A Tar-Heel Baron

_SECOND EDITION_

[Illustration: "OAKWOOD"]

A Tar-Heel Baron

_by_

Mabell Shippie Clarke Pelton

With Illustrations by

Edward Stratton Holloway

Philadelphia & LondonJ. B. Lippincott Company1903

COPYRIGHT, 1903BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

Published February, 1903

_Electrotyped and Printed by__J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U. S. A. _

TO

F. A. P. 

 "_One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake. _"

Contents

Chapter Page

 I FRIEDRICH VON RITTENHEIM 7 II THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER 22 III A WEAK MAN'S STRENGTH 38 IV "THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR'S WIFE" 47 V A STRONG MAN'S WEAKNESS 61 VI "I WARRANT THERE'S VINEGAR AND PEPPER IN'T!" 74 VII IN THE SOUTHERN APPALACHIANS 85 VIII SYDNEY RIDES AGAINST TIME 105 IX "IT NEEDED ONLY THIS!" 118 X THROUGH THE MIST 132 XI IN THE CORN 146 XII ILLUMINATION 156 XIII RECONCILIATION 171 XIV THE FOURTH OF JULY 179 XV THE GANDER-PULLING 193 XVI ON THE BRIDGE 202 XVII OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 216 XVIII BUSINESS PLANS 230 XIX HILDA 242 XX SACRIFICE 255 XXI A POKE PARTY 267 XXII VON RITTENHEIM COLLECTS HIS RENT 285 XXIII THE 'POSSUM-HUNT 299 XXIV "FOUGHT THE FIGHT" 312 XXV CARL VON STERNBURG 322 XXVI SURRENDER 335 XXVII DIXIE 348

List of Illustrations

 Page

OAKWOOD _Frontispiece_

A FENCE AT THE TOP OF A SHARP ASCENT 109

TO THE FRENCH BROAD, WHERE FLETCHER'S BRIDGE CROSSES THERIVER 204

PINK ROSES AND RED SWUNG TO AND FRO IN THE SUNSHINE ASTHEY CLIMBED THE DOCTOR'S WHITEWASHED PORCH 242

"IT IS NOT FITTING THAT A VON RITTENHEIM SHOULD LIVEIN A CABIN LIKE THAT" 269

A Tar-Heel Baron

I

Friedrich von Rittenheim

The incongruity of his manner of life was patent to all who saw. Themountaineers around him recognized it, but they attributed it to thefact of his being a foreigner. The more cultivated folk realized that aman of the world who bore every mark of good birth and breeding wasindeed out of place in the gray jeans of the North Carolina farmer, guiding the plough with his own hand. 

At first no one knew just how to take him, even to the calling of hisname. Baron Friedrich Johann Ludwig--and a half-dozen more--vonRittenheim was a good deal to compass. The farmers and the negroesfinally settled upon "Mr. Baron. "

As to "taking him, " it was he who took them, and by storm. He was aspoor as his poorest neighbors, that was evident, so they felt nojealousy, and laid aside the mistrust which is the countryman's shieldand buckler. He asked agricultural instruction from the men, wascourteously respectful to the women, and played with the children. Among those of more gentle birth there was little question of theirreception of him after once he had ridden to their doors, making thefirst visit, as in the old country. To be sure, he had appeared astridea mule, but neither his mount nor his dress could conceal a soldierlybearing that made him the envy of every man who saw him. And he had butto click his heels together and make his queer foreign bow thatdisplayed the top of his fair head, and to kiss the fingers of the"gnädige Frau, " to win the hearts of all the women. His English, initself, was no small charm, for, though he had conquered his w's andth's, his use of idiom was ever new. 

It was of the Baron that Dr. Morgan and his wife were talking as theydrove towards home at sunset of a late March day. 

"Hanged if Ah know how the fellow gets on, " said the Doctor. "It wasfall when he came here, and that farm he bought from Ben Frady hadn'tany crop on it but a mahty little corn. He did his winter ploughing andkilled the pig he took with the place, but how he's pulling through Ahdon't know. "

The Doctor spat in a practised and far-reaching manner into the redclay mud, and shook the reins over the backs of the horse and mule, which plodded on unheeding. 

"This is 'starvation time, ' too. Ah noticed yesterday our bacon wasgetting low, " returned Mrs. Morgan, with the application to self that acountry life induces. "The Baron never did tell any one about his moneyaffairs, did he, Henry?"

It would be hard to say why she asked, unless for the sake ofcontinuing the conversation, for, had there been any such bit ofgossip, it would have been the Doctor's exclusive property only so longas it took him to drive from the place where he had heard it to his ownhouse. 

"Not a word, " he replied. "Hi, Pete, what are you doing?"

Always a careless driver, the Doctor was more than ever so when thestate of the roads precluded travelling faster than a walk. He had notnoticed the mud-hole which the mule had tried to jump. In hisharnesses, twine, rope, and wire played as prominent a part as leather. In fact, most of the points of responsibility were guarded by thosematerials rather than by the original. Pete's jump and his mate'sconsequent shy proved too much for long-worn traces, and two of themsnapped. 

"Hang those things! That outside one popped just yesterday, Sophy, "said the Doctor, in a tone of grievance, as if the fact of its havingbroken yesterday ought to have rendered him free from the liability ofa similar annoyance to-day. 

"Ah reckon you-all 'll have to get a new harness some time, " returnedSophy, placidly, holding the reins which her husband transferred to heras, with no great relish, he lowered his long, lean person into the redsea of mud below. 

"Rather juicy down here. Got any string, wife?"

"Not a bit. You'll have to take a piece out of the lines, " suggestedMrs. Morgan, with resource born of long experience. 

"Ah 'low Ah will, though they're pretty short now from doing the samething befo'. "

He examined them gravely. 

"They ain't very strong, either, " he added. "Let's see, where are weat?" He looked about him for landmarks. "Oh, there's the road thatleads to the Baron's over yonder. Give me yo' handkerchief fo' thisother trace now, and we'll try and get there befo' it pops again. "

Friedrich von Rittenheim was standing on the porch in front of hiscabin, gazing at the western sky. A royal mantle of purple enwrappedthe shoulders of mighty Pisgah against a background of lucent gold. Theexpression of anxiety and of spiritless longing left the man's face ashe watched the melting glory. 

"_Wunderschön!_" he murmured. "I wonder if she, too, is seeing it, also. "

The Doctor's buggy came laboring into sight around the corner of thehouse. 

"_Ach_, here are my so good friends, who are ever welcome. I kiss yourhand, gr-racious Madam, " he cried, as he went to the side of thecarriage, and unshrinkingly saluted an old fur glove, from which thegracious madam's every finger was protruding. 

"Ah've broken mah traces, Baron. Can you-all let me have some wire orstring?"

"With delight, my dear Doctor. And will you not do me the honor toenter herein, dear lady, while the Herr Doctor and I r-repair thehar-rness?"

He helped her from the buggy with a courtesy that induced a responsivemanner in her, and she sailed ponderously into the cabin, displaying anelegance that caused her husband to chuckle and say to himself, --

"He certainly does fetch the women!"

The Baron stirred the fire, whose light fell on a scar, the mark of astudent duel, that crept out from under his hair. He left Mrs. Morganstretching her plump feet and puffy hands to enjoy the flames' warmth, while her keen eyes examined every corner of the bare room, its tidilyswept hearth, and the bunch of galax leaves on the table. 

"You-all keep pretty neat fo' a bachelor, " she said, when the two mencame in after their task was done. "Ah always tell the Doctor it'slucky he's married and has some one to look after him. You see he's nogreat shakes at keeping clean now;" she looked him over with an eyemade critical by his proximity to the German, who was a model ofsoldierly neatness; "and if he wasn't married, Ah don't know what he'dbe!"

Von Rittenheim didn't know, either, so he said, "That is one advantageof an ar-rmy tr-raining, Mrs. Mor-rgan. "

"Well, Ah don't know as Ah agree with you there, Baron, " she replied. "Henry was in the army all through the Civil War, and Ah don't thinkhis habits were a bit improved at the end of it. "

Henry grinned appreciatively, but the Baron's features betrayed onlysuch interest as incited Mrs. Morgan to further conversation. 

"Where's the rocking-chair you had when Ah was here befo'? That was BenFrady's mother's chair. Ah've seen the old woman sitting out on thepo'ch in it many a time. "

She waited for an answer, and Friedrich colored to the roots of hishair. It was on his tongue's tip to say that it was in the next room, but Mrs. Morgan was quite capable of penetrating there; and, besides, telling the truth was another result of army training. He stammeredsomething about having disposed of it, and hastened to ask if Madamwould not like a cup of coffee. 

It was a natural pride that deterred von Rittenheim from confessing tothese friends of not many months' standing that he had sold the chair, the only thing in the house worth selling, and had sold it fromnecessity. The Doctor was right in his suspicions that the Baron wasnot getting on comfortably. Ten days ago he had spent his very lastcent, and he was learning the true meaning of the word "poverty. " Thecrop of corn that he had bought with the farm had served him until nowas feed for the mule, as meal and hominy, and, by the alchemy of thealembic, as whisky. The end of the bacon from Ben Frady's pig was onthe shelf in the cupboard before which he was standing, and he had justoffered to his guest the last of the coffee with which the sale of oldMrs. Frady's chair had provided him. It was this anxiety that hadclouded his brow as he looked at the sunset. He had nothing to send tomarket, not even wood, for his bit of forest yielded only enough forhis own use. He had sold his cow, and had let a man have his mule forits keep. 

It had not hurt his pride to live on this little mountain farm. He wasas independent there as at home; more so, because the social demandsupon him were as nothing. But no money and no food meant that he mustwork for a wage, and that galled him. Then, at this season of the year, what work was there to be done? No one needed extra laborers. 

It looked very much as if he were brought face to face with starvation, and a man of thirty-five does not encounter such a prospect as gayly asa youth. 

Fortunately for his further catechism, the idea of coffee appealed toMrs. Morgan, and von Rittenheim set about making it, secretly wonderingwhat his breakfast would be like without it, but preparing it none theless cheerfully. 

"I gr-rieve, dear Frau Mor-rgan, " he said, as he offered her the cup, "that I have not cr-ream for you, --or sugar, either, " he added, peeringinto a bowl that he knew to be empty. He brightened as he picked up alittle pitcher. "But molasses; may I give to you molasses?"

"Yes, indeed, " returned Mrs. Morgan, cordially. "Ah like them just aswell as sugar. Just a few, now, " as she held out her cup. 

"Shall it be coffee for you, Herr Doctor, or whisky? See, I have a jugof corn whisky which I myself made. "

"No need to ask me, sir. Whisky, of course, " and the Doctor's eyestwinkled under their shaggy brows. "Not bad fo' new whisky, " hecommented, as he swallowed the fiery stuff. "How do you make it, Baron?Ah didn't know you had a still. "

"Nor have I, except a little affair in a bucket, with a bit of r-rubberhose for a worm. It makes enough for me. It is not a pleasant drink, "he added, quaintly. 

"But better than nothing, eh?" returned the Doctor, jovially, and thenwas sorry that he had said it, for his glance had fallen within thecupboard, and had spied out the emptiness of the larder. To cover hismistake, he added, --

"Mind you-all don't sell any. It's against the law, you know. "

"A very str-range law. If I from my corn make meal or hominy, or whatyou call 'r-roughness, ' for the cattle to eat, I may sell them. But ifI make whisky, I must dr-rink it all myself, eh?"

"Yes, or give it to me! You see they must tax us on something, andwhile they class whisky as a luxury--"

"Cor-rn whisky?" interrupted Friedrich, incredulous. 

"--they know it's enough of a necessity with us North Carolinamountaineers, at any rate, to return some revenue. "

"My sympathy is with the moonshiners, I confess, Herr Doctor; though itis also with men who think such a bever-rage good to dr-rink! You go?Ah, dear lady, I hope it will be soon again that you honor my house. "

The Baron looked after the buggy as it disappeared in the dusk, andthen turned back into the cabin, once more to face the harsh reality ofhis thoughts. 

It grew clear to him that he must seek work in Asheville, the nearestlarge town, a dozen miles away. He must walk there and beg foremployment like any tramp. Such straits as this he had not anticipatedwhen he had made the sacrifice that had forced him to leave theFatherland, though he did not for a moment regret that sacrifice. 

What he could not formulate was just how he had been brought to hispresent pass. It was with stinging honesty that he owned it to bethrough some lack of foresight or of energy. But how should he haveenergy when he had no purpose in life?

To be sure, there was Sydney Carroll, who might supply purpose to anyman who loved her, if that man were not a broken-spirited craven. Thehopeless longing that had been in his eyes while he gazed at the sunsetfilled them once more. What had he to offer her but devotion, --the onecapacity that was mighty within him? No, not even Love could endow himwith Purpose. 

Always he completed the circle of his thoughts. He must work forsomebody else. That would be, indeed, a new experience and a bitter. 

He was fighting with his pride when a call outside summoned him. It wasthe cry that has brought many a man to his door to be shot to death;but von Rittenheim had no feuds, and went forward without hesitation. 

"Can you-all give me some supper?" asked a man who loomed big in thedarkness as he sat on his horse. "Ah must have taken the wrong turnback yonder and wandered off the county road. "

"This r-road goes only by my house like a bow of which the countyr-road is the str-ring, " explained the Baron. "Dismount, I beg, andwith much pleasure will I give you what I can. "

It was little enough, though to the bit of bacon was added a couple ofapples roasted in the ashes. It was to the credit of the visitor'spowers of perception that he did not ask for other than was set beforehim, and compel his host to disclose his poverty. He was a man ofmiddle age, with a shrewd face whose expression was spoiled by anoccasional look of slyness or glance of suspicion. 

"Very fair whisky, " approved the stranger. "Do you get it round here?"

"I make it. "

"You do?" with a sudden contraction of the eyelids. 

Von Rittenheim saw nothing but his own regret at his necessarily meagrehospitality, for which he tried to make amends by being increasinglyagreeable. 

"You will like to see my little affair?" he asked, after describing theprimitive manufacture of his still. 

"Ah'm afraid Ah must be going on; Ah'm obliged to get to Ashevilleto-night. But if you'd sell me a quart of yo' whisky to keep me warm onthe way, Ah'd like it. "

He opened the door and looked out. 

"It's right smart cold, " he added. 

Friedrich made no reply. He had checked his first impulse, which was tooffer to give the fellow all the whisky he wanted, and he looked with asort of fascination at the coin which the other drew from his pocketand tossed on to the table. Undoubtedly he was hungrier than ever hehad been in his life, and not only had he seen his supper devouredbefore his eyes, but there would be nothing to eat in the morningbefore his long walk to town. With this money he could buy something atthe store which he must pass on his way. 

His recent conversation with Dr. Morgan went through his mind. Heglanced at his guest, who was buttoning his coat and tightening a spurpreparatory to starting. 

"I think he will not tell, " thought von Rittenheim, and he found anempty bottle and filled it from the jug. Then he helped the strangerwith his horse, and after his departure returned to look ruefully intothe fire. 

"Never before, " he mused, "did one of my race commit so petty a wrong. "

II

The Snare of the Fowler

It was at the early hour when the morning brings to the earth no warmthand but a dim and grudging light, that a sharp rap summoned vonRittenheim to his cabin door. Three men stood outside in the grayness, their horses tied to trees behind them. To his surprise, Friedrichrecognized his guest of the previous evening. 

"_Ach_, my good friend, you did not reach Asheville last night?"

Unconsciously he frowned as he realized that if these men wantedbreakfast he would have to confess that there was nothing to eat in thehouse. At the thought his instinct of hospitality and his pride bothsuffered. 

"Yes, Ah got to Asheville, and Ah've come back--fo' you. "

The man entered the cabin and motioned to his companions, who steppedone to each side of the Baron. 

"What do you mean?" Von Rittenheim spoke with amazement born of entirelack of understanding. His mind could not compass the treachery of theman to whom he had given his last mouthful. 

"Ah mean that Ah'm a United States deputy-marshal, and that Ah 'restyou fo' retailing. "

Von Rittenheim started, a motion that caused three hands to seek asmany pistol-pockets. 

"You mean for selling to you last night that whisky to keep the coldfrom you?"

"Correct. Of co'se you-all took yo' chances, 'n you struck the wrongman. "

Deputy-marshal Wilder chuckled complacently. He had made few captureslately, and he counted on this to look well at headquarters. Besides, he was having less trouble with the "big Dutchy" than he had expected. Indeed, he had prepared his assistants for a hard fight. 

"You mistake--I did not str-rike you--yet, " said Friedrich, misunderstanding. "But I compr-rehend that you arrest me, and forwhat. "

Von Rittenheim looked at Wilder with so much contempt that the manturned away shamefaced. Still, the justice of his capture appealed tothe German, trained in the soldier's school, for it was true that hehad transgressed the law, and knowingly. That he should have yielded tothe weakness aroused his irritability. 

"I am a fool, " he ejaculated. 

"You-all needn't say anything to incriminate yo'self, " said the deputy, more from habit than because the remark was appropriate. 

"I go with you. "

Von Rittenheim put on his hat. One of the men tinkled a pair ofhandcuffs in his jacket-pocket, and raised his brows inquiringly atWilder. The latter nodded, though doubtfully. As he picked himself upfrom the floor a little later he realized that his doubt was justified. At the mere sight of the irons the Baron had flashed into fury. Heflung one man across the table with a violence that brought him severalminutes' quiet. The other rolled into a corner, and Wilder fellaltogether too near for comfort to the bricks of the fireplace. 

As the deputy-marshal rose he felt von Rittenheim's grasp on histhroat. 

"You understand not, " he cried, his usually good English almostunintelligible in his excitement, "You understand not--how, indeed, should you?--that I am a gentleman. When I say I go with you, I go. "

Giving him a shake as a final relief to his feelings, he added, imperatively, --

"Come, pick up your fr-riends and let us start. You have a horse forme?"

No one was disposed to make another attempt to handcuff the captive, and the little detachment set out, headed by the prisoner, who had muchmore the appearance of a leader than did any one of the crestfallengroup behind him. 

The miles passed but slowly, so heavy was the road's deep mud, and itseemed to von Rittenheim that he had been travelling for hours whenthey crossed the Six Mile Branch that measured but half their journeydone. The keen air of the early morning, whose cold was accentuated bya drizzling rain, chilled him to the bone, unfortified by food as hewas. He experienced the physical misery that forces to submission menof large build more quickly than those of lighter make. 

His mind suffered in sympathy, and his thoughts were of the bitterest. Never had his experience known an act of perfidy like that of Wilder. To have betrayed his hospitality was bad enough, --to have lured him onto selling the whisky was the act of a villain. He cursed the chancethat had brought the fellow to his door. How had it happened?

The scoundrel had said that he had missed the way, but that was notprobable. The county road was plain enough. He must have passed Dr. Morgan, too, who would have set him right. 

A pang of suspicion came into his mind. One had betrayed him, why notthe other? The Doctor was aware that he had the whisky. He must havestopped Wilder, knowing him to be an officer, and told him about it. 

As a matter of fact, the deputy's story was true. In the dusk he hadturned into the Baron's road without noticing that he had left thehighway. He had passed the Doctor, and had spoken to him, but it was onthe State Road, before he had found himself to be out of his way. 

Von Rittenheim, faint from lack of food, sick at heart over hisposition, and filled with disgust at his betrayal, was in a mood toaccept any suspicion, and the evil thought grew fat within him. Hepondered every word of his conversation with the Morgans, and fanciedthat he saw indisputable evidence of the Doctor's falseness in his talkabout whisky. 

The course of affairs in Asheville was brief. Wilder rode beside hisprisoner when they came to the town, not because he feared Friedrich'sescape, but that he might have the appearance of being in command ofthe troop. Von Rittenheim was too closely absorbed in his own painfulthoughts to pay any attention to this enforced companionship. Hedismounted wearily as the squad drew rein before the Federal Building, and followed the deputy-marshal into the commissioner's office. 

It was early, but Mr. Weaver was at his desk, for he happened to bepressed with work. 

He was a nervous, bustling man, with an expression of acuteness, and atrick of rubbing his head with a circular motion, as if he were tryingto effect a tonsure by force of friction. He nodded a recognition ofWilder and his men, and sent a look of surprise at Von Rittenheim, whose appearance was not what was usual in the prisoners brought beforehim, although his dress seemed to indicate the mountaineer. 

"What for?" he asked Wilder, gruffly, when he was at liberty to attendto them. 

"Retailing, " returned the deputy-marshal, and proceeded to tell a storyin which the details of his method of purchasing the liquor weremeagre, but the account of the German's resistance to the officers wasfull. 

Baron von Rittenheim pleaded guilty to the charge against him, andlistened to the exaggerated tale of the arrest without comment, thoughwith a look of disgust that did not escape Mr. Weaver. Perhaps he knewhis man in Wilder. At any rate, a few trenchant questions brought outthe fact that Friedrich had resisted only when an attempt was made tohandcuff him. 

"Really, Wilder, " said the commissioner, sharply, "you make me tired. Haven't you got good sense? Do you suppose a fellow like that is goingto run away?"

"No knowing what these cussed foreigners won't do, " growled Wilder, andadded something about being blown up before his prisoner, that broughta frown to Mr. Weaver's brow. 

He was puzzled about von Rittenheim, and he felt sure that there wassomething in the case that was not in evidence; but the man had pleadedguilty, and there was nothing to do but to hold him for the Grand Jury. 

"Who'll go on your bond?" he asked, taking up his pen. 

"Bond?"

"You must give a justified bond for your appearance before the UnitedStates Court in May. "

"Oh, I see. I do not know. I have no fr-riends. "

"It's only two hundred dollars. "

"It might be only two hundred cents, still would it be the same. Yesterday I thought I had fr-riends, but to-day----"

He broke off abruptly, and again Weaver gave a perplexed rub to the topof his head. He opened a door and spoke to a negro boy who passed awaiting life in the anteroom. 

"Sam, ask Mr. Gudger to step here, if he's in the building. "

Mr. Gudger was a professional bondsman who added this calling to thatof real-estate dealer and insurance agent, and interwove the threeoccupations with some talent and much success. 

Von Rittenheim's farm served to secure Gudger against loss, while themention of its existence caused the commissioner again to rub his head. Why in the world should a man----? He gave up the conundrum in despair, and applied himself to the necessary business. 

Friedrich took but a passive part in the transaction, whose detail, with its rapid interchange of technicalities, he did not attempt tounderstand. His courteous dignity and submission to the justice of thelegal procedure told nothing of the caldron of feeling boiling withinhim at the _in_-justice that had brought him to a pass where this thingwas right. 

As he walked away from the Federal Building, his mind began to leavethese thoughts and to dwell on the almost equally disagreeable subjectof what he should do next. His immediate need was of something to eat. He was sick with hunger, and he found himself even casting a regretfulthought after Wilder's quarter of a dollar. His hand had happened totouch it in his pocket during his morning ride, and he had flung itfrom him as far as he could into the woods beside the road. 

"But, no, " he thought, "rather would I starve than buy food with that. "

He went up Patton Avenue, and eyed the signs on the buildings in thehope of seeing one that would suggest to him some way of making money. 

The early morning's rain had turned into snow, that beat into the openplace from the north, and drove the loafers from their accustomedhaunts. The pavement was whitening rapidly. 

"The first of April to-morrow, " thought von Rittenheim, disgustedly. "What will happen to those pease that I put into the gr-round lastweek?"

As he stood, sheltered from the storm by a projecting building, hereflected that it was useless for him to go back into the country. There was no planting to be done as early as this, except that of a fewgarden vegetables, and he had no seeds to plant even if he went. 

He remembered as if it were long ago that he had meant to come toAsheville to-day, and thought with grim humor that after all he had notbeen obliged to walk. 

Yes, he must find some occupation in town that would support him duringthe month that intervened before the sitting of the court. He knew thatthe usual sentence for moonshining was "A hundred dollars or threemonths, " and, since he had no money, he must submit to the degradationof imprisonment. May, June, July. That would bring him to August, andit would be time enough then to consider the future. 

A von Rittenheim in prison! A shudder went through him with thethought, and a wild desire to avert the evil. If only he had notpledged his farm to that bondsman!

Friedrich's life had not been one to promote business knowledge. Athome he had known but little of affairs--in America, nothing. He didnot realize that he might have raised on his place ten times the amountof his fine without affecting Mr. Gudger's interests. He thought thathis negotiation with that excellent person had put his estate out ofhis hands for all similar uses. Vaguely he thought that the bondsmanwould be released when his trial came on, and that at that time theland would be free again, and that perhaps it might be arranged then. But he did not see how, for they would not allow him to go out to doit, and he did not know any one who would take a mortgage on it. And, oh, how sleepy he was--and how hungry--and how the cold bit throughhim!

He bestirred himself and walked around the square. He was studying thewindow of a harness-shop which appealed to him as having to do with thesubject he knew most about--horses; and he was pondering in whatcapacity he would offer his services to the proprietor, when he wasaccosted by a negro boy. 

"The boss wants you-all over yonder, " he said, grinning affably. 

"The--who?" asked the Baron, to whom the appellation was new. 

"The boss in the revenue office, Mr. Weaver. He wants you. Ah'm his boySam. "

Friedrich supposed that some form had been omitted, and returned withdocility to the Federal Building. Mr. Weaver nodded pleasantly as heentered. 

"This German was brought in here just after you went out, vonRittenheim. I want you to interpret, if you will. "

Friedrich's breakfast seemed now more nebulous than ever, but even thishour's tedium came to an end, and Weaver, with a "Thank you, " pushed ahalf-dollar along the table towards him. 

"No, no. It is a pleasure, my dear sir, " began the Baron, when suddenlyhe brought his heels together, made his low bow, and took the money. "Ithank you, _mein Herr_. I need it. I will take it. "

Mr. Weaver looked at him with the provincial American's amusement atforeigners' ways, mingled with shrewdness. 

"By the way, do you mind telling me how you-all got into this scrape?"

The German flushed and tossed back his head. Then he controlledhimself, and said, gently, --

"But perhaps you have a r-right to know. If you will excuse me for atime, however, I will r-return after a breakfast. I left my house veryearly this morning. "

Weaver noticed the sudden pinched look of faintness that turned vonRittenheim's ruddy face ashy. 

"He's missed more than one meal, " he thought, but said aloud only, "Anytime before two o'clock. "

It was not much that the commissioner learned from von Rittenheim afterall, for food brought back self-reliance and courage, and he felt thatthe whole story of his trouble would be an appeal for sympathy that hecould not make. However, he told enough to cause Weaver to say underhis breath a few condemnatory things about the deputy-marshal, and thenhe asked, --

"What are you going to do?"

"I hope to find some occupation in Asheville until the time of mytr-rial. "

"What do you want to do?"

"I care not. I am well, str-rong. I fear not labor. "

Mr. Weaver compared with a glance von Rittenheim's figure with his ownpuny proportions, and said, --

"No, I should think not!"

Then he rubbed his head and asked, --

"Can you teach?"

"I know not. Never have I done such a thing. I am a soldier. "

"That's easily seen. Still, you're a university man. "

He touched his forehead just where on Friedrich's the tip of his scarwas visible. 

"Oh, yes. I was at Heidelberg. "

"I suspect you'll do if you-all are willing to try. My boy's fittingfor college, and he's getting badly behind in his German. If you'dtackle his instruction for a few weeks, I'm sure it would be of greatvalue to him. Will you do it?"

"If you will accept a novice, I shall be gr-rateful. " And againFriedrich made his low bow. 

"Then be at my house at five this afternoon, and here's a week's salaryin advance. You'll be wanting it, perhaps. "

So was Baron von Rittenheim established as Tommy Weaver's tutor, andfortunate he thought himself. 

Fortunate he was, in that this engagement secured to him his simpleliving; but most unlucky in that it left him with too much spare time. Had he worked at a task that occupied seven or eight hours a day, histhoughts would have filtered through the weariness of his body, andbeen purified thereby. But his leisure was abundant, and he spent it inbrooding over his troubles. 

To those that had wrung him before was added his present shame. And hisshame was embittered by his suspicion of Dr. Morgan. He held Wilder ofno account. He was beneath a gentleman's notice. But Dr. Morgan hadpretended to be his friend. He dwelt on all his intercourse with him, and weighed every conversation that he remembered. There came to himhalf a hundred trifling circumstances that seemed to substantiate hisdistrust. 

The lack of his accustomed exercise told on his health. He grew moodyand irritable, and daily the wish for revenge grew stronger. Satisfaction was due him, and satisfaction he would have. 

III

A Weak Man's Strength

It was three weeks later. Bud Yarebrough, going rabbit-hunting, pondered, as he trudged along the road, upon the freaks of an Aprilthat had come in with snow, and alternately had warmed and chilled theswelling hopes of bud and blossom, until the end of the month showedtrees and shrubs but a trifle farther advanced than at its beginning. 

"Jus' like M'lissy used to treat me!"

He made the comparison with a breath of relief that that time ofwretchedness and rapture was past. 

He heard the sound of hoofs approaching from behind, and whistled toheel his three scrawny hounds. When he made sure of the rider'sidentity, he shifted his gun to his other shoulder, and pulled off hisremnant of felt in salutation of Miss Carroll. As she stopped to speakto him, he stared earnestly at her horse's neck; but kind Naturepermits even a shy man's vision to take a wide range, and Bud by nomeans was unobservant of the brilliant skin framed by a glory of redhair; of the velvet dark eyes with their darker lashes; and of thecorduroy habit, brownly harmonious with the sorrel horse and the clayroad, as with its wearer's coloring. 

"How is Melissa, Bud?"

Some of Sydney Carroll's friends thought her voice her greatest charm. 

"And the baby? She's a dear baby! I think she looks like Melissa, don'tyou?"

"She's tol'able--they's tol'able. Yes, Miss Sydney, they says so, "replied the lad, whose condition as the father of a family seemed tocast him into depths of bashfulness. 

"It's a great responsibility for you, Bud. I hope you feel it. And Ihope that you won't let _this_ happen often. "

Sydney gravely tapped her eye with her finger, while Bud stole a shamedhand over his own visual organ, which was surrounded by the palingglories of a recent contusion. The color mounted to his hair as hestammered, --

"Hit wasn't that--that what you think, Miss Sydney. Hit was a stick o'wood----" But his voice trailed off into nothingness before the girl'sgaze. 

"Bud, I know--I heard how it happened. Don't tell me what isn't true. "

Bud kicked a stone that lay at his feet. 

"You-all always does find out, " he murmured, with unwilling admiration. "You see Ah was right smart glad about the baby, 'n 'bout M'lissy bein'so well, 'n Ah jus' took a little; 'n Pink Pressley was awfulaggravatin', 'n Ah jus' 'lowed Ah didn' want nothin' t' interrup' mahjoy, " he ended, looking up with a humorous twinkle that brought aresponsive smile to the severe young face before him. 

"But Ah know hit ain' right to M'lissy, " he went on hurriedly, for herealized that the smile was only transitory, "'n Ah'm goin' to try, Ahsho' am, " he added, stepping out of the way of the horse, grown uneasyat this long colloquy. "Ah certainly am goin' to get out the tools 'nlook 'em over to-morrow, " he finished, as Sydney gathered up her reins. 

"I hope so, Bud; but why don't you do it _to-day_?" she called back, saying to herself, as Johnny broke into a canter, "As if poor Bud evercould do anything to-day! He should have been born in the land of_mañana_. "

The horse lengthened his stride into a sweeping gallop where thecondition of the road permitted, slackening his pace and betakinghimself to the side, and even to the footpath on the bank, when the mudgrew too deep for speed. The girl paid little attention to him, for, like all mountain horses, he was accustomed to pick his way with asagacity that man cannot assist. 

On Sydney's face rested a shade too heavy to have been brought there bythe failings, customary to the country, of Melissa's husband. Buttwenty years are not proof against the joint attack of sunshine andfresh, sweet air and the glorious motion of a horse, and she seemed ahappy, care-free girl to Bob Morgan, sitting in the sun on his father'sporch. 

Unlike the Carroll house, which was of stone and surrounded by roofedverandas, Dr. Morgan's dwelling presented an unabashed glare ofwhitewashed weather-boarding. It needed only green shutters to be ahostage from New England. In summer a rose climbed over the portico andbroke the snowy monotony, but at this season the leafless stems servedonly to enhance the bareness. 

As he heard Sydney's approach Bob raised his aching head from his handand sprang unsteadily to his feet. She was quick to notice hiscondition, for she knew only too well the weakness that was wringingthe heart of the good old Doctor and lining "Miss Sophy's" face. Bobwas their only son and only child, "'n hit do seem strange, " thecountry women said, "that a man who's done's much good's the ol' Doctorshouldn' have better luck with his boy. "

Sydney flushed as Bob ran unevenly along the path to take her from thesaddle. Her experiences seemed to be like history this morning. Alittle sigh escaped her as she looked about for the Doctor, and thenresigned herself to be lifted down by Bob's strong and eager, thoughshaking, hands. 

To him her manner was quite the reverse of her attitude towards theother victim of a weak will from whom she just had parted. If toYarebrough she was straightforward, to this man she was diplomatic. Ifto Bud she was Mentor, to Bob she was Telemachus. If Bud stared at herin puzzled surprise at her "always finding out, " Bob exerted himself toappear before her a man on whom she could rely, because he was surethat she never had thought of him otherwise. 

"Yes, it is a lovely day, " she replied, in answer to his salutation. "Is your mother at home? And what in the world is the matter with yourface?"

He was holding open the gate for her to pass, and she saw that it wouldbe absurd any longer to ignore his appearance. 

"The calf got mixed up in the rose-bush, and while I was getting himout he kicked me, " explained Bob, glibly, shamelessly loading upon theback of a tiny and unoffending little bull-calf nibbling in front ofthe door the burden of his scratched and bruise-stained countenance. 

Sydney averted her eyes as he told this unblushing lie, and sighedagain as she thought of the poor mother, for she knew how long aCarolinian can stay on a horse, and that Bob must have been bad, indeed, to have rolled off, as it was evident that he had done. 

"You must let me do it up for you, " she said. "Go and get me thewitch-hazel and something for a bandage. "

She sat and waited for him in the living-room, where modern taste hadmade use of the blue-and-white homespun coverlets of the Doctor'sgrandmother as door curtains and couch covers. She noticed the kettleswung over the fire from the same crane that had balanced its burdenthus for a hundred years, and she listened to Bob knocking aboutup-stairs in the room over her head. 

"Now, sit down, " she cried, when he returned. "You're so dreadfullytall. Towels! That won't do at all! Here, I'll wet my handkerchief andput that on first. "

"May I keep it?"

Bob's good eye twinkled merrily, and what was visible of the othershowed some amusement. 

"Of course not. You'll return it to me as soon as you can. "

Sydney's mouth twitched in appreciation of his audacity. 

"I'm afraid I can't very soon, " he replied, gravely. "I expect to needit for a long, long time. "

He turned to the mirror and gazed therein at his shock of black hairrising above the linen, and at the one rueful eye visible below. 

"It makes me look rather a fool, doesn't it? But it's awfully sweet ofyou to do it, Sydney. I say, Sydney. " Suddenly he wheeled about andseized both her hands. "Is it always going to be this way? Are younever going to care for me? You know I'd give my life for you. Younever asked me to do anything yet that I didn't do, " he hurried on, yearning for an answer from her, yet knowing well that when she raisedthose white lids the eyes would not give him the reply that he wanted. "Truly, I'll do anything you say, if only you'll care a little, just alittle, dear!"

He drew her to him, and she raised to his her eyes, warm, brown, swimming in tears. He let fall her hands, realizing that she _knew_--thatshe always had known--and feeling how empty were his words when he hadnever tried to do for her sake the one thing that might touch her. 

Letting fall her hands, he sank speechless upon his knees, and buriedhis head in the blue-and-white coverlet of the couch. 

With tear-laden eyes Sydney walked to the gate, her hands outstretchedbefore her, like a blind man feeling his way. Johnny rubbed his nose insympathy against her shoulder as she unfastened his chain. It was thefirst time in Bob's fond, foolish, generous life that ever he hadallowed Sydney to do for herself anything that he could do for her. 

As Johnny carried his mistress down the State Road, and the "bare, ruined choirs" of the trees became clear to her eyes once again, sherealized that a new pain and a new pity had come into her life--and anew responsibility. 

IV

"Thou Shalt Not Covet thy Neighbor's Wife"

It was fortunate that Johnny needed no guiding hand, for his mistresswas far too absorbed in her thoughts to give him any attention. She didnot see the ranks of gray tree-trunks through which peered glimpses ofblue as the land fell away against the background of the sky; the heavybunches of mistletoe in some leafless top failed to attract herattention; and she was blind to the beauty of the coarse greenpine-needles against the brown masses of the oak-leaves that cling tothe branches all winter to cheat the Devil of his bargain, the Earth, which is to be his when all the boughs are bare. 

Her whole soul was filled with a longing to help Bob Morgan, --Bob, herdear old playfellow, so lovable and, alas! so weak. Already she hadtried to foster his self-respect and to encourage his firmness byindirect means. It seemed now as if the chance were given her to actmore openly. If only she could do so without rousing in the boy'sbreast a hope that she could not fulfil, for she knew that never couldshe love him as he wanted to be loved!

It was not that a difference of birth, of rearing, of tradition placedher apart from him. She even had a fondness for him, but love--no!

She had been thinking a great deal about love of late. She knew what itwas to have men in love with her. Her grandmother, with whom she livedat fine old Oakwood, had introduced her in Baltimore, where she revivedmany old-time connections; and she had had another season in NewOrleans. Her striking beauty had brought her a success that pleasedMrs. Carroll more than Sydney herself. The haughty old lady approvedthe girl's coldness, and nodded in agreement with Aunt Frony, whowatched her young mistress's path with proprietary satisfaction. 

"She cert'nly do favor her paw; 'n she walks along tru all demgen'lemen like Joseph tru dat co'nfiel' wif de sheaves a-bowin' befo'him, 'n he never pay no mo' 'tention to 'em 'n if dey jus' commonroughness--'n no mo' do she!"

"My son's daughter demeans herself as one of her family should, " hadbeen Mrs. Carroll's reply; but she was really gratified at thisaloofness that seemed to excite the attention which she felt to be hergranddaughter's due, without inducing a surrender of her heart. Sydney's marriage would take from her her only companion, and was anevil that the old lady recognized as necessary, but to be put off aslong as possible. 

Sydney regarded the various love-affairs in which she had had a part asthe usual incidents in every woman's career. They had touched herlittle. She was extraordinarily lacking in conceit, and she could notrealize, since her sympathy was unquickened by a responsive affection, that a love of short growth could mean much to its possessor. This lackof appreciation of love's intensity was increased by the fact that herown simplicity of thought and straightforwardness of character alwayshad prevented her from taking seriously any man's attentions until theyresolved themselves definitely into intentions. 

None of her experiences had moved her like this with Bob Morgan. When, in the autumn, she had given up her season in town on account of hergrandmother's feebleness, it had been one of her consolations that atleast she would be free from that sort of complication. And here wassomething worse than anything that had gone before, because her realfondness for Bob gave her an insight into his pain, and a pity for thesorrow that she knew she must inflict upon him. 

She felt vaguely into the darkness for a realization of what love was. She had lain awake many a night that winter, waiting for hergrandmother's call, listening to the rain as it dripped upon the rooffrom the twig-tips of the oaks, and dreaming a waking dream of what alove would mean that would make any sacrifice a joy, any pain arapture. And, like all women from Time's beginning, she had cried intothe shadow, "Oh, that I, too, may have this joy, this sacrifice, thispain!"

At the cross-roads Johnny fell into a walk until he should learn hisrider's wish. _He_ preferred to go home; but if she chose theright-hand road he was willing to carry her over it, mistaken as hefelt her decision to be. 

Sydney roused at the change of gait and turned the horse into thehomeward way; but, just as he was settling down gleefully to his work, she remembered that she had failed entirely to accomplish the errandupon which her grandmother had sent her; the errand that had cloudedher brow with anxiety. 

Mrs. Carroll was very fond of Baron von Rittenheim. He interested her, he amused her, he aroused her curiosity, and his formal mannersrecalled to her memory the gallants of her youth. He called upon herfrequently, and the old lady looked forward to his visits withagreeable anticipation. For three weeks he had not been to Oakwood, andshe was determined no longer to endure such neglect, --at any rate, toinvestigate it. To this end she had sent Sydney to Dr. Morgan's toinquire of him news of the recreant German. And Sydney had not stayedto see the Doctor or Mrs. Morgan!

Obedient to the rein, Johnny stopped and looked about with an air ofinquiring patronage. His mistress was not given to abrupt changes ofintention, but he was willing to humor her when they appeared. 

"I can't go back to the Doctor's, of course, " thought Sydney. "I'll goto Melissa Yarebrough's, --she'll know. "

Off from the State Road, just beyond the cross-roads, a rough trail ledinto the woods. Sydney turned into it, and rode between bushes oflaurel and rhododendron, whose glossy leaves shone dark above her headeven as she sat upon her horse. Patches of vivid green moss creptconfidingly to the foot of the oaks, and a bit of arbutus, as pink asthe palm of a baby's hand, peered from under its leathery cover. A fewdaring buds tentatively were opening their tiny leaves to the world, and some stray blades of grass pricked, verdant, through the generalbrownness. 

This was but a deserted lane, which Sydney had chosen as affording ashort cut to Melissa's, and, of a sudden, the passage was closed by asnake fence eight rails high. It was beyond Johnny's jumping powers, but his rider was undaunted. Leaning over the right side of the horseshe dexterously pulled apart the top rails where they crossed, andJohnny cleverly stepped back in time to avoid their hitting his legs intheir fall. Pressing forward again, she dislodged the next pair, andthen Johnny took the breach neatly, and picked his discriminating waythrough the brush on the other side. 

Though their cabins were a mile apart, the Yarebroughs were Baron vonRittenheim's nearest neighbors, and Sydney thought that Melissa wouldknow if he were ill, as she feared. 

But as she rode on in sinuous avoidance of protruding boughs andupstart bushes, she was seized by a shyness quite new to her. It seemedas if she could not bear to question Melissa about the Baron. Shefancied she saw the girl's possible look of amusement. It becamesuddenly a position which she stigmatized as "horrid!"

Beside her a big white pine spread an inviting seat of heaped-up tags, and she slipped off the horse and leaned against the broad trunk. Johnny, at the bridle's length, nibbled at the enamelled green of thelion's tongue with equine vanity, --for he knew that it would beautifyhis coat, --and pushed his muzzle down among the dry leaves beyond theradius of the pine-needles, lipping them daintily in search ofsomething more appetizing beneath. 

The sunshine forced its way through the thick branches of the pine andfrolicked gayly with Sydney's ruddy hair, as she tossed aside her hatand sat down to recover her composure, so suddenly and extraordinarilylost. Perhaps five minutes, perhaps ten, had passed thus in reflectionwhich she called to herself "disgustingly self-conscious, " when Johnnylifted his head and pointed his ears towards that side where theundergrowth was thickest. Sydney sprang to her feet and put on her hat, for she had no desire to be caught day-dreaming. 

Having taken this precaution, however, she stood quite still, andJohnny, with satisfied curiosity, renewed his search among the fallenleaves. 

The approaching sounds betrayed that there was a path on the other sideof the thicket. Indeed, Sydney remembered that one ran from Melissa'scabin to a spring not far off, and she realized that she must be nearerto the house than she had appreciated. The voices were those of a manand a woman in no good humor with each other. In fact, a lively quarrelseemed to be in progress. 

"Ah certainly wish you-all wouldn' come here no mo'. " It was Melissa. "_Ah_ don' wan' to see ye; 'n you are so aggravatin' to Bud. "

"Ye used to like to have me come, ye know ye did, M'lissy. Don' you-allremember the time Ah kissed ye behin' the big oak in yo' daddy'spasture? Ye liked me well enough then. "

"You shut up, Pink Pressley. Ah was a silly girl then, 'n Ah'm amarried woman now, 'n hit's time you-all stopped foolin' roun' here. "

The voices lessened in the distance, and a jay-bird which had screamedlustily at their approach turned his attention once more to Sydney, andfound her still standing, bridle in hand. 

She was shocked at the trouble that seemed to threaten the happiness ofBud Yarebrough's household, and she stood uncertain whether to turnback from the encounter upon which unwittingly she had intruded, orwhether to go on in case Melissa needed her help or her comfort. Johnnypushed against her invitingly, and she mounted him from a near-bystump, and, breaking through the scrub, turned his head along the pathin the direction of the cabin. 

The house proved, indeed, to be close at hand; it had been hardly worthwhile to mount the horse, so near it stood to the pine-tree of Sydney'sambush. The mud daubing between the logs shone bright through the hazyspring atmosphere, and a thick white smoke, betokening a handful ofchips newly tossed upon the fire, ascended slowly into the air as ifeager to explore the dulled blue sky above. 

As Sydney came around the corner of the cabin, for the path debouchedat the rear, a terrified white rooster came running from the front, hisoutstretched wings lengthening the stride of his sturdy yellow legs, and his wattles swinging violently from side to side. At the samemoment angry voices again struck Sydney's ears. 

"Never, never, never!"

Melissa was tremulously insistent. 

"Ah'll make you-all sorry you ever married Bud Yarebrough, " the manresponded, and Sydney turned the corner just in time to see him seizeMelissa by the waist and lean over to kiss her. The girl took advantageof the loosening of his hold as he caught sight of Miss Carroll, anddelivered him a resounding slap upon his cheek, when she turned pantingto her opportune visitor. 

"You-all saw, Miss Sydney, he didn' do hit! He's that hateful, he won'let me alone, --always pesterin' roun' here when Bud ain' to home. Ah'low Ah jus' hate him!"

Stricken still with surprise, Sydney sat upon her horse, her facescarlet with distress and stern with disapproval. Pink glanced up ather, and began to sidle off, abashed. He could not forbear, however, throwing back a parting threat. 

"You-all remember what Ah said. Ah'll make you sorry you ever marriedBud Yarebrough. "

"What does it mean, Melissa?" asked Sydney, dropping from the saddleand turning her face, now colorless, upon the weeping little wifecrouching in a corner of the doorway. 

"Jus' what you-all heard, Miss Sydney. He's always comin' here whenBud's away; 'n when he meets Bud anywheres they's always quar'lin', 'nAh'm jus' wore out with him. "

Sydney hung the horse's bridle over the end of an upturned horseshoenailed to a tree before the cabin, and sat down on the door-step besideher humble friend. 

"Melissa, tell me, "--she was very grave, --"did he ever before--doeshe----?"

She sought vainly for some phrase less bald than that which seemed souncompromisingly full of embarrassment. 

"Did he ever try to kiss me, ye mean? No, indeed, Miss Sydney; he sho'didn'. Only one time when Ah was a girl we kep' company fo' a rightsmart bit, 'n one night, when a lot of us was playin' tag in thepasture, he caught me 'n kissed me. That's the only time, hones', MissSydney. He never done a thing like this befo' to-day since Ah beenmarried; jus' hung roun' 'n been aggravatin'. "

Sydney took the hard hand between her own soft palms and stroked itgently. 

"Hush, dear, don't sob like that. Can't Bud keep him away? Can't heforbid him to come here?"

"Ah'd be afraid to tell him about this, he's that fiery-tempered, Budis. He goes along jus' as easy, 'n then some day he jus' natchelly goesrarin'. When Ah've tol' him how Pink comes botherin' me, he jus' says, 'Pore feller, he didn' get ye. Ah'm sorry fo' him. ' But 'f Ah tell himthis he might shoot him, 'n Ah couldn' bear that!"

Melissa ended with a shuddering cry, and Sydney remembered pityinglyhow the girl's brother had been brought home dead two years ago, shotin a quarrel whose primary cause was corn whisky. 

"Tell me, Melissa, what did he mean by that threat, --that he'd make yousorry you'd married Bud? How can he harm him?"

"Ah don' know, oh, Ah don' know, " sobbed the poor girl; "only hit'ssomethin' mahty mean fo' sho'. He's that low-down 'n sneaky hit's sho'to be somethin' mean, " she reiterated. 

"It seems to me, Melissa, that if I were married, I shouldn't want tohave a secret that my husband didn't know. Of course, you understandBud best; but be sure, quite sure, that it is right before you keepanything from him, won't you?"

A wail from within the cabin brought both the girls to their feet. Thefortunate rule that most women who have to worry over their husbandshave children to divert their minds was unbroken in Melissa's case. Shewiped her eyes, took the morsel from the bed, and kissed itpassionately, while Sydney looked on with avid gaze. 

"May I take her for a little while, Melissa?" she asked, humbly. "She'sso sweet!"

V

A Strong Man's Weakness

Through all the year's round of weather, good and bad; through the snowof January and the wind of March; through the glare of the warm Aprildays before the foliage casts its protective shade over the earth;through the heat of midsummer and the glorious wine-clear air ofOctober, round again to the rigors of Christmas, --through all thecircle of the twelvemonth Melissa's door stood open. 

To all appearance, ventilation is a hobby ridden and overridden in theCarolina mountains, but the doors are not left open for hygiene's sake, or even in hospitality's good name. It is to promote the performance ofthe ordinary duties of life, more comfortably carried on in the lightthan in the dark; for since the shuttered openings that serve aswindows are unglazed, the door must be left open to admit the sun'sbright rays. 

The one room of Melissa's cabin was scrupulously clean. Pictures of thePresident and of one of the happy victims of Somebody's PleasantPain-Killer were tacked upon the walls beside long strings of dried redpeppers and of okra. A gourd, cut into the shape of a cup, hung upon anail by its crooked neck. The bed was covered neatly with ablue-and-white homespun coverlet, and a kettle steamed upon the fire atthe opposite end of the room. 

The sunlight swept across the floor as far as Sydney's feet, andglinted upon the silver spur at her left heel. It crept up to herradiant face and glowing hair. As she held the little baby in herstrong young arms, she stood transfigured like an angel of old in theeyes of Friedrich von Rittenheim as he walked up the trail that servedas an approach to the cabin. 

"_Himmlisches Mädchen_, " he whispered, and pulled off his cap with afeeling of guilt that he was bringing into this pure presence histhoughts of hatred and revenge. 

Little Miss Yarebrough had a narrow escape from a fall as her temporarynurse's eyes fell upon the figure outside the door. 

"Ah, Baron, it is you!" cried Sydney, tucking the baby into the hollowof one arm and extending her hand. "Grandmother has been disturbedabout you. Have you been away? It is a long time since you were atOakwood. "

"Has it seemed so to you?" he said, tenderly. "I have been to the town, and I am but now r-returned within a pair of minutes. I have come toask Mrs. Yare-brough to put into order my house for me. "

The unexpected sight of Sydney was like the sudden breaking out ofsunshine through a bank of stormy cloud to the man whose whole mind hadbeen filled for days with poisonous thoughts. He beamed upon Melissaand shook hands with her cordially. 

"Yes, sir, Ah'll go this mo'nin'. You-all wants yo' flo's mopped up, Ahsuppose. "

She took the baby from Sydney and laid her on the bed, and began to gettogether what paraphernalia she needed. 

"Bud ain' comin' home to dinner, so Ah c'n stay 'n cook yo's 'f yewant, " she called, cheerily, breaking in upon the silence that hadfallen between her two guests; a silence fraught with happiness for theman, and with a return of that terrible shyness for the girl. Why she, the belle of two seasons, whose composure always had been the envy ofthe girls of her age, should stand overcome with embarrassment beforethis jeans-clad German she truly did not know. All power of initiativeseemed to have passed from her, and von Rittenheim stood before her andfeasted his eyes upon her in a way that she had been wont to condemn as"horridly foreign, " and she did nothing to relieve the situation. 

At last the happy idea of flight suggested itself. She pinned her hatmore securely and unlooped her skirt. 

The glow died from von Rittenheim's face. 

"You go? So goes ever-ything from me--love and fr-riendship--and evenhope, " he added, in a whisper. Then, as Sydney looked at him curiously, "Let me bring Yonny for you. "

Sydney kissed a "good-by" upon the fat hand of the baby, now hooded forher journey to the Baron's, and murmured to Melissa, --

"You will think of what I said? You will be quite sure?"

She turned and surrendered her slender, booted foot to the Baron'spalm, and was tossed deftly into the saddle. She had no realization ofthe thrill that went through him at the touch; he had no notion of theadmiration that his dexterity roused in her. 

"I came by a path through the woods and tore down some of Bud's fence. Will you go with me and put it up? It is only a little way. "

Von Rittenheim was delighted at the prolongation of his happiness. Towalk with his hand on her horse's neck; to do her a trifling service!It was heaven!

"You will come soon to Oakwood, won't you? Grandmother is eager to seeyou, and we are expecting some guests from New York on this afternoon'strain--the Wendells; I want them to know you. "

The words were as sweet as the voice, and he repeated them in a whisperas he put together the rails of Bud's fence after Johnny's surmountingheels had cleared them. 

Then the chill swept around his heart again. It did seem to him as ifhe were losing everything that made life good. In the old country hehad yielded up the little that was left after happiness had been stolenfrom him. Here he had yearned for friendship, and it had played him ascurvy trick; he had begun to see a faint glimmer of hope at the end ofthe black cavern--just a point of light that gave promise of a land ofsun and cheer beyond. And now he felt that he had no right to traveltowards that point of light, to strive to reach it and make that landhis own, while shame hung over him, and black and bitter thoughtsfilled his heart. 

His was a simple nature, von Rittenheim's, --one that yielded easily tothe common thralls of love and life. He should have been the happy headof a family with the daily round of duties on a large estate to occupyhis thoughts. It was one of the freaks of fate that the kindlyoutpourings of his heart always had been flung back at him. Unkindchance had done her best to ruin a gentle and trusting disposition. 

He was musing on his wrongs as he tramped along the path between Bud'scabin and his own. His high-flung head was bent and his gaze downcast. He struck ruthlessly at the dry stalks of goldenrod on the bank, nodding southward before the prevailing wind. He still was brooding ashe approached his cabin; brooding so darkly as to bring over hisjudgment the dim mists of error and of injustice with their attendantcloud of revenge. 

A mud-spattered buggy before the door drew his attention. It mustbe--yet how would he dare? Still it _was_ Dr. Morgan's buggy. Thatlong-haired black mule was unmistakable. The sight of it shook vonRittenheim as a breeze drives through pine-boughs. He felt choked, andput his hand to his throat. 

The old man had come to exult over him, and what could he do in his ownhouse? Ah, there was only one thing to be done. Everything pushed himtowards it. 

But _now_--he would not be so cowardly as not to face the man he hated, though a step into the brush beside the road would have concealed him. As he approached he saw the Doctor's tall figure filling the height ofthe doorway, though there was plenty of room to spare on each side. Hewas talking to Melissa Yarebrough, who was within making a fire as apreliminary to her cleaning and cooking operations. 

"He sent you-all over, did he? Well, Ah 'low that means he's comingalong in a little bit. He's been away? Is that so? Ah wonder where. Oh, here he is. How are you, Baron? Pretty day, isn't it? Melissa tells meyou-all've been away. "

"Yes, " curtly. "I have been away, as no one should know better thanyou. "

"Better'n me? Ah never knew it till this minute when Melissa told me. Ah was at Mrs. Carroll's this morning, and she commissioned me to findout where you-all were at, and why you hadn't been to see her. She hadsent Sydney to my house for news, but Ah missed her on the roadsomehow. The old lady put me through mah catechism, and Ah couldn'ttell her anything about you since the day Sophy and Ah were here, so Ahcame by to find out. "

"Do you dare say to me, sir, that you do not know where I have been?"

"Ah certainly do say it! How in the world should Ah know all themovements of people in God-forsaken coves like this?"

The German's persistence was beginning to irritate the Carolinian, grown autocratic and unaccustomed to question by long years of practiceamong a country-folk submissive to the dictation of a leader. 

"You are under my r-roof there where you stand. Come you down herewhere only heaven's blue covers you, and I will tell you some thingswhich it is well that you should know. "

To keep them out of mischief Friedrich thrust his clinched hands intohis pockets. Morgan did not see the application of von Rittenheim'swords about the sky, but he felt a threat in his tone, and, being nocoward, he came down the steps promptly. He even went so far as todispense with his quid. 

A sharp contrast they presented, --the German, erect, well-poised, plainly a soldier in spite of his ill-fitting clothes; the American, lank and stomachless, yet taller than the other in spite of his bentshoulders. His tawny beard was guiltless of care. Of all his slack bodyonly his eyes showed alertness as they looked sidewise from under hisold felt hat. 

"Ah don't know what you-all are driving at, but Ah'm thirsting fo' thatinformation you're advertising to present me with free!" he drawled. 

Von Rittenheim now had himself under control, though his feet and handswere cold because of the retreat to his head of the fighting fluid. 

"Let me ask you--after you were here with Mrs. Morgan--it is now threeweeks ago--did you not meet a man who asked you the way?"

"Asked the way? Let me see. Yes, Ah 'low we did. White horse?"

"A white horse. Exactly, " returned von Rittenheim, dryly. "You directedhim on his road only too well. "

"What do you mean? He asked if there was any cut that would shorten theway to Asheville, and Ah told him the shortest he could do was to stickto the State Road. "

"Allow me to tell you, sir, that you lie. "

Dr. Morgan flung up his head angrily. But he was loath to think thatvon Rittenheim, whom he liked, was trying to pick a quarrel with him. Besides, English spoken with a foreign accent fails to carry convictionto ears unaccustomed to hearing it, and Morgan thought the Germanunfortunate in his choice of a word. 

"You mean Ah'm mistaken, and there is a short cut? If there is, Ahdon't know it. Where do you leave the State Road?"

"I mean, sir, that you tell not the truth, that you lie, when you saythat that was your conversation with that man. You lie, I say!"

Now there could be no mistake. The Doctor's sixty years fell from himlike a mantle. He looked a young man, and his face unfurled the bannerof wrath that knows no nation, but calls all the earth its own. The twomen glared at each other like dogs leaping against their collars, eagerto bury their teeth in each other's throats. 

"By God, " growled the elder man, "if you-all weren't a damned foreignerAh'd kill you! But Ah suppose you don't know any better, and Ah've gotto let you alone. "

He turned and walked to his buggy. He did not forget to pat the nosesof the horse and mule that drew his equipage. He clambered into thecarriage, which protested, creaking, against his weight, and he joggedslowly out of sight. 

"Oh, my Lawd, " he whispered to himself, gently rocking from side toside, --"oh, my Lawd, why ain't he an American? Oh, why ain't he? But aforeigner! He ain't responsible!"

Friedrich watched the retreating buggy with mingled disgust andsurprise. 

"Why did he not r-resent that? If not that, what? He is br-rave, thatis clear; then why does he not fight? Ah, these Americans, Icompr-rehend them not!"

A furnace of indignation, he walked into the house. He passed throughhis living-room, where Melissa was scrubbing the floor and singing adoleful hymn as an encouragement to exertion, and went into hisbedroom. There, in the glass, he suddenly came upon his own face, filled with bitterness, scowling. 

He paused, shocked that this mask of hatred should be his. Abashed, heturned away from the too truthful mirror of his tell-tale features. Agurgling sound fell upon his ear, and he saw, lying contentedly uponhis bed, babbling inexplicable nothings, waving meaningless gestures, rosy, happy, a baby--Melissa's baby. 

The soldier looked down upon her solemnly. His face grew less stern andhis whole form seemed to relax. 

Glancing guiltily towards the open door of the other room, he leanedover the bed, and, turning the little head to one side with the tip ofhis forefinger, he kissed the baby's cheek just on the rosiest spot. 

VI

"I Warrant There's Vinegar and Pepper In't!"

A heavy rain was beating against the windows with intermittent burstsof fury. Dr. Morgan, sitting in front of the fire in the room in whichSydney and Bob had had their painful interview on the previous morning, heard a mandatory whoop from without. Thrusting his stockinged feetinto his slippers, and laying down the _Pickwick Papers_ with a sighfor the probability of his having to make a visit in such a storm, heopened the door. A blast of wind brought in a sheet of rain thatdampened the ashes swept from the fireplace by the sudden draught. 

"O-oh, Doctor!" came a voice from the rider on the other side of thefence. 

"Hullo! Who are you?"

"Bud Yarebrough. Ah got a letter fo' you. "

"Well, light, ye fool, and put yo' beast under the shack. "

The Doctor slammed the door and shivered back into the range of thefire's glow. 

"Come in, " he shouted, when he heard Bud's stamping feet on the porch. "Come in and warm. Who's sick, Melissa or the baby?"

Bud unwound the scarf that protected his ears, shook the water from hisjacket, and began to untie the strings that secured pieces of sackingto his feet. 

"Ne'er one. M'lissy's tol'able, 'n the baby's right smart. Doctor, Ahdon' know's Ah ever knew a baby 's was 's lively 's Sydney M'lissy. "

"Common failing o' first babies, " grunted the Doctor. 

"Now mos' babies, " pursued Bud, spreading out his scarf and the piecesof burlap to dry before the blaze, --"mos' babies ain' overlyinterestin', but Ah 'low Ah never saw a baby suck her thumb noprettier'n Sydney M'lissy!"

"Did you-all say something about a letter?"

The Doctor was torn between a desire to be hospitable and a yearning toreturn to Sam Weller. 

"Yes, Ah got a letter fo' ye. "

Bud began to hunt in the inner recesses of his apparel. 

"'N Ah 'low he cain't be well. "

"He? Who?"

The Doctor's hopes of picking up his book again, which had risen whenhe heard of the admirable physical state of Melissa and the baby, sankonce more. 

"Mr. Baron. He sho' mus' be crazy to go out in such weather's this, 'nwhat's mo', to expect me to. "

"He seemed to know the right person to apply to. "

"That's the trouble with me. Ah'm that lackin' in good sense Ah doanythin' anybody asts me to 'cos Ah'm flattered to be ast!"

"Does he say he's sick?"

"He don' say so, but he looks powerful res'-less 'n wild-like. He cameover 'bout noon 'n ast me would Ah carry you this letter. "

Here Bud's prolonged search resulted in the discovery of the letter'soutline under his sweater, and he extracted it by way of the neck ofthat elastic garment. 

"Ah said, no, Ah wa'n' no fool to go out in such weather, 'n then hecut loose 'n talked the most awful language. Ah couldn' understan' aword of hit; Ah reckon hit's his foreign words or somethin', but Ahnever heard anythin' like hit befo'. 'N then he ast me again, mahtyquiet like, wouldn' Ah take this letter to you-all fo' him, 'n Ah jus'natchelly thought Ah would!"

The boy grinned sheepishly. The Doctor nodded and ran his finger underthe flap of the envelope. 

"So you think he's sick. "

"M'lissy does. When Ah was puttin' the saddle on the mule she come outto the stable with them bits o' crocus sack fo' mah feet, 'n she saidMr. Baron'd jus' gone, 'n she 'lowed he had a fever comin' on, helooked so bad. "

Dr. Morgan was reading the letter for the second time, frowning heavilyover it. 

"What do you-all think yo'self?"

"Well, Ah don' see how he can be right to walk a mile to our house inthis weather, not needin' to, 'n to _in_-sist on mah comin' here. Isthey e'er an answer?"

The older man rose and put a log on the fire, while Bud gatheredtogether his primitive panoply and began to arm himself against theelements. 

"You tell him, Bud, that Ah'll attend to it when the mud dries afterthis rain. Ah get enough hauling round to do in the mud, withoutanything extra, " he added. 

Bud's curiosity was suffering. 

"Ain' you-all goin' to see him?"

"You tell him what Ah say. " The Doctor picked up his book with an airof dismissal. "Shut the do' tight, " he called, and then read the samepage three times over with unthinking mind, until he heard Bob's stepcoming down the stairs. 

"Bob. "

"Sir?"

The young man looked out of the window, wondering how soon the rainwould stop enough for him to go to see Sydney. 

"Read this. "

Bob took the letter. 

"The Baron, " he said, studying the small, foreign hand. 

"Read it aloud. "

Bob began obediently:

 "MY DEAR SIR, --It is now more than three weeks that you played upon me a trick most treacherous. What it was I will not relate, for it would be needless. This I do assert, and more, that when you tell me you do not know what I mean, as you told me yesterday, you say not the truth. When I demand that you give to me the satisfaction that a gentleman should offer to another under such circumstances, I feel that I am treating you with a courtesy which you do not deserve. I think a whipping would suit better your contemptibility. Still, nevertheless, I conceal my pride, and I beg that you will meet me at whatever place you may appoint, and that you will fight with me with any weapon that you may choose. 

 "My unfriended condition in this country makes it not possible that I should be accompanied by a person who shall be suitable to be my second. But I entreat that my poverty in this respect will not deter you from bringing a friend with you. 

 "I am, sir, "Yours with faithfulness, "FRIEDRICH JOHANN LUDWIG V. RITTENHEIM. "

Bob whistled, --a long sibilation of amazement, --and then laughed andlaughed again. 

"What have you-all been doing to the old fellow?"

"Ah haven't any idea. "

"He says you talked it over yesterday. "

"You hardly could say we discussed it, " said the Doctor, dryly. "Heinsisted that Ah knew the drift o' his remarks, which Ah didn't, andrung in something about a man on a white horse. "

"Who was he?"

"Blamed if Ah know. Ah begin to think, like Bud, the man's sick. Hecertainly was angry over something, and he used pretty stronglanguage. "

"Swearing?"

"No. Told me Ah lied. "

Bob whistled again. 

"That warmed you under the collar, I suspect?"

"It did wilt mah linen a trifle. However, Ah took it that, being aforeigner, he didn't know just how strong a word he was employing, soAh drove off and left him. "

"I reckon from this, " holding up the letter, "he did know, and meantjust what he said. It looks as if you'd been too lenient. You ought tohave given him a biff or two on the spot. "

"Maybe Ah had oughter. "

Morgan pulled his beard thoughtfully. 

Bob read the letter through once more. 

"Quaint English, isn't it? The idea of a regular challenge gets me. Idon't know when I've come across anything funnier. "

"The notion ain't so novel to me, but duels are scarce nowadays. TheState ain't so overly encouraging to them. Hand me down those Statutesand let me see exactly how they fix us. "

Bob took the book from the shelf against the wall, and the Doctorturned over the pages. 

"Here it is, in the Constitution. 'Article XIV. , Section 2. Penalty forfighting a duel. No person who shall hereafter fight a duel, or assistin the same as a second, or send, accept, or knowingly carry achallenge therefor, or agree to go out of the State to fight a duel, shall hold any office in this State. ' H'm, " sniffed the Doctor. "Strikes me that won't prevent a lot of people from fighting. Itdiscriminates against the would-be office-holder, but not against _me_, who wouldn't swallow an office if you put it in mah mouth. "

"Or von Rittenheim, who wouldn't know one if he saw it! Perhaps it's adelicate tribute to the desire of all North Carolinians to serve theirState. "

"What disturbs me, " said Dr. Morgan, shutting the book, "is that Ahlike the fellow, and Ah don't want to shoot him all up fo' nothing. And, as Ah said befo', Ah sho' do think the fever's coming on him. "

"What are you going to do?"

"Blest if Ah know!"

"What answer did you send?"

"Ah told Bud to tell him Ah'd attend to it when the mud dried. "

"Good. That'll give you two or three days to find out what's the matterwith him. Oh, what a joke, what a joke!"

Bob subsided into a chair, overcome with joy at the idea of his fatheras a participant in a formal duel. 

"Let me know how it comes on, won't you, sir? May I be your second?"

"No, " returned the Doctor, hunting his place in the discarded novel. "Ah'm laying off to have you governor some day, and Ah don't want tohave you disqualified this early!"

Bob grinned appreciatively, and again explored the clouds. 

"I'm going to see Sydney. May I show her this?"

Bob took his father's "H'm" for an assent, and went out to saddle hishorse. 

Von Rittenheim, sitting before the fire with _Wallenstein's Lager_ onhis knee, but with eyes bent upon the flames that burst with tinyexplosions from the logs, and with mind wandering far from thoughts ofSchiller, --von Rittenheim was waiting with what patience he couldcommand for Bud's return. 

With the falling of the wind at dusk the rain ceased. Friedrich lightedhis lamp and opened his door to look up the road, a view not commandedby his single window. 

He prepared his evening meal of coffee and bread and the batter-cakesthat he had learned to like and then to make in this land of thefrying-pan. Still Bud did not come. At eleven o'clock he went to bed, for he knew that no countryman, unless he were going for the doctor, would be abroad at that hour, with such mud under foot. 

The next day's noon brought no news of the recreant messenger, and vonRittenheim went to the Yarebroughs' cabin in search of him. 

"He ain' home, " Melissa said, in the raised voice that she felt to benecessary to the German's understanding of her English. "He's gone toshoot cotton-tails. Ah 'low Ah'll make you-all a pie, 'f ye like, " sheadded, offering this practical sympathy to the suffering that she sawwritten on his face. 

"A pie of cotton-tails! Delightful! It will give me pleasure, " said vonRittenheim, politely, with vague notions of birds floating through hisbrain. "Did he--Bud--br-ring no message for me yesterday in theafternoon?"

"No. He said the Doctor 'lowed he'd 'tend to hit--what yo' letter wasabout--when the mud dried, 'n Bud reckoned that wasn' no message, 'nhit wasn' no use goin' over to tell you jus' that. "

"When the mud dried, " repeated Friedrich. "Remarkable! Good-morning, Mrs. Yarebrough. Most remarkable!" he kept repeating to himself as hewalked home. "He is not afraid, of that I am certain. Why, then, doeshe delay? Remarkable!"

VII

In the Southern Appalachians

It was five o'clock, and a pretty girl, Katrina Wendell, was standingat one of the long windows of the drawing-room at Oakwood, looking outupon the storm. 

She had not Sydney's unusual beauty, nor had she her imperious manner, the heritage to Southern women from generations of slave-holdingancestors; but she had charm and a certain distinction, and she had thestamp with which New York seals her daughters imprinted upon every tuckand frill of her clever gown. 

"Katrina, it isn't polite to look so bored, " said her brother John, whowas amusing himself with Sydney's help by drawing caricatures of themen of the day. 

Katrina flushed. She _was_ bored, but John was a beast to mention it. She had just brought her first season to an ignominious close byfalling in love with the worst match of the year, --Tom Schuyler, handsome, irrepressible, and penniless. Mrs. Wendell promptly hadrefused her consent to the engagement, and, with equal decision andwhat Tom called "disgusting alacrity, " had sent her daughter Southunder her brother's care to accept the hospitality of Mrs. Carroll, alife-long friend. 

Under the circumstances it was not strange that the prospect from thewindow did not appeal to Katrina. 

John, on the other hand, was reaping his reward for the self-sacrificethat had made him accept the duty of escorting his sister to NorthCarolina. Unlike the martyrs of old who went unprotesting to theirdoom, he had obeyed his mother's commands in no submissive spirit. Itwas a relief to the keenness of his martyrdom to kick against thepricks, and kick he did from New York to Flora, during all such partsof the twenty-four hours as were not occupied in attending to the wantsof his admirable appetite, or in yielding to the refreshment of suchrepose as a sleeping-car can offer. Even he felt that his recompensewas undeservedly great when he found himself welcomed at the littleFlora flag-station by Sydney. He was twenty-eight, and at that age apretty girl still stands far up on the list of diversions. No, decidedly, John was not bored. 

Katrina made no answer to her brother's accusation. 

"Poor Katrina, " said Sydney, going to the window and standing besideher guest. "It is an abominable day for your first one. Just look atthat!"--she summoned John by a glance over her shoulder; "pouring! Andusually we pride ourselves on our view. "

Sheets of rain were driving across the field at the foot of the knollupon which the house stood. At times the mountains beyond were shut offentirely. Again the clouds overhead blew past, and through a leadenlight the storms in the distance could be seen, thickening under somecanopy of blackness, or ceasing as the upper mist grew thin. 

"What an advantage it gives you to have such a stretch of opencountry, " said John. "Here you can see a storm coming when it is yettwenty miles away, and make your plans accordingly; but in New York, with the horizon line on the roofs of the houses across the street, youmay be caught by a shower that was lurking over the Battery when youleft your own door. "

"I can't understand the foliage being so little advanced, " saidKatrina. "It's the last of April, and yet the leaves hardly arestarting. They aren't much ahead of the Park. "

"You expected a Florida climate, perhaps. We never cease to have winterletters from people in the North who lament their cold, and wish theywere with us on our 'rose-covered veranda in the Sunny South, ' and itmay be zero when we are reading their flights of imagination. "

"Is it really ever as cold as that?"

"Not often, but quite often enough. I've known snow as late as thetwentieth of April, and I've been to a picnic on Buzzard Mountain inJanuary. "

"We're always hearing about this wonderful climate. It sounds as if itwere remarkable chiefly for eccentricity. "

"Oh, the average temperature is very even. The summers are delightful, too, --a long warm season instead of a short hot one. Though you mayhave fires now and then, it's not cool enough to close the windows, night or day, from the first of May to the first of October, and yet itseldom goes over eighty-five. "

"It's the equilibrium between altitude and latitude, showing what itcan do, isn't it?" asked John. "The fact that we are half a mile abovethe booming waters of the deep, my dear Katrina, counterbalances thenine hundred miles that lie between us and that large and noisy city towhich I have no doubt your heart is turning fondly. "

"Here are some men on horseback, Sydney, " said Katrina, again ignoringher brother. 

The wind was dying and the rain was lessening with each fitful gust. 

"Are they cavaliers approaching the presence, or hinds of the estatecoming to crave an audience?" demanded John, who professed muchamusement at what he had seen of the semi-feudal manner of life atOakwood, and at Sydney's responsibilities with regard to the work ofthe farm and to the tenants. 

The girl peered into the gathering gloom. 

"It must be Bob Morgan. Yes, it is; and that looks like Patton McRae'sblack mare. "

"By their nags ye shall know them, " said John. "Who are these estimableyouths? I look upon them with the eye of jealousy. "

"Bob Morgan? Oh, he's Dr. Morgan's son. You passed his house near thepost-office. And the McRaes live at Cotswold; there's a big family ofthem. Will you ring for tea, Mr. Wendell?"

"I fly to do your bidding, even though it be to succor my rivals, forsuch I feel they are, " and he slapped his chest melodramatically. 

Much stamping of feet and shaking of garments heralded the announcementof the two young men by Uncle Jimmy, the old colored butler. 

"How good of you both to come in this weather, " said Sydney, flashing agreeting at each one in turn. "You are just in time to prevent MissWendell from being bored to death. "

"Delighted to prevent your demise, " said Patton, promptly, and attachedhimself at once to Katrina's following. 

"Uncle Jimmy, " said Sydney to the old man who was poking the fire withan assiduity born of a desire to stay in the room as long as possible, "tell Mrs. Carroll that tea is just coming in, and that Mr. Bob and Mr. Patton are here. "

"See what you've brought us, Mr. McRae, " Katrina was saying, as a rayof sunshine broke the twilight darkness. 

The mountains stood a deep and penetrable blue against a golden breakbehind the Balsams. Fierce black clouds hurried across the upper sky, dragging after them ragged ends of mist, and beneath this roofing thesetting sun aimed its luminous shafts across the _rest_ made byPisgah's rugged peak. 

No one broke the spell of beauty by a word, but Wendell saw a glancepass between Sydney and Bob, --the look of sympathy sure of its fellow. 

The sound of Mrs. Carroll's cane brought them all to their feet. Sheentered, tiny, autocratic, keen, leaning upon Uncle Jimmy's faithfularm. 

"Good afternoon, Bob. Good afternoon, Patton. You are doubly welcome onthis stormy day. Put my chair a little more to the side of thefireplace, Bob. Yes, Patton, the footstool, if you please. You may go, James. John, the hook for my cane is on the left of the mantel-piece. Katrina, tell Sydney to put a shade less cream in my tea than she didyesterday. No cake, thank you, John, but a rusk, --yes, a rusk appealsto me. Bob, what wild thing did you do on that horse of yours on yourway here?"

"Not a thing, Mrs. Carroll. He came along like a Shetland pony. GrayEagle doesn't like rain. It depresses him. "

"Patton is riding the black mare to-day, grandmother, " called Sydneyfrom behind her tea equipage. 

The old lady raised her eyes in comical despair and shook her headmournfully. 

"You certainly have courage, my dear child. "

"Only the courage of a Cotswold lion, I'm afraid. But you mustn't bedistressed about her, she's really beginning to do Sydney credit. "

"You see, Mr. Wendell, Black Monday was raised on the place here, andshe's been the hardest colt to break of any we ever had. Patton ownsher now, but I feel a personal responsibility for her because he tookher out of my hands before she was thoroughly quiet. "

"I see, " nodded John, gravely, in accord with Sydney's seriousness. "You fear some burst of girlish exuberance. "

"Did you see her roll in her saddle just as we were coming out ofchurch Sunday?" asked Patton, turning eagerly to Sydney. 

"How do you dare to use such half-broken creatures?" cried Katrina. 

"My dear, " said Mrs. Carroll, "when you've been with us a little whileyou'll realize how close we are to primitive conditions. To-day youbreak the horse you mean to ride next week. To-morrow you kill thesteer or the pig or the chickens that were your pets to-day. "

"I suppose it must be so always in the country, but you can't be veryprimitive here with a large town near by and a railroad. "

"In reality we are only as far from the Asheville Court House as thepeople on the upper boundary of the Bronx are from Castle Garden; butin point of convenience, owing to the scarcity of trains and their poorarrangement, we are almost as near to Washington. "

"Still, the railroad has opened the country and given the farmers newmarkets, " asserted John. 

"Undoubtedly; but that is not an unmixed good, in my opinion, " saidMrs. Carroll, stoutly. "They sell more cabbages and apples, but theybuy cheap fabrics and ready-made clothing in place of the stouthomespun that the women used to weave. "

"You'd be surprised, " said Patton, "to know how little the countrypeople use the railroad. There was an example of it day beforeyesterday. A man from McDowell's Creek, about six miles from Flora, took his first train-ride since the road was put through, fifteen yearsago. "

"How extraordinary that seems! It was the day of his life, I suppose. "Katrina's eyes were large with amazement. 

"In a way it was, " said Bob, dryly, "for in Asheville he celebrated hisadventures not wisely, but too well, and on the way out he fell fromthe platform and was killed. "

"Bob, how can you be so flippant?" objected Sydney to the crestfallenyoung man. "It seems a terrible end. "

"All sudden deaths seem terrible to us who are left behind, " said Mrs. Carroll; "but even such an ending does not give us the shock that itwould if we did not live in a community accustomed to the accidentsconsequent upon every man's carrying a revolver. It's a bad habit. Ihope you boys don't do it. "

"No, indeed, Mrs. Carroll, " they both replied, with suspiciouspromptness, and they sat up very straight, so that the backs of theircoats presented an unbroken line. 

John smiled at them. 

"Are they often used?" he asked. 

"Quite too often, " answered Sydney, gravely. "As grandmother says, wedo, indeed, live close to nature. If a man is angry with his neighbor, he calls him to his door on some moonless night and shoots him. "

"In primitive society the primitive wants of man are satisfied inprimitive ways, " remarked Bob. 

"Moses ought to have put the Ten Commandments on something strongerthan stone if he meant them to be unbroken, " added Patton. 

Mrs. Carroll shook her head at him. 

"I don't see how you can be so very primitive, " insisted Katrina. "Nowthis----" She glanced expressively about the room, where old portraitssurmounted the dark panelling and heavy rugs glowed warmly in thefirelight. 

"Oh, we are as composite in our mountains as are the people of anyother part of these composite United States, " said Sydney. "Themountaineers themselves are a mixture. There are men in coves distantfrom the railroad who are living on land to which their ancestors droveup their cattle from the low country three or four generations ago. These men are a law unto themselves. They have no opportunities foreducating their children, and once in a while you hear of a family thatnever has heard the name of God. "

"My great-grandfather came here in the early eighteen hundreds, " saidBob, "and a queer lot he must have found. They say that there was acrop of younger sons of good English families which had been plantedhere as a good country for the culture of wild oats. "

"I suppose that in the eighteenth century this was as remote a place asany to lose black sheep in, if losing was their desire, " suggestedJohn. 

"It's quite true, quite true, what Bob says, " Mrs. Carroll took up theexplanation. "Mr. Carroll used to tell me that he knew it to be a factthat Bud Yarebrough's father--Bud is a ne'er-do-weel who lives in acove not many miles from here, Katrina, my dear--was a great-grandsonof one of the Dukes of Calverley. "

"Then Melissa's baby is the Lady Sydney Melissa Something-or-other!"laughed Sydney. 

"There's a legend of a penal colony, too, " said Patton. 

"That is disputed, " replied Mrs. Carroll. 

"If there was one, Pink Pressley is of its lineage, I am sure, " saidSydney. 

"If heredity counts for anything, I should think that a colony of blacksheep whose diet had been wild oats would account for all thelawlessness of the community, " offered John. 

"For a great deal of it, undoubtedly, and their life of freedom fromrestraint for so many years would be responsible for more. "

"But these people are not close about you here, " exclaimed Katrina. 

"Indeed, they are. They are our neighbors and our friends. Why, there'sa tenant on our place who has been tried twice for murder. "

"Bob and I found a deserted still in the woods over the creek the otherday, " said Sydney. "That suggests another of our friends' occupations. "

"But your influence must be at work among them constantly. "

"We hope it is, and that is why we lay stress upon the compositeness ofour settlement, " said Mrs. Carroll. "There are the country people we'vebeen telling you about, and there's a group of what we callNeighborhood people, for distinction's sake. The Delaunays at the Cliffwere originally from New Orleans, and the Hugers were from Charleston, and we came from Virginia. Before the war we used to come over themountains every summer in carriages to take refuge from the heat of thelowlands, and after the war we were glad to live here permanently. "

"It was post-bellum poverty that drove us here from theScotch-Presbyterian settlements in the middle of the State, " saidPatton. "We're another element. "

"And is there really fusion going on as there is in other parts of thecountry?" asked Katrina. 

"My people have assimilated with the peasantry, as I suppose Mrs. Carroll calls them, ever since they came, " said Bob. 

"This settlement must be unique, " said John. 

"No. I know of two not very far from here, and I've heard of others. The more fortunate people consider themselves as closely allied to thecountry as do the mountaineers. We are integral parts, and we insist onbeing so considered. "

"We aren't a wholly bad lot, we mountaineers, " said Bob. "I speak as ofthe soil, you see. Too much whisky and tobacco and hog-meat havedeprived us of physical beauty, and we are sadly lacking in moralstrength, but the life of freedom and lawlessness developed goodtraits, too. We don't lie, --that is, about important things, " he added, hastily, putting his hand under his coat; "and we don't steal, and weare loyal to our friends. "

"Especially when the minions of the law are after them, " grinnedPatton. 

"Ah, you've betrayed yourselves, " cried Sydney. "I know it was you twoboys who hid Pink Pressley when the revenue men were chasing him thelast time. "

"The last time?" John asked the question. 

"Oh, Pink used to be a chronic moonshiner. He seems to be a reformedpirate now, " said Patton. "He must be in love. "

"Whisky is the curse of this country, " said Mrs. Carroll, vehemently, while Bob gazed into the fire and Sydney played with the sugar-tongs. "You can't deny lying, Bob, when the moonshiners are lying to therevenue men every day, and their friends are lying in their behalf; andyou can't say they don't steal, when they are defrauding the governmentwith every quart of blockade they sell. The mountaineers may be loyalto their friends, but it is to conceal crime. "

"Illicit stilling seems to be regarded like smuggling, " said John. "Thegovernment is fair game. "

"Whisky stunts the growth of children, and blunts the morals of youth, and makes murderers of men, " went on the old lady, disregarding John'sinterruption, and sitting with expressive straightness. A silence fellupon the group that John and Katrina felt to be painful withoutunderstanding why. Patton and Sydney were burning with sympathy forBob. It was Patton who broke the quiet. 

"And they drink it from a dipper!"

The ensuing laughter snapped the strain of embarrassment. 

"We have another class of people that we haven't described to Katrina, "said Sidney. "The resident foreigners. "

"Like Baron von Rittenheim, " said Bob, absently, staring at the fire. 

"Another title! How in the world did he come here?" asked Katrina. 

"Oh, he's one of the footballs of Fate, " said Patton. 

"Usually they're English, --the footballs, " said Bob. "They come here tomend either health or fortune, stay a few years, and go away. "

"Mended?"

"Yes, in health, if they--stop drinking. " Bob brought it out with ajerk. "This climate's great, you know. "

"But not with improved finances?"

"Yes, that too. It's a fine place for economy. "

"For what purpose did this German come?" asked Katrina. 

"He's one of the mysteries, " said Patton, rising to take his leave. 

Bob called Sydney from the drawing-room into the hall, and handed her aletter. 

"Father got it this afternoon, " he said. "It's awfully funny. "

Sydney took it from its envelope. Bob, bending to buckle on his spurs, did not see her flush at the signature and then grow pale as she read. 

"Bob, " she whispered, hoarsely, "promise me, --promise that you'll letme know--if they do it--when it's going to be. "

And Bob, who had no thought but to amuse her, said, heartily, "Why, ofcourse. "

Had von Rittenheim, sitting before his fire awaiting Bud's return, beenable to see into the minds of his neighbors, he would have found mattermore productive of mental confusion than were English irregular verbsto him. 

That Dr. Morgan, after receiving a challenge, could settle back to theperusal of the _Pickwick Papers_ as placidly as if he had attended tothe last minute detail of the conventions attendant upon that processcalled "giving satisfaction, " was a thing that his traditions, hiseducation, and his environment had put it out of his power tounderstand. 

That Bob could regard the incident as a joke was even farther from hisgrasp. An indifference caused by a lack of fear, --that was within hisrange. But that this method of wiping out an insult should be regardedas funny, --of such an emotion under such circumstances he could notconceive. 

Sydney's feeling, could he have known it, was closer to hiscomprehension, because it is not beyond man's imagination to guess, approximately, the frame of mind into which a woman would be thrownupon hearing of such a prospective meeting. What he could not see wasthe importance that his own part played in the girl's fear. 

The thing seemed to her barbaric, mediæval, horrible. She shook tothink of harm that might come to her good old friend, the Doctor. Shebecame an abject coward when she remembered that the old man was notedthroughout the mountains as a perfect shot. 

She could not understand herself. She had not had this feeling at allwhen Ben Frady had cleared the open space before the post-office of allloafers, and she unwittingly had ridden on to the scene, and, graspingthe situation, had demanded his revolver from him and had received it. 

Not until afterwards had she had any such sensations as this, when amessage had come to the house that the negroes on the farm were cuttingeach other, and she had walked in upon them and had ordered them toseparate. 

Bob had told her that he didn't know what it was all about, and theuncertainty made the situation only more disquieting. Like mostSouthern women, it did not occur to her to interfere before the eventin any affair that was men's own; but she began to formulate a planthat depended for its success upon Bob's keeping her informed as to thecourse pursued by his father. Could she depend on him? Her anxiety wascruel. 

VIII

Sydney Rides against Time

Three days later Bud brought to von Rittenheim the following note:

 "DEAR BARON, --I say again that I haven't any idea what you are driving at, but I never yet went back on a fight, so if you still want one I'll meet you at twelve o'clock to-morrow on top of Buck Mountain. I think you went to a picnic there when the chestnuts were ripe last fall, so you know the place. I'll take the weapons along with me, and you can examine them when you get there. I don't want any second. 

 "Yours truly, "HENRY MORGAN. "

Von Rittenheim puzzled over the English of this document, and noddedhis head in satisfaction. 

"At last he performs his duty. Buck Mountain I know. It is a distantspot, ten miles from here. He is strange not to say what are theweapons; but what can you expect?"

With a shrug derogating the social experience of his adopted land, heproceeded to negotiate with Bud for the use of his mule on the nextday. 

It was nearly eleven o'clock on the following morning when Bob Morgandrew rein before the Carrolls' door, and asked to see Sydney. 

"Beg her to come to the door just a moment, Uncle Jimmy. No, I'll notsend the horse around. And she'll want Johnny saddled at once. Sendword to the stable, please. "

When she appeared he ran up the steps as far as his bridle would allow, and spoke in a low voice, with a glance at the windows. 

"It's this morning, Sydney, at twelve. Will you come? Father didn'ttell me about it until just as he was leaving the house, and he said hedidn't want me, but I'd promised you, and we'll be in time if we hurry, I've ordered Johnny. "

The girl clutched her throat with a feeling that every bit of strengthwas leaving her body. Bob, buckling his curb rein, saw nothing. Hisonly thought was to give her some sport. A fight, more or less, countedbut little with him personally; and he did not think that this oneactually would take place, else he would not have considered taking agirl to it. 

Sydney spared a thought of wonder at Bob's nonchalance, but as swiftlyreflected that perhaps men always were cool in such emergencies. To herit meant murder, --the crime of life destroyed. And whose life? Perhapsthat of her dear old friend. Perhaps----!

The blood surged back to her brain and she mastered herself. 

"We have so little time, " she panted. "I'll be ready in a minute. "

Before the horse was at the mounting-block she was awaiting him, buttoning her gloves, while she extended her foot for Bob to buckle herspur. She had put on her riding-skirt, but otherwise was as she hadcome to the door. 

"Don't you-all want a coat, Sydney?" asked Bob, solicitously. "Or ahat?"

"No, I'm quite warm. Where is that boy? Hurry, Clint, " she called tothe little negro, who was bringing the horse around with a slownessborn of his enjoyment of the brief ride. 

"Off with you, quick, now, boy!" It was Bob, who was catching thegirl's impatience. "Here, take Gray Eagle. "

He flung his bridle to the lad, and threw Sydney into the saddle asquickly as she could wish. She adjusted herself carefully, for she knewhow the discomfort of a twisted skirt may make a difference of a minutein the mile, or may mean real danger at a jump. 

"There's no time to lose, it's five minutes past eleven now, " she said, glancing at a strap watch on her wrist, and touching Johnny with herspur. 

Bob's horse was off in pursuit before his master was well on his back. 

"I declare, she might have given me a fairer start!" he growled, as thesorrel settled down ahead of him into a run that bade fair to keep eventhe advantage. They had had many a race, Bob and Sydney, and usually itwas the girl who was the more cautious rider of the two. To-day, however, she took risks that amazed even her old-time playmate, whothought he knew her every mood. 

By the long driveway and the road it was two miles to the Doctor'shouse, and five from there to the foot of Buck Mountain. By a cutacross the sheep-pasture the first part of the way could be reducednearly a mile. 

"She certainly is keen for the fun, " thought Bob, as he saw Sydney turnfrom the avenue and drive Johnny at a gate which he knew that she didnot care often to take. 

"Too high for Johnny. I must tell her not to do that again, " hecommented, as he noticed during his own flight that the top rail wassplit from contact with the first horse's heels. 

[Illustration: A fence at the top of a sharp ascent]

Down the hill and across the field tore the sorrel, leaping the branch, and slackening to allow the gray's approach only when he came to afence whose position at the top of a sharp ascent forbade his takingit. 

Sydney looked back impatiently as Bob covered the dozen lengths betweenthem and swung off to open the gate. 

"You might wait for a fellow, " he grumbled, but already the girl wasthrough, and her white blouse and ruddy hair shone half-way across theunenclosed meadow upon which she had entered. For the first time herpale face impressed Bob. 

"Looks like she saw something, " he thought, with a remnant of oldsuperstition. "I do believe she thinks there's going to be bloodshed. "And with a view to reassuring her, he caught up with her in the paththrough the belt of woods that led from the field to the road. Theirhorses were nose on tail, and of necessity going slowly. 

"Sydney!" he cried, "O-oh, Sydney! You don't think it's serious, doyou? Because----"

Here the path debouched into the open road, and Johnny was off againbefore Bob could finish, and his question, meant to inspirit Sydney, had sounded to her only like a desire for his own reassurance, and hadalarmed her more than ever. 

A mad feeling within pricked her to tear on without slackening. Shefelt that she could have galloped to the very top of the mountainwithout fatigue. Her horsewoman's intelligence, however, warned her tothink of her animal, and she took him along quietly through the openplace before the post-office, giving Bob a chance to catch up. 

He was thoroughly out of temper now. Never before had Sydney been socareless of him. He couldn't understand it; but he was beginning torealize that she was taking the adventure seriously, and, with boyishmalice, he resolved to make no further effort to undeceive her. 

Indeed, as they rode on slowly and silently, side by side, for a fewhundred yards, he became not so sure himself that the duel was the jokethat he had considered it. 

He knew his father to be a man ready in his own defence, and of a high, though controlled temper; and he had not overlooked the fact that thestocks of two guns were protruding from the holster that projected fromunder the skirt of the Doctor's McClellan. Furthermore, he knew thatthe German was in deadly earnest. 

As these suspicions assailed him, he turned to Sydney and touched thespur to his gray. The girl responded to his look, and they set into thesteady gallop that covers much country with but little effort either tohorse or rider. 

Sydney held out her watch for Bob to see. It was quarter past eleven. Nearly five miles lay before them to the foot of the mountain, and tothe summit there was a long, steep mile and a half which was thetime-consumer to be reckoned with. 

A mile beyond the post-office they turned from the State Road into aless-travelled, and hence rougher, side road. Through a stretch ofsandy mud they breathed the horses again, and then on, on, on to thebig hill whose vast bulk was beginning to tower mightily before them. Past the old school-house they dashed, without a glance for its forlornstate of decay; past one of the farm gates of the Cotswold estate; pastthe Baptist Bethel, indistinguishable from a school-house except forthe white stones in the graveyard, upon which the sun glintedcheerfully. 

Quarter after quarter they left behind them, slowing up only for steepdescents or for patches of lengthwise road-mending whose upthrustbranch ends are liable to snag a horse's legs. Johnny and Gray Eagletook in their stride the brooks that babbled gayly across the way; theyshied at a glare of mica on the red clay of the bank; they dodged ruts, and leaped mud-holes, and pushed for the middle of the road. 

At the end of the third mile Sydney asked, not lifting her eyes fromthe ground before her, "Is the bridle-path open?" It was the first timeshe had spoken since they left Oakwood. 

"I don't know. It may be washed. We'd better keep to the sled-track. "

"It's half a mile longer. "

"But the other might delay us more. "

Sydney did not urge the point, but looked at her watch as they reachedthe opening where the ascent began. 

It was twenty minutes of twelve. 

Without a word she held out her hand to Bob. She felt sick and faint, and her companion's whistle was not reassuring. 

"They'll probably be late, " he suggested, but he remembered as he saidit that his father had left home for the meeting-place before he hadstarted to take the news to Sydney. 

The trail began in a steep acclivity that soon brought the horses to awalk. When it was surmounted the beasts needs must blow, though theypressed on willingly enough at a half-minute's end. A fairly level bitfollowed along the ridge of the foot-hill they just had climbed. It wasnot wide enough for them to travel abreast, and Johnny led with a sharptrot that made clever avoidance of the stones and roots and stumps thatsprang into sight before him as at the summons of a malignant spirit. 

The next upward stretch was over a ledge of rock from which thewinter's rains had washed the soil. A trickling spring kept its surfaceconstantly wet, and its slippery face brought Johnny to his knees. 

Sydney uttered a cry which ordinarily would have been one of pity forher favorite's pain. Now it was a note of fear lest the fall might meandelay. But the brave sorrel heaved himself up, and turned across thepath to pant after the exertion. 

"Are you all right, Sydney?" came Bob's anxious cry from below, whencehe had seen the accident. 

"It was nothing, " she called. "Come, Johnny, poor old man!"

She patted his lowered neck, and he bent his hoofs to catch histoe-calks in the cracks of the rock. 

Another fleeting pause at the top rewarded his endeavor, and then acouple of hundred yards of hardly perceptible upward incline producedagain the swift and ready trot. 

Five minutes more of easy climbing brought into view the tobacco barnwhich was one of the mountain's landmarks. Beyond it the grade becamemuch more abrupt, and although it was worn fairly smooth by the sledsof the men who planted aërial cornfields far up on the highestclearings, yet its steepness rendered this last half-mile the trulyformidable part of the ascent. 

Johnny glanced up it with regretful eye, stopped an instant, took along breath, shook himself, and went bravely to his task. 

Sydney's every thought was a passionate longing to press on, --to hurry, to rush, to fly. Her lips grew white when she saw that the hands of herwatch pointed to four minutes of twelve. 

"It is not possible to be in time, " she agonized. "O God, delay them! OGod, stop them!"

She bent forward over the horse's withers, and stretched upward, as ifto pull him higher by her buoyancy. She was heedless of the stream thatgurgled beside the trail among the evergreen sword-fern--a noisybetrayer of the mountain's angle. She did not observe that she wasalone, that Bob was not following her. She was deaf to his cries as hestruggled below with the gray, which was plunging against an attack ofyellow jackets, and refused to take the trail. 

Johnny stopped, his sides heaving pitiably. 

"Oh, can I bear it? Oh, go on; do go on! O God, give me strength towait. "

Though she tore off her gloves in nervous impatience, still she leftthe rein upon the horse's neck, for she knew that the willing beast wasdoing his best. 

He stopped again, and still once more, before they came to the foot ofthe bald, whose slippery, dead grass added another peril to the climb. The trail ended here, for it was not needed where a sled could goanywhere over the clearing. 

"Come, dear boy. Come, dear old horse, " she urged. "Five minutes morewill take us there. "

The watch's cruel face told the hour to be twelve minutes past twelve, but Sydney did not feel so keen a pang as when she looked last, although it was later than the fatal hour. The continued silence gaveher confidence. Only the bay of a hound in some cove below, and theyelp of a puppy, reached her. 

She was dully dogged. The horse stumbled and scrambled on. 

"We can't do better than our best, Johnny. May God keep them! Oh, Johnny! My dear, faithful Johnny, don't fall! Get up--_get up_!" shecried. 

As he settled on to his side to roll up on to his feet again, --aprocess that his labored breathing and the weight of his rider madedifficult on the sharp incline, --she slipped from his back andstruggled on on foot. 

She was near the crest of the mountain, --the bunch of chestnut-trees onthe summit showed their swelling buds against the sky just over herhead, --yet how slow was her advance! The sedge-grass caught her feet;the blackberry-vines tore at her skirt; a rolling pebble threw her downupon her hands. 

In an instant she was up and on again, --she was at the summit at last!And there, just below the crest on the other side, facing each other ontheir animals, like knights of old, were the two men she sought. 

IX

"It Needed Only This!"

Trembling she stood, looking down upon the foes below her. Her handswere knotted against her breast, that heaved with nature's cry at hercruelty. The thumping of her heart shook her body mercilessly. Theanguish of her soul dried her throat, and filled her eyes with dread, and made her an embodiment of horror. Yet a stir of gratitude foughtwith fear for a place in her. 

"Thank God, I am not too late!" was her voiceless cry. 

Through the clear air came the sound of a voice, sharply articulate. 

"It is not enough that you eat my bread and go forth from my door to doyour treacherous act. You come again to my house to scorn at me aftermy humiliation, and you have not the courage to own your falseness. Andnow, when I demand from you the satisfaction that most surely do youowe me, how do you make a mock at me? Is that a weapon with whichgentlemen do fight? Is it a shot-gun that men do carry to a duel?"

The hitherto still figure on the Doctor's horse stirred uneasily. 

"And see, I break it. " The mule turned back his ears, as upon them fellthe click of the opening gun, followed by the drop of a shell into anopen palm. "_Ach_, yes, I thought so! It needed only this! This sosmall shot is for the birds!"

A thud vibrated on the air--the sound of the flung-down weapon. 

"Now, if you-all were only an American, Ah could make you understandright quick that----"

The Doctor's slow drawl was broken by an exclamation from vonRittenheim. Morgan followed the German's eyes, and saw above themagainst the fleckless blue of the heavens the brilliant figure of thegirl, her hands straining against her breast, her face a field whereanxiety and grief flitted like clouds across the background of the sky. 

She came down towards them when she saw herself observed, and the twomen silently dismounted as she approached, and pulled off their caps, less in salutation than from instinctive respect for deep emotion. 

It was a poor little appeal she made, as words went. Her voice washardly whisper-high, so labored was her breathing. She held out herhands to them one after the other, in supplication. 

"You won't do it! Oh, please don't! I came---- You mustn't----" Herbreath came in gasps. 

Von Rittenheim mutely took the pleading hands in his, and reverentlykissed them. He faced the Doctor brokenly. 

"I thought you had heaped upon me every humiliation. Until now this waslacking. You might have spared me this!"

Mounting his mule he broke into the thicket and disappeared. 

The two left behind--the tawny, stooping Carolinian and the girl, gonewhite-lipped in spite of the beating of her heart--stared in silence atthe copse as long as they could hear the crash of the breaking twigsand resisting branches. 

Sydney still was intent on the lessening sounds when the old man's keenblue eyes withdrew themselves from the wood and scrutinized her face, pitiably drawn and colorless. 

"H'm, " he grunted, and added, mentally, "Hard lines for Bob. "

The sound of his ejaculation reached the girl's dulled ears. She turnedto him with a touch of distrust, and yet a look of question that seemedto implore her old friend for an explanation that might save him to heras an honest man. The Doctor was touched by it. He nodded in thedirection in which the Baron had disappeared. 

"Crazy, plumb crazy, " he averred. 

Sydney's dry lips formed a soundless "Why?"

"He's got some notion in his head that Ah've done him an injury--youheard him?"

She nodded. 

"Ah swear to you, Sydney, Ah haven't any idea what he means, but heharps on it, and he sent me a challenge, as Ah suppose you know, or youwouldn't be here. "

"Yes. Bob brought me. "

"Ah bluffed him off fo' three days. Ah hoped Ah might think ofsomething that would get him out of that vein without hurting hisforeign feelings, but Ah couldn't think of anything, so Ah 'lowed topretend to play up to his game, and in some way turn it into a joke. "

"The bird-shot was the joke?"

The Doctor colored dimly under his tan. 

"Well, Ah must confess that it seemed to me mo' humorous when Ah wasloading up the guns at home than when the Baron was discoursing aboutit. "

"I should think so. I should think----"

Sydney bit her sentence in two. She felt too uncontrolled to allowherself to comment upon the Doctor's conduct. 

"Ah certainly believe he's crazy or going to have a fever, and Ah'llfind some way of watching him. Ah suppose he won't let me on his placenow; Ah'll have to see Bud. Where's yo' horse?" he asked, suddenly. 

Sydney pressed her hand to her head confusedly. 

"I don't know. Back there somewhere. "

"Come, we must hunt him. You seem tired to death, child. Did you ridehard?"

"It was about an hour and ten minutes to the foot of the bald. "

She was dragging herself wearily up to the chestnut-trees. 

"An hour and ten minutes to the foot of the bald? From where?"

"From home. "

"From Oakwood? Holy Smoke! What did Bob let you do such a fool thingfo'?" he ejaculated, angrily. "Where is Bob, anyway?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since--I think it was--I don't knowwhere it was, " she ended, weakly, and with distress. 

The Doctor looked at her keenly. 

"Here, never mind him; he can take care of himself well enough; betterthan he can of you, by the looks of it. Sit down, now; yes, right hereon the grass, and drink this. "

He gave her a draught from his flask, standing over her threateninglywhen she hesitated at the entire contents of the cup cover. 

"Take it all, " he insisted, "every drop. It's the only thing on earththat's health to its enemies and death to its friends. "

Sydney leaned back wearily against a jutting rock and closed her eyes. Her head swam, and she resigned herself to the Doctor's commands withthe blessed feeling of relief that a woman has when responsibilityfalls from her own upon some man's shoulders. 

A whoop from the chestnuts made her open her eyes. 

"Is it Bob?"

"Yes, leading Johnny. " Doctor Morgan raised his voice. "Come down here. You're a pretty feller to carry a girl to ride, " he continued, as Bobtied the horse to one of the chestnuts and sprang down the slope. "Nogirl in my time ever shook me like that. Where did she lose you?"

Bob answered nothing to his father's gibes, but bent anxiously overSydney. 

"You are not hurt, de--Sydney? Just awfully done up? I ought not tohave let you come. It's been too hard a ride. It's all my fault, " hewent on, accusingly, while the Doctor nodded his head in agreement, andSydney tried in vain to interrupt. 

"No, indeed, Bob, you were not to blame at all. I made you promise, andI couldn't have forgiven you or myself if I hadn't been here when----"

She fell back against the rock, and the Doctor broke in, by way ofdiversion, --

"Where's Gray Eagle?"

"Down at the tobacco barn. He got wild and balked the steep part of thetrail, so I tied him to a tree and left him to kick it out. "

"You walked up, then?"

"Yes, and found Johnny gluttonously eating blackberry-vines on theother side of the bald. That scared me to death, for I thought he'dmade way with Sydney in some mysterious fashion, --perhaps eatenher, --and was indulging in dessert! Where's your enemy?"

The Doctor glanced quickly at Sydney, and frowned at Bob. 

"Gone home, " was all he would say. 

They lifted the girl on to her horse, and Bob guided him down to thevery foot of the mountain. At the tobacco barn the Doctor untied GrayEagle, subdued by his enforced loneliness, and led him behind them. 

"Bob will stay to luncheon at Oakwood, it's so late, " said Sydney tohim as they parted at his gate. "You'll not forget to find out in someway if the Baron is ill, will you?"

"No, my dear, I'll watch him like the Pinkertons' eye that neversleeps, " returned the old man, genially. 

"Mrs. Carroll has gone into the dining-room, " the servant told them atthe door, and Sydney assumed much cheerfulness as she made herapologies. 

"I've brought Bob, grandmother. He's been all over everywhere with methis morning. You'll forgive me, Katrina, for leaving you, won't you?Where's Mr. Wendell?"

"Not back from Asheville yet. "

"He went in yesterday, " explained Mrs. Carroll to Bob. "I suppose thetrain is late. It does seem as if they grow more and more uncertain, and when there are only two a day each way, it certainly is annoying, very. You wouldn't know what to make of so meagre an arrangement, wouldyou, Katrina dear?"

"There's the carriage now, " said Bob. "The train couldn't have beenmuch over an hour behind time; surely you wouldn't complain of that. "

"I feel as if I had been journeying for days, " said John, sitting down, "and had seen the sights of far-distant worlds. "

"It's the obelisk in Court Square that makes you think that, " suggestedSydney. 

"Or the battlements on the library building, " added Bob. 

"Are there street-cars?" asked Katrina. 

"Street-cars? Why, child, there are street-cars to burn--electric ones, too. I felt grievously defrauded. I wanted a mule tram. "

"The mule is an unfashionable animal, " said Mrs. Carroll. "Time waswhen a handsome pair of mules was considered not unsuitable to draw agentleman's carriage. "

"The farmers aren't using them so much, either, " said Bob. "They're toounreliable. Horses are cheaper, too. "

"I saw some very decent saddle-horses in town--of their kind. "

"What's their kind?"

"Long-tailed single-footers, Katrina. "

"The easiest gait in the world, " put in Bob, combatively, disregardingthe tails. 

"It looks so. And not a Derby hat in the whole place except mine. "

"And not a silk one, except on colored coachmen, " added Sydney, maliciously. 

"Did you drive about?"

"I saw all the sights, dear Mrs. Carroll. I have done to a brown theVanderbilt place, the Sunset Drive, and the junction of the Swannanoaand the French Broad. I flogged a rebellious horse to Gold View, and Iscaled Beaumont and looked down into Chunn's Cove. I gazed at the--youwill excuse me, I hope--faded exterior of a tobacco warehouse----"

"The farmers don't grow much now, " interpolated Bob. 

"So I was told. And I beheld with rapture the architecture of theFederal Building. That's the fullest beehive for its size, isn't it?Post-office, revenue office, --goodness knows what's in it!"

"Is the United States Court on yet?" asked Bob. 

"Not being a victim, I don't know. "

"You don't have to be a victim to find that out. The whole town isfilled with the rural population who are interested in the liquorcases, --and our rural population is unmistakable. "

"If that's the sign, then it isn't on, for only about half the townlooked egregiously rural. Now I think of it, though, the court is goingto sit day after to-morrow. "

"Of course. It's the first Monday in May, isn't it?"

"Please ask me how I knew it. Thank you, Mrs. Carroll. I see that youare about to oblige me. Know then, good people, that this humble wormthat you see before you has had the honor of occupying the same seat inthe train with a minion of the law, --in fact, a revenue officer. "

"Coming out to-day?"

"Yes. And, furthermore, he paid the flag-station of Flora thedistinguished attention of getting out there. "

"Was he after somebody?"

"He was about to jog the memories of several people, and I think you'llbe surprised to know who one of them is. Mrs. Carroll, how can youexpect the less fortunate part of your community to keep in thestraight and narrow way, when the aristocracy--yea, verily, thenobility--sets it so bad an example?"

"What do you mean, John?"

"I'm going to write a tale to be called 'The Titled Moonshiner; or, TheBaron's Quart of Corn. '"

Sydney and Bob looked at each other with dawning comprehension, yetwithout the ability entirely to clear away the fog. 

"John, are you hinting any slur against Baron von Rittenheim, ourneighbor and good friend?" The old lady was radiating dignity andindignation. 

"I'm not hinting a thing, my dear Mrs. Carroll. I'm telling you whatthe affable revenue man told me. About a month ago, it seems, yourfriend and neighbor entertained a guest who proved to be, not an angelin disguise, but a deputy-marshal on his way to Asheville. Not knowingthe official position of his visitor, von Rittenheim sold him a quartof whisky of his own vintage. Whereupon, like all other chilled vipersthat have been warmed by this or other means, even from the far days offable, the beast retaliated. He returned the next day and arrestedhim. "

Mrs. Carroll and Katrina cried out in surprise and indignation. Bob'seyes were fixed upon Sydney, and she, ghastly white, was crumbling herbread into bits. 

"The next day? Why, that is why he didn't come here for so long, Sydney!"

"He's under bond to appear at the next sitting of the United StatesCourt, and, as that comes in on Monday, you understand the appearanceof my friend the enemy on the train. "

"Poor fellow!" murmured Katrina. 

"Why in the world should the Baron sell any whisky, I should like tohave some one tell me, " demanded Mrs. Carroll. "And why didn't we seeit in the paper?"

"Probably the name was put in incorrectly, " Bob suggested. "TheAsheville reporters aren't accustomed to German. "

Sydney was silent. But upon Bob, for his father's sake, she laidaccusing eyes, for she thought she had a clue to the words that hadcome to her ears through the clear air as she stood upon the top ofBuck Mountain. 

X

Through the Mist

One day in the autumn, a few weeks after he had bought Ben Frady'sfarm, von Rittenheim had taken his gun, and had whistled to heel one ofthe hounds that had preferred to stay in his old home with an unknownmaster rather than endure the precarious temper of the known quantity, and had climbed Buzzard, the mountain behind his cabin, in search ofsquirrel or quail. 

As the day advanced, fleecy clouds gathered over the sky and obscuredthe sun, and then thickened and turned leaden. Suddenly, as thehuntsman tramped across a clearing, a one-time cornfield high on theside of the mountain, he saw a mass of fog rolling towards him, andbefore he could descend below its level he found himself enveloped inthe mist of a passing cloud. Heavy as a palpable thing it closed aroundhim, impenetrable to the eye, chilling to the whole physical being, fraught with discouragement and depression to the mind. 

Friedrich tried to regain a path that he remembered to have crossed afew minutes before, but under the trees the gloom was too dense forprofitable search. Moisture began to collect upon the leaf tips and todrip upon him. The dog did not answer to his whistle. There were nopoints of the compass; there was no view of the valley below. He waslike a ship rudderless. He only knew of a surety that the earth wasbeneath his feet, and as night drew on, and he could no longer see thesoil his boot-soles pressed, he only knew that he was descending. 

And then of a sudden came the barking of a dog in greeting, and thebray of a hungry mule, and he found himself close upon a cabin, and bya freak of fortune it proved to be his own, and he was at home. 

Vaguely enough, yet insistently, the experience kept recurring to himduring the days in Asheville, when he was awaiting his trial. 

He went into the court-room in the Federal Building and watched, with alanguid curiosity born of its foreignness, the easy-going ceremony ofthe opening of court. A group of lawyers laughed and gossiped at thefront. A larger number of men, who proved to be potential jurors, gathered on one side and talked together more quietly, impressed by thenovelty of their experience; while the men who had served on the jurybefore explained the furnishing of the room to them. 

Some ladies were ushered into seats near the bench by a dapper younglawyer. Behind a railing, all about von Rittenheim, in front of him, beside him, and back of him, were the lean forms and bent shoulders ofthe mountaineers who were witnesses or principals in the whisky casesthat fill so fully the docket of this court. From their appearance itwas impossible to tell which were the law-breakers and which thebearers of testimony against them. There were old men and boys. Children were clinging to the skirts of their mothers, who had come totown either as witnesses or for the holiday. One woman was quieting acrying baby with the gag that a baby never refuses. She herself wassoothed by the snuff-stick that protruded from the space left vacant bythe early decay of her two front teeth. 

The air rapidly grew heavy with the smell of unwashed bodies and ofmoist tobacco, and with the peculiar oily odor of corn whisky. 

A short man of important bearing stepped in front of the rail andscanned the mass behind it. He easily singled out von Rittenheim, whosecropped head shone fair from among the towsled pows around him. 

"Oh, von Rittenheim, " he called, "step out here a minute. "

"My so good friend, Mr. Weaver?" acknowledged Friedrich, looking at himthrough the squinting eyes that a sharp headache gave him. 

"You'll be held by the grand jury, of course, von Rittenheim, but youneedn't stay here all the time. Just drop in once or twice a day andsee how the list stands. Some of these are old cases crowded out of thelast term, and we may not get to you until Wednesday or Thursday. Itain't a right enjoyable place to stay in, and you'd better go out inthe fresh air--you look sick. "

"My head does give me pain, " Friedrich admitted. 

"Your case can't possibly be called to-day, anyway. You'd better go offuntil to-morrow. "

"I thank you. I will when I have seen the honorable judge come in. Itis most new to me, these customs of yours. "

"I reckon they must be, " returned Weaver, with something like pity inhis upward glance at the drawn face above him. He scuttled off as avoice cried, --

"The court! the court!"

The lawyers scampered to their places behind the bar, and stood toacknowledge the entrance of the judge. 

Beyond thinking him strangely unjudicial in appearance, Friedrich tookno interest in him, for he did not regard him as the arbiter of hisfate, since he had learned the customary sentence for cases like his, which was pronounced with the regularity of machinery and knew novariety. 

He waited until another half-hour's observation had made clear to himthe method of drawing the jurors. He left this task still in process ofbeing fulfilled, and urged his way out of the press that held him fast. 

The fresh, cool air was as wine to him, for wine invigorates the bodywhile it clouds the mind. His lungs greedily took in great draughts ofits light purity, and his blood raced so merrily that he grew confused. Always the pain bit into his eyes, and through his half-closed lids hesaw but dimly the people around him and the pavement beneath his feet. 

He went back to the little room that he had hired, and slept heavilyinto the afternoon. When he went out to get his supper at a restaurant, the gaunt figures of his fellow-criminals were at every step. Theygazed curiously into the lighted shop-windows; they talked in groupsthat overflowed the curbstone into the gutter. In a vacant lot back ofthe Methodist church the glare of a camp-fire showed the covered wagonthat was to give a night's shelter to the family whose shadows werecast large against its canvas side. 

As he passed each group of them the odor that he had breathed for anhour in the morning assailed his nostrils and seemed to force itselfinto his lungs. He could not eat his supper, and he spent a restlessnight, filled with horrid dreams. Sydney was selling whisky to Mr. Weaver. The Judge turned into Dr. Morgan, who grinned triumphantly athis victim as he stood in the crowd behind the rail. He bent to kissthe hand of Mrs. Carroll, and she held in it a shell filled withbird-shot. 

Always the sickening odor of the overheated court-room choked him, andhis head throbbed unceasingly, and the balls of his eyes beat inanguished unison. 

The first electric-car passing the house in the early dawn crashed intohis dream as the bullet that was speeding from his revolver to Dr. Morgan's heart, and found its resting-place in Sydney's breast instead. He woke to find himself soaked with the sweat of exhaustion. 

The cloud of that day on the mountain still clung around his fancy ashe went out upon the street again. A horrible something, as penetrableas mist, as keen as the sting of conscience, as inevitable as theburden of life, seemed to inwrap him. He felt it dully, and wonderedhow much of it was physical and how much mental, and he didn't carewhich it was. 

He ate a little breakfast, though it was odious to him, and went outto meet again the lantern-jawed mountaineers, who, like him, --_likehim_, --were drifting towards the Federal Building. 

Yes, he was going to the court-room to be tried for a criminal offence;he was a criminal, a criminal, a criminal. It buzzed angrily throughhis head. 

He stumbled over a child sitting beside his mother on the edge of thesidewalk in front of the post-office. The woman had her elbows on herknees and her face in her hands, and in her eyes was the look ofwaiting that comes to women with uncertain husbands. She cuffed thechild, and then shook him to still the uproar she had created. Two morechildren sat on the curb beyond her, and beyond them, up HaywoodStreet, men leaned against the iron fence or squatted in pairs upon thesidewalk. Friedrich wondered how they kept their balance, and went onup the stairs, through pools of tobacco-juice, to the court-room, wherethe day's work already had begun. 

He secured a seat, and leaned his head against the wall. A negro man, accused of fraudulently obtaining a pension, was explaining volubly howhe had received the injury upon which he based his claim. 

His case was given to the jury, which filed out, and the second set ofmen made themselves comfortable in the abandoned seats, with muchscraping of chairs and of throats, and adjustment of cuspidors to therange of each juror. 

The case of the next prisoner, tried on a charge of a fraudulent use ofthe mails, lashed to frenzy the prosecuting attorney. He compared thisfoul violator of the laws of his country with Sextus and BenedictArnold and Judas Iscariot. The national eagle had been insulted in hisnest, and his screams were ringing from mountain-peak to mountain-peak. The echoes of Mitchell were sending back the cry, and Saint Elias'ssnowy top gave forth an answering sound. 

Von Rittenheim understood enough of the rapid English to realize itsirrelevancy, and wondered idly why the man was such a fool, not knowingthat it was the presence of a visiting national senator from the hotelthat had inspired this eloquence. 

The air grew worse as more and more people pushed into the alreadycrowded room. Some one opened a window, and some one else immediatelybegged to have it shut. There was a constant shuffling of feet and arestless moving of hands. Friedrich found himself smothered by theevil-smelling clothes of his companions as he sat against the wall, andhe stood, to bring his head up into a clearer air. The steam in one ofthe radiators began to thump and clang, and each crash smote a rawnerve in his beating temple. 

The feeling of striving against the mist, yielding but inexorable, hadhim fully in its possession, and through the fog he saw the face ofWilder, the deputy-marshal. Their eyes met, and the malice in theofficer's drove the German mad. How long must he stand here and waitamong these swine? Yet he remembered many hours of waiting motionlessupon his horse, and he rebuked himself for a poor soldier. 

Ah, if only he could tell the whole truth; if only he could standbefore the bar of the world--of God himself--and say, "I am guilty. Ofviolating the law I am guilty. I am willing to bear my punishment forwhat I have done. But if I am guilty, how is he innocent who brake mybread and then tempted me? He who ate my last mouthful, and thenoffered me an unlawful chance to get more? Is the law of hospitality tobe held of no account? And how is he innocent who poses as my friend, who drinks from my cup, who holds my hand in his, and who goes forth tobetray me? Is there no law that binds a friend in honor? I have brokena law--the law of man. Those two men of whom I speak have broken thelaws of the heart, the ties of honor and of love. I am a criminal inthe eyes of men. They are sinners before the face of God. "

Friedrich was trembling as he felt these words flow through his mind. The men on each side of him noticed his agitation, and drew away fromthe emotion of his tense face. So insistently did the words ring in hisears that it seemed to him that he must have spoken them aloud. Yet hewas conscious that he had not, and that when the time came for him toface this throng he would never go beyond the first three words, "I amguilty. "

He found himself speaking quietly to Mr. Weaver, and looked on at theconversation as if he were a thing apart from himself. 

"The next case but one after this will begin the moonshine cases, andyou-all surely won't come on until to-morrow morning. You might as wellgo now. "

"I thank you, " said Friedrich, and stumbled from the room. 

In the corridor he leaned for a moment against the wall, that he mightbe sure to keep his balance as he went down the steep stairs dizzyingbefore him. 

How he reached the court on the next day he never could remember. Hewas conscious of feeling very ill, worse than ever he had felt in hislife. His spine pulsed painfully up into his brain; his eyes burnedback in their sockets until the two shafts of anguish met in onewell-nigh unbearable torture. The cloud-mist wrapped about him andhindered him, and yielded only to blind him more. The same evil smellsreeked around him, and a wave of nausea surged within him. 

He heard his name called, and some one guided him to that part of theJudge's platform that served as a dock. He raised his hand, and heardafar off some words about the truth and God. He was bidden to kiss thefilthy cover of a book. Dimly he heard a question and answered it. 

"I am guilty. "

A chair was pushed towards him and he sat down, conscious of a strangesilence in the usually noisy room. 

He heard Wilder telling his story of his purchase of a quart of whisky, "an' he owned it was blockade, " and a long and detailed account of "theDutchy's" resistance to arrest, in which the ferocity of his behaviorwould have been creditable to a bloodthirsty villain driven todesperate straits. 

A voice asked him if he had anything to say, and he heard himselfrepeating once again, "I am guilty. "

Then the voice of the laureate of the eagle's nest soared, and fell toa whisper, and swelled again, and Friedrich wondered if "example" wouldbe "_Muster_" or "_Beispiel_. " And "different class, "--what did thatmean? How stupid he was about English!

By-and-by there was silence, and the Judge's voice said, --

"Three months or a hundred dollars. "

And then there was a long, long silence. 

XI

In the Corn

Summer had come. 

The soft days of spring had gone by, the days when the feeling ofgrowth impresses every sense. The haze-filled April mornings, warminginto the forcing ardor of noon, had stirred into life the activitylatent in root and twig. May's glowing sun, shining through thescantily covered branches, made dancing motes of heat wave above thesurface of red clay. The aspens fluttered into exquisite greenness. Thesourwood put forth the satin of its tender leaves. All over themountain-sides and through the forest thickets the oak-tips blushedfaint pink, a delicate velvet against the stout bristles of the yellowpines. 

Birds flew over, bound for the North, each with his instinctive goal;some almost at their journey's end, others with many a long etherealmile before them. Some of them sojourned for a few days, following theploughman as he overturned the mellow earth. Others let this high landbe the end of their wanderings, and settled here to the duty oflove-making and the pleasures of domestic life. 

The azalea flamed in yellow and orange and scarlet glory, a note ofsavage color on spring's soft palette. The delicate clusters of thelaurel, and, later, of the rhododendron, crowned the stems of theparent bush, as sometimes a fair girl springs from a rough and uglyfather. 

The germ grew strong within its warm seed-prison, and sent inquiringleaflets into the upper world; and the adventurers never returned, butsent back demands for food and drink, as colonists to a new land relyupon the mother-country for sustenance and support. 

On the steep mountain-sides, and in the coves that dimple the lowerslopes; on the flat lands of the plateau, and in the meadows along theFrench Broad, the slender shafts of the corn-leaves were pushing upwardwith what success their position fostered. By mid-June the crop in thebottom-land was knee-high, while that nourished by the field over whichSydney had stumbled on the top of Buck Mountain was only half as tall. 

Bud Yarebrough and Pink Pressley were hoeing among stalks half-waybetween these heights on the upland slopes of the Baron's farm, whosecultivable land they had hired for the season. Stripped to theirshirts, whose open throats showed each a triangle of sunburned skin, they worked rapidly down the adjoining furrows, one keeping a hoe'slength behind the other, that their tools might not interfere. Conversation was more pithy than voluble. 

"Damn hot, " ejaculated Pink, stopping to hitch up his trousers, andthen to spit on his hands before resuming his hoe. 

"Mos' dinner time, " returned Bud, looking up at the sun, and then overhis shoulder towards the spring-betraying group of trees to whichMelissa was accustomed to bring his dinner when he was working here. "They's some feller tyin' his horse in front of the cabin. Who is hit?"

Pink leaned on his hoe and squinted across the blazing field to thegrove that sheltered von Rittenheim's house. 

"Bob Morgan, Ah reckon. Looks like his horse. "

"Come to get somethin' fo' Mr. Baron. O-oh, Bob!"

Bob looked around his horse's nose, and held up his hand in token ofunderstanding. He unlocked the cabin and disappeared within, coming outagain with a bundle, which he tied on to the saddle, and then led hisanimal towards the trees at the spring. The two laborers tossed downtheir hoes and moved to the same haven. 

"What time is hit, Bob?"

Morgan looked at his watch. 

"Five past twelve, Pink. Working hard?"

"Yep. Tol'able big crop. " He sat down at the foot of a tree and openedhis dinner-pail. 

"Have some?" he asked, pointing the opening at Bob, who was settlinginto repose with his hat over his face. 

"No, I thank you. I must be going home in a few minutes. How are yougetting on? Bought any more stock lately?"

Bob lay on his back with one long leg balanced on the other knee like asee-saw on a saw-horse. The rowel of his spur rattled as he jerked hisfoot up and down at the ankle. 

"No. " Pink had his mouth full. 

"How many head have you got now?"

"Oh, jus' a mule 'n a couple o' cows. "

"Sold your horse?"

"'M. Here Bud, take some o' this. Ah jus' natchelly hate to haveyou-all die o' starvation. "

"No, she's comin'. Ah see her now. " And Bud ran to meet his wife and torelieve her of the baby. 

"Hungry, ain' he?" sneered Pink, as he watched his partner's alacrity, while Bob struggled to his feet to greet Melissa. 

"Say, you-all wasn' wantin' to buy a cow, was ye, Bob?" asked Pink. 

"Got one to sell?"

"Yes, the muley cow. "

"No, I don't guess I want her. "

"You seemed so damn curious about my stock, Ah 'lowed ye werepurchasin'. "

"Oh, no. I just thought you must have an extra lot of cattle to beproviding for, or you wouldn't have needed to hire this land and tomake an extra big crop of corn. "

A dull red showed on Pink's forehead above the tan-mark, and crowdedinto his pale-blue eyes, destitute of lashes. The two men lookedsteadily at each other. Then, as Melissa drew near, Pink broke into anugly laugh. 

"Give a dog a bad name, eh? You-all needn' be quite so bigoty now yo'fine friends have been at the same business. "

He waved his hand towards the cabin, and Bob, in his turn, flushed ashe shook hands with Melissa. 

The girl gave scant greeting to Pressley. Her husband's new friendshipwith him was distasteful to her; it filled her with foreboding when sheremembered his threats. 

Yet there had been nothing definite of which she could complain to Budsince the day when Miss Carroll had caught Pink trying to kiss her. Hehad never been to the cabin since his rebuff, but she knew that he andBud were constantly together, and this partnership in the hiring of theBaron's land was a culmination of their friendly relations. 

"Ah don' see how ye c'n stan' him, nohow, Bud, " she often said, and Budas often replied, --

"Ah never did see anythin' like the prejudice o' women! They certainlyain' no doubt about yo' sex, M'lissy. "

Pink bore his part in the present conversation with no trace ofembarrassment. Indeed, there was an assertiveness in his bearing thatreacted upon Melissa to produce extreme shyness. Neither cause noreffect escaped Morgan's shrewd black eyes. 

"How's Mr. Baron?" asked Bud, between bites. 

"Doing very well. He gets out on the porch every day now. "

"Great luck he has, " growled Pressley. "Yo' father never paid my finewhen Ah was given mah choice between 'a hundred dollars or threemonths. '"

"My father likes to choose his friends, " replied Bob, sternly. Melissalooked distressed. 

"What's sauce fo' the goose ought to be sauce fo' the gander, " arguedthe ex-moonshiner. 

"It ain' fittin' fo' you-all to say anythin' ag'in' Dr. Morgan, whatever he may _se_-lect to do, " asserted Bud, combatively, and Pinkhastened to hedge. 

"Ah 'low not. He certainly was white to me when Ah broke mah laig. 'Nas fo' Mr. Baron, Ah always did like him, 'n this is a new tie betweenus. Now we're brothers. "

He chuckled with a full appreciation of his insolence, for the story ofvon Rittenheim's downfall and its cause was well known throughout thecountry. 

Melissa went white at the malignity of his tone. She turned to Bob witha question:

"Mrs. Carroll 'n Miss Sydney--are they wore to a frazzle takin' care o'him?"

"Mrs. Carroll's all right. They've had two nurses from Asheville allthe time, you know. Miss Sydney's wonderful. There's such a lot to doabout a house when there's a serious illness, even for people whoaren't doing the actual nursing. "

"Ah s'pose so. Wouldn' hit be nice, jus' like a story, 'f they'd fallin love with each other--Mr. Baron 'n Miss Sydney?"

"Now, ain' that jus' like a girl!" ejaculated Bud, gulping the last ofhis coffee. 

Bob sat down and fanned himself with his hat. 

"Hot, ain' hit?" observed Pink, dryly. Then he turned to Melissa. 

"You-all's fo'gittin' that he might be in prison at this minute. Nowoman o' his class would marry him now. No woman likes to think herman's guilty o' breakin' the law, eh? You-all wouldn' like yo' husbandto be a moonshiner, would ye?"

The man's body leaned towards the girl, and he fixed her with a cruelstare from which she seemed unable to move her eyes. Seated as he was, he looked like a huge snake upreared to strike. 

He went on mercilessly. "O' co'se ye wouldn'. Ah expect you'd neverhol' up yo' haid ag'in. What woman can when her man's that-a-way?"

"Oh, dry up, Pink, " cried Bud. "You-all make me feel like Ah had theconstable after me now, 'n Lawd knows hit ain' _me_ that's raced 'emthrough these woods. "

Pink acknowledged the shot with a grunt. 

Melissa rose to go, and Bud picked up the baby and handed it to her. 

"Hit's her busy day fo' sleepin', ain' hit?" he said, poking a bluntfinger into the soft cheek. 

"I must go, too, " said Bob, "or my mother'll jar me up for being late. "

"Good-by, " said Bud, genially. "Stop by ag'in some time. "

"Miss Sydney's been so busy she ain' rode over here fo' a long time. Will you-all give mah love to her, please?" said Melissa, timidly. 

"'N mine, " Pink started to add, but a dangerous look in Bob's eyeinduced him to change it to "'N mah _re_-gards to Mr. Baron, " thoughhis grin remained unaltered. 

XII

Illumination

For the first time since the beginning of his illness, von Rittenheimwas walking unassisted towards the cluster of trees on the Oakwoodlawn, beneath whose shelter rugs and low chairs and a tea-table made asummer sitting-room. Mrs. Carroll, who already was established in theshade, watched anxiously her guest's feeble approach. 

"You should have let the nurse or James come with you, " she called tohim. "It's too far for you to walk alone. "

"Ah, dear Mrs. Carroll, it is so good not to have that admirable nurseor the good Uncle Yimmy with me. "

He let himself down carefully into a big chair. 

"And you see that not yet do I disdain cushions. The down of thatpr-rovident bird, the eider duck, makes a substitute for the flesh thatought to pad my poor bones. Thank you, Uncle Yimmy, " to the old negro, who had just set down the tea-tray, "thank you, yes, one more pillowbehind my shoulders. "

"You'll have tea?"

"May I have tea? Is it possible that I r-return in one same day to twoexamples of independence? I walk abr-road alone, and I say again to mydear Mrs. Carroll, 'I thank you. It does me pleasure to accept a cup oftea from your hands. '" He held up his own hand against the sun. "Alittle worse for the wear, my hand, eh? But still of use. "

A slight change of position brought into view the field at the foot ofthe knoll upon whose top they were. Friedrich sat upright in his chair, while a flush tinged his worn cheeks. 

"What makes Miss Sydney down there?" he cried. 

"Sydney? Oh, she is breaking some of the colts; teaching them to jump, I think she said, to-day. "

Mrs. Carroll adjusted her eye-glasses. Two negro grooms were setting upa low hurdle with wings, while two small black boys dangled joyouslyfrom the halters of a couple of young horses, and a third bore Sydney'ssaddle upon his head. 

"Is it Bob Mor-rgan with Miss Sydney?" asked Friedrich, wistfully, asthe girl walked across the field beside a man who was leading a tallgray, already saddled. 

"Yes, that's Bob. A huge fellow, isn't he?"

"And fear you not that Miss Sydney should ride those so wild colts?"

"Not now. I used to be frightened to death, but I've seen her and Bobdown there doing that for so many years that I've learned not to beafraid. She rides really very well, you know, and Bob is careful ofher. "

"He would be. "

Von Rittenheim sighed, and leaned back with closed eyes. He wished withall his soul that it were he down in the field fitting the saddle--that_dear_ side-saddle--to that dancing creature; that it were he who wasresponsible for the safety of Sydney. 

"Bob gives her a lead over, you see, on his horse, which is awell-trained animal. "

Friedrich opened his eyes in time to see the gray take off neatly. Sydney followed, and lifted her mount so cleverly that he had leapedhis first hurdle before he knew what he was doing. The watchers on theknoll could see Bob, sitting on his horse at one side, clap his handsin approval, while the pickaninnies turned cartwheels in the grass. 

"She does r-ride most beautifully, Miss Sydney. It is truly pleasurableto see her, " murmured von Rittenheim, though his expression was one ofapproval rather than delight. 

"Do you know, Mrs. Carroll, have I told you how much this _Aussicht--view_, is it not?--and the position of your house make me to think of my home?It is on the edge of the Schwarzwald, and we look down from the Schlossinto a valley, oh, so lovely! with trees and a little r-river. "

"A much wilder prospect than we have here at Oakwood. "

"But not more beautiful, and the feeling is the same. "

A vulgar emotion assailed the well-kept precincts of Mrs. Carroll'smind. Curiosity, commonplace curiosity surged within her. She yieldedto its force. 

"How could you bear to leave it?"

"It was the old pr-reference of the man in the window of the burningcastle, --behind, the flames r-roaring mightily, and below, the spearsof his enemies. "

"A choice between evils. "

"Yes, if you will for-rgive my calling your country an evil. I wasunhappy--too unhappy to stay where every day I saw something to make meworse; and that evil was gr-reater than to banish myself, even though Ido love my country dearly. "

"Was it necessary for you to come so far? Could you not find peace inyour own land?"

"I thought not. You see--if I do not weary you I will tell you. Shall Itell you?"

"You never weary me, " returned Mrs. Carroll, heartily. "I shallconsider that you do me an honor if you care to speak to me aboutyourself. "

"It shall be only a little, " began Friedrich, repenting of hisexpansiveness. "Perhaps I have told you that I am the older of myfamily. I have one br-rother four years younger. Our parents are deadseveral years, and Maximilian is married two years ago with Hilda vonArnim. "

"You spoke of them both when you were ill; in your delirium, you know. "

"Of Max and Hilda? What did I say?"

A sharp note was in Friedrich's voice. 

"My dear Baron, I must make the humiliating confession that long disusehas impaired sadly my understanding of German. If you should speak tome very slowly, probably I could comprehend you, but at that time youwere not speaking slowly. "

"My nurses?"

"Neither of them speaks a word of anything but English. "

"It is an escape, " he murmured. "Forgive me, _gnädige Frau_. It is astartle to think that perhaps you have given to the world your heart'sthoughts. "

"Be reassured. It was only the names, Max and Hilda, that weunderstood. "

"When my tr-rouble came to me, it was unbearable to stay at theSchloss, so I must go away. Yet Maximilian was not able to pr-reservethe estate as it should be kept. He is not r-rich, Max, and he is alittle what you call swift, eh? He spends much. "

"I see. "

"So if I leave him to care for the Schloss I must leave him also myincomings, and, if I act so, I cannot live myself in my own countrywhere I have friends of the army and of society; where I have a--whatis it?--a stand?"

"Position?"

"Yes, yes, a position to hold up. I must go where it concerns nobody ifI am changed in purse. So to America I came, it is about two yearssince, and for one year I tr-ravelled everywhere to see where I likedbest, and for the diversion also, for I was most sad. Then my moneygrew down so small that I saw I must stop, so to this lovely land Ihappened, and I bought my little farm. But, alas! I fear I am not afarmer. Still, I shall learn. I am determined of that. "

"I'm sure you will. You haven't had a chance yet. "

"And this year, what can I do? I am so misfortunate as to be away andsick at the time of planting. "

"You won't be without some little return, for when we found that youwould be ill so long we let your fields to two men who have plantedthem, and will pay you one-third of their crop of corn. That's thecustomary rent here, and it will keep your mule through next winter, atany rate. "

"Now, that is truly kind and thoughtful. It is, indeed, fr-riendly!"

"You must thank Dr. Morgan for that arrangement. "

Von Rittenheim sat erect and stared at the little old lady before him. A look of confused and struggling recollection was called into life byher words. 

"I must thank--whom?"

The spirit of the gallant adventurer who had been Mrs. Carroll'simmigrant ancestor to the Virginia wilds pushed her on to dare thesituation. She also sat upright, and the two faced each otherundauntedly. 

"You must thank Dr. Morgan for that kindness, and for others evengreater. "

"Dr. Mor-rgan?"

Clearer remembrance brought with it the old feeling of suspicion andits accompanying look of hatred, which distorted Friedrich's handsomeface. 

"Yes, Dr. Morgan. I want you to listen to what I am going to tell you. You are well enough now to hear the truth. "

"It is your right, madam, to say to me what you may like. "

Von Rittenheim turned his stern face towards the training-field, andkept his eyes upon the moving forms that shifted below him. 

Mrs. Carroll was unabashed. 

"Dr. Morgan is an old and tried friend of mine and of all my family. Hehas seen life come and go at Oakwood. He rejoiced with us at Sydney'sbirth, and he was my chief help and support when her father and motherleft us two here together, alone. "

With a certain tenderness--the yearning that a man feels to protect thefeeble and the helpless--Friedrich turned his softened eyes towardsher. 

"I tell you this because I can say truthfully that I know him to befaithful in friendship and incapable of treachery. "

Friedrich turned again with tightened lips to his contemplation of themeadow. 

"We heard of your being summoned to court and for what purpose. "

Mrs. Carroll stopped, for a grayness settled over the young man's face, and the eyes that he turned upon hers were filled with horror. 

"You had forgotten?"

"Yes, I had forgotten. "

All the pride went out of him, as the fading of the sun's flush leavesthe evening clouds without illumination and dull. 

"I had for-rgotten, but now I r-remember. It comes back to me. Yes, nowI r-remember all--all. "

He turned away his face both from her and from the field below, andrested his cheek on his hand. Mrs. Carroll noticed the thinness of hiswrist, and her heart misgave her. 

"Shall I go on?"

"If it please you. "

"Bob Morgan went into Asheville to follow your career in behalf of allyour friends here. "

Von Rittenheim's head fell lower. 

"He was in the court-room when you were----"

The old lady hesitated and watched von Rittenheim sharply. She wasdoubtful of his strength after all. 

"When I was--yes, continue, please, " he said, with muffled voice. 

"When you were sentenced. "

She hastened on, pretending not to hear the groan that followed herrevelation. 

"He galloped out here at once as fast as he could, and told us aboutit--his father and me. He feared an illness for you then--you lookednot yourself, he said. We decided that it was best for you to come hereto Oakwood. We could not bear to think of your going to the hospital. "

Friedrich felt vaguely across the table for the plump little hand ofhis hostess, and pressed it blindly. 

"They drove into town that same afternoon, Dr. Morgan in our carriage, and Bob in his buggy, and found you in the--found you very ill. "

"Found me where?"

"You were delirious even then. "

"Found me where?"

Friedrich pushed aside the cups and placed both elbows on the table. Heseemed to Mrs. Carroll to have grown haggard since she had begun herrecital. 

"Found me where?" he repeated for the third time. 

"You insist?"

"It is my r-right. "

"They found you in--in the jail. "

Mrs. Carroll turned away from the wretched man before her and sobbedundisguisedly. On them fell a quiet pregnant with emotion. The hush wasbroken by the crash of a tea-cup upon which Friedrich's fingers hadhappened to fall. 

"Bob secured the nurses and drove one of them out in the buggy, and theDoctor and the other one brought you in the carriage. "

"Why did they let me go from the--jail?"

"The Doctor paid your fine. "

Often during the preceding weeks Mrs. Carroll had thought of thisconversation with von Rittenheim, and the statement that she had justmade always had figured as the climax of her argument in the Doctor'sbehalf. Now she felt no pleasure in it. The man before her was toocrushed for her to exult over. He made no comment, merely said, reflectively, --

"Yes, there was a fine. It comes to me, --'one hundred dollars or threemonths. ' It is the last thing I r-remember. "

"You were dangerously ill by the time you reached Oakwood, and forthree days Dr. Morgan left you only to visit his other patients. Between the attacks of stupor you talked a great deal, usually inGerman, but occasionally in English. From what you said then, and whatDr. Morgan remembered of conversations you had had with him, and fromwhat Bob learned in Asheville, we gathered that you thought that whenDr. And Mrs. Morgan met the marshal on the road after they had been toyour house, they betrayed you to him, and your arrest was theconsequence. Is that so?"

Von Rittenheim nodded. "Yes, it is so. "

"I hope it will come to you as clearly as we see it who are theDoctor's friends, that he is incapable of such a thing. "

"Dear lady, even already I think I see it. I r-remember darkly mytrial; how the officer told of his trick to entr-rap me into selling. Ah, dear Mrs. Carroll, I was anxious to despair from my so unusualpoverty, and I was hungry, and bitten with shame for my weakness--andhopeless. "

Unconsciously his eyes turned to the field below, where Sydney's hairgleamed red bronze in the sunset light. She was dismissing the men andhorses. A great wall seemed to von Rittenheim to spring up betweenthem, a wall made thick by his folly, and high by his disgrace, andstrong by his weakness. 

"Though I am shameful to say such things as if they were excuses, nothing excuses me. I am without justification. I say so most humbly toyou. "

Weakly he leaned back among his cushions. Mrs. Carroll glanced at himand hurried on. 

"When the first fury of the disease was spent, you seemed distressed atthe sight of the Doctor, though you did not recognize him fully; so, though he has not failed to come here twice each day, it is through thenurses' reports and Bob's that he has been treating you. He can do somuch better for you now if you will see him. "

"If I will see him?" he repeated. "Yes, I can at least make some littleamends for my folly--my distr-rust. But can I win back ever myself-r-respect, so that you and other people can r-respect me? Sothat----"

He stopped as Sydney's voice reached him. She was coming up the hill, laughing with Bob. 

Von Rittenheim looked appealingly at Mrs. Carroll. 

"Sydney, " she called, "go on to the house, dear, with Bob, and sendJames here. "

She rose and laid her hand tenderly on the bent head. 

"Stay here a while. It is still quite warm enough for you. "

She went slowly across the lawn and disappeared beneath the veranda'sroses. A level ray from the setting sun touched Friedrich's fair hairwith gold, and went on to be splintered into a thousand tiny shaftsagainst the swelling side of the silver cream-jug. 

XIII

Reconciliation

The sunshine of a clear June day was beating upon the gravel of thedriveway, and a few woolly clouds, the forerunners of the earlyafternoon's daily shower, clung over the tops of the southernmountains. 

Behind the screen of vines and climbing roses that sheltered the porchvon Rittenheim sat reading a New York paper of two days before. It wasthe morning after his explanation with Mrs. Carroll, and the emotionaloutcome of the talk had been a state of abasement of soul that hadsapped his little store of strength. His thin hands shook weakly, andhe continually changed his position, and glanced expectantly at thelong window which opened upon the gallery. 

Sydney's voice inside the house made him clutch his paper nervously. She spoke loudly, as in warning. 

"The Baron? You'll find him on the porch, Dr. Morgan. The nurse sayshe didn't sleep very well last night. "

"He didn't? We must mend that. " And the Doctor stepped from the windowand approached his long-unseen patient. 

Von Rittenheim looked up into the wrinkled brown face with its shrewd, kind eyes, and covered his own eyes with his hand. 

"You know?" he asked, brokenly. "Mrs. Carroll has told you?" He felthis other hand taken into a cordial grasp. 

"Mrs. Carroll has told me that she has described to you all thehappenings of yo' illness that had escaped yo' attention, so to speak. Curious troubles, these brain affairs, aren't they? Make you feel as ifyou'd been on an excursion outside of yo'self for a while, and had tohear all the home news when you got back. "

Von Rittenheim grew composed as the Doctor rambled on. 

"She has not told you, " he said, insistently, "of my so deep r-regretfor the injustice that I made towards you. I can never do atonement formy br-rutal behavior, for my unjust suspiciousness. That you can takemy hand shows much par-rdon in you. "

"Now, don't talk about that any more, Baron. It ain't worth it, " Dr. Morgan replied, awkwardly. "Ah don't guess that circumstances lookedvery favorable to me. Anyway, you-all can please me best now by doingcredit to my doctoring skill. Quit having the appearance of a skeletonjust as quick as you can. "

"I'll try, " answered Friedrich, meekly. 

"And don't worry too much over what's gone by, " went on the Doctor, clumsily. "Breaking the law's breaking the law, Ah'm not denying that;but it makes a lot of difference what the motive is, and you'vesuffered your share of punishment, too. It's the right of every man tobegin afresh. Avoid mud and give yo' horse a firm take-off, and he'llleap as clean as a whistle for you. Lawd, Ah'm getting plumbreligious, " he ejaculated, wiping his face. 

Friedrich's knowledge of English was put to a test, but he listenedwith his eyes as well as his ears, and nodded slowly. 

"I think I understand, " he said. "But do you think that people--myfr-riends"--his eyes turned towards the house--"that my friends canoverlook it--can ever think of me as they used to think of me?"

"Oh, I reckon she will, " replied Dr. Morgan, with a smile thatdisconcerted von Rittenheim and drove him to a new topic. 

"You will for-rgive me if I do talk some business with you, " he said, hastily. 

"Do you feel well enough?"

"Oh, yes. I shall feel much better when I have cleared my mind of allthese things. I want to say to you that I do much appr-reciate, also, besides your kindness, all the money that you have paid, and--no, letme talk, please, Herr Doctor--and I must tell you that I shall writeto-day to Germany for a r-remittance. There is a sum which I can have. Yes, I see you look, wondering that I have lived so poor. Well, Iexplain to you that I have sworn that I would not use it for myself--Ihave another use for it--so long as I am well and can earn enough forliving; but now I am not well, and I have expenses in the past weeks, and I must live until I grow str-rong to work in some way; so am Ijustified to myself to send for the money, you see. "

"Fix it any way you like, " said the Doctor, cheerily, "only rememberthat if it ain't convenient to pay up _ever_, --why, just banish it fromyour mind, and Ah'll never think of it again, Ah promise you. Now, isthat all?" he asked, as he leaned towards his patient and put apractised finger on his pulse. "Yes? Then Ah'd like to know where thatSydney is with that egg-nog. Here, you Sydney, " he cried, putting hishead into the house and letting his cracked voice echo into thedarkness. "What kind of a nurse are you? How do you expect to rise inthe profession, miss, if you don't have an egg-nog ready the instantyo' patient happens to think of it? Oh, here you are! Well, sit downhere, then, and see that the Baron takes every drop of that, and don'ttire him out with yo' chatter. Do you understand?"

After which burst he kissed her, and disappeared into the house. Sydneyturned blushing to the Baron, and laughed at his wistful look. 

"Age has its compensations, " he said, as he took the tumbler from her. "But I do not begrudge the good Doctor all the happiness that comes tohim. He is a most generous man. "

"He's a darling!"

"A darling? Ah, yes. I should not have used that word for _him_, but Iagree with the sentiment. "

"You are critical this morning. Don't you ever allow yourself anyliberty of speech in German? Do you always say exactly what you mean, and use exactly the right word?"

"Oh, Miss Sydney, you describe to me a pig--no, a pr-rig person. SurelyI use many picture words in my thinking of--well, just to illustratewhat I mean, I will say, in my thinking of _you_!"

Sydney moved her position so that her face was partly hidden behind theback of the Baron's wheeled chair. 

"Now, there is _Schatz_, " went on Friedrich, sipping his egg-nogplacidly, but keeping a wary eye upon the bit of pink cheek that wasstill within his range of vision. "I like to think of you as_Schatz_, "--there was a danger-betokening movement of the glowinghead, --"because you are such a treasure to your grandmother. "

He paused a moment, but there was no reply. 

"And _Perle_--it is a pretty word, _Perle_--it makes you to think ofthe r-radiance of the moon, so pure, so soft. Yes, " he went on, hastily, "_Perle_ r-rhymes with _Erle_--that means an alder-tree--andthat r-reminds me of you. "

"I must say I fail to see the resemblance, " came an injured voice frombehind the chair. 

"Not see? Oh, Miss Sydney, surely--with your cleverness! Listen tothis, then; perhaps you like it better that I call you my--I mean_a_--_Rose_. "

"That's because my hair is red. "

"It is a white r-rose that always figures in my mind. A beautiful whiter-rose with a heart of gold. "

By a dexterous touch upon one wheel he whirled his chair about so thathe saw her downcast face. 

"A heart full of goodness to others is it, and of courage, and oflove. "

He was leaning eagerly towards her. She lifted her eyes with an effort, and met his. Then he remembered. 

"Yes, " he continued, hurriedly, "full of love for the poor and thedesolate. "

Sydney rose. 

"Your pretty figures do me too much honor, " she said, unsteadily, andwent into the house with lingering tread and look. 

Friedrich gazed after her. 

"God knows I would be counted among the poor and the desolate, " hecried, softly, to himself. "But I must not speak again of this until Iam more worthy to stand before her--if ever that can be!"

XIV

The Fourth of July

That the settle-_ment_ celebrated the Fourth of July was not due to anexuberance of patriotism, but to the mercantile spirit of Uncle Jimmy'sson, Pete. 

Pete was married, and lived in one of the cottages on the Oakwoodestate, where he worked intermittently, sandwiching between thin slicesof manual labor thick layers of less legitimate emprise. 

Independence Day, as the anniversary of the birth of our country'sliberty, is not celebrated with enthusiasm in the South. It meets withmore cordial acceptance when regarded as another opportunity forknocking off work. 

Pete's plan catered to all conditions of conscience, from the searedcommodity that asked no excuse for playing to the scrupulous articlethat considered justification necessary, and found it in theinfrequency of such amusement. 

He advertised far and wide, by placards in the scattered stores andpost-offices that cling near the railway stations and dot the HaywoodRoad on the other side of the river, a--

 GANDER PULIN FORTH OF JULY AT 5 OCLOCK. FRADYS FEILD. 

"I always make a point of going to these outdoor gatherings of thecountry people, " explained Mrs. Carroll to the Baron, as they drovetowards the field. "I think they like to have me. "

Von Rittenheim had insisted upon going home to his cabin a few daysbefore, since which time the old lady had missed him grievously. He wasnot yet strong enough to take the five-mile ride to Oakwood on hismule, and she had made the gander-pulling an excuse to go to his cabinto see how his housekeeping was progressing, and to take him for adrive. 

"We don't have gander-pullings often now, since the law requires thatthe fowl shall be dead, " she explained. "It demands less skill to breakthe poor thing's neck when it isn't writhing wildly. "

"And it does not r-rouse the br-rutal desire to kill that seems to livein every one of us men. Will Miss Sydney be there?"

"Yes, she is going on horseback--"

"Ah!"

"--with John Wendell. "

"Eh?"

"You didn't meet them--John and Katrina Wendell--when they were here inthe spring. They went North again not long after you came to Oakwood. "

"Oh, dear madam, I do so earnestly hope that my going to Oakwood didnot depr-rive you of more welcome guests. "

"Not the least in the world. They went back to New York to put thecrown to a pretty romance. "

"A love-story!"

"Katrina was sent down here, under her brother's care, to forget acertain Tom Schuyler, whom her mother considered impossible because hewas penniless. "

"The poor but honest suitor. "

"A poor but lavish suitor would describe him better. It seems that anaunt of his was moved to give him a present of five hundred dollars. Hesays that he had just paid his tailor's bill as a concession to hisdesire to _range_ himself, and he really didn't know what to do withthe money. It wasn't enough to get anything really nice with, --he'dbeen trying to make his father give him an automobile, --unless it werea ring for Katrina. He concluded, however, that Mrs. Wendell wouldobject to her daughter's accepting it, and that he might as well take alittle flyer with it. "

"Take--what is that?"

"Speculate--in stocks. "

"And he made his for-rtune?"

"No, on the contrary. He took his father's advice about his purchase, and lost his five hundred dollars within twenty-four hours. "

"Then wherefr-rom came his good luck? For surely I perceive thepr-resence of good luck. "

"His father was so remorseful over his poor counsel, and so delightedwith Tom's apparent desire to 'settle down, ' that he made amends forhis unfortunate 'tip' by giving his son a very decent sum of money. "

"It is like a story, is it not? So the brother and sister went up fromhere to the wedding. "

"It was only a few days ago, and now Tom and Katrina have come to us ontheir _Hochzeitreise_. "

"And the brother?"

Mrs. Carroll glanced amusedly at her companion. 

"He came to-day on the afternoon train, to continue the visit whichKatrina insisted on shortening for him in May, he says. "

"You will enjoy them. "

Friedrich's tone was not enthusiastic, and he pulled his moustachegloomily. 

"Very much. They are charming young people. See, there are Tom andKatrina now, just turning into the field. "

Von Rittenheim raised his hat as Mrs. Schuyler waved her hand to Mrs. Carroll, and studied critically the bride's radiant face and prettygown as the victoria followed the phaeton through the openedfence-rails. He found her charming and acknowledged it reluctantly, notbecause he begrudged her her beauty, nor because he thought herhandsomer than Sydney, for he did not, but because he had a secret fearof the attractiveness of the brother of so fascinating a girl. 

"Tom, " said Mrs. Carroll, as Mrs. Schuyler came to the side of thecarriage, "I want you to know my very dear friend, Baron vonRittenheim--Mr. Schuyler. Now take the Baron over to Katrina, Tom, andthen find Mrs. Morgan, --that's she in the red-wheeled buggy, --and begher to come and sit with me here. Vandeborough, " to the coachman, "drive me under that apple-tree, where there is more shade. How do youdo, Eliza?" she said to a woman by whom the carriage slowly passed;"I'm glad to see you out to-day. And you, Mary. Jack Garren, is thatyou? You grow too fast for my memory. Ah, Jane, I hope your rheumatismis better, --and is that Mattie's Bertha? Stop here, Vandeborough. Thiswill be comfortable. Ah, Mrs. Morgan, it is kind of you to make me alittle visit, but I couldn't possibly climb into that buggy of yours. Idon't know how you achieve it. "

"Nor do Ah, Mrs. Carroll. Ah thought it was high five years ago, whenAh didn't consider mahself overly fat, so you can imagine what theeffort is now. " And she shook jovially. 

"Is the Doctor here?"

"Yes, indeed. He drove me. He always comes to these things. Theygenerally need him before they get through, and it often saves him along trip into the mountains if he's on the spot when things happen. "

"I dare say his presence prevents a good many quarrels. "

"Maybe so; but Ah should hate to have any mo' fights than there are. There's always whisky about, you know. "

"If the chief crop of this country could be changed, what a blessing itwould be!"

"Ah don't know as it would make much difference as long as potatoeswere left. "

"And thirst. "

"There's Bob now. O-oh, Bob!" she called, waving a fat hand to her sonas he cantered across the open on his gray. 

Bob looked about for the source of the call, and turned his horsetowards the tree. 

"He's growing handsome, Mrs. Morgan, " said Mrs. Carroll, in anundertone, as the tall fellow leaped to the ground, slipped the bridleover his arm, and pulled off his cap. 

"He looks as his father did at his age, " returned Mrs. Morgan, fondly, glancing across to where her husband was talking to a group of lankmountaineers from whom he was hardly to be distinguished. 

"It's right nice of you to come this afternoon, Mrs. Carroll, " Bob wassaying. "The people always appreciate it. What is it, mother? Thoseboys? Oh, they're having a game of ball; and the men you see overyonder are throwing horseshoes over a peg--with mighty poor skill, too. Here come Patton McRae and Susy. Excuse me. I'll help him with hishorses, " for Patton's black mare hated the harness even more than shedid the saddle, and was doing her best to demoralize her mate andoverturn the buggy. 

Sydney, entering the field from the State Road, glanced past thetethered mules and the chair-laden wagons, from which the horses hadbeen taken, to where Bob sat in the carriage beside Susy, sayingsomething very pretty to her, if downcast lids and a blush are anyevidence; in reality, teasing her about an absent sweetheart. 

Wandering farther, her eyes saw the quoit-throwers, and the groups ofwomen and children sitting in the shade, enjoying an interchange ofgossip with the zest of infrequent meetings. She saw the clusters oflaughing negroes, and the tent where Pete and his wife were doing avigorous business in cakes and ice-cream and lemonade. She waved herhand to her grandmother and Mrs. Morgan. She noticed the men and boyswho strolled with apparent aimlessness towards the thicket on the edgeof the field, and returned wiping their lips on their sleeves. And shesaw Katrina talking animatedly to Baron von Rittenheim, who sat besideher, while Patton McRae watched her with adoring eyes, and Tom wore theconscious smile that indicates the young husband's pride of possession. 

Sydney had been feeling very much without occupation since the Baronhad gone home, and the anticipation of seeing him again this afternoonhad been pleasant to her. He never had made love to her more definitelythan on the morning after his interview with Dr. Morgan, but to herselfshe acknowledged that he admired her, and while she was not sure of hisentertaining a more pronounced feeling, up to this time she had known, atleast, that his eyes were only for her. And here he was _revelling_--sheunderlined the word in her thought--in Katrina's vivacity and charm. Thesensation of rivalry was new to her and not pleasant. 

As for Bob, she had a feeling of warm affection for dear old Bob, and adesire to be useful to him, and she meant to make her influence overhim one for good, if that were possible. She was thoroughly glad in thenews that had come to her that Bob had not been drinking for severalmonths now. But how he could help referring to the passage that hadoccurred between them she could not understand. She didn't reallywant him to make love to her, --that was a notion altogether toounmaidenly, --but she did feel as if an expression of affection from_somebody_ would be very comforting. 

She turned to John Wendell, who rode beside her, and gave him a moregenerous smile than it had been his lot to receive while Sydney was thepossessor of those agreeable anticipations of the early afternoon. 

"You like it? All this?" She waved her hand comprehensively. 

"I love it, " he answered, promptly, looking at her clear-cut face withits frame of red hair under her sailor hat, and at the well-made linenhabit. 

"It must be novel to you. "

"Not very. " He pulled his moustache to conceal an amused smile. "Itdepends upon where new ends and old begins, you see. Now, I came downhere in April, so my feeling is not 'the last cry. '"

"But at that time of year you didn't see--oh, how foolish you are!" shecried, and touched Johnny with her spur. His response brought him nearthe phaeton, which seemed a focal point for a general movement. 

"They're going to have the gander-pulling now, " exclaimed Bob, who hadcome with Susy to join the group. "The best view will be from thisside. "

"Are you going to ride, Mr. Morgan?" asked Katrina. 

"Yes, I think so. "

"Bob never can resist any game that's played with a horse, " saidSydney, laughing. 

"You know you'd like right well to try it yourself, " he retorted. 

Baron von Rittenheim gave his seat beside Mrs. Schuyler to Miss McRae, and went to Sydney's side. 

"At last the sun begins to shine, " he said, in a low voice, smiling upat her and patting Johnny's neck. 

"Your universe has many suns, I'm afraid, " responded Sydney, a triflepettishly, yet swiftly, scanning his face for signs of returninghealth. She was not unobservant, either, of his new white summerclothes. 

Friedrich glanced across the horse to Mrs. Schuyler. 

"I find agr-reeable the light of the lesser planets, " he said, "but--there is only one Sun. "

Looking up at her, he laughed again, so heartily and with such genuinepleasure at seeing her that Sydney melted. 

"You look so _well_, " she cried. "It is a delight to see you. But it'snot a compliment to our care that you grow better so fast when youleave us. "

"R-rather is it a tr-ribute to your so admirable nursing that haspr-repared me to r-recover with speed, even though I have it nolonger. "

"Will you ride, Baron?" asked Bob. "You're welcome to Gray Eagle if youwill. "

"I thank you, gr-reatly, but I dare not. The eye of my care-taker isupon me, and your Herr Father is here somewhere. No, decidedly, I amafraid, " and he leaned with every appearance of contentment againstJohnny's shoulder. 

"How about you, Mr. Wendell?"

"I think I will, if Miss Sydney will trust me with the horse. "

"Of course; and I'll give you a lovely prize if you bring me the head. "

"It's yours, " cried John, while Friedrich bit his lip, in annoyance, and thought on the _Ewigweibliche_. 

"Can you find me something, Mr. Morgan?" cried Schuyler. "I reallycan't stand here and see you fellows having this fun without me. "

"What's Mr. Schuyler driving, Sydney? 'Possum? She'll do, if you don'tmind. I'll swipe a saddle off of one of those mules over there. " And heand Tom fell to unharnessing the useful 'Possum, while the Baron heldGray Eagle and commented on Bob's resource. 

"He is full of device, " he said, heartily, "and r-ready, always, tothink and to do. " And Sydney remembered some of the things he had done, and nodded with misty eyes. 

XV

The Gander-Pulling

Under all the trees where horses had been hitched, the mountaineerswere tightening girths, mending unsound bridles, and pulling downstirrups from the saddles across which they had been flung to be safefrom fly-kicking hoofs. 

Some men had switches tucked under their saddle-flaps. Others, lessprovident, swung on to their beasts, and, heavily elastic, trottedacross to the brush to cut a "hickory" from a sourwood-tree. 

Pete was testing the strength of a stout oak pole driven into theground, across whose fork was lashed, like the cross-bar of a "T, " aleaf-stripped sapling. To the tip of this rod the negro was tying thelegs of a big, white goose, whose extended wings and pendant headbetrayed compliance with inexorable law. 

"Hit's a damn shame, " Pete murmured, as he anointed the creature's neckand head with liberal smearings of lard. "Whar de fun o' pullin' on aole daid t'ing lak dis? But Ah hope dey'll tink hit's great!" And hebeat vigorously on a pan to attract the attention of all hearers. 

"Gen'lemen. O-oh, gen'lemen!" he cried, at the top of his lungs. "Nowfo' a great ole gander-pullin'! De only one we've had in dis settle-_ment_fo' t'ree year. Every gen'leman as craves to enter dis gander-pullin'will kin'ly ride up here and _de_-posit a quarter 'f a dollar. Onlytwenty-five cen's fo' de priv'lege o' takin' a pull at dis yergoose, --warranted a tasty goose! One-half dis sum o' money goes to degen'leman who succeeds in _re_-movin' de haid from dis fowl, an' alsode goose hitself, which sho' do look lak good eatin'!"

Pete's old hat soon sagged with the coins that were tossed into it, while his keen eye noted each entry as surely as if he wrote the namein black and white. It would have been useless for anyone to try toenter the lists without paying the proper fee. 

Two lines of excited onlookers served at once to define a lane, whoseultimate point was the gallows whereon hung the goose, and to rouse toexcitement the horses, whose overworked spirits did not respondpromptly to the sudden stimulus. 

They cheered the aspirants with jovial condemnation. 

"Show us what yo' ole plug c'n do, 'Gene. "

"Sho', Alf, you-all ain' goin' to ride that po' critter!"

"He's powerful gaunted up, yo' war-horse, Bud. "

"Mighty strength'nin' ploughin' is, but not stimmerlatin'!"

"High-strung animal, that clay-bank o' Pink's. "

Pink's temper was in that state where he enjoyed hugely gibes at hisfriends' expense, but was in no mood to receive amiably jests directedagainst himself. 

"Whar's you-all's horse?" he shouted, in exasperation, to one of histormentors. "Ah reckon no one would len' you anythin' mo' vallyble 'n abilly-goat. Now dry up. Pete, start this thing. "

He rode to the end of the passage where the horsemen were gathering. Alf Lance, Melissa's father, whose horses Bud and Pink were riding, scanned them both to make sure that they were not too drunk to betrusted with his animals. 

Pete fussed about nervously. 

"Which o' you gents will begin dis pullin'?" he called. "Now, sahs, come on. "

Pink pushed his horse towards the edge of the crowd, but he was hailedwith dissuasive cries. 

"Aw, hold on, Pink. "

"Don' be so bigoty. "

"Who you-all think ye are?"

"Where's Bob Morgan?"

"Yes, Bob's the feller!"

"O-oh, Bob!"

It was their tribute to the Doctor, this giving precedence to his son, and Bob so understood it. It was, therefore, irritating to have Pinkthrust forward his red face and look him over sneeringly. 

"Aw, gwan, " he cried, "lessee what you-all c'n do. "

The bunch of horsemen fell to one side, and Bob started Gray Eagle fromwell back in the field near the deserted wagons. He passed the mountedmen and thundered through the lines of standing howlers. The gray hadbeen his master's coadjutor in so many situations of excitement andeven peril, that the cheering mob did not provoke him unduly. Hegalloped, unswervingly, up to the hanging goose, though his ears werepricked forward, and he shuddered as the instinctive repulsion fromdeath pulsed through him. Bob's outstretched hand grasped the long andslippery neck, while the inarticulate yell with which the Southernfarmer calls his dogs and chases his cows and terrifies his enemieswent up from the onlookers. Tightly he clutched the greasy thing, andtried to give a sharp twist that should break the vertebræ. But hishand slipped swiftly down to the flat head, which offered no hold forhis grasp, the beak ripped through his fingers, and the sapling, whichhad bent and followed him as Gray Eagle dashed on, snapped back, wavingtriumphantly its unharmed burden. 

"Hard lines, old man, but the fun lasts longer so, " cried Wendell, asBob pulled up beside him after circling the spectators. 

"Who's that?" the New Yorker asked, as a lank country horse plungeddown the lane, shied violently at the feathered horror, threw his riderinto the crowd, and galloped with flapping stirrups over the field. 

"'Gene Frady. He never can stay on anything. He's all right, dad, " tothe Doctor, who was moving towards the upper end. "See, he's chasinghis horse now. "

With a drunken whoop, Pink Pressley rushed his animal towards theprize; but his condition, combined with twitches and jerks of thebridle, and rakings of the spur, had acted upon his mount's usuallystolid nerves, and half-way up the alley he whirled about and toreback, carrying his cursing rider far up the road before he calculatedthe probable results to himself of this outburst, and consented toreturn. 

Bud Yarebrough was more fortunate. He leaned far forward and succeededin getting a firm grasp of the neck, but he had guided his horse tooclose to the bird, and his jerk drew it directly over his face, blinding him with grease and feathers. 

His plight was greeted with howls of derision, which fell into silenceas John Wendell made the trial. His unpractised hand in some way pulleddown the goose, and the rebound of the sapling plucked the booty out ofhis grasp, and flung it high above his head. 

Tom Schuyler was equally unlucky. 

Alf Lance forgot that he was left-handed until he was close upon hisquarry, when he dropped his reins and pawed vaguely at the air as hishorse carried him on. 

Another yell announced Pink Pressley's return. Now his chastened steedbore him straight enough to the goal, but by that time Pink was toodrunk to distinguish the goose he was after from the flock that swirledand dipped before his eyes, and he never touched a feather. 

"Doctor, you-all'll have to show us how, " said Alf Lance. 

"Come on, Doctor. "

"Yes, yo' the feller. "

"Bob, give yo' father yo' horse and let him larn ye what's what. "

"Oh, I hope he'll do it, " cried Sydney. "He's capital at it!"

"Fo' the Lawd's sake!" ejaculated Mrs. Morgan, rising to her feet inthe carriage and steadying herself by an informal hand on Mrs. Carroll's shoulder. "Fo' the Lawd's sake, if that ain't Henry Morgan!Well, did you ever!" And her fat body trembled with pride andexcitement. 

Gray Eagle took his second turn with the same equanimity as if his ownmaster were on his back. He galloped handsomely towards the goose;there was a quick snatch and a snap, and the old man turned short andcame back, holding aloft his trophy. 

"Wah, wah, wah!"

Yells, whistles, and cat-calls greeted his success. Sydney and Katrinaand Mrs. Carroll clapped their hands, and the Doctor, folding in hishandkerchief the somewhat dubious treasure, rode over to the apple-treeand presented it to his wife. 

During the confusion attendant upon the harnessing of horses and mules, Bob, restoring 'Possum's saddle to the mule from which he had borrowedit, heard Pink Pressley's voice on the other side of the big oak bywhich he was working. 

"Howdy, Mr. Baron, " he was saying. 

"How_dee_, " responded von Rittenheim, with an accent that made Bobthrow back his head and laugh silently. "You had bad fortune with yourhorse this afternoon. "

"Correct. Damn pore horse. Some day Ah'll have a good horse o' mah own, not a ole borrowed plug. Ah'm goin' to be rich some day. You-all knowhow, eh? Say, "--he was wagging his head solemnly to and fro, disgustingly near von Rittenheim's face, --"Ah reckon you'd like to gointo business with me now ye made a start at hit. "

Bob remained behind his shield, hoping that Pressley would go awaybefore von Rittenheim had the mortification of seeing him. 

"Ah reckon you-all need money mahty bad, " drawled the drunken voice. "Afeller always does when he wants to get married, 'n hit's clear whatyo' after with Miss Sydney. "

Like bolts from heaven, two blows fell upon him simultaneously, and vonRittenheim and Bob faced each other over his fallen body. 

"Leave him alone, " said Bob, hoarsely. "He'll sleep it off. "

Then he strolled over to his father. 

"Dad, I suspect you'd better take a look at Pink Pressley under the bigoak-tree. I've just given him a biff in the solar plexus, or mightynear it. "

XVI

On the Bridge

All through July the growing heat of summer forced the people of thelow country up into the mountains in search of an altitude wherehumidity is not a factor in the sum total of suffering. Every evening'ssix o'clock train brought families of travellers, glad to escape fromthe steaming heat of Charleston or Savannah, or ready to run the riskof the fever-killing frost coming too late for the beginning of the NewOrleans schools. They emerged dishevelled and weary from the hot cars. The elders counted children, nurses, and luggage; the children sat downat once upon the ground and took off their shoes and stockings. 

By the first of August the whole Asheville plateau was transformed fromits winter state. 

The large towns were filled with pretty, pale girls, gay in muslins andribbons and big hats, who danced and drank soda-water in the morningsand danced again in the evenings, or went on drag-rides, and flirted atall hours. 

The small hotels in the country were full of the same girls, chaperonedby gay mammas, who played whist six hours a day, while their chargesfound temperate amusement in walking to the post-office in the cool, purple dusk, and in dancing--chiefly with each other--after supper. 

The proportion of men to girls was the usual summer ratio. Nicediscriminations of extreme age or extreme youth counted for littleagainst ability to dance. The girl with brothers of almost any size waspopular among her kind, and the girl who "grabbed" was held in cordialcontempt. 

Woe be unto the youth who really fell in love. His courtship was thecynosure of all eyes. Its progress was reported hourly. His presencewas noted and his absence commented upon. His ardor was gauged by thethermometer of many eyes, and the barometer of hotel partisanshipbetrayed the storms of love. 

The Neighborhood awoke from its winter sleep. Every house had itsguests, and there were constant gayeties both by day and evening. 

The first moon of August, by lighting the dark forest roads, becameresponsible for nightly festivities. On one of the earliest evenings ofthe month she looked down upon carriages and horsemen making their wayto the French Broad, where Fletcher's Bridge crosses the river. TheSchuylers, with Sydney and John, were in the Oakwood surrey, whileVandeborough cantered behind to take care of the horses "while de whitefolkses eats. "

[Illustration: To the French Broad, where Fletcher's Bridge crosses theriver]

The Cotswold party filled a three-seated buckboard and a surrey, andrejoiced further in outriders. Baron von Rittenheim bestrode his mule. The Delaunays brought a carriage-load of girls, who laughed a greatdeal in the soft, full voices the far South gives her daughters. Fromthe Hugers' party came scraps of talk about "the City, " and the "Isleof Palms. "

There was a wagon-load of people from the Buck Mountain House, too, friends of the Hugers. 

By Sydney's command the picnic fire was built by the river's bank in alarge field, whose openness showed the quick march across the heavensof the rising moon. 

Every one brought a stick to lay on the blazing pile. Bob and one ofthe Delaunay girls fetched water from a spring that hid its coolnessunder a shelving rock in the forest across the road. Susy McRae madethe coffee, hindered by John's advice, more voluble than useful. TomSchuyler was instructed in the proper method of propping up a broilerbefore the blaze, so that the chicken might cook without exacting ahuman burnt offering. Patton volunteered for the task of getting thepotatoes into the ashes. The rest of the girls laid the table-cloths onthe ground, and opened the baskets, and the rest of the men hunted uplogs for seats, and brought the cushions and rugs from the carriages. 

Sydney dominated the scene, giving a clever suggestion to Tom, encouraging Susy to disregard John's teasing, which threatened someharm to the coffee, sympathizing with Patton over a burn, and showingKatrina how to cook bacon on a long forked stick. 

After the meal was eaten and complacency filled them, she it was whosent their suppers to the coachmen, and who packed up baskets andfolded cloths, aided by von Rittenheim and Bob. 

"Oh, do stop doing that, Sydney, " cried Mildred Huger. "You make us allfeel so mean not to be helping you, and you know it isn't necessaryright now. "

"Yes, come and sit by me, Sydney, " said John. "I've been saving aplace, and it'll be a treat for you. "

"Wait a few minutes, Sydney, " said Tom, "and you shall have my valuablehelp. "

"There, it's all done, dear people, " cried Sydney, "and we can watchthe moon with a clear conscience. "

"Will you not come with me to the bridge to see it?" begged Friedrich, in a low voice. "Ah, do come!"

Bob, who had been about to ask the same thing, turned away andstretched himself at Mildred Huger's feet. Susy softly touched herguitar, suggesting popular airs, and voices took up the tunes, nowstopping to say something funny and to laugh while others carried onthe song, now joining in an energetic chorus. On the outskirts of thecircle farthest from the dying fire sat the couples in whom the softnight and the moonlight and the music were arousing sentiment. Morethan one young fellow watched Friedrich and Sydney as they disappearedbehind the willows on the bank, and wished that he had been the firstto suggest the bridge, and envied the two their vantage point. 

They stood side by side upon its hoof-worn planks. Under their feetswept the musical flow of the stream, molten silver in the moonlight asit slid towards them, a sparkling, dancing mist of tossing diamonds asit fled away over the stones of the rough bottom. 

They faced the wonderful glory of the moon. Her hand was on the bar atfirst, and his beside it. After a moment he glanced at the temptingnearness, and put his in the pocket of his jacket. Then he turned hisback upon the moon, and leaned on the railing by her, facing the lessersplendor that was to him as dazzling. 

"Will you for-rgive me if I spoil the beauty of this per-rfect night byspeaking to you a little about--myself?"

His voice was serious. Sydney looked at him and turned away her head. Her lips trembled. 

"I have not the r-right to force upon you a subject so unwor-rthy. ButI think it is just that you should know--that all my friends shouldknow--what work I am going to tr-ry now to do to retr-rieve myself. Ah, you make the little gesture that means 'Say not that word. ' But youwill let me say just this one time ever-ything I want to, if youplease. When I say 'retr-rieve myself, ' I understand well that nothingcan destr-roy the fact that my name is wr-ritten on those books overthere, "--he waved his hand in the direction of Asheville, --"and I knowwell that for my fault all my life I shall suffer in one way oranother. But I can tr-ruly say, in God's sight, "--he stood bareheaded, and faced again the heaven's pomp, --"that I have r-repented my weaknessmost bitterly, both for what it did lead me to, and because suchweakness in itself is shameful. "

Sydney lifted to his her eyes blurred with tears. 

"Don't, " she whispered, hoarsely. 

"_Ach_, Heaven help me, look not at me like that, " he cried; "I cannotbear ever-ything!"

Silence lay between them after this cry of pain. Friedrich began again, very low. 

"I see now clearly what I saw not at the time, --that my weakness cameupon me fr-rom my own lack of str-rength to make an effort. I wascr-rushed by a gr-rief when I left my land to come to America. Iallowed it to paralyze my will. I let myself dr-rift, not caring enoughabout what became of me to exert myself to ward off poverty. Povertynever had been mine, --I did not r-realize it, but I did know well themeaning of self-r-respect and honor, and it was base of me to permit mywill so to sink. "

Again he paused. 

"I tire you? You let me go on?"

Sydney's face looked white in the moonlight. She assented by a motionof the head. 

"Even when I knew--you--"

Sydney gazed down at the scintillant water. Von Rittenheim did not turnto her, and went on, steadily, --

"--and admired your beauty and your sweetness--for-rgive me that Isay these things so baldly--and wondered at the r-responsibilities youassumed, and at the care you took of every needing person who came nearyou--even fr-rom you whom I admired and--whom I admired with all mystr-rength, I did not learn the lesson that was before my eyes. "

"How can you say all this to me, Baron? You must not. "

"You will do me the justice to listen just a pair of minutes longer. Now I see it all clearly; now I have a purpose in my life. It is tomake you look upon me with r-respect, --with so much r-respect that youwill for-rget that on one of those turned-over pages of my life thereis a blot. "

"And you have chosen to seek your salvation through work! It is a finespirit, Baron, and the American gospel--though perhaps you may not likeit the more on that account. "

"You are an American. "

Sydney blushed and laughed, --her sweet, rich laugh. She was glad to bea little farther away from tragedy. 

"Shall I tell you my plan? You will see how I am practical! Mysalvation lies in the unpoetic shape of--cattle. "

"Cattle?"

"I have some money for which I sent to Germany; some that I felt itr-right to use if I should be in gr-reat need of it, but which I shouldnot have sent for except that I was ill. With this money and my littlefarm I go into partnership with young Mr. McRae. His father gives tohim one-half of his so large estate. On his place and mine we r-raise acr-rop which we feed to our cr-reatures. "

"Where are they to come from?"

"Some we do r-raise ourselves, and some we buy here and there, every-where in these mountains where we can find two or threecolts--no, calves. "

"Will there be a sufficient market to justify you?"

"How wonderful for business are you! Yes, we think so. Alr-ready havewe an or-rder to send a whole carload of steers to R-richmond. "

"Really? You've really begun?"

"Yes, I take much pr-ride to say that we have begun two days ago. Patton is to buy the calves at first, he does so well understand thefolk of the mountains; and later, when I talk more accurately English, then I shall help him. Until then my part is on the farms. "

"I think it is admirable! It will give you so much to do and tointerest you. You are sure to succeed. "

She smiled at him generously and with perfect sympathy. Her white dressshone cool against the purple sky, and her face rose radiant above. 

Von Rittenheim leaned over her as she sat on the bridge's railing. Onthe road, not far away Susy McRae's guitar betrayed her approach, andJohn Wendell's barytone hummed the air that she was picking. VonRittenheim put his foot on the topmost bar and leaned his elbow on hisuplifted knee. By his position Sydney was screened entirely from theoncomers. 

"I seem to have a gr-reat deal to say to-night. Now I shall tell you alittle stor-ry. "

His tone was gay, but Sydney saw that his eyes were grave. 

"Does it begin 'Once upon a time'?" she fenced. 

"_Ja. Es war einmal_ a knight, who led a happy life in his own countryuntil a gr-rief came to him which he thought the most ter-rible sorrowthat could come to anybody. He learned better afterwards, but at thetime it seemed to him not to be endured. So he left his home and becamea wanderer over the earth. And for many months he r-roamed, and nothingever made him for-rget his tr-rouble until one day he saw a beautifulpr-rincess. Ah, she was a most lovely pr-rincess, with a face like ar-rose, and teeth like pearls, and a heart that was a tr-reasure ofgoodness. "

Friedrich warmed with his subject. He was looking his fill on thedowncast face before him, while Sydney pulled at the littlehandkerchief in her lap, and carefully smoothed out a corner of it onher knee. 

"As soon as he saw her the knight knew that his old tr-rouble was notwhat he had thought it. And he knew also at once what would be thegr-reatest happiness that life could give him. He determined to winthis happiness if he could, but first he had to pr-rove himself to thepr-rincess that he was a knight of cour-rage and not a weakling. So hetold her of his purpose and begged of her a favor that he might wear iton his heart. "

There was a pause, so long that Sydney asked, still with downcasthead, --

"How does the story end?"

"I know not. "

"You don't know?"

"I never learned it any farther. What do you think comes next?"

"I don't--I think----"

Bravely she raised her eyes to his, and stood before him, blushingdivinely. 

"I think she gave him a token and bade him Godspeed. " And Friedrichfound himself with a morsel of cambric in his hand, which he kissedpassionately, while Sydney was walking towards the bridge's end, answering Susy's cry. 

"Here I am. Is it time to go?"

And John was answering, --

"Mrs. Carroll warned us to go home early on account of the danceto-morrow night. "

Laughing and singing they went through the moonlight, some with thehappy hearts they had brought, others saddened by some of the whimsiesof Fortune that seem lurking to spoil our joy when most we exult. Gladdest of all the blissful ones rode Friedrich von Rittenheim. At thecross-roads he waved a gay "good-by" to the Oakwood surrey as it boreaway from him the lady of his love. He stopped his mule and looked longafter it, and threw a kiss at its bulky form as it plunged into thewood. 

He did not put on his cap again, but stuffed it into his pocket, andtrotted on towards home with the moonlight shining on his fair hair. The good creature between his knees felt his exhilaration and brokeinto a short canter as an expression of sympathy with his master'shumor. The negroes whose cabins he passed pulled the clothes over theirheads, whispering "Hants!" as he galloped by, singing "Dixie" at thetop of his lungs. 

Sydney had taught it to him, the stirring song, and he brought it outroundly, --

 "Oh, I wees' I was in the land of cotton, The good old times are not for-rgotten, Look away, look away, look away, Deexie Land. "

XVII

Out of a Clear Sky

There came to von Rittenheim as he stabled his mule, with many a tenderpat upon his coarse coat, one of those times of spiritual insight whenwe see ourselves as after a long absence we look with scrutiny upononce familiar objects. A perception of new growth filled him withsurprise, as we look at the seedling under the window, and notice of asudden that it has grown to be a sapling. With the scrutiny and theperception came a comprehension of new power, such as we feelobjectively when our child asserts himself, and we understand in aflash that the man is born within him, and that the days of childhoodare past. 

The remembrance of the months of regret and sorrow that had followedupon his coming to America struck him with nausea. The thought of hislong ineptitude for the life which he had adopted voluntarily gave hima feeling of self-contempt. The inertness of his will disgusted him. 

And then all this disgust and contempt was swept away by a great waveof courage and determination and strength. He tingled with theconsciousness that once more there had come to him the intrepidity withwhich his youth had faced the future, the will-power to take up lifeagain, and the force to work and to win. 

Reverently he thanked God for each increment of might that pulsedthrough him, as he struck a match and lighted his lamp, --soautomatically the commonplace actions of life are performed while thespirit surges within. 

Reverently he thanked God for the love that filled him, and for thehope of return that had come to him. Then he stretched his arms upwardto their fullest height, merely for the sake of feeling his physicalstrength, and broke into a torrent of tender German epithets, --_EngleinGeliebte_, _Herzenfreude_, _Liebling_. He took out the little handkerchiefand kissed it again and again, and walked restlessly about his room, tooglad and too happy to be quiet. 

The nickel clock upon the mantel-shelf struck eleven, and at the sametime something like the sound of wheels penetrated his exaltation. Hestopped in his march and listened. No one could have turned by mistakeinto his road in such brilliant moonlight, yet he knew no one who wouldvisit him at that hour. He thought it possible that some one was takingthe back road to Bud's cabin, so he made no move until the vehiclestopped before his house. Then he stepped hastily into his bedroom andslipped his revolver into his pocket before he responded to a gentlerap. 

Flinging back the door he saw standing on the porch a woman, a girl, about whom the breeze blew a scarf of thin black stuff. Two tremblinghands were held out to him as if to implore a greeting, and a whiteface looked up from its dark inwrapment like the face of a wistfulchild. The moon, sailing high in the zenith, cast no light beneath theporch's roof, and von Rittenheim stood unrecognizing. 

She spoke in German. 

"Friedrich, you do not know me?"

"Hilda!"

There was dismay in his tone and surprise unspeakable. He made no offerto take her hands, and they sank at her side. The driver seeing thathis fare had found whom she sought, deposited her trunk and a valiseupon the floor of the porch, with a succession of heavy thumps, anddrove off with a relieved "Good-night, " to which he received noresponse. 

"Friedrich, your welcome is not cordial. Surely you know me? You calledme 'Hilda. '"

"Yes, I know you. You are Hilda, " he repeated, dully. "Why are youhere?"

"Won't you ask me in and let me tell you?"

"I beg your pardon. " He stepped back that she might pass him. "You havesurprised me almost out of my senses--entirely out of my manners, asyou see. "

He gave her a splint chair--one of the two which were the room'scomplement--and stood before her. His arm lay on the mantel-shelf, hisfingers clutching its edge until the nails grew white. The girl tookoff her heavy black bonnet and laid it on the table. The lamp behindher shone through the golden hair that made a halo around her face, theface of a child, unworldly, confiding. The only mark of maturity abouther was the straight line of a determined mouth. 

Friedrich spoke first. 

"You are wearing black. Is it Max?"

The great, innocent blue eyes filled with tears. 

"Yes, it is Max. "

"Poor child!"

A shiver passed over the girl. 

"And poor Max! When was it?"

"Five months ago. "

"Five months ago? You can't mean that! Five months ago! Why wasn't Itold?"

"I hadn't your address. "

"Max had it. "

"I looked through all his papers and found nothing. "

"Herr Stapfer, my lawyer, had it. "

"I applied to him, and he gave me an address in Texas that you had senthim a year ago. "

"It is true. I believe I never wrote to him after I settled here untillast June. "

"Yes, it was in June that I heard from him again that you were here, and ill. I begged him not to tell you of Max's death. I did not knowhow ill you were, and I feared for you. Then I decided to come myselfto find you--and care for you if you needed care. "

"Your aunt?"

"She is dead. I have no one now--but you. "

Silence fell on them. The little figure with the dark robes of hermourning clinging about her, rose and stood before him, her linkedfingers twisting nervously together. 

"You will let me stay? You told me once--you swore it, do youremember?--that your life was mine; that I had but to tell you of myneed. You remember?"

"Yes, I remember. "

His eyes were on the ground and never met her steady gaze, but sheseemed satisfied with what she saw. Her hands stopped their nervousplay. 

She looked curiously about the room. 

"This is a hunting-lodge, I suppose. But you must not think I care. Ishall get on very well. And may I go to my room now?"

Von Rittenheim was startled into activity by the simple request. 

"I think you must wait until some preparation is made. I will go andfetch a woman who will look after you. You will not be afraid if Ileave you alone for a few minutes?"

"Entirely alone?"

"Yes. There is no one here. But see, I leave you my pistol, and you canlock the door on the inside, and when I come back I will call inGerman. No one else near here knows a word of German. "

"Shall I be safe?"

"Perfectly--even without those precautions. I will hurry. "

He stood an instant outside the door listening to the noise of the keyin the lock. Then he turned in the direction of the Yarebroughs', andran feverishly along the path. 

His knock upon the door was answered by a sleepy "Who's that?" and theclick of a gun's hammer. Von Rittenheim explained his identity, and Budresponded by opening the door an ungenerous crack. The Baron told hisnecessity, --how his sister-in-law had arrived unexpectedly, and wouldMrs. Yarebrough be so good, so _very_ good, as to go back with him andsee if she could make her comfortable, and spend the rest of the nightthere?

Bud shut the door, and Friedrich heard the sound of discussion. Kindness of heart and curiosity to see the strange lady triumphed overthe claims of sleep, and Bud opened the door again to call through thecrevice, --

"She'll go, Mr. Baron. "

It was almost midnight when they reached the cabin, Friedrich and thewhole Yarebrough family; for Sydney Melissa could not be left behind, and Bud had a curiosity of his own. Von Rittenheim spoke in German andthe door was unlocked. He made a hasty explanation to Hilda concerningthe number of his escort. 

Melissa stared with all her eyes at the childish beauty before her. 

"Oh, Mr. Baron, " she cried, with sudden courage, "Ah'd like to takecare of her, she's so little an' pretty. Ah don' min' hit a bit, Bud;truly Ah'm honin' to, " in unconscious confession of her previoustimidity. "You-all go long back with Bud, Mr. Baron, 'n Ah'll make hercomfortable. Will ye have yo' trunk in here, ma'am?"

To Hilda's answer, "Yes, if you please, " in faltering English, Melissacried, in ecstasy, --

"Don' she speak pretty! Now, Bud, you tote in the lady's trunk, 'n thengo. She's tired. " And the usually timid country girl entered into hernew _rôle_ of care-taker with extraordinary zest. 

Friedrich approached his sister-in-law. 

"Good-night, " he said. "You will be quite safe. Have no fear. "

She held out her hand to him. He hesitated a moment, and then took itin a brief clasp. 

"Good-night, " was all she said. 

Declining Bud's offer of shelter, von Rittenheim bade him farewell, andstrode into the darkness of the forest. Yarebrough looked after him, puzzled and disapproving. 

"He ain' none so glad to see his sister-in-law, " he pondered. "Ahwonner what hit all means. "

Friedrich took no heed of his way beyond a numb feeling of pleasurewhen it grew steeper and rougher. He had left the trail long since, buthe was stayed by no obstacle, was arrested by no barrier of Nature'smake. A lizard asleep on a tiny ledge of rock, jutting from a cliff, scuttled away in fright as a man in sudden onslaught scaled its face. Apair of cotton-tails bobbed from one thicket to another in wildestterror as he came breaking through. A trout, floating in a rocky basinof the brook, fled with a dexterous flip of fin and tail to theprotecting shelter of an overhanging root, as the placid pool wasagitated by the passage of an enemy, following the course of the streamas the path of least resistance. 

To all these sights and sounds Friedrich was blind and deaf. He spokeno word. It was as if he were deprived of every power but that ofmotion. He plunged on like a man of old pursued by the Erinyes. 

Though he was unconscious of fatigue, the mad pace began to tell onhim, and his muscles cried for quarter. At such times he rushed eitherto the right or left, going along the side of the mountain until hefound an easier upward passage, but always ascending, never turningdown the slope; always fleeing from the pursuing wretchedness; alwayssubtly conscious of the futility of flight. 

So mounts a small bird into the air, pursued by a hawk. Higher andhigher he flies, straight up into the blue, hoping that the wind mayblow him far beyond his pursuer's reach, believing that the lightatmosphere that suffices to support his frail body may be too tenuousto uphold his heavier enemy. Hoping thus and believing; but realizingat last the unequal contests between their strengths, the failing ofhis own force, the fateful, certain, deadly approach of the antagonistwhose power it is useless to oppose. 

One above the other two shelves of rock arose, like two steps of agiant's staircase. Friedrich's exhausted body sank upon the moss of theupper, and the bracken and small shrubs closed over him, as if toshield him in their gentle embrace from the trouble that had driven himto their care. He lay on his back, staring with unseeing eyes at thetree-leaves far above his head, black against the sky's purple. 

His mind seemed to be exhausted with his body. It moved with painfulslowness, and groped vaguely after the things of memory. 

Was it yesterday--when was it that he had seen Sydney moving about inthe yellow firelight? Had he not--yes, he was sure he had--led herunder the willow-trees and on to the old bridge, with the glisteringglory under their feet, and the moon in splendor above them? And hadshe given him--no, of course not--but yes, what was this? He pressed tohis lips the scrap of lace from his pocket. And there had been onesplendid hour of hope and strength and courage--one hour when the pasthad fallen away from him and the future opened to his sight a notimpassable avenue. 

The moon cast level shadows as the great planet rolled towards thewestern hills. Friedrich fancied himself in Germany, far back in thelong ago, when he was madly in love with Hilda. The story unfoldedbefore him like a panorama of some one else's life. It was, indeed, hewho had loved Hilda, but he felt not a flutter of the emotion now. _Now_ he knew what real love was. Yet this ardent, jealous lover washe, and she had jilted him for Maximilian. He went over again the oldarguments in her behalf. Why shouldn't she prefer Max--gay, handsomeold Max? He was nearer her age, and he had just had a legacy from hisAunt Brigitta, whose favorite he had been. Of course, that reason didnot count. But he was gay and handsome and younger. Surely those threeexcuses were enough. 

That wedding day! Should he ever forget it? He had thought to go away, but that would have been unkind to Max, and perhaps have put Hilda in awrong light in the eyes of those who knew them. No, he was the head ofthe family. His duty was to sit through the wedding-breakfast which heraunt gave to the bride, and to preside at the feast that welcomed thepair to Schloss Rittenheim. Though the old love could not enter himagain, the old torture came back poignantly. 

After the feast was over and the guests had gone, he had found himselfwith her in a recessed window, looking down upon a carriage rollingaway in the moonlight. He had taken her hands, and had compelled hergaze. She looked so fragile, so helpless, as he thought of hisbrother's carelessness and love of self, and he swore a solemn oath tostand ready to help her and to care for her, if ever need should be. Max, a little uncertain in speech and gait, had called her then, andFriedrich had ordered a horse, and had ridden recklessly into theforest--on and on and on. 

For a whole month he had endured the torture of greeting her calmlyevery morning, and of lifting her tiny white hand to his lips everynight, and then he had decided that there was no reason for suchcrucifixion, and he had come to America. 

And in America he had met the princess--the splendid princess!

The moon sank behind the mountains, and with its disappearanceFriedrich slept. 

XVIII

Business Plans

Through the early morning's shifting mist--the haze that foretells afine day--two men felt their way up the side of Buzzard Mountain. Theyfollowed no path, --indeed, there are few trails to follow, --but theyclimbed steadily on, as if they knew well their way, and as if speedwere of importance. 

With all their perseverance they could not cover much ground, for theascent is sharp enough to clutch the lungs, and the mist covered forthem a world of stumbling-blocks. 

"H'm, " grunted the leader, Pink Pressley. "They oughter be a black oakabout here with a varmint hole in hit. "

He stopped and peered about him through the gloom, while Bud, hiscompanion, took the opportunity to lay his burden upon the ground whilehe wiped his forehead with a blue handkerchief. He made no response tohis friend's remarks, but wore the air of one who does what he is bid, and follows where he is led. Pink swung himself into motion again. 

"Ah reckon we ain' high enough, yet, " he growled, and swore softly ashe struck his foot against an unseen stone. 

"Hang ye, don' do that, " he cried, angrily, as he heard the breaking ofa branch behind him. "Why don' ye blaze yo' way right along, or markyo' path with a rope? Do you wan' the whole settle-_ment_ follerin' usup here?"

With praiseworthy discretion Bud still refrained from speech. Aparticularly steep bit of climbing silenced his companion as well. Yarebrough was the first to discover the landmark. 

"Is that the black oak?" he asked. 

"Where?"

He pointed above them and a little to the right, to a veteran whoseside had been cut by hunters for the discomfiture of a 'coon or 'possumthat had taken refuge within. 

"Yep. "

They climbed to it, and both men set their heavy loads upon the ground. 

"Much further?" asked Bud. 

"No, come on. Sun'll be up soon 'n we'll be late gettin' down. "

Pressley pointed to the east, where a sort of inner glow seemed toilluminate the haze and make it thinner and more penetrable. Theyshouldered their packs and again Pink led the way. He advanced, now, with a certain care. From the tree he counted a hundred paces to theright, and called Bud's attention to the number. 

"That brings ye to this hickory--see?--with a rock under hit. Now, then, straight up from this is the place we's after, twenty-five steps, about; but hit's hard to tell, hit's so steep. "

He deposited his load upon a flat platform of rock, above which, at aheight of a dozen feet, the bank overhung. Under the bank was a hole, not clear enough to be called a cave, nor of any great size. Bud sankdown, gratefully, beside his leader, and scrutinized the place. 

"Not overly large, " he commented, "but Ah 'low hit 'll be right smartbigger when hit's cleaned out. "

"Hit is, " returned Pressley, laconically. He spoke with so muchdecision that Bud looked at him sharply. 

"You-all ain' ever----?" He hesitated. 

"Used hit before? Not much! Ah ain' a plumb fool! But they's nothinglike comin' from a fam'ly that's observin' an' contrivin'. "

A smile of self-appreciation swept over his face. 

"Ah've knowed about this place ever since Ah was fryin' size. In fact, mah father--well, never min' him. Only you'll fin' they's plenty o'room inside to stow away that rubbish an' all our little do-es beside. "

"Whereaway's the water?"

"They's a spring over yonder a little bit. "

Bud stared at the hole sullenly, and slowly scratched his head. Pressley, unlashing a mattock and shovel from his pack, did not noticehim. 

"Ah swear, Pink, " broke out Yarebrough, in puzzled indecision, "Ahswear Ah donno's Ah like this business. "

Pressley sneered. 

"Don' talk so loud. Yo' rather late findin' hit out. "

"No, Ah ain'. Ah ain' never been sho'. "

"Sho' 'bout what?"

"Oh, Ah donno. Kin' o' hard to say. You-all don' think we'll getcaught?"

"Not 'f you keep that big mouth o' yo's shut. "

"Mr. Baron did. "

"Mr. Baron's a fool. He trusted a stranger. "

"Hit'll kin'er make ye uneasy 'bout talkin' to fellers on the road, won' hit?" said Bud, who was the most sociable man in the settlement. 

"Hit'll sharpen yo' judg-_ment_. The way you-all go on now you ain' furoff Mr. Baron fo' never suspectin' nobody. "

It was this very quality in Bud that was playing into Pink's hands. Yarebrough, however, felt properly rebuked. 

"Ah ain' had yo' experience, ye know. Ah never see but one marshal toknow him. "

"When ye do see one, an' yo' sho', never forget him. Hit's the onlyway. Here, take this mattock 'n pull those small rocks out, 'n pile 'emon this crocus-sack so's they won' make any trash on this-yerplatform. "

Bud did as he was bid, and the men worked quietly and steadily for tenminutes. 

"Here she is, " Pink whispered, at last, and peered excitedly into thecavern. 

It was, as he had said, not very large, but large enough. 

"Now pick up that sack with me an' tote hit in here. We mus'n' leaveanythin' roun'. Here, this corner 'll do. Now bring me in that pipe 'nthe little keg. We c'n leave all the tools here _ex_-ceptin' our axes. Axes looks well 'f we meet anybody goin' down. "

"H'm, " grunted Yarebrough once more, and scratched his head again. Hestepped out of the cave on to the platform that Nature's hand had laid. The brightening light indicated the approach of dawn, though the sunhad not yet risen. The mist was not dispelled, but it had grownthinner, and trees at some distance down the mountain began to haveindividual shape through the veil of dry haze that inwrapped them. Theair was cool and sweet. The birds were singing, though still sleepily, but one in a tree over his head burst into a glorious heralding of themorning. Bud thrust his hands into his pockets and whistled softly. Pink roused him roughly from his reverie. 

"Come, boy, we gotter fix up this yer openin' somehow. "

Bud answered irrelevantly:

"Ah wisht Ah was certain about M'lissy. "

Pressley let fly the bush that he was bending across the mouth of thecave. 

"What about her?" he asked, sharply. 

"Oh, everythin'!"

Explanation was difficult to his slowness of thought. 

"She'll be wonderin' what takes me away from home so much at night; an'Ah don' much like to leave her alone, neither. "

"Cain' ye trust her?" jeered Pink, with an evil scowl, but Bud turnedon him so fiercely that he added, hastily, --"to keep still if ye tellher?"

"Tell her? Tell M'lissy! Ah wouldn' tell her fo' a good deal! You-alldon' know M'lissy. "

"She'd jump ye, Ah reckon. "

"No, Ah don' allow she'd say much. The way hit is, ye see, M'lissy, --hit's foolish 'f her, --but M'lissy kinder thinks Ah ain' aright bad feller, an' Ah sorter hate to disabuse her min' o' thatopinion. "

"She mus' know you-all drinks. "

"Yes, Ah 'low she do. "

"An' ye play craps. "

"Oh, well, that ain' anythin'. "

"An' ye fight chickens. "

"Of co'se; everybody does that. "

"'N you've killed paddidges befo' the law was off. "

"Who hasn'?"

"If she knows all those things she sho' cain' think yo' a plumb angel. "

"Ah don' s'pose she's lookin' fo' wings. All the same, Ah do hate tohave her know Ah'm about to do this. "

"Oh, this is all right. She don' know yo' in debt an' need the money. "

"No, she don'. "

"Would that worry her?"

"Ah reckon hit would, specially if----"

"If what?"

"You seem powerful eager to know what'll worry M'lissy. "

"If ye don' know what worries people ye cain' know how to help 'em. "Pink was suavity itself. "If what?"

"Ah was goin' to say, specially 'f she knowed it was you-all Ah owedhit to. "

"Lemme tell ye somethin' right now, Bud: M'lissy wouldn' fin' everybodyclever 'nough to len' money to a no-'count feller like you. She betterlike me 'f she don'. "

"She don' know hit, ye see. 'N she never shall 'f Ah c'n help hit. "

Pressley grunted and seemed to reflect. Then he shook his head andmuttered to himself. 

"Hit might spoil the other. "

"What ye say?" asked Bud. 

"Nothin'. Ah'm studyin' 'bout fixin' a sort o' do' fo' here, so's thelight won' shine out none when we-uns is workin'. "

"Where's the smoke goin' to?"

"They's a split in that upper rock, fur back, we c'n run a bit o' pipethrough. Leastways, they was when Ah was a kid. "

"'N 's they ain' been no _con_-vulsion o' nature since that happy time, you 'low hit's still there. "

"May be filled up; 'twan' overly big. But that's easy fixed. "

"Say, Pink, don' you think we'd make any money--jus' as much money--'fwe paid the tax, 'n could retail openly?"

"Paid the tax? Paid---- Fo' the Lawd's sakes! Pink Pressley payin' thegover'men' tax!"

He gave a great burst of laughter, which he quickly strangled, lookingabout suspiciously, and shook and shook with suppressed mirth. Budstared at him seriously, and with some offence. 

"Ah don' see nothin' e'er so ludicrous about that suggestion. "

"Oh, Lawd!" Pink was rocking gently from side to side. "You don'? Jus'look yere, then. Have you-all got twenty-five dollars to pay theFederal gover'men' fo' this privilege? 'N fifty to pay the State? 'Nfifty to pay the county? 'F you got a hundred 'n twenty-five dollars tospen' so free, Ah'd like to see hit!"

Bud rubbed his head and said nothing. 

"'N who'd ye get to go on yo' bond? Mrs. Carroll 'n Miss Sydney, Ahs'pose! Oh, dear!"

Again he laughed, soundlessly. 

"If ye go into hit so expensive, ye gotter have the plant to do a bigbusiness, 'n where'd ye get that? 'N ye'd have to get mo' co'n 'n you'n me c'n make ourselves, 'n that'd mean ye gotter buy hit, or rent mo'lan' 'n hire niggers to work hit, 'n how'd ye pay fo' that?"

Bud listened gloomily, chewing the side of his finger. 

"Them gover'men' fellers cain' make nothin', " went on Pink. "Firs'place they's co'n at fifty cen's a bushel. One bushel o' co'n makesabout two gallons o' whisky; they's an _ex_-pense o' nigh twenty-fivecen's a gallon to begin with. Then the gauger comes 'roun', 'n ye haveto pay a tax on all he's smart enough to fin', --a dollar 'n ten cen's agallon. They's a dollar 'n thirty-five cen's a gallon befo' the stuff'slef' yo' sto'house. 'N what payin' market c'n ye fin' fo' hit when anyfeller who wan's c'n get all the moonshine he needs fo' a dollar or adollar 'n a quarter a gallon? Oh, Ah tell you, 'f ye wan' to make anymoney with a gover'men' still ye gotter have a switch-off that thegauger cain' fin. 'N 'f ye do that, ye might's well's, far's yo' moralsis concerned, do hit all moonshine 'n save those ex-penses Ah listedfo' ye right now. "

"Ah s'pose yo' right, " assented Bud. "Blockadin's blockadin', whetherye do hit by moon or day. Do you-all 'low Calkins might inform on us?"

"Him's runs the still back o' Buck? Ah don' guess so. He knows Ah couldtell the sto'keeper the whereabouts o' a pipe in his still-house thatdon' run into no sto'house. Oh, no, he won' inform on us. "

"Ah hope not, " said Bud, dismally. "Anyway, you-all better come on downnow. Gimme that axe, will ye?"

"We gotter be right careful not to make no path comin' here. We betternever come twict the same way. "

Bud nodded his understanding. 

"Come on, " he urged. "Ah'm's empty 's a gun. "

XIX

Hilda

Pink roses and red swung to and fro in the sunshine as they climbed theDoctor's whitewashed porch. Big bees hummed their sleepy drone from thefragrant hearts of the flowers, and a humming-bird whirred busily inand out in search of the honeysuckle that he loved. Up-stairs Mrs. Morgan was darning stockings in the coolest room in the house, --abedroom with a northern exposure. A white shirt-waist gave a puffy lookto a body that could ill endure such appearance of enlargement, and ablack belt accentuated the amplitude of girth that it encircled. Thegood lady sat in an armless rocking-chair, or rather _on_ it, for shewas by no means contained therein, but bulged over and beyond at allpoints. Her feet, shod in heelless black slippers, above which puffedwhite stockings, rested upon a low footstool, and her widespread kneesprovided a generous lap for the support of her supply of socks and herimplements, --her needle-book' and darning-gourd and balls of cotton. She had that look of comfort that fat people seem to radiate even whenit is evident that physical annoyance is their own share. 

[Illustration: "Pink roses and red swung to and fro in the sunshine asthey climbed the doctor's whitewashed porch"]

Discomfort had no part in the picture that Mrs. Morgan presented, however, for a cool breeze gently ruffled her hair, and her eyes, whenshe lifted them from her work, rested contentedly on the fertile fieldsof the Doctor's farm, which were thriving, under Bob's management. Shenodded with, pursed-up lips, as she wove her little lattices in heeland toe. 

"He's doing better than ever Ah thought he would, " she murmured. "Better, even, than Ah dared to hope, --thank God!"

Up and down, over and under, in and out went her needle. 

"It's such a joy to Henry to have him so. "

The scissors snipped a thread at the end of a darn, and a new holedisplayed its ravage over the yellow surface of the gourd. 

"It's been going on some months now, bless him! Ah'd like to know howhe started in. Ah believe mahself it's Sydney. "

The work sank into her lap for a space, while her shrewd eyes roamedover the fields, and sought Buck Mountain beyond, thrusting its topmostclump of chestnut-trees against the sky. She nodded to her thoughts asshe picked up the unfinished sock. 

"She's a wise mother who knows where her son ties his horse, and Ahconfess Ah haven't always known, but it strikes me it's mostly theOakwood hitching-post. "

She smiled at her own sagacity. 

"Not that Sydney'd have him. Though she might do a great deal worse, agreat deal worse, " she added, loyally. "But he cares for her enough towant to please her, and it takes the best to satisfy Sydney. "

A step on the stairs outside made itself heard. 

"Come in, dear. Ah was just thinking about you. "

Bob flung his cap on the bed, sat down on a cricket beside his mother, and leaned his head against her shoulder. 

"Tired, dear?"

"No, just hot. I've been over every field on the farm since breakfast. "

"In all this sun!"

"Do you think it ought to cease to shine to shade your boy? There'll bea right smart crop this year. "

"So your father was telling me yesterday. "

"I've got better hands than usual. "

"And they have a better overseer. "

She let fall the stocking from her left hand and patted the shock ofblack hair resting on her shoulder. Silence fell between them--theembarrassment that comes from the broaching of a delicate subject. 

"It's hard work, " he sighed, and her mother-love knew that he did notrefer to the management of the farm. 

"We all have our dragons to fight, and yours is one of the hardestkind. Ah'm sure he's growing weaker, though. "

"But he's still in the ring, " groaned Bob, with a comical look, andthey laughed in sympathy. 

"I ought to have begun on him long years ago for your sake, ma dear, but--it wasn't you!" he blurted out, and hastened to kiss her, lest shebe offended. 

She could not help just a little sigh. 

"It's what happens to most mothers, and we are thankful for the result, and put our vanity into our pocket. "

"I don't want you to suppose that I'm such a puppy as to believe thatshe--you know who--cares for me--that way, you know. But I happened tothink one day when--well, never mind what happened--I just thought thatwhile she might never care anyway, she was dead sure not to if I wenton being the kind of thing I was. "

"True, dear, and even if she never did, "--how she longed to give himhope, as she had given him every toy he asked for in his baby days! Butwisdom came to her now, and love gave her strength, --"even if she neverdid, the victory would still be a victory. "

"And you'd care, anyway. Oh, mothers are good things! Do you mind mytelling you-all this?"

He was sitting before her now, with his elbows on his knees and hischin in his hands. She leaned forward and kissed him. 

"You've given me the greatest happiness Ah've known for years, dear. "

He pulled at the stockings in her lap. 

"I don't think I've had much show lately, do you?"

"You mean----?"

"Oh, well, I reckon I don't mean anything. It's all in the game. There's father, " as a cry of "O-oh, Sophy!" was heard below. "Sophy'sup here in the north room, dad, " he called, eliciting from his motherthe expected--

"You impertinent boy!"

The Doctor came in, bringing with him an air of excitement that madeBob cry, --

"What's up?"

Mrs. Morgan laid down her half-darned sock in anticipation. 

"You never can guess the latest development. "

"Ah've no desire to, Henry. Ah'd rather hear it at once. "

"Who do you think's come?"

"Where?"

"To the Neighborhood. "

"Henry, don't be so aggravating! Why don't you-all tell what you've gotto tell, if you _have_ got anything to tell. "

This sarcasm drove on the Doctor to disclosure. 

"Baron von Rittenheim's sister-in-law. "

"His sister-in-law!" cried Bob. 

"What in the world will he do with her in that cabin of his?"ejaculated Mrs. Morgan. 

"Is she pretty?" This from Bob. 

The Doctor was quite satisfied with the sensation he had aroused, andsat down to tell his story comfortably. 

"Ah've just come from Oakwood, and Sydney told me. It seems she turnedup last night after the Baron got home from the picnic; drove out fromAsheville. He had to go and get Melissa Yarebrough to come and lookafter her. "

"He wasn't expecting her, then?"

"Sydney says no. Of course he couldn't ask visitors to that shack ofhis. "

"Ah suppose she hadn't any idea he was living that-a-way. "

"Ah reckon not. She's his brother Maximilian's wife, or widow, rather, for she brought him the news of his brother's death. Sydney says he wasquite broken up about it when he came over soon this morning to askMrs. Carroll if she would take her in. The old lady'd gone to fetch herwhen Ah got there. "

"Did you wait?"

"You bet!"

"Is she pretty?" Bob asked again, with some insistence. Perhaps theBaron--how could he, though? But there was at least a chance of hisfalling in love with his own countrywoman. 

"Pretty? I should say so! She looks like a lovely child, or an angel ona Christmas card, or something. Oh, you needn't grin. She won't look atyou!"

"Saving all her looks for you, I suppose! Can she speak English?"

"Yes; but not enough to hurt anything. You'd ought to have seen her runup to Sydney, just like a little girl, and cry out, 'Oh, I thank youfor that you have been so kind, every one, to my dear Friedrich!'"

"How did Sydney take that?" Mrs. Morgan could not resist a glance ather son. 

"Oh, Sydney always does everything all right. "

"What did she say to you, dad?"

"Oh, something about Friedrich telling her that Mrs. Carroll and Ahwere his best friends. "

"How long's she going to stay?"

"Ah don't know. Ah came away right off. "

At Oakwood Baroness Hilda von Rittenheim's coming partook of the natureof an event. Sydney, who never had happened to hear even her namementioned, went about during the time of her grandmother's absence in astate of agreeable anticipation. She was curious to see this unexpectedarrival, and she took pleasure in arranging flowers in her room, and inshading the windows to produce the most desirable light. 

"It will please him, " she thought, "for us to be nice to her. Poorthing, she's lost all she cared for in the world; everybody ought to benice to her. " And she thought how happy she was herself, and resolvedto be as kind as she knew how to be to the new-comer. 

Sydney had a strong reluctance to face emotional or spiritual crises, and not even after her conversation on the bridge did she acknowledgeto herself that von Rittenheim loved her, or that she cared for him. She was content to feel the glow that warmed her when she knew that shewas the princess of his fable, and not to analyze her own feelingfurther, or to posit in him more than admiration. 

Americans usually think of German women as fat and affectionate, or, ifthey are extremists, as "fit only to propagate their own undesirablerace. " Sydney formulated no idea of Hilda's appearance, but she foundherself none the less surprised when she and Dr. Morgan watched fromthe window the tiny figure in its black robes, descending from thecarriage. 

"Why, the Baron said she was twenty-five, but she doesn't look anyolder than I do, " she cried, and she flew down the steps to welcomeher. 

Hilda's little speech of thanks was natural and pretty, and Sydneyliked her at once because she liked Friedrich. Katrina was delightedwith her. Tom declared that he could listen to that accent forever, andJohn went into absurd raptures that were more serious than theysounded. Even Mrs. Carroll, usually not enthusiastic, granted her to be"Pretty? Yes, even lovely. And charming? Very. "

Hilda must have felt herself to be under scrutiny during the day, yetshe betrayed no knowledge of it. Her behavior was perfect. Severaltimes she alluded to Max. 

"Poor Max! The shock of his death was to me severe. Have I knownFriedrich long? Oh, yes, indeed. Before ever I met Maximilian. I wasliving with my aunt in Heidelberg when he was at the University. I wasa little girl then. Ah, yes, Friedrich always was _nett_ to me, even sobefore Max. Yes, always shall I love Friedrich. "

It occurred to Sydney that there was a shade too much insistence onthis mutual affection, but she berated herself for a "jealous piece, "and ordered Uncle Jimmy to bring out on the lawn coffee as well as tea, in deference to her guest's probable predilection. 

"Yes, dear Frau Carroll, " said Hilda, in answer to a question. "Indeed, have I much to talk with him. He comes this evening to see me. I havemuch to tell him and to hear from him. "

Over her cup she glanced shrewdly at Sydney, who was enraged to feelherself blushing. 

When Baron von Rittenheim appeared in the evening, Sydney and theSchuylers and John were just starting for the Hugers' dance. 

"Surely you will go, " the little Baroness had said, "and you will notthink of me one time. "

"You ask too much, " murmured John. 

She glanced at her mourning with a look that might have meant yearningfor Max, or a desire to go to the ball. 

Then she raised her eyes to Friedrich's, and Sydney was surprised tosee a look of anger sweep over her childish face. Seeking its cause shefound von Rittenheim's eyes fixed on herself, so full of love andlonging and sadness that her one wish was to comfort him. Involuntarilyshe took a step towards him, and held out her hands. Then sheremembered herself, and swept him a low courtesy, as if in thanks forthe admiration of his gaze. 

"You like my frock, M. Le Baron?" she asked. 

Von Rittenheim's eyes went to the fluffy white mass lying on the floor, and rose again to her face. 

"He's speechless with rapture, Sydney, " said John. 

"I am, indeed, " said Friedrich, bowing with his hand on his heart. 

"Then come on, Sydney, and let language flow once more. " And Tomdexterously threw her cape over her shoulders. 

"See that? I've learned to do that really well since I was married. I've been practising in private. Mrs. Schuyler, allow me. " And herepeated his performance and swept his flock before him to the door. 

XX

Sacrifice

"I know that you two have much to say to each other, " said Mrs. Carroll, when the noise of departing wheels had died away. "Ring thebell, Baron, please, and tell James to light the lamp in the littlesitting-room. And in considering your plans, let me beg both of you toremember that it will be a pleasure to us all if the Baroness will stayat Oakwood as long as she wishes. "

Hilda ran to the elder woman in her childish, impulsive way, andthanked her with many little German phrases of gratitude. VonRittenheim raised her hand to his lips and murmured, --

"You make my decision easier, dear lady. "

In the little sitting-room Hilda established herself in a hugearm-chair, whose high back cast a shadow on her face, and Friedrich, atthe window, drew in great breaths of sweet summer air. He turned to herwhen Uncle Jimmy had gone. 

"First tell me about Max. "

"Yes, I must tell you about Max. I am afraid it will be an added griefto you to know that Max----"

"What is it?" he asked, sharply and apprehensively, as she hesitated. How familiar to him was that feeling of apprehension about his brother. Hilda was sitting erect in the big chair, looking at him fixedly. 

"Max--shot himself. "

"My God! Shot himself! Poor girl!"

The expression on Hilda's face changed to one of relief--almost of joy. After all, his first thought had been for her. 

"Why did he--how did it happen?"

"He had had troubles----"

"Money?"

She nodded. 

"I think they distressed him more than usual. And he was--he wasn'tquite himself. "

Von Rittenheim stared persistently out of the window, his face almostentirely turned away from her. He lost not a word of what she said, andat the same time there ran through his mind memories of their boyhooddays together, and of their adventures at the gymnasium and theuniversity. Then their rivalry over Hilda. With what careless easeMaximilian had won her away from his brother, just for the pleasure ofvictory. He felt again a dash of the old bitterness. 

"You mean he was drunk?" he asked, bluntly. 

She raised her tiny hands before her face as if she were warding off ablow. Friedrich hardly could hear her "Yes. "

Her action suggested an idea to von Rittenheim. 

"Tell me, Hilda. " He stammered over the question. "Did he--did Max everstrike you?"

Without a word Hilda pushed back the hair that fell over her foreheadat one side, and showed, close to the roots, a scar. 

Friedrich gazed at her in horror. 

"You poor, poor girl!"

Again the glow of satisfaction warmed her face. 

"Where was he when he--when he died?"

"At the Schloss--in my dressing-room. "

"You were there?"

"My dress was wet with his blood. "

Over Friedrich there rushed man's protective feeling, the desire toshield a woman from pain; his own yearning of not so many months ago, to fend this one fragile creature from the world. He drew nearer toher, and she leaned back in her chair and looked up at him out of theshadow. 

"I could not bear to live at the Schloss any longer--there werehorrible memories, and I was alone; I told you my aunt had died. Youknow she was my only relative. "

Von Rittenheim knew. It was at her aunt's house in Heidelberg that hehad met Hilda. 

"Then Maximilian had told me that we could not live in the Schloss ifyou did not supply the money to carry it on. After he died I could notfeel myself indebted for that to you when I had treated you so badly. "

She hung her head. Von Rittenheim made a gesture of polite dissent, andwalked again to the window. 

"You always had enough money, I hope?"

"No sum ever was large enough for Max. " They both smiled. "But a pieceof great good fortune came to me just after you went away. "

Von Rittenheim turned again to the window and betrayed someembarrassment, but Hilda was intent upon her story, and noticednothing. 

"Some of the investments into which my dowry had been put appreciatedenormously in value. "

So that was the way Herr Stapfer had explained it. Friedrich noddedapprovingly. 

"So I always had enough for my needs, even when----"

"When what?"

"Forgive me. I did not mean to say it. "

"You were going to say, 'Even when Maximilian took it?'"

She hung her head again, like a sorry child. He noticed how her neckand arms shone white through the thin black of her gown. 

"After all, you are his brother. Perhaps I should tell you. At theend--it was because of that that he shot himself, poor Max! He came tome in my room and asked me for money, and I told him I had none. Indeed, he had taken the last I had a few days before. He did notbelieve me, and he threatened to shoot himself if I did not give it tohim. "

"Coward!"

"Of course, I did not think that it was more than--excitement. Howcould I believe that he was in earnest? But he kept crying, 'Give itup, give it up!' The servants heard him. And then----"

Friedrich crossed quickly to her and leaned over the chair as she satwith her face buried in her handkerchief. 

"Hilda, it seems to me no woman ever needed pity and comfort more thanyou. You have come many thousands of miles to claim it from me, and Iwill not fail you. You reminded me last night of my oath to you. Irepeat it now. My life is at your service if it can bring youhappiness. "

The words sounded forced and stilted to his ears, even while he pressedthe little white hand that she put out blindly towards him. He was notsorry for his pledge; he felt that he could have done no less; butSydney's proud, earnest face flashed before him, and his memory saw itsoften and flush with the happy shyness that covered it when she gavehim her handkerchief, --and he wondered to what extent Hilda wouldconsider that his promise bound him. 

A few days made it clear that he had committed himself to no mere formof words. She received the admiration of every man in the Neighborhood. Patton McRae's elastic heart added another to its list of occupants, and John Wendell fell seriously in love with her. But always in theforeground she placed von Rittenheim. It was not alone that she lookedfor his coming, and monopolized him when he arrived; that she deferredto him, and did half a hundred tell-tale things; but in some way, by ahint here and a phrase there, she made every one understand how it hadbeen with them in the past, --how madly he had loved her; how foolishshe had been to break the engagement; how worse than foolish, for shehad broken his great, noble heart, too. But, now--with a pretty sighand an appealing look--now was her opportunity to remedy the harm shehad done. When one or two of the bolder ones hinted at an engagement, she denied it, with a rebuking glance at her black gown, herfascinating, floating diaphanous black gown. Still, it became evidentto every one that when a proper time had elapsed after Maximilian'sdeath, her consolation would be even more remedial. 

John haunted her steps, and left her only when the Baron came. Then hedisappeared until his rival's departure. Sydney grew distant in mannerto von Rittenheim, and often he did not see her at all when he went toOakwood. Hilda's visit to Mrs. Carroll was prolonged on the ground thatseemed to have place in every one's mind, though no one could trace itsorigin, that she would stay on near Friedrich until it was time to gohome to Germany to begin her wedding preparations, --say, until afterChristmas, --and that they would be married as soon as the year ofmourning was over. 

"It would be disgracefully soon if her husband had been a good man, ofcourse, but he was such a beast!" And a shrug made all the necessarycondonement for the hastening of the marriage. 

By September the whole neighborhood was converted to this belief, allexcept John, who _would_ not believe, and Sydney, who had not trustedherself to think. 

The compulsion of thought seized her in her own room one night, after aday when it had been forced upon her that there could be but one truth, and that the conclusion to which her friends had come. From window towindow she walked, dragging her trailing draperies, softly blue in themoonlight. She was fretted into constant motion by the impelling mightof a desire to do something that would put off the moment when she muststop and think out the situation. She tried to divert her fancy to thechannels of her daily life. She decided what colts should be brokennext summer. She devised a new plan for keeping Bob employed and happywhen the dull days of winter should come. She endeavored to be gratefulthat her grandmother was less harassed by pain than usual. Yet throughall wreathed the insistent cry, "Face it. You must face it. "

That compelling threat she knows who recognizes that the one dearest toher on earth must die. It commands the scrutiny of facts, and an end tothe glossing of truth. It rings the knell of hope. Later comes thesustaining reflection of the future life, --its opportunities for workand its attendant happiness for him who enters upon it. But now isself's confrontment with loneliness, with sorrow, with despair. 

The cry became insistent in Sydney's ears. Face it she must. 

She stepped through the long window upon the balcony which commandedwest and south. The moon swam cold in the steel-blue sky. The ribbon oflow-lying mist betrayed the devious winding of the creek. On thehorizon swung the gray masses of the mountains, their hardness veiledin the tender light of distance. Sydney fell on her knees and twistedher hands one within the other. She spoke in a whisper. 

"I cannot bear it! I cannot bear it! Oh, I cannot bear it!" sherepeated over and over. 

Then stung to openness by the lash of the constant inward cry--

"I love him! Oh, I love him! Oh, I cannot bear it!" she moaned yetagain. 

She rocked to and fro upon her knees, and hid her face in her hands toshut out the glory of beauty and calm that lay before and around her. 

"I never thought that love would be like this. To feel it--to be sureof it--and to have to give him to another woman!" She began to cryweakly. 

The moon flooded the gallery with its light. A diamond on one ofSydney's clasped hands winked as gayly as if a tragedy were not fillingthe girl's heart. Then oft-read words came to her lips:

"Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing more courageous, nothing higher;nothing wider, nothing more pleasant; nothing fuller nor better inheaven and earth. "

"For it carries a burden which is no burden, and makes everything thatis bitter sweet and savory. "

"He that loveth flieth, runneth and rejoiceth; he is free and is notbound. "

"He giveth all for all. "

"He giveth all for all. " She repeated it again and again. 

She had, indeed, dreamed of a love for which sacrifice should be a joy. But that this should be the kind of sacrifice! Even through herwretchedness the humor of it penetrated, and a woe-begone smilefluttered over her lips. 

The singing words came to her again. 

"Let me be possessed by love, mounting above myself. "

"Let me love thee more than myself, and love myself only for thee. "

She kneeled upright and rested her folded arms upon the railing. Peaceseemed to be flowing in upon her, and a purpose grew into form withinher mind. With increasing control she rose to her feet. 

"If my love is worth anything it can do even that. "

Her uplifted face shone strong and beautiful as she left the splendorwithout, and knelt beside her bed. 

"O God, I thank thee that thou hast granted me the power to love. Helpme now, I implore thee, to make use of this, my dearest treasure, forthe joy of others. "

XXI

A Poke Party

Friedrich was sitting at his solitary breakfast. He had grown expert inthe daily preparation of bacon, eggs, cornbread, and coffee; but thatis a poor feast which is denied the sauce of companionship, and hedallied with his spoon, while he stared gloomily through the open door. The jaded green of the late September foliage harmonized with his moodof depression. 

He went to Oakwood now only so often as courteous attention to hissister-in-law--poor little girl!--seemed to demand. Sydney avoided him;and John, who still lingered, although the Schuylers had gone northlong before, gave him the black looks of a jealous rival. Hilda, thoughnever assuming before him the part of betrothed which every oneassigned to her, nevertheless made him feel the bond by which he hadengaged himself, --a net as fine as silk and as strong as steel; anenmeshment of chivalry and sympathy and love for his good word. 

He made his new business the excuse for his infrequent visits. It wasno subterfuge, for even in the short period of two months the "McRaeCattle" were earning encomiums, from those who knew stock, for theirgood condition and the flavor of their beef. Both on the Baron's placeand at Cotswold long shelter-sheds were being erected for winterprotection; and at Cotswold, whose larger size warranted theestablishment of a more extensive plant, the firm had put in a smallstationary engine to cut the feed, and was building a silo for thepreservation of the winter supplies. A dehorning machine, which causeda moment of present torture for the sake of months of future peace, served an additional purpose as an advertisement. Farmers came from farback in the mountains to see the inhuman weapon, and incidentallybrought along a calf or two to sell as an excuse for their waste oftime. Their denunciations sent more of the curious, who were notdeterred by motives of tenderness from submitting their creatures tothe operation, provided they received a good price. 

When Hilda had discovered her brother-in-law's straitened circumstancesshe had offered to him a part of her income, deploring his evidentpoverty with real distress of voice and manner. 

"I don't understand why it is so, --you are not extravagant, likeMax, --but I can see the fact plainly enough, and I beg you to take it, dear Friedrich. "

Friedrich kissed her hand in gratitude, but refused, explaining that hehad enough capital for the undertaking of his business venture, andthat his personal wants were of the simplest. 

"But your house, Friedrich. It is not fitting that a von Rittenheimshould live in a cabin like that. "

[Illustration: "It is not fitting that a von rittenheim should live ina cabin like that"]

"Man makes the house, Hilda, and I don't feel that my dignity is hurt. I am comfortable, and that is all that is necessary. "

He happened to think of this conversation as he drank the last of hiscoffee, and he realized that Hilda's offer was another of the tinythreads that linked him to her. He thought how true it was now that, solong as he could make his living out of his new business, he carednothing for the roof that sheltered him; while on that golden night ofhappiness when Sydney and he had watched the river flow under thebridge, he had been glad of his new prosperity because he could buildfor _her_ a house such as she should fancy. 

He did not allow himself to think often of Sydney. He was glad that hehad had the strength to refrain from asking her to be his wife until hehad something more substantial than his name to offer her. It relievedsomewhat the present situation. Yet her avoidance of him he couldconstrue only as contempt for a man who had played with her while boundby other ties. Sometimes he felt that he must explain to her howintangible were those bonds. Yet he was sufficiently conscious of theiractual existence to feel that the difficulties of explanation werealmost insurmountable. And Hilda, poor child, took his devotionentirely for granted. 

His thoughts were leading him in a circle, and it was a relief whenMelissa appeared in the doorway. He sprang up to welcome her. 

"Come in, Mrs. Yare-brough. How do you do?"

"Ah'm well, thank ye. How are you?" returned Melissa, in the politeformula of her kind. 

"Won't you have a cup of coffee?"

"No, Ah thank you. How's Mrs. Baron?"

"Mrs. Baron? Oh! She was very well the last time I was at Oakwood. Sheasks fr-requently for you and the baby. "

"Mrs. Baron's so sweet! Ah never 'lowed to like anybody's much's MissSydney, but Mrs. Baron's jus' splendid. "

With a woman's care-taking instinct, she began to gather together thedishes on the table and prepare them for washing. 

"No, let me, " she said, in response to von Rittenheim's objection. "Jus' while Ah'm talkin'. Ah stopped by to tell ye that Ah'm goin' tohave a party to-night, an' Ah'd be proud to have you-all come to hit. "

Her interest in him was so evident, and her desire to give him pleasureso real, that Friedrich responded, heartily, --

"Certainly, I shall go. It will give me delight. It is kind of you toask me. "

Melissa turned away, and rattled the knives and forks in gratifiedembarrassment. 

"Hit's goin' to be to mother's 'cos her house is larger. You know wherehit is?"

"Yes, indeed. Is it a dance?"

"Hit's a poke party, but there'll be dancin', too. "

"A poke party! What is that?"

"Don't you-all know what a poke party is?"

"Poke? That is what I do with my finger at the baby. "

Melissa laughed aloud. 

"You wait 'n see, then. Ah reckon hit'll be a surprise party fo' you aswell as a poke party. "

It was clear that Melissa had imparted to her friends the Baron's guessas to the probable nature of a poke party, for he was greeted withbroad smiles as he made his way through the crowd of men and boys aboutMrs. Lance's door into the room where dancing was going on. Melissacame to him and proposed a seat beside Mrs. 'Gene Frady until thecotillon should be ended, but von Rittenheim preferred to go about theroom as dexterously as he might in avoidance of the dancers, speakingto his acquaintances among the women and girls who lined its walls. There was space upon the floor for only two sets, and the lookers-ongossiped patiently, until such time as Alf Lance, the fiddler, shouldgrow weary and let fall his bow. 

"They's fo' blue waistes here to-night. Ollie Warson looks mahty sweetin her's. "

"Do you think so? Hit seems like she favored her paw too much. "

"Well, Bill Warson 'lows that if they's any good looks in the family, they come from him. "

"Maw, you-all got a hairpin? Give hit to me next time I turn co'ners. "

"Look at Evvie Williams! She always gets a seat nex' the window, so'sshe c'n talk to some feller out o' hit. "

"Ah did, too, when Ah was that age. "

"Yes, Ah remember you did. Ah don' guess Hamp Pinner's goin' to dancewith Ollie tonight. "

"Yes, he is. He jus' ast her in through the window. "

"Sh, sh, sh. Will you hush yo' fuss!"

"Ah'm well, thank ye, Mr. Baron. How are you?"

"Look at Drusilla Pinner cross her feet, an' her a church-member, too!"

"Ah been lookin'. She's awful careless about her dancin'. "

"This child'll have to go to bed in the other room. He's yellin' jus'tur'ble. "

"Ah 'low M'lissy 'll make some money out o' this. They's right smarthere. "

Von Rittenheim made his rounds and joined the group of men at the door. They received him pleasantly, for he was a favorite among them. Indeed, since his misfortune in the spring he had noticed an added warmth intheir attitude, and a certain intimacy of approach. As he talked tothem the music stopped abruptly, and with its last note he foundhimself alone, for the youths about him had precipitated themselvesinto the room to secure their partners for the next cotillon. Theenterprising Hamp came in through the window, by which port of entrythe orchestra departed in search of the reviving pail on the backporch. 

Melissa came timidly to von Rittenheim. 

"Won't you-all dance this nex' one, Mr. Baron? Ah'll get ye a partner. "

"I fear I should make too many mistakes. I do not understand wellenough English to know quickly what says the director. "

"Oh, yo' partner 'll tell ye all that. "

"Then, if you will be that partner, will I try. "

"Oh, no. Hit looks like Ah'd been askin' you. "

"But no, Mrs. Yare-brough, for I would not tr-rust myself to the careof anybody whom I knew less well. "

"Truly? Then we'll stand here?" And Friedrich, looking at her beamingface, did not regret the effort. 

The other participants in the cotillon gained no praise from thespectators, for every eye was upon their unexpected guest. Theyapplauded his successes and smiled encouragingly upon his mistakes. They admired his good looks in pleased undertones, and secretly urgedAlf to prolong the dance and their pleasure until it seemed toFriedrich that he had been on the floor for hours. 

When at last the music stopped, Bud's voice was heard calling, loudly, --

"Come in yere, boys, 'n get yo' pokes. "

The girls found seats for themselves, while the men crowded into theother room. 

"Hit's supper, " said Melissa, giving Friedrich a little shove towardsthe door. "You'll see now. "

"May I have the honor of bringing yours to you?"

"No, Ah thank ye, Mr. Baron. Ah always eats mine with Bud. But you-allgo in an' get some, an' you'll fin' somebody to eat hit with when yecome back. "

In the other room the men crowded before a table upon which were piledpaper bags of different sizes. Each man was taking two, one for himselfand one for his partner. 

"This size poke is ten cents, " insisted Bud, in the uproar, "'n thissize is fifteen. They's good things in 'em all. The quality's the same, hit's the quantity makes the difference. Yes, they's devil hamsan'wich. Ah know they is, 'cos Ah cut mah finger openin' a can fo'M'lissy this mo'nin'. Yes, they's cake, too. You, Hamp, that size isfifteen!"

As Friedrich approached, a laugh went up at the expense of 'Gene Frady, who had taken a bag of each size. 

"Watch out which one 'Gene gives his wife, " cried Bud, sarcastically. 

The babies on the bed, four of them, were aroused by the noise, andjoined their voices thereto. Three older children, who were sleepingrosily under the covers, slumbered on peacefully. 

"One poke, or two, Mr. Baron? Ah'm proud to see you-all here, " saidBud. 

"A poke is a bag, eh? Give me two pokes, if you please, Bud. Yes, thelarge ones. "

Returning to the dancing-room, he made his way to Mrs. Lance, Melissa'smother, who was sitting near the window. She was flattered into silenceby the attention of the offered poke, and they ate the contents oftheir bags with solemnity. 

A figure moving in the dim light outside attracted Friedrich'sattention. He put his head out of the window. The man came directlybeneath, and looked up. 

"Ah, Pink, I thought that was you. I want to see you at some time. "

"Ah'll watch out fo' ye when you-all's unhitchin' yo' mule. "

"Very well. I'm going in a few minutes. You do not come in?"

"No. Hit's M'lissy's party, 'n she 'n me ain' friends. "

"Here, take this, then. "

Friedrich dropped his partly filled poke into the ready, uplifted hand. 

"I had my supper very late to-night, " he explained to Mrs. Lance, "anda man outside a party looks so forlorn, don't you think so?"

"Some of 'em deserves hit, " returned Mrs. Lance, laconically. "He'sone. "

Von Rittenheim was fumbling with the halter-strap of his mule, whenPressley appeared beside him out of the shadow of a pine-tree. 

"Is that you, Pr-ressley? Do you r-ride or walk?"

"Ah'm walkin'. "

"Then will I not mount. "

Friedrich slipped the reins over the mule's head, and led him out on tothe highway. Pressley walked beside him. The stars shone brightlyenough to make visible the open road. 

"Are you-all goin' to ask me about the rent, Mr. Baron? Bud 'n me'sbeen pullin' fodder fo' a week. Hit's all ready in the upper field, 'nyou c'n take yo' choice any time. They's good bundles, fo' han's to thebundle. "

"Thank you. No, it was not of that I was going to speak. I want to tellyou that about six weeks ago--it was in August--I was up on BuzzardMountain one night, and I fell asleep there. "

Pink looked at him suspiciously in the darkness, and put a piece of theroad between them. 

"I fell asleep on a ledge of r-rock, and when I woke up I heard voicesjust under me. "

"The hell ye did!"

"It was you and Bud. "

"Well, what ye goin' to do about hit? Hit ain' befittin' you to squealon us. "

Von Rittenheim turned hot in the darkness, and made an impulsive motionthat induced a corresponding disturbance in his companion. 

"If I had thought of doing that I should not have spoken to youto-night. "

Pressley nodded, and came across the intervening space. 

"You-all wan' to come into the game, eh?"

"No, I do not want to join you, if that is what you mean. "

"Well, what do ye want, anyway?"

"I wees' to say a few things to you. I do not ask you to stopmoonshining. You are old enough to decide for yourself what kind oflife you pr-refer to lead, though you know well that the life of alaw-br-reaker is not the r-right sort. "

"Oh, quit preachin', Mr. Baron. You-all's a law-breaker, yo'self. "

Friedrich clutched the reins with a jerk that made the mule give adisgusted snort. The justice of the retort compelled him toself-control, as well as the knowledge that a giving way to rage wouldaccomplish nothing, whereas coolness might do something. 

"You know as well as I do the penalty of br-reaking the law. You'vesuffered it more than once, they tell me. "

"Ah reckon Ah've cost 'em right smart mo'n they ever got out o' me, "chuckled Pink. 

"So I do not ask you to face the r-results of what you do, because youknow well what they are, and you have made your choice. But I do askyou to think carefully before you undertake the r-responsibility ofmaking Bud a criminal. "

Pink's eyes shone cruelly in the darkness, but he only said, "Seemslike you-all been a long time startin' on this yere work o' reform. Yousaid hit was six weeks ago you heard us a-talkin'. "

"Perhaps I have been wrong to delay. But that morning Bud seemed notsure and determined about joining you, and I hoped that he might makeup his mind to refr-rain. "

"How do you know he ain'?"

"Oh, by the grape-vine telegraph. Those things always are known. Alsohave I heard the men at the party to-night talking about it. "

"Bud ain' no boy. Don' you think he's old enough to decide fo' himselffo' or ag'in' the life of a law-breaker, as you call hit. "

"No, I do not. Bud is several years younger than you in r-real age, andhe is a child beside you in deter-rmination. Also, he admires you. "

"Ah'm grateful for the compliment!"

"You could do anything with him. "

"Ah'm doin' what Ah wan' to with him. "

Von Rittenheim looked at his opponent in disgust, and fell back uponhis last argument. 

"You know well what are the chances of your getting caught. You've beencaught before. "

"Yes, but Ah won' be this time. Hit was fellers that was mad with mewho told on me befo', 'n Ah've fixed hit this time so Ah ain' got noenemies. They's only one feller that might inform. "

"Who's that?"

"You. "

The Baron flung up his head in quick scorn, and Pressley noted thegesture shrewdly, and nodded in satisfaction. Still he drove in anothernail. 

"A feller who'll listen will tell. "

Friedrich colored angrily. 

"You mean me? It does not sound well to hear--that! At first when Iawoke on the mountain I was sleepy. I r-realized not what it meant. When I did know, I had no wees' to die at once. I was unarmed myself, and a man in your position would shoot deter-rmined to kill. "

Pressley smiled at this tribute to his quickness and resolve. 

"But it is not a question of me. What I was going to say was that youknow there's a chance of your being arrested, and surely you would notcare to feel that it was through you that Bud had br-rought that shameand disgr-race upon his wife. "

"His wife?"

The ejaculation sounded to von Rittenheim like the hiss of a snake, andhe drew away from Pressley as from a reptile. 

"You have no r-relatives to suffer; alone you bear the bur-rden of yourmisdeeds. But if Bud goes wr-rong consider of the gr-rief of that poorMelissa, and think of the baby gr-rowing up to know that her father isa cr-riminal!"

"You-all think you got a mahty strong argyment there, Mr. Baron, don'you? But let me tell you, that's the weakest one you could bring. M'lissy Lance told me 'No' when she was a girl, an' M'lissyYarebrough's never spoke a decent word to me since she's been married, 'n 'f unhappiness comes on her, Ah'll be glad of hit; 'n 'f hit comesthrough mah doin', hit's only what Ah'm aimin' at. "

"'Aimin' at?' What mean you by that?"

"Ah mean Ah'll be gladder still 'f she's hurt through me. "

"Know you not that it is a coward who takes pleasure in the pain ofwomen and children?"

"So be, " returned Pink, cheerfully. "A coward Ah am, then, fo' that'sthe way Ah feel. "

"I warn you I shall speak to Bud. "

"Talk yo' hatful, Ah don' care. Ah got a pull on him. Talk all youplease so long's ye don' talk to the marshal. "

"An' Ah ain' afraid o' yo' doin' that, " he continued to himself, as heturned into the side road that led to his cabin. "You-all's had enougho' them folkses; an' you ain' that kind, either. "

XXII

Von Rittenheim Collects his Rent

It was in the cool of the next day's afternoon that von Rittenheim, with 'Gene Frady, who was working for him, drove up to the field wherewas piled his rent corn. Bud was awaiting him there, and after he hadchosen his heap from the three which were as nearly alike as it waspossible to make them, he sat on a fallen tree and idly watched the twomen loading the wagon. The western sky gave prophecy of a cloudlesssunset, and Friedrich wished that his own path towards oblivion were asfree and clear, and smiled faintly at the triteness of his comparison. 

He owned to himself as he sat there that he was contented. He hadentered upon his business with the desire to retrieve his past, and tomake for himself a future that might be worthy for Sydney to share. Nowthe latter spur to ambition was gone, but it was replaced by an urgentdesire to forget in work the bitter disappointment that had befallenhim. Pushed by that incentive his venture could not long remain aventure. Such energy was bound to bring success. And the victory, whichwas daily more evident and more substantial, combined with the feelingthat he was doing his duty as he saw it, to produce content. 

But happiness? No. Never while---- Oh, what was the use of thinkingabout it? He rose impatiently, and walked through the brush at the topof the field, slapping at the leaves with a switch that he had beenstripping. 

Of a sudden he stopped and sat down on a stump. 

"Goin' down with me, Mr. Baron?" called 'Gene from the top of theloaded wagon. 

"No, I think not. I'll stay and talk with Bud a while. Come up here, Yare-brough, " he added, as Frady drove off, whistling. 

Bud approached, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with hisshirt sleeve. 

"Bud, did you know this was here?"

Von Rittenheim reached behind him and tapped something that gave fortha sound of earthenware. 

"Know what was there?"

"Come and see. "

Yarebrough stepped behind the stump, upon whose top the Baron swungaround so as to keep his face in view. 

"Whose jug?" asked Bud. 

"I know not. I thought you might know. "

Bud picked it up, disclosing a silver half-dollar upon which it hadbeen resting. He looked at it as if afraid, and then glanced sheepishlyat Friedrich. 

"A half a gallon, " remarked the German, dryly. 

The mountaineer reddened and stooped for the coin. 

"Wait!" commanded von Rittenheim. "Before you touch that, I want to askyou if you would be willing that your wife should know how you ear-rnedthat money?"

Yarebrough changed his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, andthen sat down suddenly, as if his legs were not equal to his support. 

"Well, Ah wasn' fixin' to tell M'lissy, " he acknowledged. 

"Know you not that that so good little woman would r-rather be hungr-rythan have you give her money that you gained by br-reaking the law?"

"Well, Ah wasn' fixin' to give hit to her. "

"You weren't? What are you going to do with it?"

Unfortunately for the success of Friedrich's plan for Bud's moralregeneration, Yarebrough's affection for the Baron made him reticent onthe fact of his debt to Pressley. 

"For, " he thought, sagely, "if Ah tell him Ah owe Pink, he'll go tolend me the money, 'n Ah know he cain' afford hit. Would he ever 'a'gone into sellin' blockade himself if he hadn' been as pore as a crow?"

His wit not being very ready, however, he offered no excuse, butsaid, --

"Ah reckon Ah don' care to tell ye. "

Friedrich laid his hand on the young man's shoulder as he sat besidehim on the ground. 

"Think what it means, Bud, to do what now you do. You put yourself inthe class of wr-rongdoers instead of in the r-ranks of those who dor-right. You will br-reak Melissa's heart if she finds it out, ascertainly she will. And think of the baby. You want her to have anhonest father, don't you?"

Bud was ground between the upper and the nether millstone. On one sideof his weak will was his affection for his wife and child, and hisdesire to please the Baron. On the other was his fear of Pressley'ssneers and his habit of submission to the older man's domination. Andsince his inclination towards good was not assisted by the mighty leverof a love of good for virtue's sake, the millstones clung closetogether, and the grinding still went on. 

To compromise with a disagreeable present is a desire which it takes astronger man than Bud to shake off. His inner light showed him noreason for making such an effort. 

"Ah s'pose Ah hadn' oughter do hit, " he admitted, "but hit's mahtytemptin'. Now that there's the first money Ah seen from hit yet. Hit'sall been hard work up to now, an' nothin' comin' in. "

He lifted the jug and looked longingly at the coin on the ground. 

"You don' know what hit is to wan' hit so bad, Mr. Baron. "

"Do I not know? Good God! Bud, it was because I wanted half that sum somuch that I couldn't r-resist the temptation of it shining in a man'shand, that I did the thing for which never shall I for-rgive myself. You know, Bud; you r-recollect----"

He hid his face in his hands and gave a sob of tortured remembrance. Bud's easy sympathies were strained almost to the point of tears. 

"Ah know, " he responded, hastily; "you hadn' oughter 'a' done hit. Don', Mr. Baron, don'! Ah'll think about stoppin', Ah certainly will. Sit up, Mr. Baron, " he cried, agitatedly, "here's folkses comin', --Mrs. Baron an' Miss Sydney. "

Von Rittenheim raised his head, hardly believing Bud's cry to be otherthan an excuse to rouse him from his emotion. But he saw in the roadbelow him a party of four people on horseback approaching his cabin. Even from his elevation he could recognize Sydney's erect carriage, andthe white habit that it pleased Hilda to wear. He rose to his feet. 

"Think of what I say, boy, " he said to Yarebrough. "I am older thanyou, and God knows I've earned my experience. "

Bud watched him down the hill. When he was greeting his guests at thedoor of his cabin, Yarebrough picked up the jug and the coin, anddisappeared into the woods. 

Wendell was taking the baroness off her horse, and Bob was performingthe same office for Sydney, when Von Rittenheim reached them. 

"We are come to beg a welcome fr-rom you for a few minutes, dearFriedrich, " said Hilda, in English. 

"Which surely is yours, " returned Von Rittenheim, kissing her hand. Heturned to Sydney, but she was busy doing something to her saddle, andgreeted him over her shoulder. His hand dropped to his side. 

"Let me help you tie the horses, Bob, " he insisted, and took Sydney'sanimal from him. 

"Dear Yonny, " he murmured, in the unresponsive ear, as he fastened himin the shade, and gave him a pat and a lump of sugar from his pocket. 

"May we go in?" asked Hilda. "I want to see the state of yourstoreroom, " she added, with an air of protecting care that sat prettilyon her youthful face. 

"_Natürlich_, " called Friedrich from Johnny's side. "The key of thecupboard is in the table-drawer. "

Sydney was alone on the porch when Friedrich came up the steps. 

"Your view is lovely, " she said. "I think I like Pisgah better fromthis angle than from any other. "

"Then do I, too, " he replied, looking at her with his heart in hiseyes, for it was long since he had seen her, and to a lover yesterday, when it is passed, is as a thousand years. 

Sydney threw up her chin haughtily, and von Rittenheim thought ruefullyof the category in which undoubtedly she classed all his remarks ofthat kind. 

"Will you not enter?" he said. "Never have you honored my roof, Ithink. " And Sydney was glad to do so to avoid being alone with him. 

They found Hilda leaning against the table opposite the cupboard, whileBob recited the contents of the shelves, and Wendell wrote them down. 

"Two packages of oatmeal. "

"Oatmeal, " echoed John. 

"One tin of mustard. "

"Mustard. "

"A sack half-full of cornmeal. "

"Cornmeal. "

"What in the world are you doing?" cried Sydney, in amazement. 

Friedrich looked annoyed. No one likes to have his house-keepingarrangements too closely scrutinized. 

"Friedrich, this list is going to help you ver-ry much to know what youmust or-rder from the--how you call him?" She appealed to John and Bobin turn. "The grocy?"

Friedrich smiled to conceal his irritation. 

"My way, Hilda, is to get more of something when I find empty the boxthat holds it. I'm afr-raid I am not pr-rovident. "

She returned his smile adorably. 

"That I must teach you, " she said, and Sydney and John turned away. 

Sydney walked to the mantel-shelf, which was so high that it was on alevel with her eyes. There was an array of pipes and a tin box oftobacco; a volume of Schiller, with some matches lying loose upon it;and, flat on the board, a photograph. She picked it up idly, notnoticing what she was doing, conscious only of doing something, so thather separation from the others might not be noticeable. Her discoveryproved to be half of a picture of a Neighborhood picnic, taken by anitinerant photographer who had established his tent near the Florapost-office. It was that side of the group in which she was standing, and her figure was brought into relief by a frame of card-board slippedover it like a mat. It had become a picture of herself, and of herselfalone. 

Her first feeling--the instinct that comes before thought--was one ofpleasure; he had cared enough to do that. But quick upon it came thecry of wounded pride. She found von Rittenheim at her side, and turnedupon him fiercely. 

"How dare you?" she cried, in an undertone. "How dare you do such athing? You know I never have given any man my picture, --once I told youso, --and you have made this a picture of me alone. You, who----"

She broke off, choking, but she had enough voice to add, --

"But it is like you, it is like you!" as she tore the card into bitsand flung it into the fireplace. 

Friedrich stooped involuntarily to catch the falling fragments, but hesaw at once the foolishness of his movement, and desisted. He saidnothing, and Sydney, made ashamed of her tirade by his silence, as shewould not have been by any words, at last looked up at him. Theexpression on his face was so hopeless, so unutterably sad, that she, in her turn, stood silent. 

"Could you not have left me that?" he whispered, hoarsely. 

Sydney was held by the inexplicable bond of his mute pain. A sense ofcomprehension went through her, and with it a thrill of happiness. Itmight be that after all--yes, it _must_ be that he had not beentrifling with her, that he had cared, that he was suffering as sheherself was suffering. And if so, how rewarded was her sacrifice! Herlove had been strong enough to make her willing that he should loveanother woman, if his happiness lay in so doing. Her reward came in theknowledge that after all his love was hers--that he was sharing hersacrifice. _Why_ this was she did not understand; she only felt surethat she was right, and she gloried in it. Then, woman-like, shereproached herself for the moments when she had cheapened herrenunciation by the suspicion that he had been flirting with her. 

Friedrich stood beside her, his left hand clutching his heart. He feltas if, in destroying that picture, so often gazed at through clouds ofmeditative smoke, so often kissed, she had done him a physical injury. Through his coat he pinched hard her little handkerchief, which alwaysrested over his heart, lest she should divine its presence, and in someway tear that from him, too. His suffering was so great that he did notfollow her change of expression, but his fingers felt hers touch themever so fleetingly, and her whisper came to his ears, --

"Forgive me. I think I understand now. "

Across the room came Hilda, who never could stay away from Friedrichmany minutes, in spite of Wendell's efforts to interest her; andWendell himself, following her reluctantly only when her progressbrought him near von Rittenheim; and Bob, never truly happy except nearSydney. There was laughing and talking, in which Friedrich and Sydneyheard themselves taking part, and wondered how it could be. 

"Also we br-rought you an invitation, " said Hilda, "as well as our sointeresting selves. "

"Yes, " said Bob, "we're going on a 'possum-hunt to-morrow night, and wewant you and your best dog. "

"You shall have me! I r-remember last year when first I came I heardthe dogs on the mountain, but then I had no kind fr-riends to make methe invitation. "

"It's a little early, but we want to be sure to have one before Mr. Wendell goes. "

"You go soon?"

Von Rittenheim's interest was only a courteous expression of concern, but John, fretted by Hilda's alternate encouragement and coldness, wastormented by his nerves, and not in command of his judgment. He saw inthe Baron's question a malicious pleasure in his prospective departure. 

"Yes, " he said, "I must go soon, I'm afraid. You're playing in luckthese days, old man. You gain what I lose--and the close season formoonshiners is coming on, now that the corn is ripe. "

Hilda, who did not understand a word he said, laughed softly, as if inamusement at his wit. Von Rittenheim, who had not been able to followthe colloquialisms, frowned at "moonshining, " which rang out for hisears above all else. Sydney and Bob looked with horror at the sneeringface before them. 

"John, " said Sydney, sternly, "you forget yourself strangely. "

As they were about to start she leaned from her horse and gave her handto Friedrich. 

"You have much to forgive me, " she said. 

"For much have I to thank you, " he returned. 

XXIII

The 'Possum-Hunt

Buzzard Mountain, wooded to the top, extends for two miles north andsouth. Its long, gradual slope is like the body of a dormant animal, rising from the sunken haunches over a long and flattened back, andfalling again to the nose dropped sleepily between the outstretchedpaws. 

The meet for the 'possum-hunt was at its northern end, on the outskirtsof the settlement. The run was to be along the crest towards the south, bringing the hunters out at the end of the ridge nearest their homes. 

The night was lighted by a youthful moon, not brilliant enough to dimthe lustre of the stars, shining clear through the air. It was coolwith the first touch of autumn; so cool as to invite to exercise, yetso warm as to make it a pleasure to be in the open. 

The hunters were in high spirits. The men from the hamlet about thepost-office, --'Gene Frady and Alf Lance, Mitchell Robertson, theblacksmith, Doc Pinner, the carpenter, and a half-dozen more, with aboy to drive back the horses, were piled into a wagon. There were muchpushing and scrambling for places, and many ejaculations of discomfort. 

"Git off mah feet, 'Gene. "

"Hang 'em outside, man. Ah gotter sit somewheres. "

"Ouch! What fool put rye-straw in here?"

"Powerful penetratin', ain' hit?"

"Now, look here, that dog's gotter run with the rest. They ain' no roomfor him in this wagon. "

"Cain' you-all make them horses o' yo's git along a little mo' lively, Alf? Mr. Baron'll 'a' cleaned the mountain o' 'possums befo' we gitthere. "

"How you-all think they's goin' ter hurry with so many fellers terhaul? Some o' you boys gotter light 'n walk up this hill in a minute, so ye better enjoy drivin' while ye can. "

At a deserted cabin on the road that ran through the northern gap theyfound Bob Morgan and John Wendell, who had come in a buggy, and theBaron on his mule. A small negro was to take the vehicle, with vonRittenheim's animal tied behind, around the base of the mountain to theGerman's house, there to await the end of the hunt. The boy's brownface was twitching with excitement, as the men began to throw theircoats into the wagon, and to light their torches, split from the heartof the yellow pine. 

"Oh, Lor', Missa Bob, " he cried, rubbing one bare foot up and down theother leg in ecstasy, "lemme go, too. Ah'll never ast ye nothin' again, Ah swear Ah won't. _Please_, Missa Bob. "

"Can't do it, Scipio, " said Bob, kindly. "You're the only man we've gotto look after these creatures. Here, don't let your eyes pop out ofyour head. I tell you, you drive to Mr. Baron's and tie the horse andthe mule, --tie 'em strong, mind, --and then you can come up the otherside and meet us. "

Scipio's mournful eyes followed the disappearing forms with anappreciation of their purpose rather than of the picturesqueness oftheir appearance. The flaming lights grew silent as the distance becametoo great for his ear to catch their sizzling. They danced hither andyon, --now scattered, now flashing in a bunch. He followed the course ofa very bright one as it appeared and vanished, but went always on andup. 

"Ah 'low dat's Missa Bob's, " said the loyal little soul. "He sho' wouldhave de bigges'. "

On the hill-side the men opened their line to cover a wide stretch ofthe mountain, and plunged upward through the scrub of pines and oaks. There was much running about of the dogs, and desultory barking, corrected by spicy admonitions from their masters, until the ascent'ssteepness forced silence upon them by the weapon of difficultbreathing. 

Once 'Gene Frady tripped on a root and fell headlong, pitching historch into the dry duff a man's length before him. There was a rush tostamp out the incipient fire, the autumn terror of the forests, beforeany one lent a hand to help the fallen. Robertson went half-way up hisleggings in a spring, and stood swearing fiercely, while the restjeered at him and ordered him to move on before he muddied up a gooddrinking-place. Bob and Friedrich pushed on on adjoining courses, anoccasional cry of "_malerisch_, " or "_zauberisch_, " showing that vonRittenheim was regarding the scene as well as the sport. On the otherside of Bob climbed Wendell, sullenly self-reproachful in the Baron'spresence, yet of too exuberant a nature not to be alive to theexcitement of the chase. 

Of a sudden a hound gave voice, --the bay that makes hunters of us all. The other dogs rushed to his standard, yelping, barking, galloping fromall directions across their masters' paths, until the forest seemedsuddenly alive with them. One after another found, and added his noteto the general cry that trailed off into the distance. The men who hadstarted to follow paused, and the rest drew together. 

"Rabbit, " suggested Bob, disgustedly, and the others nodded, and beganto whistle for their retainers. 

Singly they returned, with swinging tongue and pendant ears, and adisposition to sit down and contemplate the scenery. Then once morecame a cry, the steady bay of a dog at stand. His companions instantlyforgot their fatigue, pricked up their ears, pulled in their tongues, and started towards the herald, with all the huntsmen in pursuit. 

Gathered about a veteran oak, whose blasted top betrayed it thelightning's victim, were grouped the dogs, each one shoving to betterhis place in the bunch, each with tuneful throat and uplifted tail. Occasionally one from the outskirts would rush around the crowd of hisfellows and try to push in from the other side of the ring. The onesnearest the tree snuffed at a hole in the trunk between the roots, anddug fiercely with their forepaws. 

"Holler, ain' hit?"

"Yes. He's went in that-a-way. "

"Don' look like hit's holler up fur. "

"No. Reckon we c'n chop him out. "

Lance pushed among the dogs, kicking and cuffing them out of his way, and sounded the tree with the back of a hatchet. 

"Ah 'low hit's gone all the way up, " he cried. 

"Well, chop hit 'n fin' out!" returned his friends, impatiently. 

He began cutting a square and soon broke through the outer shell. 

"Gimme a glove, one o' you fellers, " he cried. "Ah ain' aimin' to havea finger chewed off this time. "

Some one tossed him the desired protection. He put it on and thrust hisarm into the hole, while the crowd pushed up on to the dogs, and theyyelped excitedly. 

"Ah tol' ye so. Hit's holler clear up's fur's Ah c'n reach. "

"All right. We'll smoke him out, then. Git out o' here, you dogs, an'give us a chance at this fireplace. "

The hole at the base of the tree was quickly enlarged enough to push ina smudge, and the opening which Lance had made above was closed withmoss and green leaves. 

"Hi, there she comes, " cried some one, enthusiastically, as the thickwhite smoke made its way out of the broken top. "The varmint won' stan'that long. "

Soon, indeed, amid a shower of bark and burning punk, a black and whiteball scrambled into the air and dropped from the ragged splinters thatoffered no sufficient hold for its claws. 

As swift as sight, 'Gene Frady dashed close to the bole and caught thefalling creature in his hands. High above the leaping dogs he held it, while they snarled, defrauded of their prey. 

"Quick, that crocus sack, " he called. "Ah promised the kids to bringone home. Give him a switch, Mitchell. "

The 'possum, rousing from the semi-stupor into which the smoke and theshock of his fall had thrown him, was beginning to struggle violently. Robertson broke a finger-thick stick and thrust it between the snappingjaws, that clamped upon it fiercely. The rat-like tail wound about theother end of the rod, and the bag was drawn over him while he clung tohis fancied means of safety. Frady flung his burden high on his back tosecure it from the dogs, and the others put out the fire in the tree, and again fell into open order to beat the woods. 

The next 'possum which they discovered, more fortunate than hisbrother, who had been sighted on the ground where locomotion is slowand awkward for his kind, was aloft in the branches when the dogs spiedhim. He clambered dexterously about with his hand-like extremities, aiding his progress with his prehensile tail; but he had not calculatedupon the added heaviness which his autumn diet had given him. Heventured upon a sapling that bent beneath him. Wendell added his weightto bear it to the ground, and the dogs leaped at their victim and torehim into bits. 

Both men and dogs were tired now, and pushed on with less enthusiasm. The dogs, indeed, who had covered many more miles in their wilddashings than had their masters, were not above sitting downoccasionally and lapping a memento of the last 'possum's sharp teeth, or passing a rueful paw over a slit and bleeding ear. 

As they were approaching the southern end of the mountain, and realizedthat the edge of the excitement was blunted, the men walked nearer toeach other, and talked on indifferent themes as they pushed through thebrush just below the top of the ridge. One after another fell silent, perhaps through fatigue; possibly impressed with the beauty of thenight. 

Through the openings in the tree-tops the stars shone with steadyclearness, doing their best to replace the light of the little moonwhich had gone to rest early, like most young things. Under the forestcover the starlight did not penetrate, and the darkness was illuminedby the yellow flare of the torches. The fall of feet on cracklingtwigs, and the slapping of smitten shrub-leaves broke the thick silencethat falls on the earth with night. 

To Pink Pressley, crouching at the entrance of his cave, the sound ofapproaching steps was a threat. He had put out his fire as soon as heheard the dogs on the other end of the ridge, and for two hours he hadfollowed the course of the hunt by their barking and the cries of themen. He guessed it to be what it was, --a 'possum-hunt, --yet suspicionborn of guilt hinted always at such a hunt as an excuse for a raid uponhis still. 

On the other hand, the party was coming from the north, and might bemade up of men from Asheville. In that case, since, perhaps, they didnot know the mountain, it was quite possible that they would turn backbefore they reached his hiding-place. At any rate, he determined tostay where he was, and run the risk of detection. If it should prove tobe a raid, he was not averse to exchanging shots with the revenue men. The thought of it filled him with a fierce joy. Three times they haddestroyed his whole plant, and this time he meant to fight for it. 

He took down the boards that filled the cave's mouth, and pulled thebushes more carefully before it. The dogs would find and reveal him asquickly with one arrangement as the other, and he had no desire toundergo a siege shut up in that hole, when he might burst out anddefend himself with some enjoyment. 

Screened by his net-work of bushes, he listened keenly to every sound. A misgiving seized him that Bud had betrayed him, and he cursed him ina whisper. Yarebrough had told him in the afternoon that his baby wasill, and that he could not leave Melissa alone with her that night; buthe had confessed at the same time, with his usual lack of reticence, that the Baron had "been a-talkin'" to him, and Pink suspected that thebaby's illness was a fabrication to excuse his non-appearance at thestill, and possibly his treachery. Pressley's judgment of his partner'shonor was based on his own, and he felt in his pocket to make sure ofthe safety there of a letter whose crackle sounded pleasantly in hisears. 

"'Twon' do to give him too much rope, " he muttered. 

Nearer came the soft scampering of dogs and the trampling of men, andthe torches' glow warming the unlighted forest. Pressley hoped thatthey might pass along the mountain's side below him, or on top of theledge that roofed his cavern, but there always was danger from thedogs. Even as he thought it, one padded along the shelf of rock thatlay like a step before his door, and stopped short with a growl. He wasso near that Pink struck him with the butt of his revolver, and senthim off with a paw uplifted in pain. 

The man leaned out from his shelter and stared towards the right, whence the lights were coming. Then he looked straight ahead for amoment, down the mountain, under the leafy tops, and wished it were allover and he knew how it had come out. 

When he looked back the foremost men were in view, a group of three orfour, with their dogs following at heel soberly enough. Their torchesflung grotesque shadows on the trees, and distorted their figures intouncouth semblances. He could not recognize them, yet they seemedfamiliar. Those two in front--was it----? Yes, by God! Like a fiend hesprang from his lair and rushed at von Rittenheim, as if from the verybowels of the rock. His face glared, malignant, in the unsteady light. 

"So you did squeal on me, you damned German!" he yelled. "Take that andthat and that. " He fired three times full at von Rittenheim's face. With the third shot another rang in unison, and Pressley fell, twistedand snarling, on the stone before his still. 

Bob Morgan's hand, holding the smoking pistol, fell to his side. 

"Are you all right, von Rittenheim?" he asked; then added, weakly, "Ireckon you'll have to carry me down, boys. He's touched me. " And hestaggered into Friedrich's arms. 

He had been walking a stride higher up the hill-side than vonRittenheim, and, flinging himself from his greater elevation betweenthe German and his assailant, he had received the bullets meant forFriedrich's head lower in his own body. 

XXIV

"Fought the Fight"

Bob lay white and still upon his bed, breathing painfully. Two ofPink's bullets had torn their way through his lungs, and the third hadsplintered his collar-bone. A surgeon had come out from Asheville, and, after examining the wounds, had sent for help. When the secondphysician arrived, they had probed and prodded the inert body, whileDr. Morgan, with an ever-growing fear clutching at his heart, administered the chloroform with a steady hand. Outside the door Mrs. Morgan had knelt against the wall, tearless, and without a word ofprayer. 

Now it was over, and there was no hope, only waiting for the end, --thewaiting that saps courage from the heart of the onlooker, and makesendurance seem a thing impossible; the torture of seeing suffering thatis not to be relieved; suffering that seems all unnecessary, sincedeath is to be the issue after all. 

Bob had asked for Sydney as soon as he came out of the chloroform, andshe had responded at once. 

"You won't leave me, dear?" he had questioned, when he opened his eyesfrom the drowsiness that the opiate forced upon him, and saw hersitting beside him. 

"No, Bob; I'll stay as long as you want me. "

He had smiled feebly at her. 

"It won't be very long. "

A glimmer in his eyes showed that he understood the possibleimpertinent interpretation of his speech. 

"You won't mind letting me hold your hand, Sydney, will you?" he hadsaid, in his hoarse, weak voice. "It's one of the perquisites of dying. Tuck your fingers in there, dear. Those doctors have strapped me up soI can't move my arm. "

So she sat with her hand in his, and her eyes looking out across themeadows to Buck Mountain, while Bob dozed and woke and dozed again, always smiling happily at her when he found her still beside him, andpressing her fingers in his weak grasp. 

As the sun sank towards the west he roused from his stupefied slumber, and spoke with growing clearness. 

"It's mighty good of you to stay here, Sydney. I'm selfish to ask you, but I haven't seen you much lately, I've been so busy with the crops. "

"You've never failed me, Bob dear. It's my turn now. "

"It's just because I'm weak, I suppose, but I want a little flattery. Don't you think I've done pretty well about--drinking?"

"You've been wonderful, Bob. I honor and respect you more than I cansay. You feel that, don't you?"

"Thank you, dear. You know I did it for you? Oh, I told her all aboutit, " as Sydney glanced towards the corner where Mrs. Morgan, worn outwith grief, was sleeping behind a screen. "I've been a little morehopeful about you lately, since--well----"

He paused, not liking to finish his sentence "since the Baroness came, "for it suggested implications too delicate for utterance. 

"But I always knew, really, that you couldn't care for me in that way. It was a temporary deceit, the way you can make yourself believe for afew minutes that you haven't a toothache, and then it jumps on youagain. "

"Dear old Bob. "

Sydney bent forward and kissed him. Over his face spread a radiance ofunexpected happiness. 

"Oh, Sydney, you darling! I say, Sydney, if you wouldn't think that I'mtaking advantage of my condition--would you mind--_would_ you do thatagain?"

She kissed him again, gladly, willingly, and he sank happily to sleep. When he woke once more he asked for von Rittenheim. 

"He's down-stairs. He's been waiting all day hoping you'd want to seehim. "

Sydney summoned Friedrich. He uttered an exclamation of sorrow as hesaw the big black eyes looking from their hollows, and the white faceof the man so suddenly brought to this pass from the full tide ofstrength. 

"For-r my sake!" he groaned. "How with all my soul I wish it were I!"

He took Bob's other hand--Sydney had resumed her old position--andtried to command his voice. It was Bob who spoke first:

"What about Pressley?"

Von Rittenheim looked questioningly at Sydney, who nodded. 

"He's dead, Bob. "

A ray from the setting sun found its way to the bed and lighted up thedying man's face. 

"Kind of sudden for him, too, " he mused. "Did he live any time at all?"

"No. Your bullet went through his heart. He must have died instantly. "

"It's a mighty serious thing to do, to kill a man. I never realizedbefore how serious it was. But I'm not sorry. "

"You saved my life, Bob. I can't talk about it. Only, I'd give itgladly, gladly, to keep you, old man. "

He bent his head with a sob. 

"Never mind that, Baron. I suspect Yarebrough'll be all the better fornot having Pink to lead him into mischief. "

"It has saved him from a heavy punishment. They found in Pr-ressley'spocket a letter offering to turn State's evidence. "

"That would have sent Bud to jail and freed himself, wouldn't it?"asked Sydney. 

"Yes. He must have been afraid of betrayal. "

"No, " cried the girl; "I'm sure he planned the whole thing to spiteMelissa. I heard him threatening her one day. He said he'd make hersorry she ever married Bud. "

"I think you're right, Sydney, " said Bob. "He was working Bud allsummer, I'm confident, with the purpose of betraying him at the end. "

He sank a little into the pillow, and Sydney gave von Rittenheim aglance of dismissal. 

"You're tired, dear, " she said to Bob. 

"A little. I think I'll take a nap. Oh, Baron, I almost forgot. I wasin Asheville a few days ago, --Monday, Tuesday, --I don't know when, " hewent on, weakly, "and I met a man who said he thought he knew you. He'sat the hotel, --a German. "

"Did he tell you his name?"

"I can't remember. Something long. He said if you were Friedrich vonRittenheim from the Black Forest that he knew you well, and would youlook him up? You will, won't you?"

"Yes, I will. "

"If you don't, he'll think I've broken my promise. "

"I will. He shall know that you told me. Good-by, Bob, good-by. "

But Bob was asleep and did not answer. 

It was with the ebbing of the night and the coming of the dawn thatBob's soul went out, --went out in stress and travail. 

When the struggle was over, Sydney left the old doctor and his wifekneeling side by side at the edge of the bed, and crept down-stairs. Von Rittenheim was sitting before the fire, his head buried in hishands. He sprang to meet her as she entered. 

"Is he----? Has he----?"

The girl nodded. 

"Just now. "

Suddenly she threw her arms over her head and broke into stifled sobs. 

Friedrich was torn with distress. He drew her to the fire, andestablished her in a big chair, wrapping her warmly in a rug from thecouch. Somewhere he found a glass of wine, and made her take it. Thenhe knelt beside her, rubbing the fingers that were cold and crampedfrom Bob's long clasp, and talking softly to her as to a child. 

God alone knows the force he put upon himself not to take her in hisarms and comfort her on his breast; not to pour into her ears the wordsthat were burning his heart out. Drops of moisture stood on hisforehead as he resisted the temptation that was the stronger because hefelt that she returned his love, and that these forbidden words wouldbe her greatest comfort. But Sydney was not insensible of their subtle, unspoken sympathy, and at last yielded to the solace of warmth and theconsciousness of being cared for, and, exhausted, closed her eyes insleep. 

Friedrich stirred the fire and watched its light play on the face ofthe woman he loved, and gave himself up to wonder and longing andregret. 

 * * * * *

Unless it had been that of Dr. Morgan himself, no other death in allthe country round could have touched so nearly so many hearts. Aroundthe grave, lined with the glistening laurel-leaves of victory, stoodold and young, rich and poor, men and women, and even little children. There were those who had come because he was the Doctor's son; therewere those who had been with him on many a gay excursion; there werethose who had experienced his tenderness and loving-kindness. Old manJohnson, from over the river, who had walked eight painful miles, laidthe first shovelful of earth into the grave. Patton McRae helped tocover his life-long friend. The negroes from the farm sobbed audibly asthey worked. A tramp came into the graveyard from the road and askedwhose buryin' it was. They told him, and he swore softly, and begged tobe allowed to help. John Wendell yielded his shovel to Hamp Pinner, andhe to Colonel Huger. 

Then the women came forward and covered the mound with boughs of green, and clusters of flowers, and sprays of bright leaves, and Sydney laidabout the whole grave a garland of feathery aster and delicate fern. Through the quiet came a sweet, sonorous voice reading the words of thehymn, --

 "Love's redeeming work is done, Fought the fight, the victory won. "

Out of the church-yard, side by side, with bowed heads, walked BudYarebrough and Friedrich von Rittenheim, --the man whose fragile honorhad been preserved by Bob's act, and the man whose life he had givenhis own to save. 

XXV

Carl von Sternburg

Mrs. Morgan and the Doctor had insisted upon giving to von RittenheimGray Eagle and Bob's buggy. They could have done nothing kinder or moretactful, for Friedrich was apprehensive even of their seeing him forwhom their son had given his life, and their insistence upon hisaccepting this remembrance of their dead boy proved their feelingtowards him more cogently than any words. 

It was the good gray horse that he was driving towards Asheville a fewdays after the funeral, on his way to fulfil his promise to Bob to huntup the German who had claimed acquaintance with him. 

As he travelled on, he thought of the two notable journeys which he hadmade on this same highway, --the heart-chilling ride through thepenetrating morning mist at the head of the men who had arrested him, and the wild flight through the darkness to secure the surgeon for poorBob. Between the two had intervened a lifetime of experience. He hadbeen branded a criminal, and had rehabilitated himself; he had knockedat the door of death, and been refused; he had lost his confidence inman's honesty, and had regained a fuller faith in his goodness; he hadwatched the slow blossoming of the tender flower of love's hope withinhis heart, and he had seen it overshadowed by the stouter growth ofloyalty to his word. 

Of his future, in so far as it might have to do with Sydney, he did notallow himself to think. There was no shaft of light lying upon thatroad. But a clear and steady, though not far-reaching flame illuminedthe present, for he felt sure now that she loved him, and that gave hima certain happiness. It was like having a beautiful secret, --a secretwhose delight would be doubled if it might be shared with the world, but nevertheless a secret which gave joy in mere solitarycontemplation. 

_Hilda_ was a subject which forced itself with increasing potencyupon his mind. After the first shock of her sudden coming had passed, he had been touched by her turning to him in her loneliness. ThatSydney's withdrawal from him lay at Hilda's charge he could not fail tosee, and he blamed himself for the occasional repulsion against hissister-in-law with which the situation filled him. She was so sweet, sochildlike, so full of trust in him, so regretful for her mistakes ofthe past, so reticent as to Maximilian's ill-behavior. Her wholeconduct won his respect and confidence, even while he felt himselfsubtly encompassed by the seine of her entire reliance upon the keepingof his oath. That she expected him to marry her he did not formallyconcede to himself, but he was quite sure that she did not expect himto marry any one else. 

His errands done, --a commission for Mrs. Morgan and some business forthe firm, --he betook himself to the hotel and asked for the register. He was running over the names when he heard some one behind him saying, in German, --

"It _is_ my von Rittenheim! It is my dear Friedrich!" and "dearFriedrich" and a somewhat stout young man a few years younger than heflung themselves into each other's arms, and kissed both cheeks afterthe manner of their race, while the clerk turned to his safe to concealthe grin that inwreathed his countenance. 

"Von Sternburg! What in the world brought you here?"

"Baedeker. This scenery is among the things a globe-trotter has tosee. "

"Shall you stay long?"

"I go to Florida day after to-morrow. Come on to the veranda and tellme about yourself. "

"If I can stop asking questions long enough!"

It was while they were talking and smoking in the sunshine with theglorious western range spread before them, that von Sternburg said, --

"And poor old Max is dead. "

He knocked the ash from his cigar with his little finger, and glancedat Friedrich, who was non-committal. 

"Yes, " was all he said. 

"I suppose they've never found any trace of the she-devil, have they?"

Friedrich sat up with a jerk and stared at von Sternburg. 

"She-devil? What she-devil?"

"What she-devil? Why, the Baroness, of course. Max's wife. "

"No trace of Hilda? She-devil? What are you talking about?"

"Do you mean to say that you don't know about Maximilian's death?"

"I know he shot himself. "

"And you don't know why?"

"I had not heard from Max for six months before he died. I did not knowof his death until several months after it occurred!"

"That was strange! Your man of business did not write you?"

"It was my fault. I hadn't sent him my address for a long time. When Idid there was a reason for his not writing at once. "

"Who is he?"

"Stapfer. "

"I knew it!"

Von Sternburg slapped his knee. 

"Stapfer was crazy over her, and she had some reason for your notknowing. "

"_She!_ Are you talking about my sister-in-law?"

"Oh, you needn't put on any dignity over her. She isn't worth it, though I suppose you don't know that as well as you will in a fewminutes. "

Friedrich passed his hand over his face. 

"I can't understand it. You say Stapfer was in love with Hilda?"

"And she made use of him, just as she did of Moller and von Hatfeldtand everybody else who came near her. She overreached herself about vonHillern, though. "

"It seems treachery to listen to you, von Sternburg. "

"Treachery! Why, my dear boy----"

Von Sternburg ended his sentence with an expressive gesture. 

"And Max--did he know?"

"Why, that's what killed him, man! Haven't you kept in touch withanybody in the Fatherland who would write you any news?"

"I haven't received a letter from a soul except Max and Stapfer since Icame to America. "

Von Sternburg gave a whistle of surprise. 

"Then you don't even know how Max improved? Everybody thought when hemarried Hilda von Arnim that he did it merely for the pleasure ofcutting you out. Forgive my speaking so plainly. "

He laid a deprecating hand on von Rittenheim's knee. Friedrich noddedsilently. 

"I haven't a doubt in the world that that was his chief motive then. But after you left he fell a victim to the charm that she seems toexert over everybody who doesn't know her tricks--you must let me go onnow, " he said, quickly, in response to a motion of von Rittenheim's, "or I can't establish my case. He fell madly in love with her, and itmade another man of him. "

"There was much good in Max. "

"Well hidden all through his youth, you must allow. He gave updrinking----"

"Not entirely?"

"He drank only what a gentleman takes for dinner. "

"He was not intoxicated when he sh--when he died?"

"I know for a fact that he was not drunk once during the whole lastyear of his life. "

"You know? How do you know? Forgive me, Carl, " as a look of annoyanceclouded von Sternburg's face, "but every proof is important to me. "

"I was living at our Schloss--at my father's. I saw Maximilian nearlyevery day. We were together constantly. "

"Extraordinary!" murmured Friedrich. "Did this wonderful change extendto his money affairs?"

"Well, you know Max could use any amount of money, and you couldn'texpect him to become an economist at one shot. Then he always spent agreat deal on his wife; he was continually sending to Paris forsomething for her. "

Friedrich scowled thoughtfully. 

"Still he paid all his old debts out of his Aunt Brigitta's legacy, anddidn't make any new ones. "

"That means more for Max than it would for most people. "

"He told me that he could not have afforded to keep up the Schlosswithout your help, but aside from the expenses of the house he hadplenty, plenty. "

"And Hilda?"

"Oh, the Baroness is a millionaire. Her aunt in Heidelberg died morethan a year ago and left her all her fortune. Max never got a pfennigof it though, even in a Christmas-gift. "

There flashed across Friedrich's mental view his cabin, differing in norespect from those of the "mountain whites, " his neighbors. Then apicture of a little figure with white neck and arms shining through thefilmy blackness of her gown, shrinking into an arm-chair, and saying, "I always had enough for my needs, even when----"

"Was he kind to her?"

"Kind? I tell you he loved her with the most unselfish devotion. It washis dearest wish to live a life so correct that she might be proud ofhim. You couldn't expect more than that, could you?"

"Not from Maximilian, " admitted von Rittenheim. "Perhaps the veryintensity of his love may have made him exacting towards her?"

"My dear fellow, she paid no more attention to him and his wishes thanif he were the lowest servant on the estate. She had a constant flockof men hanging about, with whom she flirted desperately, entirelyregardless of Max's feelings. I must say he bore it like an angel! Why, if my wife--well, never mind, I haven't one yet. She made herselfconspicuous with Moller--Colonel Moller, you know, before von Hatfeldtkilled himself on her account. "

"The Graf's son?" Friedrich was startled. 

"The second son. He took poison and told his father why. The old manwent to Max about it. "

"Poor old Max!"

"What could he do? When he charged her with it there's nothing so sweetand gentle on earth as that girl! What had she done? Nothing at all, but torment a poor fellow until his nerves and will were wrecked. Howcould she be responsible for that?"

Friedrich saw before him John Wendell, haggard and sneering, saying tohim something so insulting that Sydney had grown white, and Bob hadraised a threatening arm. 

"But, as I said, she overreached herself with von Hillern. Fortunatelyfor him he was in love with some one else, which was his safeguard, buthe was willing enough to singe his wings, and the Baroness wasdetermined to make him give up his marriage, as a sign that he lovedher. "

Von Rittenheim stared at the mountains and thought of Sydney. VonSternburg continued, --

"Maximilian was fully alive to everything that went on, and he wasbeside himself with distress. Apart from the pain of his own unrequitedlove, he was acutely anxious over the gossip about her. "

"Von Hillern is an old friend of our family. "

"Exactly. I think Max blamed him very little, but it preyed on hismind. "

"You think it became unhinged?"

"I think so. Indeed, I'm almost sure of it. He hadn't the constitutionto endure any mental anxiety. "

"I suppose he shot himself in a fit of alienation. "

"He shot himself because his wife refused to give up her affair withvon Hillern. Whether it was mania, or a passing craze of jealousy, Idon't pretend to say. "

"How do you know it wasn't on account of financial troubles?"

"I was there in the next room at the time. "

Von Rittenheim leaned forward and fixed his eyes on von Sternburg'sface with keen anxiety. 

"You heard him?"

"I had gone to ask Max to ride with me. The servant who opened the doorsaid he dared not announce me to the Baron; that he was storming aboutin his dressing-room. I ran up-stairs and into Max's room, which wasempty, but I heard his voice in the Baroness's room, which adjoinedit. "

"You understood what he said?"

"Perfectly. It seemed to be the end of a long argument. He cried, 'Hilda, will you or will you not give up von Hillern?'"

"And she said?"

"'I have told you repeatedly, Max, that I will not. ' Then he seemed togo wild, and cried, 'Give him up! Give him up!'"

Von Rittenheim paled. He never moved his eyes from his friend's face. 

"Without a word of warning, he fired two shots. I broke open the doorinstantly, expecting that he had killed Hilda, but he had ended hissuffering in another way. "

Friedrich's head sank, and Carl again laid a hand upon his knee inawkward sympathy. 

"Of course, the whole thing came out, " he continued. "The servants kneweverything, as they always do, and I had to tell my story at theinquest. The Baroness braved public opinion for a time, first playingthe innocent and then the martyr; but one day Graf von Hatfeldt calledupon her, and told her a few home truths, and that very night she leftthe Schloss. Nobody knows where she went to, unless it's Stapfer. If hedoes, he has kept her secret. "

Friedrich preserved a silence that disturbed von Sternburg. Carlcrossed his knees uneasily and lighted a cigarette, glancingoccasionally at his friend. Just how deeply this would cut him he hadno means of knowing. 

At last von Rittenheim, looking worn but not unhappy, lifted his head. He rose and walked to the edge of the veranda, and stretched himself asif to shake off some trammel of thought. 

"After we have had luncheon, will you do me a great kindness, Carl?" heasked. "Will you drive home with me into the country, and spend thenight?"

"My dear fellow, I shall be delighted to do so, " cried von Sternburg, surprised and relieved at this unexpected turn of the conversation. 

XXVI

Surrender

Uncle Jimmy lighted the room and took away the tea-equipage, while Mrs. Carroll established herself with a book before the fire. Hilda and Johnarranged the chess-board on a little table near the lamp. The red shadecast a warm glow over the girl's fairness and gave a look of physicalvigor to her delicate charm. John made his moves with unthinkingswiftness, happy in the sight of her beauty and in the chance touch ofher hand. 

In a large chair Sydney lay back languidly, her hands idle upon herlap. The shock of Bob's death had exhausted her, and she found herselfspent, physically and emotionally. A book lay open upon her knees, buther eyes closed wearily, or stared unseeing into space. She wasthinking of all that Bob's life had meant to her of companionship andaffection; of the pain that his weakness had brought her, and the pridethat had watched his redemption. She had yearned over him in maternaltenderness. Yet she knew that she could but have brushed the edges ofhis future; that his death at this time saved him from inevitablesorrow. She sighed as she thought that perhaps he knew now, dear oldBob, how completely she was able to sympathize with him in thebitterness of his longing. Involuntarily she glanced at Hilda, andadmired her beauty. Hilda caught her look and smiled in return. 

"_Armes Kind_, " she cried, tossing her a kiss from her finger-tips, "you are so tired. "

It was astonishing to Sydney that she felt no jealousy or envy ofHilda. It seemed to her that it was not natural that she should feel sokindly disposed towards the woman who had taken her lover from her. Yetit was true. Although she could not help an occasional wince at somelook or word, yet she had no hard feeling. She did not attribute thislack to any excellence of her own character. It seemed to her butsimple justice that a woman who had made so sad a mistake, and who hadexpiated it so rudely, should have her reward; whereas, what had_she_ done to deserve recompense? Did happiness come at any one'swhistle?

But how she wished it would. 

Mrs. Carroll laid down her book and sighed in disgust. 

"I do wish, " she said, "that there was some one here old enough for meto talk to. "

"Try me, " said John, as the oldest of the company addressed, while thegirls laughed. 

"I grow so impatient with it, " went on the old lady, pursuing aloud hertrain of thought. "It seems as if the whole body of French fictionwriters was in a conspiracy against one's illusions. They are cleverenough to see the value of them, you would suppose, yet almost everybook you take up teaches that honor is a thing of the external life, and not a part of the very essence of one's being. "

"Do you call that an illusion?" asked Sydney. 

"_I_ call it a truth, and belief in it an article of faith, " said Mrs. Carroll, stoutly, "but these people"--she tapped the book she had laiddown--"posit it as an illusion, and then demolish it by all sorts ofexamples that could occur nowhere outside of Gaul!"

"Do you forget the books that are 'crowned'?" asked John. 

"When a Frenchman attempts to be spiritual, it is an unfortunate factthat he becomes insipid, " asserted Mrs. Carroll, with a finality thatmade them laugh again. 

"You keep to this day your illusions!" said Hilda, softly admiring. 

"I am most glad to say that I do. They are worn, but serviceablestill, " replied Mrs. Carroll, smiling. "Even at my age, I still believethat most husbands cherish their wives, and that most wives love theirhusbands, and wear their names worthily. "

"Checkmate. "

"Oh, Mr. Vendell!"

Hilda was so adorably regretful, and her lack of mastery of her wasso captivating, that John was desperately sorry that he had takenadvantage of her preoccupation. 

"It was Mrs. Car-roll who beat me, not you, " she said. "I was listeningto her and not thinking. "

"Of me? You never do, " he whispered. 

She was resetting the board, and giving John delicious little thrillsfrom her finger-tips, when Uncle Jimmy threw open the door. 

"Baron von Rittenheim, " he announced. 

Sydney rose in greeting, and Mrs. Carroll gave an exclamation ofpleasure at the coming of her favorite, but both were startled intosilence by Hilda's cry. The chess-board emptied its burden upon thefloor with many tinkling crashes, and she was on her feet, one handpressed against her head, and the other turned palm outward as if toavert a blow. A grayness like the livery of death came over her face, but now so vitally warm. The red lamp-light behind increased herghastliness. Her eyes were fixed on the man who had followed vonRittenheim into the room. 

"You, you!" she whispered, hoarsely. 

Von Sternburg gave a cry of amazement. 

"The Baroness--_here_! Why didn't you tell me, Friedrich?" he demanded, while his mind quickly reviewed the possible relations between vonRittenheim and his sister-in-law, and considered the effect upon themof his frank disclosures of the morning. 

Friedrich, whose gaze had been searching keenly first one face and thenthe other, gave a nod, and without replying to his friend, introducedhim to Mrs. Carroll and Sydney. Von Sternburg bent over each hand andthen approached Hilda. She was regaining her control, though shetrembled so violently as to justify in his precaution Wendell, who hadsprung to her, fearing that she would fall. 

"This is an unexpected meeting, Baroness, " von Sternburg said, inEnglish. 

"Why have you come?" she asked, in the same hoarse but articulatewhisper. 

"As I told Fr-riedrich, Baedeker brought me. I had no idea that I wasto have the pleasure of seeing him again among these mountains, muchless, you. "

"You two men must have had an enormous amount to say to each other, "said Mrs. Carroll. "John, give Hilda that large chair. The surprise ofseeing Baron von Sternburg has been too much for her. "

Hilda sank into the offered seat, and von Sternburg placed himselfbeside her. He fitted his clothes to the cracking-point, and he had thelack of impressiveness that goes with rotundity. Yet it was clear thathe felt himself to have the whip-hand of the situation, and Hilda'smanner acknowledged it. 

Across the room the others were talking together, though von Rittenheimwas not without preoccupation. 

"You don't seem glad to see me, " von Sternburg said, in German. 

Hilda ignored his opening. 

"I suppose you have told Friedrich everything, " she said at once, in atone dull with the chagrin of defeated hope. 

"Yes, " replied von Sternburg, "I think I have. "

"Then I hate you!"

She sat erect, and an angry flush colored her cheeks. 

"No doubt. "

"You have destroyed the only chance of happiness I ever expect tohave. "

"Do you deserve happiness?"

"Won't you grant me that mercy?"

"Have you ever shown mercy?"

As her regret over the failure of her plans had been swallowed up inresentment at the doer of the mischief, so her passion was swept awayby a wave of self-pity. She turned to him with fierce reproach. 

"You think I am so heartless as to be outside of the needs of otherwomen, don't you?"

"I must confess that you are the only one of your kind in myexperience. "

Hilda was maddened at his irony. 

"Can you not believe that I am eager to be happy in the way that otherwomen are? That I _long_ to feel the love that comes to every one butme?"

"No, --pardon me, --I cannot believe that. "

"Insolent! I don't know why I try to justify myself to you. But listen. Can you imagine what it is to be without a heart? To make men love youfor the sport of it, and not to care when they kill themselves for yoursake, --truly _not to care_? And at the same time to have another partof yourself wanting to care, --yearning to feel pity?"

"Is that dual nature yours?"

"You are sneering. You always have thought of me as rejoicing incruelty, I suppose. "

"Certainly as indifferent to suffering. "

"You have believed that I thought myself normal; that I was unconsciousof my want of feeling. "

"I never observed any recognition of your temperament evidenced in yourconduct. "

"But it is true, Baron. I swear to you that I know my need so well, sopainfully well, that on the chance of Friedrich's saving me from allthat it means, I was willing to force him to poverty, and to separatehim from all that he held dear. "

"I don't doubt it, though I don't see how you expected that to helpyou. "

"I thought that, if I could have him near me always, perhaps my heartmight wake within me. I do not love him, but he is the only man I evermet whose every thought I honor. "

"Yet you were willing to sacrifice him!"

"I needed him. "

Von Sternburg looked at her in abhorrence. 

"I suppose you don't know what an abomination of selfishness you are. "

She did not seem to hear him, but added, bitterly, --

"Now you have come, my hope is gone. "

Von Sternburg looked across the room. Friedrich was leaning overSydney's chair. 

"It is still in the family, I should say. It merely has changed itsabiding-place. "

A spasm which was the recognition of defeat, not the anguish of loss, went over Hilda's face. She crossed the room to Mrs. Carroll, vonSternburg following slowly after. 

"Dear Mrs. Car-roll, " she said, in English, "Baron von Sternburg hasbrought news that compels me to leave Oakwood soon--yes, to-morrow. Ihope you know how gr-rateful I am to you for your hospitality. Yourkindness alvays vill be a br-right spot in my life!"

She looked charmingly young and very lovely as she stooped and kissedthe old lady's cheek. 

"To-morrow? Oh, surely not to-morrow!" cried Sydney, in hospitablereproach. 

"Sydney dear, you are vonderful! I r-really believe you mean it aftereverything. " And she tapped the taller girl's cheek with her tiny hand. 

She was entirely self-possessed now, much less agitated than the twomen who knew her secret, or than Wendell, who had been stricken at thenews of her departure; or than Sydney, who was overcome byembarrassment as she came to appreciate the meaning of her guest'sspeech. 

"I expect never to see you again, Friedrich; I should pr-refer not; soI vant to make my confession to you now. Oh, any one may hear, " shesaid, in answer to a gesture of Friedrich's. "I am quiteindifferent--now. Did the Baron tell you that Max shot himself becauseI r-refused to give up a flirtation? It is quite tr-rue. I lied to you, Friedrich, and I did an injustice to a man who had conquered thefollies of his life. Ah, Mrs. Car-roll, I did not love my husband orvear his name vorthily. I am one of the lost illusions. "

She looked from one to another in quick observance of their emotion. 

"Then, my scar, " she went on, lightly, "that vas another lie. I've hadit ever since I vas a child. And here is something that Baron vonSternburg could not have disclosed. You see I am r-revealingeverything. I am sure he told you that I am rich? Yes? But he vas notavare that _I knew_ from Herr Stapfer that you vere depr-rivingyourself for me. "

"Oh, Hilda, " cried Mrs. Carroll, in quick censure of the non-restitutionthat might have averted a life-time's self-reproach from Friedrich, "Howcould you keep it!"

"The money itself vas nothing to me, but I hoped that throughFriedrich's poverty I might gain some power over him, and make him dovhat I vanted. I shall see that it is r-restored to you at once, Friedrich. "

She turned to Wendell, and her face changed subtly. She became thetempting woman, alluring in the innocence of her child-like beauty. 

"Do you still mean vhat you said to me yesterday, Mr. Vendell?"

She leaned towards him a trifle--the merest trifle. Wendell stoodsilent. 

"Do you still vant to marry me--John?" The name was but a breath. 

He stared at her as if fascinated by the spell of her glowing eyes. With an effort he looked away from her to von Rittenheim. 

"Tell me, " he said, huskily, "I don't understand. Her husband? Is----?"

"She will not dishonor you, " answered Friedrich to the unspokenquestion. 

"She'll merely br-reak your heart, " completed von Sternburg, brutally. 

Wendell turned to Hilda in relief, to find her drawn haughtily erectbefore him. She did not notice his extended hands. 

"You doubted me, " she flung at him, arrogantly. "I demand from thosewho love me, all--or nothing. "

She swept from the room, small, proud, forceful; while John threwhimself upon a chair and buried his head in his hands. 

XXVII

Dixie

Gray Eagle was trotting briskly along the road over which another handhad guided him so often, --the Oakwood carriage-way. On his back satFriedrich, erectly vigorous, singing for the trees' benefit, --

 "Oh, I wees' I was in Deexie, Look away, look away! In Deexie Land I take my stand, To live and die in Deexie. "

The aspen fluttered its yellow leaves in applause, and the sourwoodthrew at him by the breeze's hand a cluster of its scarlet foliage. Themouse-gray goldenrod nodded approval of his mood, and the oak-treesswung their yet green boughs in sympathy with his light-hearted onwardrush. 

The air was cool and warm, and bright and mellow, and all thecontradictions that make October the month of the year's matureperfection; that middle age of the seasons, when the blossoms of follyare past, and the fruits of the will are ripened, and the chill of barewinter is still in the future. 

Occasionally, in sheer exuberance, von Rittenheim rose high in hisstirrups and gave a whoop of gladness that made Gray Eagle skip insympathetic deviation from his usual long stride. 

It was during one of these upstandings, when his head was brought aboveits customary level, that Friedrich saw a girl running away from thecarriage-road down the lane that led to the sheep-farm. The sunshineburned on her brilliant head, and Gray Eagle found his glad careerbrought to a sudden close, and his amusement abruptly reduced to theoccupation of nibbling the stem of the young tree to which he was tied. He watched his rider's long legs vault over the gate, and ponderedwisely on the similarity of interests of his two masters, for he, too, now descried a flash of color in the distance. 

Sydney's race ended beneath a huge oak, against which she leaned, breathless and laughing, and faced her pursuer, who was close upon her. The musical ring of his rowelled spurs ceased as he grasped her hands. 

"_Unartiges Mädchen!_ Do you intend never to let me see you again? Tellme what you mean by it. "

Not a word said Sydney--only laughed at him provokingly. 

"I am of a mind to punish you, " he cried, drawing her towards him, andleaning over her. He looked determined, and Sydney surrendered hersilence with dignified haste. 

"No, no, don't, " she said, in reply to his gesture rather than hiswords. "I'll tell you anything. What do you want to know?"

"First, wherefore you were r-running down here. "

"To escape from you. "

"Tr-ruly?"

He dropped her hands and looked cut to the heart; so hurt that Sydneyhastened to apply ointment to the wound. 

"But I was walking on the carriage-road to meet you. "

"You were?" Friedrich's gloomy face was alive again. "Then why did your-run?"

"I don't know. For the same reason a kitten won't come when she'scalled, I suppose. "

"Even though she wants to?"

"Who knows what a kitten wants?"

"It would give me the gr-reatest of pleasure, Miss Car-roll, to shakeyou!"

"I don't doubt it. "

"It is such a hard blow to my vanity that you r-ran. See, I tr-ry tocomfort myself in this question: Perhaps you did not know it was Iwhose horse you heard?"

"Of course I knew it was you. "

"Oh, Sydney, dear Sydney, did your heart tell you that your lover wason the r-road?"

The girl blushed hotly at this bold speech, but she declined to besentimental. 

"Not at all, " she said. "There was other evidence. Who else could singlike you, 'Oh, I wees' I was in Deexie'?"

Her mimicry of his pronunciation was so good, and at the same time soabsurd, that they both laughed joyously. 

They walked slowly towards the gate, behind which Gray Eagle waswaiting with what patience he might. 

"Tell me, my pr-rincess, why have you not allowed me to see you sincethat evening, though I have come every day?"

"That terrible evening! Oh, Friedrich----"

"Say that again!"

"What? Friedrich?"

"Yes. Now just one time more. "

"How absurd you are, Friedrich!"

"I thank you. Now tell me. "

"Why, for the first day or two there was so much to do in getting themaway in their different directions--Hilda and John. Grandmother has hada letter from John, from Palm Beach. He has joined Baron von Sternburgthere. And then--oh, Friedrich, perhaps it was foolish, but I could notfeel as if we ought to be happy, you and I, so soon after _that_. "

"What a dear, sensitive child you are! And you thought the time ofmourning was up to-day, did you?"

"No, but--you won't make fun of me if I tell you?"

"I have al-ways supposed that it was you who teased me. "

"But you might think it was funny ever so many years from now!"

"Ah, now there are going to be _years_ in the future. Only a littlewhile ago the future was made up of thousands and thousands andthousands of inter-rminable days. "

"I know. "

"You felt it so, too?"

"Yes. That's the reason why--you won't ever laugh at me, will you?--Iwanted the years to begin to-day. I couldn't wait another twenty-fourhours. "

"My dar-rling!"

They stopped, and Friedrich drew her gently into his arms. 

"Will you let me kiss you?"

She lifted her face trustfully to his, and Gray Eagle watched themgravely over the gate. 

"I wees' I could make you know what you are to me, my pr-rincess, whatit means that you give yourself to me. It is not merely that I loveyou, my dar-rling, with all the strength that has been gathering in mewhile the years were adding themselves to my age. And it is not onlythat I think you are per-rfect, so lovely in the char-racter, and soclever, and so beautiful, my dear white r-rose. It means, besides thosethings, that you have saved me from the sin of letting my poor powersgrow weaker; that you have changed me from a plaything of chance into aman of will and action. I am bor-rn again, my heart's joy, into a worldof force and possibility, and you are the queen of the world, mostpr-recious. "

She laid her bright head against his breast. 

"Will you not say something to me, heart's dear-rest?"

"I am too happy, dear, to speak. "

"And I am too happy to keep still!"

They released Gray Eagle from his bondage, and walked along thecarriage-road towards the house. 

"After all, Friedrich, it was Bob who gave us to each other. "

"Twice over, dear. He sent me to von Sternburg, and he saved my lifefor--us. "

"Poor Hilda!"

"Poor Bob!"

THE END

A DAUGHTER OF THE SNOWS. 

By JACK LONDON. 

A strong and extremely dramatic story. Its love interest intense. Thebook is beautifully illustrated in colors from drawings by F. C. Yohn, and is handsomely bound. 

Illustrated in colors. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1. 50. 

THE INEVITABLE. 

By PHILIP VERRILL MIGHELS. 

The hero of Mr. Mighels's book is an exceedingly interesting andgood-looking young fellow of twenty-four years, whose parentage isshrouded in mystery. 

With frontispiece in colors by John Wolcott Adams. 12mo. Decoratedcloth, $1. 50. 

WOVEN WITH THE SHIP. 

By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY. 

Mr. Brady's thousands of readers will derive fresh pleasure from hisnew book. It has an intensely interesting plot and something happens onevery page. Illustrated with stunning drawings by Christy, Leyendecker, Glackens, Parkhurst, and Crawford, and has a striking cover design incolors. 

Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1. 50. 

 * * * * *

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA. 

ADAM RUSH. 

By LYNN ROBY MEEKINS. 

A new and interesting figure in a love story with the charm of countryand village life in every chapter. 

Frontispiece by Francis Day. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1. 50. 

BREACHLEY--BLACK SHEEP. 

By LOUIS BECKE. 

Mr. Becke's work is stamped by vigor of expression and an intenselydramatic imagination. Breachley is the most capable and in manyrespects the most interesting of his books. 

12mo. Decorated cloth, gilt top, $1. 50. 

A BLAZE OF GLORY. 

By JOHN STRANGE WINTER. 

A new novel by an author whose thousands of readers attest to hercontinued popularity. This is one of her strongest and brighteststories. 

12mo. Cloth, $1. 25. 

GENTLEMAN GARNET. 

By HARRY B. VOGEL. 

A tale of old Tasmania by a popular novelist. _Lippincott's Series ofSelect Novels. _

Crown 8vo. Decorated cloth, $1. 00; paper, 50 cents. 

 * * * * *

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA.