered that he 
 had been killed in an affair of " he hesitated 
 " in a duel; and again it was breathed that Philip 
 Rondelet knew more of his death than any other 
 man, save the dead man's brother and the phy 
 sician who had been present, both of whom had 
 left the country immediately after the affair. 
 Then it gradually grew to be believed that the 
 man had fallen by Philip's hand. This came to 
 my ears many weeks ago ; and I, who alone knew 
 the truth, kept silent." He paused, as if for 
 want of breath, and there followed a moment of 
 silence, which seemed to his hearers of unendur 
 able length. At last he went on : "I said to 
 myself that I did not speak because the dead 
 man's secret must be kept and the honor of 
 another person whom I was bound to protect, 
 spared. I know now that I lied to myself ; that 
 I was silent for fear that the blame should rest 
 where it belonged, upon the miserable head 
 of the man who had killed one friend and was 
 now betraying another." He looked now at 
 Margaret only ; with mournful, pleading eyes he 
 spoke to her alone in a low, broken voice : " I 
 kept silence ; but the time has come for me to 
 speak, to declare that Philip Rondelet came only 
 
 12
 
 178 AT ALA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 to ease Fernand Thoron's dying hours. The 
 man who killed him, the man who has so long 
 been a false friend, stands before you ; deal with 
 him as gently as you can." 
 
 There was another space of quiet. Margaret, 
 with her hands clasped above her heart, stood 
 silent, looking down, and Philip, with a troubled 
 face, watched her every movement. She had 
 given one low cry ; but whether it was a cry of 
 grief or of joy, he did not know. Mrs. Harden 
 wept silently, and the terrier rubbed himself 
 sympathetically against her slipper. 
 
 The self-accused man stood silently looking 
 into the faces of his three judges. For a mo 
 ment no one moved or spoke ; then Philip took 
 his old friend by the hand, and Robert, flinging 
 his arms about him, kissed him on either cheek. 
 Together they left the room, and through the 
 open window Margaret saw them walking arm 
 in arm down Esplanade Street. For a moment 
 everything between the two men was forgotten, 
 save the old affection which had revived at the 
 hand-touch. The jealousy, the suspicion, the 
 wrong inflicted, the wrong endured, were all 
 put aside, and they were as brothers. In the 
 generous emotions of atonement and forgive 
 ness, the deadly wound their friendship had 
 received seemed to be healed. To-night they 
 both believed that not even a scar remained.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 179 
 
 To-morrow's reflection might show each that a 
 broken friendship, no matter how closely riveted 
 it may be by remorse and forgiveness, can never 
 again be the flawless whole that it was before. 
 The mended vessel will do very well in this life 
 of cemented affections, but it can never ring 
 clear again like the perfect crystal vase of an 
 unbroken trust. 
 
 Margaret watched Philip and Feuardent as 
 long as she could see them from the window, 
 and then turned and looked at Mrs. Harden, 
 whose blue eyes had grown very dim with tears. 
 The young girl was dry-eyed and silent. 
 
 " Margaret, you look so bewildered ; did n't 
 you understand it all ? " said Mrs Harden, with 
 a little sob. 
 
 " Yes, I think I understand," answered Mar 
 garet. 
 
 " What a cold, heartless thing you are," Mrs. 
 Harden continued, " to see those two beautiful 
 dears standing there, like two knights-errant of 
 old, just adoring you, and telling you so with 
 eyes plainer than I am speaking now, and you 
 like a little prudish statue without a word or 
 look or blush for either of them. I don't be 
 lieve you have got any heart at all, indeed I 
 don't." 
 
 " I don't know, dear ; perhaps I have not," an 
 swered Margaret, her hands still tightly pressed
 
 180 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 to the spot where the organ whose existence 
 her friend denied is usually supposed to have 
 its place. 
 
 " I am sure I don't know which one loves you 
 the best ! And then their reconciliation, just 
 like Damon and Pythias, you know ; only I forget 
 if they ever quarrelled. I knew it all the time, 
 so did Philip, that Feuardent had shot young 
 Thoron ; and yet Philip never said one word to 
 clear himself. I call it angelic of him ; and his 
 face when he stretched out his hand to Robert 
 was just like a saint out of heaven giving his 
 forgiveness and blessing to an erring sinner." 
 
 Margaret nodded, and picked up the dog again. 
 
 Mrs. Harden went on : " As to Robert Feu- 
 ardent, I never liked him half so well before in 
 my life ; he was so splendidly unsparing in his 
 self-denunciation that he made one feel he had n't 
 been so very bad after all. How handsome and 
 black he looked, just like Erebus, or Pluto, or 
 some of those dark creatures. I wonder what 
 they fought about. There was a woman mixed 
 up in it somehow an anomalous creature who 
 some people insist is a lady, while others declare 
 that she is a vulgar colored woman. / don't 
 believe she was on the other side of Colorado, 
 as we call it ; Feuardent never could have 
 stooped so low. But I must n't talk about such 
 things before your innocence ; forgive me ! Tell
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. l8l 
 
 me, Margaret, which do you like the best ? You 
 have n't any business to let them both go on 
 loving you so, it's really immoral." 
 
 Margaret smiled a little absently, and began 
 to braid the long hair on the skye's forehead. 
 
 " Don't do that ; he can't bear the light in his 
 eyes," said Mrs. Harden. 
 
 Margaret put the dog down, and took up a 
 skein of wool to wind. 
 
 " You are spoiling my best iced worsted ; don't 
 wind it so tight. I never saw such a girl ; you 
 are really nervous, I believe, and want to keep 
 your hands busy at something, no matter how 
 disastrous the results may be." 
 
 Margaret threw the skein back into the work- 
 basket, and going to the piano played a few bars 
 of a waltz. It was the music to which she had 
 danced with Robert Feuardent on the day of the 
 fete. As soon as she recognized it, she struck a 
 few chords of a new galop, and then closed the 
 instrument, and went and looked at herself in the 
 glass ; she unclasped her necklace, and twisted 
 it twice about her arm. 
 
 " Does n't that make a pretty bracelet, 
 Sara ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course," answered that lady pet 
 tishly, " and the hand is still prettier. I suppose 
 that 's what you want me to say. Which of them 
 shall you bestow it on ? I must know."
 
 1 82 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " And if neither of them has asked for it, how 
 shall I answer you ? " 
 
 " But you know." 
 
 " I don't know. I know nothing about love, 
 about men, about women, about myself even. It 
 was terrible for me to believe that Philip Ron- 
 delet was a murderer, the hero of an ignoble in 
 trigue, he seemed so refined, so pure-minded ; but 
 it is almost worse to find that Robert Feuar- 
 dent's frank face and simple manner should mask 
 a libertine and a Cain. I have seen too much of 
 your men. I have gone below the surface of 
 good manners and courtliness, and have found 
 vice a thousand times uglier because it lies 
 beneath so pleasant an exterior." 
 
 " Ah, my dear, you take these things too se 
 riously. Men are the same all the world over, 
 north and south, east and west," Mrs. Harden 
 commented. 
 
 " Then no more of them for me ! Better, far 
 better, the old quiet, colorless life." 
 
 " That can never come back to you, Margaret. 
 It is past, even as your childhood is past. You 
 can never be a child again ; you can never go 
 back to your marbles and be satisfied. The 
 shadow of love is upon you, and life will never 
 be the same to you again, my poor child." 
 
 The elder woman spoke seriously and gently, 
 as Margaret had never heard her speak before, as
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 183 
 
 she touched the young girl's forehead with her 
 lips. Then Margaret lost her composure, the 
 tears trembled to her eyes, and the two women 
 wept together; but whether Margaret's tears 
 flowed for Philip Rondelet or for Robert Feu- 
 ardent, her friend could not tell. It may be that 
 she herself did not know ; for to an untried heart 
 love and friendship often masquerade each in 
 the other's shape.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " WAS Margaret glad, or sorry, that the cloud 
 which hung over him had been dissipated ? " 
 Philip asked himself a thousand times ; and at 
 each self-interrogation he either felt his heart 
 grow sick and faint with doubt, or quicken its beat 
 ing with the joy of hope. There was something 
 so sacred to him about this young girl's heart that 
 he dared not ask her to lift the veil which hung 
 about it and to unfold to him its virgin sanctu 
 ary. He silently offered up at that white shrine 
 a love as pure as ever man was blessed with. 
 He loved her as no man should ever love her 
 again, with a love surpassing the love of self 
 He thanked God for that love, and was glad to 
 think that so great a wealth of affection was his 
 to lay reverently at her feet. Should she take 
 it or leave it, he was always the richer for having 
 it to give ; and so he spoke only with his eyes 
 and voice, which grew tender when she was near. 
 Human lives have their ebb and flow, their 
 storms and calms ; and in the days which followed 
 Feuardent's confession there was peace and quiet
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 185 
 
 for Philip. He saw Margaret very often. He 
 sat with her while she worked in the afternoon, 
 when his own day's toil was over; and in the 
 sunset-hour they lingered in the little garden, 
 where the splendid rose-bloom wrapped the 
 modest little house with its sweetness. Up and 
 down the narrow paths they paced, her loosened 
 hair sometimes touching him as if with the 
 touch of fire. She was not quite what she had 
 been to him in those early winter-days. The 
 perfect frankness of girlhood had left her, and 
 the reserve of young womanhood had insensibly 
 taken its place. She talked to him of her work as 
 of old, and in odd moments modelled for him a 
 little statuette of herself in her long blue apron. 
 It seemed as if she wished to turn to him the 
 artist-side of her nature, which he could under 
 stand, perhaps, better than any one else. He 
 carried the little figure home and fashioned for 
 it a shrine, carved with more love than skill. 
 She learned from him about his poor patients, 
 and the hospital where he labored was often 
 brightened by her presence. He was conscious 
 that she tried to atone to him for the injustice 
 she had done him ; but from the night when 
 she had learned the truth, they never spoke of 
 the past or mentioned Feuardent's name. The 
 melancholy which at first had hung about her 
 grew less perceptible, and the smile which had
 
 1 86 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 seemed forced at his coming, now lighted up her 
 earnest face naturally. 
 
 It was in these days that the long-planned 
 excursion to the Rondelet plantation came off. 
 The party assembled in the early morning at 
 the levee, where a small steamer chartered for 
 the occasion awaited them. The Hardens were 
 the first to arrive ; and shortly after, Bouton de 
 Rose drove up at a sharp pace in a very shabby 
 cab, from which he descended " with the royal 
 air of a prince of the blood leaving his chariot 
 of state," as Mrs. Harden said. Colonel La- 
 grange, very much buttoned up and military in 
 his appearance, came next ; and last of all the 
 Ruysdales with Rondelet, who had gone to fetch 
 them. 
 
 The day was an exquisite one, and the guests 
 seemed to be in the best of spirits as they 
 stepped on board the steamer. Mrs. Harden's 
 face was wreathed with smiles, and her light, 
 merry voice rang out cheerfully as she took an 
 affecting farewell of her skye, yelping in the 
 arms of the black coachman. 
 
 " My dog," she said, " my dear dog, I cannot 
 take you with me ! I dare not risk your precious 
 life on the treacherous billow. Poor forsaken 
 one, try to be cheerful, and don't chew up the 
 new sofa-cushion while I am away ! The old 
 ones are still quite good enough for you to spoil.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 1 87 
 
 Sneeze, my idol, farewell ! I shall not be happy 
 till I again fold you to my heart. Dari," turn 
 ing suddenly to her husband, and speaking in an 
 undertone, " do you think Mary remembered 
 to put in my curling-tongs and prayer-book ? I 
 can't go without them." 
 
 " The tongs are there ; I saw her put them 
 in," said her husband. 
 
 "Well, that's the most important; I suppose 
 I can pray without my prayer-book, though I 
 could not have curled my hair without my tongs. 
 Good-by, my deserted love ! farewell, my own 
 little Sneeze!" 
 
 The laugh which followed Mrs. Harden's 
 touching leave-taking of her skye was very irri 
 tating to one person who heard it. Not to the 
 stevedores at work in the mammoth ship near 
 by, surely, nor to the group of idlers who were 
 watching the departure, but to a man standing 
 behind a pile of cotton-bales, whose eyes were 
 fixed on the face of the young girl about whose 
 comfort Philip Rondelet was busying himself. 
 The physician placed a stool beneath her feet 
 and brought a cushion for her back ; and at 
 these very simple acts of courtesy the unrea 
 sonable being behind the cotton-bales ground 
 his teeth, and, I regret to say, swore roundly, 
 cursing the steamer, the footstool, the Rondelet 
 plantation, and everybody on the boat, always
 
 1 88 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 excepting the young lady who leaned comfortably 
 back in the camp-chair, quite unconscious of 
 the maledictions called down upon the devoted 
 heads of her companions. 
 
 The people on the steamer, after watching the 
 preparations for departure, settled themselves 
 to enjoy the sail up the river. They passed 
 great orange-groves, where the flat monotony of 
 the landscape was agreeably broken by masses 
 of dark foliage. Groups of pecan-trees, tall 
 and beautiful in shape and color, were outlined 
 against the crystalline sky. Here and there a 
 few scattered negro cabins were to be seen ; but 
 for the most part there was little sign of habita 
 tion on either bank. At one point they passed 
 an enormous raft of logs brought to anchor at 
 the river-bank. Margaret was much interested 
 in this, which was to her a novel sight. " I wish 
 I could see what it is like to be on such a raft," 
 she said, " and what sort of people live in that 
 queer little house." 
 
 Philip, who knew no better law than Marga 
 ret's wish, gave the necessary orders, and five 
 minutes later she stepped lightly on the outer 
 most of the great trees solidly chained together. 
 A man came out of the shanty set in the middle 
 of the raft and asked if they were come to buy 
 his lumber. He was a rough-looking old fellow, 
 hard of face and voice. When Margaret told
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 189 
 
 him that she had never seen such a raft before, 
 he made her welcome to his drifting home. 
 "'U'd ask VQU to step inside, on'y the boys is 
 thar taint much of a place for ladies, but good 
 'nuff for we 'uns. That 's my youngest cub ; he 
 was born on a raft, and larnt all he knows on 
 one. Yes, we come from Red River ; been 
 three months on this yer raft oo' logs fair lum 
 ber too, as ever growed." 
 
 The cub was an uncouth creature, too tall for 
 his trousers and sleeves, too short for his boots 
 and coat. He stared at Margaret, and presently 
 set to work building a fire in front of the door of 
 the hut. She caught a glimpse of the interior, 
 where two men were lying asleep on the floor. 
 The cub, occasionally casting a side-glance at 
 Margaret, proceeded to stir a thick yellow com 
 pound contained in a broken bowl. He then 
 took a greasy spider and prepared to fry the 
 not very appetizing batter into cakes. Here the 
 father expostulated : " Hold up, Nathan ; taint 
 dinner-time yet by two hours. They uns can't 
 eat a mess o' your fixin'." 
 
 The cub looked very shamefaced and, dropping 
 his griddle, turned his back to Margaret and 
 walked to the edge of the raft, where he stood 
 with his hands in his pockets, whistling the air 
 of a camp-meeting hymn. Margaret, who had 
 seen his mortification, spoke to him as they were
 
 190 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 leaving the raft and thanked him for the trouble 
 he had taken. The cub made no answer, but the 
 back of his neck and his ears grew very red. 
 
 Miss Ruysdale had about her throat a crimson 
 silk handkerchief, which she unfastened and laid 
 in the old man's hand as he helped her to step on 
 board the steamer. "Give this to Nathan from 
 me," she whispered to him. As the little tug 
 steamed briskly up the river, they saw the cub 
 handling the square of silk very carefully. Then 
 he brought out from his breeches pocket a piece 
 of crumpled brown paper, and carefully wrapping 
 Margaret's gift in it, he placed the packet in the 
 leg of his boot for safety. 
 
 It was mid-day when they reached the planta 
 tion where Philip's childhood had been passed. 
 As the steamer rounded the turn in the river 
 which brought them in sight of the tall chim 
 neys of the sugar-house, the whistle was sounded 
 thrice. The signal was answered by a blast on 
 an invisible horn, and by the time the boat was 
 moored at the levee, a swarm of children of all 
 sizes and colors had gathered upon the river- 
 bank. Just as the gang-plank was thrown 
 ashore, a carriage drove up at a smart pace, and 
 a gentleman descended in time to assist the 
 ladies to land. 
 
 Francis Rondelet, great-uncle to Philip, was 
 a striking-looking old man, tall and gaunt,
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 19 1 
 
 with a mass of thick white hair, fierce black 
 eyes and a kindly mouth which curiously belied 
 each other. He made his guests welcome with 
 a stately old-fashioned courtesy which impressed 
 Bouton de Rose immeasurably. 
 
 " He has the air of a duke," the young man 
 whispered to Mrs. Harden. 
 
 "Not at all," answered that imperturbable lady ; 
 " he has the air of an American gentleman." 
 
 She loved a lord as dearly as most of us, but 
 she loved her birthright as a free and indepen 
 dent American citizen still more, and would 
 allow no opportunity to pass in which she might 
 impress the young aristocrat with that fact. A 
 large carriage stood waiting for them ; and after 
 seeing his guests seated, the old man he was 
 nearer to ninety than to eighty years climbed 
 to the front seat and, taking the reins from the 
 boy who held them, guided the horses over the 
 rough and heavy road with a firm hand. The 
 old Rondelet house stood some way back from 
 the levee, the approach to it leading through 
 an avenue of mighty live-oaks. It was a pleas 
 ant habitation, built in the shape of a Maltese 
 cross, with wide galleries running around it and 
 a broad staircase leading from either side of the 
 entrance to the upper veranda. A wide hall 
 divided the whole length of the house, and from 
 it opened square, spacious rooms, cool and dim
 
 1 92 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 with the twilight darkness of the Louisiana inte 
 riors. The dining-room, separated from the hall 
 by an arched screen of exquisitely carved white 
 wood, was the first object of interest to the 
 hungry excursionists. 
 
 A dainty breakfast was served them by a pair 
 of pretty bronze handmaidens, whose beauty of 
 form and color delighted Margaret's artistic eye. 
 Mrs. Harden found the viands "utterly deli 
 cious," and complimented her host on the excel 
 lence of his coffee, his home-made wine, his 
 marvellous orange sweetmeats and. golden corn 
 bread. They sat together after the meal on the 
 shaded gallery until the sun was low in the hori 
 zon. General Ruysdale was much interested in 
 conversing with the old planter, whose mind was 
 wont to revert to the days when his plantation 
 produced three times as much cane as now, and 
 his fields teemed with the laborers who worked 
 without hire. General Ruysdale complimented 
 him on his fine estate and the healthy appear 
 ance of the negroes. The old man shook his 
 head and sighed. 
 
 " Ah, poor creatures," he said, " they are badly 
 off now half clothed, badly fed. My dear sir, 
 it was a sad day for the negro when the respon 
 sibility of feeding and clothing himself was put 
 upon him. My men were dressed well, sir, 
 two suits of clothes a year, of the best materials ;
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 193 
 
 good food, and all they could eat of it ; doctors 
 and medicines when they were sick ; and regular 
 work, sir. Not a spell of hard labor for two days, 
 and then a debauch for three. Poor creatures ! 
 they are nothing but children, not fit to take care 
 of themselves. I pity them myself; I do indeed. 
 They were much better off before their so-called 
 emancipation, a thousand times better off." 
 
 " That may be so, Mr. Rondelet, I don't deny 
 that there is a great deal of truth in what you 
 say," Colonel Lagrange was the speaker, 
 "but we are a great deal better off without 
 slavery. Emancipation of the blacks, General 
 Ruysdale, you Northern folk talk so much 
 about it wasn't the emancipation of an infe 
 rior African race that was of so much impor 
 tance, it was the emancipation of the Southern 
 whites, sir, from the curse of slavery, that made 
 Abraham Lincoln a great man ; and twenty years 
 from now every intelligent man in the South, 
 sir, will be of my opinion." 
 
 Francis Rondelet smiled incredulously at this 
 speech. He could not accept these new opin 
 ions, so contradictory to the prejudices of the 
 past. He waved his delicate white hand airily 
 and said, 
 
 " I cannot agree with you, Colonel. It must 
 be the end of all order and public decency when 
 men who have no sense of honesty are given an 
 13
 
 194 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 equal voice in the government with ourselves. 
 The negroes all steal, sir. I never knew one 
 that would n't steal. They have no idea of the 
 sacredness of property." 
 
 " Is it not rather soon to expect people who 
 have never owned any property, not even their 
 own bodies, to develop a delicate sense of meum 
 and tuum ? How should they understand that 
 which it has taken centuries of civilization to 
 develop ever so little in ourselves ? Give them 
 property of their own, and that is the surest way 
 to teach them to respect yours." 
 
 It was Margaret who spoke, blushing at her 
 own temerity as soon as she had uttered the 
 words. 
 
 " I think, Mademoiselle, that you have said 
 the very best thing that could be said on the 
 subject, which is in truth a vexed one," said 
 Philip. 
 
 Margaret looked at him gratefully. 
 
 " What future seems to you to lie before 
 the Southern negroes ? " asked the General, 
 addressing Colonel Lagrange. 
 
 " Can't say, sir. I should like to see them all 
 shipped to Liberia. I believe that white men 
 could do their work, and the country would be a 
 deal better without them." 
 
 " There, sir, you are mistaken," interrupted 
 the planter. "They are a necessity, a neces-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 195 
 
 sary evil, I think we may call them ; and while 
 Louisiana produces crops of sugar-cane, of rice, 
 and of cotton, the negro must stay to gather 
 them. To be sure, the measures which Congress 
 seems about to adopt point to the direct crushing 
 out of the sugar interests of the South. It is too 
 lucrative a business for us to be permitted to 
 carry on. Sugar brings seven cents a pound 
 now, and when the duty is lifted, this estate, 
 which to-day yields only half what it once did, 
 will not pay for the planting. Strange times 
 these ! " 
 
 The old man, spoke bitterly, and a moment's 
 silence followed, broken at last by Bouton de 
 Rose. 
 
 " I wish that I had seen La Louisiane in other 
 times. It must have been very picturesque, 
 slavery," he said, lightly. 
 
 " It is very picturesque now," said Margaret, 
 " quite as full of romance and color as any life 
 that I have ever seen in the old world." 
 
 Darius Harden, whose diplomatic soul had 
 been tortured by the conversation, which could 
 hardly fail to prove a heated one should it be 
 allowed to go farther, seeing his opportunity to 
 make a diversion, said : 
 
 " I quite agree with you, Miss Margaret. It 
 is cooler now ; will you not come and see the 
 quarters ? "
 
 196 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " Willingly." 
 
 "And I also will go," said Bouton de Rose. 
 " I have no great knowledge of the affairs which 
 ces messieurs are discussing." 
 
 Mrs. Harden, who had been yawning behind 
 her fan, joined the party, and they took their 
 way to the negro-quarters, situated half a mile 
 from the house. 
 
 "What an enchanting little beast! What is 
 he ? " asked Margaret, stopping to admire a 
 bright-eyed, gray-furred creature tugging at the 
 end of its chain. 
 
 " That is Zillah, my uncle's pet coon. Is n't 
 she pretty ? Here, Coony, there 's something in 
 my pocket for you." 
 
 The coon sprang on Philip's shoulder, and its 
 curious little hands, delicate and horribly human, 
 fumbled in his pockets till they found a bit of 
 sugar. It cried plaintively when they left it, and 
 ran after them as far as its chain would permit. 
 
 Hero was their guide about the miniature 
 village. He introduced them to the preacher, a 
 young man of intelligent aspect, but who won 
 little favor among his parishioners, as Margaret 
 inferred from Hero's rather slighting comment : 
 " Bro' Peaseley 's a good man, but he is teruble 
 put to it for prayer ; he ain't got no gift of retri 
 bution." Hero, who had been born and bred on 
 the plantation, was made very welcome by such
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 197 
 
 of the men and women as were not in the fields 
 at work. His old grandmother lived in a neat 
 whitewashed cabin shaded by a giant fig-tree. 
 She was of the pure African type, tall and 
 powerful, with a kindly old face threaded with a 
 web of wrinkles. Her head was bound up in a 
 bandanna handkerchief so arranged as to give 
 the effect of an impossibly elongated occipital 
 development. Her spotless white dress and 
 kerchief brought out her grotesque features as 
 a snood of ivory enhances the blackness of an 
 ebony mask. A dozen babies left in her care 
 rolled about on the clean sanded floor, yelping 
 and screaming like a litter of young puppies. 
 A broken pitcher, containing a bunch of yellow- 
 hearted lilies, stood on a shelf beside a young 
 mulatto woman who was sitting in the corner 
 suckling an infant. She was the embodiment of 
 physical beauty and strength, her color a warm 
 bronze, her features delicate and almost Greek in 
 their perfection of outline. The hands were 
 slim, and the bare feet high-instepped and aris 
 tocratic in shape. The strain of white blood 
 which had crossed the African in her must have 
 been a patrician one. She did not notice the 
 visitors, but went on crooning a low song to the 
 child in her arms. Hero ignored her presence 
 as completely as she failed to recognize his. He 
 spoke only to the old woman, never glancing at
 
 198 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 the pretty figure with its short blue skirt and 
 low white bodice sitting so near him. The 
 grandmother, who was somewhat deaf, per 
 sisted in considering Margaret as a " mission 
 ary." She showed her her Bible and hymn-book, 
 holding the latter upside down in perfect un 
 consciousness. 
 
 " What an Eve one could model from that girl 
 in her savage beauty ! " said Margaret to Philip. 
 " She has a perfection of form and freshness of 
 face that seem to bring back the Woman of the 
 first Eden." 
 
 " And yet she is as finished an actress as the 
 most modern Eve. Would you have guessed 
 that that woman was the wife of my boy Hero, 
 and that she had not seen him until this mo 
 ment for six weeks past ? That is her idea of 
 etiquette." 
 
 " They are a curious people and very interest 
 ing," said Margaret. " I think it wonderful that 
 in little more than a century they should have 
 arrived at so high a degree of civilization as is 
 seen among the more educated ones to-day. In 
 the natural course of events, the social conditions 
 they now live in would not have been arrived at 
 in a thousand years and more." 
 
 " Margaret," said Mrs. Harden under her 
 breath, " you are talking about things of which 
 you are totally ignorant. They are hopelessly
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 199 
 
 immoral, these creatures, and there is no use in 
 trying to teach them, how to behave themselves 
 decently," she went on, speaking somewhat bit 
 terly. " I hardly know a family to which some 
 woman of that low race has not brought misery 
 and shame. They are utterly depraved. You 
 sympathize with them ; I tell you it is their 
 victims who deserve our pity." 
 
 " Is the fault altogether theirs that they have 
 come to this pass ? " questioned Margaret. " How 
 can people who for generations have had no idea 
 of the sacredness of family life learn what it 
 means in so few years ? Suppose your father 
 had been sold into one State, your mother and 
 sisters and brothers into another, don't you 
 think that you might have rather misty ideas 
 about domestic relations ? " 
 
 " But that did n't happen outside of books, you 
 know," answered Mrs. Harden. " Besides, they 
 are perfectly untrustworthy " 
 
 " And yet, Mrs. Harden, my uncle could, if he 
 would, tell a very different story. During the 
 war my father and himself and all the white men 
 on the plantation were away from home righting 
 for the lost cause, and the women of the family 
 were left here alone unprotected, at the mercy 
 of these ' untrustworthy ' creatures, as you call 
 them ; and what did they do ? Riot, steal, dev 
 astate, as white men would have done ? No, they
 
 200 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 protected the women, they worked the crops ; 
 they were faithful, docile, obedient, as if the force 
 which had once kept them so had not been broken 
 forever. And this is not an isolated case, this was 
 the rule all over the country ; and thus it was, by 
 his self-restraint and forbearance, that the negro 
 won the respect of the community, which no 
 legal edict could ever have gained for him." 
 
 They had by this time reached the house ; and 
 Francis Rondelet, who had caught his nephew's 
 words, waved his white hand in gracious if some 
 what condescending acquiescence. 
 
 " Yes, Philip, you are certainly right, their 
 conduct was most praiseworthy. But what does 
 it prove ? Simply that they were conscious of 
 their inability to act and think for themselves. 
 They went on automatically performing the tasks 
 which they had been taught to accomplish. The 
 negro is naturally a docile creature, quite docile." 
 
 He tapped the lid of his old silver snuff-box 
 and took a pinch of maccaboy in a manner 
 which seemed to dismiss the unwelcome topic 
 of conversation. 
 
 He was a lonely old man, Francis Rondelet, his 
 only companion in his quiet life an invalid niece, 
 Philip's sister, who administered from her couch 
 the affairs of the small household. The advent 
 of his nephew's friends was a pleasant interrup 
 tion to the monotony of existence on the plan-
 
 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 2OI 
 
 tation, and it was late when they separated for 
 the night. Philip was in no mood for sleep. He 
 strolled down to the levee to smoke a cigar 
 and watch a certain window where a light still 
 burned. Across the white curtain a shadow 
 passed, vague yet graceful in its movements. He 
 stood with folded arms watching that small square 
 of light as intently as if a momentous issue hung 
 upon the reappearance of the shadow. 
 
 It passed again, this time more clearly defined. 
 He could trace the rounded outline of the bare 
 shoulders and the wavy sweep of unbound tresses 
 floating far below the waist. And then with a 
 burning blush he turned away, the feeling of a 
 shamed Acteon in his heart. He had been 
 too much absorbed to notice the approach of a 
 huge, shambling fellow, who came slouching up 
 to him and touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 " Marse Philip." 
 
 " Hero, is that you ? What are you doing 
 here at this time of night ? " 
 
 " It's a fine evening, Marse Philip." 
 
 Philip nodded silently, keeping his back reso 
 lutely turned to the house. 
 
 " Never see the stars brighter," . Hero con 
 tinued. 
 
 He evidently had something to say, and Ron- 
 delet waited till he should gain time to shape his 
 thoughts.
 
 202 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " What sort of season does old Marse call it ? " 
 
 " Very good," answered Philip. 
 
 " Marse Philip." 
 
 A long pause followed. It was evident that 
 Hero was summoning up his courage to speak 
 his mind. 
 
 " Well, Hero." 
 
 " Marse Philip." 
 
 Another long pause, during which the ragged 
 cap was removed and the left ear gently caressed. 
 
 " Marse Philip, why don't you git married ?" 
 
 " That 's a hard question to answer, Hero. 
 What makes you think that I want to marry ? " 
 
 " Marse Philip, you needs a wife to look arter 
 you." 
 
 " A wife 's an expensive luxury. You look 
 after me very well. What would you have to 
 do if I took a wife ? " 
 
 " A nigger can't take care of you, mor 'n to 
 brush you clothes and keep trashy folks from a 
 cheating of you too much. 'T would be a real 
 'conomy for you to be married, Marse Philip ; 
 wives is savin' folks." 
 
 " Indeed ! " Philip observed, remembering cer 
 tain sums of money extorted from him by Hero 
 under plea of matrimonial expenses. 
 
 "Thar's that young lady," Hero continued, 
 " her with the yallar har. Why would n't she 
 make you a good wife ? "
 
 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 203 
 
 " Perhaps she would n't have me, Hero." 
 
 A low incredulous whistle was the only re 
 sponse to this remark. 
 
 " Besides, I can't afford to marry yet," Philip 
 added. His pulses were beating at an absurd 
 rate, and his face was bright with a light which 
 was not reflected from the moon, a light of hope 
 which shone through his deep gray eyes. The 
 coarse-featured, clumsy creature beside him un 
 derstood that look, and shifted his weight from 
 one foot to the other uneasily. 
 
 " Marse Philip, you gwine to marry that young 
 lady," he said at last, " and me and my wife 's a 
 gwine to wait on yer. She 's good for wuk ; she 's 
 lazed long enuff, I tell her. She 's smart, she is. 
 We could keep you bof comfortable like; and 'bout 
 the wages, why yer know, Marse Philip, yer 've paid 
 me mor 'n I 'se worth for ten years, twice mor 'n, 
 'nd yer need n't think nothin' about that" 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then Philip 
 coughed very suddenly and relit his cigar. 
 
 " Thank you, Hero," he said when the spark 
 was fairly kindled ; " thank you kindly, and good 
 night." 
 
 The light had vanished from the corner win 
 dow now, and with it the shadow of that lithe 
 young figure, a shadow which mixed itself 
 wilfully all that night with Philip Rondelet's 
 dreams.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE garden is the fairest spot in all the 
 wide Rondelet plantation. Here the lilies are 
 all ablow, lining the paths in stately rows and 
 nodding gravely at one another as Margaret 
 walks between them, brushing the dew from 
 their petals with the sweep of her white robe. 
 She passes under an amethyst canopy of wis 
 tarias ; and leaning against the old tree about 
 which the vine has flung its freshness, she 
 pauses and breathes in the beauty of the scene. 
 A thick hedge of Cherokee-roses screens the 
 garden from the house and offices. Here is no 
 hint of work or business ; it is a place to dream 
 in, a place to love in, a place to lie in at peace, 
 when life and love and work are over. Dark 
 and straight, a pair of aged cypresses rise from 
 the midst of all the bloom and perfume of count 
 less flowers. Between the two quiet sentinels is 
 a tomb, lichen-stained, grass-grown. The letters 
 are now untraceable. The Great Mother has 
 blurred out the words which tell by what name,
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 205 
 
 at what time, her child lived and moved above 
 the breast wherein he now lies. Soft-furred, sil 
 very moss gently veils these details, unimportant 
 now; but one word of all the inscription is 
 spared, " Peace." Margaret, pausing by this 
 sepulchre, breathes a deep sigh ; and leaning 
 upon the sculptured urn, reads the lesson of 
 mortality, so often learned, so oft forgotten. 
 
 Far off, at the opposite corner of the garden, 
 stands a pavilion, whose sides and roof seem 
 woven of living jasmine and honeysuckle. Here 
 breakfast has been prepared, and hither Sara 
 Harden comes, dainty and fresh as a shepherdess 
 of romance. Her fair, curling hair is gathered 
 high on her head beneath a distracting little hat, 
 all blue ribbons and roses. Her skin is admira 
 bly set off by the pale blue of her Watteau dress, 
 and her dewy infantine eyes shine like deep 
 forget-me-nots. A perfectly pretty woman is 
 Sara Harden ; beautiful, no one who knows the 
 value of that superlative term would call her. 
 There are no grand lines, no mysterious coming 
 and going of light and shadow in her delicate 
 face; no moments of loveliness obscured for a 
 time and then shining out radiant and all power 
 ful ; nothing of the half-painful influence which 
 great beauty holds for those who are enamored of 
 it, nothing of this has the bonny shepherdess, 
 only a restful, pleasure-giving prettiness, which
 
 206 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 makes men grateful and even women glad, as 
 they are glad of a beautiful child or a perfect 
 flower. 
 
 From the steps of the little pavilion Sara 
 Harden, standing in a flood of sunlight, per 
 ceives Margaret's white drapery beneath the 
 sombre cypress. 
 
 " Margaret ! Margaret O Mar-ga-ret ! " 
 
 A handkerchief is waved in answered greeting 
 from the shadowy corner of the garden. 
 
 "Come here, I say; don't you hear me ? " She 
 had not said it before. 
 
 Stopping only to gather a shaft of golden 
 lilies, Margaret comes obedient to the small 
 tyrant of the. iron will and caressing voice. 
 
 "Where have you been ? How white you 
 look b-r-r-r-r-r ! what were you doing in the 
 one dark spot of all this pleasant garden ? An 
 unhealthy creature, mousing about in creepy 
 corners instead of sunning yourself in the 
 summer-house." 
 
 Margaret has drawn near by this time, and 
 stands, with a sad smile on her face, looking 
 at the joyous creature before her, thoughtlessly 
 happy, full of health and brilliant vitality. 
 
 " You have been prowling about that old, 
 forgotten tomb with an uncanny joy that is 
 positively immoral. What do you mean by 
 wearing that look of stoical gloom, in the face
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 2O/ 
 
 of this glorious morning, in the anticipation of a 
 good breakfast ? Ingrate, look at me." 
 
 " You would make the most confirmed stoic 
 smile, you are so delightfully gay," said Margaret, 
 with a little sigh. 
 
 " My dear, you are now in the gloom of youth ; 
 I have passed through it myself. I, even I, 
 the frivolous, the light-headed, have felt much 
 of the sort of sorrow which is now vexing you. 
 It is, in a way, an imaginary sorrow. You are 
 learning the realities of life ; you are finding out 
 that Death and Grief and Love and Sin are not 
 purely allegorical figures sculptured on the walls 
 which bound your life-path, but real creatures, 
 with which you must grapple and wrestle, which 
 you must conquer or be conquered by, not once, 
 but a thousand times. You are finding this 
 out. You have read of these four personages, 
 you have seen many pictures of them, you have 
 perhaps typified them with your own hands ; but 
 you have never realized their existence till now." 
 
 Margaret shook her head and straightened a 
 fold of her friend's gown. She had a profound 
 conviction that the feelings to which she was 
 now a prey had never been experienced be 
 fore, and that her debonair friend was incapa 
 ble of suffering as she suffered ; and yet Sara 
 Harden bore a wound in her heart which not 
 even time had healed, the grief of a mother
 
 208 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 for her only child, the pity of a wife for her 
 childless husband. She smiled and touched 
 Margaret's pale cheek with her rosy lips, a 
 woman who had loved and suffered, and was 
 strong to bear the burden of her grief so that 
 its shadow might not darken the life of any 
 other human creature. 
 
 To these two fair women came Philip Ron- 
 delet, the old planter leaning on his arm, Colonel 
 Lagrange, General Ruysdale, Bouton de Rose, 
 and Darius Harden following. Soon after was 
 served a breakfast of honey, whose sweetness 
 had been gathered from the flowers of the gar 
 den, of butter and cream, for which a pair of 
 black-nosed Jerseys cropping the grass near by 
 were responsible, of fish caught in the neighbor 
 ing bayou, eggs from the farm-yard, bread light 
 and sweet as the most fastidious sybarite could 
 desire, and coffee, that Creole coffee, of unsur 
 passed fragrance and flavor. They lingered 
 over the table, for it was the last meal they 
 were to take together, and host and guests were 
 equally sorry that the brief visit had come to 
 an end. 
 
 The quiet of the morning was suddenly broken 
 by the faint echo of a whistle. " Alack ! it is 
 the steamer," cried Mrs. Harden ; " that means 
 that we must leave this enchanting place, perhaps 
 forever."
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 2OQ 
 
 Twenty minutes later they were standing on 
 the river-bank watching the approach of the 
 mammoth white boat. Handkerchiefs were 
 waved, and in answer to this primitive signal 
 the huge craft, cleverly handled as an Indian's 
 canoe, drew along-side the levee. The gangway 
 was thrown, and while the monster held its 
 breath for a moment, the friends were safely 
 transferred to the lower deck ; another sixty 
 seconds, and the steamer was on her course 
 again, the group of new passengers in her stern 
 waving a last greeting to the spare old man 
 standing hat in hand beneath a giant live-oak 
 gray and venerable as himself. 
 
 The steamer had a fair number of passengers, 
 and was heavily freighted with cotton. Groups 
 of men smoking, talking, and playing cards were 
 collected on her decks and in the after-saloon. 
 
 Most of them were rough-looking fellows 
 enough, drovers from Texas, horse-traders from 
 everywhere, rancheros from the Far West, and 
 a gang of Chinamen bound for South America 
 to labor in a climate too deadly even for the 
 negro. Railroads must be built, rivers must 
 be spanned, mountains must be tunnelled for 
 the march of commerce ; and for these things, 
 which the American covets but cannot achieve, 
 the despised Mongolian is imported, and treated 
 as the African never was, execrated and scoffed
 
 210 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 at by a nation which owes no little of its 
 prosperity to-day to his tireless, uncomplaining 
 industry. 
 
 Captain Silas Martin, a burly fellow born be 
 side the river and bred to thread its ever-shift 
 ing channels, was an old acquaintance of Colonel 
 Lagrange. He made that worthy man and his 
 friends heartily welcome to the good ship " Cres 
 cent Queen," of which he was part owner and sole 
 commander. He was a jovial soul, full of native 
 wit and abounding in anecdotes of his life upon 
 the river. He remembered one trip made in the 
 old troublous times, when he had stood at the 
 wheel under the guard of two armed Union offi 
 cers who watched him day and night. One false 
 turn of the wheel in that puzzling, sinuous chan 
 nel, and his life would have been forfeit. 
 
 He had been captured, and placed at the 
 wheel of a war transport bound from New 
 Orleans to a point higher up the river with 
 a cargo of ammunition and stores. Of little 
 use were the government pilots, Northern 
 men, on a river which from week to week 
 shifts its course, now swerving to the right and 
 stealing a piece of territory on that side, and 
 leaving a shoal on the other hand, again build 
 ing an island or washing away a spit of the soft 
 bottom land. One who belonged to the free 
 masonry of Mississippi pilots must guide the 

 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 211 
 
 boat, and Silas Martin was chosen as the like 
 liest man to bring the precious freight to its 
 destination. He had brought the transport 
 safely up the river ; he loved his life, and he 
 loved his own word. Both were pledged to the 
 young officers, who never left him, sleeping or 
 waking. 
 
 " Is not the ' Crescent Queen ' a very fast 
 boat, Captain Martin ? " asked Margaret. 
 
 " She is called so, miss. Colonel Lagrange 
 there can tell you something of her speed." 
 
 But the Colonel only nodded an assent to this 
 remark, and a few moments after drew Mar 
 garet to the other side of the deck, from which 
 was to be had a view of a late crevasse. Half a 
 hundred men were at work on the levee fighting 
 the river which had brought desolation to the 
 plantation and ruin to the crops. The lawn was 
 still submerged, and the blossoms of the taller 
 rose-bushes looked over the invading water, 
 blighted, but not yet dead. A row-boat was 
 moored outside the door of the manor-house, 
 whose broad stone steps were half covered by 
 the tide. 
 
 " What havoc the river has made here ! " said 
 Margaret. " But it was not only to see this that 
 you brought me away from the others ? " 
 
 " No, my dear young lady ; you had opened a 
 dangerous topic of conversation. The last time
 
 212 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 I heard Captain Martin questioned about the 
 speed of the ' Crescent Queen ' the consequences 
 were rather serious. There was a new boat on 
 the river. The Captain was afraid of her, I 
 think ; but when she blew the signal for a race, 
 he ordered our speed increased. All the pas 
 sengers begged Martin not to accept the chal 
 lenge, but he answered them pretty roughly. 
 The new boat pressed us hard, and I saw our 
 furnace crammed with barrels of oil, with crates 
 of fruit, with cotton and freight. No matter what, 
 anything that would burn was tossed into the 
 roaring fire ; but the new boat gained on us. I 
 had bet all the money in my pockets on the 
 ' Crescent Queen.' There was not a man on 
 board, down to the nigger firemen, who had not 
 put up something on the race. I remember I 
 asked the Captain if he thought we should beat 
 her. He was at the speaking-tube, and roared 
 out, ' Send up my whiskey straight ; ' then 
 turning to me he said, ' Beat her, sir, or bust ! ' 
 It did not quite come to that, for by the time we 
 had reached a narrow turn in the river the rival 
 boat had almost caught up with us ; there was 
 not room for both steamers abreast, and in a 
 flash Martin turned the ' Queen's ' head and 
 drove her bow straight into the side of the other 
 boat. She never raced again, I believe, and the 
 ' Crescent Queen ' has not been challenged since.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 21 3 
 
 That was some years ago. Things are changed 
 now, and the times are quieter," the Colonel 
 added, with a sigh which Margaret interpreted, 
 perhaps unjustly, as an expression of regret at 
 the altered conditions of travel on the Mis 
 sissippi. 
 
 Margaret's stateroom commanded a view of 
 the deck ; and when, late that evening, she 
 opened her door and prepared to steal out for 
 a last look at the river, she found herself con 
 fronted by a group of card-players. One of 
 them might have been, judging from his dress, 
 a clergyman. The other two were rough-looking 
 fellows, one of whom was greatly excited. He 
 smote the table with his clenched hand, mut 
 tering fierce imprecations. Visions of Mr. Jack 
 Oakhurst crossed Margaret's mind ; that deli 
 cate-featured young man, with the correct broad 
 cloth suit and melancholy blue eyes, must belong 
 to the same class as that gambler hero, and the 
 red-faced drover and his friend were probably 
 being " plucked." So great was the young girl's 
 interest in the card-players that she had failed 
 to notice three men who had come on board at 
 the last stop ; not so Philip Rondelet, whom 
 people were wont to call unobservant. He had 
 seen the pair of man-hunters push their manacled 
 prisoner upon the lower deck and chain him by 
 a ring in the gunwale to a log of wood, whereon
 
 214 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 he sat, or rather crouched. The prisoner was 
 a negro of the most degraded type ; a criminal, 
 one could not doubt him to be. Crime was 
 stamped upon his low, animal forehead and 
 frightful wolfish features with terrible distinct 
 ness. So much the occupants of the saloon-deck 
 noted at a glance ; and seeing that, thought no 
 more of the writhing creature swaying on his 
 rough seat with every motion of the boat. But 
 Philip Rondelet, to whom it was given to see all 
 of pain and suffering that crossed his path, ob 
 served that the prisoner was suffering keenly. 
 He passed Margaret's half-open door without a 
 glance, went down the companion-way, and ad 
 dressed one of the men in charge of the prisoner : 
 " That man seems to be in great pain." 
 
 " Think likely," was the laconic reply. The 
 captive groaned. Philip saw that his arm was 
 wounded and in need of care. 
 
 " I am a surgeon," he continued, " and I mean 
 to dress that wound." 
 
 " Hands off my prisoner, young man. I don't 
 stand no interference in my affairs," brutally 
 protested the guardian of the law. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," Philip's voice was as 
 courteous and sweet as if he had been address 
 ing Margaret herself, " but I consider this 
 to be my affair ; and it is I who will brook no 
 interference."
 
 AT AL ANT A IN THE SOUTH. 21$ 
 
 He moved nearer the prisoner. The officer 
 with an oath started to his feet ; and laying his 
 hand on Philip's shoulder, warned him as he loved 
 his life not to lay a finger on the negro. 
 
 The dispute had attracted the attention of 
 some of the passengers, though the card-play 
 ers had not looked up from their game. The 
 instant the officer touched Rondelet, the phy 
 sician wrenched himself from his grasp, and 
 placing himself beside the negro, said in a voice 
 whose silver tones, though hardened to steel, 
 had lost nothing of their polish : " I am a doc 
 tor of medicine. This man is badly hurt, and 
 I propose to dress his wound. I am alone 
 and unarmed, but I mean to put this thing 
 through." 
 
 His voice never shook, though he was covered 
 by the revolver in the bully's hand. 
 
 There was a stir among the passengers. 
 
 " I '11 play you double or quits on the next 
 game," said the red-faced drover. " And now, 
 young man, go ahead with your splintering, and 
 I '11 stand by to see fair play, if it 's only to stop 
 that nigger's d noise." 
 
 He shuffled the cards, handed them to the 
 clerical-looking young man, and cocking his 
 seven-shooter, pointed it at the officer. Quick 
 to see the altered situation, the latter lowered 
 his weapon. It was evident that public sym-
 
 216 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 pathy was with the physician, who was already 
 at work tearing his fine linen handkerchief into 
 narrow strips to form a bandage. The clerical 
 gentleman fetched some water in a tin cup ; and 
 then, resuming his seat, dealt the cards, and the 
 game was taken up at the point where it had 
 been interrupted. Rondelet sponged the ugly 
 wound and deftly disposed the linen- bandage 
 about the arm. 
 
 " Now loosen those handcuffs," he said au 
 thoritatively. 
 
 " I '11 see you damned first," growled the 
 officer. 
 
 " Unlock those bracelets, do you hear ? 
 before I count three. The game's mine." 
 
 It was the drover who spoke, fingering his 
 revolver as he did so. 
 
 The fetters were taken from the prisoner's 
 wrists. 
 
 " Undo the chain that holds him to the log," 
 said Philip. 
 
 The officer swore under his breath ; but after 
 a glance at the faces of the men about him, 
 complied. 
 
 Philip made his patient as comfortable as he 
 could under the circumstances, and after giving 
 him an opiate, turned and left the lower deck. 
 
 Margaret had witnessed the whole scene. 
 She did not speak to him as he passed her
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 21 7 
 
 door on his way to the forward deck, where 
 Mrs. Harden was sitting. 
 
 "What has happened to you, Philip?" Sara 
 Harden asked as soon as he joined her. He 
 told her what had passed. 
 
 She looked at him admiringly, and laid a soft, 
 gemmed hand on his arm. 
 
 " Philip, you are a person for an emergency. 
 How excited you look! See, your hand is posi 
 tively trembling." 
 
 " Yes ? as long as it was firm while I probed 
 the wound, what does it matter ? " He was net 
 tled by what she had said. 
 
 " Philip, I don't believe in platonics, and yet 
 I positively love you at this moment, do you 
 know what I mean? without being a particle 
 in love with you." 
 
 " What is the distinction ? " 
 
 " When one loves a person, it is a disinterested 
 feeling ; when one is in love, one wants the per 
 son for one's own. Now I certainly am not in 
 love with you, for I should n't know what to do 
 with you if you were given to me this moment ; 
 and yet I am quite certain that I love you as I 
 might love a child, and yet you are a great 
 deal better and stronger than I am " 
 
 " You are very good to me, dear friend." 
 
 " I wish I could be really good to you, but I 
 cannot ; you are so quaint and misty and intan-
 
 218 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 gible, I am never quite sure about you. But 
 there, of course you don't care what I feel about 
 you ; the blind of Miss Ruysdale's stateroom is 
 infinitely more interesting to you than anything 
 I can say." 
 
 Philip looked penitent, and made an effort to 
 keep his eyes from wandering in the direction of 
 Margaret's room. 
 
 " You really love her so much ? " 
 
 " You know," he answered simply. 
 
 " Yes, and I know she is n't worthy of it." 
 She was irritated, and spoke sharply. 
 
 " It hurts me to hear you say that, dear friend," 
 he protested. 
 
 " She 's a good, sweet, honest girl," Mrs. Har 
 den continued, " but she no more appreciates 
 you, nor the worth of what you give her, than a 
 royal baby knows the value of his jewelled coral. 
 He breaks it just as carelessly as another child 
 smashes a twopenny rattle. Margaret plays 
 with your heart just as if it were not a solid 
 lump of refined gold, but a miserable pinchbeck 
 thing, like most men's hearts, to be gilded and 
 regilded any number of times to suit the require 
 ments of each new passion." 
 
 " If it is hers to do as she likes with ? " 
 
 " But she will neither take it nor leave it. I 
 know just what she will do, she will trifle with 
 it till "
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 219 
 
 " Listen to me," interrupted Philip. " You say 
 my heart is purer than some other men's. I know 
 not whether this is so ; but if it be true, it is be 
 cause she has purified it, it is because of my love 
 for her. That is my treasure. Whether I win 
 her love or not, I have always my love for her. 
 You pity me, me, who would rather a thousand 
 times give up life itself than outgrow my love. 
 Happy or unhappy, it is more to me than all 
 else. Could I believe for a moment that I could 
 survive this love, I should pray that I might 
 die to-night." 
 
 "It is not often that we women are loved like 
 that, Philip," said Sara Harden very gravely. 
 " I believe I shall think better of men all my life 
 for what you have said to me to-night. You 
 have lifted your whole sex in my estimation, 
 man ami ; and this is not the first noble lesson 
 . that you have taught me, nor will it be the last. 
 It is something for a man to feel that he is un 
 derstood and appreciated even by a woman with 
 whom he is not in love. Believe me, I know the 
 value of your true heart and your honest hand. 
 And now I must go inside. Good night to you ; 
 Dari is waiting for me."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ON the day when our party of friends had left 
 the city, Robert Feuardent also went into the 
 country. The magnet which had kept him in 
 New Orleans for so many weeks was now re 
 moved, and he took the opportunity to visit his 
 forest-home. Many months had elapsed since 
 he had shaken the dust of the city from his feet, 
 and despite the heavy feeling at his heart, his 
 spirits began to rise as he left the noise and 
 tumult of the streets behind him. His emotions 
 that morning had been far from enjoyable as 
 he watched the departure of his friends for the 
 Rondelet plantation. He had concealed himself 
 behind a pile of cotton-bales standing conve 
 niently near that part of the levee from which 
 they had embarked, and had marked that they 
 all seemed in very good spirits. Every mile that 
 he put between himself and the scene of that 
 annoyance seemed to lighten the jealous anger 
 that had galled him. 
 
 What felon in his chains, what sufferer from 
 a grievous disease, what mourner for a beloved
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 221 
 
 one dead, is to be more pitied than that man 
 or woman in whose soul jealousy has taken up 
 its abode ? It is, I believe, the most grievous 
 passion that can sear the heart of man. What 
 crimes will he not commit to appease that demon 
 in his breast, whose presence banishes every 
 tender and human sentiment ? If he be driven 
 by jealousy to the commission of the unpardon 
 able sin, if he shed the life-blood of brother or 
 of wife, what council of his peers but will judge 
 that the demon was stronger than his humanity, 
 and that, just or unjust, his crime must be 
 condoned ? 
 
 It was on the very edge of night that Robert 
 arrived at the little settlement of friendly Indians. 
 He found the wigwams deserted by all save the 
 women and old men. After resting for a few 
 moments, he proceeded to the chapel of the mis 
 sionary priest, situated at a short distance from 
 the hamlet. His way led him over a dilapidated 
 bridge which spanned a bayou contiguous to 
 the great lake. He stepped lightly over the 
 loose-lying planks, which would have failed to 
 support any less wary wayfarer. He knew just 
 how to throw his weight, and could spring from 
 a rotten board before it gave way beneath him. 
 He was midway on his somewhat perilous jour 
 ney when he was hailed by a cheerful voice ; a 
 wagon was fording the bayou, and he recognized
 
 222 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 in its driver an old acquaintance, The horses 
 stopped, obedient to their master's "Whoa, 
 Emma! whoa, Baby !" and stood patiently still 
 in the water, which reached up to the hubs of 
 the wheels. 
 
 " Won't you come up to the house and dine 
 with us ? I have a seat for you in the carriage," 
 asked the driver. He had a cheery voice and 
 kind blue eyes, and the group of children, of 
 all sizes and ages, packed about him echoed the 
 invitation in chorus. 
 
 " Do come up, Robert, and see my new pony," 
 cried a boy, evidently the eldest. 
 
 " Monsieur Feuardent, you never made the 
 kite you promised me," said a demure little 
 girl. 
 
 " We Ve got some new puppies," vouchsafed a 
 chubby urchin of four. 
 
 " We 're going to have a great big turkey for 
 dinner," added a wise maiden of six, who at an 
 early age had divined the surest road to the 
 masculine heart. 
 
 Which argument was the convincing one, I 
 cannot say. Perhaps it was the combined attrac 
 tions of the "great big turkey" and the "pup 
 pies," or it may have been that the prospect 
 of seeing the new pony was too enticing to be 
 resisted; in any case the fact is certain that 
 five minutes later Robert was seated in the
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 22$ 
 
 carriage beside M. Bienveillance, with a child on 
 either knee. 
 
 " I was on my way to seek the Father," ex 
 plained Robert. 
 
 " I am in luck to have met you, then, for he 
 dines with us to-night." 
 
 "And there's going to be suck a big jelly- 
 cake," whispered the little six-year-old. 
 
 " He is well ? it is many months since I have 
 seen him," said Feuardent. 
 
 " Yes, well as ever," replied M. Bienveillance ; 
 " though how he endures such discomforts at his 
 age, amazes me. A wonderful man, sir, and the 
 best human being I have ever known. My wife 
 says his sainthood has begun on this side of 
 eternity." 
 
 By this time the sure-footed horses had strug 
 gled up the incline which led to the bayou, and 
 the carriage was on firm ground again. The 
 road before them led through a thick swampy 
 country, rich with the luxuriance of an almost 
 tropical vegetation. The broad shining leaves of 
 the palmetto overshadowed a thousand smaller 
 plants not less beautiful than itself. In a cleared 
 space, where the ground was high, a group of 
 cattle ceased munching the herbage and turned 
 their great eyes wonderingly at the carriage as 
 it rolled by. A flock of sheep, whose long fleecy 
 wool had left traces on the low underbrush, were
 
 224 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 browsing under the care of a dusky shepherd 
 who saluted the master as he passed. The 
 carriage stopped before a cottage whose wide- 
 roofed piazza, was wreathed with honeysuckle. 
 A lady, sitting in a low chair, rose to meet 
 Feuardent, and bade him welcome to her forest- 
 home. She smiled at her husband as she gave 
 her hand to her guest, and said in a sweet, 
 gracious voice, "You are never more welcome, 
 mon cJier than when you bring with you so 
 agreeable a guest as M. Feuardent." 
 
 The conversation was carried on entirely in 
 French. Madame Bienveillance was a tall, hand 
 some woman with large dark eyes and a red, 
 curved mouth. Her complexion was white and 
 flawless as the thick creamy leaves of the mag 
 nolia blossom which drooped from the ribbon at 
 her waist. Her smile seemed to Feuardent as 
 innocent as that which rested on the features 
 of the child clinging to her skirts. She did the 
 honors of her simple home with a gracious hos 
 pitality often found wanting in more pretentious 
 houses. Her summer-dwelling possessed only 
 four rooms, gathered about a large chimney. 
 These were her own apartment, a guest-chamber, 
 a parlor, and a dining-room rarely used in weather 
 which allowed the table to be spread on the gallery. 
 Near by, another cottage of similar dimensions 
 afforded sleeping and play-rooms to the children;
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 22$ 
 
 a third building was reserved for such guests as 
 were happy enough to enjoy the hospitality of 
 the amiable couple. 
 
 " What news do you bring us from the city ? 
 M. Feuardent, I shall consider you in the light of 
 an animated society-newspaper, through whose 
 columns I may gather something of what my 
 friends in New Orleans are doing," said Madame 
 Bienveillance. 
 
 Poor Robert was at a loss to answer her. He 
 had lived so entirely in his own emotions for 
 weeks past that he had neither thought nor 
 cared about the rest of the world. He only 
 knew about Margaret ; and he was on the point 
 of yielding to the lover's impulse to talk of his 
 beloved, even to a stranger, when a step was 
 heard on the path and a tall, gaunt figure 
 approached them. 
 
 " Man ptre, you are most welcome ; it is long 
 since you have broken bread with us," the lady 
 said, greeting the new-comer affectionately. 
 
 " It is not longer ago than this morning since 
 I have eaten of thy bread, my daughter. My 
 other friends say that thou dost more than thy 
 share in keeping my larder supplied. How is 
 this, Robert Feuarclent, the deserter, here? 
 Thy wigwam has lost its roof, thy friends have 
 almost forgotten thy face, thy dogs acknowledge 
 a new master. What hast thou found in the 
 '5
 
 226 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 city so attractive that thou hast so neglected 
 those whom thou hast professed to love above 
 all others?" 
 
 Robert hung his head and blushed like a 
 school-boy detected in some naughty prank. 
 
 The keen-eyed old man looked at him closely 
 for a moment, and seeing his perturbation, turned 
 to the children, who had come to speak with 
 him. The priest was a remarkable-looking man, 
 who carried his threescore and ten years lightly. 
 His face was a variable one. When it was bent, 
 as now, over the little children, it was tender 
 and full of light ; so it looked when he walked 
 among his Indians, to whose welfare he had 
 devoted the greater part of his life. They had 
 adopted him as a member of their tribe, and the 
 name they had given him signified the affection 
 in which they held him. His broad philan 
 thropic brow, his large, kindly mouth, betrayed 
 the lover of men, satisfied in giving up his life 
 for their advancement ; but the quick, restless 
 dark eyes sometimes had a look of profound 
 sorrow in their depths, of whose source Robert 
 had often vainly conjectured. Madame Bienveil- 
 lance, with her quicker womanly instinct, saw 
 in this trait of melancholy, whose existence the 
 priest would have eagerly denied, the result of 
 some great trial or disappointment suffered dur 
 ing his life in that world which he now apostro-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 22/ 
 
 phized as heartless, godless, loveless. For him 
 the solitude of the woods, the companionship of 
 the wild men, the song of the forest bird, sufficed. 
 He wondered that men of heart and intellect 
 could endure the stifling atmosphere of cities, 
 and claimed that only through that intimacy 
 with Nature which the solitudes of the wilder 
 ness afford can the soul rise to the height of 
 communion with the Divine. Yet toward that 
 world which he had quitted, and of which he 
 spoke such hard things, his thoughts ever turned, 
 if it was but to compare it with the paradise he 
 claimed to have found in the deserted places. 
 
 The evening passed quickly and pleasantly. 
 Robert's melancholy was soon dispelled by the 
 cheerful influences of the happy home circle. 
 Shortly after dinner he disappeared in company 
 with the children, the two younger ones seated 
 on his broad shoulders and clinging about his 
 neck with the remorseless grip of a pair of 
 young grislies. 
 
 " Do not stifle your kind friend," cautioned 
 Madame Bienveillance. But the youngsters only 
 screamed louder than before, and the smaller 
 boy on the left shoulder buried his hands in 
 Robert's hair, crying, 
 
 " When one rides without bridle, one must 
 hold on by the mane." 
 
 "When one rides without spurs, one must
 
 228 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 use one's heels," echoed the child on the right 
 shoulder, suiting the action to the word. 
 
 In a moment the obstreperous rider was landed 
 on a high shelf, from which he was only lifted 
 on parole of good behavior. The puppies were 
 next visited and duly admired. They were the 
 property of the little six-year-old girl. 
 
 " Monsieur Feuardent shall have one of the 
 puppies," she cried. " Choose whichever one you 
 want, you can have any of them except the white 
 one, because I named him for papa, he is so 
 fat ; and the spotted one, I gave that one to 
 my big brother ; and this one, which is a little 
 lame, I must keep him myself, because no one 
 else will be so kind to him." 
 
 " That only leaves Robert the ugly little black 
 fellow. Papa says he is not worth raising ; that 
 is the reason you are so generous with him, 
 Greedy," teased the big brother. 
 
 The child began to cry, and presently sobbed 
 out, 
 
 " I am sure I am not greedy, and it is very 
 mean of you to say so. I gave you your first 
 choice, but you shall not have him now. I 
 always liked the spotted one best myself." 
 
 "You didn't; you don't know enough," re 
 torted the boy. " It is only because I said he 
 was the best marked, and you only pretended 
 to give me my choice, so as to find out which
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 229 
 
 was the best one, and then take it back from me 
 the first chance you got, just like girls ! " 
 
 " I like the black one best," interposed Robert. 
 " Black dogs are better for grown people than 
 white, or even spotted ones." 
 
 The little girl smiled through her tears and 
 laid the ugly black creature in Robert's hand. 
 The boy looked somewhat sceptical, but he did 
 not quite dare to question Mr. Feuardent's last 
 statement ; and the puppy being carefully laid in 
 a small basket packed with straw, a game of 
 romps ensued, which rivalled the antics of the 
 most playful of puppies. Bedtime came all too 
 soon, and the playfellows parted regretfully, 
 Robert joining the elders at the main house, 
 carrying his basket on his arm. The gifts of 
 children are very serious matters to them, and 
 Robert was too tender-hearted to refuse the ugly 
 little creature yelping in its straw nest. 
 
 He found the missionary in an excellent vein. 
 He was recounting to Madame Bienveillance 
 some of the incidents of the forty years passed 
 among the Louisiana Indians, and Robert, seat 
 ing himself, listened to the stories, some of which 
 were already known to him. He had been for 
 years so familiar with the life of this solitary old 
 man that he had perhaps sometimes ignored its 
 beauty and its pathos. The outlines of things 
 at which we look too closely are sometimes
 
 230 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 blurred ; those who stand at a distance often get 
 the true values which we miss by being too 
 near. Robert was very silent as they drove 
 afterward to the home of the priest, where he 
 was to pass the night. M. Bienveillance, who 
 had accompanied them so far, took leave of 
 Robert, cordially inviting him to return to his 
 house the following day. The kindly man, whose 
 name so well expressed his nature, touched his 
 horses with the whip, and was soon lost to view 
 as the carriage disappeared down the narrow 
 wood-road. They heard his cheery voice calling 
 to his animals in the distance, and then the 
 silence of the forest settled down upon them. 
 
 The home of the priest was situated under 
 a spreading live-oak whose undermost branches 
 scarcely cleared the roof of the lowly structure. 
 The rough wooden building, had it not been dig 
 nified by the cross which rose above it, canopied 
 by the spreading branches of the tree, might have 
 passed for the cabin of a wood-cutter. Its in 
 terior was hardly superior to the outside. A few 
 rough benches, some religious pictures on the 
 wall, and an altar as simple as was the priest 
 who officiated before it, these were all it con 
 tained. At one end a small space was partitioned 
 off from the church, and here was spread the 
 couch of the missionary, a blanket thrown 
 over a bed of bare wooden planks.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 231 
 
 "Thou knewest how thou wouldst fare with 
 me, Robert, when thou didst decline to remain 
 with our friends," said the priest. 
 
 " I have not yet forgotten how to cut my bed 
 from the pine-branches, father, though it is long 
 since I have slept on such a fragrant mattress," 
 Robert returned. 
 
 "And why hast thou remained so many 
 months away from thy friends ? Thou lovest 
 not the confessional, I know, but speak to me 
 as to thy friend. Thou hast a burden on thy 
 heart, Robert ; thou art not the free, light- 
 hearted youth thou wert a year ago." 
 
 The young man hesitated, loath to grieve his 
 friend with the recital of the troublous events of 
 the past winter. The priest was so far removed 
 from the world's grossness that it seemed a 
 wrong to desecrate his forest-chapel with a story 
 of passion, of bloodshed, of cowardice, of deceit, 
 and of human love. 
 
 " Speak, my son," said the priest authori 
 tatively. 
 
 The old habit of obedience prevailed, and 
 Robert complied with the father's exhortation to 
 confide in him. 
 
 The hour was late when the two friends lay 
 down to sleep, the priest on his hard bed, the 
 youth on the floor beside him. The silence of 
 the woods, the fatigues he had endured, and the
 
 232 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 freshness of his fragrant couch insured a long 
 sleep to Feuardent. The sun was high in the 
 heavens when he awoke. He found beside him 
 a pitcher of water, bread and meat, and a cup 
 of coffee, fragant and inviting, prepared by the 
 father's own hands. It was Sunday morning, 
 and from the sounds in the adjoining chapel 
 Robert judged that preparations for service were 
 in progress. Dressing noiselessly, he made his 
 escape through the window and betook himself 
 to the Indian settlement, not far distant. While 
 the priest was ministering to the spiritual needs 
 of his dusky flock, Robert, in company with a 
 pair of Sabbath-breaking redskins, went on a 
 hunting tour, the result of which was highly 
 favorable to the larder of his host. Through 
 the well-known haunts he tramped, whistling as 
 he went an old Creole love-song, his gun on his 
 shoulder, his dogs following him. He was think 
 ing joyfully of Margaret ; yesterday's dark mood 
 had been dispelled by the scenes and faces which 
 were so familiarly dear to him, and by the coun 
 sels of that wise old man who had so little of 
 this world about him. 
 
 Robert Feuardent felt all the beauty of his 
 forest home because something in him claimed 
 kindred with the wood-life. He felt but could 
 not express the delights of an existence governed 
 only by the laws of Nature. The priest, who
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 233 
 
 was born a poet, was never weary of contrasting 
 the peace of the forest with the turmoil of the 
 world in which he had suffered so keenly, and 
 which he could never quite forget. The glow 
 ing panegyrics which he pronounced upon the 
 desert which had so hospitably sheltered him 
 had been listened to by Robert in other days 
 with scant attention. The world, which the 
 priest had characterized as " barbarously sophis 
 tical " and "coldly refined," had been to him a 
 pleasant place enough. He had found friends 
 and amusements there, and had lived its life as 
 thoughtlessly and gayly as he had lived the forest 
 life. He had on the whole preferred the com 
 panionship of the wood people ; but not because 
 he found the world people heartless or cruel. It 
 had been a mere matter of taste wkh him. Now, 
 he saw things very differently. He listened to 
 the words of the missionary with an unwonted 
 attention ; he realized how the pure-minded man 
 must have been outraged by the shams and 
 the lies, the selfishness and cruelty, of society. 
 " The rottenness of the great world " had, to 
 use his own words, " forced him to fly from it, 
 as from a pestilential corpse, to the forest which 
 God made as a refuge for man when every other 
 refuge is denied him." 
 
 By sundown Robert had come back from his 
 day's hunting, and the two men were sitting before
 
 234 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH, 
 
 the door of the little chapel, under the shade of 
 the friendly oak. A half-caste Indian boy was 
 seated near them, busily engaged in stripping 
 the birds Robert had shot. The huntsman 
 himself was cleaning his gun ; his dogs lay at 
 his feet. The black puppy, which had already 
 made friends with them, was rolling over the 
 tired creatures, who were too sleepy to heed the 
 impudent youngster. 
 
 " What you say may be true, father," said Rob 
 ert, gathering a wisp of grass which he rammed 
 vigorously into, the barrel of his fowling-piece ; 
 " but look at the woods. Things die and decom 
 pose here ; but new flowers bloom every day from 
 what yesterday was foul decay. Look now at this 
 piece of wood," he paused in his work and 
 picked up a branch, " it is quite rotten, it has 
 lain in the water for months ; but to-day this 
 beautiful pink flower has bloomed from it. Is 
 not this same thing going on in the world ? " 
 
 The priest did not answer directly. He looked 
 at his young friend silently for a few moments, 
 and then said : " Dost thou think that thou canst 
 understand the world ? Thou art but a boy." 
 
 " I have grown ten years older in the last six 
 months," persisted the younger man ; " I am a 
 boy no longer ; and I now know that I can never 
 live as you do, away from the world." 
 
 " I have never counselled it, Robert."
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 235 
 
 " No, father, you have not. You have said to 
 me that I must try to live with civilized men, 
 and that not till I had seen, as you have seen, 
 their falseness and their barbarity, could I enjoy 
 deliverance from their society. I once listened 
 to you, and I believed you. Now I know that I 
 am not strong enough to live alone as you have 
 done. I need the contact with other men, even 
 if they are sinful. I am sinful too ; and as I 
 am sorry for them, so will they be for me. As 
 I am glad when they are happy, so will they 
 rejoice with me." 
 
 " Alone, saidst thou, alone ? " cried the enthu 
 siast, ignoring the rest of the sentence, " O 
 sightless eyes that cannot see ! O deaf ears that 
 cannot hear ! I have the immaculate maiden 
 Nature for my companion. What woman wilt 
 thou show me with such infinite variety of love 
 liness ? Each day her face wears a new expres 
 sion ; every hour her mood changes ; whether 
 she smile or frown, she is always faithful, always 
 tender. If she whispers to me in the soft mur- 
 murings of the night, if she sings to me with 
 the voice of the wood-bird, if she soothes me 
 with the wind sighing through the trees, if her 
 voice startles me in the crash of the thunder 
 and calls me in the mighty melody of the river, 
 it is to tell me with each of her myriad voices 
 that she loves me."
 
 236 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 The priest had risen, speaking passionately, 
 his hands clasped, his eyes raised to the towering 
 oak-tree, through whose branches the sunbeams 
 filtered about him like a glory. Robert, still 
 busy with his gun, glanced at the inspired face, 
 and with a sigh went on with his work. 
 
 " Madame Bienveillance is right," he said to 
 himself ; " he is a saint already." 
 
 Meanwhile the boy had finished his task ; and 
 after building a fire in the hollow stump of a tree, 
 proceeded to broil the game after the approved 
 Indian fashion. When it was ready, he laid 
 the table, a service which was speedily accom 
 plished, for the best of reasons. When the sim 
 ple preparations were complete, the child, whose 
 reverence for the inspired moods of the priest 
 was not equal to Robert's, who would never have 
 dared to call that pure spirit from its lofty com- 
 munings, pulled the missionary by the arm and 
 pointed silently to the table. 
 
 " Robert, I have not fared so well since thou 
 wert last here. Tell me, does the New Orleans 
 market afford such trout as these, such a pair of 
 ducks ? " 
 
 " Yes, father, I think it does," answered Rob 
 ert, eying the smoking viands hungrily ; " it is 
 the appetite that is lacking in the city." 
 
 He moved toward the table. 
 
 " See the delicate markings on this fish ! "
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 237 
 
 continued the priest ; " I wonder thou hadst the 
 heart to keep him for thy prey, he is so beautiful 
 a creature." 
 
 Robert's nostrils were tickled by the crisp 
 fragrance of the roasted trout. 
 
 " I am too busy in smelling the fish, and shall 
 soon be in tasting it, I hope, to care much for 
 its markings," cried Robert. " Dorit let the 
 good food get cold, father." 
 
 " Thou art hungry indeed, Robert," answered 
 the priest ; and making no further delay, he asked 
 the blessing, without which Robert would not 
 have dared to touch a crust of his bread. The 
 two friends sat down side by side on a rough 
 bench, and the dusky child served them silently. 
 
 " We do not often feast like this, do we, my 
 boy ?" said the priest kindly. 
 
 The child shook his head, still speechless. 
 
 " Whose son is this ? " asked Robert ; "he 
 must be a stranger, since he will not speak 
 before me." 
 
 " Yes ; thou hast never seen him before," re 
 turned the missionary. " The fact that my 
 Indians refuse to enter into conversation with 
 strange white people is not without a sad sig 
 nificance," he added ; " they have been so abused 
 by the dominant I cannot call it the superior 
 race, that they suspect all of its children who 
 fall in their way. This boy here knows, young
 
 238 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 as he is, that he may say too much if he talks 
 before you. You are, in his eyes, probably a 
 government agent, and he has been taught that 
 they are to be distrusted, even when they make 
 friendly overtures. They fear the Greeks bring 
 ing gifts." 
 
 " Why, what have the Greeks got to do with 
 the Indians or the government ? " queried Rob 
 ert, filling and lighting his pipe as he spoke. 
 
 " Thou didst not love thy studies at school, or 
 thou wouldst not ask. Of the knowledge that is 
 had from books, Robert, thou art sadly ignorant ; 
 and in this thou art wrong. There is yet time 
 for thee to cultivate a love of learning ; thy mind 
 is good. Like the Indians, thou never forgettest 
 what thou hast seen or heard. I, too, have a 
 keen memory ; and how richly is it peopled with 
 the heroes of the poets ! When thou art old 
 like me, and canst no more spend thy leisure 
 in hunting and breaking wild horses, how wilt 
 thou pass thy time ? Do as I have done, and 
 take from men their noblest inspirations. My 
 solitude has for its companions the men and 
 women born in the dreams of the great writers 
 of the world. In leaving that world behind 
 me, I took with me the best things that it has 
 produced." 
 
 The father's speech was here interrupted by 
 an Indian woman, who rushed from the thicket,
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 239 
 
 and throwing herself at his feet besought him 
 to come to her husband, who was either dying 
 or bewitched. The good man stopped only to 
 gather together those necessaries of spiritual- 
 and physical ministration which the sufferer 
 might require, a few phials of medicine and 
 the vessels for the sacrament of extreme unc 
 tion, and disappeared down the woodland 
 path, followed by the weeping woman. The boy 
 having fed himself, the dogs, and the puppy, 
 quenched the embers of the fire with water 
 from the spring near by, and nodding to Robert, 
 departed without a word of greeting, taking the 
 same direction as the priest. 
 
 With only his dogs for company, Robert sat 
 before the chapel, watching the death of the day, 
 and the night darkening in the skies and through 
 the odorous forest. He listened to those silent 
 noises of the night which are felt rather than 
 heard, and in his mind reviewed all the things 
 the priest had said to him. He had been in the 
 forest only twenty-four hours, and yet yesterday 
 appeared a year ago. It seemed impossible to 
 him that so short a distance, so brief a space of 
 time, divided him from the city where he had but 
 the day before seen Margaret stepping on board 
 the little steamer, supported by Philip's arm. 
 The thought which had yesterday tortured him, 
 he now smiled at. The cool forest breeze had
 
 240 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 blown the mists of the city from his eyes (thus 
 he reasoned), and now he knew that Margaret 
 loved him ! How could he doubt it ? Had he 
 "fiot felt that she belonged to him from the hour 
 when they had danced together, had breathed the 
 perfume of the same flowers, and felt the same 
 irresistible influence of the spring thrilling in 
 their veins ? Had he not heard her love in the 
 low cry she gave that night when he exonerated 
 his friend and acknowledged that it was his hand 
 which had shed the blood of Fernand Thoron ? 
 Had he not seen it in the drooping lines of her 
 lithe body as she stood, all white and quivering, 
 as if she had been struck with a mortal blow ? 
 He had hesitated long enough ; he would go and 
 woo and win the woman he loved. He would 
 pursue her as arduously as ever Indian lover pur 
 sued his fleeing bride. He would have her for 
 his own. What power in the world was so strong 
 as the passion in his breast ? Love, that had 
 o'erturned an empire, was it not strong enough 
 to conquer this girl who mocked him and called 
 him a savage ? 
 
 He was speaking his thoughts aloud now, while 
 he paced up and down the narrow clearing. On 
 the same spot where the priest had breathed his 
 fervent apostrophe to Nature, Robert paused, 
 and raising his arms above his head, cried with 
 a voice deep as the sound of the sea : " I will
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 241 
 
 have her for my own ; she is mine, mine, 
 mine ! " 
 
 A branch rustled near him, and putting aside 
 the leaves, the priest joined his friend. The old 
 man's holy face was very pale, his eyes shone 
 with the brilliancy of youth. What thoughts 
 had the words of this boisterous lover raised in 
 his heart ? He laid his thin hand on the young 
 man's shoulder and said in a faint, low voice, 
 which contrasted as strangely with the full tones 
 that had just now echoed in the forest as did 
 his tall, emaciated body with the powerful frame 
 beside him : " She shall be thine ; and when 
 she is dead or faithless, come to me, or if my 
 release has been granted, come to my forest 
 for consolation." 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE balsam of the pine-trees, the quiet of the 
 woods, failed to content for long the child who 
 had so often found consolation and peace in his 
 forest home. The burning fire in his heart 
 parched his whole being. Back to the city he 
 must go ; the Indians could not cheer him, as 
 they had so often done in times past. The 
 priest, whose simple life he had shared so hap 
 pily in other days, had no words of counsel now 
 to help him. What did he know of love and its 
 fierce pain, he whose life had been vowed to the 
 worship of an immaculate goddess ? Back to 
 the city, where is no peace, no song of bird, 
 no soft footstep of hidden wood-creature ! His 
 feet would fain tread the burning streets again 
 because they led to her dwelling ; while the odor 
 ous aisles strewn with pine-needles lose them 
 selves in lonely thickets, fit only for happy lovers 
 or for men wedded to their own thoughts ! 
 
 After a short visit, the briefest he had ever 
 made them, Robert left the village of his Indian 
 friends and set his face towards the city. He
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 243 
 
 took leave of the holy man just at nightfall, and 
 made his way through the woods, guided by the 
 familiar indications on the trees. It was a breath 
 less night ; the stars looked far away and dim 
 beside one blazing planet that hung low in the 
 horizon over the city. Never had he seen that 
 queen of planets so bright. She shone forth 
 with a mellow radiance, beside which the young 
 moon looked pale and chilly in comparison. At 
 a point where three paths converged, the way 
 farer stopped, and falling on his knees, held up 
 his hands adoring, beseeching the point of yellow 
 flame which shone down upon New Orleans. 
 
 His lips moved. Could he be praying to the 
 evening star, or was he apostrophizing the Love 
 it typifies ? Ere his journey was half accom 
 plished, the star had set ; but would it not rise 
 on the morrow ? Early in the morning he 
 reached the city, having walked since sunset. 
 The streets were quiet ; and foot-weary as he 
 was, he yielded to the temptation of looking 
 upon his maiden's dwelling before he went to 
 rest. The little house looked very friendly. 
 The blinds of the lower rooms were open, and 
 his eyes sought the corner where Margaret was 
 wont to sit of an evening with her small tea- 
 table beside her. All was as he had last seen 
 it. With a light step he passed to the garden, 
 and finding the studio-door unlocked, entered
 
 244 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 the familiar room. There lay her apron as she 
 had left it, thrown over a chair. He had the 
 little blue garment, which still showed the im 
 press of a rounded shoulder, in his arms in 
 an instant, and kissed it passionately. 
 
 Now that he was so near her, he could not go 
 away without looking upon her face. The hun 
 ger in him for sight and sound and touch of her 
 was stronger than aught beside. He would wait, 
 and while waiting he would sleep a little ; it was 
 early yet, and he was passing weary. There was 
 no couch in the room, and he stretched himself 
 upon a tiger-skin on the floor, and was asleep 
 ere he could have counted six of his own heart 
 beats. 
 
 As he slept, a strange dream came to him. 
 He was aware of a creature bending over 
 him, at once as beautiful and as deadly as 
 the tiger on whose skin he lay. Through his 
 heavily closed lids the malignant light of two 
 strange red-brown eyes seemed to burn into 
 his brain, a warm breath passed over his face. 
 He stirred in his sleep and tried to open his 
 eyes. In vain ! A voice low and musical as the 
 murmur of his forest pine-trees chanted words 
 whose sound alone reached him in the distant 
 sleep-world : " And the sins of the fathers shall 
 be visited upon the children. Do you hear me? 
 It is not I who do this thing, but the avenger.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 24$ 
 
 How beautiful you are, Robert ! I could almost 
 love you, were it not forbidden." The words 
 ceased ; a faint perfume was wafted over him ; 
 some one had kissed him as he slept, a kiss 
 burning, yet tender. He had dreamed of such 
 kisses before ; but those dream-embraces were 
 given by a pale maiden with a small rose mouth 
 like a half-unfolded flower, not by this tall wo 
 man with fiery dark eyes and lips as red as blood 
 who was now kneeling beside him. 
 
 With an effort he awoke and started to his 
 feet, confused and terrified, only to fall back 
 faint and sick, a sharp pain in his side, a cry 
 of agony on his lips. He had been stabbed ; and 
 on the floor beside him lay a jewelled crystal dag 
 ger, whose rubies looked pale beside the crimson 
 dye that stained it. He had been stabbed, and 
 he must die unless that red tide creeping across 
 the tiger-skin could be stanched. Beside him 
 was the little blue garment ; he had slept with 
 it in his embrace. With his last remaining 
 strength he pressed the vesture of the woman 
 he loved close to the gaping wound ; and then 
 his very soul seemed to be borne away on the 
 stream of scarlet life-blood creeping across the 
 tiger-skin toward the door. 
 
 Nearer and nearer to the sill stole the narrow 
 thread of scarlet liquor, every drop of which les 
 sened his chances of life. It stopped at the
 
 246 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 threshold and widened into a little pool, and 
 lay there sparkling in the light of the sun that 
 shone alike on flower and tree, on clear falling 
 fountain, on singing-bird, and on the stricken, 
 bleeding man. 
 
 Philip Rondelet was a light sleeper, and the 
 man who had come to rouse him had need to 
 knock but once, though it was just the hour of 
 sunrise, when he was wont to sleep most soundly. 
 His visitor proved to be the dago, the half- 
 brother of Theresa's mother. He shambled into 
 the room through the door which Philip held half 
 open, and stated his errand. Therese had been 
 wilder than ever of late ; her mother believed her 
 mad, but he himself knew better. She had made 
 a promise to the dead ; and those who make prom 
 ises to the dead are never easy till they have 
 kept their word. The man nodded at Philip as if 
 confident that he was understood, and then went 
 on with his story. They had watched her till they 
 were both weary, and the night before she had es 
 caped them, " taking that which she always car 
 ries Jiere with her," he added, significantly striking 
 his breast and making a gesture as of stabbing. 
 The mother had sought her everywhere. They 
 had been to his house, and learned that she had 
 passed that way, and talked with the servants 
 of where she might find him. They knew not
 
 AT ALA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 247 
 
 where else to seek her. Monsieur was his friend. 
 Perhaps it would be well if he should warn him ? 
 Mad or not, the girl was a dangerous creature. 
 It was an ill day when she had come back to 
 them with her foreign ways and ideas of being a 
 lady, a lady, and too good to live and eat with 
 her own flesh and blood ! 
 
 As he ceased speaking, the man gave an ugly 
 laugh and smote his red cap upon his knee with 
 an angry gesture. 
 
 As he listened to the man's story, Philip 
 hastily dressed himself, and by the time the 
 dago had finished, he was ready. They went out 
 together, a strangely contrasted pair, the tall and 
 graceful figure of Rondelet, aristocratic in out- N 
 line, exquisite in dress, towering above the short, 
 heavily-built plebeian, strong and stupid as an ox. 
 By that subtler sense of intuition he knew where 
 to seek Robert ; and while he was making all 
 speed to reach and warn him, a suggestion floated 
 through his mind whose baseness was only real 
 ized in the moment when it was indignantly 
 dismissed, " Why should he interfere ? Why 
 should he step out of his way to warn his rival 
 of a possible danger, of a fate which he perhaps 
 deserved ? " 
 
 He shuddered as he understood the full mean 
 ing of that whispered temptation, and was thank 
 ful to see by the unabated pace of his companion
 
 248 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 that his feet had not faltered one instant on their 
 errand of warning. 
 
 So it is that to the most noble, to the most 
 white-souled of men, come thoughts of evil, 
 promptings of the lower nature. It is not, as 
 unwilling sinners would fain believe, that the 
 good are so by nature and without effort ; it is 
 that they have strength to strangle the evil 
 thought before it becomes a deed, to tear out 
 the base desire and cast it from them before 
 it is fulfilled. 
 
 All was quiet at Margaret's dwelling, no sign 
 of life about the house or garden. His imagi 
 nation, without doubt, had tricked him. The 
 flowers bloomed serenely, the bird in the mag 
 nolia-tree twittered to her little ones, and the cat, 
 sunning herself under the piazza rail, rubbed her 
 nose against his legs in friendly greeting. The 
 studio door stood ajar. He stepped quickly over 
 the threshold ; his foot slipped on something 
 shiny and treacherous, and as he saved himself 
 from falling, he saw lying before him the form 
 of his friend Robert Feuardent, his face white 
 and set with the. look of death. The dago saw all 
 this too, and one thing more, a small dagger, 
 which glistened in the light and broke the sun 
 beams into splinters of colors more splendid than 
 the rarest gems. He hid the weapon in his 
 breast, with a watchful glance at Philip to see
 
 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 249 
 
 whether the action was observed ; but the physi 
 cian either did not see or purposely ignored what 
 the other had done, his attention being riveted 
 on the man so grievously in need of his utmost 
 skill. As with the aid of his rough companion 
 Philip busied himself over the wounded man, his 
 thoughts reverted to a scene not unlike this one. 
 He half expected to see the face of Jean Thoron, 
 of his young colleague, of Therese, beside him as 
 he turned from the wounded man ; but he was 
 alone with the dago. 
 
 There was one more point of difference in the 
 case, Fernand Thoron had been doomed to die 
 from the first, and the man who had killed him 
 had one chance of life left.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IF one must be ill at all, the H6tel-Dieu is a 
 pleasant place to be ill in. It stands back from 
 the street ; a stretch of cool green turf, shaded 
 by manifold trees and sweetened by innumer 
 able flowers, lying between it and the dusty 
 thoroughfare. Looking between the bars of the 
 high-grated gate, one may catch a glimpse of 
 the interior, where light-footed sisters of mercy 
 glide from room to room, ministering to the sick 
 who are so fortunate as to come under their 
 gentle care. Late one afternoon, perhaps a week 
 from the day when Robert Feuardent had been 
 brought to the hospital senseless and wounded 
 nigh unto death, his friend and physician rang 
 at the gate. From the dark interior came two 
 white-coifed nuns passing down the wide steps 
 and along the flagged path to admit him. 
 
 "How is he this evening?" he asked anx 
 iously, as the elder sister, taking a key from her 
 girdle, unlocked the gate. 
 
 " He has been worrying himself almost into a 
 fever, calling for you ; but his head is quite clear, 
 I think."
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 2$l 
 
 "Philip, how long you have been!" cried the 
 sufferer impatiently, as Rondelet entered the 
 small room where he lay, the one vivid thing in 
 the white and spotless cell. 
 
 " I am sorry, Robert, I could not come sooner ; 
 but you are so much better, you really do not 
 need me," Rondelet said gently. 
 
 " I need you more than ever, for I have some 
 thing to say to you." 
 
 The physician shook his head and touched 
 his patient's wrist ; but Robert would not be 
 denied. 
 
 " Philip, dear Philip," he cried, " let me talk 
 to you to-night ! I must tell you something that 
 weighs upon me." 
 
 Another repetition ! Save that it was a man's 
 face lying flushed and pain-racked among the 
 pillows, a man's voice that pleaded with him, 
 Philip felt that he might have been reacting the 
 scene of weeks ago, when Therese had told him 
 the story of her wrongs and grief. He was so 
 startled by the vivid recollection that for the 
 moment he said nothing, and only took his 
 friend's hot hand in both of his. 
 
 " Philip, if I die and I know that I may die 
 promise me that you will tell Margaret Ruys- 
 dale the secret I am going to confide to you 
 now." 
 
 " I promise."
 
 252 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 Rondelet felt a foreknowledge of what was 
 coming ; he was as sure as that he lived that he 
 was to hear more of the story of Therese than 
 she had ever told him. The last link in the chain 
 was to be supplied ; he was to learn what bond 
 there was between Robert and Therese that had 
 made the man so merciful and forbearing, the 
 woman so full of pitiless hatred. 
 
 "You remember the day when those blood 
 hounds were here, wearying me with their 
 questions ? " the patient continued. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I told them that I did not know who struck 
 me. It was a lie ; you knew it was a lie when I 
 spoke it. I saw that you knew as well as if you 
 had seen her, who it was that struck the blow." 
 
 Philip bowed his head in assent. 
 
 " Yes, it was she, Therese," Robert went on 
 eagerly ; " and because she is a woman and heed 
 less, and because the bloodhounds are keen of 
 scent, they will track her, and it will be known 
 that I fell by her hand. You must save her ; 
 and when she is safe, you must go to Margaret 
 and tell her all. She knows half the story ; it is 
 not fair that she should not hear the rest. No, 
 do not wait ; tell her to-night. Therese is the 
 cause of all this misery, and yet I must protect 
 her; for Philip, come closer I swore to my 
 father on his death-bed that I would shield her
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 253 
 
 always because he my father, was her 
 father, and because, before God, she is my 
 sister," 
 
 " Your sister ? " 
 
 " Yes, my sister. Her mother - you have 
 seen her is half Spanish, half negro ; she 
 belonged to my father." 
 
 " Therese your sister ! " repeated Philip. " I 
 thought she was " he hesitated. 
 
 "My mistress? Ay, and so does the rest of 
 the world ; it may be that Margaret thinks this 
 thing of me." 
 
 "Now I begin to understand it all," said Philip. 
 " You tried to separate her from Thoron ? " 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Robert ; " how could I see 
 her openly disgraced and brought to shame ? 
 She was gently bred, reared like a lady, in 
 ignorance of what she was. If she had been 
 my own sister she could not have been more 
 tenderly nurtured. I strove to induce her to 
 leave him. She would not listen to me, and 
 appealed to him ; in the quarrel that ensued, he 
 forced me to fight. You know the rest well 
 enough." 
 
 "Yes," said Philip, speaking slowly and gravely, 
 " yes, I know it all ; and I know that with his 
 dying breath Fernand Thoron called upon that 
 woman to bear witness that the fault was his 
 alone, and that you were not to blame."
 
 254 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " He said that ? Swear to me that you are 
 telling the truth ! " 
 
 " I have never lied in my life." 
 
 " Philip ! " The name died on his lips, and 
 the hand that clasped Rondelet's grew cold. 
 Robert had fainted. He came to his senses 
 only to fall into a deep sleep ; and Philip, as he 
 watched him, was convinced that the corner was 
 turned, and that the morning would see his 
 patient out of danger. 
 
 Before he slept that night Rondelet had a 
 duty 'to perform, a message to deliver. He 
 stopped at the Ruysdales on his way from the 
 hospital to Jackson Square. Margaret was ex 
 pecting him. The evening was very warm, and 
 the young girl was sitting on the veranda with 
 her father. Sara Harden and her faithful cava 
 lier, Bouton de Rose, arrived just as Philip came 
 up the steps. 
 
 " Ah, Philippe le bel, it is you ! " cried Mrs. 
 Harden. " Never were you more welcome than 
 at this moment, what news of Feuardent?" 
 
 Margaret's eyes had already asked the ques 
 tion. . 
 
 " He is much better to-night ; I think I can 
 almost pronounce him out of danger." 
 
 "There's no killing a fellow like that," said 
 Bouton de Rose. " He is a Hercules. What a 
 physique, what muscles ! A gladiator ! "
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 255 
 
 " Yes ; there 's a great deal of him to kill," said 
 Mrs. Harden, dryly. 
 
 When she found that Robert was in a fair way 
 to recover, her womanly compassion was for 
 gotten, and her old prejudice against Philip's 
 rival came back. 
 
 " What a tragic year this has been ! " she con 
 tinued ; " enough of Ynelodrama to fill a five-act 
 play. I think it very vulgar and third-rate, all 
 this blood and murder and detectives. One is 
 obliged to know so much about it all, too, in this 
 country. They manage these things better in 
 France, do they not, Comte ? " 
 
 " Ah ! madame is always so amiable in her 
 recollections of my country." 
 
 " Because it 's my country too, and Mr. Ron- 
 delet's also. Paris belongs to the world, not 
 only to the French. Is it not so Philip ? You 
 are at heart more of a Frenchman than an 
 American." 
 
 " I certainly was once, Mrs. Harden. To-day 
 I cannot say. I feel very differently about my 
 own country." 
 
 " Tiens ! This is a change of base. Why, 
 six months ago I heard you declare, I remem 
 ber your very words, ' I would give my life 
 for this country, because it would be my duty to 
 do so ; I would die for France because I love 
 her.' "
 
 256 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " That was the expression of a momentary en 
 thusiasm," said the Count. " Besides, what could 
 be more natural ? M. Rondelet is French in 
 name, in blood, is it not so? largely even 
 by education. Allez ! it is most natural, he is 
 more than half a Frenchman. I have always 
 claimed you as a compatriot, mon cker" 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Harden with a sigh, she 
 was unaccountably depressed this evening, 
 " Philip is changed. He once had time to read 
 with me, to walk with me, to sing with me, to be, 
 in short, a little companionable ; now he has 
 taken up his profession, and my husband tells 
 me he is the hardest worked doctor in town. 
 What 's the use of working ? I hate work ; but 
 the provoking thing is that you working people 
 are always the most amusing, while idlers like 
 myself are very boresome to me. It 's a hard old 
 world." 
 
 Margaret laughed as she had not laughed for 
 a week, and patted her friend's soft hand, 
 saying, 
 
 "You work too hard in trying to amuse your 
 self ; there is no harder work than that in the 
 world." 
 
 " Now, Margaret, no philosophy, please. ' Out 
 of the mouths of babes and sucklings' is all very 
 well ; but from a chit like you I can't endure it. 
 Come, Comte, I must get back to my old Gaffer
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 257 
 
 Harden ; it is ten o'clock and after. Good-night 
 all. Go to bed early, Madge ; you are losing 
 your color from keeping too late hours. Philip, 
 you never come to the house now ; I want to 
 see you soon. General, is it too late for you to 
 walk part of the way with us ? I want to consult 
 you about my " she hesitated a moment 
 " about my my new picture-gallery. You know 
 I think of building an extension this summer." 
 
 With a smile as innocent as that of a child 
 she looked into the old General's face and car 
 ried him off triumphantly, a willing slave to her 
 charms. The wily enchantress discoursed for 
 an hour with that innocent man about her 
 imaginary picture-gallery, to the astonishment 
 of good Darius Harden, who was too diplomatic 
 a soul and too well-disciplined a husband to 
 betray any surprise at the startling plans which 
 his wife was now disclosing for the first time. 
 
 Meanwhile Philip was left alone with Margaret 
 after the long, hard day's work, which jarred upon 
 his artistic, sensitive nature more than even she, 
 who knew him so well, could guess. His pas 
 sionate love of beautiful things in nature and in 
 art made each ugly and diseased being that came 
 under his care a positive pain to him ; yet he had 
 endured this for her sake, that he might be more 
 worthy of her. Had he not earned the right to 
 speak, to tell her what he had done for her, to 
 17
 
 258 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 sue for that love which was the only reward life 
 held for him ? He was very weary ; he longed 
 to speak ; and yet one thought kept him silent, 
 his promise to Feuardent. He had sworn to tell 
 her that very night the story of which she knew 
 but the outside facts. 
 
 She seemed conscious of the struggle in his 
 breast, for she suddenly turned to him and bade 
 him tell her what was troubling him. He was 
 still silent. 
 
 "I am sure it is something about Mr. Feuar 
 dent that you have to say." 
 
 " Yes, my child, you are right ; you are always 
 right. I have something to tell you from Robert, 
 a message, a story, I hardly know which." 
 
 " Let it be a story, you tell them so well." 
 
 And so he spoke, and told the story as he was 
 gifted to do, with a concentrated earnestness 
 and a repressed eloquence that held his listener 
 breathless and expectant. It is a great gift that 
 of the raconteur. In Italy it is considered a 
 talent of the highest order, and is cultivated as 
 carefully as a tenor voice. In that favored land 
 the speech of the improvvisatore flows in rhymed 
 numbers ; but the greatest master of that rare art 
 never had a more entranced listener than had 
 Philip Rondelet as he told the story of Therese, 
 of Fernand, and of Robert to Margaret. We 
 all enjoy doing the things that we do well ;
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 259 
 
 and forgetting everything but his auditor and 
 his theme, Philip soon broke from the measured 
 sentences with which he began the recital, and 
 with an almost Oriental grace and richness of 
 speech painted for Margaret the various scenes 
 of the story in which he had participated or 
 which had been described to him. 
 
 Fascinated by the narrative, magnetized by 
 the speaker, Margaret sat looking into Philip's 
 face with a rapt attention which might well have 
 deceived a more shrewd observer than himself. 
 Was it wonderful the lover believed that the 
 look she gave him as she laid in his hand the 
 breast-knot she had worn that night was love- 
 laden ? 
 
 He caught her hand in his own and raised it, 
 trembling all the while at his own temerity, to 
 his lips ; and Margaret did not frown, but gently 
 drew it from him as a step sounded upon the 
 walk and her father joined them. 
 
 The General had come just five minutes too 
 soon ! There was nothing to do but to take 
 leave, and with a light step Philip left the house 
 and made his way to Jackson Square. His tiny 
 apartment, " on the first story down the chim 
 ney," as he was wont to call it, was cool and 
 sweet with the spray of the little fountain. The 
 windows were wide open, and a single flower 
 spread its scented heart to the beauty of the
 
 260 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 night. But once in the year this aged cactus 
 blossomed, and on this white night, the hap 
 piest in all Philip Rondelet's life, the cereus had 
 bloomed for him. The delicate waxen petals 
 slowly unfolded, revealing the deep heart which 
 seemed to glow with a hidden flame. The per 
 fume, unlike that of any other flower, floated 
 about him like an incense. As he kept his vigil 
 with the wondrous blossom, it seemed to him 
 that the eyes of his soul were looking into a 
 heart as fresh and fragrant. He believed that 
 he could see the light of love burning for him, 
 faint and tender as the mystic radiance of the 
 cereus. Margaret loved him. For the first time 
 he believed that his heart's desire was granted. 
 She loved him. Why else should she have 
 smiled so happily in his face ? Why had she 
 talked with him in the old, unreserved way that 
 had been hers ere the cloud had come between 
 them ? Why had she, with that inimitable gest 
 ure of grace and shyness, taken the flowers from 
 her breast and laid them in his hand, letting her 
 own linger while he kissed the little palm till it 
 was pink with blushes ? Margaret loved him ; 
 and happy in that belief after the long doubt and 
 fear, dismissed now forever, he fell asleep. 
 
 With the morrow came his daily tasks and the 
 remembrance of that other promise he had made 
 Robert, to find Therese and save her from the
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 261 
 
 creatures of the law. Where should he begin 
 the search ? It seemed an almost hopeless one. 
 Her mother and uncle denied all knowledge of 
 her. She had vanished, they said, leaving no 
 trace behind. He could not communicate with 
 the police authorities without strengthening the 
 suspicions already entertained by them. Hero 
 was his only confidant, and all that day the two 
 men searched for the desperate woman, each in 
 his own way. Philip failed to find Margaret at 
 the studio when he called. He was grieved at 
 this, but he felt confident that he should see her 
 that evening. He would then tell her of the 
 wealth of love in his heart, hers, all hers, 
 more than ever woman was blessed with before. 
 And Margaret, unconscious of the hope and 
 joy which she had given him, thought only of the 
 story he had told her the night before and of the 
 man who was its hero. For the first time in 
 many days she went cheerfully about her house 
 hold tasks, ordered her father's dinner, and su 
 perintended the house-work ; and when Philip 
 came, trembling with hope and love, to see her, 
 she was in the kitchen making broth for Robert 
 Feuardent. The sympathetic servant-maid who 
 opened the door had compassion on his eager 
 face, and instead of giving the curt " too much 
 engaged to receive any one," told him smilingly 
 that " Miss Ruysdale had gone out early with
 
 262 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 the General." Margaret was full of kindliness 
 that day, and the little children who came beg 
 ging at her gate went away full-handed and re 
 joicing. She had a smile, one of her rare smiles, 
 for every creature who crossed her path on that 
 sunny spring morning; and when she at last 
 went to her work in the studio, her voice vied 
 with that of the bird in the magnolia-tree in 
 melody and joy. 
 
 Just before sundown Margaret left the house, 
 carrying on her arm a basket containing the can 
 of broth she had watched that day with an inter 
 est which she had never before felt regarding any 
 culinary operation. She took the road the bear 
 ers had chosen on the morning when Robert 
 Feuardent had been carried to the Hotel-Dieu, 
 the quickest and quietest route, one which Philip 
 Rondelet had traversed many a day on his way 
 to and from the work he had undertaken for love 
 of her. She walked bravely and swiftly for the 
 first half of the way ; but as she drew near the 
 hospital her pace slackened and her heart beat 
 fast with excitement. The building was now in 
 sight. With a heightened color and a perfectly 
 oblivious expression she passed the gate and 
 turned down the next street, as if she had no 
 more interest in the place than the first-comer. 
 Near at hand there was a small square, with a 
 few shade-trees and some wooden benches. Here
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 263 
 
 she sat down, and with the point of her parasol 
 drew an intricate design in the soft earth of the 
 path. When it was carefully finished she quickly 
 obliterated it with her foot, and then repeated the 
 drawing, enlarging the outline a little. It was 
 still unsatisfactory, and this time the lines seemed 
 shorter and less vigorous. A yellow dog of an 
 ungenteel appearance now joined her, and after 
 vainly trying to decipher the hieroglyphics Mar 
 garet was tracing, turned his attention to the 
 basket, from which proceeded a savory odor. 
 Recalled to herself by this impertinent and un 
 warrantable curiosity on the part of the yellow 
 dog, Miss Ruysdale suddenly rose, and with a 
 firm step and severe expression of countenance 
 again approached the Hotel-Dieu. This time she 
 got as far as the gate, and with a trembling hand 
 rang the bell. The door of the hall flew open 
 and the guardian of the gate descended, alone 
 this time, the visitor being of the female sex. 
 
 " I want to see Sister Gabrielle," Margaret 
 said, in a voice that would not be quite firm ; 
 " I have brought something for one of the 
 patients." 
 
 " Enter, my child," said the sister kindly, " and 
 I will find Sister Gabrielle for you." 
 
 In the long, severe waiting-room, with its reli 
 gious engravings and library of the lives of the 
 saints, Margaret Ruysdale, sculptor, the com-
 
 264 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 posed and serious young woman, sat trembling 
 and blushing as any other foolish girl might have 
 done. When the grave gray-eyed Sister Gabri- 
 elle swept into her presence, stately and impos 
 ing in her serge frock as she had been in her 
 state robes when she presided over one of the 
 great houses of the Faubourg St. Germain, Mar 
 garet's courage gave out entirely, and she faltered : 
 " I came to ask about Dr. Rondelet has often 
 spoken to me of you. I I am Miss Ruysdale. 
 I brought some broth, and I want to know how 
 Mr. Feuardent is." 
 
 " Mademoiselle Risdelle ? Ah, yes." The dig 
 nity had melted from Sister Gabrielle's face ; 
 there was only a tender kindliness now. " Ah, 
 I know you vare well, mademoiselle. I have to 
 thank you on account of many, many gracious 
 gifts at my patients," she spoke English with 
 apparent effort. " But you spik French, don't 
 it ? Enfin, c cst mieux ;" and relapsing into her 
 mother tongue, she made Margaret heartily wel 
 come to the hospital, and gave her a full and 
 satisfactory account of the patient's condition. 
 
 " He is asleep now," said the sister as Mar 
 garet rose to go. " Would you not like to look 
 into the room and to see how comfortable he is ? " 
 
 Margaret bowed. She could not speak, but 
 followed the sister down the wide cool passage 
 to an open door.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 265 
 
 " Ah, the soup ! I had forgotten it," whispered 
 Sister Gabrielle innocently. " Wait here till I 
 bring you the basket and the can." 
 
 She was gone, and Margaret was left alone on 
 the threshold of the small airy room. It was 
 now nearly dark ; but the fading light from the 
 window showed the narrow white bed. Mar 
 garet could dimly discern a face among the pil 
 lows. The regular breathing showed that the 
 patient was asleep. The girl shivered with a 
 new and acute pain, and yielding to a desire 
 whose force she had no strength to combat, she 
 stole noiselessly across the threshold, and by slow 
 degrees reached the bedside. She stood look 
 ing down at the pale handsome face lying there 
 in the gray twilight. So quietly had she moved 
 that the watcher, drowsing in the easy-chair in 
 the shadow of the door, was not aware of her pres 
 ence till with a low sigh and a sudden raising of 
 her hands to her heart Margaret bent her fair 
 proud head and touched the sleeper's forehead 
 with her lips. 
 
 Robert Feuardent had been kissed for a sec 
 ond time as he slept; but the light caress of the 
 maiden lips which laid their first kiss upon 
 his brow only soothed him to a deeper, happier 
 slumber. Like a rosy shadow, Margaret stole 
 from that dim room and flew down the corridor 
 and out into the streets, her basket, the nun
 
 266 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 all else forgotten in that blissful tumult of 
 pain and pleasure which she now knew to be 
 Love, 
 
 " For we knew thee mother of life, 
 But knew thee not mother of death ! " 
 
 When Sister Gabrielle returned with the bas 
 ket, she found her visitor fled, and instead of the 
 trembling girl she had left on the threshold, the 
 tall figure of Philip Rondelet, who had sat watch 
 ing his friend's slumber that afternoon from the 
 arm-chair in the shadow of the doorway. 
 
 " You are going, Doctor ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is doing well. There is no change 
 to be made in the treatment. I shall not be 
 back again to-night. Good-by." 
 
 The Doctor's voice sounded a little strangely, 
 the sister thought, and his pale face and deep 
 eyes wore an expression she had never seen in 
 them before. " He is overworked," she said to 
 herself. " There is more of the spirit than the 
 flesh about that man, or he could not endure 
 what he does." 
 
 The Doctor's face haunted the nun that night, 
 and she added a prayer for the peace of his soul 
 to the long list of requirements which in a per 
 fect, childlike faith she sent up to the ever- 
 gracious and accessible Mother of God.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AFTER leaving the Hotel-Dieu, Philip Ronde- 
 let repaired to the club where it was his habit 
 to dine. He took his accustomed seat, and me 
 chanically perused the evening paper which the 
 servant placed beside his plate. It is presumable 
 that he ate his dinner ; it is certain that the 
 usual number of courses were placed before him, 
 and the same quantity of wine. If the waiter 
 had been called upon to testify as to Mr. Ronde- 
 let's condition that evening, it is probable that he 
 would have remarked that the gentleman seemed 
 "absent-like," and took little note of what he 
 ate ; that he chose his cigar without noticing the 
 brand, and omitted to light it as he walked out 
 of the club. If Philip had been ordered to give 
 an account of himself between the time of his 
 leaving the hospital and the hour when he found 
 himself in his room staring at his own face in 
 the mirror, he would have found it an impossible 
 task. A perfect blank had settled upon him, 
 a numbness of heart and brain merciful, but, 
 alas ! only too brief.
 
 268 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 It had seemed to him that he was a ship 
 wrecked man alone in mid-ocean, seated on a 
 single rock o'ertopping the waves. All about 
 him were the smooth green waters lapping the 
 rock and gently laving his feet. It was very 
 hot, the sun blazed down upon him ; and yet he 
 felt no present pain, only a terror of what was 
 to come. The shriek of the sea-mew sounded 
 in his ears it was but the sweet voice of his 
 caged ringdove cooing to him and a foul 
 carrion-bird flapped its wings as it circled slowly 
 about him ; still no pain, only a growing appre 
 hension as the sea-water, grown hot and biting, 
 rose about the rock, rippling against his knees 
 with a sound as of faint diabolic laughter. 
 Higher and higher rose the flood, till hip and 
 breast and chin were covered ; and ah ! at last 
 he had found his voice. As the bitter water 
 rushed into his mouth he gave a strangling 
 cry and started to his feet, to find himself 
 alone in his apartment, his own haggard face, 
 reflected in the mirror, the only thing of all 
 that fearful vision that remained. Then came 
 " remembrance risen from hell," and he cried 
 out again ; but this time his voice was sharp 
 with sorrow only, the terror born of the moment's 
 madness was passed. 
 
 "Margaret ! Margaret!" he cried, "how could 
 you deceive me so ? False ! false ! false ! Like
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 269 
 
 all other women, born only to snare and tor 
 ture ! " 
 
 He clasped his hot hands together and wrung 
 them mercilessly ; he struck his forehead with 
 his clenched hand, moved by that strange in 
 stinct which seeks to divert a mental agony by 
 inflicting a physical pain half as intense. 
 
 But his rage was of short duration ; there 
 was more of grief than of anger in him, that 
 grief which gnaws at the heart-strings and saps 
 strength and hope, and finally life itself. He 
 loved her too well, too purely, to hold his anger. 
 Sister Gabrielle had spoken truly when she said, 
 "there is more of the spirit than of the flesh 
 about the man." The red flush faded from his 
 brow and cheek, and left him pale and cold with 
 the mortal chilliness of despair. There was no 
 hope ; Margaret loved another. Life, which had 
 looked so bright that morning, was insupporta 
 ble now. He could not bear the thought that 
 seemed to blend spirit and flesh into one cease 
 less agony, vibrating through his being with 
 every beat of the heart. He could not bear it ! 
 Reason itself would be consumed in that fierce 
 struggle ; rather let it be life ! The instant the 
 thought struck him he started to his feet, and 
 from his medicine-chest drew forth a small phial 
 containing a deadly drug. Five drops would suf 
 fice to ease the feverish pain throbbing in every
 
 2/0 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 nerve and braih-cell. With a steady hand he 
 poured the clear, colorless liquid into a medicine- 
 glass, accurately measuring the dose and replac 
 ing the stopper from force of habit. He raised 
 the glass, it already touched his lips, when he 
 paused, seemed to hesitate, and then put the 
 glass down with a low sigh. 
 
 " Therese I had forgotten my promise ; well, 
 this can wait." 
 
 He poured the drops carefully back into the 
 phial, crushed the glass beneath his heel, and 
 then, locking the door behind him, went down 
 stairs into the street. 
 
 Where to find that mad girl, that would-be 
 murderess ? he asked himself again and again. 
 His whole mind was fixed as intently upon find 
 ing Therese as it had been just now on his 
 own destruction. Until he found her he could 
 not be at rest. He had given his word to save 
 her, and with that word unredeemed he could 
 not sleep at ease in his grave. Where to find 
 her ? He had exhausted all the places where 
 there was any probability of hearing of her, he 
 was at a loss what to do next. Meanwhile, his 
 feet had brought him to the river-side ; he stood 
 leaning against a pier. Presently he laughed 
 aloud at a thought that passed through his 
 mind. 
 
 "I cannot even die till I have found and
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 2/1 
 
 saved Robert Feuardent's bastard sister ! Ye 
 gods, there 's something grotesque about that ! " 
 Where should he look for her ? That was the 
 thought that puzzled him as he stood there in 
 the shadow of the pier meditating his plan of 
 action, while the mighty river, quiet and resist 
 less in its silent strength, flowed swiftly by the 
 city lying in its cool embrace. He was quite 
 unconscious of the passage of time, and the 
 clock on the cathedral in Jackson Square rang 
 out the hours without attracting his attention. 
 It must have been somewhere about midnight 
 when he was roused from the revery into which 
 he had fallen. He was startled by something 
 rustling past him as he stood leaning against 
 the wooden pier. In an instant his senses were 
 keenly alert. It was a woman's dress that 
 had touched him ; he was sure of that yes 
 there was the woman now, sitting a few paces 
 from him on the edge of the bank. She seemed 
 very tired, for she had chosen a place where 
 some logs of wood made a support for her, and 
 she leaned back, rolling up her cloak to form a 
 cushion for her head. Philip felt a movement of 
 compassion for this homeless creature who had 
 no other resting-place than a pile of lumber on 
 the levee. He felt in his pocket : he had some 
 money with him ; it might help this wanderer, 
 and it would be pleasant to think that he had
 
 2/2 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 made one human being less wretched before he 
 was admitted to the great calm. He was about 
 to approach her, when the woman suddenly rose 
 and walked rapidly to the brink of the river. 
 She took her cloak, and drawing from her breast 
 some small articles which he could not distin 
 guish, knotted them in its folds and threw the 
 bundle into the water. In an instant it was 
 whirled away by the swift current. The woman 
 watched the senseless thing swirling in the 
 strong tide, and gave a low cry, as if the sight 
 were painful to her. 
 
 " I wish I had not done that," he heard her 
 say in an undertone, " it looks so horrible." 
 
 Philip, dimly understanding the import of 
 the scene, had drawn unobserved close behind 
 the woman. She could not make a movement 
 which he could not check. The moon, which 
 had been obscured, now broke through a mass of 
 purple cloud, its light transforming the sombre 
 river into an argent tide and making the dark 
 river-bank as bright as day. It showed to Philip 
 Rondelet the graceful outline of the figure before 
 him. She shuddered at the sight of the moon, 
 and muffling her head and face more closely in 
 the folds of the lace mantilla which she wore, 
 she made a sudden movement, throwing her 
 arms above her head, as if to leap into the river. 
 A strong arm was thrown about her, and she
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 273 
 
 was drawn struggling back from the perilous 
 edge. 
 
 " Wretched woman ! what are you doing ? " 
 
 "Drowning myself; and by what right do you 
 dare to stop me ? Cannot one die in peace in 
 this accursed city? " she cried. She had ceased 
 to struggle with him. 
 
 Philip stood between her and the river, his 
 hand upon her arm. 
 
 " One may die in peace, but one may not take 
 one's own life ; it is forbidden." 
 
 " By whom ? " 
 
 " It is against the law of God and of man." 
 
 " And what are you who dare to stop me ? " 
 
 What was he indeed, and by what right did 
 he, the would-be suicide of an hour ago, endeavor 
 to turn this poor girl from her bent ? 
 
 " Don't you know me, Therese ? " 
 
 She looked at him, and then the rage died 
 from her face. She fell upon her knees at 
 his feet and clasped his hand in both of hers, 
 crying imploringly : " It is you, then ! You are my 
 friend, my only friend in this great city, where 
 I am hunted like a dog. Let me die ! let me 
 die ! What have I to live for ? " 
 
 He could not answer her; knowing her miser 
 able story, how could he he of all men on 
 God's earth that night tell her why she must 
 live and suffer when peace was so near at hand 
 18
 
 274 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 beneath the river? For one brief moment he 
 faltered ; the thought came to him of taking this 
 broken-hearted, sinful creature by the h'and and 
 leaping with her into the flood. But the moment 
 passed, the temptation was overcome, and he 
 lifted his voice and spoke to the kneeling, weep 
 ing woman, about whose desperate beauty the 
 moonlight played fancifully. He spoke to her as 
 only those who are gifted with the living speech 
 can speak, words which can no more be written 
 down and read again than can the subtle power 
 which animates them be prisoned and made 
 material. Those who have heard the sentences 
 of one of these seers among men never forget 
 what they felt in hearing and answering them. 
 P'or it is their gift to appeal to the best and no 
 blest thoughts in men's hearts, howsoever deeply 
 these thoughts may be buried under sin and sel 
 fishness. The hidden water for which men thirst 
 lies in the depths of their own souls, and the 
 living word is the divining-rod which points 
 out its source, so oft forgotten or ignored. 
 
 And when he was at last silent, and the weep 
 ing woman had risen and laid her hand in his 
 and bade him do with her as he would, the man 
 knew that the battle had been fought and won 
 for her, and eke for him. And so it is that 
 we are sometimes preserved from falling into 
 a sin by the act of saving another from the very
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 275 
 
 snare into which we were walking, open-eyed 
 and unashamed. 
 
 The night had grown chilly ; Therese was 
 shivering in the piercing river-breeze. What 
 was he to do with her? Where could she find 
 shelter at that hour ? It was past one o'clock. 
 She must be housed until the morning, when he 
 would get her away from the city. 
 
 Sara Harden she would help him in this 
 strait, and keep the secret of the unfortunate 
 who now clung trembling to his arm. 
 
 " Come, Therese, let us walk fast ; you are 
 half numb with the damp air." 
 
 Mrs. Harden was one of those people who 
 have an inborn prejudice against daylight, pre 
 ferring the night for pleasure, for thought, and 
 for social intercourse. Philip had not reckoned 
 without his hostess when he had decided to claim 
 her hospitality for the weary creature whose foot 
 steps he supported through the deserted streets. 
 There was a light in the music-room of Darius 
 Harden's house. The blind was partly ajar, and 
 through the window Philip could distinguish a 
 slight figure reclining in a great chair near the 
 reading-table. All the rest of the house was 
 dark. At the risk of startling the little woman 
 he tapped gently on the window and said in 
 a low voice : " Mrs. Harden, it is I, Rondelet ; 
 don't be frightened."
 
 276 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 The arm-chair was suddenly upset, and a small 
 white figure with loosened hair rushed to the 
 window. 
 
 " Philip ! What brings you here at this hour ? 
 Is anything wrong ? " 
 
 " Open the window, dear friend, and let us in. 
 I have brought some one who needs shelter 
 badly." 
 
 " You are not alone, then ? " cautiously. 
 
 " No ; I have brought you a poor girl half 
 frozen, half starved." 
 
 The window flew open, and the impulsive soul 
 caught Therese by the arm and drew her from 
 the dark street into the dainty little boudoir, all 
 light and flowers and perfume. She placed the 
 girl in her own chair, not forgetting to toss out 
 of sight, before its title caught Philip's eyes, the 
 yellow-covered French novel she had been read 
 ing. He smiled as he marked the action, and 
 said : " I was almost certain of finding you up 
 still. May she stay here for a few hours ? Let 
 her lie on the sofa till morning. I shall come 
 for her before your people are stirring." 
 
 " Of course she shall stay," answered Sara 
 Harden warmly. " Poor child, she looks so ill ! 
 Are you not hungry ? Wait till I bring you 
 something to eat." 
 
 She bustled out of the room, and Philip, kneel 
 ing upon the hearth, blew the embers into a blaze.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 2// 
 
 Now that the full light fell upon her, he saw how 
 terribly Therese had changed since he had last 
 seen her. Her face had paled to the color of 
 alabaster, and her sombre eyes were sunken and 
 hollow. The warmth of the fire, the effect of 
 the food and wine of which Sara Harden urged 
 her to partake, soon brought a shade of color to 
 her cheek ; and half an hour after her entrance 
 into that cheerful room the girl's eyes had lost 
 the wild expression which made her look more 
 like a hunted animal than a human being. Philip 
 felt that he had best leave her alone with the ten 
 der-hearted lady ; and so, warning her that she 
 must be ready for him at daylight, he left the 
 house. 
 
 For an hour he had not thought of himself. 
 Now that he was alone again, his trouble set 
 tled down upon him like a heavy pall. Yet 
 his spirit did not quail under it. Strength had 
 come to him, and he had manfully shouldered 
 the burden of grief laid upon him. He reached 
 his room and sat down to think what he had best 
 do with Therese, what he could do for himself. 
 The events of the day came back to him, and he 
 reviewed them coolly and dispassionately, as if he 
 had been but an on-looker of his own grief and 
 madness. He recalled every incident, from the 
 moment when he had left the hospital to that 
 which saw him sitting in the gray morning twi-
 
 278 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 light under the leads of the old Pontalba Build 
 ing. By a curious action of the brain he remem 
 bered things which had made no impression on 
 his mind at the moment they occurred, the 
 dinner he had tried to eat at the club, the paper 
 he had feigned to read, the words of the despatch 
 which he had perused, but whose import he had 
 not till now comprehended : 
 
 " To THE PEOPLE OF NEW ORLEANS : Send us help ! 
 The fever has broken out. People are dying by hun 
 dreds. Doctors and nurses are needed. 
 
 " THEBES." 
 
 Thebes, a sister city in a neighboring State, a 
 city bound to New Orleans by the closest ties of 
 affection and sympathy, cried to her for help in 
 her hour of agony ! 
 
 Philip Rondelet started to his feet as the words 
 of the despatch flashed through his brain. His 
 resolve was taken in that moment ; and before 
 the sun had risen he had completed his prepa 
 rations for the journey that lay before him. 
 
 Therese was awaiting him. The few hours 
 which she had passed in the society of a woman 
 who had treated her with the simple and unques 
 tioning politeness which is an essential of good 
 breeding, had transformed the wild outcast of 
 the night into a quiet, dignified woman who met 
 the man who had but a few hours ago saved her
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 279 
 
 life with a half smile sadder than tears. Was 
 this the same Therese that he had heard swear 
 ing vengeance on her brother's head over her 
 dead lover's body ? Was this the fever-stricken 
 woman who had poured into his ears the story 
 of her broken life, the would-be suicide he had 
 saved from the river's fierce tide ? Had she, in 
 truth, been maddened by her grief, and was he 
 seeing for the first time the real Therese in 
 this dignified and beautiful woman ? He asked 
 himself these questions as he looked at her, little 
 guessing that in himself had lain the power which 
 had wrought the wonderful transformation. 
 
 Sara Harden was waiting for him too, very 
 pale and pretty in her soft white morning wrap 
 per. She asked him no question, though she 
 saw the carriage at the door laden with his 
 luggage. 
 
 He took her hand and said : " Dear friend, 
 good-by. Thank you for what you have done 
 for for mademoiselle ; she will never forget it, 
 I am sure. I am going to put her on the steamer 
 which sails in an hour for France, and then I am 
 going, it is right that you should know, I 
 am going to Thebes. They have sent a call for 
 doctors " 
 
 " To Thebes ! " she cried, her face turning 
 white as her dress. " Philip, do you know that 
 for you, almost a stranger to this climate, that
 
 280 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 means the fever, and the fever means death ? 
 No, no, you cannot go ; let others who have 
 nothing to live for risk their lives " 
 
 He looked at her sadly, and raised her hand 
 to his lips. 
 
 " You will miss me ? " 
 
 There was an infinite yearning in his face and 
 voice. The next moment he was gone ; and 
 Sara Harden, burying her fair head in her hands, 
 sat down and wept as the carriage bore away 
 toward the pest-stricken town the man whom 
 she had always loved as a heart's' brother. 
 
 At the station there was the usual crowd of 
 hangers-on, and but few passengers, as it was 
 still very early. A small, clean-shaven man 
 leaning against the rail outside the ticket-office 
 seemed absorbed in studying the labyrinthine 
 table of outgoing trains. A cab drove up at a 
 sharp pace, and Philip Rondelet, jumping lightly 
 to the ground, turned and said in an undertone 
 to his companion : " Are you in earnest, Therese ? 
 It is not yet too late for the steamer. For the 
 last time, will you not give up the idea of going 
 with me ? " 
 
 " No, I am determined. If you can risk your 
 life, why should I love mine too much to do the 
 same thing ? " 
 
 " It is very different. You are a woman, and 
 have no knowledge of the work you are under-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 28 1 
 
 taking. As for me, I am a physician, and it is my 
 duty to go where I am needed. Come, my child, 
 give it up. Believe me, it is better for you." 
 
 She looked at him, terrified at the thought of 
 leaving him, and shook her head. 
 
 " No, I have decided." 
 
 Rondelet saw that it was useless to attempt 
 to dissuade her, and after giving Hero orders 
 to attend to the baggage, stepped to the ticket- 
 office. 
 
 " Three tickets for Thebes." 
 
 " Return ? " 
 
 " No, it 's hardly necessary ; they might 
 never be wanted." 
 
 The man laughed at the grim jest and handed 
 the tickets to Philip. At this moment the loun 
 ger, who had to all appearance never removed his 
 eyes from the table of trains he was studying, 
 greeted Philip. 
 
 " Morning, Doctor." 
 
 " Ah, Dryer, is that you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. I am here," he said, lowering his 
 voice, " on the lookout for certain persons whom 
 the authorities prefer to keep in New Orleans." 
 
 " You are still on the force then ? " said Philip 
 indifferently. He had recognized in Dryer an 
 old acquaintance and a member of the detective 
 force. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and I beg your pardon for asking
 
 282 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 the question, but what is the name of that lady 
 in the carriage ? " 
 
 " Really, Dryer, I don't understand by what 
 right " Philip began angrily. 
 
 " I know, sir," the man said apologetically ; 
 "but you see duty is duty, and your friend comes 
 uncommon near to a description I have of a cer 
 tain woman we are after." 
 
 " There 's some mistake, I think. I have just 
 called for that lady at Darius Harden's house, 
 where she spent last night. Is it likely now that 
 a friend of mine and of Mrs. Harden can be in 
 any way connected with a matter of the kind you 
 suggest ? " 
 
 " I know, Doctor ; but the first rule of my 
 profession is that appearances are deceitful." 
 
 " I have no time to lose, Mr. Dryer. I am on 
 my way to Thebes. You saw the appeal in last 
 night's paper ? This lady, who is going as a 
 nurse, is under my care. Does that satisfy 
 you ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Ask the driver if what I have said is true." 
 
 " Your word, Doctor, is all that I require. If 
 you will assure me that the lady in the carriage 
 is not a certain Therese Caseneuve, suspected of 
 having assaulted Mr. Robert Feuardent, I shall 
 be satisfied." 
 
 Philip changed color. He would have given
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 283 
 
 his life to save the woman from this new disgrace ; 
 but his word ! 
 
 He looked the little gimlet-eyed detective 
 fairly in the eyes, and said : " I pledge you my 
 word of honor that every word I have told you 
 about that lady is true. She is going to Thebes, 
 taking her life in her hand, to help those pest- 
 stricken people ; I will hold myself responsible 
 for her. And I charge you, as you are a man, 
 not to challenge a soldier on the way to duty at 
 a post of danger, it may be of death." 
 
 He had laid his hand on the man's shoulder, 
 and was looking at him with that burning look in 
 his strange eyes which was wont to control the 
 men and women who met it. 
 
 " Well, Doctor, if you say it's all right, I must 
 take your word for it," said the detective, slowly 
 turning away. " I am afraid I 've let the wool 
 be pulled over my eyes with those same optics a 
 leetle too wide open," he added to himself. 
 
 By this time the train was ready to start ; 
 Philip, Therese, and Hero had taken their places. 
 With a sudden spasm of official remorse, Dryer 
 rushed to the window of the car where Rondelet 
 was sitting. 
 
 " Doctor, I have your word for the reappear 
 ance of that person if she is wanted ? " 
 
 " The person will be in the place I told you of; 
 but you must come yourself to get her. Good-
 
 284 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH, 
 
 by, Dryer. When you see Mr. Feuardent, tell 
 him what was said between us." 
 
 " Good-by, Dr. Rondelet ! good-by, marm ! 
 May the Lord have mercy on them both ! " he 
 added under his breath as the train with its 
 scanty complement of passengers thundered out 
 of the depot, laden with medicines, with gar 
 ments, with food and money for the relief of the 
 fever-stricken city, for which only three travellers 
 were booked.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FROM the day on which Margaret had paid 
 that clandestine visit to the hospital, Robert had 
 steadily improved. Whether there was some 
 hidden efficacy in the broth she had made for 
 him, and which was, if the truth must be told, 
 quite inferior to that prepared under the super 
 vision of Sister Gabrielle, or whether the light 
 touch on his forehead of a pair of trembling lips 
 had wrought the favorable change in his con 
 dition, must be left to the imagination of the 
 reader, if he have one ; if he have not, he will 
 not trouble himself with either hypothesis, but 
 will take it for granted that it was thanks to 
 his superb constitution that Robert Feuardent's 
 wound healed in such a short space of time. 
 
 The sisters had lavished every care on the 
 handsome young man who had proved so agree 
 able and interesting a patient. They were almost 
 more sorry for themselves than glad for him 
 when the day on which he was to be discharged 
 drew near. Nuns are very human when one 
 gets to know them well, and is no longer awed
 
 286 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 by the severity of their black robes ; and it is 
 only human for .women, young or old, to prefer 
 tending a young man full of grace and beauty, to 
 waiting on some snuffy, cross old fellow, or a fret 
 ful, nervous woman. Robert afterwards avowed 
 that had it not been for a certain image which 
 always hovered about him, he should have fallen 
 helplessly in love with the sweet, stately Sister 
 Gabrielle. They were very pleasant, those days 
 of convalescence ; his friends all came to see 
 him, even General Ruysdale, who before his ill 
 ness had treated him with a certain reserve and 
 caution. Bouton de Rose came at least once a 
 day, with all the social news of the hour, which 
 he gathered as quickly and naturally as a bee 
 gathers honey. The Count, indeed, felt as if 
 he had found a second home in the Crescent 
 City. It is a wonderfully hospitable place, New 
 Orleans, and the stranger who after a three 
 months' residence there does not feel himself 
 part and parcel of its society, linked to it by 
 sympathy and good-will, must be a curmudgeon 
 indeed. 
 
 Robert heard of Philip's departure for Thebes 
 with a divided feeling. He shuddered to think 
 of the work that his friend had undertaken, and 
 yet felt that it was not so hard to be chained 
 to the hospital when there was no rival near to 
 Margaret. He sent half of his quarter's income
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 287 
 
 to his friend for the sick at Thebes and for the 
 comfortable housing of the woman who had gone 
 to nurse them. The money was acknowledged 
 by a brief note from Philip, which reached him 
 pierced in half a dozen places and smelling vilely 
 of sulphur and carbolic acid. 
 
 Bad news travels proverbially far and fast, 
 and the priest of the forest learned of what 
 had befallen Robert before his wound was whole. 
 Early one morning he appeared at the doorway 
 of the sick-room, and after solemnly blessing 
 and embracing his young friend, he seated himself 
 at the bedside and proceeded to give him all the 
 news from his woodland home. Robert listened 
 attentively, sometimes asking a question, again 
 nodding an assent. 
 
 " My father," he said, suddenly breaking a 
 pause, " tell me, if you can, who and what a 
 certain woman by the name of Atalanta may be, 
 or may have been, if she is dead." 
 
 " She is dead, certes, if she ever lived, which 
 is questionable." 
 
 "Tell me all you know about her." 
 
 " It is in the nature of a fairy story," began 
 the father, "and in such a guise you shall have it. 
 
 "Once upon a time there lived in Arcadia a 
 beautiful maiden of the name of Atalanta. She 
 was fleet of foot and strong of arm. The bow 
 and arrow were her only distaff and spindle,
 
 288 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 her hunting-dogs her dearest companions. She 
 lived in the woods ; and you know half as well 
 as I myself the delights of such an existence. 
 She was vowed to the worship of Diana, and all 
 men were abhorrent to her. Nevertheless, she 
 had many suitors ; and to rid herself of these, 
 she promised to wed the one of all her lovers 
 who could overtake and surpass the speed of 
 her swift white feet. She was a cruel girl and 
 very fair ; and the luckless youths who lost in 
 the trial of speed were condemned to die. Many 
 a one lost his life ; and at last, though she was 
 still young and lovely with the reflected beauty 
 of the 'orbed maiden' her mistress, there came 
 no more competitors for the fair prize. Then 
 it was that she joined the band of warriors 
 destined to destroy the Calydonian boar. Her 
 arrow first pierced the thick hide of the monster, 
 and at her feet Meleager, the young ruler of 
 Calydon, laid the spoils of the slaughtered boar. 
 More than this, the brave young prince offered, 
 kneeling before her, his heart and hand and 
 kingdom. But she was fiercely wedded to her 
 maidenhood, and would not hearken to his suit ; 
 and when the youth lay dead, like many another 
 for her sake, the cold maiden kissed him, and 
 wept for his youth and beauty, cut short in 
 their green prime. But she who had overcome 
 so many was in her turn overcome. There
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 289 
 
 came to her at last a man with a cunning trick 
 which Love had taught him, who declared him 
 self ready to run the race for which her beauty 
 or his life would pay the forfeit. Atalanta 
 was weary of strife and bloodshed, and would 
 have dissuaded the new-comer from the trial ; 
 but he taunted her with cowardice, and the tall 
 flower of Arcadia rose in her might and loveli 
 ness, and drawing close the girdle about her 
 tunic, laid aside her outer garments, and tighten 
 ing her sandals about her ankles, stood ready 
 for the race. She looked her antagonist once 
 more in the face ; and as her eyes met his, she 
 grew afraid for the first time in all her life, 
 afraid not for him, as she had been but now, but 
 for herself. The bold youth laughed in her face; 
 and red with anger she gave the signal, and the 
 race began. At first the man, spurred on by 
 love and hope, kept the lead ; but when his 
 breath began to fail, he heard the swift, even 
 footsteps of the inexorable huntress gaining on 
 him. She was close behind him ; the wind blew 
 a strand of her hair across his cheek; and at 
 that moment he drew from his bosom a golden 
 apple and threw it at her feet. He looked 
 behind, and saw that she had paused to pick 
 up the wondrous fruit, strange to her country ; 
 and in the time thus consumed he gained more 
 ground than he had lost. Again she overtook 
 19
 
 290 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 him, rushing upon his track, the apple in her 
 vest, her whole body strained to its utmost 
 speed. Again the ruse stopped her windy 
 way. This time the apple looked fairer still ; 
 it grew upon a tiny branch, with bright green 
 leaves of fairest enamelling. Yet a third time 
 the youth was near to losing, and the goal 
 close at hand ; one apple more remained to 
 him, the last gift of Venus. On this glit 
 tered dew-drops of pure clear diamonds, and 
 on its stem bloomed forth a bunch of white 
 blossoms, from that day typical of bridal bliss. 
 The girl hesitated a moment, and in the next 
 the heralds proclaimed that she had lost the 
 race and that the prize was won by the young 
 stranger. 
 
 " This, as I remember it, is the old myth of 
 Arcadian Atalanta." 
 
 " What was the name of the stranger ? " 
 demanded Robert, seizing the priest by the 
 arm. 
 
 " Ah, my son ! my memory sometimes plays 
 me false ; his name has slipped from me. After 
 all, what matters it ? " 
 
 " It matters a great deal, father," cried Robert, 
 sitting up among his pillows. "Think, think ! 
 Is it not Milanion ? " 
 
 "Thou hast said it, my son. Where got'st 
 thou so much knowledge ? "
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 291 
 
 For answer, Robert only hummed the refrain 
 of an old love-song, 
 
 "Ai me ! sans elle il me faut mourir." 
 
 The hot weather had come, and the city had 
 suddenly bloomed out with white-draped wo 
 men. On the wide galleries, of an evening, one 
 saw groups of dark-eyed Creole girls looking like 
 great creamy flowers in their transparent gar 
 ments of feathery white. In the streets the 
 heavy featured negresses on their way from mar 
 ket strode along with their baskets of fruit and 
 vegetables, clad in scant white raiment, which 
 made their faces blacker than ever by contrast. 
 In the churches the worshippers at the early 
 Mass looked like so many white-winged angels 
 kneeling at their devotions, their pinions folded 
 about them. 
 
 In the gardens of the Spanish fort, the West 
 End, the Jockey Club, white vestments glanced 
 through the trees and shrubbery. At nightfall 
 on the waters of Pontchartrain the same snowy 
 figures were reflected, leaning from sloop and 
 shallop, letting white hands trail in the cool 
 water. The houses too had taken on their sum 
 mer dress. A deeper twilight reigned in the 
 high-ceiled drawing-rooms furnished in cool lin 
 ens and carpeted with straw mattings. The 
 latticed verandas were the favorite places of
 
 292 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 rendezvous ; and Mrs. Harden, whose house stood 
 on a breezy corner, was never obliged to com 
 plain at this season that her visitors went home 
 too early. Darius Harden had been known un 
 kindly to suggest that the wind-swept piazza and 
 the matchless lemon sherbet were in some meas 
 ure responsible for the difficulty with which his 
 wife's adorers tore themselves away from her 
 house on the hot summer evenings. 
 
 The ecstasy of iced drinks is only known by 
 those Northerners who, like the Ruysdales, lin 
 ger in New Orleans after the summer has fairly 
 begun. The joy of the orange-flower and the 
 pomegranate soda-water, as served by the black- 
 eyed little Mercury at the drug-store on the 
 corner of Rampart and Canal streets, oh for 
 the pen of Epicurus to write their praise in 
 fitting phrase ! 
 
 And yet that unreasonable man, General Stuart 
 Ruysdale, was impatient to be away from New 
 Orleans. Margaret thought it unnatural and 
 unkind of him, and by a hundred feminine sub 
 terfuges and deceits, which six months ago she 
 would have scorned to employ, had detained 
 her father for several weeks after the day he 
 had fixed for their departure. But there is 
 an end to the patience of all men, and the 
 end, be it said, is usually very near to the begin 
 ning. The time came when General Ruysdale
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 293 
 
 put his military foot down and ordered that all 
 should be made ready for the retreat northward. 
 
 The Atalanta was finished ; the store of slip 
 pers and shoes from the matchless shoemaker 
 of Royal Street had come home ; the races at 
 the Fair Grounds had been won and lost ; and 
 the great sham battle between the veterans 
 and the younger militiamen, and the famous 
 competitive drill, were things of the past. The 
 day of departure had been set, and the Gen 
 eral, not without some feeling of regret, was 
 taking leave of his new-made friends, first among 
 whom was his old-time adversary, Colonel La- 
 grange. The Colonel had agreed to visit the 
 Ruysdales at their New England home during 
 the summer, and the General had hesitated about 
 renewing his lease of the little house where they 
 had passed so happy a winter. The hesitation 
 was, however, only momentary. When he re 
 membered the fears that had at times beset him 
 of ever getting his daughter safely away from 
 that city of fascinating men, he said to himseli 
 with a half sigh : " No, never again ; the risk is 
 too great." For the General was nothing but a 
 poor, foolish old man after all, as we shall see; 
 and the quiet Margaret, the girl whose whole 
 life had been devoted to him and to the art that 
 was their mutual delight, had undergone a change 
 as wonderful and yet as natural as had been the
 
 294 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 sudden breaking of the winter into the splendor 
 of the Southern spring. 
 
 She was sitting in her studio late one after 
 noon, talking with Sara Harden, who had come 
 to see the bas-relief for the last time, when a 
 card was brought to Miss Ruysdale. Her visitor 
 saw the flush that spread over her face as Mar 
 garet read the name and asked that the caller 
 should be shown into the studio. 
 
 " As I was saying when I was interrupted," 
 Mrs. Harden went on, " I think your bas-relief a 
 great success, barring the figure of the Milanion, 
 which I never did like. The huntsmen, the 
 group of girls, the dogs in the leash, are most 
 natural. The Atalanta I like best, of course, be 
 cause it is your little graceful self, though why 
 you ever put yourself in such a character I can't 
 imagine. You now could never be won by such 
 a ruse, rousing your curiosity or cupidity by 
 throwing a golden apple in your path. Fancy 
 it!" 
 
 " Oh, but it means so much more than that," 
 said Margaret. " Atalanta really wanted to be 
 won, you know, only she was ashamed to say so, 
 after all, all her protestations to the contrary ; 
 and Milanion had seen that in her face." 
 
 " What liberties you take with the myths, my 
 dear! Don't judge the Arcadian Atalanta by 
 yourself, I beg of you. And yet, I don't know,
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 295 
 
 she married the winner in the race, though a 
 better and a braver man was dead for her sake. 
 She was like many another woman before and 
 since her time. One wonders a little if she ever 
 realized in after days that Meleager was a prince 
 among men, and that the gold of his true heart 
 was less mixed with dross than the gold of the 
 apple of Hesperides. She had both in her hands. 
 Did she ever dream in the still night-watches 
 that she had thrown away the gold and kept the 
 dross ? Qui salt ? Here comes your visitor, 
 Milanion himself, upon my word ! I must take 
 my own leave, as no one seems to care to take 
 leave of me." 
 
 Robert Feuardent had entered the studio, and 
 stood looking at Margaret with eyes that could 
 see nothing but her. Without noticing her 
 friend, who had slipped from the room, Margaret 
 came to meet her guest with a few stereotyped 
 words of welcome on her lips. 
 
 " Mr. Feuardent, I am so glad to see you so 
 well so much better. It 's a long time since 
 we have met, is it not ? " 
 
 " A lifetime, Atalanta." 
 
 She was trembling all over, and her hands 
 had grown suddenly perfectly cold. Robert, in 
 whose mind there could not fail to be a memory 
 of that morning when he had last entered the 
 studio, full of health and hope and love, only to
 
 296 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 leave it wounded and senseless, was very grave. 
 He was still weak, and the emotion which the 
 sight of Margaret had roused, together with these 
 painful recollections, gave him a sudden moment 
 of faintness. She placed a chair for him, and by 
 the time she had in a measure controlled the 
 nervous trembling which had come over her, he 
 was himself again. 
 
 "The Count tells me you are thinking of 
 leaving soon," he began. 
 
 " Yes," said Margaret, looking bravely in his 
 face, with a laugh which had little of merriment, 
 " yes, we must go next week, papa says. You 
 know it is late in the season for us Northerners 
 to linger here, and the fever is at Thebes, 
 that makes him anxious, naturally." 
 
 " Of course," said Robert severely, " quite 
 right, I am sure ; it makes me anxious myself." 
 Then, noticing Margaret's look of astonishment, 
 he added : " Not for myself, of course ; I have had 
 the fever already, as you know, but for you." 
 
 " It 's very good of you." 
 
 " What is good of me ? " 
 
 " To be anxious about me." 
 
 " How can I help it ? " this with a look which 
 was a love-poem in itself. 
 
 " You must take your last look at Atalanta to 
 day," said Margaret, ignoring the poem, " she 
 is to be boxed to-morrow. She is going to be
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 297 
 
 exhibited, poor thing, in New York. Are n't you 
 sorry for her and for me ? We shall both be so 
 dreadfully criticised. You cannot conceive the 
 sort of terror that grows upon me when I have 
 nearly finished a piece of work, the fear of ridi 
 cule. I don't mind being told that I don't know 
 anything about art, that my modelling is bad, 
 my conception weak, my execution anything but 
 what it should be ; but I do mind being laughed 
 at, for my work, faulty as it is, has been done in 
 very serious earnest, and it seems but fair that 
 if it is to be condemned, it should be in a spirit 
 of serious criticism, not of flippant satire." 
 
 " I should like to know who would dare to treat 
 you or your work with disrespect. I I would 
 kill any man who dared to speak of it as you say." 
 He looked fierce enough to carry out his threat. 
 
 Margaret laughed, saying : " And the women, 
 what would you do to them ? They are unap 
 proachable, and under the invulnerable armor of 
 their sex they discharge the poisoned arrows of 
 envy, slander, and all uncharitableness ; and we, 
 the workers, must endure it without a 'murmur, 
 for they, being but talkers, can always have the 
 last word." 
 
 " Are they all like this ? " 
 
 " No, good friend ; thank Heaven, there are 
 very few such traitors in the army of working 
 women."
 
 298 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 Robert moved uneasily in his chair, and said 
 after a pause : " Do not talk to me about your 
 work ; it makes you so unlike the you I know 
 best." 
 "And that is ?" 
 
 " That is the girl who danced with me at the 
 fete, who gathered roses with me an hour after 
 sunrise, the sister of charity who brought me 
 soup while I was ill, and whose image has 
 haunted my sick-room ever since she " 
 
 Margaret interrupted him. 
 
 " It is the same I always " She 5tooped 
 and straightened the rug upon the floor, and then 
 took a seat a little farther away from the man 
 whose eyes glowed with so strange a light. It 
 made her tremble again, and the trouble in her 
 seemed all centred in her heart, for she laid her 
 hand upon her breast as if to stay its beating ; 
 and Robert saw the action, and knew what it 
 meant far better than she could have told him, 
 for love was to him not so new a thing as to this 
 Northern maiden, in whose veins flowed the pure 
 cool blood -of the Puritans. Because it is not an 
 easy thing for these women to let Love into their 
 hearts, so is it impossible for them ever to drive 
 him out ; for the overthrow must be absolute and 
 irrevocable before the sweet surrender is made. 
 Something of this the man felt ; and with the 
 feeling came an awe of the girl whose white
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 299 
 
 impassioned face was turned to him, and a re 
 solve that the love he read so plainly in her 
 eyes should be held as the most sacred thing 
 in his life, which should henceforth be kept 
 clean and pure, a fitting temple to enshrine se 
 white a flame. 
 
 " And you are going to leave me, Atalanta ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " May I come after you ? " she smiled, 
 " and bring you back with me," she blushed 
 deliciously and cast down her eyes, " to stay 
 forever ? " 
 
 He was close beside her now, and stood with 
 outstretched arms looking at her with an expres 
 sion which sent the terrified blood back in a flood 
 upon her heart. 
 
 " Come!" he murmured. 
 
 She sprang to her feet with an instinct of 
 flight, and glided from him toward the door. 
 .The sudden motion jarred the room, and from 
 the wall an orange dropped from the branch she 
 had hung there weeks ago. It rolled towards 
 Margaret and under her fleet feet, which tripped 
 on the treacherous fruit. She stumbled, and 
 would have fallen, but that a pair of arms was 
 ready to uphold her. A little cry, half of fright, 
 half of love, escaped her pale lips as she felt 
 herself folded to a heart beating quite as fast 
 as her own. She struggled to be free for one
 
 300 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH, 
 
 moment longer; and then, remembering that 
 he was still weak from his wound, she gave 
 a low sigh and lay still for one glad moment 
 in his arms. 
 
 And so the golden apple was responsible for 
 all the trouble and all the joy that followed, as 
 it was in the days of Eve and in the time of 
 Arcadian Atalanta. 
 
 It did not prove a difficult matter for Robert 
 to tell Margaret that he loved her, and to con 
 vince her that he must have her for his own. 
 The arguments he used need not be set down 
 here ; they were somewhat indistinctly uttered, 
 and yet were thoroughly understood. They were 
 not new arguments, but have been frequently 
 employed before, usually with success, as every 
 reader ought to know. For life is but a poor 
 treadmill existence after all, a sort of dry-crust 
 we all have to eat, and love may be prosaically 
 compared to a kind of golden butter which 
 transforms the hard morsel to the ambrosia of 
 the Gods. It is a cheap luxury, the poorest may 
 have it; and yet how many soi-disant world 
 philosophers to-day go fasting, on the plea that 
 it is too costly a thing to feed upon ! 
 
 Robert found it a very easy thing to convince 
 Margaret, as we have said, but it was a very 
 different matter when it came to convincing 
 Margaret's father, of the soundness of his argu-
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 3OI 
 
 ments. They were not indeed even listened 
 to ; for when poor Robert had got as far in his 
 story as to tell the General that he loved his 
 only daughter and wanted her for his wife, he 
 was spared the trouble of going any farther. 
 Stuart Ruysdale thanked him for the honor he 
 had done him in asking his daughter's hand, 
 but absolutely declined to bestow it upon him. 
 Robert, who an hour before had assured Mar 
 garet that it would be a positive injury to his 
 health to postpone their marriage for more than 
 a month, said falteringly that he could wait any 
 length of time, a year, two, three, ay, ten 
 years, a lifetime, even, if he were only allowed 
 to hope. But even hope was denied him ; he 
 was told that her father had other views for 
 Margaret. " Was there a preferred lover ? " he 
 demanded fiercely, with an inward resolution to 
 have his life if such a one existed. No, there 
 was no other suitor ; Miss Ruysdale had never 
 been a figure in the matrimonial market. She 
 was devoted to things less trivial and unsatis 
 factory ; she was, in point of fact, too much 
 absorbed in her art to think of marriage at 
 present. 
 
 " At present ! " cried Robert aghast ; " when 
 then shall she think of it ? When she is wold ? " 
 There were some sounds in the English lan 
 guage which he never had been able to master,
 
 302 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 for he had not learned to speak it until he was 
 sixteen years of age. 
 
 The General looked annoyed at this remark. 
 
 " Miss Ruysdale is still quite young enough 
 to wish to devote the next few years of her 
 life to the art in which she has already given 
 such undoubted marks of ability. This inter 
 view is very painful to me, Mr. Feuardent ; 
 I must beg you to let it draw to a close. I 
 will repeat, in parting with you, that there is 
 nothing at all derogatory to you in my refusal 
 of your suit." 
 
 In a desperate note, full of love and grief and 
 despair, Robert communicated the result of the 
 interview to Margaret. 
 
 The General ate his dinner alone that night, 
 Margaret pleading a severe headache as her ex 
 cuse for not appearing. This put the old soldier 
 in a still less amiable frame of mind ; and when 
 he had finished his solitary meal, he lit his cigar 
 and took his way toward the club, that retreat 
 of all erring men when in disgrace at home. 
 
 Here he found Colonel Lagrange, and the 
 two worthies settled down to a game of chess ; 
 but before they had been seated a half hour 
 in the Egyptian passivity of that unnatural and 
 awful game, the General declared himself entirely 
 incapable of fixing his mind upon his men. He 
 needed a confidant ; and retiring to one of the
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 303 
 
 quiet recesses of the card-room, he told his 
 friend what had passed between himself and 
 Feuardent that afternoon. 
 
 "Do you think your daughter is interested in 
 the young man ? " the Colonel inquired. 
 
 " Interested is too strong a term. I think she 
 fancies the fellow a little, especially since his 
 accident," the father reluctantly admitted. 
 
 " If you think that she fancies him, that is 
 enough to convince me that she is in love with 
 him." 
 
 " How can she tell ? She does n't know any 
 thing about love ; she is not like other girls, 
 Colonel. And you know as well as I do the 
 worth of these first attachments, mere flashes 
 in the pan." 
 
 " I know what they are worth a great deal 
 better than you do, or than you pretend to. 
 If Miss Margaret was my daughter, I should 
 be very thankful to bestow her hand on the 
 first man who had touched her heart. It 's a 
 dangerous thing, sir, when a woman learns that 
 though love is eternal, its object may be very 
 variable. You and I know that ; but God forbid 
 that our daughters should learn the fact. De 
 pend upon it, the girl who marries the first man 
 she falls in love with makes the most faithful 
 and satisfied wife. She looks upon it as a defi 
 nite thing ; she is born once, loves and marries
 
 304 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 once, and dies once ; and that 's an end of it. 
 Now, your girl who is in love half-a-dozen times 
 before her marriage has learned so much of 
 the mutability of things, of men in especial, that 
 she is pretty safe to repeat the sensation after 
 matrimony." 
 
 " Other things being equal, I admit there is 
 some truth in what you say; but in this case 
 look at the immense disadvantages," the General 
 demurred. "Is Feuardent in a position to marry 
 my daughter ? Is he disinterestedly attached to 
 her ? Though in our part of the world I am 
 not a rich man, nor my daughter an heiress, 
 here, where the scale is so different, her fortune 
 may be an important item in the young man's 
 calculations." 
 
 "There you wrong Robert, there you wrong 
 our society, General Ruysdale. Thank God, sir ! 
 we have not yet arrived, in this community, at 
 that stage of social development decomposi 
 tion, I call it where marriages of reason are 
 made. No, sir, my young friend is able to marry 
 for love ; and if you disinherited your daughter 
 to-morrow, he would ask you again for her 
 hand." 
 
 The Colonel buttoned up his coat to the very 
 chin, as was his habit in moments of excitement, 
 and rubbed imaginary dust from the sleeve of 
 his well-brushed, threadbare coat.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 305 
 
 " I may have done the young man an injus 
 tice," said the General, endeavoring to mollify his 
 friend. " Admitting that his regard is as pure 
 as you claim it to be, the great differences of 
 education, of character, of tastes, of race, and of 
 religion, are they not incompatible with a happy 
 marriage ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; I don't care a button for those 
 bugbears. Love is too strong for any and all 
 of them combined ; he can knock 'em out in 
 the first round. It would be a good thing if 
 there were more marriages of this sort, General. 
 You New England folks go on marrying and 
 intermarrying with each till your asylums are 
 full of insane people from the eternal consan 
 guinity of your alliances. Your natures grow 
 colder and more intellectual in each generation ; 
 while here in the South we are still too much 
 under the sway of our emotions, and a little of 
 the chilly intellectuality of the Northern race 
 would be a good leaven. If I were President of 
 these United States I should legislate to the end 
 of amalgamating the too-cold Northern and the 
 over-hot Southern blood. In two generations we 
 should have the finest race of people, sir, that 
 has existed in this world since the day when 
 Adam broke his alliance with the brutes and 
 called himself man, and their master." 
 
 The Colonel had warmed up to his theme, 
 
 20
 
 306 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 and was pacing up and down the small alcove, 
 gesticulating to his audience, the one-armed 
 General. 
 
 "Very good generalities," grumbled the latter; 
 "but for all your theories, I don't propose to give 
 my daughter to the first black-eyed penniless 
 Creole who fancies her, to illustrate them." 
 
 " And why not, sir ? Ah ! I smell your money 
 bags behind all that. It hurts you to think 
 that your money may be spent, wasted even, or 
 lost in the South. Now, look at the stupidity of 
 the situation. Here is the North, so rich that 
 money is a drug in the market. You can't 
 invest it to bring you more than four per cent ; 
 and rather than risk it at that, your rich men 
 literally sit down on their money-bags, instead of 
 letting the money go out to earn more. Here is 
 the South, the undeveloped country, the richest 
 land in the world, where the earth's crust yields 
 its harvest with less pain to man than in any 
 other quarter of the globe, where the earth's 
 bowels are lined with ores and gems and pre 
 cious minerals, all this treasure is waiting to 
 enrich the whole land ; and yet it remains locked 
 in the earth, waiting till the key, capital, shall be 
 fitted to the lock. It 's positively insane ! And 
 what 's the consequence ? New York, that den 
 of robber-barons, keeps the bulk of the wealth of 
 the country as a species of giant playthings for
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 307 
 
 the half-dozen cleverest rogues to play a game 
 of skittles with, bowling down every man who 
 tries to stand up against their infernal tricks. 
 Why, the vast fortunes thus accumulated, which 
 have wrought such malign effects on the country, 
 never could have been possible if the people of the 
 North had used their brains and put their money 
 into developing the country, in some degree, to 
 an equal prosperity. It 's a devil's game they 
 play, those dozen or two so-called 'money-kings,' 
 and it is your own fault that you are tumbled 
 down, like so many tenpins, by their heavy balls. 
 The result is ruinous all the way down to your 
 lowest classes. The greatest gambling-hell the 
 world has ever seen has for its croupiers these 
 great men, whose names you mention with bated 
 breath. ' Financiers,' you call them ; swindlers 
 and gamblers they should be termed. All over 
 the land bank-presidents, trustees, men in the 
 highest offices of State and private trust, are 
 tempted to their ruin and the ruin of their 
 dependents through the accursed influence of 
 these men, who have set up the golden calf 
 in our midst and cast down the gods of our 
 forefathers."' 
 
 Though Margaret did not appear at dinner 
 that evening, her headache did not prevent her 
 from slipping out to see Sara Harden the moment 
 the General departed for his club. She found
 
 308^ ATA LA ATA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 her faithful friend cold and indifferent ; and when 
 she finally knelt beside her, and putting her 
 arms about her waist told her the whole story 
 and begged for help and sympathy, the unac 
 countable little woman said nothing, but began 
 to cry bitterly. Margaret rose to her feet silent 
 and hurt. Why did every one turn against her 
 when she so needed sympathy in her new-found 
 happiness ? She was learning that it is more 
 rare to find natures that can rejoice with us in 
 our joys than those that are willing to mourn 
 with us in our griefs. No one envies our mis 
 fortunes or disgrace ; but there are few who 
 can look with perfect equanimity on our success 
 or happiness. Blessed are they that mourn ; 
 but more blessed are they that can unfeignedly 
 rejoice in the joy of their brother. 
 
 At last Mrs. Harden dried her blue eyes ; and 
 taking Margaret in her arms, kissed her and 
 wished her all happiness. 
 
 " I had to cry a little, dear, for my heart was 
 set on a very different lover for you ; and you 
 know that he is now in that pest-stricken city, 
 working like an angel among the sick and dying. 
 You must not grudge him my few tears." 
 
 It was Margaret's turn to cry now, and they 
 took what comfort they could out of their tears, 
 as women will ; and then, when their eyes were 
 quite dry, they looked the situation in the face
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 309 
 
 and talked over their plan of action. For not 
 withstanding her loyalty to Philip, Mrs. Harden 
 was too thoroughly feminine a woman not to 
 take delight in helping a love affair along over 
 the proverbially rough course. 
 
 " I will see the General myself," Mrs. Harden 
 finally said, after they had discussed the very 
 simple matter at the greatest length, looking at 
 it from all possible, probable, and impossible 
 points of view. " Of course he will give in ; 
 there 's nothing else for him to do. You won't 
 give Robert up ? No ? Quite sure ? " 
 
 " Never ! " said Margaret solemnly. 
 
 "And the young man himself, will he be 
 equally steadfast ? " 
 
 " Can you doubt him ?" 
 
 " Of course I can, my dear, because I always 
 doubt everybody, lovers in especial ; but the 
 question is, can you doubt him ? " 
 
 " I could more easily doubt myself." 
 
 "You are deliciously in love, Margaret, and 
 I will try to forgive you for loving the wrong 
 man ; though how you could well, no matter! 
 Don't be angry ; leave your papa to Darius and 
 me, we will fix him between us." 
 
 " Mr. Harden why, why Mr. Harden, what 
 good can he do ? " 
 
 " A man 's a great support in times like these, 
 Margaret, they really are. They put the other
 
 310 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 man at such a disadvantage, if you understand 
 what I mean by that sort of thing. Your father, 
 now, could appeal to my sympathies as well as I 
 to his ; but Darius, I put it to you, who would 
 think of appealing to Darius's sympathy ? He 
 won't have any; he's Robert's friend; he can 
 bear testimony to his character, his family, his 
 property, and his political sentiments. Oh, Da 
 rius will have to come too ; I could n't think of 
 facing the implacable father without my old 
 Gaffer Harden to back me." 
 
 " Well, dear, you know best ; but " 
 
 " Of course I do ; but me no buts. A hus 
 band is so convenient in a row ; I call Dari my 
 fighting editor. But to return to the General. 
 Under the combined attack of fatherly affection 
 and remorse, of Sara and Darius Harden, of 
 Robert and Margaret, with the support of Colo 
 nel Lagrange thrown in if necessary, the rout 
 will be complete." 
 
 And it was. 
 
 The enemy held out valiantly for a week, and 
 then, after an heroic resistance, was routed, 
 horse, foot, and dragoon breaking under the final 
 charge of the foe, which was the more deadly be 
 cause of the heavy shower of tears under which 
 it was made. Peace was restored, and the arti 
 cles signed on terms which were creditable to 
 both parties. The General was to retire to his
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 311 
 
 Northern home, taking his prisoner, Margaret, 
 with him, while her heart was left as hostage in 
 the hands of that disturber of the peace, Robert 
 Feuardent, who gave bonds to appear when the 
 summer was over and restore the hostage, only 
 again to take possession of it and the prisoner 
 in the early autumn days, when the land should 
 be glad with the fulness of the harvest. 
 
 And so with heavy hearts Margaret and Rob 
 ert parted, each full of gloomy forebodings that 
 they should not live to see that golden day when 
 the virgin Atalanta should turn from the wor 
 ship of Diana to burn incense before the altar 
 of Hymen. 
 
 Ah, me ! for those fond, foolish, loving days 
 whose pain seems unendurable, those partings 
 and meetings which tear the heart-strings, how 
 quickly do they pass ! How tenderly are they 
 remembered in the after-time, when love has 
 cooled, even if it has strengthened into steadfast 
 affection. We agonize over the love-tortures, 
 and cry out that they make life too hard for us 
 to bear ; and yet when they are past and gone, 
 we count each moment of that time as a grain 
 of gold in the sombre sands of life, and would 
 gladly give a year of the prosaic contentment 
 of our prosperous lives for one moment of that 
 pain which is the most pleasureful thing that life 
 has held for us !
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THERESE CASENEUVE, Philip Rondelet, and 
 the faithful Hero were made welcome at Thebes. 
 The greeting that awaited them was a solemn 
 one. People looked them in the face search- 
 ingly ; and reading there the look that they 
 sought, took them by the hand and bade them 
 welcome to the city of death. The band of 
 workers, the doctors, the nurses, and the men 
 of God already come together from all parts of 
 the Union, North, South, East, and West, 
 recognized in the new-comers three strong help 
 ers fit to undertake the labor of which only the 
 noblest men and women are capable. The out 
 going trains, that stopped a mile from the city, 
 daily bore away people fleeing from the pes 
 tilence, deserting friend and loved one in a 
 mad panic of fear which overcame every better 
 feeling ; but the incoming trains brought men 
 and women, even youths and girls, who came to 
 labor amidst strangers, a labor whose only 
 earthly reward might be death in its most terri 
 ble form, a hasty and unsanctified burial, and
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 313 
 
 a namaless grave in the potter's field. For the 
 pestilence that walketh by night had smitten 
 the fair town of Thebes as pray God city may 
 never again be visited in this land of ours ! 
 
 What sin was there in the town that it should 
 be thus chastened with a punishment more awful 
 than that which befell Sodom and Gomorrah ? 
 They were wiped out all in one hour, and after 
 a brief agony their sinners slept at peace ; in 
 Thebes each hour saw a new agony, each day a 
 fresh list of victims. 
 
 What law had its citizens broken that they 
 were so afflicted ? Alas ! the law which com 
 mands that cleanliness should be held as only 
 second to godliness, that commandment which, 
 if it be set at nought, brings so terrible a punish 
 ment to the offenders. 
 
 Philip, wishing to keep Therese as much under 
 his care as possible, suggested that some one of 
 the many houses which the richer folk had de 
 serted should be turned into a hospital where 
 the homeless sick, those creatures who were 
 daily stricken down in the streets and public 
 places, might be brought and tended. No sooner 
 had he made this plan known than he was in 
 formed that one of the largest houses in the 
 town was at his disposal. Its owner herself 
 sought him out, and begged that without delay 
 he would take possession of her dwelling. She
 
 3 14 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 was a striking-looking woman, about forty years 
 of age, showing traces of a remarkable beauty. 
 Her soft brown eyes and gentle, magnetic voice 
 attracted him strongly, as with simple generosity 
 she gave him possession of her house and all 
 that it contained, only reserving to herself the 
 right to share in nursing the patients. That 
 very day saw her richly furnished dwelling trans 
 formed into a pest-house, where the nameless 
 sufferers of the streets were tended with the 
 greatest care and devotion. Madame Anna 
 for so this woman was called never spared 
 herself, and day and night was found at her 
 post, faithful and self-contained. The dreadful 
 sights, the heart-rending scenes, before which 
 Therese often grew sick and faint, and which 
 it took all Philip's strength to endure, Madame 
 Anna bore With a composure and fortitude which 
 gave her fellow-workers fresh courage. Madame 
 Anna, a woman of the town, whose sumptuous 
 house had seen such unholy orgies, now passed 
 from room to room, ministering to the wretched 
 sufferers, the off-scouring of the streets, the very 
 lowest of whom in other days had claimed the 
 right to scoff at her. To this strangely assorted 
 band of workers came one more, Virginia Allen, 
 a girl from a New England town, as fair and 
 good and young as Margaret herself. She had 
 come to join the noble army of martyrs ; and
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 315 
 
 Philip; finding that she was wretchedly housed, 
 prayed Madame Anna's hospitality for her for 
 Margaret's sake, to whom he fancied she bore a 
 far-away resemblance. 
 
 Money and clothing, stores and medicine, were 
 sent them daily from Northern cities, in which 
 the pitiful cry for help was generously answered ; 
 and the people flocked to the house of the 
 Magdalen to receive the goods and rations daily 
 dealt out to them. 
 
 Famine was upon the city, though the fields 
 were white with cotton, and the city full of labor 
 ers, able-bodied, but incapacitated by terror for 
 work ; and the burden of these hungry idlers 
 seemed sometimes too heavy to be endured. 
 
 Summer was over all the land ; the trees had 
 leafed, and the flowers bloomed with a beauty 
 and fulness which, by contrast to the squalor 
 and horror of the city, seemed unprecedented. 
 The weather was halcyon, the skies cloudless, 
 the air save where it blew over some tainted 
 quarter sweet and languorous. At mid-day the 
 sun burned fiercely in the heavens ; but at night 
 the moonlight turned the city into a fairy-land. 
 Snatching a brief hour of repose after a day of 
 ceaseless toil, Philip sat upon the gallery looking 
 out upon the garden, where all was quiet. The 
 street was deserted ; not a sound broke the 
 magic stillness. The full moon blazed in mid-
 
 316 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 heaven with a radiance such as he had never 
 before seen. Peace seemed spread abroad ; the 
 shrieks of delirium, the labored breath and 
 strangling groan of the death agony were stilled. 
 For a moment all the terrible reality by which 
 he was surrounded was forgotten, and Philip sat 
 dreaming of the cool sea-girt city from which he 
 had that day received tidings of Margaret. She 
 had sent a contribution of money and of cloth 
 ing. He had recognized among the many useful 
 articles of dress a pair of tiny satin shoes, half- 
 worn, and holding still the impress of her foot. 
 They were modish little shoes, high-instepped 
 and silver-buckled, inappropriate enough for 
 the class of women for whom they were sent ; 
 but they seemed to Philip Rondelet like a tal 
 isman, and he had kissed them and put them 
 in his breast, as if they had been sent him for 
 a love-token. Some one touched him on the 
 shoulder, calling him back from that blessed 
 moment of oblivion to the fearful intensity of 
 the present; it was Virginia. He started to 
 his feet, feeling as guilty as a drowsing picket 
 challenged on his post. 
 
 " What is it, ray child ? " 
 
 " The priest I watched with last night died 
 this morning ; there is not one other clergyman 
 who is not down with the fever. They have 
 come to take him. Can we not go to see him
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 buried ? It seems too terrible, after all that he 
 has done, that there should be no word said over 
 him, no friend to follow him to his grave." 
 
 Philip hesitated. His charge was with the 
 living, his time and strength were too precious 
 to waste with the dead ; but the girl went on 
 and would not be denied. 
 
 " Come, let us go, the drive will do us both 
 good ; I have not been in the air for nearly a 
 week. You must come with me, or I will call 
 Therese and we will go alone." 
 
 " Therese is asleep, and Madame Anna begged 
 that we should not wake her ; she has not been 
 in bed for many nights. I will go with you, 
 Virginia, but we must hasten ; I have still to 
 make my rounds to-night." 
 
 All barriers of caste were swept away in this 
 terrible time. Anna the Magdalen, Virginia 
 the pure, delicate Northern maiden, Therese the 
 hunted fugitive flying from the law, Rondelet 
 the fastidious aristocrat and man of the world, 
 addressed each other by their Christian names, 
 as if they had been brother and sisters to one 
 another in blood, as they were in their self- 
 abnegation and faith. 
 
 A rude cart stood waiting ; they took their 
 seats as best they might beside the rough pine 
 coffin, and with Hero and one other negro for 
 guides, made their way to the city of the dead,
 
 318 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 to which came each day more and more denizens. 
 The wide gates stood hospitably open, there 
 was little need to close them now ; and under 
 the shadow of the white cross reared high over 
 the entrance the funeral cortege moved rapidly 
 to its destination. No time in these days for 
 solemn march or death-dirge, the sick claimed 
 all the time of those that were whole ; none 
 might linger with the dead. 
 
 They reached the grave, and Virginia slipped 
 into Philip's hand the prayer-book open at the 
 burial-service. By the light of the moon, with 
 the two bearers and Virginia kneeling beside 
 him, Philip read aloud the sentences of that 
 great service of the Church of England, the 
 most glorious and immortal jewel that our lan 
 guage enshrines. When he had said the last 
 words, a sweet, trembling voice which grew 
 stronger at every measure was lifted up, and 
 Virginia sang a hymn of hope and of triumph. 
 The men had already begun the task of filling 
 the grave, but high above the dull sound of 
 the clotted earth striking upon the coffin-lid 
 rose the joyous chant which the virgin martyr 
 sang over the priest whose footsteps she was 
 soon to follow to the land beyond the grave. 
 
 In the weeks which followed, Philip Rondelet 
 saw men and women tried, as it is not often 
 given to man to be tried, in a fiery furnace of
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 319 
 
 suffering and pain. All that is best, all that is 
 worst, in humanity was brought out under the 
 crucial test. People who might in other times 
 have lived and died unconscious of the heroism 
 latent in their souls figured as martyrs in the 
 doomed community, while others who had stood 
 high in public esteem, as in their own eyes, were 
 branded with the shameful epithets of coward and 
 traitor. Husbands deserted wives, and fathers 
 children ; but the records failed to show one case 
 of a woman who betrayed the trust of husband, 
 parent, or child. And this testimony, given by 
 a man who passed through the terrible epidemic 
 at Thebes, it is gratifying for a woman here to 
 set down. In this life-and-death struggle, as in 
 that other time of battle, the blacks were faithful 
 to their trust ; and though most of the great 
 houses and much valuable property were left 
 entirely in their hands, there is not one instance 
 where the master, flying from the pestilence and 
 leaving his goods in the hands of his servant, 
 found just cause for complaint on his return. 
 
 The days went by, and the summer drew to 
 its close. In a few weeks the coming of the cold 
 weather would check the plague; but in these 
 weeks the fever raged at its very worst, as if 
 eager to grasp more and always more victims 
 before the spirit of the frost should exorcise it 
 and the broken people be at peace. The ranks
 
 320 AT A LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 of workers grew thinner and thinner, and those 
 that were spared strained their utmost strength 
 to do the work that was laid upon them. The 
 days of weeping were long past. The strong 
 grew cheerful, each one in his endeavor to keep 
 up the courage of his fellows. The weak be 
 came reckless, and it was not an unusual thing, 
 in that reign of terror, to hear harsh laughter 
 and grim bravado and jest as one passed through 
 the desolate streets. This phase was perhaps 
 the most terrible one that Philip encountered. 
 He found one day a drunken, blaspheming hus 
 band beside a dying wife, and in the next room 
 a mother singing to a writhing child, soothing 
 and petting the little one she still hoped to 
 save, while they were bearing away from her 
 the other darling she had watched and prayed 
 over in vain. 
 
 It was at this time, in the fiercest stress and 
 terror, that Virginia Allen passed on to the re 
 ward that awaited her. The two women and 
 the man beside whom she had worked so faith 
 fully nursed her with a care which would have 
 saved her, had it not been written that she 
 should die in the midst of her toil. She died, 
 this fair Northern girl, having given her life to 
 succor the sick and dying of a stranger city. 
 O South ! can there be any bitterness left in 
 your hearts against a North which has laid so
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 321 
 
 white a sacrifice before the awful demon of the 
 pestilence that laid your fairest cities desolate ? 
 One such pure life and there were many such 
 given should efface the memory of a Gettys 
 burg and a Shiloh. 
 
 A great grief fell upon those that were left 
 when the youngest and frailest of them was 
 taken. Now that they had lost her, it seemed 
 to them that Virginia had been the strongest of 
 the four ; and Madame Anna, who till then had 
 never lost her quiet cheerfulness, never smiled 
 again. Each one asked himself or herself : 
 "Which one of us next?" Philip had succeeded 
 so wonderfully with his patients, turning out 
 more convalescents than any other doctor, that 
 they had all felt perfect faith in him and in his 
 ability to save them and himself. From the out 
 side world, which stood aghast at the tales of 
 suffering and death which every day's bulletin 
 told, came help, and, what was better, sympathy. 
 It is not probable that those who penned the 
 words of praise and of sympathy that found their 
 way through mail and press and telegraph to 
 the devoted city ever realized what cordial to the 
 fainting souls these loving messages proved. 
 Robert and Margaret, Sara Harden and many 
 another loyal friend, in this way helped to keep 
 up Philip's courage and strength, on which the 
 great draughts drawn daily were beginning to
 
 322 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 tell. His fine nervous constitution was tasked to 
 its fullest capacity ; and now the reserve force 
 that last fund of human endurance was coming 
 into play. He had grown thinner and paler, and 
 his eyes looked larger and more unfathomably 
 deep than ever. Those blue-gray eyes, which 
 had burned with so tender a light of love for 
 Margaret Ruysdale, now seemed gifted with a 
 power of seeing beyond the vision of other men, 
 and tender with a love surpassing that of a lover 
 for his mistress. 
 
 Therese had grown stronger and better, in 
 spite of the hard labor which was so new to 
 her. The cankering bitterness which had eaten 
 her heart was all gone now ; in the awful reality 
 in which she lived, things before and behind 
 her shone out in their true colors. She saw and 
 repented her own sin, and was glad of the ex 
 piation in which she believed she was atoning 
 for her past. Her greatest anxiety was centred 
 in Philip, whom she watched and guarded with 
 a jealous care, sparing his strength and foresee 
 ing his every wish, in her desire to save him all 
 unnecessary fatigue. She had grown wonder 
 fully gentle and tender, the poor half-crazed 
 Therese, and Hero himself was not more humble 
 and faithful in ministering to his master than 
 was she. She had never greatly feared the fever 
 for herself ; it was for Philip that she grew more
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 323 
 
 and more anxious as the weeks went by, each 
 one taking with it a little and a little more 
 of his strength. At last she spoke to him, 
 and begged him to begone while there was 
 yet time. 
 
 They were watching beside Madame Anna, 
 who had at last been overtaken by the fever, 
 and whose vigorous physique was struggling 
 with the destroyer, when Therese suddenly laid 
 her hand on Philip's arm and entreated him to 
 leave Thebes. 
 
 " And leave you, Therese ? No, my child, we 
 are now seeing the beginning of the end ; for 
 the last three days the new cases have been 
 diminishing, and the character of the disease 
 has become less malignant. More recover than 
 die now." 
 
 " Yes, and for that reason you must go. You 
 have done your work ; the worst is past. I will 
 stay with Madame Anna till she is well, or till 
 all is over. There is no danger for me ; it rarely 
 attacks my people." 
 
 Since she had learned that her blood was 
 tainted by that inferior strain, which until it is 
 removed to the thirty-second degree, according 
 to the old code noir, outbalances the purer blood 
 and makes the individual a person of color, The 
 rese had always spoken of herself as belonging 
 to the African race. And yet Therese Case-
 
 324 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 neuve, half sister of Robert Feuardent, bore no 
 vestige of African descent, unless it was in the 
 deep notes of her voice, pathetic and passionate 
 in turn, or in her almost savage health and its 
 attendant perfection of form. That one burning 
 drop of negro blood had blighted her life ; the 
 knowledge of it had transformed the man who 
 was her plighted husband into her destroyer. It 
 had brought shame and sin and death to him ; 
 it had changed her from a happy, hopeful girl 
 into a desperate and sinful woman, conscience- 
 stricken and wellnigh a fratricide. 
 
 Madame Anna grew worse. It was evident 
 that the fever had overcome her stout resistance. 
 She herself saw that hope was past ; and desir 
 ing to set her affairs in order, she summoned to 
 her bedside her man of business, a mulatto who 
 had been faithful to her even as were her new- 
 made friends. 
 
 When she had talked long and earnestly with 
 him she slept for a space, and then begged that 
 she might be left alone with Therese. The inter 
 view was a long one, and lasted far into the night. 
 Philip never knew what was said between the 
 two erring women, the one standing at the 
 end of a career the saddest that falls to human 
 lot, tarnished by a thousand sins, weighed down 
 with the sense of the infinite woe and disgrace 
 her life had brought upon other lives ; the other
 
 ATA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 325 
 
 trembling, affrighted, perhaps on the verge of 
 such an existence, with the knowledge of evil in 
 her eyes and the shrinking from sin haply not 
 yet overcome in her hea'rt. What future was 
 there for this poor Therese, full of good and evil 
 impulses, born of a race of slaves, bred with the 
 tastes and ambitions of a refined gentlewoman, 
 in whose veins surged the evil passions to which 
 she owed her birth, in whose soul burned an 
 inextinguishable hunger for a higher life ? 
 
 When at last Philip came into Madame Anna's 
 chamber, he found the Magdalen lying peacefully 
 at rest, with Therese sleeping in the chair be 
 side her from sheer exhaustion. The girl's eyes 
 were swollen with weeping, and her slumber was 
 broken by frequent sighs. The patient's face 
 wore a calm look ; and when he touched her 
 hand, Philip knew that her sleep would know 
 no waking. 
 
 In the days that followed, Philip learned that 
 Madame Anna's house and land and all her 
 other property had been willed to Therese for 
 her sole use and pleasure. He never learned 
 of the condition on which this rich legacy was 
 given, nor of the solemn vow to observe it that 
 Therese had made, with no other witness than 
 the dying woman. The money that had been 
 so miserably earned was to be expended, not 
 in requiem masses for the dead, but in a man-
 
 326 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 ner far more likely to absolve the soul of the 
 Magdalen from its punishment, if it be true, 
 as Therese believed, that the heartfelt prayers 
 of the living can speed the dead on their journey 
 toward eternal peace.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 GOLDEN September has come and gone, and 
 brown October, her elder sister, more sober and 
 not less beautiful than the yellow month, is 
 here. The nuts are ripe, the corn is gathered, 
 the apples stand in high pyramids in the four 
 corners of the orchards, one pile russet-brown, 
 one rosy red, another deep yellow, and the fourth 
 green with the color of the famous greening, 
 the best apple in the world for cider and tart. 
 It is the merry season of the year in good New 
 England. The farmer's lads and lasses, who 
 have not stolen one day's holiday during the 
 busy time of ploughing the soil and planting the 
 seed, of tending the ripening crops and finally 
 of harvesting the fruits of the earth, now take 
 what little of rest and pleasure the year holds for 
 them. The county Agricultural Fair has drawn 
 people together from the remote hamlets and 
 scattered farms which radiate from the centre of 
 Woodbridge. The roads are alive with vehicles 
 of all degrees, from the ox-cart laden with giant 
 vegetables on its way to the Fair, to the spider
 
 328 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 of the farmer jockey, bound to try the speed of 
 the colt he has raised against that of the other 
 contestants in the race. Here come a pair of 
 rustic lovers in a trim farm-wagon newly var 
 nished for the occasion. They have a stout 
 plough-horse, whose speed the unwary youth 
 pits against that of the slender steed of a city 
 shopman who, with a horse and chaise hired for 
 the occasion, is bringing the lady of his choice 
 out to the Fair. The city horse is a nervous, 
 light-limbed creature, which at a touch of the 
 whip springs forward into a swift gait, his fleet 
 hoofs tossing the-dust into the face of the dis 
 comfited farmer, who is soon left far behind. In 
 the hour of defeat it is little comfort for him to 
 reflect that had the race-course been a field, the 
 vehicle a harrow, the results would have been 
 very different. 
 
 From her favorite seat, high up in the arms of 
 a giant apple-tree, Margaret watches the line of 
 wagons and wayfarers passing down the high 
 road that bounds the orchard. She looks with 
 careless interest at the farmers and their wives, 
 at the townspeople and the gentlefolk, as they 
 pass on their way to the Fair, her eyes always 
 reverting to a point in the road where the first 
 glimpse of a carriage returning from the station 
 may be had. At last ! There are the grays, 
 behind them her father, a fearless driver, and at
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 329 
 
 his side the man whose coming she has so long 
 anticipated. Once sure that he is there, her in 
 terest in the carriage ceases ; she buries her face 
 in her hands, and for an instant contemplates 
 mounting to a still loftier aerie at the very top 
 of the great tree. The idea is dismissed as being 
 childish : the old orchard always makes her feel 
 herself a child again ; and descending lightly from 
 the tree, she stands beneath its shadow, afraid to 
 go back to the house to meet him, and dreading 
 lest he should fail to find her in the orchard. 
 She hears a step on the path, a shadow falls 
 across the heap of red-gold pumpkins on the 
 other side of the wall, the gate swings open and 
 shuts again, and some one stands beside her. 
 She does not look up ; she dares not lift her 
 eyes to his face, lest she should find it changed. 
 
 " Won't you speak to me, Margaret ? " 
 
 She is silent. 
 
 " Look at me, at least ; I have come so far." 
 
 He is devouring her with his eyes, which find 
 her bonnier than ever; but still she cannot look 
 at him. It is as if her eyelids were weighed 
 down with the burden of the happy tears which 
 sparkle from under the long lashes. 
 
 " Atalanta, are you not glad that I have come 
 to you ? Shall I go ? " 
 
 There is a shade of reproach in his voice. 
 With an effort of will she lifts her eyes slowly
 
 330 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 till they rest on his collar, and then pause as if 
 intent on studying the jewel in his scarf. He 
 steps back a pace, as if to go ; then the eyes 
 flash upward into his, the glad color pulses to 
 her cheek and brow, for at what she sees all her 
 fear is forgotten. 
 
 Never did days fly by as did those that fol 
 lowed Robert's arrival at Woodbridge. There 
 was so much for him to see, there were so many 
 people for him to meet, that every hour was 
 filled. He had never been at the North, and 
 everything he saw had the interest of novelty. 
 The beautiful old Ruysdale house, which was new 
 when the century was young, with its treasures 
 of anc-ient carving, of ancestral silver, its family 
 portraits by Stuart and Copley, its miniatures 
 by Malbone of the dead-and-gone Ruysdales, all 
 sleeping in the graveyard of the old church 
 which the founder of the family had erected. 
 Then there were the living Ruysdales, even more 
 awesome to Feuardent's mind, the General's 
 aunt and Margaret's several dozens of cousins, 
 all of whom felt themselves privileged to mystify 
 and embarrass him as to their puzzling names 
 and identity. Margaret was immensely popular 
 in this large family circle, and not a day passed in 
 which Robert was not made to understand what a 
 lucky fellow he was, first in winning a Ruysdale 
 for his wife, and secondly in that the particular
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 331 
 
 Ruysdale he had won was the sweet maid Mar 
 garet. The Ruysdales were a powerful clan, and 
 a proud one. They had some right to be so. 
 They had furnished a governor to the Colony in 
 the old days, and ever since that time members 
 of the family had held offices of trust in the 
 State and had stood high in public esteem. All 
 this Robert was made to appreciate fully by the 
 afore-mentioned relatives, " who rubbed it in extra 
 hard," Mrs. Harden observed to her husband, 
 " because they did n't know when they should 
 catch a real live Creole fresh from Louisiana 
 again." 
 
 The Hardens had come to share in Margaret's 
 happiness, and Colonel Lagrange with Bouton 
 de Rose, who was to stand by Robert in the hour 
 of need as best man, was hourly expected. The 
 wedding-day had been set, and the mail and ex 
 press-carriers were bringing boxes and packages 
 every day, whose contents were of the most pro 
 found interest to all the female cousins, as well 
 as to Sara Harden and Margaret herself. One 
 afternoon, about a fortnight before the happy 
 day, Margaret and Robert, returning from one 
 of their long rambles through the crispy au 
 tumn woods, encountered Mrs. Harden stroll 
 ing leisurely along, leaning on the arm of a 
 young and good-looking Ruysdale of the other 
 sex.
 
 332 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " I was looking for you, young moon-doves," 
 she began, " because I want to separate you for 
 one brief half hour. I have something very par 
 ticular to say to my dear Margaret. Gentlemen, 
 we will excuse you." 
 
 Margaret knew what was coming, and looked 
 down uneasily, rolling a ribbon end between heV 
 fingers. 
 
 " Dear, I wanted to ask you if you had written 
 to Philip when it is to be ? " 
 
 " No, Sara." 
 
 " I think you ought." 
 
 " He will have heard, don't you think so ? " 
 
 " How can one tell ? he is so shut off from 
 the world at Thebes." 
 
 " And he has been there all the summer ? " 
 
 " Yes, fighting the fever like a true knight of 
 the Red Cross." 
 
 " He is a noble fellow'; would it not be better 
 for you to tell him of our marriage ? " 
 
 " No, I can't. I cant- do it ; and I don't want 
 him to read it in the papers. You must write 
 him, and ask him to come." 
 
 " O Sara ! " 
 
 " Yes, you or Robert ; and I do not think that 
 monsieur will undertake it." 
 
 This with a faint trace of satire in her voice. 
 She could never quite forgive Feuardent. Mar 
 garet looked at her reproachfully, and then said
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 333 
 
 with a sigh : " You are right ; the letter shall be 
 written to-night." 
 
 The writing of the letter was the one painful 
 hour of all that bright, brief courtship. Margaret 
 indited it alone in her room late that night, not 
 without a good deal of feeling ; but the tears were 
 cn-ied and forgotten an hour after, as she fell into 
 a happy dream, soon to be made a reality. The 
 letter was written and despatched, and in due 
 time reached its destination at Thebes. A 
 week passed, and Margaret received no answer, 
 at which she wondered a little, arid then ceased 
 to think about it in the thousand and one busy, 
 happy thoughts that invaded her mind. 
 
 The time of the Harvest Home was come, and 
 the whole community in and about Woodbridge 
 was busy in making ready for that joyous fes 
 tival. The old stone church, where this service 
 had been held for more than a hundred seasons, 
 assumed the appearance of a temple of Ceres. 
 Sheaves of yellow grain stood in the four cor 
 ners of the sanctuary, and at the chancel-rail lay 
 heaps of rich-toned vegetables, pumpkins shining 
 like new burnished gold, melons of every shape, 
 and great bunches of purple grapes and masses 
 of chrysanthemums flaunting their fringed ban 
 ners and filling the air with their clean pungent 
 perfume. A vine, heavy with clusters of white 
 grapes, which seemed ready to burst with the
 
 334 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 sunshine in their hearts, was wreathed across 
 the altar. The delicate stone pillars were out 
 lined with vivid crimson woodbine climbing from 
 base to capital, and the design of the cornice was 
 followed by a garland of ripe ears of corn twisted 
 together, with here and there a branch heavy 
 with apples or pears. At the altar foot lay'a 
 shining ploughshare, a rake, and a sickle. All 
 these decorations had been planned by Margaret, 
 who had worked with loving willingness to make 
 the temple fair and fitting for that festival, older 
 than Christianity, older than Greece itself, as old 
 as man's gratitude to his Creator for the garnered 
 harvest. Other preparations were making, and 
 from every kitchen of every farm-house in all 
 the country round came the fragrant odors of 
 pumpkin-pies, of pound-cake, of jellies and 
 sweetmeats, of doughnuts, of smoked bacon 
 and sugared hams, of baking beans and roast 
 ing meats, for the festival was to be one of good 
 cheer. 
 
 The day of the Harvest Home dawned bright 
 and clear, one of those electric autumn days 
 when every breath of the pure bracing air stimu 
 lates like a draught of sparkling wine. The sky 
 was one flawless crystal, pale blue at the hori 
 zon, and deepening to sapphire at the zenith. 
 There was not a cloud in sight, but about the 
 sun hung a light veil of mist which changed his
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 33$ 
 
 yellow radiance to a silver light It was as if 
 the moon had grown as powerful as himself, and, 
 forsaking the realm of night, had sailed boldly 
 into the day and usurped the place of its mon 
 arch. The ocean which washes the shores of 
 Woodbridge was not broken by a ripple. It 
 shone like a vast silver shield stretching out 
 to the white horizon. 
 
 After the services in the church, where Mar 
 garet's fresh sweet voice led the village choir for 
 the last time, the whole congregation poured out 
 upon the church-green, set about with fir-trees, 
 shut in from the high-road by a famous screen of 
 cypress, the despair and envy of every church 
 and every gardener in the country side. Here 
 were spread long tables laden with the good 
 things the farmers' wives had been so busy in 
 preparing. At the chief of these Margaret pre 
 sided, cutting with her own hand the first piece 
 from a gigantic game-pie, as wonderful in its 
 flavor and manufacture as the pasty of the Gol 
 den Kootoo. The governor of the State a 
 Ruysdale of the real old-fashioned sort, a florid, 
 handsome old fellow, with the courtly manners 
 of his grandfather's time stood on Margaret's 
 right hand, the clergyman on her left. In his 
 speech he made a veiled allusion to the event of 
 her marriage, which was received with great en 
 thusiasm. Barrels of fresh cider and kegs of
 
 336 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 foaming beer were tapped, and healths were 
 drunk and glasses clinked merrily. This last 
 was something of an innovation ; but Margaret 
 had begged to be allowed to contribute to the 
 feast these innocent beverages, as well as the 
 mammoth pasty, the pair of giant turkeys, and 
 the great wedding-cake, big as a small cart 
 wheel. Robert was introduced to many of the 
 farmers, who had seen Margaret grow up from 
 a wee motherless baby to the winsome young 
 woman she now was. They regarded him with a 
 less covert curiosity than her kinsfolk had shown ; 
 and Joseph Halloway, the chief of the selectmen, 
 who had given her apples when she was no higher 
 than his knee, expressed it as his opinion that 
 " Margaret Ruysdale had found a downright 
 smart, handsome-looking husband down South, 
 though he dooes look and talk more like a fur- 
 riner than an American." 
 
 It was a joyous day, long remembered at 
 Woodbridge as the merriest Harvest Home 
 there had been in many years. It was held in 
 Margaret's remembrance, all her life through, as 
 a happy day, the last of her girlhood days ; for 
 on the morrow Robert Feuardent was to claim 
 his bride, and General Ruysdale had pledged his 
 word to deliver over his prisoner to the enemy, 
 even without the return of the hostage heart.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 337 
 
 It had come at last, that hour which Robert 
 Feuardent had so ardently desired. The bells 
 of the little church, which was still brave with 
 the triumph of the Harvest, rang out merrily. 
 Bouton de Rose came to the door of his room in 
 the village inn and warned him that the time 
 had come when they should start for the church. 
 He was a pale bridegroom, almost as pale as he 
 had been that day when Margaret had seen him 
 at the Hotel-Dieu ; but he had never looked 
 handsomer in his life, his bride thought, than at 
 that moment when he turned from the altar and 
 made one involuntary step to meet her as she 
 came up the aisle, all smiles and flowers and 
 blushes, leaning on the General's arm. The 
 bells rang out merrily. The old sexton, who 
 had seen Margaret christened, pulled lustily at 
 the rope, and the air was full of the joyous 
 marriage-peal, echoing from woodland aisle to 
 village street. To Margaret's ears the chime 
 was full of melody ; to Robert it seemed like the 
 silver note of a celestial clarion summoning him 
 to the joy and triumph of his love. To the ears 
 of Sara Harden the bells had a sinister sound. 
 She heard one note, brazen and hoarse as an 
 alarm, swinging through the linked sounds, kill 
 ing the merriment and turning it to a melan 
 choly minor key. She stood before her mirror, 
 dressed out in all her finery, the prettiest 
 22
 
 338 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 woman after the bride, who on that day was 
 radiant with that fleeting beauty which comes 
 once in every woman's life in all the gay throng 
 of guests who had come to witness the wedding 
 of Margaret. She could not shut the doleful 
 sound out from her ears, though she tried 
 bravely, as with blanched face she turned away 
 from the glass that a moment before had shown 
 so rosy and smiling a reflection. 
 
 " Are you ready, my dear ? " asked her 
 husband. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How pale you look ! Are you not well ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, Gaffer ; it is nothing. Bring my 
 smelling-salts." 
 
 Her hand was on the door, when again the 
 chime rang out, and again she heard that note 
 of grief swelling now like a dirge, and sending 
 the blood tingling through her veins. She gave 
 a terrified cry, and mindless of her laces and 
 bravery, fell upon her knees. In a moment her 
 husband had her in his arms, trying to soothe 
 the unaccountable paroxysm that shook her 
 frame. It passed quickly, and she was soon 
 quietly weeping upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Go, dear; go, my good, kind husband, and 
 leave me. I cannot go to that wedding. I shall 
 never be missed ; and if I should be, say that I 
 am ill ! "
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 339 
 
 " I can't leave you, Sara ; I never saw you so 
 upset before." 
 
 " You must go, dear, dear Darius ; but come 
 back soon, for I don't know, indeed, what ails 
 me. I am afraid to be alone with my thoughts, 
 they are so strange and terrible." 
 
 She was missed at the church by many; most 
 of all by the susceptible young Ruysdale, on 
 whose heart her perfections had made a very 
 deep impression. They came in search of her 
 when the bridal party returned to the house ; 
 and yielding to their solicitation, Sara Harden 
 touched her pale cheeks with a little rouge for 
 perhaps the second time in her life and joined 
 the festivities below. Her usual vivacious spirits 
 were missing, however, which did not prevent 
 the feast from being a merry one ; for confiding 
 her depression to the favored cousin, she passed 
 the time with him in a remote corner of the con 
 servatory, where the casual observer supposed 
 them to be carrying on a desperate flirtation. 
 Here Bouton de Rose came in search of her, 
 and here he did brave and valiant battle with 
 the cousin for possession of the seat by the little 
 lady's side. But the impressionable Ruysdale 
 was immovable ; and until the moment came 
 when all gathered together to say farewell to 
 the bride, they remained in the shadow of the 
 palms.
 
 340 A TA LA NT A IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 " Good-by, good-by, my Atalanta ! " Sara whis 
 pered, as her turn came to take Margaret in her 
 arms in an affectionate embrace ; and Margaret 
 felt that the cheek laid for a moment against her 
 own was wet with tears. They were the only 
 ones that marred the smiles of that bright wed 
 ding-day, and they were forgotten five minutes 
 after they were dry. 
 
 Amidst a storm of rice and satin shoes, of 
 kisses and farewells, Robert and Margaret left 
 the old Ruysdale mansion and started on that 
 first and shortest stage of their life-journey. 
 
 The summer was past, and Thebes, the broken 
 and desolate city, was beginning to give thanks 
 for her deliverance from the pestilence. In the 
 churches thanksgivings were offered, and in the 
 decimated households men and women were re 
 joicing for the lives of the dear ones who had 
 been spared to them. At the headquarters of 
 the Aid Society, whose members had ministered 
 so nobly and generously to the sufFering com 
 munity, no medicines were given out now, no 
 orders for the grim appliances of burial, but 
 strong soup and jellies for the convalescents, 
 cordials and tonics for those who were still 
 weak. The nurses and doctors, such of them 
 as had been spared, were taking their depart 
 ure, bearing away with them the thanks and
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 341 
 
 blessing of the people unto whose cry they had 
 hearkened. Business began to be resumed, and 
 men and women met in the streets and market 
 place without that dread avoidance of contagion 
 which has separated each man from his brothers. 
 A hearty willingness to lend a hand to those 
 who had suffered most was noticeable, even in 
 those professions wherein envy and jealousy are 
 thought to be the only binding links A thought 
 ful cheerfulness was the prevailing expression of 
 men's faces ; the most frivolous among them was 
 chastened by what he had endured, the most au 
 stere softened by the sorrow of the past summer. 
 In the columns of the local press the bulletin of 
 deaths had resumed its normal dimensions, and 
 the marriage notices, which had ceased entirely, 
 began to come slowly into the office. The 
 streets lost their desolate emptiness and the 
 houses assumed their ordinary appearance. 
 
 The vengeance of the pauper had been wreaked 
 upon the rich man, and the pestilence was dead, 
 or slept, glutted with its victims. It is as sure as 
 that thunder-clap shall follow lightning-flash that 
 the neglected and squalid denizens of the vile 
 tenements shall breed in their misery and filth 
 a disease which when it has grown strong is not 
 to be stifled in the quarter whence it sprang, 
 but will walk abroad and will not be denied at 
 the doors of the grand houses where the beggar
 
 342 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 dares not ask for bread. The cities of the world 
 have suffered many such a chastening as that 
 which Thebes has endured. May they profit 
 by the warning and follow the example of the 
 people of that city, who, when their sick were 
 whole again, tarried not, but purged and cleansed 
 the town, wherein will never again be found foot 
 hold for the dreaded visitor ! 
 
 It was a time of rest and thanksgiving in all 
 the city, with one exception : the house of Ma 
 dame Anna wore the darkened look which be 
 tokens the presence of illness. The blinds were 
 drawn, the street outside was strewn with straw, 
 and the heavy knocker muffled. Day and night 
 Hero sat beside the door, that no visitor should 
 disturb the sufferer who lay in the long dining- 
 room, the largest and airiest apartment in the 
 house. The callers were not a few ; hardly a 
 quarter of an hour passed without some anxious 
 inquiry, to which Hero would answer with a 
 mournful shake of the head, 
 
 " No better." 
 
 For the time of the fever was past, and the ill 
 ness which laid Philip Rondelet low bore no trace 
 of the baneful disease he had fought so bravely. 
 Men and women had time to turn from their own 
 cares and ask news of him who had won the love 
 and gratitude of the community. 
 
 " No better."
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 343 
 
 The grievous response came slowly, with a 
 monotonous reiteration which tortured Therese 
 when it fell from the lips of physicians who 
 tended him with unfailing devotion. Their chief 
 had been stricken down ; the man who had in 
 spired them with faith and courage in the never- 
 to-be-forgotten weeks now lay ill of an insidious 
 disease whose nature they could not determine, 
 whose progress they failed to stay. 
 
 From the hour when he had been first at 
 tacked, it was soon after he had received a 
 number of letters, Therese remembered, she 
 had hardly left him. She took such rest and 
 refreshment as were necessary at the farther 
 corner of the lofty room, whose gay appoint 
 ments were strangely out of keeping with the 
 scene to which they afforded a background. 
 Certain of the pictures which she deemed 
 unfit for dying eyes she banished, and above 
 the bed she hung a crucifix, the parting gift 
 of the Abbess who had been as a mother to 
 her. It was a wonderful work of art, carven 
 of flawless ivory, mellow with the centuries 
 which had passed since the master-hand which 
 wrought it had crumbled to dust. The ebony 
 cross brought sharply into relief the emaciated 
 body and the beautiful grieved face. Philip 
 had told Therese that she possessed a treasure 
 J .n this bit of carving, and she hung it where his
 
 344 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 eyes could linger on the wondrous apotheosis 
 of pain. 
 
 One morning, perhaps ten days after he had 
 succumbed to the illness developed by the almost 
 superhuman toil of the summer, Therese, finding 
 her patient apparently much improved, left him 
 in charge of one of the physicians and went out 
 to take a brief walk. She was gone only a short 
 time, but when she returned she found Hero 
 waiting for her at the gate. 
 
 Philip had been asking for her. With a feeling 
 as if her whole life had paused for a moment, she 
 trembled and leaned against the black creature 
 for support ; then the weakness was conquered, 
 and she entered the house. At the threshold of 
 the sick room she was met by the grave face 
 of the doctor. " It is all over," he said gently. 
 "Come and see how quietly he died, without 
 a pang or a struggle." 
 
 He led her to the bedside. Therese looked at 
 him for a moment, and then, kneeling beside 
 him, whispered : 
 
 " Look ! it is the face of the dead Christ of the 
 crucifix!" 
 
 Even as the stigmata appeared of old on the 
 body of St. Francis, so was the shadow of that 
 face reflected on the dead face of Philip Ron- 
 delet, a weak and sinful man, who had given his 
 life to save his fellow-men.
 
 ATALANTA IN THE SOUTH. 345 
 
 In the great concourse of people that followed 
 all that was mortal of Philip Rondelet to the 
 grave, all distinctions of class and sect were swept 
 away, as they never fail to be in times of deep 
 feeling. Roman priest and Jewish rabbi, the 
 noisy atheistical preacher and the rigid Presby 
 terian divine, walked together behind the two 
 chief mourners, his foster-brother and servant 
 Hero, and Therese, the woman whom he had 
 saved from death. Only these two, out of all 
 the friends who had known and admired him 
 before he had joined the forsaken garrison at 
 Thebes ! The bells of the churches tolled as 
 the procession wound through the streets, their 
 harsh iron clangor, echoing from belfry to belfry, 
 resounding in the aisles of the silent city of the 
 dead, toward which the crowd was moving. It 
 may be that their deep, hoarse notes were wafted 
 even farther, and that they blended faintly with 
 the marriage-chimes with which the Woodbridge 
 woods were so merry that day. It may be that 
 to one sensitive ear the mournful echo of a dirge 
 was audible above the wedding-bells, and that 
 the tears of Hero and Therese were not the only 
 ones shed that day for Philip Rondelet. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 Messrs. Roberts Brothers Publications. 
 
 THE SAN ROSARIO RANCH, 
 
 a Wofcel. 
 BY MAUD HOWE. 
 
 i6mo. Cloth. Price $1.25. 
 
 " ' The San Rosario Ranch * belongs to a noble class of novels ; it deals with 
 the deepest feelings, the strongest emotions, and the most powerful motives in 
 human life. It is on a high plane, far above the petty strife, ambition, and jealousy 
 out of which ' society novels ' are manufactured. The book is written in a spirit 
 of large sympathy, and without one touch of censoriousness or ridicule. This 
 sympathy is far-reaching; it is given to the Indian, driven from his mission; to 
 the faithful Chinaman, killed by the fury of a white scoundrel ; to the rich and 
 coarse Irishman, living in splendor and in fear of his butler, of all of them some 
 good is told ; the best side is the one that is made prominent The book is not a 
 sermon, although its tone is so grave and its spirit so earnest ; it is a good, warm 
 love-story, with plenty of life, of incident, and of narrow escapes; and it is a 
 very attractive picture of California life and California people." Boston Daily 
 A dvertiser. 
 
 "'The San Rosario Ranch,' both as a study of character and as a portraiture 
 of life in California, has the substantial merits which deserve and command atten 
 tion. The chief merit which Miss Howe displays is a rich, fresh, and creative 
 imagination. She can paint truly, even if she colors too strongly. She has genu 
 ine dramatic power. She flashes light instantly upon character. She is able to 
 introduce motive when she chooses. She is confident of her strength, and knows 
 her ground. She commands the best English whenever she forgets herself, and 
 is true to the laws or" high art. She possesses the individual qualities which give 
 her work a distinctness and character of its own. She has struck a new vein in 
 American fiction, and her work has the vitality and scope that come from large 
 resources of power. In some respects she gives even greater promise than her 
 brilliant cousin, the author of ' A Roman Singer.' Her very faults are the faults 
 of the beginner. They need not belong to her subsequent productions." Boston 
 Sunday Herald 
 
 " She has a sound and healthy mind, a mind which refuses to entertain itself 
 with abnormal speculations, and dallying with dangerous passions. ..." San 
 Rosario Ranch' is a womanly book, and whatever talent it displays is of the kind 
 that men are not ashamed of in their mothers, their wives, and their daughters." 
 /?. H. Stoddard, in N. Y. Mail. 
 
 Our publications are for sale by all booksellers, or -will be sent postpaid 
 on receipt of advertised price. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
 
 Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
 A NEWPORT AQUARELLE. 
 
 BY MAUD HOWE. 
 
 One volume. i2mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper cover, 50 cents. 
 
 " 'A Newport Aquarelle" will be found the breeziest, the brightest, and the 
 cleverest of summer novels. . . . Charmingly true to nature and admirable as a 
 bit of highly finished art, it cannot fail of achieving a wide reading among people 
 of taste and cultivation." Boston Saturday Gazette, 
 
 " The most brilliant novelette of the season." Exchange. 
 
 " ' A Newport Aquarelle,' issued anonymously, is a brilliant sketch of Newport 
 fashionable life, with a pretty love-story interwoven adroitly therein. It has 
 crispness, pungency, and a healthful satire not too forcefully presented. Nothing 
 can be more relishsome than the quiet, complete manner in which the foibles and 
 foolishness of the gilded youth and managing mammas of that envied resort are 
 depicted, among whjch, as most timely, the fox-hunt may be mentioned. The 
 character-portraiture is excellent, whether the influential Boston visitor or the 
 fortune-hunting English adventurer, the insipid yet managing Gray Grosvenor, or 
 the honest Charles Farwell, the superficial Mrs. Fallowdeer, or the true-hearted 
 yet wayward Gladys Carleton, be the subject. Nor is there less merit in the 
 occasional glimpses we get of the author's love of nature's attractions. The 
 whole book is permeated with a frank, yet not obtrusive, reprobation of the silli 
 ness of the fashionable throngs, combined with a hearty appreciation of all that 
 is of worth in individuals and experience at that lovely watering-place. For 
 agreeable reading by a social devotee who has not lost her head, or the common- 
 sense citizen of republican preferences, it presents welcome merit." The Com 
 monwealth. 
 
 "This is a very pleasantly written love-story, with slender plot and graceful 
 style, showing great fondness for the natural, charming beauties of Newport, and 
 depicting not the best phase of its summer society. Its characters are so well 
 drawn that they might easily find their prototypes in the last season there." The 
 Churchman. 
 
 " 'A Newport Aquarelle ' is exquisitely painted," says the Chicago Tribune. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of 
 price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, 
 
 BOSTON.
 
 Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
 Z E P H. 
 
 A POSTHUMOUS STORY. 
 
 BY HELEN JACKSON (H. H.). 
 One volume. i6mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25. 
 
 " The story is complete in spite of the fact that a few chapters remained still 
 to be written when the writer succumbed to disease. Begun and mainly com 
 pleted at Los Angeles last year, the manuscript had been put by to be completed 
 when returning health should have made continuous labor possible. But health 
 never returned ; the disease steadily deepened its hold, and a few days before her 
 death, foreseeing that the end was near, Mrs. Jackson sent the manuscript to 
 her publisher, with a brief note, enclosing a short outline of the chapters which 
 remained unwritten. . . . The real lesson of the book lies in Zeph's unconquer 
 able affection for his worthless wife, and in the beautiful illustration of the divine 
 trait of forgiveness which he constantly manifested toward her. As a portraiture 
 of a character moulded and guided by this sentiment, ' Zeph ' will take its place 
 with the best of Mrs. Jackson's work ; a beautiful plea for love and charity and 
 long-suffering, patience and forgiveness, coining from one whose hand now rests 
 from this and all kindred labors." New York Christian Union. 
 
 "Although the beautiful and pathetic story of Zeph ' was never quite com 
 pleted, the dying author indicated what remained to be told in the few unwritten 
 chapters, and it comes to us, therefore, not as a curious fragment, but as an all 
 but finished work. There is something most tender and sad in the supreme artis 
 tic conscientiousness of one who could give such an illustration of fidelity and so 
 emphasize the nobility of labor from her death-bed. These things that bring 
 back the gracious spirit from whose loss the heart of the reading world is still 
 smarting, would lend pathos and interest to ' Zeph ' even if they did not exist in 
 the story itself. The creation of 'Zeph' is a fitting close to a life of splendid 
 literary activity, and it will be enjoyed by those who believe in the novel as, first 
 of all, a work of art, which can be made in proper hands a tremendous force 
 for truth and justice, and real instead of formal righteousness." New York 
 Commercial A dvertiser. 
 
 " As people grow older they see more and more clearly that love the love 
 between man and woman is the great power that shapes character, and makes 
 life a blessing, a burden, or a curse. More and more deeply did Mrs. Jackson 
 feel the omnipotence of perfect, patient love, the only power that is sure of final 
 victory, and to show this did she tell the story of Zeph. Before the story was 
 finished, Mrs. Jackson became too ill to work any more ; but the life of Zeph was 
 very near her heart ; she wanted to make it known, to impress the lesson, that 
 through knowledge of a great forgiving human love even the saddest and most 
 sinful creature may come to a faith in a great forgiving divine love, in a God as 
 good as she hns known a man to be, and so in her last hours Mrs. Jackson made 
 a brief outline of the plot for the end of the story. As her latest work, this has 
 a special and pathetic interest." Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Pub 
 lishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
 
 Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
 RAMONA: A STORY. 
 
 BY HELEN JACKSON (H. H.). 
 I2mo. Cloth. Price $1.50. 
 
 The Atlantic Monthly says of the author that she is "a Murillo 
 in literature," and that the story " is one of the most artistic 
 creations of American literature." Says a lady: "Tome it is the 
 most distinctive piece of work we have had in this country since 
 ' Uncle Tom's Cabin, 1 and its exquisite finish of style is beyond that 
 classic." "The book is truly an American novel," says the Boston 
 Advertiser. " Ramona is one of the most charming creations of 
 modern fiction," says Charles D. Warner. " The romance of the 
 story is irresistibly fascinating," says The Independent. 
 
 " The best novel written by a woman since George Eliot died, as 
 it seems to me, is Mrs. Jackson's 'Raniona.' What action is there ! 
 What motion ! How entraina-nt it is ! It carries us along as if 
 mounted on a swift horse's back, from beginning to end, and it is 
 only when we return for a second reading that we can appreciate 
 the fine handling of the characters, and especially the Spanish 
 mother, drawn with a stroke as keen and firm as that which 
 portrayed George Eliot's ' Dorothea.' " T. W. Higginson. 
 
 Unsolicited tribute of a stranger, a lady in Wisconsin : 
 
 " I beg leave to thank you with an intense heartiness for your 
 
 Siblic espousal of the cause of the Indian. In your 'Century of 
 ishonor ' you showed to the country its own disgrace. In 
 4 Ramona 'you have dealt most tenderly with the Indians as men 
 and women. You have shown that their stoicism is not indiffer 
 ence, that their squalor is not always of their own choosing. You 
 have shown the tender grandeur of their love, the endurance of 
 their constancy. While, by ' Ramona,' you have made your name 
 immortal, you have done something which is far greater. You are 
 but one: they are many. You have helped those who cannot help 
 themselves. As a novel, 'Ramona' must stand beside 'Romola,' 
 both as regards literary excellence and the portrayal of life's deepest, 
 most vital, most solemn interests. I think nothing in literature 
 since Goldsmith's ' Vicar of Wakefield ' equals your description of 
 the flight of Ramona and Alessandro. Such delicate pathos and 
 tender joy, such pure conception of life's realities, and such loftiness 
 of self-abnegating love ! How much richer and happier the world 
 is with ' Ramona ' in it ! " 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the publishers, 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
 
 Messrs. Roberts B rot tiers' Publications. 
 
 jFamcus SEomen Series, 
 
 MARGARET~ FULLER. 
 
 BY JULIA WARD HOWE. 
 
 One volume. 16mo. Cloth. Price ijJl.OO. 
 
 " A memoir of the woman who first in New England took a position of moral 
 and intellectual leadership, by the woman who wrote the Battle Hymn of the 
 Republic, is a literary event of no common or transient interest. The Famous 
 Women Series will have no worthier subject and no more illustrious biographer. 
 Nor will the reader be disappointed, for the narrative is deeply interesting and 
 full of inspiration." Woman's Journal. 
 
 " Mrs. Julia Ward Howe's biography of Margaret Fuller, in the Famous 
 Women Series of Messrs. Roberts Brothers, is a work which has been looked for 
 with curiosity. It will not disappoint expectation. She has made a brilliant and 
 an interesting book. Her study of Margaret P'uller's character is thoroughly 
 sympathetic ; her relation of her life is done in a graphic and at times a fascinating 
 manner. It is the case of one woman of strong individuality depicting the points 
 which made another one of the most marked characters of her day. It is always 
 agreeable to follow Mrs. Howe in this ; for while we see marks of her own mind 
 constantly, there is no inartistic protrusion of her personality. The book is always 
 readable, and the relation of the death-scene is thrillingly impressive." Satur 
 day Gazette, 
 
 " Mrs. Julia Ward Howe has retold the story of Margaret Fuller's life and 
 career in a very interesting manner. This remarkable woman was happy in 
 having James Freeman Clarke, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and William Henry 
 Channing, all of whom had been intimate with her and had felt the spell of her 
 extraordinary personal influence, for her biographers. It is needless to say, of 
 course, that nothing could be better than these reminiscences in their way." 
 New York World. 
 
 "The selection of Mrs. Howe as the writer of this biography was a happy 
 thought on the part of the editor of the series; for, aside from the natural appre 
 ciation she would have for Margaret Fuller, comes her knowledge of all the 
 influences that had their effect on Margaret Fuller's life. She tells the story of 
 Margaret Fuller's interesting life from all sources and from her own knowledge, 
 not hesitating to use plenty of quotations when she felt that others, or even 
 Margaret Fuller herself, had done the work better." Miss Gilder, in Philadel 
 phia Press. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of 
 the price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, 
 
 BOSTON, MASS.
 
 Messrs. Roberts Brothers 1 Publications. 
 
 MRS. HERNDON'S INCOME. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY HELEN CAMPBELL. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE WHAT-TC-DO CLUB." 
 
 One volume. i6mo. Cloth. $1.50. 
 
 " Confirmed novel-readers who have regarded fiction as created for amusement 
 and luxury alone, lay down this book with a new and serious purpose in life. The 
 social scientist reads it, and finds the solution of many a tangled problem ; the 
 philanthropist finds in it direction and counsel. A novel written with a purpose, 
 of which never for an instant does the author lose sight, it is yet absorbing in its 
 interest. It reveals the narrow motives and the intrinsic selfishness of certain 
 grades of social life ; the corruption of business methods ; the 'false, fairy gold' 
 of fashionable charities, and ' advanced ' thought. Margaret Wentworth is a 
 typical New England girl, reflective, absorbed, full of passionate and repressed 
 intensity under a quiet and apparently cold exterior. The events that group 
 themselves about her life are the natural result of such a character brought into 
 contact with real life. The book cannot be too widely read." Boston Traveller. 
 
 " If the ' What-to-doClub" was clever, this is decidedly more so. It is a pow 
 erful story, and is evidently written in some degree, we cannot quite say how great 
 a degree, from fact. The personages of the story are very well drawn, indeed, 
 ' Amanda Briggs ' is as good as anything American fiction has produced. We 
 fancy we could pencil on the margin the real names of at least half the characters. 
 It is a book for the wealthy to read that they may know something that is required 
 of them, because it does not ignore the difficulties in their way, and especially 
 does not overlook the differences which social standing puts between class and 
 class. It is a deeply interesting story considered as mere fiction, one of the best 
 which has lately appeared. We hope the authoress will go on in a path where 
 she has shown herself so capable." Tlie Churchman. 
 
 "In Mrs. Campbell's novel we have a work that is not to be judged by 
 ordinary standards. The story holds the reader's interest by its realistic pictures 
 of the local life around us, by its constant and progressive action, and by the 
 striking dramatic quality of scenes and incidents, described in a style clear, con 
 nected, and harmonious. The novel-reader who is not taken up and made to 
 share the author's enthusiasm before getting half-way through the book must 
 possess a taste satiated and depraved by indulgence in exciting and sensational 
 fiction. The earnestness of the author's presentation of essentially great purposes 
 lends intensity to her narrative. Succeeding as she does in impressing us strongly 
 with her convictions, there is nothing of dogmatism in their preaching. But the 
 suggestiveness of every chapter is backed by pictures of real life." Philadel 
 phia Item. , 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of 
 Price, by the publishers^ 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 ILINJflt 
 
 JUN 1 
 JUN 61975 
 
 Form L9-Series 4939 
 
 -,**.* /.<-
 
 | U M S j| U [[i ERN REGI NAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000035751 7 
 
 a i 
 
 a 
 
 J 
 3